Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

CHAPTER 19

A QUESTION OF DEATH

UP ON THE LEDGE THE others had been nervously following the progress of the two boys, Alcestis constantly craning forward for a better view.

Admetus was lying on the ledge beside her, with Idas and Lynceus close by.

“Keep back,” said Admetus, tugging at her robe. “If you’re seen, they’ll be on the lookout for others. And then Acastus—”

“None of the centaurs is looking at anything except Kentauros,” Alcestis complained, but she slid back.

“I don’t blame them,” Lynceus muttered. “He’s a fearsome-looking brute.”

“He’s just another centaur,” said Idas defiantly.

Now Jason and Acastus were almost within reach of the jar.

“I wish we could do something to help them,” Alcestis said.

“The best thing we can do for them is to keep out of sight,” Admetus told her.

Just then Acastus made his move and fell. Alcestis and the others stared in horror as the command was issued to bring the jar and the centaur guard began to turn.

“We have to do something,” Alcestis gasped. She was leaning forward anxiously, her hands gripping the edge.

“Alcestis, the ledge is giving way!” Admetus warned.

He made a grab for the girl, but it was too late. The outermost part of the ledge—obviously weakened by all the weight upon it—collapsed and sent her tumbling downward. With a startled scream, she hit the stony ground and rolled against the legs of several of the outermost centaurs.

Every one of them—Kentauros included—swung around to face the source of the disturbance. While the guard was distracted, Jason grabbed Acastus by the leg and pulled him back into cover.

“Intruders in the cave!” Nessus bellowed. “The jar—now!”

The guard grabbed the jar and trotted over to his leader, who snatched it away from him.

“If you’d left me alone I might have gotten it!” hissed Acastus.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Jason. “They’re all on their guard now. It’s your sister you should be worrying about.”

On the ledge above, Idas hauled Admetus and Lynceus back out of sight. “That girl’s going to be the death of us,” he grumbled.

“No,” Admetus retorted, “she’s saved Jason and Acastus from getting caught. She’s a hero!”

“She’s a disaster,” Idas said. “And her brother as well.”

“Maybe we should get out of here while we still can,” Lynceus suggested.

Idas shook his head. “We have comrades down there. We can’t abandon them.”

Meanwhile, two centaurs had snatched Alcestis up by the arms and brought her to Kentauros, her legs dangling helplessly in the air. She was breathing hard, eyes wide with fear. As she was carried through their midst, the centaurs began to mutter darkly. Kentauros’ face was as lean and pale as a skull. He leaned close to her, his voice echoing hollowly through the cavern. “Tell me, child, are you here alone or are there others?”

The question seemed to shake Alcestis out of her horrified stupor, like a cup of cold water dashed across her face. The boys knew all of their lives could depend on what she said now.

Alcestis’ mouth opened and closed convulsively, as if she were trying to catch words out of the air. “I’m alone,” she said at last in a tiny voice.

“And how did you get past our guards?” Kentauros asked.

“I was … here all along.” It was hardly more than a breath.

“What was that?” Nessus barked.

Alcestis flinched. “I was here all along,” she repeated, more loudly this time.

Nessus’ eyes darted around suspiciously. “Doing what? Spying?”

“I was gathering flowers outside.” Alcestis’ voice was steadier now, the words coming more easily. “I saw centaurs coming up the hill, so I ran in here. I was afraid. I’ve been warned against centaurs.”

“You’ve been here unseen all this time?” Nessus seemed skeptical.

Alcestis nodded.

The centaurs let out a rumble of displeasure and one bellowed, “Torture her!”

“That’ll make her speak the truth!” shouted another.

Alcestis’ face was pale in the torchlight, but she did not weep. If anything, the calls of the centaurs gave her strength.

On the ledge, Admetus was clawing at the stone beneath him in helpless frustration. “You were wrong about her, Idas,” he whispered as the centaurs’ threats boomed louder and louder. “She’s braver than any of us.”

“You may be right,” Idas agreed. “But I doubt her courage will save her now.”

Suddenly Kentauros let out a contemptuous roar that silenced his followers. “Has centaur blood grown thinner since my day? Is one human child enough to throw you into a panic?”

He gazed around at his fellow centaurs, and one by one by one they hung their heads in shame. Even Nessus looked away, grinding his teeth in humiliation.

“Give her to me,” Kentauros ordered, his voice a clap of thunder.

He gripped Alcestis around the waist with both hands and lifted her up so that she was staring him in the face, the tips of their noses only inches apart. The girl shook uncontrollably.

“I’m curious about this potion of yours,” Kentauros said to Nessus. “Let me see what it does.”

Obediently Nessus removed the stopper from the jar.

“You see this jar, girl?” Kentauros asked.

Alcestis’ eyes flickered to where Nessus was standing.

“Would you like a drink of what’s inside it?”

Alcestis pursed her lips tightly and shook her head.

“Why not?” Kentauros’ lips curled back in a malevolent grin. “You must be thirsty after hiding for so long.”

Still there was no reply.

“Go on,” Kentauros coaxed, “just a sip.”

Alcestis answered in a near whisper, but her words could be heard all over the cavern. “Drink it yourself.”

Kentauros’ grin twisted into a snarl. “The race of man!” he sneered. “What have we to fear from them? Just see how easily they break!”

So saying, he lifted Alcestis up above his head and hurled her away from him. She flew across the cavern and hit the rock wall with a sickening thud. She flopped limply to the cave floor and lay there, unmoving.

Trembling, Acastus reached for his sword. Before he could make another move, Jason clamped a hand over his mouth and wrestled him to the ground.

“No, not now!” he rasped urgently into the prince’s ear. “You’ll get us all killed, and who’ll stop Kentauros then?”

“Ken-tau-ros! Ken-tau-ros!” Slowly the chant was starting up again. “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!”

Kentauros spread his arms wide, accepting the adulation of his followers.

Nessus carefully replaced the stopper in the jar and waited for the uproar to die down. “You will all see the effects of the Gorgon’s blood soon enough,” he told Kentauros, “when we use it to destroy the men of Iolcus at a stroke. If any are left, we will slaughter them ourselves. And when Iolcus has fallen, all of Thessaly will tremble before us!”

A ghastly cheer shook the walls of the cavern.

Acastus’ breast was heaving with anger, and his face had turned bright red. Jason knew it wasn’t safe to release him yet. “Think of your city,” he urged. “We can’t afford to let ourselves be captured now.”

Finally Acastus seemed to pull himself together, and Jason slowly loosened his hold.

“They will pay for this,” Acastus vowed in a hoarse whisper.

“They will pay mightily,” Jason agreed.

“I have spent long enough in this tomb,” Kentauros bellowed. “I want to see the sky, the mountains, the plains of Thessaly.”

“Lead us, then,” Nessus encouraged him, “and we will follow.”

The ranks parted before him, and Kentauros trotted into the tunnel and out of sight. The other centaurs charged after him like a vast river pouring through a canyon. The clatter of their hooves echoed deafeningly, then faded away.

The boys were alone in the vast, empty silence of the cavern. The centaurs had taken the red jar with them.

Acastus jumped up at once and ran to Alcestis. Dropping to one knee, he took her by the wrist.

Jason stood by him, his hand hovering uncertainly over the prince’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if a gesture of comfort would be welcome.

The other three boys came hurrying down from the ledge.

“Acastus, what can we do?” Idas asked.

Acastus’ head was bowed low. “Nothing,” he said with a groan. “Alcestis is dead.”

There was a long, miserable silence, then Admetus spoke up.

“You’re wrong, Acastus. There is something we can do.”

The others all turned to face him. Cradled in his arm was the discarded jar that had held the blood of life.

“It’s not completely empty,” he said.