Robert Harris - Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

At first the path was a good three feet wide, wide enough for even Idas to walk comfortably. However, the surface was bumpy and strewn with jagged fragments of flint that pressed hard into the soles of their sandals. Before they were halfway across, the footing started to shrink inches at a time.

Jason halted and raised a warning hand. Turning his head, he called out, “It gets narrower here. You’re all going to have to space out a bit more.”

He heard grunting agreement behind him, and he started forward again, but carefully.

Soon the only way they could continue was to turn with their noses scraping against the rough wall. Encumbered as they were with weapons and supplies, they couldn’t set their backs to the mountain, and they were all mindful of the drop behind them.

Lynceus said loudly, “It’s going to be hard for Idas to go much farther, big as he is.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Idas rumbled. “You just mind your own footing.”

“It’s all right,” Admetus said, struggling to sound confident. “Jason’s been this way before, so it must be safe.”

Jason reached out with a toe and kicked a troublesome rock off the path ahead. “I never said I’d been this way before.”

There was a stunned silence as the other boys paused in midstep. The sound of the rock tumbling down the drop, hitting against occasional outcroppings, was ominous.

“You told us you knew the route,” Acastus said in a low, accusing voice. “You said there was a way over the mountains.”

Jason took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’ve spoken to hunters who’ve crossed here.”

“Hunters!” squeaked Lynceus. “Those braggarts will say anything for a cup of wine!”

“They were telling the truth,” Jason insisted. “The path is here, isn’t it?”

“So far.” Admetus groaned.

“So,” Acastus said, voice dripping venom, “all you know of the route over the mountains is what you’ve heard from others?”

Jason knew he could not afford to show weakness when all of them were so uncertain and in such a vulnerable position on the mountain ridge.

“That’s right,” he replied. “Why? Do you want to run away? If you do, you’ll have to persuade the others to go first.”

There was another long silence as they contemplated inching back the way they’d come.

At last, in a quavering voice, Admetus asked, “Is there anything else you haven’t told us?”

“Oh, I’m sure there are a lot of things Jason hasn’t told us,” Acastus said darkly. “And sooner or later, one of them is going to trip him up. We have to hope they don’t trip us up as well.”

Heart pounding, his chest pressed against the rock, Jason bit down hard on his lower lip. Had he really let them think he knew the way better than he did? He was sure he hadn’t planned to deceive them. On the other hand, if they had known the truth, would they have come even this far? Then he remembered why he’d brought them this way. The goal was more important than any of their complaints.

“Enough talk,” barked Idas. “My legs are getting stiff standing here. Let’s move along. If we fall to our deaths, we can beat Jason into a paste when we catch up with him in the Underworld.”

Lynceus laughed weakly. “Yes, that will be something to look forward to.”

“It would be as hard to go back now as it would be to continue,” Admetus added.

Jason devoutly hoped that was true, and resumed his sideways movement along the ledge. But he was more worried than he let on. If the ridge grew any narrower he doubted they could make it. Certainly not with their heavy packs. Even now, he thought, it would only take a gust of wind to blow them off. Or the slip of a foot.

Beside him, the boys were still quarreling.

“Admetus, you fool, leave me some room!” Acastus hissed.

“The end of your spear is poking my leg.”

And then the very thing that Jason had feared happened. Acastus’ flash of temper caused his concentration to lapse. Some loose stones slid out from under the prince’s foot and went rattling down the dizzy slope, throwing him off balance. For a second he struggled to right himself, clawing at the rough wall with his free hand, trying to find a grip.

Jason reached out and clasped him by the shoulder to steady him. Instead of being grateful for the help, the prince flattened himself against the rock face and slapped Jason’s arm away impatiently.

“I don’t need your assistance!” he snapped.

Jason felt a spark of anger but quickly quenched it. This was far too dangerous a spot for a fight. “Next time I won’t bother,” he muttered, working his way farther along the ledge.

Two sliding steps more and Jason found he suddenly had room to move. Looking ahead, he saw that the path was definitely broadening out again. He beamed.

“It gets easier from here,” he called to the others.

He had hardly begun to enjoy his sense of relief when a startled cry made him look back. Lynceus had lost his balance and was toppling backward. His arms were spinning frantically. His javelin had gone flying from his hand and was hurtling end over end through the air.

In the blink of an eye, Idas had tossed his own spear away and dug his fingers into a cleft in the rock, scraping the flesh from them. With his other hand he snatched hold of Lynceus’ belt just as his brother’s feet slipped off the edge.

For an instant Lynceus dangled in space, his eyes bulging in panic. Only the strength of his brother’s arm was keeping him from his doom. Then Idas swung Lynceus back, slamming him into the rock so hard, his face was almost flattened.

“You … can … let … go … now.” Lynceus gasped, his lips rasping against the stone wall.

Idas released his grip and flexed his arm with a scowl. “I’ve thrown away my best spear to save you,” he grumbled. “I’m not sure it was a good trade.”

The other boys laughed nervously before moving on.

It took another half hour to reach the end of the ridge. By that time every muscle in Jason’s body was aching and his legs felt as though they had turned into stalks of straw. He thought, If I feel this way I can only imagine how the others are doing. But he kept those thoughts to himself. As leader—or guide—he had to be strong.

Scrambling up onto the mountain slope like a half-drowned man dragging himself onto the shore, he checked to see where they were. The area was dotted with pricker bushes and shriveled trees that had to survive on what little rainwater seeped into the cracks in the hard rock, but it was the sweetest piece of land Jason had ever set eyes on.

He flung himself down flat on the ground and breathed easily for what seemed the first time in hours.

One by one the others flopped down beside him, panting and groaning.

Lynceus let out a squeaky laugh. “If I knew which god to thank for getting me across safely, I’d build him a temple right here.”

“You’ve me to thank,” said Idas, “and I don’t want a temple.”

“Good,” Lynceus gasped. “I haven’t the strength for building one anyway.”

“I say we eat something and then move on,” Jason said.

“Move on?” Admetus and Lynceus spoke as one, and Idas shook his head. Only Acastus, sitting apart from the others, refused comment.

“Move on,” Jason repeated, “because this is no place to spend the night.” He gestured to the hard, open ground and the gray, dying trees.

After a brief meal the boys resumed their trek, but silently, as if adding words to their burdens would have been more weight than they could carry.

Working their way around the curve of the slope involved clambering over boulders, squeezing through tight gaps, and then clawing their way up steep inclines littered with loose pebbles. But after the trial they had just completed, no one complained.