Jason felt a prickling at the back of his neck as he realized whose bones those must be.
So, he thought, that’s what has drawn the centaurs here.
“They’re doing something with the jars,” Acastus whispered.
Sure enough, one of the centaurs had separated himself from the rest and picked up a jar from the rock.
Jason realized with a start that the centaur was Nessus, with his skull necklace.
“Which jar is he taking?” Acastus asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jason replied. “I can’t tell the difference in this light. Maybe the healing blood.”
“What does he want with that? Nobody here looks sick.”
“Let’s just watch and see.”
Clutching the jar to his chest, Nessus walked toward the pit, and the other centaurs parted before him. An awestruck silence fell over them, and the only sound was the steady clip-clopping of Nessus’ feet on the stone floor.
When he reached the pit, Nessus’ voice rang out with the force of a gong in the sudden hush. “You all know why we’ve come here. For too many years we have been divided, quarreling among ourselves instead of uniting. That is why the men of Thessaly have been able to defeat us, to drive us from our lands, to treat us as though we are no better than animals.”
The centaurs began an angry murmur that rolled across the cave, echoing from the walls like a wave crashing on a reef.
“But now all that is at an end,” Nessus continued, his voice rising above the noise. “Now we shall restore the leader who was lost to us. Through the power of the Gorgon’s blood, let him live again!”
Standing on the edge of the pit, he pulled the stopper from the jar and tossed it aside. Then he turned the jar over and poured the contents over the dried-out bones.
For a moment nothing happened, and still the centaurs watched the pit, hardly moving.
The thick blue liquid hissed angrily as it crawled over the bones, sounding like boiling water poured over a cold rock. Haze filled the pit, rising up like morning mist from a lake, only it was shot through with tiny sparks of flame. In the midst of the swirling vapors, a strange movement had begun.
It was difficult to tell from far away—what with the mist and the flames—but gradually the haze lifted, and then the boys and Alcestis could see what the centaurs had already witnessed. A riot of veins, arteries, and sinews had begun wrapping themselves around the bleached skeleton, like ivy running wild over the ruins of an abandoned shrine. Mud-colored flesh sluggishly bubbled over this giant structure, swelling into powerful muscles down the arms and legs. Coarse black hair sprang up along the huge frame, forming thick horsehair in the lower part, curly body hair and beard in the upper.
Then the newly restored body trembled, convulsed. A horse’s leg kicked out, a human fist thrust upward. In a series of jerky motions, the gigantic centaur got to his knees, stretched his arms, shook out his shaggy locks, as though shaking off the fog of a long sleep.
As he heaved himself up onto his hooves, all of the other centaurs drew back, gasping in awe. Nessus tossed aside the empty jar, and he, alone, took two steps forward, his arms held up in wonder and in worship.
Slowly the great centaur turned and looked about. He was easily half again as big as Nessus, and beneath his shaggy brows his eyes gleamed like embers. He opened his mouth wide and uttered a long, drawn-out groan.
“Who is that?” Acastus asked. “What is that?” There was a tremor in his voice.
Jason’s mouth was dry as dust. This was something he had not expected, could hardly explain.
“Kentauros,” he said at last, “the ancient leader of the centaurs.” He hesitated. “They’ve brought him back from the dead.”
“The long dead,” Alcestis whispered.
All at once the centaurs began to chant in unison. “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!”
The name boomed off the cavern walls, redoubling in volume. Alcestis covered her ears. The boys winced.
Kentauros nodded his head at the ovation, then—almost daintily—trotted out of the pit to stand beside Nessus.
Nessus bowed his head to his king.
“Now we know why they wanted the blood of life,” said Lynceus.
The boys and Alcestis started to back away. Jason alone stood his ground. He turned back and said to them, “This is our one chance. While they’re distracted, I can go down and get that other jar.”
“Not by yourself,” said Acastus.
“This is a job for one,” Jason insisted.
“Are you so sure you can succeed without me that you’ll spurn my help?” Acastus’ challenge recalled their previous conversation.
Jason bit his lower lip. He knew there was little time for argument. “All right, but stay low and keep quiet.”
“You don’t get to give me orders, Goat Boy.”
To their left, the ledge sloped downward, ending in a short drop to the cavern floor. There was a boulder there that would keep them hidden. Jason went first, slithering down and jumping the last few feet before diving behind cover. Acastus followed.
The centaurs, all so busy crowding around their new-risen leader, never noticed a thing.
The two boys crouched side by side.
“What now?” Acastus’ voice was shaking, though whether with eagerness or fear Jason couldn’t tell.
The chanting was gradually subsiding, but the attention of the centaurs was still entirely focused on Kentauros. In a series of quick sprints, Jason and Acastus dodged from boulder to boulder, stalagmite to stalagmite, hugging the shadows, circling around next to the wall of the great cave.
As the two made their way closer to the remaining jar, Nessus began to speak.
“A new day will soon be dawning outside,” he said, “but a greater day is dawning here in this cavern. It is the day of Kentauros!”
A huge cheer went up, and once again the cries of “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!” filled the air.
Jason darted behind a pile of rocks with Acastus at his heels. Now they were only a short dash from their goal.
“Once we’ve got the jar—” Jason began, then stopped, shook his head. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here without being spotted.”
“We don’t need to worry about that,” Acastus assured him.
“Why not?”
“Do you think they’ll dare come near us when we hold the Gorgon’s blood? We could wipe out the whole herd of them with only a sprinkling of it.”
Jason swallowed hard. It was a terrible thought. But Acastus was right. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Now Nessus was explaining to Kentauros about the Gorgon’s blood and how they had raised him up to lead them in war against the men of Thessaly. The great centaur listened in silence, and then a dreadful thing happened. He laughed. It was a harsh, inhuman sound.
Jason shuddered. If the dead could laugh, he thought, it would sound just like that.
“The gates of Hades could not hold me!” Kentauros declared, striking a fist against his hairy chest. “How can mortal men stand up to me?” His voice was as terrible as his laugh, cold and hollow as a tomb. He looked squarely at Nessus. “Where is Lapithes, the upstart who slew me?”
Nessus hung his head regretfully. “He is long dead, my king, but his descendants have filled all of Thessaly.”
“In that case they will be easy to find—and to kill!” Kentauros cried.
“Easier than you think,” Nessus said eagerly. “There are two jars of Gorgon’s blood. One of them gave you life, but the other is a poison, a poison so powerful we can use it to destroy all the men of Thessaly.”