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.
CHAPTER 20
A MATTER OF LIFE
THEY GATHERED AROUND ADMETUS, and Lynceus peered into the jar. He wrinkled his nose. “There can’t be more than a couple of drops in there.”
“What use can it be?” Idas asked. “They needed the whole jar to raise up Kentauros.”
“Yes, but he’d been dead for centuries,” Admetus reminded them. “Alcestis is newly dead. This might be enough.”
Lynceus squinted at Jason. “What do you think, Jason?”
Jason’s throat tightened. He didn’t like the thought of using the Gorgon’s blood, not after all that Chiron had told him. The gods could punish them all for such a thing. “It … might work.” He hesitated. “But do we have the right?”
“The right?” Admetus cried. “The right to heal? The right to save a life?”
“She’s not sick,” said Idas. “She’s dead.”
Jason nodded. “We’re not talking about saving a life, Admetus. There’s no life there to save. We’re talking about bringing Alcestis back from the grave.”
“She’s not in her grave,” Admetus cried. “She’s not even cold yet.”
“We aren’t gods,” Jason said. “They don’t like humans to take on their roles.”
“We’re not even the sons of gods like the healer Asclepius was,” said Lynceus
“When you’re dead, you’re dead, and that’s that,” Idas declared sullenly.
For a long while no one spoke. It was as if they were waiting for another voice—perhaps Chiron’s—to intervene and tell them what to do.
At last Jason said, “What do you say, Acastus? She’s your sister, after all.”
Acastus had been unusually silent. He looked pale and drawn as he spoke. “What should I do? If my father knew that Alcestis was killed, and I could have brought her back, and didn’t …” He took a deep breath, a gulp that was almost a sob. “But Alcestis was devoted to the gods. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to defy their will.” He stared down at his dead sister as if asking her advice.
“Suppose, Acastus, suppose the gods want her to live,” Admetus pleaded, holding the jar before him. “Suppose that’s why they’ve left us these last few drops of healing blood.”
“Maybe we’re supposed to save the blood for another time,” Lynceus said.
Acastus stood up slowly, carefully, his sister in his arms. “It’s true she was no warrior.” He was looking directly at Jason as he spoke, but he was addressing all of them. “But if not for her, Jason, it would be you and me lying there dead. It would be all of us. We owe our lives to her.”
“I know that,” said Jason. “But Chiron sent us to retrieve the Gorgon’s blood, not use it.”
“How does that matter now?” asked Admetus. “Both jars have already been used. There’s not enough left here to be worth taking back.”
“Maybe not,” Jason said, “but there’s something else we have to remember. Something Chiron told me. Asclepius raised the dead with the Gorgon’s blood, and Zeus destroyed him for it.”
Idas rubbed his chin ruefully. “We’ll have a hard enough time stopping the centaurs without bringing the anger of Zeus down on our heads.”
“I didn’t see Nessus catch a thunderbolt when he raised Kentauros,” said Lynceus.
“The gods can keep a grudge for a long, long time,” said Jason, thinking of Hera and her hatred for Pelias. “We don’t know what might happen or when.”
“We never know that anyway,” said Lynceus with a shrug.
“Only one of us need take the chance,” said Acastus, “and it should be me. After all, I’m her brother.”
The boys all nodded at that.
Jason looked at them steadily. “Are we agreed, then, that we’re going to do it?”
“As long as we have that blood with us, we’re always going to be tempted to use it,” said Lynceus. “We may as well get it over with.”
“Idas?”
Idas nodded slowly. “I suppose in the end death is the one enemy we all face. Let’s see if we can beat him, just this once.”
“Admetus?”
Admetus answered by holding out the jar.
“All right, then,” said Jason, relieved that they’d come to a decision. He didn’t think Chiron would disapprove.
Acastus reached a hand out for the jar, but Admetus clutched it to his chest. “Not this time, Acastus. This time you’ll give way to me. I was beside her when she fell. If I had been quicker, I could have caught her. But I didn’t. I failed, just as I always fail back home in Pherae. Why else do you think my father sent me to Chiron to be trained?”
“It should be my responsibility,” said Acastus. “Are you forgetting the risk?”
“Yes,” Jason agreed. “The gods—”
“If saving a brave and precious life offends the gods,” Admetus said firmly, “then they can take out their anger on me.”
Now, for the first time, Jason could see that Admetus was truly a prince and a hero. It had little to do with where or to whom he had been born. It had to do with taking responsibility.
Even Acastus seemed to have a new respect for his cousin. He set his sister’s body back down on the ground and stepped aside for Admetus, who crouched by her and gently tipped over the jar.
A bead of blue liquid took shape on the rim and fell onto the girl’s brow. A second, smaller drop formed and fell onto the first, merging into a single stain. A third drop fell onto her lips, tinting them.
The jar was dry now, so Admetus set it aside and stood up and, with the other boys, waited for something to happen. It was so quiet in the cave, Jason could have sworn they had all stopped breathing.
The effect was not so dramatic as it had been with Kentauros, yet the boys were amazed to see the blue stain on Alcestis’ brow and lips gradually disappear, like rainwater soaking into parched ground.
Then the moments dragged by slowly with no sign of any further change.
“It didn’t work,” Lynceus cried. “There wasn’t enough of it.”
“No,” Admetus said, pointing. “Look!”
A tremor had begun to run through Alcestis’ body. Her chest moved up and down as she sucked new breath into her lungs. The fingers of her right hand twitched as though grasping air.