Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

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THE CENTAUR WAS ANGRIER than Jason had ever seen him before. He was so angry, he didn’t just stamp his hooves and make the earth shake like a drum or roar till all the caves of Mount Pelion echoed with the sound.

No, he was far too angry for that.

He lined up the six boys and paced up and down before them in threatening silence, his hooves padding softly on the grass, his fists clenching and unclenching in a broken rhythm. His unspoken disapproval was like a heavy boulder pressing down on all of them, and Jason most of all.

Especially, Jason thought, because my mouth is so parched and there is a dull throbbing behind my forehead and my limbs ache and I have bumps like small hillocks all over my body. He shook his head to clear it, which just made things worse.

Why can’t I remember why I feel this way? Something about the night before. A revel? He had never been to a revel before.

“Chiron, master …” Prince Acastus began. He always used the centaur’s title when he wanted to wheedle his way out of trouble.

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