Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes

  ‘And if the dove doesn’t make it?’ asked Polydeuces.

  ‘Then we wait for another day. Or we try to go overland. Or … I don’t know. But the gods will be with us! We’ve come this far. We can do it!’

  The crew didn’t look convinced, but they moved the Argo a little closer to the Clashing Rocks. As soon as Jason judged that the cliffs were as far apart as they were going to get, he released the first dove.

  Just as Phineas had predicted, the bird flew straight for the channel as if its tail feathers were on fire. Argus kept count. ‘One Mississippi, two Mississippi …’

  He got to thirty Mississippis before the cliffs slammed together. The crew hung on as another wave crashed over the ship. When the rocks parted, the Boreads flew to the entrance of the channel to look for signs of the bird.

  When they returned, their faces were grim.

  ‘A little stain of feathers and blood on the side of the cliff,’ Zetes reported. ‘The bird made it halfway through – then, splat.’

  The crew winced in unison.

  ‘We’ll try again tomorrow morning,’ Jason said. ‘And the next morning, if we have to.’

  ‘What if we run out of doves?’ asked Atalanta.

  ‘We could always send one of the Boreads through,’ suggested Orpheus.

  ‘Shut up, Orpheus,’ said Calais.

  The next morning, Jason got everybody ready. The crew manned the oars just in case they got the go-ahead. The Boreads hovered near the cliffs so they could watch the bird’s progress. Argus was all set to keep count.

  Jason waited until the cliffs were pulling apart. Then he released the second dove. It shot towards the channel. Argus counted to sixty before the cliffs slammed shut again.

  As the Clashing Rocks separated, the Boreads frantically waved their arms over their heads – the prearranged signal that the bird had made it through safely.

  ‘Go!’ Jason yelled. ‘ROW, ROW, ROW! Sixty seconds!’

  The Argo lurched forward so quickly the hull groaned. The crew rowed like demons as Orpheus played ‘Shake It Off’ at double tempo to keep them motivated. The currents helped, pulling the ship into the channel as the cliffs drifted apart. But still … getting through that passage in only a minute seemed impossible.

  Thirty-two seconds gone, and they were less than halfway. The Clashing Rocks loomed above – swirling white-and-yellow teeth of doom. Their deep shadows chilled the sweat on the Argonauts’ backs. Rubble showered down to port and starboard. Huge cracks webbed the cliff sides, threatening to rain down curtains of rock. At sea level, the stone was embedded with old timbers and the bones of past crews who had tried to make the passage.

  ‘Fifteen seconds left!’ cried Argus. ‘Faster!’

  He didn’t need to tell them that. The crew was rowing so hard they weren’t sure which would break first – their oars, or their limbs.

  ‘I see the other side!’ Calais cried, flying above the mast.

  RUMBLE. The Clashing Rocks began to close.

  ‘Ten seconds!’ yelled Argus.

  The cliffs groaned. As they slammed shut, snapping the ship’s oars, a tidal wave lifted the Argo and carried it out of the channel into the Black Sea.

  ‘Yeah!’ Jason cheered. But the crew was too shaken up to join him.

  ‘That,’ Argus said, ‘was a little too close.’

  Fortunately, the ship was still in one piece. The Argonauts could continue their journey as soon as they found new oars and changed their soiled loincloths.

  For weeks, the Argo skirted the coast and got into all sorts of trouble. They stopped at the island where Otrera had built a temple to Ares, found it defended by killer feather-throwing birds and barely escaped with their lives. They accidentally landed in Amazon territory and got away just before the queen’s army could catch them. They lost two crewmembers – one to sickness, one to a wild boar attack. They battled monsters, lost their way, ate stale junk food from Anatolian truck stops and got pulled over at that infamous speed trap on the outskirts of Sinope.

  After a month of hardship, the Argo finally reached the mouth of the Phasis River, where the towers of Colchis rose on a nearby hill like the hilts of swords sheathed in the earth.

  Gazing at the warships in the harbour, the town walls and the fortifications of the palace, Jason realized he could never take this place by force. Even with the best crew and the best ship, he was hopelessly outmatched.

  ‘I’m going to approach the king under a flag of truce,’ he told his crew. ‘I’ll try to bargain for the Fleece.’

  ‘What if Aeetes captures you and kills you?’ Zetes asked. ‘Why would he give up his prized possession?’

  Jason managed a smile. ‘Hey, if I can work out a deal with Pelias, I can work out a deal with Aeetes. I’m an old pro at negotiating with murderous kings.’

  The Argonauts had to give him full points for bravery, but they were still worried. Jason put on his best robes – the same clothes he’d used to impress the Queen of Lemnos. Then he entered the city with only an honour guard.

  Meanwhile, up on Mount Olympus, Hera had been following Jason’s progress. So far she was pleased. (Especially since Hercules was no longer in the picture. Ugh, she hated Hercules.) Still, she was worried about Jason’s chances with King Aeetes.

  She sat down for a strategy meeting with Athena, who, for once, was on Hera’s side. Both goddesses wanted the Golden Fleece back in Greece.

  ‘Jason can never overcome the Colchians by force,’ Athena said. ‘There are the skeleton warriors, the dragon, the Colchian fleet –’

  ‘Yes …’ Hera smiled coldly. ‘But there is also Medea.’

  ‘The king’s daughter?’ Athena toyed with the gorgon-head pin on her Aegis. ‘How does that help? She’s a sorceress.’

  ‘She’s a woman,’ Hera said. ‘And Jason is a handsome man.’

  Athena wrinkled her nose. ‘You want to get Aphrodite involved? I don’t know, Hera. Love is an unreliable motivator.’

  ‘Do you have a better idea?’

  For a change, Athena didn’t.

  They found the goddess of love in her apartments, where a dozen magical brushes were combing her hair the required five thousand times to give it that extra bounce and shine.

  ‘Ladies!’ said Aphrodite. ‘Have you come to take me up on that offer for a pedicure? This is wonderful!’

  ‘Uh, no,’ Hera said. ‘Actually, we need a favour. We want to make someone fall in love with Jason.’

  Aphrodite’s eyes gleamed. ‘Well, Jason is super hot. That shouldn’t be a problem. Who did you have in mind?’

  ‘Medea,’ Athena said. ‘The daughter of King Aeetes.’

  ‘Oh …’ Aphrodite pouted. ‘Then we do have a problem. That girl is hopeless. She spends all her time in the temple of Hecate learning magic. She is cold, heartless and power-hungry, just like her father! Do you know, one time she conjured Selene down from the moon and made her fall in love with a mortal, just to see what would happen?’

  ‘I’ve heard that story,’ Athena said. ‘The characters were interesting, but the plot was a little far-fetched. Anyway, if Medea is messing with love magic, she’s trespassing on your territory, isn’t she? What better punishment than to make Medea fall in love with her father’s enemy?’

  Aphrodite shooed away her squadron of magic hairbrushes. ‘Hmm … that’s true. I’ll send Eros down to make Medea fall in love with Jason. But I have to warn you, a love spell on someone like Medea is unpredictable. She’ll be just as fierce in romance as she is with her magic. If things go badly between her and Jason –’

  ‘It’s worth the risk,’ Hera said, proving once and for all that she could not see the future. ‘Just cast your magic!’

  Worst. Matchmaking. Ever.

  Down in the mortal world, Jason was escorted through Aeetes’s palace. The place was off-the-hook awesome. Silver and gold doors opened and closed on their own. In the central courtyard, four fountains each spouted a different liquid – water, wine, oliv
e oil and milk. Why anyone would want that, I’m not sure, but the Argonauts were impressed.

  ‘Dude,’ muttered Zetes. ‘A milk fountain? This king must have pull with Hephaestus. Only a god could create something as awesome as a milk fountain!’

  ‘And check that out!’ Calais pointed.

  On the other side of a massive hall, in an enclosed pen, two giant bronze bulls were clanking around. Their eyes glowed like lava. Every time they breathed, their nostrils shot flames. Even from across the room, Jason’s robes crinkled and steamed from the heat.

  He began to wonder what he’d been thinking, coming to Colchis. Clearly, King Aeetes had the edge when it came to cool toys.

  They found the king seated on a golden throne shaped like a sunburst. He wore golden armour that had once belonged to the war god, Ares, which Jason knew because it still said PROPERTY OF ARES in permanent marker around the collar. At the king’s left stood his son, Prince Apsyrtus (which sounds like absurdus); his oldest daughter, Chaliciope (which doesn’t sound like anything, because I can’t pronounce it); and the four children she’d had with Phrixus, aka Curly the Greek, now sadly passed away. On the king’s right stood his younger and more dangerous daughter, Medea – priestess of Hecate, stone-cold murderess, all-around party girl.

  Jason bowed. ‘Your Majesty, I am Jason, rightful heir to the throne of Iolcus. I have come to bring the Golden Fleece home to Greece!’

  His statement was kind of a stupid rhyme, but no one laughed. King Aeetes leaned forward. His eyes glittered like obsidian. He examined Jason as if pondering all the interesting ways he could die.

  ‘No Greek has ever sailed to my shores,’ said Aeetes. ‘I’ve never even seen a Greek except for Phrixus, who brought us the Fleece. To come so far and to ask such a favour, you must be either very brave, or very stupid.’

  Jason shrugged. ‘Let’s go with brave. The gods want me to succeed. Hera has blessed this voyage. Athena herself designed my ship. Aboard the Argo are demigods of every kind: sons of Boreas, sons of Ares, sons of Zeus –’

  ‘This does not impress me,’ snarled the king. ‘I am the son of Helios!’

  ‘We’ve got one of those, too. The point is, my lord, I look around your kingdom and I can see that the gods favour you. Hephaestus has given you two bronze bulls and fountains that spew oil and milk. Ares has given you a set of hand-me-down armour. I hear he also gave you a sacred grove. Your dad is Helios. Your lovely daughter … I see from her vestments she is a priestess of Hecate?’

  While Jason spoke, the love god, Eros, had been standing invisibly in the crowd, waiting for the right moment. As soon as Jason said your lovely daughter, Eros shot Medea in the heart with an arrow of love, then flew away snickering.

  Medea’s pulse quickened. Her palms turned sweaty. Before, she’d been staring at Jason with contempt. Now … why hadn’t she noticed how handsome and noble he was? No one in Colchis would dare stand up to her father that way. Jason’s courage was remarkable. Medea’s in-love-with-a-Greek meter went from zero to sixty in three-point-five seconds.

  ‘Clearly, sire,’ Jason continued, ‘you got where you are today by honouring the gods. So honour their will once more! Give me a chance to prove myself. Assign me any task to win the Golden Fleece.’

  Aeetes tapped his diamond rings against his throne’s armrest. ‘I could simply kill you now and burn your ship.’

  ‘But you won’t,’ said Jason, trying to sound confident. ‘Because a wise king would leave the matter to the gods.’

  Aeetes’s four grandchildren, the sons of Phrixus, gathered around him and took his hands.

  ‘Please, Granddad!’ one said. ‘We’re half Greek, too! Dad always told us stories about Greece.’

  Aeetes scowled. ‘Your father came here because the Greeks wanted to use him as a human sacrifice!’

  ‘But this man is different,’ said his grandson. ‘At least give him a chance!’

  The king shooed them aside. Aeetes found the ‘impossible task’ form of execution unnecessarily complicated, but if it taught his grandchildren a lesson about Greek stupidity perhaps it was for the best.

  ‘Very well, Jason,’ said Aeetes. ‘I won’t ask you to do anything I wouldn’t do. You mentioned my sacred grove of Ares. Whenever I need extra warriors, I take some teeth from my bucket of discarded dragon incisors …’

  His grandchildren jumped up and down, clapping in excitement. Oh, boy! He’s going to do the dragon-teeth challenge!

  Jason’s mouth felt dry. ‘You have a bucket of discarded dragon incisors?’

  Aeetes smiled. ‘Well, I have a dragon. So, yes. The dragon guards the Fleece to protect it from … unauthorized visitors. Anyway, I take these old teeth to a field just below the sacred grove. I harness my team of bronze bulls and plough furrows where I plant the teeth like seeds. I water the teeth with a little blood and presto! A crop of warriors springs from the ground.’

  Jason blinked. ‘Um, okay.’

  ‘Tomorrow, you will prove that you are as great a king as I. If you can grow a crop of warriors, you may take the Golden Fleece and sail back to Greece. If not, well …’

  He didn’t say You will die painfully, but it was sort of implied.

  Jason felt like asking for a different challenge, perhaps something involving pie eating, but instead he bowed. ‘Tomorrow, then, sire. With your permission, my men and I will make camp on the shore by your docks.’

  Jason locked eyes briefly with Medea – maybe because he noticed the strange way she was staring at him. Then he and his guards turned to leave.

  As soon as possible, Medea fled the throne room. She could barely breathe.

  ‘What is wrong with me?’ she hissed, stumbling through the corridors. ‘I’m not some schoolgirl! I am Medea. How can I feel anything for a man I just met?’

  Jason’s image burned in her mind – his noble face, his brilliant eyes, the way his lower lip quivered when he said, Um, okay. What a man!

  Medea knew that her father’s challenge would be suicide for Jason. She couldn’t bear the thought of that brave, handsome Greek being barbecued by the bulls tomorrow morning.

  In a daze, she ran to the shrine of Hecate deep in the woods. Medea had always found comfort and clarity there before. She stared up at the statue of the goddess, who was depicted with three serene faces – one gazing left, one right and one centre. In Hecate’s raised hands, giant torches burned with eternal blue fire.

  ‘Goddess of the crossroads,’ Medea said, ‘I need your guidance! I’m in love with Jason, but if I help him my father will surely find out. He’ll banish me or kill me. I’ll sacrifice everything!’

  The statue of Hecate remained silent.

  ‘I want to marry the Greek,’ Medea said. ‘But … but why? What’s come over me? Would he even love me back? Would he take me away with him? Could I really betray my family and leave my home for a man I barely know?’

  Her heart answered Yes.

  The statue continued to stare in three directions, as if to say Hey, you’re at a crossroads. Deal with it.

  Medea felt both annoyed and excited. ‘Gah! I am a fool. Before I risk my life for Jason, I will make him promise to love me.’ She ran back to her magic laboratory and spent hours mixing a special ointment. Then she wrapped herself in a dark robe and sneaked away to the Argonauts’ camp.

  At around two in the morning, Jason and his advisers were still awake having a strategy meeting. They’d seen those fiery bulls, and the Argonauts were trying to figure out a way to beat Aeetes’s challenge without Jason being burned alive. So far, their best plan involved three thousand bags of ice and a large pair of cooking mitts. It wasn’t a very good plan.

  A guard knocked on the tent pole. ‘Uh, sir? Someone here to see you.’

  Medea pushed her way inside. The men gasped.

  The Argonauts were no strangers to scary women. They sailed with Atalanta. But Medea was a different sort of terrifying.

  The princess’s hair was as dark as shadow, tumb
ling over the shoulders of her black silk dress. On her golden necklace gleamed the symbol of Hecate – two crossed torches. Her expression was remorseless and detached, the way a public executioner might look as he swung his axe. Her eyes flickered with knowledge of dark things – things that would drive most men mad. Yet when she looked at Jason her cheeks flushed like a girl’s.

  ‘I can save you,’ she said. ‘But you have to save me.’

  Jason’s pulse hummed in his ears. ‘Guys, give us the room.’

  The Argonauts filed out uneasily. Once they were gone, Medea gripped Jason’s hands. Her skin was cold. ‘When I saw you, I fell in love instantly. Please, tell me I’m not crazy,’ she begged. ‘Tell me you felt it, too.’

  Jason wasn’t sure what he felt. Medea was beautiful, no doubt about that. The Clashing Rocks had been kind of beautiful, too.

  ‘Um, I … wait. What did you mean about saving me?’

  ‘My father’s task is impossible. Surely you know that. No mortal can handle those metal bulls. My father only manages to do so by wearing the armour of Ares. Anyone else would burn to death. But I can stop that from happening.’

  From her belt, she pulled a small vial of ointment. ‘If you rub this on your skin before the challenge tomorrow morning, you will be immune to heat and flame. The ointment will also grant you great strength for several hours – hopefully long enough to steer the bulls and plough the field.’

  ‘That’s awesome. Thank you!’ Jason reached for the vial, but Medea moved it away.

  ‘There is more,’ she said. ‘If you do manage to sow the field, the dragon teeth will sprout into skeletal warriors. These obey only my father. They will try to kill you. But I can teach you how to defeat them. And, after that, there’s the matter of stealing the Fleece.’

  ‘But if I win the challenge Aeetes will give me the Fleece.’

  Medea laughed harshly. ‘My father will never surrender it. If you beat the challenge, he’ll simply find another way to kill you. Unless you accept my help.’

  ‘And … what do you want in return?’

  ‘Only your undying love. Swear to me that you will take me back to Greece. Swear by all the gods that you will marry me and never leave me. Promise me that and I’ll do everything in my power to help you. By the way, I have a lot of power.’