Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes by Rick Riordan
Robbers? he wondered. Bandits? Pirates?
Polyphemus ran to get Hercules. Together they searched the area. Hercules was so distraught about his missing sidekick that he forgot all about his mission, the Argo and his crewmates, who were waiting.
Back at the beach, Jason started to get worried. The sun was going down and the landing team still wasn’t back. He sent out a search party, but all they found were pottery shards by a stream. There were no signs of Hercules, Polyphemus or Hylas.
The next day, the Argonauts searched again for their comrades. They had no luck. The ship’s prow had no advice to offer. Finally, as the sun was setting, Jason announced that the Argo would have to leave in the morning. ‘We have to assume that Hercules and the others are lost. We must keep sailing.’
The crew didn’t like that. You don’t just sail away from Hercules. But the next morning their shipmates were still missing. The Argonauts reluctantly weighed anchor.
For days afterwards, the crew grumbled. Eventually, a few of them accused Jason of leaving Hercules behind on purpose so he wouldn’t have to share the limelight. Things were about to get ugly when a waterspout erupted off the port bow. Atop the column of spume sat an old man with fins instead of arms and a fish tail instead of legs.
‘It’s Poseidon!’ yelled Zetes.
‘It’s Oceanus!’ said Atalanta.
‘It’s that guy from The Little Mermaid!’ said Orpheus.
The merman sighed and flapped his arm-fins. ‘Actually, I’m Glaucus. But don’t worry. No one ever gets that right.’
The Argonauts muttered among themselves, trying to figure out who Glaucus was.
‘Oh, my gods!’ the ship’s prow said. ‘You people are embarrassing me! Glaucus was a fisherman who ate some magic herbs and became immortal. Now he’s like the Delphic Oracle of the sea!’
‘Ohhhh.’ The crew all nodded like they knew what the prow was talking about.
For the record, I’d never heard of him either, and I’m a son of Poseidon. I’m not sure what kind of herbs Glaucus ate to become immortal. All I know: the trade-off of losing your arms for fins and your legs for a fish tail doesn’t seem worth it. My advice: don’t go eating random herbs unless you want to turn into that guy from The Little Mermaid.
Jason stepped towards the railing. ‘This is a great honour, Glaucus! What brings you here?’
‘O Argonauts!’ he said, bobbing at the top of his waterspout. ‘Do not fret about your lost crewmates. It was the will of the gods that you leave them behind.’
Jason turned to the Argonauts like, See?
‘Hercules must return to his labours,’ Glaucus continued. ‘His fate lies elsewhere! As for Polyphemus, he will stay in that land and found a great city called Cius, so no worries.’
‘What about Hylas?’ asked Jason.
‘Oh, he’s dead. Drowned by some naiads. But otherwise everything is cool! Continue your voyage!’
The waterspout vanished. With a flap of his arm-fins, Glaucus did an impressive double backflip and disappeared under the waves.
So the Argonauts sailed on without their heavy hitter, Hercules, but at least they didn’t mutiny over the issue. The lesson of this story being … uh, don’t ask me. I didn’t even know who Glaucus was.
The Argonauts continued east through the Hellespont. They knew that eventually they would reach the Black Sea, but very few Greeks had sailed this far before. Nobody was sure how long it would take or what dangers awaited them. For all they knew, the entrance to the Black Sea required a special passcode.
They decided to stop at the next port and ask what lay ahead. Think about that. Fifty guys actually agreed to stop and ask for directions. That’s how lost they felt.
The next port was ruled by a king named Amycus. Such a friendly-sounding name – like amicus, the Latin word for friend. But Amycus was not friendly. At seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, he was known as the Man Mountain. Every time a ship stopped at his city, he made the same request.
‘Fight me!’ he bellowed. ‘Bring out your best boxer. I will kill him in the ring!’
Jason studied the king, whose fists were the size of cannonballs. ‘Uh, we’re just here for directions. We’re on a sacred quest –’
‘I don’t care! Fight!’
‘And if we refuse?’
‘Then I will kill you all!’
Jason sighed. ‘I had a feeling you would say that.’ He started to take off his shirt, since he was a pretty decent boxer, but another Argonaut stepped forward – a son of Zeus named Polydeuces. ‘I got this one, Captain.’
The locals busted out laughing. Next to their king, Polydeuces didn’t look like much. He was a featherweight at best. But you should never count out a son of Zeus. (Props to my boy J. Grace.)
The crowd made a circle around the two fighters, the Argonauts on one side, and the locals on the other. Amycus charged, swinging his massive fists. A single hit would’ve killed Polydeuces, but the Argonaut danced around, weaving and dodging, paying attention to the way Amycus fought. The king was strong, but he was also reckless. Every time he did a right hook, he overcommitted himself and stumbled forward.
The next time it happened, Polydeuces swerved to the right. As the king barrelled towards him, his head down like a sprinter’s, Polydeuces jumped up and brought his elbow down behind the king’s ear.
CRUNCH.
Amycus face-planted in the dirt and didn’t get up again.
The Argonauts cheered like crazy. The locals surged forward, determined to tear Polydeuces apart, but, wisely, the Argonauts had kept their weapons handy. They charged to protect their crewmate. The whole thing turned into a bloodbath. Jason and his men were badly outnumbered, yet they had more discipline. They conquered the locals, took a bunch of sheep for their trouble, loaded the Argo and sailed on.
Now, that may not seem like a big adventure, but it was the first time an Argonaut had owned someone in personal combat. Also, the crew had worked together to defeat a much larger force. Jason felt like maybe their luck was changing.
The only problem was they still hadn’t got directions.
Jason decided to ask the ship’s prow. ‘O great … piece of oak. What’s up?’
‘I’m good,’ said the prow. ‘You?’
‘I’m okay. So, look … any idea where the Black Sea is, or how we get there?’
‘Nope, but I can point you to somebody who knows. Sail east for two more days. Look for the ruins on the shore. There you will find an old man named Phineas.’
Jason tugged at his collar. ‘Thanks. But how do you know that? I thought you’d never been outside of Dodona.’
‘I haven’t, Mr Smarty Tunic. But Phineas is a seer with the gift of prophecy. I know about stuff like that since I’m prophetic, too. And I prophesy that, without Phineas’s advice, you’ll never get through the Black Sea or reach Colchis alive.’
‘Wow. Glad I asked, then.’
‘Yeah, that could’ve been bad. By the way, take the Boreads ashore with you when you go.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
As the prow had advised, they sailed for two more days until they spotted the ruins of a town. Even across the water they could smell the place – like a hundred dumpsters that had been cooking in the sun all summer.
‘This’ll be fun,’ Zetes grumbled.
He and Calais flew Jason to the shore. They searched the ruins, holding their sleeves over their noses to block out the stench. When they reached the town square, they found an ancient man weeping by the cold hearth. His hair and beard were like wisps of cotton candy. His clothes were rags. His bony arms were peppered with age spots. Strewn around him were mouldy breadcrumbs, bits of rancid meat and desiccated pieces of fruit. It wasn’t much food, but it was definitely the source of the stench.
‘Hello?’ Jason said.
The old man looked up. His eyes were milky white. ‘Visitors? No! Save yourself the trouble. Leave me in my misery!’
??
‘Boreads?’ The old man struggled to his feet. He stumbled forward, smiling toothlessly and swiping the air like he was playing Marco Polo. ‘Boreads? Where? Where?’
Zetes cleared his throat. ‘Uh, here. Why?’
‘Oh, happy day!’ cried the old man. ‘My curse may finally be lifted!’
He almost walked face first into a column, but Jason stopped him. Phineas’s breath was as fragrant as the food around his feet.
‘How about a deal?’ Jason suggested, trying not to gag. ‘We help you; you help us. Tell us what’s going on.’
Phineas heaved a sigh. ‘I have the gift of prophecy, you see. For years, people would come to me and I’d tell them whatever they wanted to know – winning lottery numbers, the date of their death, whom they would marry and whether they would get divorced. I told it all with no riddles, tricks or missing information. I didn’t even ask my clients for payment or wish them a nice day.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a problem,’ Jason said.
‘Oh, but it was! Zeus doesn’t approve of full disclosure. He only wants humans to get partial glimpses of the gods’ plans. Otherwise, he believes, mortals won’t need the gods any more. They’ll know everything! That would be bad for business at the temples and oracles.’
Calais grunted. ‘Zeus has a point.’
‘So he cursed me,’ Phineas said. ‘He took away my eyesight. He inflicted me with lingering old age. I’ve been eighty-five years old for the past twenty years. Can you imagine?’
‘Doesn’t sound like fun,’ Jason admitted. ‘But what’s the deal with … uh, all the stinky food scraps?’
‘That’s the worst part! I am plagued by harpies!’
Jason had never seen a harpy, but he’d heard stories about them. Supposedly they were bird-woman hybrids – sort of like chickens, vultures and frantic Black Friday shoppers all rolled into one.
The Boreads flapped their wings nervously.
Calais glanced at the sky. ‘I hate harpies.’
‘Imagine how I feel!’ Phineas demanded. ‘Any time someone brings me food, the harpies smell it. They swoop out of nowhere and steal my tasty treats. Whatever scraps they leave behind turn bad instantly. I’m left with just enough so I don’t die, but I’m always starving and nauseous. There’s only one way to stop them. Harpies have one natural enemy.’
‘Boreads,’ said Zetes. ‘Yes, children of the north wind despise harpies, and the feeling is mutual.’ He ruffled his purplish feathers in disgust. ‘We would gladly kill these harpies, but if they are a curse from Zeus we don’t want to get into trouble with the Big Guy.’
‘You won’t!’ Phineas promised. ‘That’s my escape clause! If Boreads defeat the harpies, I am free. Help me and I will tell you how to reach Colchis.’
Jason blinked. ‘How did you know we were going to Colchis? Oh, right. You’re a seer.’
The Boreads flew back to the ship to pick up some food. Then, right in the centre of the town square, the three Argonauts set up a picnic feast for the old man.
Phineas sat down. ‘Oh, it smells so good. Any second –’
‘SCREEEEEEE!’ Two harpies spiralled out of the clouds like kamikaze pilots, their ragged blonde hair and white dresses fluttering. A gust of wind from their storm-grey wings knocked Jason to the ground. Phineas dived for cover as the harpies trampled his food with their dirty talons.
Only the Boreads stood firm. They spread their purple wings and drew their swords. The harpies froze when they saw them. Then the bird-women hissed and shot into the sky.
For the record, harpies are fast. If they have to, they can outfly just about everything except military jets and Boreads. Even Zetes and Calais had trouble keeping up with them. They raced west, darting in and out of clouds, skimming the surface of the water, until finally the Boreads managed to grab the harpies’ ankles and bring them to the ground.
The Boreads pinned them down. The harpies hissed and scratched, but the Boreads were stronger. The brothers raised their swords to end the chicken ladies when a woman’s voice cried, ‘Time out!’
Shimmering before them was a woman with kaleidoscope-coloured wings, heart-shaped glasses and long hair braided with daisies.
Zetes gulped. ‘Iris? The rainbow goddess?’
‘That’s me,’ said Iris. ‘I bear a message from Zeus: these harpies are not for you to kill.’
Calais frowned. ‘But killing harpies –’
‘I know, that’s your thing,’ Iris said. ‘Normally I’m all about following your bliss, but this time you can’t. I promise the harpies will not bother the old man again. You have lifted Phineas’s curse. Now go back to your shipmates and have a groovy day!’
The Boreads were reluctant to let the chicken ladies go, but they didn’t feel like arguing with a goddess who still used the word groovy. They freed the harpies and sped back to their ship.
Meanwhile, Jason signalled the Argo and had his crew bring more food for Phineas. They got the old guy cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes. Then, while he stuffed his face, Phineas told Jason what he needed to know.
‘First, you have to worry about the Clashing Rocks. Oh, my gods, these biscuits are so good.’
‘The Clashing Rocks?’ Jason asked. ‘Is one, like, orange and the other lime green?’
‘No, silly Argonaut! They literally clash together. Bang, bang, bang!’ Phineas clapped, scattering biscuit crumbs everywhere. ‘The only way from the Hellespont into the Black Sea is a narrow channel between tall cliffs, but the cliffs aren’t anchored to the earth. They grind together, back and forth, slamming open and shut, like … like molars!’
Phineas opened his mouth. He pointed to his two remaining mossy teeth, which was a visual Jason could’ve done without.
‘What you do,’ Phineas continued, ‘is capture some doves. When you get near the Clashing Rocks, release the birds and watch what happens. If the doves fly through safely, then you know it’s a good day. The rocks are moving slowly. You might have a chance to row your ship through. If the birds don’t make it … well, you won’t either.’
Jason thought about that. ‘What if the birds don’t fly through the channel? What if they go in a different direction, or stop halfway and roost on the cliffs?’
‘They won’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know! Why do homing pigeons go home? Why do chickens go to sleep if you tuck their heads under their wings? It’s just bird nature! The doves will be compelled to fly straight through the channel.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense.’
‘Just roll with it!’ Phineas guzzled some wine. ‘Anyway, assuming you make it past the Clashing Rocks, keep sailing east for thirty days. You’ll pass a kingdom of sheep farmers. Ignore them. You’ll pass a kingdom of cow herders. Stop and trade with them. They’re good people. You’ll pass Amazonia. Don’t stop there. Bad idea. Finally, when the coastline begins to curve north, you’ll see some towers rising on a hill at the mouth of a river. That’s Colchis, the land of King Aeetes. You will find the Golden Fleece in the sacred grove of Ares.’
‘Thank you,’ Jason said. ‘So … you could tell me whether my quest succeeds, right? You know my whole fate?’
‘I know everything.’ Phineas belched. ‘Except, how did you make this mutton jerky taste so good? Gods, it’s awesome! I could tell you your entire future, Jason – the good, the bad, the very bad. But trust me; you don’t want to know.’
Sweat trickled down Jason’s neck. ‘Now I really want to know.’
Phineas shook his head. ‘Zeus was right when he cursed me. I can admit that now that my belly is full. No one should know his entire fate. It’s too dangerous and too depressing. Just keep going, do your best and hope it’s good enough. That’s all any of us can do.’
Jason felt woozy. He wasn’t sure it was entirely because of the nearby scraps of festering food. ?
The lines around Phineas’s eyes tightened. ‘No, it’s really not.’ His voice was full of regret. ‘Now get out of here, hero. I plan on eating my fill, taking a nice hot shower and dying. It’ll be a great day.’
By the next afternoon, the Argonauts had built a wicker cage and captured some doves (the latter of which was easy for the Boreads). They travelled for two more days before the sea began to narrow like they were sailing into a funnel. Sheer cliffs rose from the water on either side, offering no place to dock.
Finally, about half a mile in front of them, Jason saw what had to be the Clashing Rocks. They were perfectly colour-coordinated, which still didn’t make sense to him. On each side of a narrow hundred-foot channel loomed white-and-gold cliffs, like four-billion-ton wedges of vanilla ice cream with caramel swirls. Their tops pierced the clouds. The rocks were so huge and their patterns so wavy that Jason got dizzy just looking at them. He glanced behind him. The entire crew was leaning one way or the other, trying to compensate for the cliffs’ weird tilting.
It wasn’t just an optical illusion, either. As the Argo got closer, Jason saw the cliffs sway and lean, making the sea slosh back and forth.
Then, without warning, the two landmasses slammed together with a thunderous BOOM, rattling the ship’s oars and expelling a wall of water from the channel.
From the prow, Argus the shipwright yelled, ‘Brace yourselves!’
The Argonauts barely had time to grab the rails before the tidal wave crashed over them. Any lesser vessel would’ve capsized or been ripped to pieces. The Argo rode it out. Meanwhile, the Clashing Rocks pulled apart, spilling a cascade of caramel-coloured boulders into the channel – each rock as big as the Argo.
‘Okay,’ said Atalanta, ‘that was scary.’
Half the crew didn’t hear her. They were too busy throwing up over the side. The others were white with terror, still clinging to the rails.
‘We’re supposed to sail through that?’ Orpheus asked. ‘How?’
Jason felt pretty shaky himself, but he had to look confident for the crew. ‘We’ll send one of the doves through the channel. We’ll time how long it takes. If the dove makes it safely, we can, too.’