Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One by Bernard Evslin

at me like that?”
    â€œDo something for me. Wash the dirt and blood off.”
    Jason went to a stream, dipped his head in, and swabbed his face with a handful of dry grass. He came back to the Spartan.
    â€œYes …” said Pollux. “It grows more and more curious.”
    â€œWhat does?”
    â€œYou’re the lad we saw in the stump water, my twin and I. We are to go voyaging with you. We shared a vision at the stump and saw you captaining a ship that was sailing toward strange encounters.”
    â€œI don’t know what all that means, but it sounds marvelous.”
    â€œAre you saying you don’t know anything about an expedition you’re supposed to lead? How can that be?”
    â€œI was told that if I survived your visit I would be seeking adventure to train me for kingship.”
    â€œWho told you?”
    â€œA seal.”
    â€œDo you usually hold conversations with seals?”
    â€œThis one serves Poseidon. Why do you look so doubtful? Talking seals are as believable as stump-water visions.”
    â€œWell, I can tell you what your first adventure will be. We’re going to Bebrycos, you and I, to help my brother fight a brass-headed giant.”
    â€œOh joy! I haven’t done much fighting, but I’m a pretty good archer.”
    â€œWe’ll teach you whatever you need to know,” said Pollux. “You’re our little brother now.” He drew Jason to him and pressed his bleeding knuckles to the boy’s clawed shoulder. “Our blood has mingled,” he said. “We’re brothers. Which means you’re Castor’s brother, too.”
    â€œI couldn’t ask for anything better.”
    â€œGather your sleepy arrows, Little Brother. Fill your quiver. We’re off to Bebrycos at the turning of the tide!”

10
    The Scorching
    When Castor landed on Bebrycos he spent a few days scouting the island before challenging its ruler. His only knowledge of the giant and of those he ruled was what Peleus had told him, and he decided to see for himself what the situation was.
    He pretended to be an old crippled man, a beggar. Donning a ragged black cloak, he stooped to half his height, hid his face in the cowl, and went limping about the island, occasionally thrusting a bowl at people, begging for food in a high quavering voice.
    He learned that Amycus ruled by terror, that even his courtiers were not safe because he would be taken by gusts of rage, seize the nearest person, and pound him to a pulp. Only the Royal Guard, who were the twenty wingless dragons, was safe from his furies. He would kill anyone who displeased him. Some offenders were chained to a rock at a low tide and would spend hours waiting for the rising tide to cover them. But since sharks prowled very close to shore, only the lucky ones drowned.
    A prime offender, anyone who dared look too long at any girl Amycus was interested in, was given to the guard for special treatment. The dragons would take the man to the beach, shackle him to a massive iron ring sunk into an enormous charred boulder, and stand in a circle blowing flame at him, one dragon at a time—roasting him inch by inch until his screams were heard in the castle, making Amycus smile. Some victims tried to shorten their agony by beating their head against the rock, but only a few had wit enough to do that.
    These torture sessions drew big crowds, and the old beggar sidled among them, unnoticed, observing everything. He felt an idea forming. He tried to fend it off, because it was unspeakably perilous, but the idea kept coming back, and he knew he would have to think it through.
    Upon this day, the spectators were disappointed. The man being burned was inconsiderate enough to die quickly. The crowd drifted away. The old beggar stayed on the beach watching the gulls. Attracted by the smell of burned flesh, they were diving, screeching, waiting for the body to cool so that they could feast. In the