Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One by Bernard Evslin Page B

do that,” said Castor. “You’re too beautiful. It would be too much of a waste. There must be many young men who love you.”
    â€œThere was one I loved, but he’s gone. The king’s lizards caught him in a net and did dreadful things to him. You’d better go away, sir, or they’ll catch you, too. They follow me everywhere.”
    Castor saw her eyes widen in terror, and knew that she saw dragons coming up behind him. He stepped closer, whispering, “May I kiss you?” And felt the net fall over him.
    He didn’t resist as the three dragons dragged him to the beach. He drew deep into himself as he had trained himself to do before a fight. He let all anxiety drain away, and tried to draw upon all the sources of his strength, some of which were mysterious even to himself.
    He let them take him to the rock and chain him to its iron ring. He saw the crowd gather, watched the gulls thronging above in preparation for their feast. He made himself be absolutely passive because he wanted all the dragons to form their close circle around him. And he wanted them to be without suspicion.
    When the green monsters closed their circle about the rock, one of them opened crocodile jaws and spat flame. A narrow jet. Castor braced his legs and began to pull, trying to lift the rock. It did not budge. He strained harder. His tunic had burned away and the crowd saw his back muscles writhing like serpents. Another dragon spat flame, then another.
    Castor was prepared for pain, but he had been unable to imagine this kind of agony. “Father Zeus,” he groaned. “Help me—please …”
    Another dragon shot flame, aiming at his middle.
    Castor smelled flesh burning—his own, he knew—and the odor of it filled him with fury such as he had never known. Fury became strength. The crowd saw him sink toward the ground, then arise mightily, pulling the enormous rock out of the earth as a cork is drawn from a bottle. Astounded, they watched him pivot, swinging the boulder at the end of his chain. Saw him spin, faster and faster, and the tethered rock whirled in a murderous circuit, crushing dragons as it went.
    No one had ever heard the giant lizards make a sound before. But now they were howling, a rattling phlegmy screech as they fell before the rock. As they fell, however, they belched final fire at Castor, great gouts of it now until he was bathed in fire.
    But he kept whirling until all the dragons had fallen. Then he collapsed, falling among them, sprawling on the sand. The crowd had fled in terror. The green bodies lay still. Only the golden one writhed slightly. Castor, in agony, lay there praying for death to stop his pain.
    And that is how Jason and Pollux found him, lying on the sand among the broken lizards. Pollux gasped in horror. “What are these ghastly things?” he whispered.
    â€œWhatever they are,” said Jason, “he seems to have killed them all.”
    â€œBut they’ve killed him, too,” sobbed Pollux.
    Jason was kneeling at Castor’s side, touching him gently. “He’s still alive,” he said.
    â€œLook at him, though,” cried Pollux. “Half his skin’s burned off. He’s in awful pain. I’m going to put him out of his misery, then follow him to Tartarus. We have two bodies but a single soul. I can’t live without my twin.”
    Jason felt himself melting with pity, but he tried not to show it. He knew he had to imitate coolness. “Do you really want to die before avenging him?” he said. “Don’t you want to fight Amycus first? You owe it to your brother who has prepared the way. Besides, the giant might spare you the trouble of killing yourself.”
    â€œI know,” groaned Pollux. “I want to fight him. But how can I leave Castor in this pain?”
    â€œI can do something,” said Jason. He drew an arrow from his quiver and scratched Castor’s forehead. The