Chess
Artemis was not having a good time at all. It was supposed to be his birthday,
but the intruders from the ship had ruined it. He held himself. How many times must he tell himself this?
The blond girl dropped in to the cabin, her eyes shooting a thousand darts at him. "Chiron needs you," she said in a neutral tone, stalking off immediately after she conveyed the message. Artemis lay on the bed, utterly spent. How was he ever going to manage in this infernal camp. He had to play his pieces correctly. Otherwise he might end up in a bad situation.
Annabeth was infuriated with herself. How could she not figure out problems like this one? She stomped to the tether-ball post, knocking it so hard that the ball flew high and hit Connor Stoll full in the face. And this European first class high born snob supposedly had the highest tested IQ in Europe. She would like to see how he tackled the situation.
The counselors were gathered at the Big House, discussing the different ideas about the sword in the crater. Suddenly,, the door opened and a vampire stepped in. Several counselors gripped their weapons, Clarisse brandishing Maimer around. But the restrained themselves, as Chiron and Mr. D appeared to be calm.
"Hello, Artemis."
"Good morning, Chiron." The campers in the room looked stricken. Everybody always referred to Chiron with lots of respect. Chiron was still calm.
"We have a problem here. We would like your help to solve it. Judging by your IQ, we thought you might be able to." Chiron had a still face, but beneath the unmoving features lay a certainty that he was one-up one this boy.
"We found an extensive digging in the area of central Ireland, under the pretense of construction. We sent a spy-" He nodded to a messy boy, who had a lofty grin. "- to find out about this. We managed to get a digital photo-" He pulled out a piece of paper.
The Vampire, who was of course, Artemis, suddenly felt a draining feeling.
On the picture, there was a sword. A green sword. He had seen that image before, on parchment, painted with natural colors. The sword of the First King of elves.
Artemis closed his eyes, moving the pieces of information in his head like a jigsaw puzzle. No, like a chess board. He already had the queen of information, putting his opponent under a check, but no way to secure the other path. He racked his brains. If Greek Gods really existed.... he smiled. He had the other rook in place. Checkmate.
"The sword belongs to someone who is long dead. But it seems as though our enemy has resurrected him."
