AN: This one took awhile to write because I got writer's block. (again) Hope you like it.
After what seemed like an eternity, the wind stopped, the skies cleared, and the raging river transformed into a gentle one. We pulled over to a small sandy beach and pulled the raft up into the trees. Abigail got to work, tying bandages around her brother's bloody head while the Julian found nectar and ambrosia in Maria's beach bag. "We have to take stock of our supplies," announced Isis. "Each person take a bag. Abigail, take Scott's." Mine held a shorted-out flashlight, a dead cellphone, liquidized "waterproof" sunscreen, a broken bar of soap, a water-filled baggy of ambrosia squares, a leaking jar of nectar, a few very wet five dollar bills,a few drachma, nine arrows bound together with a sodden string, a bow, two spare knives in addition to the dagger belted to my waist, a sleeping bag in a waterproof bag (dry, thank the gods), some spare clothes, slightly damp, a dozen bagels and two packs of cheese in a sealed plastic bag, and, amazingly, my still functioning laptop. My bag was a mess. Fifteen minutes later, Isis wanted us to share our findings. "Report. Only things that are useful to us please. No garbage. I'll start. My bag will survive. I have a pack of trail bars, twelve slightly bruised apples, a sweatshirt, my sword, of course, some ripped shirts, and a tube of toothpaste. Maria?"
"My bag will also survive. I have a pack of gum, my spear, a pocketknife, a blanket, a fishing rod and line, and a rain poncho. Julian?"
"Alas! My bag was ripped to shreds beyond repair!"
"Enough drama, boy. Get on with the report," snapped Maria.
"Aye aye, Captain Mermaid. Two frozen bags of ramen, a can of beans, a can of pineapple, a box of raisins, a sword, a knife, a towel, a few socks, and a lock pick." A lock pick? He must've gotten it from the Hermes kids.
"Hey," exclaimed Abigail. "How come he gets to carry most of the food?"
"Because we don't have to worry about me eating it, O Demoness of Gluttony."
"Enough. Abigail, what do you and Scott have?" Isis interrupted Abigail's comeback.
"Both of our backpacks, for one thing. His had everyone's water bottle, six potatoes, a bag of rice, a knife, a whistle, a blanket, a surprisingly large bag of candy, and four pairs of underwear. I have a knife, a shield, a ski coat, a bag of trail mix, and a first-aid kit. Hermione?"
"My backpack, nectar, ambrosia, money, a bow, arrows, two knives, my dagger, a sleeping bag, spare clothes, bagels, cheese, and a laptop."
"Let's stop here for the night. Maria, Smarty, move the raft up more so that it won't be seen. Abigail, find a place to put your brother. He's your responsibility." We hurried up and obeyed her orders, dropping the raft like a brick in the center of the clearing. We piled our supplies together and worked out a sleeping arrangement. Scott would sleep in between the tubes in the raft wrapped in Maria's blanket, called "thwarts", with Abigail in her coat and Julian, who donated his towel to Maria, on either side of him, separated by the large rubber tubes. Isis, Maria, and I stationed around the raft, and everyone except Scott would take a turn at sentry. I had the worst watch, the one right before dawn, when you can't catch up on your sleep and you feel miserable the whole day because of it.
We were too tired to do anything, even cooking, so instead we each had an apple and dozed off. But of course, my dreams couldn't be peaceful. At first, they were. I heard jazz music playing, and smells of coffee and cinnamon buns and brownies filled the air. But then I could see. The scene was a dimly lit cafe somewhere. Outside, I could see flashes of lightning and pitch black skies. The thunder was almost as loud as what I had just been through. A teenager wearing a silver circlet, drenched jeans, a silver rain jacket, and a desperate expression was sitting at a table, chugging down a cappuccino. Next to her was a young woman whose clothes flickered between Greek battle armor and a leather jacket, pounding her fist angrily. A tall woman with gray eyes was having a serious conversation over a chessboard with a twelve year old girl stroking a white wolf that would only be taken for a seeing-eye dog with the help of the Mist. "She has arrived," the woman said gravely. It was Mother. "We must tell her the truth." The other three murmured in agreement. "Very well. My dear, we are in great danger. We need you to hurry. Soon our forces will be overwhelmed and bloodshed will be unavoidable."
"I know you wish to protect your daughter, good sister, but she must know."
"It could destroy her," argued Athena.
"She has the heart of a true maiden. She'll endure. Show her. Our fate depends on it!" urged Lady Artemis.
"Fine. Look, my daughter. This is how the war lies." She shoved the chessboard towards me. Everything else disappeared as either I shrunk or it grew. The only thing that I could hear was Mother's voice and rain pounding on the roof. "Look well, and see the faces of the pieces."
They were no longer white and black chessmen. The black queen became Athena, and her king Poseidon, brandishing his trident. Their bishops were Demeter, holding a bushel of wheat and muttering a benediction for peace, and a young girl holding a torch and an ancient jar; Hestia with Pandora's "box". On either side of them were Lady Artemis, ready for battle, and Clarisse, proving that "armed to the teeth" wasn't just an expression. On the corners of the board were Hades and Hecate. Standing in front of them where the pawns go were Morpheus, Persephone, Iris, Nike, the Hunters of Artemis, Clarisse's squad, Nico, an army of skeletons, Annabeth, Percy, a collection of Cyclopes, Chiron, Isis, Maria, Abigail, Scott, Julian, and me. It was impressive, until I looked across the board.
Zeus and Hera sat in thrones of white marble. Flanking them were a gleeful Eris and a devilishly seductive Aphrodite. Ares cracked a knuckle from his position as a knight, and Apollo looked pleadingly across to his sister, begging her to desert to his side. Janus juggled his ring of keys as his fellow rook, Nemesis, planned her revenge. All of the other minor gods and nature spirits and satyrs stood in front of them. They outnumbered us by like twenty to one. Hephaestus shook his head apologetically and Hermes sighed regretfully. And the biggest shock was in the center of the line, with an evil glare on his face and a lightning bolt in his hand. It was Julian.
Why was one person in two places? I wondered. But as I thought it, I knew. They weren't the same person. They were both Julian, but an unmade choice separated them. Either one could be the real one. But we wouldn't know until he chose. My thoughts were interrupted when Zeus yelled a command and his forces stepped forward until only one row of squares separated the opposing armies.
Then came a series of dizzying images. A golden thread connected the two Julians. The one on Zeus's side reached around and severed it with a sword sparked with electricity. His counterpart on our side dissipated in a cloud of dust. With manic glee and eyes glowing with lightning, he alone destroyed half of our forces. Then the image changed. The Julian that I knew broke the connection. As his doppelganger dissolved, he rushed out into the small space between him and Zeus's front line. Everyone froze. Even Ares was completely still. No one made any move to attack. Slowly, Zeus's army retreated across the board.
"This is what we would like to happen," said Mother softly, making me jump. She waved her hand. Artemis rode forward with the Hunters at her side. They dodged and killed, trapping some, retreating from others. But eventually they reached the thrones. Thalia captured Hera and Artemis stood in front of their father, arrow nocked and at his throat. "Checkmate," whispered Athena. "Now you know why you are so important. You must bring him and reinforcements to us. It is our only hope. You are the world's only hope." As the scene faded, I saw the remaining Julian, my Julian, be replaced by a skeleton lying at the foot of a marble tombstone. With a horrible burst of intuition, I realized that we would win, peace would be assured, but the price would be his life. How could I bring him to his doom? I remembered the prophecy. "You"ll deliver your friend to the cruel jaws of Fate."
In the darkness, a voice spoke to me. An amused-sounding female voice. "So you figured it out. Athena and the others don't care about you, or who has to die for them to get what they want. They want the throne of Olympus for themselves."
"No they don't. One of the reasons they oppose Zeus is his plan to kill some of the half-bloods. They care about me!" I shouted back.
"No, dear. That's exactly what they want you to think. They've brainwashed you into believing that rubbish. What loving mother would ignore her daughter for years, ask her to risk her life on a foolish mission, and then allow her true love to be killed for it? Think about that." And then I was left alone.