MAIN TITLE: The Keeper of Fate
WARNING: See first chapter for warnings.
NOTES: Thanks to MeganLeBlanc, Disabled Profile, Queen Alexandera's Birdwing, Guest, dreamin'BIG and angel2u for reviewing this chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own the PJO series. Rick Riordan does. He also owns the dialogue at the end of the chapter, which I took from the last chapter of The Sea of Monsters.
Chapter 11: The Fleece Throws Us a Curveball
For the first time this summer, life is peaceful. There's still someone guarding Thalia's tree at every second of the day, but at least there are no more monster attacks and no more injured campers being dragged into the infirmary. In fact, with the help of Chiron and the other centaurs, many campers are leaving the infirmary almost entirely uninjured. Well, the centaurs didn't help that much with the actual healing, it was mostly Chiron. Still, they were great for, um, morale boosts.
When they finish 'helping', though, they decide it's time for them to take their leave. They were only at camp for one night, but they almost drove Mr. D crazy (which is ironic because Dionysus is the god of madness). So they depart, after supplying the Apollo cabin–and unfortunately the Stoll brothers–with arrows that have boxing gloves on the end. Neither Chiron nor Mr. D is sorry to see them go, though Tyson seems a little put out. Apparently the centaurs were just starting to teach him the rules of paintball.
Chiron surprises everyone by proclaiming that the chariot races are still happening. So everyone gets back to work, rebuilding their chariots and forging weapons and, in the case of the Stoll brothers, scheming up ways to take out the competition during the race without appearing too underhanded. Their real goal, after all, is to make people laugh.
Meanwhile, Gareth once again switches to military officer/evil dictator mode, insisting that we work ourselves into the ground because with Tyson, Percy, and Annabeth all on the same team, we're doomed if we slack off for even an instant. Though I have to agree with him after I catch a sneak peak of their chariot and the javelins Tyson made. Because trust me, Tyson's weapons always kick butt.
We work hard for the next two day, preparing the chariot itself, mechanical horses with the ability to shoot out steel cables, a command console to control everything, and leather pouches full of Greek fire to blow stuff up (surprisingly leather can contain the volatile green powder, but unfortunately it's not an ideal material for cannon balls).
I help Gareth with the horses. I actually don't mind the animals when they're made of metal and they don't fly. Still, I definitely don't want to be the one sitting in the chariot they're pulling and neither does Gareth, so the job of steering falls on Zeth while Beckendorf defends (and attacks). Jake wants to take one of their places, but frankly I don't trust him in any sort of vehicle, whether he's the one driving or the one throwing explosives around. The rest of my brothers agree, so he just has to settle with helping to program the console while he sulks.
When Gareth and I have done as much with the horses as we possibly can, Beckendorf and Zeth attach them to the chariot and take them out of the Armory to practice. The rest of us all sit a distance away and watch.
It moves beautifully; I watch the horses gallop with such grace that one could almost believe they're real. I think we have a good chance of winning, which is good because I really want us to win. Well, not necessarily win, per say, it's more that I want to beat Jackson. …What's that? You want to know why I don't like the kid?
Well, I wish I could tell you it's because he's arrogant and stupid, or because he's technically not supposed to exist (sacred oath that forbids the Big Three from having kids ring any bells?) but it isn't any of those things. He's actually pretty modest most of the time, and he can be intelligent on occasion. The last part is true, of course, but it's also not his fault. And despite the fact that I'm not too fond of him, I do respect him.
But I still haven't answered your question. Okay, it's stupid, but…if it weren't for Jackson, we wouldn't have known who stole the Master Bolt from Zeus. I could've just gone on enjoying my ignorance. I'm sure reality would have eventually slapped me across the face, but I could've been happy for just a little while longer. Of course, maybe that would've just made the pain worse in the end, but somehow it's hard to imagine how it could have possibly hurt more.
Or maybe the Master Bolt would've never been retrieved in the first place and Poseidon and Zeus and Hades would've gone to war. Maybe civilization would've just been destroyed altogether.
I sigh and lean back against the tree trunk behind me, ignoring the questioning glances from my brothers.
So now you know why I don't like Jackson. I just can't help but think that maybe ignorance really is bliss. And yeah, that's a stupid reason to dislike someone, but my reason for respecting him is probably even more stupid. The reason I respect him has nothing to with him surviving a trip to the underworld or defeating the war god in battle or even retrieving the Golden Fleece and saving the camp.
I respect Percy because of what he's done for Annabeth. He's saved her life a few times, yes, but he's also…I don't know, revived her faith in humanity? Close enough. I swear she smiles more around him then I've ever seen her smile before. I can just tell that he'll never turn his back on her the way her father and her step mom did. He'll never leave her or abandon her like Thalia unwillingly did, like Luke knowingly and purposely did.
I can see it in the way he'll ask her about architecture and listen to her ridiculously long rants–even though he has no idea what she's saying and her speech bores him to tears–just to watch her face light up. It's in the way he almost always volunteers to go on border patrol with her, not because he thinks she can't handle herself, but instead because he wants to spend as much time with her as he possibly can. It's in the way he'll run headfirst into a fight with monsters ten times his size without any regard for his own life the second he thinks she's in danger (though he hasn't done this recently, because there aren't any monsters attacking anymore…for the most part).
So while I don't agree with the Aphrodite kids when they insist that Percy and Annabeth are in love (Annabeth is only fourteen and Percy is still thirteen, for Zeus' sake!), I'm almost certain that Percy will always be there for her. Almost, because there was a time where I was absolutely certain that Luke would always be there for me, and look how that turned out.
I snap out of my thoughts when I hear Zeth make a comment about Beckendorf's crush on Silena. The younger boy retaliates by attempting to shove Zeth out of the chariot with his huge hands. I smile slightly when they nearly capsize, and when Gareth screeches at them to be careful with the equipment. The chariot comes to a halt and the boys jump out.
Muttering under his breath about irresponsible dunces, Gareth leaps into the chariot and urges the horses to bring it to the stables (ha, the Pegasi aren't going to like that). I pick myself up off the grassy ground, trudge back to cabin nine, and open the door, only to hear the conch being blown in the distance. With a groan, I slam the metal door shut and head over to the mess hall with the other campers.
I hope we win the race tomorrow, but more than anything I hope I can somehow let go of my unjustifiable dislike of Percy. Because all it really does is make me wonder if maybe I'm not as over Luke as I like to think I am.
We lose. That was blunt, I know, but I'm too distraught to break it to you gently. The news that the Hephaestus cabin didn't win had better bring your spirits down at least a little bit, because I'm going to be extremely angry with you if I find out that you were rooting for another team.
I suppose it wasn't that bad. I mean, Jackson knocked Beckendorf out of the chariot and then nearly killed Zeth by throwing a leather pouch with Greek fire in it at him (though to be fair, Beckendorf threw it into Jackson's chariot first), but at least no Stymphalian birds attacked this time.
And I guess Percy and Annabeth made up for it by finally giving Tyson the credit he deserves. It's about time that Jackson publicly recognized Tyson as his brother. Beckendorf, for one, was getting sick of hearing "He's not my brother! We only share half of our DNA, and it doesn't even count because gods don't really have DNA!" all the time.
On the other hand, Annabeth did kiss Percy on the cheek, which will give the Aphrodite kids lots of ammunition for their 'Percy-and-Annabeth-are-madly-in-love-even-though-they've-barely-even-reached-puberty' theory. Oh well. They're the ones that have to deal with the consequences; the only reason I'm mad about it is I bet Cheryl that they wouldn't kiss until Percy was at least fifteen. Cheryl, who is not as dumb as she sometimes seems, cleverly reminded me that I did not specify that the kiss had to be on the lips. Basically, I lost two drachmas. And I have to refrain from pranking her for an entire week. Sob.
Oh well. Things happen; boyfriends turn into evil villains and break your heart, civilization gets threatened, trees get poisoned, you lose chariot races, and, most unfortunately, your arch nemesis gets full bragging rights.
That's just how life goes, I guess.
The horses pretty much got destroyed, so that afternoon Gareth and the boys lug them back to the Armory so we can fix them. The chariot races are over, of course, but you never know when mechanical horses capable of shooting out steel cables will come in handy.
Beckendorf and I take one horse and the rest of the guys take the other. Beckendorf and I always make a great team; he's super awesome at anything that involves forging (in fact, he's almost too awesome) and I'm absolute crap at it (well, compared to my brothers and Tyson, that is; I'm actually pretty spectacular compared to the rest of the campers). We balance each other out.
Anyways, we manage to heave the thing onto a table (and when I say 'we' I mean Beckendorf). Then we stare down at the ruined horse.
"So, uh, where do we start?" I question. "Not the brain, right? 'Cause then it might come to and try to kill us or something." See, I actually am quite capable.
"Normally, I'd say you were right, but this time… We can see everything that's wrong with the horse on the surface, but the inside wiring is a different story. The only way we'll know what's wrong is to see the thing in action." Beckendorf looks at me apologetically.
Humph. He'd better be apologetic. He totally just crushed my dreams, which involved me not being as hopeless as I think I am.
"Well then, Mr. 'Look-at-me-I'm-magic-with-tools', do your stuff."
He grins, and then obeys.
"Hand me that screwdriver, will you, Dess? No, no, the other one…"
It's been two hours and we're still going. It's really hot in here so I'm sweating a little. I raise my arm and wipe motor oil off of my cheek with the back of my left hand. We've fixed up the head and the back legs, and the main body (sorry, I don't really know horse terminology; deal with it) doesn't need too much work to begin with. The hind legs, though, are a bit of a problem. And by a bit, I mean one of them shot out and hit Beckendorf in the face. Now he has a hoof-shaped blue and purple mark on the right side of his face, though it's very faint because his dark skin masks it almost completely.
"Right, I've almost got it," he murmurs, using the screwdriver I just gave him to–hmm, let's think–maybe unscrew a screw? I mean seriously, what else would he do with the thing? Wait, don't answer that.
"And…there, I got it," he crows happily. With huge but somehow still nimble fingers, he removes the panel and starts tinkering with the wires.
"Now, Dess, I need you to–" his words are cut off by the horse's kick. When the metal leg pulls back, Beckendorf is sporting a bruise on the left side of his face that matches the one on the right almost exactly.
"Don't even," my half-brother growls as I start to laugh. It's hard to take him seriously, though; the huge bruises on either side of his face, however faint, make it looks like someone has–very badly–applied very light blue and purple eye shadow to his cheeks (and believe me, I know what I'm talking about).
Once I stifle my laughter, he says, "Now, as I was about to say–" (he throws a resentful glare at the horse) "–I need you to hold down the back legs."
His expression is such that I don't even argue. I hold the cool metal against the flat, also metal table (pretty much everything in here is metal) while Beckendorf once again launches his fingers into the mess of copper and bronze circuitry.
"Need help?"
My head jerks up. "Tyson! Holy Styx, you scared me!"
"Sorry. Didn't mean to." He grins at me toothily and my heart just about melts. He's huge, but when he smiles he looks almost exactly like a little boy begging his mom for just one more bedtime story.
"S'okay, Tyson, it was an accident." I smile, but then I look back down at the horse because if I'm not careful, my grip might slip and then Beckendorf will be in for a world of hurt. Again.
"Hey, big guy, what are you doing here, anyway? You come to help us with the horses? Or are you going to build another sword-shattering shield?" Beckendorf's tone is light, teasing, despite the fact that he whined about his broken blade for nearly half an hour. He's not angry, though. Beckendorf and Tyson are good friends; and anyways, it's almost impossible to stay mad at the cheerful Cyclops.
"No. Came to say bye."
My head snaps up so fast that I swear I almost get whiplash.
"Bye? What do you mean 'bye'?"
"Daddy sent me dream last night. Said I should go underwater and work at forges with the other Cyclopes." He beams.
"Oh, Tyson, that's great…" I let my voice trail off, because I'm sounding gloomier and gloomier by the second. I can't believe he's leaving.
"Yes, it is great," Beckendorf says firmly. Then he pauses in his work for a minute and glances up at Tyson. "But I'm really going to miss you, big guy."
"So am I," I tell him.
"I will miss you both too," he says, and his voice quivers just a little bit. "But I want to make swords and spears and other pointy things for camp."
"And you will." Beckendorf smiles, then starts on the horse again.
"Yeah, you will," I echo. "You'll make great swords and spears and other, er, pointy things."
I feel like I'm going to start crying (not really, though, I rarely ever cry). I knew this was coming. Gareth recognized the Cyclops' talent when he first got here, and he's been pestering Dad to pester Poseidon about sending him to the Cyclopes' forges ever since (and by pestering I mean sending letters through the Hermes cabin, asking him about it when offering up part of his meal at dinner–and breakfast and lunch–, et cetera, et cetera). It's not that he wants Tyson gone; it's just that he thinks the son of Poseidon has a lot of potential, and he doesn't want that potential to be wasted (though to be honest, I think Poseidon would've offered Tyson an internship without being prompted).
"Thanks." Tyson smiles again.
We lapse into silence for a few moments. Beckendorf asks Tyson to pass him the pliers, which he does. Then he asks me to make sure that I'm holding down the horse's hind legs with all of my strength. Meanwhile, Tyson is holding down the front legs.
I can see why my brother is being so cautious; the wire he's about to cut is dangerous. The horse might lash out if we're not careful. This knowledge makes me nervous. In order to distract myself, I ask Tyson, "When are you leaving?" Because he must be leaving soon, if he's already saying goodbye. Maybe he's leaving tomorrow.
"After I say bye to Percy."
"And when are you saying goodbye to Percy?"
"Right after this."
I gasp. "You're leaving today?"
Tyson nods. Without thinking, I let go of the mechanical horse's legs and throw my arms around the Cyclops. Tyson releases the front legs and hugs me back.
And then, for the third time today, there's the sound of metal colliding with flesh.
"DESS!"
Oops.
Needless to say, Beckendorf is pissed at me. But he (mostly) forgives me when he sees how miserable I am about Tyson leaving. After helping us fix the horses, Tyson pulls both of us into bone-crushing hugs. He also says goodbye to Gareth, Jake, and Zeth (who is honestly still a little afraid of the Cyclops, though he's fond of him, too).
When the goodbyes are finally over with and I actually have started crying (just a little bit; don't tell anyone, or I WILL hunt you down and cause you serious pain), Tyson glances around the Armory wistfully and at last leaves the forges, presumably to go find Percy and give him a bone-crushing goodbye hug, too.
Next, we head over to the Arena and train. Beckendorf challenges me to a sword fight and promptly kicks my butt, proving that he's not above getting revenge even after he's already (mostly) forgiven people.
Then we head over to the dining pavilion, and after that… Well, actually, nothing exciting happens after that. It looks like the rest of the summer really is going to be peaceful. And boring, but in a good way.
There is one thing that could be classified as interesting, I guess. As I climb into to my bed and try to sleep, a storm rages, unleashing its fury on everything outside the camp's borders. The only time it has ever rained here (that I know of) was last summer, when Zeus and Poseidon were both pissed about having their symbol of power stolen and being accused of being the one to orchestrate the theft of that symbol of power, respectively.
Tonight, though, not even a drop of rain falls within the camp's boundaries. But I can still hear the thunder crashing outside the valley in the distance, and it's a long time before I get to sleep.
"Luke? What was Thalia like?"
Luke glances up and at the same time ceases all movement with his hands, which were expertly moving an antique sword back and forth across a whetstone in an attempt to polish the worn blade. I can tell from the way his face tightens that the question shocks him. This isn't altogether surprising, considering the fact that I rarely ever ask him about Thalia. He doesn't like to talk about her with anyone, except maybe Annabeth. But he and I have been friends for several months now, and he makes me talk about personal stuff that I don't want to talk about all the time, so I'm technically just evening things out.
And besides, I'm curious…
"I–" For a second I think he's going to refuse. He looks down at his now clenched fists and then meets my expectant (and slightly impatient) gaze. He gently sets the sword on the ground.
"What was she like?" he repeats the question, and when I nod he takes a deep breath and says, "Thalia was…amazing. She was a rebel; she always wore black and she wouldn't just accept what people told her, she had to see it or hear it for herself. She was more stubborn then you can imagine. She never let anyone talk her out of anything. She would run into battle without any fear at all, carrying that freaky shield of hers, Aegis. Even when she was injured, she insisted on fighting beside Annabeth and me. She was really gentle and warm with Annabeth, though, despite how she always pretended to be the lone wolf. Annabeth was like her little sister."
"What about before Annabeth showed up?"
"Well obviously, things were different when it was just the two of us. I don't remember exactly where I met her–to be honest, I don't even remember what state I was in. State boundaries didn't mean much to me when I was on the run. They were just lines on a map. I was always running away from something, but I was never really running to anything. I had no goal in mind; the only place I was headed was somewhere away from all the monsters…" he trails off, staring at a lovesick satyr chasing a coy wood nymph, but I can tell he's not really seeing them.
"But you found Thalia, right?" I ask, my voice equal parts encouraging and impatient.
"Yeah, I found her. Or maybe it's more appropriate to say that she found me. It was midnight, and a few dracanae were following me. I was in some big city, and I turned on random streets and went through narrow back alleys, trying to shake them off. But it didn't work. They sensed me; I knew exactly what I was, what they were, and there were no other demigods around to confuse them…or so I thought. Finally I ended up in some deserted school yard, and before I knew it they had me surrounded."
"So what happened? What did you do?" It's stupid, because I know that he obviously got out of there alive, but I can't stop anxiety from leaking into my voice.
"I drew my sword. I wasn't sure if I could take them all–there were at least seven–but I certainly wasn't going to just stand there and let them kill me. So I charged them. I took out two easy, but the other five just kept coming. So finally one of them manages to knock my blade out of my hand, and she's about to go in for the kill–and then suddenly she's being sliced to pieces.
"I was shocked, of course, but it didn't take long for Thalia and I (once I pulled myself together and got my sword back) to finish them off. So when they're all dead, and there's golden dust everywhere, and I'm wondering who the hell this random girl is and whether or not she's a demigod, Thalia turns to look at me and says, 'You know where I can buy a cheeseburger?'"
I nearly choke on my laughter. "Shut up. She did not say that."
"She did. And that was all I really needed. When I left that big city that same night, she went with me."
"So that's Thalia, huh?"
"Yeah." He runs his hand through his sandy blond locks. "That's Thalia."
I stare at him, analyzing his face, trying to figure out what it is about his expression that makes me so angry and so sad and so jealous. He's just a friend, but I hate the way his lips curve upward when he says her name.
The words burst out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Did you–did you love her?"
He looks startled. "What do you mean?"
"Well, um, you two were really close, right? And I was just wondering if you, you know, loved her. As in, were you in love with her?" I try to sound casual, nonchalant, but I think he sees through my pathetic disguise.
"Dess." He smiles just a little, at the same time shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You always have to ask the most intrusive, personal questions, don't you?"
"Excuse me, what the heck is that supposed to mean?" My tone is immediately confrontational.
He laughs. "I'm just kidding, Dess."
I turn my face away, and he hesitates. He reaches forward and tugs on my ponytail. When that doesn't work, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. Then he drops his hand and meets my eyes and gods, everything hurts, and I can't breathe…
But his words make the pain go away. "No. I wasn't. I was never in love with her."
My muscles relax, and suddenly I can breathe again.
In the distance, thunder booms.
I know something's wrong even before I open my eyes. I can feel it in the air; on my skin. My hair stands on end as I get up and throw on armour over my pyjamas. I'm halfway to the door when my brothers start to stir.
"Dess, what…" Zeth's words are cut off by his yawn. "What's going on? What are you doing?"
I don't even pause to look at him. I continue to the door and wrench it open, tossing a simple "Hurry up and get your armour on" at him over my shoulder. I can hear Jake complaining about my crappy advice and my lack of an explanation, but I don't stop.
Already, a few people are starting the trek up Half-Blood Hill. I follow them. Grover slams into me and doesn't even bother apologizing. I don't even make a scene. I just let him continue running to Percy's cabin.
The morning air feels bitterly cold on my skin. I shiver, regretting my choice of sleeping attire. Of all the nights to wear a sunshine yellow tank top (with very thin straps) to bed… Oh well. At least I'm wearing black sweat pants, which are pretty warm. Most of the other campers are also in their pjs. Lee Fletcher is shirtless, Katie Gardner is wearing a nightgown, and Cheryl is clad in short shorts and a very obviously hastily thrown on sweater. I have a feeling that the 'shirt' she sleeps in is more like a bra.
We gather around the base of the tree; the Fleece glitters in the branches, gold shining in the weak sunlight. Annabeth is there, kneeling beside a girl clothed almost entirely in black.
"...she almost always wore black..."
I look up at the now crimson sky and think of the storm last night. I think of the dream I had, and what Luke said to Percy in the Iris-message a few days ago.
"I was going to let you take the Fleece…once I was done with it."
Then Chiron comes thundering up the hill, Percy on his back.
"Curse the titan lord." The centaur's voice breaks through the silence, and it seems almost deafening. "He's tricked us again, given himself another chance to control the prophecy."
Terror runs through me as goose bumps ripple across my skin. The prophecy. Oh gods, is this the point where I'm supposed to interfere? What am I supposed to do?
"What do you mean?" Percy asks. His voice is shaking a little. Poor kid has no idea what's going on.
"The Fleece," Chiron says quietly. "The Fleece did its work too well."
They canter forward, and Cheryl pulls me out of their way. Because I can't move on my own. I'm frozen, all my muscles locked. Fear, overwhelming fear, courses through my veins, and it feels like my blood is on fire.
"It healed the tree. And poison is not the only thing it purged." Chiron's voice is rough with fear and unease as he says the words.
Annabeth runs over to them. "It…she…just suddenly there…" She barely manages to choke out the words. There are tears streaming down her face.
Percy jumps off Chiron's back and races toward…her. He ignores Chiron's "Percy, wait!" and instead kneels by the girl's side.
"It's true. I can't believe…" Grover is out of breath, having just made it up the hill.
Percy touches the black-haired girl's forehead and then says, "She needs nectar and ambrosia."
He takes her by the shoulders and gently forces her to sit up. No one runs off to retrieve the godly drink or food.
Angered, Percy shouts, "Come on! What's wrong with you people? Let's get her to the Big House."
As shocked as I am, I want to laugh out loud. Does he not realize what's happening? Doesn't he know who the girl he's holding is?
Just as I think this, the girl takes a shuddering breath and coughs. She opens her eyes, and though I can barely see them from her, I know they're blue–electric blue. She looks panicked and confused and she trembles as she looks at Percy.
"Who–"
"I'm Percy. You're safe now." His tone is soothing.
"Strangest dream…"
"It's okay."
"Dying," she whispers, and suddenly I unfreeze.
I revert back to the girl who stood all those years ago, staring at the pine tree in the distance as she heard the story of the brave and determined daughter of Zeus, who loved her friends so much that she gave her life to save theirs. And suddenly I'm not filled with terror or jealousy. Pity and amazement flood me as I stare at her.
"No," Percy says firmly. "You're okay. What's your name?" But surely he must know by now.
Beckendorf and the others at last come running up the hill. They swarm in around me and stare at her, stunned. Jake grips my arm for support. He looks like he's going to throw up from the shock of it. Gareth and Zeth exchange grim looks. Out of the five of us, they're the only ones who have actually seen the black-clad girl before. Of course, they only saw her from a distance, and she was dying at the time. But they still recognize her.
"I am Thalia," she says, and the sound of her name being spoken aloud seems to shatter the entire world. "Daughter of Zeus."
Author's Note: I hope you liked the scene with Tyson (who unfortunately is not going to be in the story very much) and the short scene with Thalia. I don't think the books ever say how Thalia and Luke met, so obviously I made that up.
Reviews are appreciated.