by Nancy Holder
“Enjoying the party?” Ludendorff asked her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I confess I’m not sure what we’re celebrating tonight.”
“A German victory, of course,” he said with relish.
“‘Victory?’” she echoed. “When I hear peace is so close?” He smiled. “‘Peace is only an armistice in an endless war.’”
It was a famous quotation. Her heart turned over in her chest. She understood what he was saying. And whose words he was using to say them:
“Thucydides,” she replied, referring to the Greek general who had written about the long, terrible war between the Spartans and the Greeks. Mnemosyne, Diana’s last tutor, had forced her to memorize long passages of his work. She had told Diana that Thucydides was one of Hippolyta’s favorites—and by that she meant both the work and the man.
“You know your Ancient Greeks,” he said. “They understood that War is a God. A God that requires human sacrifice.”
Her pulse quickened. Who would say such a thing besides Ares himself? She willed herself to remain calm. To dance. To bide her time until the proper moment.
“And in exchange, war gives man purpose, meaning,” he continued. “A chance to rise above his petty, mortal little self and be noble, better than he is.” He raised his chin. His eyes glinted. He believed what he was saying absolutely. It was his code.
There was no question now. This is Ares. A strange quiet came over her. She felt as if she had been born to do this. To take her sword and end him. She would let nothing, neither man nor God, stop her from fulfilling her destiny.
She became aware that he was waiting for her to speak. Her nerve endings were sparking; her blood boiled.
“Only one of the many Gods believed in that… and he was wrong,” she replied. She wanted desperately to grab her sword, but he was still holding her hand in the dance position. She knew that when she made her move she had to be unencumbered. There could be no way for him to escape.
“You know nothing about the Gods,” he said, taking a deep breath. And in that moment, the horns on a statue directly behind him seemed to protrude from Ludendorff’s own head. He looked like Ares in her mother’s triptych, gazing down with malice at the human race.
It is he. I am in Ares’s arms. I am inches from his heart, and I have the Godkiller. It is time.
But a soldier approached and hovered doggedly behind him as they danced. She gauged her ability to strike with the man so close. She must not be interfered with. “General?” the man said.
Ludendorff looked over his shoulder, then checked his watch. He let go of Diana and retreated a step, conferring with the man.
Then he turned back to Diana. “Enjoy the fireworks,” he said.
I must do it now. The shouts of Gods and Amazons chorused in her heart as she reached over her back again for the grip of her sword.
Before she could touch it, Steve moved between them, facing her. Smoothly, he pulled her away from the general, taking her hand, turning her—and starting to dance with her, as Ludendorff had done.
“What are you doing? Out of my way,” she demanded. It was barely a dance, more like a wrestling match.
He locked gazes with her. His mouth was set. “Diana, look at me. If you kill Ludendorff before we find the gas, we won’t be able to stop anything.”
After all this time, did he still not grasp the truth? She could not conceal her impatience and frustration. “It won’t matter,” she said, putting emphasis on every syllable. “I will stop Ares.”
“What if you’re wrong, Diana? What if there is no Ares?”
She gaped at him. “You don’t believe me,” she said. After all he had seen, all she had done, he still did not believe? No, he did not. He had lied to her, led her on all this time. Why? To get off our island. To escape back into this blood-drenched world and its horrible war. No matter. He had served as her messenger, summoning her to her destiny. Ares was real, and he was here.
But still, it hurt. Despite all appearances to the contrary, she was alone in a strange world. Her mission was not Steve’s, and never would be.
He searched her face. “I can’t let you do this.”
“What I do is not up to you,” she said. He held her tightly, as if to dispute that fact. She pushed him away with the tips of her fingers, expending the slightest effort but sending him reeling off-balance. Ignoring Steve’s wounded expression, she looked around for Ludendorff.
He was nowhere to be seen.
He’s gone! Diana thought, and she broke into a run. Grasping what was happening, Steve followed on her heels. Together they dashed around party guests and military officers, then burst outside through an open door.
There!
Steve joined her as they ran down a long dark hallway, bursting out onto a stone bridge. Ludendorff was disappearing through a turret door on their right. They began to follow; then there was a whoosh; they gazed up to the top of the turret as a projectile launched into the sky. It looked like a shooting star, but it was traveling away from the earth, not towards it. Fire arrows? No. No arrow could leave a trail of flame like that in its wake.
Coming up beside her out of breath, Steve wheezed, “The gas.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the path of the missile across the sky. Diana calculated the trajectory in flight—and realized to her horror what the target was:
“The village!” she cried. Their village, Veld, all the people they had saved—
They ran then, across the bridge and past scattered partygoers who had come to see the show. A few startled glances were shot their way: a German officer pursuing a beautiful woman? Too much champagne?
Among the trees, Steve lost her as she dashed ahead and mounted her horse. She took off at a full gallop, and he could only watch.
In a fury, she raced against death, and time itself. The missile arched high up, up into the sky.
And then it disappeared over the horizon with its payload of death.
16
Lounging with the other chauffeurs, the whooshing sound made Sammy drop his Gunga Din act and look up, muttering curses in five languages. He knew that sound as he knew his mother’s voice—a rocket had just launched—and he knew, given who was hosting this gala, what was likely riding on the tip of the projectile that had been sent off. He took a moment to scan for Steve, but didn’t see him. He was worried for his leader, more worried still for whomever would be on the receiving end of the rocket’s journey.
Plan B on all their ops was to rendezvous at the meeting point—in this case, back in the forest. Sammy knew it was time to go.
In all the hubbub, it was easy for him to jump back in the limousine. No one pursued; eyes were on the sky as he sped like the Devil himself, constantly checking the rearview mirror, hoping Steve had gotten away too.
Across the bridge, the guards unconcerned; back through the trees, so eerily calm; into the forest.
Spotting Charlie and the Chief, he hopped out of the car. Coming alongside the Chief, he stared up at the exhaust trail that hung like strands of gray cotton in the night sky. Where was Diana?
Charlie was training his scope on the commotion at the castle.
“What are they cheering for?” Sammy asked.
He glanced over at the Scot as Charlie shifted his aim point, swinging it across the front of the building. Charlie abruptly lowered the rifle, an astonished look on his face. When Sammy turned back, his jaw dropped as he saw a figure on horseback, racing through the forest at tremendous speed—in the direction opposite of where they stood. It was the Amazon.
“Diana!” Sammy cried.
Next Steve galloped up on a horse as well, pulling hard on the reins, making his horse skid to the stop. Horse and rider were both out of breath. Steve didn’t dismount.
“Where did they fire?” the Chief asked him.
“The gas. It was Ludendorff,” Steve replied, which actually—tragically—answered the Chief’s question.
Gas had already b
een Sammy’s first guess; now that was confirmed. As a party favor, the German general had deployed the most terrible, the most indiscriminate weapon ever created. His last attempt, Sammy guessed, to derail Germany’s surrender.
Charlie peered through his scope, scanning the grounds. “I saw. He’s on the tower,” he announced.
“Where he goes, you follow him,” Steve said. Then he wheeled his horse around, applied his spurs, and took off after Diana.
“How will you find us?” Sammy called after him.
“I know how,” the Chief assured Sammy.
* * *
This stupid dress. It encumbered Diana, making it difficult for her to sit astride a horse that was running full tilt. She ripped it off and flung it into the air. The fabric floated down on the path behind her like a trail of blue smoke. Leaning over the horse’s neck as it raced, she spoke into its ear. “Faster,” she urged. “Faster.”
The horse reared its head, eyes wild, and then laid its ears back and valiantly put on a burst of speed. The trees blurred, the impacts of the horse’s hooves rippled through Diana’s legs and up her backbone. She drove her mount to its breaking point, and held it there. Lives hung in the balance.
Then she heard and felt the explosion. Very close. Close enough to make the ground shake and the horse falter in mid-stride and catch itself. She pressed her knees to its flanks, urging it forward. She would not stop until she had done whatever she could for Veld.
Seconds later, when they burst out of the forest, the field in front of them was draped in noxious, swirling fog. She should have been able to see the village from here, but she could not. Everything was blanketed in bright orange poison gas.
Diana pulled back on the reins; no need for this faithful horse to be harmed. She dismounted. It whickered; she patted it to stay and then she ran forward into the acrid orange smoke.
Into the valley of death.
The square loomed before her, barely visible in the clouds of gas.
The pretty little café with its awnings.
Gone. Blasted to bits.
The tables grouped around the fountain.
Gone.
The inn.
Gone.
But the victims were not gone. They lay where they had collapsed, almost as if they were asleep. People she had danced with, shared bread with. The woman who had pleaded with her to save them. The people who had shaken her hands. The photographer. All dead.
“No. Oh no, no, no,” she whispered, raking her hands through her hair, pressing her hands against her temples, as she staggered through the fog. The uncanny, unnatural stillness. Silence. This place, a tomb.
I failed them. I knew he was Ares and I did not act.
The poison still lingered over the square, as if seeking one last victim. She wandered in a daze, unable to comprehend the souls of men who could create such evil. To deliberately wipe out an entire village like this. To do it from afar, in their safe castle with their champagne and waltzes. Without honor, preying on the innocent. They could only have been inspired by Ares, mass-murderer of the Gods and of this world.
Then she saw the little children she had seen chasing each other through the square. Their parents, this world, robbed of them. Their lives stolen. The human sacrifices he had boasted of. And for what?
For what?
This was her breaking point. This was her final call to action. Nothing would stop her, nothing. Collision course. Fate. Destiny. Though it cost her everything:
Ares, I am coming for you now.
I will not let you see another sunset.
* * *
Veld.
Steve leaped off his horse and raced toward the bright orange cloud, aware of the death it carried and that Diana was probably already in there. But as he reached the edge of the poison fog he began to hack and cough. Still he stumbled forward.
Then a dark form took shape in the middle of the cloud, growing more and more distinct as it moved towards him. His heart pounded; he trembled with hope. Let it be her. By some miracle, let her be all right.
Diana stepped from the smoke, completely unhurt.
“Diana! Diana!” he shouted, his heart soaring.
He swung down from the saddle and ran across the field to her. She raised her arm and pointed at him. “They’re dead. They’re all dead!” Her voice shook with barely controlled rage. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I could have saved them. I could have saved them if it weren’t for you!”
Rattled, he held out his hands to her. She kept her distance. “You stopped me from killing Ares!”
He reached for her. “No.”
“Stay away from me!” she shouted. “Now I understand everything. It isn’t just the Germans he’s corrupted. It is you too. All of you.”
He knew she was in shock, in terrible pain. Had seen hell first hand. Behind her, the cloud of gas began to lift and disperse, its terrible damage already done. They were too late, and he had known they would be too late. He had told her about this war—the scope of it, the savagery. But he could not have hoped to prepare her for it. What was happening—had happened—was unthinkable. And he was sorry, so very sorry, that he couldn’t make it vanish with a sword thrust.
She looked hard into his eyes and said, “I will find Ares and I will kill him.”
What could he say? How could he argue? Before he could respond, a trail of smoke in the sky caught his attention. Not the arc of another missile. This plume drifted straight up. A smoke signal, created in the Native American fashion, to announce to Steve that the team had picked up Ludendorff’s trail.
“Diana,” he said, “that smoke. It’s the Chief. They followed Ludendorff. Follow the smoke.”
Before he could say another word, she leaped onto the back of her horse and rode off like a whirlwind.
“Diana!” he called after her. He had meant that they should follow it together. He started to get back onto his own horse; then as the poison cloud continued to dissipate, he spotted an abandoned motorcycle on the side of the road that led into the village. He ran over to it, pulled it upright, and straddled the seat. He put his right foot on the starter pedal, bracing his left foot on the ground.
Let it start, he prayed as he stomped the pedal. The engine caught on the first try, roaring to life with a twist of the throttle.
Someone, somewhere was listening.
* * *
I will run him to ground.
Diana flew through the dark forest, giving her horse its head, trusting it to know the true path. The reins dangled loose in her hands as she gripped the horse’s mane and pressed her things against its flanks, making horse and rider one. The stalwart animal dodged tree trunks and veered around low-hanging branches, vaulting ditches with the heart and skill of a warhorse. They burst out onto the main road and the horse’s iron-shod hooves sparked as they crashed down.
If the team had Ludendorff in sight, there was still a chance to destroy him. She couldn’t take Ares by surprise as she had planned, but take him she would. Face to face, toe to toe. To the death. This would be his last night on Earth, the end of his reign over mankind. Veld would be his final abomination.
Over the horse’s bobbing head, she saw that the way was blocked by a security checkpoint. The Germans had set up a barrier to traffic, or what they thought would be a barrier. As she galloped toward it, two of the soldiers stepped out in front and one of them raised a gloved hand for her to stop. When she didn’t slow down, the guards exchanged worried looks, then in unison shouldered their rifles. Before they could fire, she was on them. She split the space between them and her horse’s wide shoulders, knocked them aside like bowling pins a second before it launched itself over the barrier. The third sentry backed out of the way. He was too stunned to raise his weapon.
Diana gave the horse a nudge with her spurs, rounding a bend in the road, putting herself well out of range.
* * *
Steve had the motorcycle throttle wide open, trying to get within sight of Diana. Bu
t he couldn’t seem to catch up to her no matter how fast he went. Soon he became unsure whether she was still ahead of him at all. Perhaps she had veered off the path? But where? He slowed down a bit, hoping to pick up her trail. He quickly gave that up as pointless and killed the engine. He strained to hear the beat of horse hooves, but the only sound was the soft wind in the treetops.
He restarted the engine and drove on. Down the road a quarter mile, he spotted a security post. Confident his German uniform would protect him from a potshot, he rode closer—close enough to see the soldiers manning the barrier looked injured and dazed. One of them was clutching his arm like it was broken. No doubt about it, Diana had passed this way. He felt a surge of relief that he was on the right track and gunned the engine to pick up speed. Then he turned the bike into the forest, roaring off through the trees.
* * *
Diana looked up as she rode on, searching for the sign in the sky. Patches of deepening darkness were already cloaking the canopied trail. Her anxiety building, she pressed on through the forest, urging her mount to speed up its headlong gallop.
She smelled the wood smoke long before she saw it rising up through a gap in the branches. Finally, a course to follow. She spurred the horse, turning it toward the thin gray column. Then she caught a flicker of orange flame through the trees. Charlie, the Chief, and Sammy stood around the fire they had made.
Spotting her before the others, the Chief raised his hand and pointed to the top of the hill beyond them. Charlie and Sammy looked at her expectantly. From their body language, Diana realized they thought she was going to dismount and confer with them before proceeding. There was no chance of that, not if Ares was near.