“Got it. Hekatombaion. Party at the spring. All the cool kids will be there.”
“Who are the cool kids?”
“Ouch. Okay, you and I will be there.”
Diana had the distinct sense that Alia didn’t intend to be at the spring at all, but she could worry about that later. She braided a strand of Khione’s mane into her own hair and did the same for Alia, then helped her board and bent to grab the edges of the raft.
Diana shoved the raft forward into the water. She leapt atop it, feeling the surf surge beneath her. She let out the sail the barest amount and set her hand to the tiller.
As they raced over the sea, Diana glanced back at the little cove, watching it grow smaller with every passing second. It’s not too late, she thought. Turn back. Let the island do its work. Instead, she told Alia to ease the sail and watched the wind fill the canvas. The raft shot forward over the crest of another wave, sliding down the other side with a stomach-lurching drop.
They passed the rocks that marked the boundary and entered the mists. There was no shift in temperature this time, and Diana wasn’t sure she’d know when they’d made the crossing. The waves seemed wilder here, but it was hard to tell. Then Alia tilted her head to the sky and took a deep breath. Diana could see the color in her cheeks returning. Were the earthquakes ceasing on Themyscira? Was Maeve opening her eyes? Or would some sacrifice be demanded to purge the island of Alia’s influence?
Diana looked back at her home. She’d never been this far out before, never seen the island from such a great distance. The mists parted briefly and she could see its shape, the curve of its coastline, the towers of the Epheseum at one end and the great dome of Bana-Mighdall at the other, the crests and valleys of its mountains like a green odalisque.
The mists closed. Themyscira was gone. If she tried to return now, would the island know her? Would she be able to find it? Would it welcome her back?
Back to what? a dark voice inside her asked. What if she could return? What if the Oracle didn’t tell Hippolyta how horribly she’d betrayed her people? If she remained on the island, she would only ever be Hippolyta’s coddled daughter. She would never be allowed to find her way.
Hippolyta could claim that Diana was an Amazon, but before everything else, Diana was her daughter, too precious, too breakable to risk. And that was how the other Amazons would always see her: not as a true sister, but as their queen’s child. She would forever be an outsider, a weakness to exploit.
But if she made things right, if she got Alia to the spring, it wouldn’t just be a mission; it would be a quest, a hero’s journey, like those set before champions in times of old. The line of Warbringers would be broken. Alia would live, war would be prevented, and Diana would have proven herself. By then, Hippolyta and Tek would know all about Diana’s transgression. She would have to face a trial before the Amazon Council, but Diana had to believe she would be forgiven. To stop the cycle of Warbringers? To prevent not just one war but countless future wars? That was a deed worthy of an Amazon. There would be punishment, but surely not exile. You will still have to look Maeve in the eye and tell her that you were the cause of her suffering. That would be the worst punishment, the hardest to endure, and there was no question Diana deserved it.
Of course, she might fail. She might save this one girl and plunge the earth into an age of war, a war that might reach beyond the bounds of the mortal world to her home. Diana remembered the vision of her mother’s body lying lifeless on the field, the accusation in Tek’s dying eyes, the ground turned to ash, the smell of blood and burnt flesh in the air, that hideous creature with the head of a jackal. Her mistake might cost them everything.
No. There had to be a reason she’d been the one to see the Thetis sink, the one to pull Alia from the sea. She’d been given a chance to help bring peace to the world and to end the cycle of war that lived in Alia’s blood. She would not fail. And she would not let fear choose her path.
The mist was cold, and the surf bucked beneath them like a living thing. Diana reached into her pocket and took hold of the heartstone. She could feel its faceted edges hard against her palm.
“Alia,” she called over the wind. “Take my hand.”
Alia lurched across the length of the raft to the stern. She grasped Diana’s hand, wet from rain and sea spray, the heartstone tight between their palms.
“Ready?” Diana asked, keeping her other hand on the tiller.
“Ready,” Alia said with a firm nod.
Diana felt a grin break over her face. “Destiny is waiting.”
She focused on her memory of the map of Greece, the Gulf of Laconia, the divot in its southern shore. Guide us, she willed.
Nothing happened.
Diana had the sudden, mortifying thought that maybe she’d misunderstood how the heartstone worked. What if her will wasn’t strong enough to direct it? They’d be lost on the sea, stuck on this raft, and she would never see Themyscira again.
Then the raft began to spin, slowly at first, gaining momentum. The waters rose, turning in a spiral, forming a wall around them—a column of gray sea and writhing foam, churning faster and faster, higher and higher until the sky was barely a pinprick of light far above.
With a loud crack, the sail ripped free and vanished up the flume. The raft shook, breaking apart beneath them.
“Don’t let go!” shouted Diana, holding tight to Alia.
“Are you kidding?” Alia screamed back.
They were soaked through, huddled over the rudder on their knees, their palms pressed together so tightly, Diana could feel the edges of the jewel cutting into her flesh.
Tek was right. The gods are angry. They’d never wanted her on the island. It was the worst kind of hubris to think they’d sent Alia to her as a chance at greatness. They’d sent Alia as a lure, and now she and the Warbringer would die together, consumed by the great mouth of the sea.
The roar of the churning water filled her ears, rattling her skull, the wind and salt lashing at her with such force that she could not keep her eyes open. She huddled against Alia, felt her pulse—or was it Diana’s own?—in the press of their palms.
All at once, the world went silent. The roar did not quiet but simply vanished. Diana opened her eyes as the column fell in a great tumble of water, drenching them and sending the raft rocking as the sea sloshed beneath them. Mist clung to the broken stump of the mast as the raft swayed, then stopped, the waters eerily still.
They were shrouded in darkness. Had night fallen in the mortal world? Had they lost or gained time when they used the heartstone?
They were still moving, carried by a strong tide, but the surf had calmed to the barest ripple.
Diana and Alia stared at each other. Alia’s hair hung in a wet mass of braids, her eyes wide and round as newly minted coins. Diana suspected she looked just as stunned.
“Did it work?” Alia said.
Slowly, they unclasped their hands. The heartstone was covered in their blood. Diana wiped it clean on her wet trousers and slipped it into her pocket.
She looked around. The raft was nearly half the size it had been when they left the island. The mast was in pieces, bits of rope and rigging hanging from it limply. Through the mists, Diana saw the first twinkle of lights. They were brighter than the lanterns of Themyscira, steadier than torchlight, hard pinpricks that glinted like captured stars—white, pale blue, gold, silvery green.
“It worked,” Diana said, only half believing it herself. “It actually worked.” She’d done it. She’d left Themyscira. She’d crossed over into the World of Man.
The lights multiplied around them on both sides, more of them than she ever could have imagined. Diana could hear water slapping at the sides of the raft, and something else, deep and resonant—ships’ horns, a sound she’d only ever heard from a great distance on the island.
But the lights were too close, too bright, too plentiful. Had she brought them that near to a city? And why did the Ionian Sea feel flat as a m
illpond?
The mists cleared, and Diana glimpsed another light burning high in the sky, different from the others, a vibrant yellow torch held aloft by the statue of an Amazon, her stern face framed by a crown like a sunburst, her gown hanging in gray-green folds of weathered copper. Behind her, Diana could see the lights of a vast bridge.
“This isn’t right,” Diana said, standing slowly. “This isn’t Greece.”
Alia threw her head back and laughed, a sound of pure exuberance and relief and…pride.
“No way,” Alia whispered. She spread her arms wide, as if she could take the whole city into them, as if all of these lights had been lit to greet only her. “Welcome to the greatest city in the world, Diana. This is New York.” She whooped and turned her face to the sky. “This is home!”
What have I done? The air felt strange on Diana’s skin, gritty in her lungs. She could taste it in her mouth, dank and ashy against her tongue. The lights onshore seemed less like stars now than the bright reflection of predators’ eyes, wolves waiting in the dark.
She whirled on Alia. “What did you do?”
Alia held up her hands. “You were the one steering.”
“The heartstone was steering. I thought of the spring. I focused on the coast of…” Her words trailed off as she looked at Alia’s relieved, happy face. The heartstone was supposed to heed the desires of the woman who commanded it. Apparently, Alia’s will had been greater. “You were thinking of home.” She could not keep the accusation from her voice.
Alia shrugged. “Sorry?”
“I don’t think you are.”
A horn bellowed, closer this time, as a barge passed, trailed by a rolling wake that struck the remnants of their raft. They stumbled, managed to right themselves, but the raft was taking on water fast. Think, Diana scolded herself. The heartstone could only be used to leave Themyscira or return to it. She could use it to take them back to the island, then try again, but could Diana risk bringing the Warbringer back there? Would Alia or the island survive that?
To the east, she saw the beginnings of dawn tipping the sky gray. Her eyes scanned the horizon. New York. The island of Manhattan. Diana knew the maps well enough from her studies, knew she was thousands of miles from Therapne and the spring and any kind of hope.
She released a frustrated moan. “How did this happen?”
Alia smiled slightly. “I’ve been saying that all day.”
Had it only been a day? That morning, Diana’s sole worry had been losing a race. Now she had abandoned the only home and the only life she knew, and possibly doomed the world to a bloody age of war. Apparently she had a gift for disaster.
Make a new plan, she told herself. Soldiers adapt.
“We need to get to shore,” she said decisively. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Of course, they had no mast, no sail, and no way to steer. “We’re going to have to swim.”
Alia shuddered. “First rule of New York living: Do not swim in the Hudson. Do you know how polluted this water is?”
Diana eyed the river. It was an opaque blue verging on slate. It looked nothing like the clear waters of home. Still…
“Water is water,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. The wind and sea had torn the strand of Khione’s mane from Alia’s braids, and Diana’s own braid had come loose as well. They would be visible once they left the raft, but there was nothing to be done about it. She wrapped her arm around Alia.
“I can swim!” Alia protested.
“It’s dark out. I’m not taking any chances,” said Diana. And now that they were back in the mortal world, she wasn’t entirely sure that Alia wouldn’t just paddle away on her own.
Diana plunged them both into the river, and her whole body recoiled. The cold she had expected, but the water felt wrong. It was dense and clammy, like a moist palm clenching around her.
“Hey!” Alia complained, wriggling in her grasp. “Whoa, whoa, head east, toward Manhattan. Otherwise we’ll end up in Jersey.”
Diana kicked hard, eager to get them out of this…soup as fast as possible. Suddenly, Alia stiffened in her arms.
“What is it?” Diana asked. “Are the poisons of the water affecting you?”
“I remember.”
“Remember what?”
“This. You saving me from the wreck.”
“That seems unlikely. You were unconscious.”
Alia’s back was to her, but Diana felt her small shrug. “I remember the water turning warm.” She paused. “I remember thinking everything was going to be okay.”
Diana could hear the relief in her voice, the conviction that things had turned out all right. She thinks she’s safe now, Diana realized. She thinks this is over.
“There,” Alia said, craning her neck. “Straight ahead. That’s Battery Park.”
In the gray light, Diana could just make out the hulking shape rising from the water, and as they drew closer…She squinted. “Are those cannons?”
“They used to be. There’s a war memorial.”
Her mother had told her the mortal world was pocked with memorials and monuments to loss. They build with steel and stone and promise to remember, she’d said. But they never do.
“That’s the ferry,” said Alia as they crossed the wake of a slow-moving ship. “If they see us—”
“Take a breath.”
“But—”
Diana didn’t wait for an argument. She dunked them beneath the surface, continuing to swim. She wasn’t sure how long a mortal could hold her breath, but she counted twenty seconds.
As they reemerged, Alia hauled in a long breath and spat river water. “Oh God, water up the nose,” she gasped. “You’re lucky I’m so happy to be home.”
“I’m glad you’re in such a good mood,” Diana muttered.
“I’m being crushed by a grumpy giant and I probably just swallowed toxic waste, but, yeah, I am.”
Diana eased her hold slightly. It wasn’t fair to punish Alia for her desperation to return home. But that didn’t change the predicament they were in. Hekatombaion would begin with the rise of the new moon, and it was possible that they’d lost more than just a few hours when they’d broken through to the mortal world.
Diana saw ships moored near the park, their decks and masts still lit by a glittering spangle of lights, but would a ship be fast enough to get them to Greece in time? Diana thought of the planes she and Maeve had sometimes glimpsed above Themyscira. That was what she needed. She just had no idea where to get one.
When they reached the dock, Diana shifted her grip on Alia and grabbed hold of a pylon.
“Hold on to my neck,” she instructed. She’d expected an argument, but apparently Alia’s happy mood had made her compliant. She locked her arms over Diana’s shoulders without a single complaint. Even her grip was stronger away from Themyscira. If she was faring this well away from the island, Diana could only hope Alia’s absence would have a similar effect on Maeve.
Diana climbed the pylon and hauled them up to the dock, depositing Alia on the pavement with a thud. Alia flopped onto her back and flapped her arms back and forth.
“What are you doing?” said Diana.
“Making snow angels.”
“There’s no snow.”
“Okay,” admitted Alia, “I’m celebrating.”
Diana turned her back on Alia and the slate expanse of the river, intending to declare there was absolutely nothing to celebrate about this debacle, when she got her first real look at the city.
Her breath caught. She’d thought Ephesus and Bana-Mighdall were cities, but if that was the case, then maybe a different word was needed for the massive, spiky, dazzling thing before her. It rose in peaks and ridges, a jagged mountain range that should have run a hundred miles, but that had been crammed into a single narrow space, folded onto itself in hard angles and bright reflective planes like some grand formation of mica. And it was alive. Even in what should have been the still-sleeping hours of dawn, the city was moving. Motorc
ars. Electric lights blinking in different colors. People on foot with steaming paper cups in their hands, newspapers tucked beneath their arms.
It was like facing the Oracle all over again—the terror of staring into the unknown. The thrill of it.
“You all right?” asked Alia, pushing herself up from the dock and trying to wring some of the water from her bedraggled yellow shirt.
“I don’t know,” Diana said honestly.
“You’ve really never left that island?”
“You saw how easy it is to leave my home.”
“Good point.”
A man jogged by, wiping the sweat from his brow and singing loudly to himself. He was tall and lean and hairy.
“He has a beard!” Diana said in wonder.
“Yeah, that’s kind of a thing now.”
Diana cocked her head to the side as the man belted out something that sounded like “concrete jungles where dreams tomato” and vanished down the path. “Are males generally tone-deaf?”
“No, but believe me when I say you don’t want to hear Jason attempt karaoke.”
Diana took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. She could not let this place overwhelm or distract her. She had a mission to complete.
“Where can we get an airplane?”
Alia limped past her down the running path and into the park. “We don’t need a plane. We need a bath, a hot meal.” She waved at her bare feet. “Shoes.”
Diana caught up and moved to block her route. “Alia, you can’t go home.”
“Diana—”
“The people who tried to kill you believe the Warbringer is dead. We need to make sure it stays that way until we reach the spring.” Alia opened her mouth to argue, but Diana cut her off. “I know you don’t believe me, but you also know the explosion on that boat was no accident.”
Alia paused, then nodded slowly. “I know.”
Diana felt a surge of gratitude. She’d feared Alia would try to deny everything that had happened now that she was on familiar ground. “Then you have to know it’s safer for everyone if your enemies believe you’re dead.”
Alia scrubbed a hand over her face. “You’re saying if I try to go home I could be putting Jason in danger.”
Wonder Woman: Warbringer Page 9