Wonder Woman: Warbringer Read online

  The brambles closed around her, but Diana felt only the briefest panic. There was something gentle in the movement of the branches now, in the way they shifted so she could turn and peer through the spaces between them into the Oracle’s chamber.

  Diana could see her mother and Tek emerging from the tunnel with Biette, Sela, Arawelo, Marguerite, and Hongyu—all members of the Amazon Council. It was Hongyu’s voice she’d heard.

  The Amazons waited in respectful silence on the other side of the moat.

  The Oracle rose. Her hood slipped back, revealing the face of an ancient crone. “Sisters of the Bow and Spear, have you come to make your offering?”

  “We have,” said Hippolyta. “We bring you gifts and pray you find them wor—”

  “I will accept no offering this day.”

  The members of the Council exchanged stricken looks.

  Hippolyta shut her eyes briefly. “Then we’ve come too late. The island’s sickness, the earthquakes—”

  With a start, Diana realized her mother wore the same purple silks and amethysts she’d been wearing when Diana had left. The Council had been meeting to decide whether to consult the Oracle, and this must be the delegation they’d sent. That meant only hours had passed on Themyscira. If that was the case—Diana tried to temper her hope and failed. She’d been sure she would return to exile and punishment, but what if they didn’t know she’d gone? She could slip back into the city and be at Maeve’s bedside in under an hour.

  “Why did you wait so long to visit my temple?” asked the Oracle.

  A crease appeared between Hippolyta’s brows. “The Council meeting was unusually contentious. At one point, I feared we’d come to blows.”

  Could that have been Alia’s power? Diana wondered.

  “Is there no way to save Themyscira?” asked Tek impulsively. “Can we not—”

  Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled through the temple. “I have accepted no offering, and yet you dare to speak these questions?”

  Tek bowed her head, her hands clenching into fists. She wasn’t particularly good at meek. “I beg your forgiveness. I seek only to protect our people.”

  The thunder faded, and the Oracle’s voice calmed. “You need not fear for your people, Tekmessa.” Tek’s face snapped up. “Nor for the island. This time of trouble has passed.”

  Though they held their tongues, the Council exchanged worried looks, and Diana sensed their confusion.

  The Oracle made a disgruntled humming noise. “And still you wait for explanations.” She waved a gnarled hand. “The island was thrown into imbalance by a disturbance in the World of Man, but the unrest is at an end.”

  A slow smile spread over Hongyu’s face, and a sigh of relief seemed to pass through the Council members. Hippolyta blew out a surprisingly un-queenlike breath, and Tek grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Hippolyta reached for Tek’s hand and let their fingers entwine.

  “I was so sure it was something worse,” she murmured. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

  “Just be glad it’s over,” said Tek. “Can you do that?” Hippolyta returned her smile.

  But the Oracle spoke again. “Do not think to rest, Daughters of Themyscira. I have looked into the waters and seen a battle waged in the World of Man. One of your own will wade into the mortal fray to face this turmoil, a trial that will test her and decide the fate of this island and us all.”

  Tek squared her shoulders. Hongyu lifted her chin. Even in her mother’s eyes, Diana saw the light of battle burning. Diana wondered which of the Council’s great warriors would face the challenge the Oracle described.

  “Go now,” said the Oracle. “Rebuild your walls, set your cities to rights, and trouble me no more.”

  The Amazons made their bows and departed silently through the tunnel of brambles. Diana was afraid to watch her mother go. She wanted to run after them, offer some foolish explanation, hold her mother close. She even wanted to hug Tek. Instead, she forced herself to wait.

  When their footsteps had faded, the Oracle turned to Diana and the vines parted, allowing her to pass from the wall.

  “So you see, Daughter of Earth, I have kept your secret.”

  Diana longed to ask why, but she knew any question to the Oracle would come at a price.

  “You are one of them now,” said the Oracle. “Battle-tested. Even if they do not know it, you do.”

  Battle-born at last. They would never know what she’d done, the quest she’d completed. There would be no songs sung about it, no stories of glory shared. It didn’t matter. She knew who she was and the ordeal she’d faced. She was an Amazon. The knowledge burned like a secret flame inside her, a light no one could extinguish, no matter what names they called her. Diana knew that she deserved her place here—and she knew there was more than just this life on this island.

  “Thank you,” Diana whispered.

  “You took the chance as we hoped you would,” said the Oracle. “We did nothing.”

  But that wasn’t quite true. “When I came to ask about Alia, you told me I wasn’t a true Amazon.”

  “Did we?”

  Well, not exactly, but the meaning had been clear. “You told me I would fail.”

  “We couldn’t know you would succeed.”

  Realization struck Diana with the force of an unexpected wave. “You wanted me to go. That’s why you said those things.”

  “Better to choose a quest feeling you have something to prove than take it on as a burden. We needed a champion, and you needed a chance to learn what you are capable of.”

  “But I almost failed!” Diana said, her mind reeling. “The world was almost plunged into an age of warfare! What if I’d lost?”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “What if I’d chosen to come back to Themyscira when you offered me the chance, instead of facing Jason?”

  “Then we would have known you aren’t the hero we hoped for.”

  “But—”

  The air rumbled with distant thunder. Diana ground her teeth in frustration. Maybe the Oracle was right. Maybe she’d needed to choose the path for herself. Maybe she’d fought harder because she’d known she had no one else to believe in her. Then she remembered Nim at the gala, saying, Oh man, do you have one of those tough-love families? I just don’t buy into that.

  “Nim had it right,” she muttered.

  “Oh, very well,” said the Oracle. “Draw closer, Daughter, and never say we are not generous in our gifts.”

  The waters of the moat shimmered, and in them, Diana saw a great swath of green set like an emerald into the gray spires of a city. The park, Diana realized. The one she’d seen from the windows of Alia’s bedroom. The image shifted, and she saw a stone terrace marked by arches, a circular fountain with a winged woman at its center. Two figures sat at the edge, their faces turned to the sun.

  “Alia,” she whispered. Alia was holding Theo’s hand. They looked older somehow, and Diana wondered what time she was peering into, how long it had been since the fight at the spring, if all those memories had faded for them.

  Another figure appeared—Nim zooming by on roller skates, a pink bandage on one of her dimpled knees. She turned in circles before them, her flowered skirt flaring. She was saying something, but Diana couldn’t make out the words.

  Another girl whizzed by on skates. She was tall and blond with a pretty—if somewhat weaselly—face. She snagged Nim’s hand, and they spun away, laughing.

  Theo and Alia rose, ready for whatever adventure Nim had suggested, and as Theo lifted Alia’s hand to plant a kiss on her knuckles, Diana saw something on her wrist—a red tattoo in the shape of a star. The heartstone. Promise me you’ll come back someday.

  Diana reached toward the water, and the image faded.

  Was it a promise she could keep? It seemed impossible, but she’d thought so much was impossible, and again and again she’d proven herself wrong.

  “I miss them,” she said. Her voice sounded s
mall beneath the stars of the Oracle’s sky. “They’re worth fighting for.”

  “Princess,” said the Oracle. For a moment, she took a new shape, one Diana had never seen before—a soldier standing with sword and shield in hand. She wore an armored breastplate, a lasso at her hip. Her blue eyes flashed, her black hair lifted by a distant wind. There was something familiar in her features. “You will have the chance to fight for them again.”

  The soldier vanished, replaced once more by the crone. “Go home, Diana,” said the Oracle. “Maeve will be waiting for you.” Grateful tears pricked Diana’s eyes—her friend was well. The Oracle nodded at Diana’s bracelets. “Just make sure to stop at the Armory first.”

  Diana smiled. She thanked the Oracle and hurried through the tunnel, her steps hastening, her heart full of joy. She did not know what the future held, only that the world—full of danger, and challenge, and wonder—was waiting to be discovered.

  She ran to meet it.

  Don’t try to land a Learjet on the Great Lawn. That’s actually a crash, not a landing, and you won’t be able to take off again. The waterfall that Diana and her friends visit does not exist but is inspired by the Polylimnio and Platania falls, where you can find a hermit’s cave and a small church built into the rock. The Nemeseia was usually celebrated on 19 Hekatombaion. Also, while there has been some debate over the site of Platanistas (the shrine dedicated to Helen of the Plane Trees), it was originally believed to be located not far from the Menealaion, near the Eurotas, as described in these pages. More recent theories locate it north of the site of ancient Sparta, closer to the Magoula River. In our skies, the Dog Star shines blue, not red. The star known as the Horn or Azimech is more commonly known as Spica. As for the location of Themyscira, I recommend consulting a trusted Amazon.

  It has been an honor and a joy to write a chapter in Diana’s story, but I couldn’t have done it alone. Luckily, I know a lot of heroes; I owe them all a huge debt of thanks.

  Chelsea Eberly shepherded me through this project with patience and smarts. Thank you for being a brilliant editor and champion diplomat. Many thanks also to the entire team at RHCB, especially Michelle Nagler, Nicole de las Heras, Dominique Cimina, Aisha Cloud, Kerri Benvenuto, John Adamo, Adrienne Waintraub, Lauren Adams, Joseph Scalora, Kate Keating, Hanna Lee, and Jocelyn Lange. Thanks also to Ben Harper, Melanie Swartz, and Thomas Zellers.

  All the love to Joanna Volpe, Jackie Lindert, Hilary Pechone, and the rest of my family at New Leaf Literary, aka the League of Badasses, for their constant support on this project. (And a special shout to Pouya and Mel Shahbazian for the last-minute language assist.)

  Angela DePace, Kelly Biette, and Clarissa Scholes helped sort the science of this story and lent their gigantic brains to Keralis Labs and Alia’s interests. I’m glad they use their powers for good. Dr. Katherine Rask generously guided me through ancient religions and archaeogenetics and introduced me to Helen of the Plane Trees. She is a stalwart champion of YA lit, and her expertise and creativity were indispensable to the writing of this novel. Andrew Becker and Dan Leon were kind enough to help me sort my choices on ancient Greek. David Peterson brought his conlang genius to the construction of the Warbringer’s many names and found me a kind soul to correct my Bulgarian. Thomas Cucchi talked me through flight protocols and private jets. Poornima Paidipaty gave excellent goddess guidance, and Sarah Jae Jones advised on skydiving, which I can say is something I never, ever want to do. I also want to say a special thank-you to Aman Chaudhary, who let me hash through the starting point of this story with him on the way to San Diego Comic-Con.

  Kelly Link, Holly Black, Sarah Rees Brennan, and Robin Wasserman read the earliest pages of this book when I still thought Diana should have a pet leopard. Daniel José Older (who fielded long phone calls), Robyn Kali Bacon (who put up with late-night texts), Rachael Martin (who did both), Gamynne Guillote (prota adelfis), and Morgan Fahey (trusted reader #1) helped me find my footing with Alia and Jason, and helped me navigate the story as a whole.

  Thanks also to Marie “Gotham Needs Me” Lu, Amie Kaufman, Kayte Ghaffar, Susan Dennard, Gwenda Bond, the superhumanly adorable Flash Martin, and, of course, my mom, who has put up with my Wonder Woman obsession lo these many years. Speaking of which, I’m grateful to the Superfriends for introducing me to Diana over soggy Saturday-morning cereal, and to Lynda Carter for cementing my love for Wondy forever.

  Many books, articles, and essays influenced the Warbringer world, including The Amazons: Lives and Legends of Warrior Women Across the Ancient World by Adrienne Mayor; Choruses of Young Women in Ancient Greece: Their Morphology, Religious Role and Social Functions by Claude Calame; On the Origins of War: And the Preservation of Peace by Donald Kagan; “Platanistas, the Course and Carneus: Their Places in the Topography of Sparta” by G. D. R. Sanders; The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore; A Golden Thread: An Unofficial Critical History of Wonder Woman by Philip Sandifer; Wonder Woman Unbound: The Curious History of the World’s Most Famous Heroine by Tim Hanley; and, of course, the work of the inimitable Gail Simone.

  And finally, to the Amazons of the world, to every woman or girl who fights for peace and on behalf of one another, thank you for inspiring me.

  LEIGH BARDUGO is the #1 New York Times bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of Six of Crows, Crooked Kingdom, and the Shadow and Bone Trilogy. She was born in Jerusalem, grew up in Los Angeles, and graduated from Yale University. She fell under Wonder Woman’s spell early and spent a good chunk of her childhood making construction-paper bracelets and spinning herself dizzy in her driveway. These days, she lives and writes in Hollywood, where she can occasionally be heard singing with her band.

  leighbardugo.com

  @LBardugo

  As Bruce rounded another bend, the police sirens suddenly turned deafening, and a mass of red and blue lights flashed against the buildings near the end of the street. Cement barricades and yellow police tape completely blocked the intersection. Fire engines and black SWAT trucks clustered together, with the silhouettes of officers running back and forth in front of the headlights.

  Inside his car, the electronic voice came on again, followed by a transparent map overlaid against his windshield. “Heavy police activity ahead. Alternate route suggested.”

  A sense of dread filled his chest.

  Bruce flicked away the map and pulled to an abrupt halt in front of the barricade—right as the unmistakable pop-pop-pop of gunfire rang out in the night air.

  He remembered the sound all too well. The memory of his parents’ deaths sent a wave of dizziness through him. Another robbery. A murder. That’s what all this is.

  Then he shook his head. No, that can’t be right. There were far too many cops here for a simple robbery.

  “Step out of your vehicle, and put your hands in the air!” a police officer shouted through a megaphone, her voice echoing along the block. Bruce’s head jerked toward her. For an instant, he thought her command was directed at him, but then he saw that her back was turned, her attention fixed on the corner of a building. “We have you surrounded, Nightwalker! This is your final warning!”

  Another officer came running over to Bruce’s car. He whirled an arm exaggeratedly for Bruce to turn his car around. His voice harsh with panic, he warned, “Turn back now. It’s not safe!”

  Before Bruce could reply, a blinding fireball exploded behind the officer. The street rocked.

  Even from inside his car, Bruce felt the heat of the blast. Every window in the building burst simultaneously, a million shards of glass raining down on the pavement below. The police ducked in unison, their arms shielding their heads. Fragments of glass flew toward Bruce’s car, dinging like hail against his windshield.

  From inside the blockade, a white car veered around the corner at top speed. Bruce saw immediately what the car was aiming for—a slim gap between the police barricades, where a SWAT team truck had just pulled through.

  “I said, get out of here!” the o
fficer shouted at Bruce. A thin ribbon of blood trickled down the man’s face. “That’s an order!”

  Bruce heard the scream of the getaway car’s tires against the asphalt as it raced toward the gap. He’d been in his father’s garage a thousand times, helping him tinker with an endless number of engines from the best cars in the world. At WayneTech, Bruce had watched in fascination as tests were conducted on custom engines, conceptual jets, stealth tech, new vehicles of every kind.

  And so he knew: whatever was installed under that hood was faster than anything the GCPD could hope to have.

  They’ll never catch him.

  But I can.

  His Aston Martin was probably the only vehicle here that could overtake the criminal’s, the only one powerful enough to chase it down. Bruce’s eyes followed the path the car would likely take, his gaze settling on a sign at the end of the street that pointed toward the freeway.

  I can get him.

  The white getaway vehicle shot straight through the gap in the barricade, clipping two police cars as it went.

  No, not this time. Bruce slammed his gas pedal.

  The Aston Martin’s engine let out a deafening roar and sped forward. The officer who’d shouted at him stumbled back. In the rearview mirror, Bruce saw him scramble to his feet and wave the other officers’ cars forward, both his arms held up high.

  “Hold your fire!” Bruce could hear him yelling. “Civilian in proximity—hold your fire!”

  Bruce narrowed his eyes and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Few things in his life seemed within his control right now—but this? This moment was his.

  The getaway car made a sharp turn at the first intersection, and Bruce sped behind it a few seconds later. The street zigzagged, then turned in a wide arc as it led toward the freeway—and the Nightwalker took the on-ramp, leaving a trail of exhaust and two black skid marks on the road.