THE EMISSARY

By Meriades Rai

The repeated clash of steel on steel rang out like the chiming of bells, holding the audience rapt and breathless. Even those warriors who had already been vanquished, and whose wounds were now being tended beyond the perimeter of the arena, were mesmerized by the final skirmish being played out in their midst: two Amazons in their once polished gladiatorial regalia, now dented and torn and bloodstained, standing toe-to-toe and exchanging fearsome blows of weapon and fist in pursuit of victory.

It was brutal, and it was glorious. From a raised dais on high, Queen Hippoltya looked on with an inscrutable gaze even whilst her aides on either side leaned forward against the balustrade in their excitement, their keen eyes following every sweep and cut administered in the pit below.

“Diana will be sorry she missed this spectacle,” Orithyia declared, flashing her sovereign a sly sideways glance. Hippoltya’s thin mouth tightened still further, her eyes dark beneath the hooked lip of her crown.

“My daughter took unkindly to being denied entry to the contest, as you well know, being her mentor in the arts of combat,” she murmured. “I imagine it’ll be months before she emerges from her sulk, and years more before she forgives me, or understands my decision. But by then the die will have long been cast.”

“She always was a willful sort,” Myrina said, on the Queen’s other flank. “Molded from the stoniest of clay. Can’t imagine where she gets her temper from…”

Hippoltya’s scowl deepened, but in truth there was a gladness of heart as she observed the culmination of the challenge below. No, her beloved Diana wouldn’t be forgiving her any time soon – but wasn’t that better than the fate that would have awaited her if she’d been allowed to enter this contest and won?

Throughout the auditorium there was a sudden and collective intake of breath, and scores of pairs of eyes widened in disbelief as one of the gladiators staggered and fell. It was Asteria, the master swordswoman in her decorated emerald and gold armored bodice and helm, and the warrior her fellow Amazons had believed would emerge triumphant from this competition before the first cut of blade had even been landed… and yet, here she was, implausibly spread-eagled on her back and disarmed, her helm twisted from the powerful, unexpected blow that had ultimately felled her, and her golden hair spilling free about her astonished face.

Asteria’s opponent stood above her, the point of her sword angled towards her downed rival’s heart in traditional display of triumph. The sun was at the victor’s back, casting her in silhouette and gleaming on the gnarled curves of her plated bodice. She wore old and mismatched armor, cast in dull sapphire, crimson and silver with no familial crest. Even her leather boots were scuffed and worn. Lyssa, that was her name; more farm-girl than warrior, she’d been the source of much amusement when she’d petitioned to take part in the contest, and her advancement to this final bout had been observed with skepticism at first, and then sheer incredulity. It seemed impossible that she could have defeated Asteria, just as it was improbable that she’d bested warriors such as Ioke, Marpesia and Pantariste in previous rounds… but the truth was evident for all to see.

Asteria pushed herself slowly to her knees, her shame palpable and her anger building. “This… is some manner of trickery,” she seethed, quaking now in fury. “No cow-herder could do this, not without sorcery at her beckon. You—”

“I routed you fair as wheat, Asteria, and you know it,” the victorious Amazon said, sharply. “You always were a spiteful sort, quick to cast doubt on the successes of others. But whilst there’s no magic at work here, foul or otherwise, I must admit that there is a measure of subterfuge…”

There was a further exhalation of astonishment from the auditorium then, as the woman they believed to be Lyssa – mistakenly so, as now became obvious – reached up and removed her own helm, revealing a tumble of twilight-black curls and ringlets rather than the nut brown they’d been expecting, along with a pair of piercing, violet eyes. They were unmistakable those eyes, as familiar as the crooked smile and the dark, olive-skinned beauty that also made Diana, precocious and acid-tongued daughter of Queen Hippoltya, so instantly recognizable.

Asteria gasped, speechless. Beyond her, cries erupted from the audience, spreading rapidly but then quieting just as swiftly as Hippoltya rose in her seat upon the raised dais high above, her complexion the tincture of ash and her hands trembling as she gripped the balustrade.

Diana turned magnificently towards her mother, her head raised and her jaw set, sunlight catching fire in her eyes.

“I was forbidden to enter your contest as myself,” Diana declared, her voice carrying throughout the now-silent arena. “But you made no stipulation denying me entry as someoneelse. My thanks to the kindness of the real Lyssa, the unassuming farmer’s girl who allowed me the use of her name for today’s entertainment. And so, I’ve won… as plenty might have predicted, given that I’ve long been one of Orithyia’s two most accomplished pupils, alongside Asteria here. I’ve won, and I shall now be the emissary of the Amazons in the world beyond our island borders, as promised. That was the arrangement, wasn’t it…?”

Up above, Myrina exchanged a horrified glance with Orithyia. Between her aides, the Queen merely stared down into the arena, her eyes locked with those of her only daughter – her deceitful, wayward, intractable daughter, damn her soul – until the silence became unbearable.

It was up to Diana to break the spell. But that was fine; a spirited sort, she had no qualms about being the center of attention, regardless of occasion. Smiling benevolently, she turned to the audience and spread her arms wide. “Right then,” she said. “That went well. Now, who’s willing to join me in a drink to celebrate my last night as an Amazon of Themiscyra…?”

“I bestow upon you the Circlet of Athena, goddess of wisdom,” Orithyia declared, presenting Diana with a weighty tiara of gold, emblazoned with a crimson star upon the forecrown. “The world beyond is a complex and chaotic realm, but through this gift Athena herself will guide you, enabling you to comprehend the ways of mankind.”

Diana accepted the Circlet, then opened her mouth as if to speak, but one glance at Orithyia’s stern expression – and at the expectant faces of all those who had gathered that morning in the crescent-shaped clearing at the heart of Themiscyra, at the foot of Mount Deimos – stifled whatever opinion she’d been about to offer. Instead she meekly smoothed back her soft black curls from her temples and set the tiara upon her brow.

“I bestow upon you the Lasso of Artemis, goddess of the hunt,” Orithyia continued, presenting a lariat of tightly-woven golden threads that pulsed with an inner glow. “This weapon will obey your commands and establish an empathic link between yourself and whomsoever the lasso snares, enabling you to elicit declarations of truth from those who would otherwise offer lies, and other such benefits.”

Diana accepted the lasso with a look of alarm, and this time was unable to remain silent. “Do I get a sword as well?” she chirped.

“No.”

“But—”

“I bestow upon you the Bracelets of Aphrodite, goddess of love,” Orithyia pressed on, speaking through gritted teeth. She handed Diana a pair of polished golden armlets that gleamed in the morning sun. “These bands of indestructible steel, forged in the fires of Aphrodite’s boundless heart, will help protect you from bodily harm.”

Diana gave her tutor a brief but meaningful glance that suggested a sword would probably offer better protection, but she said nothing, merely accepting these gifts and sliding them over her slender wrists. At the very least they were more becoming than the Circlet.

“And finally, I bestow upon you the Girdle of Gaea, goddess of the earth,” Orithyia murmured, presenting Diana with a golden belt, broad and slung at the hip and adorned with a crested central plate depicting the head of an eagle, the sacred symbol of the goddess. Orithyia handled the belt with extreme reverence, and for once Diana followed suit. She glanced up, looking for her mother, but without success. Diana felt a pang of guilt.

“The Girdle will enhance its bearer’s strength and physical prowess in all disciplines, even… even outside Themiscyra,” Orithyia said, faltering. She met Diana’s eye, her sorrow now plain. “Your mother has worn this treasured article with distinction for so many years, and now the honor and responsibility is passed to you, her daughter. Diana, emissary of the Amazons.”

At this pronouncement there was a genuine surge of warmth and kinship from those gathered in the clearing – Diana’s Amazon sisters, their familial blood stemming from the ancient clay of the Island’s many riverbanks along the shores of Thermodon – but all Diana could feel as she buckled the belt at her waist was a sudden weight in her heart and an alien swell in her gut. Fear.

Orithyia knew. She looked on, her eyes dark as each of the other Amazons came forward in turn to clasp Diana’s hand and bow in ceremony before moving on. Only when the clearing was empty did Orithyia take Diana in her arms, smoothing her palms over the girl’s hair as if she were still a child – which, in so many ways, she was – and then stepping back, her eyes glistening in the sun.

“You were always the best fighter,” the older woman said, quietly. “The fiercest heart, the most indomitable will. An impish wretch when roused, it’s true, but that’s merely another sign of how bright the spirit burns. You are the one who always says no when she believes no is the answer, even if everyone else around her says yes. You are fire and flesh and stone and steel, Diana, and though you’ll need every last breath of strength to survive what awaits you, I believe in you utterly and without hesitation. But, by the gods… I will missyou, girl. I will.”

Diana opened her mouth to speak, as before, but this time her throat was simply too dry. Orithyia merely smiled sadly, and nodded, and moved on. Behind her, at the edge of the clearing, another figure stood. Diana looked upon Queen Hippoltya and her hand went instinctively to the Girdle she now wore but which, until that morning, had been as much part of her mother as an eye or a foot. Such were responsibilities passed on, from parent to child.

“The Gateway to Tartarus,” Hippolyta said stiffly, flourishing a hand. Before her, the air shimmered, and darkened, and moments later the sheer rock face of Mount Deimos seemed to dissolve to be replaced by a swirling eddy of filthy black. Diana turned her face away immediately, unable to stare into the colorless pits of the damned and feeling her stomach turn and her throat contract as the unbearable stench of rancid souls assailed her.

“Legend tells that should a man – any man – ever set foot on this sacred isle, then this Gateway that the Amazons have ever sworn to protect will be irrevocably sundered, releasing the myriad fiends of Tartarus upon the world and bringing about the end of all life.” Hippolyta regarded her daughter coolly. “Themiscyra has ever remained hidden to the world at large through ancient magicks threaded into the soil and rock and ocean of the world,” she continued. “In recent times, however, that mystic shield has begun to fracture, for reasons unknown. We believe it’s only a matter of time before the shield is breached, and for the dire prophecy to be realized. To guard against this, it was decided that one of our number should be dispatched to the world beyond the island to determine the cause of the fault, and to remedy it. To this end, a contest was held, with the victor being named our champion.”

Diana stood motionless, meeting her mother’s gaze only through sheer force of will. She only wavered when she saw a single tear form in the Queen’s eye, and when that tear fell it fell with enough force to break the younger woman’s heart.

“As has been demonstrated in times past, leaving the shores of Themiscyra comes at a cost,” Hippolyta whispered, her voice cracking along with her resolve. “Any Amazon who departs, whether of her own free will, or through madness, or at the will of her sisters, is forbidden to return. This then, my daughter… is goodbye.”

Diana breathed deeply, clasping her hands together so that they would tremble less. Her bracelets came together with a ring of steel, just like the chiming of swords in the arena the previous day, but she didn’t feel the fabled love of Aphrodite offering her protection as promised. Some wounds – the deepest ones of all – simply couldn’t be guarded against, it seemed.

Diana glanced at the swirling darkness of the Gateway, and fancied she could hear the screams of the damned beyond, and the wet swelter of lash on flesh and the splinter of nail through bone, and the repeated and relentless violation of terrified, shrieking souls. It was all there, just beneath the fragile surface, waiting to burst through like infected blood. She set her jaw, her beautiful violet eyes so bright and clear with defiance.

“I understand,” she said, softly. “And… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I went against your orders and engaged in such crude deception. But we both know I could never have stood by and let it happen otherwise. I am your champion. Our people’s champion. You molded me from clay, mother, with all the love and wisdom your spirit could bind in me, but you also gave me your strength and obstinate belief in what was right. Every moment spent away from you will burn in me… but this is my duty. Can you accept that…?”

Queen Hippolyta bowed her head, and for a long while said nothing. Then she stepped forward and gathered her child in her arms just as Orithyia had done, and she pressed her face into Diana’s hair and her lips to her ear.

“I already did, my love,” she breathed. “From the moment of that last clash of swords in the arena, when Asteria fell so remarkably before the deft blade of an unheralded farm-girl who’d hid her face so carefully beneath her helm.”

“You knew…?”

“I prayed otherwise. But, yes. In those seconds before you revealed yourself to everyone else, you revealed yourself to me.”

“You could have stopped it somehow, even then.”

“And have you hate me forever? And increase the risk of doom ascending from the underworld to engulf not only Themiscyra but also the entirety of this world? No. I understand all too well the will of the gods, Diana. This is the day I have always dreaded, and here it is upon us. Tell me you’ll stay, even now, and I’ll send another in your place without regret… but if you’ll go, I’ll not make the sorrow all the worse.”

Mother and daughter embraced then, the tears flowing freely. Neither had cause to notice the solitary figure lurking at the edge of the clearing, herself swathed in a cloak of grief but for altogether different reasons. Asteria, the vanquished gladiator, looked on with red eyes beneath disheveled blonde hair, her hands raw and bleeding from where she’d spent the night systematically grating the flesh from her palms with arrowheads rather than carousing with Diana and her sisters. She’d wanted the pain, nothing more than the pain; precious oblivion, to null the bitter despair that had taken root and was now quickly cultivating into a cancer of the heart.

“You cheated me,” Asteria whispered, still picking her raw flesh down to the bone. “The role of champion was mine. The glory was mine. But you would usurp me, Diana. You, in your miskept armor and old boots and borrowed name, you would humiliate me and leave me as nothing, and you would depart these shores believing you’ll never see me again. But you’re wrong in that. We’ll be meeting again, precious sister, sooner than you would think, and for a final time. And on that day when your helm once again slips from your shoulders I’ll ensure that your pretty little head remains inside…”

“One thing,” Hippolyta told Diana, oblivious to the vengeance brewing in the shadows just a short distance away. “The world beyond Themiscyra will contain all manner of wonders, more even than the Nesoi can divine in their eldritch pools. There will be men. Men of strength, of power, of intelligence, of skill… some will align themselves to an evil path, others to justice. But regardless of moral trajectory, keep all such men at a distance, for any one of them might prove to be the bringer of doom spoken of in our foresight. If you meet such a man, Diana… you must do what is required. Do you understand?”

Diana, emissary of the Amazons and of the gods, regarded her mother with a warrior’s eyes. Without hesitation, she nodded.

“By my duty to Themiscyra, to my sisters and to this world, I do,” she said. “And let any man who comes between me and that duty beware…”

NEXT ISSUE: “Beware Of Greeks Bearing Gifts…”