Previously in Wonder Woman…

There is an island in the Ionian Sea, named Themiscyra, that for countless centuries has remained hidden to the world at large through ancient magicks threaded into the very soil and rock and ocean of the Earth. In recent times, however, this mystic shield has begun to fracture, for reasons unknown.

Themiscyra is populated by a clan of warrior women known as Amazons. The Amazons – daughters and grand-daughters of the goddess Hera, molded from enchanted clay from the banks of the island’s sacred twin rivers – have been charged with protecting a dark secret at the heart of the island, the Gateway to Tartarus. Legend tells that should a man – anyman – ever set foot on Themiscyra then this Gateway will be irrevocably sundered, releasing the myriad fiends of Tartarus and bringing about the end of all life. To guard against this, a solitary Amazon has been dispatched to the world beyond the island to determine the cause of the failing shield, and to remedy it. This champion’s name is Diana…

…and she has departed Themiscyra in the knowledge that, regardless of whether she is successful in her mission, she can never return to the place of her birth.

Recently arriving in Greece, Diana is intuitively drawn to a ruined temple on the coast where she encounters the mysterious Ettahcandei, a blind old crone who speaks in riddles and who claims to be a fellow Amazon who abandoned Themiscyra in ancient times. Etta gifts Diana with a sliver of knowledge from the all-seeing Eye of Graeae, but Diana – willful, arrogant and confrontational, and also beset by infuriating visions that she can’t yet comprehend – rouses Etta’s wrath when she seeks more immediate answers from the Eye.

Etta’s response is to summon aid in the form of the ancient bronze effigies that line the temple’s shadowed hallways – magically animated statues that are now, slowly but inexorably, advancing upon Diana…

THE RISE OF THE ARGONAUTS

By Meriades Rai

ThrumTHRASH, thrumTHRASH, thrumTHRASH…

This slow, methodical noise echoed about the half-lit interior of the ruined chamber where Diana stood, as rhythmic as a giant’s heartbeat – or, more pertinently, multiple heartbeats – and as laced with dread as a tolling bell. It was the sound of awkward movement, of heavy limbs beginning to bend and stretch after an eternity of motionless slumber, of shrieking joints and splintering rust, and of the clumsy disturbance of wild undergrowth.

In the gloom, the slatted sunlight that filtered down through the fractured ceiling overhead was broken by the turgid advance of lumbering shadows, shadows that juddered about the walls and flagstones in time with thunderous footsteps. The screech of corroded metal was like a chorus of screams from some ancient, distant battle. And, worst of all, the terrible, monotonous sound was drawing ever closer.

Diana scowled, her every instinct alive even as she forced herself to breathe deeply. To think. She was a woman of action, not deliberation, but in this particular instance she knew better than to simply give in to her base nature.

“Call off your soldiers, Etta,” she declared in a low voice. “I… apologize for my unintended slight against you. I genuinely don’t seek to take the Eye from you.”

Behind Diana, the blind crone Ettahcandei cowered back in the darkness with her treasure – the Eye of Graeae, a translucent crystal sphere the size of a grapefruit – clutched protectively to her withered bosom.

“Perhaps it’s too late,” the witch snapped. “Perhaps I can’t command them once they’ve been awoken.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you, Princess of the Amazons, are rude.”

The crone set her narrow chin high in a show of petulance, and the gray, leathery skin was pinched beneath her brow where her own eyes had once been. “You want to know about the world beyond our island, child?” she said, softly. “You wish to be privy to its many wonders? I hardly know where to begin. When I departed Themiscyra so many several hundreds of years ago, I believed – as you still do – that our home was in many ways the paradise it was claimed to be. But this world is so very beautiful and so very ugly in equal measure, and it is so full.

“Where Themiscyra offers half a dozen different varieties of fruit, the world beyond offers six dozen more. Where the island is eternally ornamented with beautiful flowers and lush grasses all year round, with no discernible change, this world is in constant flux, fascinating and beguiling, with seasons and harvests and blossoming, cyclical renaissance—”

“You measure beauty in fruit and flowers?”

“You’re not listening. You don’t know yet. There’s so much more. And, of course, there’s men. Men, Princess. We illustrate them in our storybooks and fables as dark troglodytes, so limited in brain and lacking in compassion, but in truth they’re many and varied in their hundreds and millions, with skin and eyes and wit… and the legends, my girl, the legends. Soon after arriving here I learned the name of Jason, a hero of ancient Greece who commanded a ship called the Argo and its crew of warriors known as the Argonauts. Jason was the son of the true King of the realm, and to claim the throne that was rightfully his he was challenged to undertake a perilous quest with the Argonauts at his command.

“Men in our legends are two-dimensional villains and beasts for us Amazons to overcome, but here they can be heroes in their own right. They can be strong, and charming, and beautiful… as beautiful as any woman. Can you see, then, how I was so enchanted by them? Believe me, Diana, I was young and lovely once, as you are now, and I enjoyed men as much as anything else in this world when I had the opportunity. Time has ravaged me now, consigning me to the shadows, but I’ve surrounded myself with memories to sustain me.My legion of Argonauts stand guard over me, and worship me as I worship them; they do not judge me, are not repelled by me; and they’ll protect me against any who would wish me harm…”

Diana regarded the old crone with a mixture of ire and sorrow, then turned back towards the entrance to Etta’s chamber where the lumbering shadows from before had finally given way to the creatures that were casting them. They numbered ten or more, tall and muscular figures cast in the mottled greenish-black of corroded bronze, their every move accompanied by an agonized shriek of metal. They were men, in a sense – something in the general shape of their armored torsos, and in some cases in their sculpted facades – but time and weather had ravaged them in much the same way as Etta herself, and there was a grotesque shapelessness to their features that stole away any artful allure they may once have possessed.

Not that such superficial observations mattered, of course. The only thing that concerned Diana was the fact that the statues were moving more swiftly now, and with greater purpose, as they became accustomed to their newfound animation… and that they were all armed with sword and spears.

“Fine, then,” Diana breathed. “Let’s see if the men of this world fare better against the god-blessed might of an Amazon than any ever did in our stories…”

The Argonauts advanced, thrashing and groaning. Diana danced forward to meet them, her hand instinctively traveling to the belt at her waist – only to pause and clench in frustration as she remembered. No sword. Lasso, yes, but nothing with a blade. She was going to have to get used to that, damn it!

Changing tack, Diana shifted her weight and threw herself at the nearest Argonaut, grabbling the living statue about its thick waist before it could bring its weapon to bear upon her. Diana was slightly smaller than most Amazons, always had been, but throughout her young life she’d compensated for this disadvantage by honing her reflexes and learning how to use the bigger girls’ height and weight against them. She was lithe and quick, and she’d trained extensively in unarmed combat as much as with a blade. Now she pirouetted with expert balance and then pushed with all her strength at the statue’s own pivot, sweeping his legs as she did so and hefting him over her hip and through the air. The gigantic Argonaut tumbled about its bodily axis like a doll and crashed forward, slamming into its nearest fellow and sending both sprawling with an echoing howl of grinding bronze.

Diana didn’t wait to admire her handiwork, instead whirling on the spot and thrusting out an open hand…

…which then closed about the hilt of that first Argonaut’s sword, dislodged from its gauntlet-sheathed fist as she’d overbalanced it a second previously. Catching the sword before it could fall, and instantly gauging its weight and heft, Diana continued to spin and then thrust forward to meet the oncoming attack of her next opponent, driving the point of her blade through the Argonaut’s exposed throat.

A human opponent would have been astonished; the statue’s corroded features betrayed nothing, but the way it veered away to its right flank and begin to shudder suggested that it had been mortally wounded in much the same way as if it had been a creature of flesh and blood. Indeed there was a misty residue hanging in the air, sparkling black peppered with gold rather than crimson, and Diana ducked away before this could splatter on her skin, wrenching her sword free of her victim’s neck as she did so.

From behind her, Ettahcandei screamed.

“No! My precious ones! Don’t destroy my precious ones!”

“I warned you,” Diana snarled beneath her breath, whirling on light feet and slashing and cleaving at two more approaching Argonauts that sought to outflank her. One lunged with its pike, showing surprising speed and some strange, innate knowledge of melee combat, as if it truly were the embodiment of some ancient warrior, with all the prowess he’d once possessed. Dodging desperately, Diana was almost speared through the leg; as it was she only received a shallow gash along the swell of her bare calf, and she was thrown off balance rather than being more severely impaired.

One Argonaut fell, having lost half an arm just below the elbow, but the other – the one with the pike – resisted Diana’s attacks and clubbed the sword from her hands. She ducked and rolled, ignoring the stinging pain in her leg, and grabbed at the statue’s wrist as it attempted to impale her a second time. Dragging herself up on the Argonaut’s muscled forearm, she then planted a foot in the ruptured crease at the back of its knee and propelled herself upwards, like a child scaling the gnarled trunk of a tree. Clambering onto the statue’s back, she shoved against its head with all her strength, pitching it forward with a sickening crunch into an aged stone pillar before somersaulting backwards.

The statue fell, its head twisted and ruined on a shattered metal neck.

Ettahcandei screamed again.

Diana landed on her feet, breathing heavily but still nimble and alert. Another sword lay close by. How many Argonauts were left? Half a dozen? Seven? She—

Look at you. So cold, so embittered, so ready for war. Isn’t there another way?

Diana winced and faltered, pressing one trembling hand to her temple. The golden Circlet of Athena upon her brow was glowing warm, as it had done ever since Etta had anointed it with a mystic sliver of the Eye of Graeae, and she was now seeing another vision. It was the face of her mother, Hippolyta; beautiful, imperious, her aquiline features framed with a tide of dark red hair… and smiling, but with a hint of sadness. Her mother, speaking to her across physical distance, through the Circlet…?

Don’t do this.

Diana shivered, then looked up. The remaining Argonauts were advancing still, almost upon her now. Shrieking joints, thrashing feet. The swing of swords.

The Amazon reached again for her own weapon, lying tantalizingly close… then stopped. Her hand went instead to her belt and unlaced her golden lasso, the Lasso of Artemis. It pulsed and uncoiled in her hands like something alive, throbbing with energy. The very air about it crackled, and Diana was shocked by the power she felt channeled through it; it was the first time she’d handled it in the presence of an enemy.

She flicked her wrist, loosing the gilded rope, and it immediately curled and snaked through the air with a mind of its own, seeking out her foes and enveloping them in coil after coil of shimmering gold. It lengthened even as she watched, and moved with such speed. The Argonauts milled, halted in their tracks – and then froze utterly, reverting to unliving statues once more the moment they were snared.

Diana breathed deeply, her dark eyes wide and alive. Behind her, she heard Etta’s shuffling feet.

“Don’t kill them!” the crone hissed. “Don’t—”

“I’m not intending to,” Diana said, battling to keep any hint of aggression from her voice. “Enough of this. Etta, listen. I don’t want to destroy your… your companions. I don’t want to fight you. Do you hear me? I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Etta. Truly.”

The Lasso pulsed. Diana’s heart pounded. Behind her, the elderly Amazon witch seemed to take pause.

“Now you are lying,” she muttered.

“No. You were right before, in everything you said. I’m rude. I’m over proud. I’m rash, I’m arrogant, I’m impulsive… yes, Etta, I’m all of it. I’m young, and all of this is so new. It’s overwhelming. I act this way because I don’t know how else to act.”

Diana turned, and as she did so she allowed the Lasso to drop. It did as it was bidden, recoiling in mid-air and returning to her outstretched hand so that she could clip it to her belt once more. Behind her, the bronze Argonauts immediately shuddered to life once more – and, once again, begin to advance with swords raised.

“I thought I knew everything,” Diana said evenly, not even glancing back at the impending threat. “But I’m beginning to realize that I was wrong, and I’m beginning to understand what you’re trying to tell me. That there’s so much more out here, beyond the island. Right now? There’s nothing to me, nothing but pride and arrogance. I’m no more… authentic than these Argonauts of yours, than these names from the legends you take so much pleasure in. But I do want to learn.

“I don’t want to take your Eye, Etta. It’s enough to cope with this sliver you gifted me, my mind couldn’t withstand any greater exposure. You’ve given me a start, the rest is up to me. I need to learn, to grow… to understand this world for myself. Will you give me that chance?”

Behind Diana, the Argonauts slowed. Once extended its sword and pointed the tip of the blade at the back of the woman’s head, the edge teasing the velvety black ringlets of her hair. Still she didn’t turn, focusing her attention completely on Ettahcandei.

Ahead, in the shadows of the ruins, the crone hesitated once more before stepping forward, her eyeless face tilted to the faint sunlight filtering down from above.

“Your words… seem genuine,” she said, quietly. “You appear to have had a rather sudden change of heart, my dear.”

Isn’t there another way? Don’t do this.

“My mother,” Diana breathed. “She believes in me, not just as a warrior but… as an ambassador. I’m on a mission, and I don’t doubt there’ll be violence and bloodshed along the way. But I don’t need to go looking for conflict when there’s none necessary.”

Etta nodded slowly. She then waved a hand, and from behind Diana there came a renewed shrieking and thrashing of metal – only this time, as she listened, she was aware that the riotous sound was receding. Etta was returning her soldiers whence they came, to their ruined hall of heroes. Finally, the frantic skip of Diana’s heart began to calm.

She smiled. Thank you, mother.

“That offer you made,” the Princess of the Amazons said, her tone genuinely deferential. “For advice, for credentials that’ll stand me in good stead in this new world… for a new identity, to allow me certain freedom of passage. If you’ll accept my apologies for my brash behavior, I’d be grateful for any help you can give me. And I promise I won’t abuse my privileges.”

Ettahcandei snorted, then clasped her hands together, her earlier good nature beginning to reassert itself.

“With pleasure, Diana of Themiscyra,” she said. “With pleasure. And, once we’re done here, do you have a particular destination in mind?”

Diana paused, remembering her vision from earlier, from before the battle with the Argonauts.

A city. A place of learning. Tall buildings, stone and steel and glass. Books.

People. So many books, so many people.

Cars. Laughter. Money. Grass. Avenues. Signs.

And one sign in particular…

“Yes,” she said, finally. “I’d like to know how to get to a place named Celestial City…”

Elsewhere…

It was early evening and the sun was low in the sky, sinking fast towards the distant horizon. It was glorious, coloring the Mediterranean ocean in reflected scarlet and orange and gold, and Hippolyta couldn’t help but think of Diana, somewhere out there, beyond the magical force shield that surrounded Themiscyra and kept this paradise island distinct from the world at large. Diana had used to love the sunset.

But she would watch them from a different shore now, and Hippolyta in turn would never see her daughter again.

Walking barefoot in the sand, she bowed her head and wept quietly, glad that she was alone so that none of her fellow Amazons could bear witness to their Queen’s frailty and desperate loneliness. She was so consumed by grief, in fact, that she wasn’t aware of the presence a short way behind her until the person who had been silently tracking her finally announced herself by barking her name.

“Queen Hippolyta. I have something I wish to say.”

Hippolyta turned, surprised.

The woman standing before her was tall and beautiful, golden-haired, clad in gorgeously textured emerald and gold armored bodice and helm. She was carrying a longbow, with a quiver of golden arrows slung to her hip. Her eyes were cold as glass.

“Asteria,” the Queen murmured. “We wondered where… that is, none of us had seen you since—”

“Since your daughter, disguised as a farm maid, bested me in gladiatorial combat and humiliated me in front of our sisters?”

Asteria’s voice was harsh, so deeply laced with hatred that it took Hippolyta aback. She paused, her eyes narrowing as she observed the other woman’s weapons: the bow and arrows, and also a string of daggers lopped to her belt, and a sword in scabbard strapped to her back. This was a warrior’s warrior, and a woman with a purpose.

When Asteria turned to gaze out across the ocean, seeing not the beauty of the sunset but only the promise of the world that lay beyond, Hippolyta instinctively understood the poison eating away at the younger woman’s heart.

“You… have a mission in mind,” the Queen breathed. “A purpose. And… not a noble undertaking, as Diana’s task is.”

“No. No, my Queen, I tried nobility. It’d didn’t work. It saw me shamed. And I believe now that there’s a better way. Did you know, we Amazons are nigh immortal here on Themiscyra? There are only three known methods of death for our kind: exposure to the toxic residue of the hellebore flower, said to bloom from blackened soil tainted by witch’s bloodcraft; the bite of the demon beasts that lurk beyond the Gateway to Tartarus; and to leave the sanctity of this island for the outer world.”

Asteria turned towards Hippolyta again, her eyes as black as flint. Hippolyta forced herself to smile, although it was one of great sadness.

“Look at you,” she said, softly. “So cold, so embittered, so ready for war. Isn’t there another way?”

Asteria smiled in turn. And then she slid an arrow from her quiver and nocked it in her bow. The arrowhead glistened black.

Hippolyta closed her eyes.

“Don’t do this.”

Asteria’s eyes darkened still further, until they were soulless pits offering a glimpse of Tartarus itself.

“Hellbore toxin,” she breathed. “Legend has it that the ending you’re about to experience is long, and slow, and very, very painful. But, believe me… that’s nothing compared to the agonies of revenge I plan to wreak upon your daughter.”

And then she let fly, and the arrow whistled and sang and then lodged in Hippolyta’s throat, protruding from between her clutching hands as she staggered and fell backwards in the sand, blood already spilling down her white robe, carving a scarlet line between the valley of her breasts.

The Queen of the Amazons began to choke and writhe, her skin already slowly blackening about her wound.

Asteria lingered awhile to watch, but quickly became bored and returned her attention to the ocean, and what lay beyond. Slowly, but with great determination and an unshakable belief in the path that she’d chosen, she began to wade in sandalled feet into the breaking wash, heading out to sea.

Heading towards the world of man, the world beyond the island…

…heading towards Diana.

NEXT ISSUE: “Make Me Somebody They’re Gonna Remember…”