Wonder Woman: Warbringer

by Leigh Bardugo

“Jason was just talking, trying to ease his own mind. He doesn’t blame you. He loves you.”

  “How could he not blame me?” A sob caught in her throat. “I blame me.”

  Diana struggled for words that might soothe her, and the only ones she found were those she’d whispered to herself when the island had felt too small, when Tek’s barbs had felt too sharp. “We can’t help the way we’re born. We can’t help what we are, only what life we choose to make for ourselves.”

  Alia gave an angry shake of her head. “Tell me some part of you doesn’t wish you had never saved me,” she said. “You and I both know I should have died in that shipwreck.”

  Hadn’t the Oracle said much the same thing? Diana had almost believed it then, but she refused to believe it now. “If you’d drowned that day, if you died now, it would only be a question of time until a new Warbringer was born. If we reach the spring—”

  “So what if we reach the spring?” Alia said furiously, then lowered her voice as a woman in a black taffeta gown cast her a curious glance. She pushed off the wall and turned to Diana, dark eyes blazing. “So what if it fixes me or purges me or whatever? It won’t bring Dr. Ellis or Jasmine or the crew of the Thetis back. It won’t bring my mom and dad back.”

  Diana took a breath and placed her hands on Alia’s shoulders, desperate to make her understand. “My whole life…my whole life people have been wondering if I had a right to be. Maybe I don’t. Maybe neither of us should exist, but we’re here now. We have this chance, and maybe that isn’t a coincidence. Maybe we’re the ones who were meant to break this cycle. Together.” Alia held her gaze, and Diana hoped her words were reaching her. “Your parents thought there might be a way to turn your power, the legacy of the Warbringer’s blood, to something good. By going to the spring, you’re fulfilling that promise in a different way.”

  Alia pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes as if trying to shove back her tears. “Diana, swear to me that if we don’t make it, that if something happens, you’ll end this. I can’t be the reason the world goes to hell.”

  Diana dropped her hands. I’m going to need you to kill me. She’d hoped those words had been spoken in haste, that they were the result of shock and Alia would abandon such thoughts. “I can’t do that. I…I won’t commit murder.”

  “You pulled me from the wreck,” Alia said, her voice hard with resolve. “You took me off that island. You can’t ask me to live with all the rest.”

  A sick sensation settled in Diana’s gut. Making this vow would mean turning her back on everything she’d been taught to believe. That life was sacred. That when it seemed violence was the only choice, there was always another. But Alia needed strength to continue, and maybe this grim excuse for hope was the only way to give her that.

  “Then we make a pact,” Diana said, though the words felt wrong in her mouth. “You agree to fight with everything you have to make it to that spring.”

  “All right. And if it isn’t enough?”

  Diana took a deep breath. “Then I will spare the world and take your life. But I want your word.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “No, not a mortal vow. I want the oath of an Amazon.”

  Alia’s eyes widened. “A what?”

  “Those are my people. Women born of war, destined to be ruled by no one but themselves. We make this pact with their words. Agreed?” Alia nodded, and Diana placed her fist over her heart. “Sister in battle, I am shield and blade to you. As I breathe, your enemies will know no sanctuary. While I live, your cause is mine.”

  Alia placed her own hand over her heart and repeated the words, and as she did, Diana felt the power of the oath surround them, binding them together. It was a vow Diana had shared with no one else, one that might make her a killer. But she did not let her gaze falter.

  “All right,” said Alia on a shuddering breath. “Let’s find Jason and get the hell out of here.”

  That was when the air tore open around them. A loud, staccato clamor filled Diana’s ears. She knew that sound; she recognized it from the vision she’d glimpsed in the Oracle’s waters. Gunfire.

  Diana covered Alia’s body with her own, hurling them both to the ground as the ugly cacophony of gunshots filled the gallery, battering her senses. It was so much louder than in the vision.

  “Alia—” she began, but her words were smothered by a thunderous boom.

  The vast wall of windows shattered, dropping to the floor in a cascade of glass.

  Diana kept Alia’s body shielded, jagged bits of glass peppering her back and shoulders like wasp stings as people cried out around them.

  Men in black body armor were rappelling in through the huge hole where the windows had been. They dropped to the floor near the reflecting pool as party guests scattered, screaming and racing for the doors, gunshots echoing through the room.

  Diana dragged Alia behind the shelter of a table. “We have to get out of here.”

  “The others—” protested Alia.

  The men were advancing from the opposite side of the gallery, tossing guests out of the way as they shone lights in the faces of the bodies that had fallen, examining their features.

  They were clearly looking for someone—someone they didn’t intend to take alive—and Diana knew she and Alia didn’t have long.

  She could smell the fear-tinged sweat of the partygoers, feel her heart racing in her chest, as if she’d woken suddenly from sleep. She tugged at the knots in the shawl Nim had made of her lasso. There wasn’t time to untangle them all. The one weapon she had was useless.

  “We can’t just stay pinned down here,” Diana said, shrugging off the knotted rope and tying it around her waist to keep it from constricting her movements. “We have to make a break for the doors.”

  “I don’t see the others,” Alia said, peering around the table. “We can’t leave without them.”

  Though Diana’s heart was pounding, her thoughts were clear as she adopted and discarded strategies, her mind turning over the layout of the room, calculating the positions of their assailants. The other guests were trying to crowd through the room’s two doorways, shoving and pushing at one another in their panic, but she suspected the soldiers would have already barricaded the hallways and would move to seal the doors. Any time someone tried to escape through the shattered glass wall, a bullet struck them down. Diana scanned the shadows of the wide balcony above the reflecting pool where she knew snipers must be lurking.

  A bullet struck the slate floor beside the table, sending up a puff of pulverized stone. Diana wondered what a gunshot might do to her, but there was no time to worry about it. She had to get Alia to safety.

  “Diana!” The shout came from the other side of the temple, barely audible in the chaos. Jason and Theo were crouched behind another table. She met Jason’s eyes and gestured toward the rear of the temple. It was the one spot in the room that provided a defensible position with any kind of real cover. If Diana could get Alia there, she would have time to locate Nim and maybe figure out an escape plan.

  “I’ll find Nim,” she said. “But we need to get you behind that temple. We can’t just sit here and wait for them to flank us.”

  “Okay,” Alia said, “okay.” But Diana wasn’t sure how much of what she was saying was getting through. Alia was breathing hard, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated.

  “When I count three, I want you to roll right and get behind the next table, understand? That’s how we’re going to do it. I count three, you move, no time for hesitation. We’re going to get you to Jason and Theo.”

  “Promise me you’ll find Nim.”

  “Your cause is mine,” said Diana.

  Alia blinked as if her terror had driven the meaning of the vow from her mind. “All right,” she said, then clutched Diana’s wrist. “Be careful.”

  Diana felt a grim smile on her lips. She was afraid, but swelling against that fear was a tide of exhilaration. Her fight with Jason in the hotel hallway had been a tussle. This
was a battle. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being careful at all. Was this what it meant to be an Amazon? A sword’s edge went dull if left unused too long. She was ready to hone her blade.

  “On three.” She slid into a crouch. “One.” She braced her hands against the table’s legs. “Two.” She nodded to Alia. “Three!”

  She waited only long enough to see Alia drop and roll, then flipped the table on its side in a clatter of dishes. Gunfire rattled off its surface. She ripped the metal legs from the table, seized it by its edges, and hurled it with all her might.

  It spun through the air like a huge discus and crashed into the phalanx of soldiers, but she didn’t stop to watch them topple. She leapt behind the next table, slamming gracelessly into Alia as a spate of bullets followed her.

  “Again!” she yelled.

  Alia rolled and Diana tossed the table, diving to the ground as gunfire chased her tumbling form. She hissed as a bullet grazed her shoulder—more like a burn than a sword slice.

  Diana heard boots thundering over the ground. “They’re coming around. Keep moving!” she commanded Alia.

  But it was too late—a soldier had flanked them on their left. She saw him raise his gun, fire. She threw her body in front of Alia’s and felt the bullets strike her arm, her side. Pain like she’d never known hammered at her body in sharp, reverberating jabs, each gunshot a fist of fire that drove the breath from her lungs. She heard a loud ping as a bullet struck the bracelet on her arm and looked down. It hadn’t even made a dent. But the ricochet…

  “Are you hit?” Alia gasped from beneath her. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. But that wasn’t quite true. Though she wasn’t bleeding, her skin was covered in red welts, and her body ached as if she’d taken the worst beating of her life. Maybe bullets would have glanced off an Amazon at the height of her strength. Diana just knew she didn’t want to get shot again.

  With a click, the soldier on their left slammed home a second clip and readied to fire again. A shot sounded and a circular black wound appeared on the soldier’s thigh. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg.

  Jason peeked out from behind the temple, the gun from his ankle holster in hand, and gave her the briefest nod.

  “Alia, I need you to run for the temple. Get to Jason. I’ll cover you.”

  “How?” Alia cried. “You don’t have a weapon.”

  I am the weapon, she thought. “Just go.”

  “I’m not going to leave you to be slaughtered.”

  “Alia, now!”

  Alia ran. This time when Diana threw the table, she stood her ground. This is madness, railed a voice in her head, but by then ten soldiers were opening fire.

  She didn’t stop to think, just let herself react. Time seemed to slow as the air came alive in a hail of bullets. This was like no sparring match or staged skirmish, and some part of her knew it. Her muscles responded with effortless speed, instinct guiding her movements. She forgot her pain as she barreled toward the line of men facing her down, deflecting their gunfire as she ran. The bullets made silver streaks in her vision, strange music as they clanged against her bracelets, their impact like the hard patter of rain on a metal roof.

  She rolled into a somersault, came up, glimpsed sparks glinting from her wrists as another shower of bullets flew. She could hear triggers being pulled, the jangle of the metal casings hitting the floor, smell an acrid heat that she knew was gunpowder.

  “What the hell?” she heard someone cry as she crashed into the row of men, breaking their ranks, sending them flying into the remaining tables. She felt hands seize her as the soldiers who hadn’t been knocked down fell upon her in a wave, trying to wrestle her to the ground. They were kindling in her hands, insubstantial. She threw them off, and one struck the temple’s gate hard enough to buckle the stone pillar.

  Is this all you are? something inside her demanded. Cowards clutching your guns? Give me a challenge.

  Diana heard a high, whining sound, like the rising shriek of a firework. From across the reflecting pool, another man was aiming something at her. It was far larger than the other weapons, its barrel terminating in a wide, ugly mouth.

  “Diana, get down!” screamed a voice.

  Nim. She was on the floor where the musicians had been gathered, their instruments now abandoned. Her face was tearstained, the heavy kohl that lined her eyes trickling down her cheeks, and Diana saw a pretty blonde in an elaborate gown lying motionless beside her.

  Panic flooded Diana’s body as that high whine reached a crescendo. Her muscles itched to dive, evade, run. Instead, she listened to the fighting instinct that had been trained into her over countless hours in the Armory, that had flowed into her with her mother’s blood and the blessing of the gods—the warrior’s call that refused to let her flinch. If she didn’t have a shield, she would make one.

  The floor was set with huge slate tiles. She flattened her palms and drove her fingers into the narrow space between two of them, ignoring the pain, and yanked the slab upward.

  The man with the big gun fired. Diana glimpsed a flash of glowing blue light and a wall of pressure slammed into her, knocking her off her feet and hurling her backward, the slab blown to dust in her hands. She struck the wall, breath releasing in a grunt, and slid to the floor. Then she was back on her feet, shaking off the force of the impact. What was that thing?

  Diana heard that electrical whine begin again as the weapon repowered—but this time the soldier was aiming toward the temple. Her mind registered Jason trying to herd partygoers to shelter, her ears plucking the steady command of his voice from the chaos. She couldn’t see Alia, but she had to be behind the temple with Theo.

  Diana knew she wouldn’t reach the gunman in time to stop him from firing. She looked down at the tiles fitted together on the floor. She needed reinforcements. Maybe they could be her army. She took a running leap toward the soldier and came down hard, foot and fist connecting with the ground at the same time. The tiles lifted in a rippling wave, and the man with the pulse gun screamed as the floor heaved beneath his feet. He toppled.

  Diana sprang toward him, seized the weapon from his arms, and snapped it in two. He skittered backward in a crouch, his eyes wide and terrified.

  He drew his sidearm and fired, but her mind had registered his intention in the shift of his shoulders. Her wrists were already moving to deflect the bullets, bracelets clanging like finger cymbals in some bloody dance. One of the bullets pinged off her right wrist and struck his thigh. He yelped. She grabbed him by his collar.

  “What are you?” he gasped.

  A hundred answers came to mind, but she opted for the easiest one. “A tourist.”

  She tossed him into the reflecting pool.

  Diana wrenched two more slate slabs from the edge of the pool, stepped back, and hurled them at the snipers on the balcony. It was a bit like trying to knock down ceramic targets with her Amazon sisters. Except these targets grunted or whimpered instead of exploding into pieces.

  The other soldiers around her were recovering, getting to their feet. Diana raced toward Nim and grabbed her under one arm.

  Nim squeaked but thankfully didn’t fight her. Diana wasn’t sure how much she’d seen, how much any of them had seen of what she could do—what she hadn’t even known she could do—but she couldn’t think about that now.

  Again, she heard weapons being cocked. This time she was ready for the gunfire that would follow. She dove to the floor, protecting Nim’s body from the fall, and rolled until they were at the back of the temple. Alia grabbed hold of Nim and hugged her tight as they both sobbed and another round of gunfire erupted through the air.

  “You made it,” said Jason on a grateful gasp. He squeezed out a couple of shots from behind the additional cover he’d constructed from a stack of tables, and Diana saw that he’d managed to get a fair number of guests behind the temple. Some were still crowded against the room’s exits, trying to push through the doors,
but at least snipers were no longer picking them off.

  Diana and the others crouched in a knot against the temple wall. They didn’t have much time. She could see the fear in their faces as Alia held tight to Nim and Theo. Jason’s eyes were bright, his jaw clenched. Only he looked ready for a fight.

  “They’re going to blow the temple,” Diana said as loudly as she dared over the roar of gunfire.

  “The helicopter—” Alia began.

  Jason shook his head. “It was on the roof.” The men had rappelled down from above. The roof must be compromised.

  The gunfire stopped.

  In the eerie silence, Diana could hear the soldiers’ murmurs and shouts. They were speaking a language different from Alia and Jason’s, but Diana understood it. German, she realized, and they kept repeating the same word: Entzünderin. Igniter. They might have been talking about the bombs, but Diana had a feeling they were referring to Alia.

  “They’re setting explosives,” she said.

  Nim’s eyes were dazed. “They’re going to blow up the museum?”

  Theo gave his head a sharp shake. “What is all this? What do they want?”

  “We’ll explain when we’re out of here,” said Jason.

  “If we get out of here,” said Alia. “There’s no helicopter—”

  Jason’s brow furrowed. “What if I can get the jet here?”

  “Where would it land?” said Theo. “You can’t put that on the roof. We need a runway.”

  “The Great Lawn,” offered Nim.

  “It’s a long sprint to the park,” said Alia.

  Jason bobbed his chin toward the blocked doors. “First we have to get out of this room.”

  “You’ll get out,” said Diana. “I’ll make sure you do.”

  Jason jabbed at his phone and spoke rapidly into it.

  Diana had no idea how feasible a landing was, but she had to believe there was a way out of this, not just for Alia but for the people who had put on their best finery and come here to drink and dance tonight. She could sense their mortal lives flickering, fleeting as the shine of fireflies under glass.