Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(28)
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 millpond?
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.