Raven jumped back into the water and stuck her head under to communicate. With a last glance at Richard, the merman followed suit.
After several minutes, during which Raven had to surface for air multiple times, the harpy flapped out of the water and smiled at Richard. "You are fortunate; Tempest will help you. There is no reason he should, but he was impressed by what he saw."
"That makes two of us," Richard smiled.
A ribbon of ice was already forming on the surface of the water, solidifying into a thick slab that rose above the rippling waves by a good foot. It snaked out from the shore toward the distant island at an astonishing speed. Richard put a tentative foot on the ice path, surprised to find it completely steady; the path was a virtual wall of ice that went all the way to the bottom, and considering how quickly the water became very deep, that was no minor feat. The surface of ice was less slick than he imagined, being dry and rough-textured for better footing. Amazing, that someone who lived underwater would think about something like that.
Roy followed him onto the ice, but Jericho hung back. Even with four good feet it would have been a tricky crossing for someone of his size, but with slippery hooves and an injured leg, he wasn't about to attempt it. Richard couldn't blame him, although he felt an unexpected pang of loss at the thought of the stallion staying behind.
"Fear not, Richard," Raven told him, reading the emotions on his face, "we will be fine, and will await you here."
He nodded and set out for the island with grim determination. Whatever they faced, they would have to do so alone, with his sword and what few arrows remained in Roy's quiver. Jericho, for all that he wasn't half the willing warrior most centaurs were, would still have made an ideal ally -- if he could cross the miles-long trail of ice. Horses were strong swimmers, but centaurs were built wrong for it. In shallows they did fine, but they sank too readily, a lethal trait in deep waters.
Roy tugged on Richard's shirt and pointed out into the depths. Tempest was pacing them, either out of curiosity or to maintain his freezing spell. Trailing him was another of his kind, a golden yellow female with bright red fins.
The trek to the island was slower than if it had been over land. Every step was made tentatively; one misstep would plunge them into the frigid water, and though both were strong swimmers, neither looked forward to a cold bath. Added to the fact that they were tiring, it took all their energy just to plant their feet properly on the ice.
The sun was setting by the time they reached the island. Richard turned to wave his thanks to Tempest, who slapped the surface with his tail before vanishing into the depths. The ice path disappeared with him, melting back into the rest of the seawater. How he and Roy would return to the mainland was a mystery for now; perhaps Raven would know when they were ready to depart.
Assuming, of course, that they were the victors in the upcoming battle.
Sleep would have been eagerly welcomed, but they couldn't afford to lose any advantage their unusual mode of arrival had afforded them, or even the clich�d but useful cover of darkness. As they had approached the island, they had noticed a castle perched atop its peak; that, then, was their destination. The eagle pendant confirmed it, glowing as brightly as a small flame in the palm of Richard's hand.
They did take the time for a brief nap in order to gather both strength and wits for the climb to the castle. It wasn't perilously steep, but rugged enough to demand their full attention. Thankfully, there seemed to be no brambles growing on the island; moving through the underbrush was challenging enough without being torn to pieces in the process.
The castle was dark, which wasn't surprising, given the time of the night. It was also completely undefended, which was a surprise. Less so, given that it was on an island, but that hardly meant impregnable. Richard's alarms went off in his head -- easy access to a castle only meant one of two things: the castle was abandoned, or they were walking into a trap.
He whispered as much to Roy, who shrugged in response. "What else can we do?" he asked. "Donna's in there, and the only way for us to rescue her is to go in after her."
Unfortunately, he was right; Richard couldn't see any help for it but to go in and keep their wits about them. They already knew that their adversary was well-versed in teleportation spells, but perhaps that was the extent of their magical knowledge. He fervently hoped so; his sword was less than useless against a death-spell.
The glowing pendant gave them all the light they needed to find their way safely through the cavernous rooms and up the twisting staircase, to a small room at the top of one of the lookout towers. It was cold and drafty in the room, and Richard knew a moment's hot anger at the thought of his sister being locked in such inhospitable conditions.
As it happened, Donna couldn't have cared less.
She was lying on a well-padded cot, covered by a crystal dome. She would have suffocated under the crystal in short order if she had been breathing, but she wasn't. Despite her lack of any signs of life, she wasn't dead. Her features didn't have the slackness of death, and her eagle pendant glowed with renewed vigor in her presence. It was a setback Richard should have anticipated, and he kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. He didn't know how to undo such a spell, and finding Donna was pointless if rescuing her was impossible.
No, nothing was impossible, his father had always told him. You just had to look harder, think of options your enemy might have overlooked. There were always alternatives.
Assuming you had the time to find them.
"Foolish children," a voice hissed from the doorway behind them, "did you think mere darkness would hide your presence from me?"
In large doses, magic had a way of affecting people. Anyone could practice the little magicks Richard knew with no ill effect, but serious use of arcane knowledge left its imprint on the user, as if to warn others just what they were up against. The greater the magical knowledge, the less human the appearance.
The woman who faced them was still recognizably human, though no longer what she had been. Gone was the wavy chestnut hair, replaced by inky black tresses reminiscent of Raven's head feathers. Gone too was a healthy skin tone; she was as white as a corpse, the kind of bone-white that even a year spent lying in the sun wouldn't change, made even whiter by the contrast with her black dress. Her fingers had elongated, though they lacked the webbing and graceful motion of Tempest's hands.
But her eyes were exactly as Richard always thought they would be, small and intense, and burning with three generation's worth of hatred. The eyes told him who it was he faced. "Dark Angel," he spat, shifting his grip on his sword hilt.
He hadn't expected the name to infuriate her. "Whelp of a whore," she snarled, "you will address me by my proper name and title! To you, I am Baroness Paula von Gunther!"
"Uh, I take it you two know each other?" Roy asked, keeping his bow taut.
Richard nodded, keeping his eyes on the woman he knew as Dark Angel. "My mother told us stories of her mother's enemy, who sought to destroy all that Hippolyta cherished. She said that Baroness von Gunther was a weak and petty woman who allowed dark magicks to corrupt her in her quest to kill Hippolyta."
Unnaturally long fingers traced burning sigils in the air. "Is that what you were told, child?" she taunted, wafting the spell in Roy's direction. No matter how he moved, he couldn't evade it, but when it struck, the only effect it had was to dissolve his bow string. "Of course Hippolyta would make me the villain! Azar forbid that her children be able to see her for what she is, that lying, thieving jade!"
She took a small step forward and locked eyes with Richard. "Tell me, spawn of Hippolyta, how it is your mother's family gained its lands."
He stared at her, nonplussed. "Our lands -- ?"
She crossed her arms impatiently. "There is a reason for our antagonism, child. Tell me what you think you know."
"My grandmother was a warrior queen," Richard explained, more for Roy's benefit than anything else. "She hired her people out as armies for landed kings, many of whom repaid her with lands of her own. When she met my grandfather, she handed her queenship to her sister Antiope and became a Lady, ruling instead the lands of Themyscira."
"'Repaid' her, indeed!" she snorted. "As if we had a choice!" She stalked over to the couch and sat down, indicating that the two men should do likewise. When they remained standing, she shrugged and continued.
"The lands of Themyscira were mostly mine. It was a rich, tranquil land, and we had no need of armies. My people worked the land in peace, and tithed to me what was my due as Baroness. In return, I made sure that marauders were kept from their farms, that their children were educated, that medicine was available to all who needed it. It was as close to paradise as could be found on earth... until Hippolyta came, and saw, and coveted what was not hers.
"She brought her entire army, and surrounded my castle. I refused to grant her my lands as she demanded. In response, she slaughtered my garrison. I was shocked at such cruelty, but such is the way of soldiers; I thought it a petty act of vengeance that would soon be followed by her departure.
"Ah, I was so naive, back then!
"Again she issued her demands. Again, I refused. That was foolish of me, I know that, now; I hadn't any military with which to fight her, and I knew only simple magicks. But I hadn't foreseen the depths of her depravity. She rounded up half a dozen men from the nearest village and threatened to kill them if I did not accede to her unjust demands. I was certain she was merely bluffing.
"She wasn't.
"As I watched those poor men die, I knew this Amazonian monster would kill every living thing if that was what it took to get her way. She said as much, telling me that she would slay every man on my lands if I refused her again. There was no other way to save my people; I signed my lands over to her and left with nothing more than what my horse could carry.
"In time, I learned greater magic, enough for me to create this island. Paradise Island, I call it, to remind me of my mission in life -- to avenge the paradise lost to Hippolyta and her bitches! I never laughed so hard as when I heard that Antiope had grown weary of her dull role as garrison commander and led a rebellion against Hippolyta! Oh yes, Hippolyta handed the queenship to her -- in exchange for Antiope sparing her miserable life! The Amazons rode off with their new queen, back to whatever infernal lands they came from, and I am not at all sorry to say that I've heard nothing of them since that day."
Richard let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and sheathed his sword.
"Robbie, what the heck are you doing?" Roy asked, still clutching his useless bow. "You can't possibly believe these lies she's spouting!"
Richard shook his head. "No, Roy, they aren't lies. It explains too much... why we rarely travelled to Themyscira, why we were never welcome there -- why an Amazon queen would suddenly give up her queenship and settle for the lesser title of Lady. Mom never discussed it with me in more detail, even when I asked; I got the feeling that the answers she'd been given were enough for her, and she never looked beneath the surface of it. But dad will know." He turned to Dar-- to Paula von Gunther, he forcibly reminded himself. "I'll make you a deal. Release Donna unharmed, and I promise to speak with my father about this, to come to some sort of conclusion. It isn't right that we hold your lands, and I think my father would agree, if he heard your side of the story."
Paula regarded him with wary respect. "Ironic," she laughed, if bitterly, "that was my original intent. I had meant to snare your mother, not your sister, to force Lord Wayne into hearing my tale. You sister is much like her mother -- so much so, that I did not realize my error until she was standing before me."
"I agree, she's much like mom," Richard grinned. "Right down to her taste in men." Roy gave him an odd look, but said nothing.
Paula ignored their exchange, rising and walking over to where Donna lay immobile. Placing one hand on the crystal, she murmured a quiet spell and the crystal dissolved into mist. Simultaneously, Donna yawned and stretched, then looked around. "Where --?"
Forgetting the tension of moments before, Roy bounded forward and wrapped her in his arms. "You're safe now, Donna; we're taking you home."
Donna's gaze fell on Paula. "I'm taking you down, witch," she snarled, pushing Roy aside.
Unconcerned, Paula watched as Richard put himself between her and his sister. "Donna, no," he said, holding up his hands to ward her off. "We're free to go -- all of us. For now, let's leave it at that, OK?" Donna was clearly unhappy with that decision, but realizing that her brother knew something she didn't, she agreed to let bygones be bygones. He handed her back her pendant; she slid it over her head, its glow fading as it came into contact with her.
"This way," Paula announced, turning toward the door and expecting them to follow. She led them down from the tower and out into the stables, where three horses awaited them, saddled and prepared for travel. How she had contacted the stablehands, or where they had been during his and Roy's arrival, Richard couldn't begin to guess, unless it involved more magic.
"I give you these mounts as a gesture of goodwill," Paula was saying as he snapped his attention back to the present. Catching his surprised expression, she added, "Of course I was tracking you for your entire journey, and witnessed the loss of your horses. This is for your centaur." She held out her hand, and a roll of cloth appeared in a flash of light. "It is a medicated bandage, and will speed the healing of his leg."
Grateful as he was for the assistance, Richard was displeased to learn that Paula had been observing them the whole time. Did that mean she would have watched them die in the catclan's attack if Jericho hadn't saved them? Did she send the catclan after them in the first place? Pointless conjecture, perhaps, but he filed away the possibilities for later consideration. "Thank you," he replied automatically, taking the bandage from her.
Roy and Donna were already mounted, so Richard boosted himself up onto the saddle of his horse and looked down at his former adversary. "You should expect a messenger no later than a month from now; I can't say that we'll have reached a conclusion by then, but we'll keep you updated on our progress. And," he added hesitantly, "if everyone can remain civil about it, maybe you should consider a visit to Castle Wayne, to discuss the matter in person."
She inclined her head regally, giving his suggestion due consideration before sending them off with a wave of her hand. The horses were used to it, but the three humans were startled to find themselves abruptly on the mainland shore, miles away from Paradise Island. Jericho was no less startled; he looked ready to bolt as fast as his injured leg would let him.
"Jericho, it's us," Roy called to the centaur, sliding down from his horse and handing the reins to Donna. "We were teleported back here. It's faster than walking, but my stomach can't recommend it."
Richard tossed him the cloth roll, glancing around for Raven. Sure enough, she was gone, as she always was after nightfall. His gaze travelled out over the dark waters, searching for any sign of movement under the waves. He was thrilled when a pale form half rose from the water, waving a long, webbed hand in a mimicry of Richard's earlier gesture. Smiling, he returned the wave and the figure disappeared again, the barest flash of red signalling his exit.
Beautiful , Richard thought, watching Tempest's wake vanish in the waves.
Roy finished rebandaging Jericho's leg and looked up at Richard. "What next, fearless leader? Depart immediately or camp for the night?"
The very question made Richard yawn. "We can sleep in the saddle, but it's really up to Jericho; he's the one who's been walking all day."
Whatever Jericho signed was utterly incomprehensible to Richard's sleep-deprived brain. It must have shown on his face, because the stallion laughed and began walking slowly back into the woods. Roy quickly remounted his horse and the three of them followed the centaur. I really have got to learn his language , Richard told himself before sliding into dreams.
He awoke to the sound of muted conversations and the rumble of wagons. Opening his eyes in the gentle morning light, he saw that they were once more on a road. This time, though, Jericho was very aware of the looks the humans gave him, and he stayed close to the road's edge, the forest's safety just a leap away.
Easing his horse up next to the centaur, Richard smiled and stretched, noticing that the stallion was walking much better on his forelimb than before. "If you don't mind, staying on the road will bring us home faster and easier than winding through the forests. And I'd rather not lose yet another set of horses to the Catwoman's still-hungry clan."
Jericho nodded reluctantly; he was still edgy around humans other than his three companions, but he didn't really have any other options but to stay with them. A lone centaur was a dead centaur -- or worse, a captive one. If Richard wanted to travel by road, then they would travel by road, and he would just have to hope for the best.
'Thank you,' Richard signed, smiling at the shocked expression on the stallion's face. "I learned that from you, with some help from Raven. I'd like to learn the rest of the language, if you're willing to teach me."
"Teach us all," Donna called from behind them. "Roy and I want to learn, too."
"Unless he takes up walking backward, sweets, he's going to have a tough time managing that," Roy chuckled, checking the tension on his newly-restrung bow.
"The village of Neyork should be less than an hour's ride from here," Richard noted. "We could stop at the inn, get something to eat, and take up learning Jericho's language before heading out again."
Panicked shouts and gestures from many of the humans on the road announced the approach of Raven, who ignored the outcry and took up her usual perch on Jericho's croup. He flicked his tail at her by way of greeting, not minding her slight weight on his back.
Richard told the tale of the island adventure to both the centaur and the harpy, expecting playful interruptions by Roy until he glanced back and saw the archer engrossed in his own conversation with Donna. The central conflict over land ownership was familiar to Jericho, if not to Raven; while centaurs didn't own land and migrated with the seasons, each herd established a territory into which other herds were not allowed. That a defeated previous owner would contest the new order even after several generations did seem unusually presumptuous, but the stallion attributed it to the vagaries of human behavior.
The complicated explanation of human land ownership that followed was interrupted by their arrival at Neyork. Jericho stopped dead in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at the odd structures that clustered together by a bend in the nearby river. He's never seen our buildings , Richard realized with a shock. "They're just big, permanent rain tarps," he clarified for the stallion. "We're not as hardy as centaurs; we don't like being at the mercy of the weather."
That seemed to be sufficient for Jericho, who tentatively followed Richard's lead into town. As adults screamed, scrambled to get out of their way, or simply grabbed their children and ran, it dawned on him that he had misread human expressions. What he had taken for hostility was, in fact, fear.
Of him .
That came as a surprise. His herd had lost members to humans, but none of the herd had ever dragged home a human as a prize. Well, not until he very stupidly brought home two of them, that is. Centaurs had every reason to fear large groups of humans, and given that antagonism, he supposed it was only logical for the humans to assume they had just as much to fear from him. And perhaps their concern would not have been misplaced, had it been his sire walking their streets and not him. But there was no way for them to know that.
The three humans dismounted and tied up their horses in front of a tavern called The Bl�dhaven Inn. After confronting yet another novelty -- stairs -- Jericho trailed the others inside.
"Hey!" the bartender yelled at Richard. "What do you think this is, a stable? Get that -- that thing out of here!"
Less than an hour ago, Jericho would have been offended by that comment. Knowing what he did now, he observed how the man was trembling, avoiding eye contact with the centaur. The stallion felt sorry for the frightened little human, but he knew that approaching the man would only terrify him more.
Richard tossed a gold coin at the bartender. "This says he stays, and the harpy, too." Jericho had never heard Richard use the Voice of nobility before, an imperious tone worthy of a chief stallion's demeanor.
That and the gold certainly had the desired effect. "But, young lord," the bartender made a last attempt, "what of my other customers?"
Richard shrugged. "What of them? They keep to their business, and we'll keep to ours. We're paying customers, too -- even if some of us do have a few extra legs." He led them to a booth in the corner, which had room enough for Raven to perch on the table's edge and Jericho to lie down in front of it. They ordered enough food for twice their number, but the bartender made no comment, bringing everything that was requested and beating a hasty retreat.
While they ate, Jericho began teaching them the basic signs and grammar of his people's silent language. All three of the humans proved to be quick studies, and soon even their questions to him were signed instead of spoken. They were so engrossed in their language studies that none of them paid the slightest heed to anything else in the tavern, so the sudden shrill voice beside them made them all jump.
"I wanna horsie ride!"
Jericho turned to look at the little human girl who had clambered up onto his back and sat there, bouncing impatiently. "I wanna horsie ride!" she repeated, as if he hadn't heard her the first time.
A deadly silence had fallen over the tavern. Slowly, Jericho got to his feet, making sure to keep his back as level as possible so the girl wouldn't fall. Chuckling to himself, he walked around the tavern, ignoring the girl's demands for him to increase his speed to a canter. As he walked, he looked at the nearby humans; they were all still visibly tense, even though he had shown no signs of aggression to the girl. One woman was more than merely tense, holding her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. The girl's dam, most likely; he stopped in front of her table and lowered himself so that she could snatch her daughter from his back. The girl complained loudly, heedless of the adults' fear, and her mother silenced her with the admonition that she was lucky she hadn't been thrown across the room or trampled for her impertinence.
"Can I have the next horsie ride?" Roy asked as Jericho returned to their table.
The centaur mimicked the scowl of an angry human, the effect of which was ruined by the laughter in his eyes. 'The last time I gave you a ride, my sire nearly left his hoof prints in my hide,' he retorted. 'The Lady Donna may have one, if she so chooses,' he added, turning a warm smile on her. She blushed.
"Hey," Roy protested, sliding his arm around Donna's shoulders, "I have enough problems in my personal life without having to compete with you! Azar, that's all I need, a guy who attracts females of every species!" Raven fluffed her feathers, but made no other comment.
Donna smiled and snuggled against Roy. "Don't worry, love, he isn't the only one here who's 'hung like a horse', as it were." Now it was Roy's turn to blush.
"Oh-ho, and just what do you know about that , young lady?" Richard asked, the wicked gleam of sibling trouble in his eye.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Donna teased, playfully sticking her tongue out at her brother.
"Wouldn't mom and dad like to know," he threatened with mock ire.
"Speaking of dads..." Roy hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued. "Robbie, what did you mean back on Paradise Island, when you compared me to your dad?"
Richard's eyebrows twitched. "Describe my father."
"In a word?" Roy asked. "Intimidating."
"Well," Richard conceded, " beyond the intimidating part."
Roy thought about it. "He's focused. Loyal to his Prince and his family. Concerned with justice for his people. A good Lord, and a good man."
Richard nodded. "Now I'll describe you. Focused. Loyal to his lady-love and to his family, both natural and adopted. Concerned with justice for all. A good man, and better still, a good friend."
Roy looked downright embarrassed now. "I... thanks, Robbie. You don't know how much that means to me." He tightened his grip on Donna. "But -- if I'm so much like your dad, why is your mom so set against me being with Donna? Is she that hung up on status?"
"Think about it, Roy," Donna said quietly. "If what Dark -- if what Paula said of my grandmother is true, then we have no noble heritage on my mother's side. Maybe dad doesn't care, but other nobles do, and we'd lose face in Price Clark's court if it was common knowledge. As long as we marry nobility, no one thinks to question it. Maybe mom's afraid that if we 'stoop' to marrying commoners, someone might get suspicious and start checking -- and find the truth."
Roy froze. "So... what you're saying is, you wouldn't marry me if I asked you to."
"If she doesn't, it won't have anything to do with our history," Richard interrupted. "If we return the lands -- as I hope to persuade my father to do -- everyone will know, regardless. And if she waits to give you an answer until after I have one from Princess Kory, then it won't matter because if we're good enough for royalty, we're practically given free reign to marry anyone we want."
" If we're not in the direct line of succession," Donna clarified, "and I'm not. It goes from Princess Kory to her children, and if she has none, then to her younger brother, Prince Ryan, and his children. Who I marry makes no difference to anyone but me."
"And me," Roy added.
"Well," Donna grinned, "then I guess I better marry you."
Richard buried his head in his arms as his little sister rewarded her rescuer and future husband with a zealous token of her appreciation. Latching on to the rumbling laughter of the nearby centaur as a suitable distraction, he prodded Jericho in the ribs with his boot. "Move out, old horse," he grinned, sliding out of the booth. "Maybe if we leave, they'll stop long enough to follow."
Jericho swatted Richard with his tail for the horse comment and trotted past him, holding the door open so Raven could sail through it and up onto the roof. As expected, Donna and Roy relinquished their grip on one another and ran after the others, laughing. The other tavern patrons let out a collective sigh of relief as the door closed behind them; this had been an event that would serve as a source of gossip for months to come.
In high spirits, they took the road at a canter, Jericho's leg still tender, but now healed to the point where he could once again make full use of it. With no obstacles to avoid and a straight road back to Gotham Valley, their return trip looked to be much shorter than their winding journey through the woods. Away from the village, there was much less traffic, and they picked up their speed to a full gallop for a while.
After a brief hassle similar to the one in the tavern, they spent the night in another village inn. Jericho wasn't overly fond of sleeping on the hard wooden floor, but it beat staying half-awake all night in the nearby woods, keeping an eye out for profit-minded humans or hungry catfolk. Raven was waiting for them on the roof when they left the next morning, and they set out once again.