CHAPTER ONE
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"I don't care what that doctor said, Martha," grumped Jonathan Kent. "We'll have a baby one way or another, you'll see." He carefully steered the old pickup truck down the winding road near Schuster's Field, never taking his attention off the road, but glancing at his wife from time to time.
"But... but I'm barren, Jonathan. I can't bear children." She was on the verge of yet another crying jag, after one of the great dreams of her life was utterly crushed.
"Oh, phooey. Martha... Love... if worse comes to worse, we can always adopt. Remember, my cousin Mark was adopted, 'cause Uncle Nathan was injured in Guadalcanal." Jonathan sighed. "We'll have ourselves a bundle of joy if I have to put up the farm to afford it."
"But... Jonathon!" she cried out.
"No, I mean it, Martha, I'd do it in a heartbeat if..."
"No, Jonathan, look out!" she cried again, pointing out her window. A brilliantly glowing object could be seen in the early twilight, racing almost directly towards them at a fantastic pace.
"Hold on!" shouted the farmer, as he tried to guess if he'd be better off hitting the brake or the accelerator. After only a moment's hesitation, he dropped the gas pedal to the floor, and the old truck growled in discomfort as it surged ahead.
The object roared almost directly past them, the wind of its wake buffeting the old vehicle, and shaking up both Jonathan and Martha Kent. About the only thought that raced through his mind as he held tightly onto the steering wheel with one hand, and his wife's arm with the other, was that he was ever so glad he had not hit the brakes.
The resounding shock wave when the object struck the ground in Schuster's Field could not rightly be called a sound, as it was so powerful to knock branches off of trees nearly a mile away, and could be heard nearly ten miles away at the Smallville Courthouse. For the Kents, it was most definitely not a sound, but something that rattled them to the bones, and nearly deafened them. A tiny trickle of blood traced down from Jonathan's left ear as he wrestled with the truck, slamming on the brakes and trying to steer with the shock wave to keep it from flipping.
After several long moments of relative silence, Jonathan looked at his wife. She was white as a sheet, and the close encounter had obviously shaken her as much as it had him. "Wh-what was that?" she asked. "A meteor? Some kind of satellite crashing down?"
Shrugging, the farmer made a decision. "I think it's a meteor. And I'm gonna go have a look. You stay here, okay?"
"Not on your life, Jonathan Kent! It might still be dangerous, and you know I'm a better shot than you!"
"Shot? Martha, what good is a .410 gonna do against a red-hot hunk of space rock?" he asked in astonishment.
"I... I don't know. But for all we know, it might not be a meteor - it might be a Soviet satellite! And who knows what they had on it!" She was already unlimbering the relatively small shotgun from the gun rack of the truck, and put her hand on the door handle. "Shall we?"
Smoke still rose from the fifty-yard trench as they approached it. Dozens of shards of rock were scattered down its length, culminating at a bulbous, metallic shape. A hiss broke the silence, and Martha dropped to one knee, sighting over the barrel at whatever had made the sound. Slowly, the front end of the object rose, and movement could be seen through the mist.
"Oh, my God," muttered Jonathon. "It's..."
"A baby!" cried Martha. Almost knocking her husband down as she shoved the shotgun into his chest, she darted for the end of the trench. "Jonathon, come here, come here!"
Moving towards the edge of the ploughed up ground, they found that it was still to hot to approach any closer - yet the baby was still there, crawling around. Seeing the two of them, he let out a giggle, and managed to stand on a pair of wobbly feet. Slowly, he approached them.
"That's it, honey! Come here!" said Martha, holding out her arms as close as she dared to the still cooling trench. And to her amazement, the baby did.
"Well, it's a boy, I can tell that much," quipped Jonathon, grinning. "But what are we going to do with him?"
The look his wife gave him told him that not only was the answer obvious, but he was also probably going to regret even asking the question.
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Rumors followed the boy, who they named Clark, for most of his early life in Smallville. However, none of them would even come close to the truth. Some said that Martha had a cousin or sister who found herself 'in trouble', and ended up giving the child to the Kents. Some, seeing the slightly olive cast to his skin and faint slant to his eyes thought he was bought from some overseas black market baby ring. But most assumed that he was adopted in Topeka, and that all those other annoying busybodies should just keep their noses out of the Kents' business.
He grew strong and tall - no taller than anyone suspected, but far stronger. And far faster, as well. Other abilities manifested over time, culminating in the one that even he had a hard time believing he had - the power of flight. But with each new power he developed, he felt more and more apart from everyone else he knew, even his parents. Clark had known of his origins since he was thirteen, and often wondered just why he was on Earth. He didn't believe that he was some sort of Soviet or American experiment, because then almost any child adopted around that time would fall under intense scrutiny. No, he fully believed he was an alien, though from where or how he had no idea.
The end of the Eighties found him coming to a decision the Kents knew was coming for a very long time. He was leaving Smallville, though to where he didn't know, yet. He was going to find himself, and hopefully figure out a way to use his amazing abilities for the good of all.
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"Once was Twelve," moaned the ephemeral shape, drifting through the halls of fabled Olympus. "Twelve still, but not the same... lost, forgotten, mocked... no more..."
When it had first happened, Artemis found herself shocked, and almost in tears. The mighty Zeus, slayer of Ouranos and king of the gods, had given up. All that remained of him was this ghastly specter, a mockery of the powerful supernatural being he once was. But now, nearly half the gods had likewise given up, and so all she felt when she beheld him was dread. Dread that more of her fellows would join him - and worst of all, dread that she might, as well, one day.
Shaking off her fear, she continued down the white marble halls, to her brother's chambers. Apollo remained, and was in fact the current king of the gods. Of the original Dodekatheon, only six remained: Apollo, Athena, Hermes, Hephaestos, Hestia, and herself. Twelve other gods had been brought up to fill the gaps, but things were different now... so very different.
"Are you coming in, sister, or are you simply going to stand there in thought?" came the voice of the sun god from within.
Shaking herself, she stepped in, and reclined on a couch near the door. "I apologize, brother. I encountered... Father."
He knew at once what bothered her, and dropped to his own couch. "I see. I... I asked you here because another has left us. And I need you to gather Athena and Eos. The Dodekatheon must meet, to choose another to fill its ranks."
"But what of Persephone? Normally you have me send for her. Did she...is she..."
"No, not her. She is already at hand. Owing to her position, she felt the passing of our lost member. No, it was Nike who left us. And with the loss of Victory, my hope begins to fade even swifter." He let his head fall back, and sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if it would not be better simply to give up, and become as they are."
Flushed with anger, Artemis bolted to her feet. "How DARE you suggest that! Apollo, if we give up, if we fade, then what happens to those few of our worshipers that remain? To the Amazons, and to the Outlying Realms? Worse yet, would that not release the Titans if there were no more Dodekatheon?"
Apollo raised his head and hand. " I am sorry, I do apologize. But when I think of what we have lost... and what changes we have endured and witnessed... well, it is merely an occasional idle thought. The slayer of Python would not so easily give up, I assure you.
"But still... Zeus, Rhea, Demeter, Hera, Hades, Aphrodite, Herakles... the list goes on. All faded into wisps of memory, sustained only by literary presence in the minds of mortals. Neptune has left us, to dwell beneath the waves forevermore. And Hermes... what he has become... still, at least he remains with us, and stands by us." He glanced up, for his chambers had no roof, at the shining sun overhead. "I do not know how many more centuries I can stand this. But know that, rather than give up, I would dwell inside the sun forever, that I may at least keep watch on our charges."
"But then you would no longer be our king." The voice was sardonic, and definitely male. Without waiting for permission, Hermes Trismegistus strode into Apollo's chambers. "I assure you, I no more wish to see anyone else saddled with that responsibility than I wish to sell you another lyre."
"You're late," grumbled Apollo. "A millenia ago it would have only taken you ten minutes to round up Hephaestos, Hebe, Hekate, and Hestia."
"Ah, yes. I stopped to admire a new art form the mortals are developing. Or are about to finish developing. It involves using those calculating devices to create sculptures out of nothingness. They call it 'three Dee' art." He grinned. "Besides, I finally realized after all this time that you always had me gather those four, not because they dwell farther from Olympus than the rest, but because all of our names begin with the letter 'H'."
This actually stopped Apollo in his tracks. "Fourteen hundred years? It took you, the trickster among us, the one who absorbed the power and knowledge of Thoth of the Egyptians, fourteen hundred years to realize that?"
"Well, actually, no," confessed Hermes. "I figured it out the first time you sent me out like that, I just thought it would make a good excuse if I ever felt like being late."
"While this is all very entertaining, brothers, if you will excuse me I have the last two to gather," said Artemis. She pushed her way past the smirking messenger of the gods, and left Olympus.
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As Clark Kent grew, and came into the fullness of his power, another black-haired child grew as well. Diana of the Amazons, as befitted the daughter of the Queen, learned from the best trainers that could be found. Philippa of the Guard taught her the arts of war, while aged Ismene taught her the ways of wisdom and knowledge. However, one trainer her mother Hippolyta did not expect was one of the more recent Amazons, Ptolema.
Born as Johanna Hard, she was a widow from Norway, accused of piracy in the early nineteenth century. She managed to convince the judge that she was innocent, and once acquitted, promptly left for the sea. There, she continued her life of piracy, eventually sailing down to the Barbary Coast, before being slain by her own first mate. While she lived up to the definition of those who would become Amazons, she was among a group that was never trusted by the original handful, or those who better fit the spirit of the Amazons. However, unlike Mary Read or Anne Bonny, she did not take to piracy for any reason other than adventure.
From Ptolema, once Johanna Hard, Diana learned how to plan for the unexpected, and how to, as the outside world termed it, think outside the box. She also learned the idea of seizing the opportune moment, and that fate was only what one made of it. While that was practically heresy, in that the Amazons still revered Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, she managed to work it in to her personal understanding of the way the universe worked.
Upon the beginning of her eighteenth year, the priestess of Athena, Eupheme, had a vision before the entire court. They were informed that it was time that Themyscria revealed itself to the outside world, and present before what was called the United Nations an ambassador, and a petition to be acknowledged as a sovereign nation. It was revealed to them that, while many were still savage, most of the people of what was called 'The Free World' were remarkably enlightened. Though still not completely equal, great strides had been made within the last century for women, and the knowledge of the Amazons might tip the balance towards equality that much faster.
Thus, a tournament was declared, but not one that would normally be held in honor of Olympus and their gods. Instead, this tournament would test the competitors both physically, and mentally. It was a test of prowess, both physical, and mental. And the winner of this tournament would become the Amazons' representative to what they still called "Man's World".
Needless to say, the fact that her mother forbid her to enter vexed Diana greatly.
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Hippolyta's voice carried out to the crowd. "Only two challengers remain in this, our final test. To my left, in crimson, stands Callisto of Thebes, second only to Phillipus in the Guard. And to my right, in cerulean, stands a maiden with no name, who chose to enter masked. Agnostonoma, as she has been declared for this contest, whose right to enter was requested by Athena, herself."
The crowd was dead silent, for they knew not what challenge would come. It was commonly known that Agnostonoma was actually Diana, the Princess, and that her mother most certainly did not approve. Thus, since this challenge would be intended to give Callisto a heavy advantage without being too dangerous, only a few ideas were whispered back and forth.
"On this day, the ambassador from our fair island to Man's World shall be chosen. She shall not leave immediately, but shall instead be given three years of intensive training, and the gods themselves shall present themselves to grant her gifts for her duties. I must therefore ask complete silence, for this final competition is one of wit and wisdom. It is a riddle game."
A broad grin grew across Callisto's face. One of her closest friends back Pontus, before Herakles had raided them, was Phix the Sphinx. She found she could not blame Oedipus for her death, as she had hurled herself from a high rock upon finding that a man had actually solved her riddle. but prior to that fateful day, Phix and Callisto had spent many days trading riddles, and devising ever more clever ones.
Diana, on the other hand, frowned slightly. She knew the classic riddles, but never gave them much thought. She knew her mother was certain of her identity, but refused to give the queen the satisfaction. So she forced herself to smile broadly, and bowed her head.
"The first riddle shall be to Callisto," declared the queen. "I soar without wings, I see without eyes. I've traveled the universe to and fro. I've conquered the world, yet I've never been anywhere but home."
Callisto frowned, recognizing the style of riddle. Obviously it would be a concept, for nothing physical has ever flown without wings, nor seen without eyes. All those things done, yet having never left home... "The imagination, your majesty."
A smattering of applause passed through the crowd. "Correct. Now for Agnostonoma. Be you ever so quick, with vision keen, by your eyes, we are never seen. Unless perchance it should come to pass, you see our reflection in a looking glass. What are we?"
Diana blinked. She couldn't be so lucky, could she? One of the things that she and Ptolema would joke about was something she had said years ago, when the older woman had asked her what she saw in the mirror. "My eyes, your majesty," she answered without hesitation.
The rapidity of the answer appeared to take Hippolyta back, even as appreciative murmurs joined the applause from the crowd. When they had died down, the game continued, as the riddles for both contestants passed back and forth for much of the day. A combination of pure luck, as with the first riddle, and the creative thinking Ptolema taught her, helped her keep pace with Callisto, despite the older Amazon's significant advantage. Finally, it came down to the last riddle - one both had to answer, by writing their answer on a sheet of parchment.
"What is in my left hand?" called out Hippolyta, raising her left hand, closed into a fist.
The crowd was stunned into silence, taken aback by such an odd riddle - if it could even be called a riddle. Both contestants blinked, then bent over their podiums to think and write their answer.
After nearly half an hour, Callisto felt she had come up with a satisfactory answer. It was obviously a metaphor, after all, and probably relied on her position as Queen of the Amazons. Metaphorically speaking, the left hand of a ruler was the one that accomplished all of the jobs and necessities that had to be done, but could never be publicly acknowledged - most specifically, necessary assassinations. In fact, a Royal Assassin was often called a ruler's 'left hand'. Therefore, to her, the most logical answer would be "The lives of us all." Grinning, she turned to look at her opponent - who was already sitting down on a bench, and more than half way through a modest lunch.
Diana had finished scarcely two minutes after the riddle had been announced. On the one hand, this could be some heavy metaphor, rife with multiple layers of meaning or whatnot. Then again... what the heck. She had simply scrawled on her parchment, "Nothing."
The crowd grew silent as the Queen examined both sheets. Callisto and Diana stood tense as she placed them both down, and stood. "The winner of the Riddle Game, and thus the ambassador to Man's World is...
"...The competitor known as Agnostonoma. My daughter, Diana."
The princess lost herself in the cheers.
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