Chapter 21 (Olympe)

THE EMERALD MOUNTAINS

The group had been riding hard for nigh on four hours when they came upon clearing with a small creek making its way through it. Exhausted as they all were, Kal-el called a halt so they could refresh and gather new strength.

"Finally! I can't feel my legs any more," exclaimed Lady Lois, the fugitive wife of King Alexander Luthor.

"Consider it a blessing," advised Sir Walther, the knight usually clad in red. "Imagine feeling every single bone in your body."

Lady Lois threw the grinning knight a withering look as the group slowed to a trot. Krypto, who had been ahead of them, made straight for the water when, suddenly, he stood riveted to the spot, his hair standing on end. A low and menacing growl was rumbling from his chest.

Concerned, the group halted their horses. Only the elven Princess led her horse to approach the white canine, but before they reached him, Diana's steed reared and whinnied in obvious distress. Only years of training enabled the she-elf to stay in the saddle. Before Diana's trusted mare was back on all four, though, there was an answering neigh from the other side of the clearing. The she-elf squinted her eyes, but to her amazement, she was unable to spot the horse that must have answered her own.

"Diana, maybe we should ride on," Kal-el suggested, his face an unreadable mask as he approached his love. Sir Walther nodded vigorously. This place was eerie, and in his experience, that usually meant nothing but trouble.

But the elven Princess rode on, sword and shield suddenly at the ready. As Kal-el started to follow her, an unusually large bear attacked the dark-haired maiden. Her horse deftly sidestepped as Kal-el and the two knights in their company gave charge. Before they could reach her, though, they could see at least a dozen well-armed elves appear in the trees and bushes lining the clearing, cocking their crossbows at them and taking aim. Good aim. Each of the men could have sworn that he had at least half of the crossbows pointed at him.

At the same time, an ancient looking woman had snuck up on Lady Lois and knocked her off her horse. Putting one foot on the Lady's back for effect, she announced: "You are outnumbered and outmatched. Drop your weapons, and I might let you live."

*************************

SOMEWHERE HIGH ABOVE THE FORESTS OF DOMA

Patrick O'Brien was straining his powerful wings. He had to hurry to warn the elven Queen of Tresstom's betrayal, and he had to reach her before she entered the land of Doma. He was incredibly tired, having gone without sleep for a full day and a half, but he flew on. He just had to live up to the others' expectations. Why this was so important to him, he could not tell. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be respected and appreciated. Besides, there was the little matter of the Dark Emperor who tried to remake the world in his image, an image the thief did not want to even imagine.

While his wings were beating a furious rhythm, O'Brien looked down at the treetops below. He could hardly believe how fast he was going. Flying as an eagle was exhilarating, but this was so much better. He really should have thought about that himself, but it had taken Prince Richard to suggest he try the shape of a gryphon. Patrick parted his mighty beak in something resembling a grin. He so was going to use that shape again!

*************************

GOTHAMWORTH CASTLE

"So, are we agreed on these tactics?" King Gordon asked Prince Richard and his Knight, Lord Wayne.

The Dark Knight looked grim. "I do not like it. Even though numbers will not matter as much as in open territory, the odds do not favor us. We will probably lose most of our troops, if we survive at all. But I cannot perceive of another way."

Before Prince Richard could give his statement, though, the door to the war-room burst open, and an auburn-haired lass barely out of infancy stormed into the room. What had the men gawking at her, though, was her clothing – or lack thereof. It was a kind of *violet* body armor that left the impression of naked skin in strategic places, an outfit that had the apprentice mage lose his ability to speak.

At the sight of his childhood friend, Prince Richard jumped up in a most unprincely manner. "Kory! What are you doing here?"

At the mention of Richard's pet name for her, King Gordon belatedly recognized the Princess of Tamaran.

Koriand'r of Tamaran flung herself into the embrace of the man she secretly loved, but went to stand apart from him after only a short hug. "I come here with bad news," the young Princess began to relate her tale. "My people have been overrun by the Emperor's troops. My people are great warriors, and it was not through lack of battle prowess that we fell, but through treachery." As she said that, the three men in attendance could see an angry fire burn in her pupil-less green eyes. "It was my own sister who betrayed us. She told our enemies of all our defenses, and the battles we fought were more routs than battles. Now, our once proud kingdom is no more, with my people dead or captured and my family missing." As she finished, a tear was streaking down Koriand'r's bonnie face.

Ever the suspicious, Lord Wayne had put the fortunate arrival of the Princess to question. "How comes you are here, instead of dead or with your people?" Catching the accusing glare of his former student, he amended, "Not that we are not grateful for your survival."

Gazing straight at Lord Wayne, Princess Koriand'r gave a small nod. "My sister demanded that I be taken captive to serve her as a reward for her betrayal. Thus, I was put in chains and taken to her." The young woman gulped, then continued in a detached voice, "She had magical experiments performed on me, and they have changed me. Whatever it is she has done to me, it allowed me to escape." Looking mournfully around her, she finished, "I do not know what else I am capable of doing, what I have become. But I know this: I will fight the Emperor and my sister 'till death, or I will die trying." There was a sincerity in her voice and face that convinced even the most disbelieving soul, namely Lord Wayne.

Seeing that both his ally and his once again most trusted advisor were bent to believe the young Princess, King Gordon relented. "Well then, welcome to the Castle of Gothamworth. You can stay here until the dreadful situation with the Emperor is resolved."

Crossing her arms in front of her in a most unroyal way, Princess Koriand'r replied evenly, "No, I will not stay in a room to await my fate. I will fight by your side."

Taken aback, the old King protested, "But you are just a woman!"

At that, Prince Richard chuckled. "Not just a woman, your majesty. Kory has been trained by the Warlords of Okaara for years, and she is one of their very best."

Shaking his head, King Gordon admitted defeat. "If that is so, welcome among our ranks."

Giving her friend an infectuous grin that reminded him of the mischievous girl she once was, the young warrior asked, "So, what is your plan?"

"We confront them when they reach the middle of the Gothamworth-Blüdhaven passage. Since this passage is a narrow gorge with high cliffs on both sides, we can attack them from above with archers, and our warriors will be able to fight in a thin line," the Prince summarized their plan.

Walking over at the large-scale map of the area, Koriand'r studied the lay of the land, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Why attack them in the middle of the gorge?" she asked finally.

"Because our archers cannot cover more than half of it," the young mage replied instantly, his robes turning seven shades of red.

The implications of that statement silenced the warrior Princess for a short while. "Why not use commoners up there?" she then queried, pointing at the cliffs.

King Gordon managed to suppress a groan unbefitting of his status. Women and tactics simply did not mesh. "Because commoners are not archers. And we cannot train them in time for the battle."

Unabashed, the bonnie Princess smiled radiantly. "Of course not. But you could teach them to drop boulders down the cliffs, could you not? Or maybe burning logs? Bottles of vitriol?"

As King Gordon's eyes nearly popped out of his head, Prince Richard graced her with that smile that never failed to make her weak in the knees. "You never cease to amaze me, you know?"

Seeing that this young Lady knew how to plan a battle, the King of Gothamworth asked with wry humor, "Do you have any other suggestions?"

Composing her face so as to not grin from ear to ear, she replied evenly, "As a matter of fact, I do. First, as you expect the troops of the Emperor to march through the gorge, you can prepare a number of traps to hinder their progress and decimate their numbers. And, second, you should distribute at least one company to the archers and commoners on each cliff. The enemy might expect them to be there and send his cohorts after them first."

Almost smiling himself, the Dark Knight mumbled, "I think we should consider adapting our tactics to include the details the Princess mentioned." As King Gordon's long-time advisor, he knew to not ruffle his feathers any more. His self-confidence had taken enough bashing for one day.

THE ELVEN CAMP, NEAR THE BORDER OF DOMA

As was her habit, Queen Hippolyta held her council in the middle of a clearing. In attendance were Phillipus, Captain of Her Guard, Artemis, Captain of the Scouts and Skirmishers, Magala, Master of the Mages, Penelope, High Priestess, and Epione, Head of Healers. As informal as this gathering seemed to the unknowing, it was a stately affair, and no elf alive would dare interrupt the council of the Queen unless in a dire case of emergency.

Artemis was the first to speak up, which might seem uncostumary to humans, but was the way elves preferred to handle their affairs: Who had the greatest need to be heard spoke up first. Most importantly, although elves were notorious for speaking in ways meandering around the actual topic, they could come straight to the point, but only did so if directness was needed.

"My Queen, I got strange reports from my scouts. It seems that the border of Doma has been fortified and the guards are on their alert. What is most unusual, though, is that the fortifications have been strengthened at the border to Themyscira and not towards Metria. It seems they expect to battle us, not the troops of King Luthor." That said, Artemis gave a small nod, indicating she was done with her report.

Pondering this, Hippolyta put her worries into words. "I do not know what it means any more than you do, Artemis. Lord Tresstom, as my daughter's betrothed, is our ally as of yet. Still, this report troubles me greatly. Let us proceed with due caution, as we always..."

The ancient Queen's words were swallowed by the sound of powerful wings beating. Looking up, the assembled elves saw a wondrous sight: A woman with a bird mask over her face bearing a mace like a warrior. What was most amazing, though, was the fact that the woman was winged like the ancient and long-lost race of celestial elves.

As the elves grouped into a cluster surrounding their Queen, their swords drawn, the red-haired woman dropped down to the ground and bent her knee to the council, her mace laying in front of her feet.

Being overtaken by curiosity, the elves regarded her closely until their wise leader chose to address her, "You may rise."

Doing so, but leaving her mace to lie on the ground, the celestial elf looked at the leader of the group for a cue to speak. Seeing the slight nod prompting her, she took a deep breath. "Greetings, elves of the forest. I am Shayera, Scout of the ancient celestials. I come here as a harbinger of doom, for my people are on the warpath, joined with the forces of he who must not be named."

Phillipus interrupted their uninvited guest, "And why are you here? To tell us that we are being conquered?"

Sadly, Shayera shook her head. "No, I came to warn you. I do not agree with the course my superiors have taken, so I decided to leave my homeland and my kin, but not my honor behind."

"So why have you come here," Hippolyta asked, clearly confused.

Looking her straight in the eye, the winged warrior answered, "The elves are the closest to kin I still have, so I came to you first. But I am afraid that my mission will take me away again. Here is what I have to tell you: You are walking right into a trap. Doma has joined the forces with the people who were once my own."

As the implications of that statement sunk in, the faces of the elves fell, and Phillipus uttered a long and eloquent curse that earned her a glare from her Queen.

"Fighting Doma will deplete our resources," Artemis stated matter-of-factly, and her fellow elves nodded.

It was Penelope who added her thoughts. "We may not have to fight them at all," she began soberly. "In Doma, the faith of The One is strong."

"That's fine, but it does not help us," interjected Phillipus.

"Yes, it does," Penelope replied. "Described in their Holy Book is a Harbinger of The One, a creature that looks like a human with wings." As all eyes turned toward the celestial elf, the High priestess continued, "If we could disguise our newfound ally as a Messenger of The One, she could influence them to fight among themselves at least – and inspire them to join our forces at best."

Epione smiled broadly. "Trickery instead of bloodshed. I like your plan."

Hippolyta nodded. Turning towards the red-headed bird-elf, she queried, "Are you willing to undertake that task?"

Shayera nodded gravely. "I am. If you can tell me how to look like such a messenger."

Once again, Penelope took charge. "Well, we need you to have human features, and your wings need to be white, not brown. A white or golden robe would help, too." Looking at Magala, she queried, "Do you think you could put a halo around her form? Or mark her descent with the sound of fanfares?"

Magala's eyes sparkled. "I can do all that, and easily so. Although it would help if there was a face beneath the bird features," the Adept Mage replied half-jokingly.

Shayera was aghast. "I haven't removed my mask since I joined the military!" she protested.

Hippolyta almost chuckled. "Last thing I heard, you left the military."

Nodding in silent agreement, the celestial elf put her hands on her mask...

THE EMERALD MOUNTAINS

Having tied up the helpless heroes with the elven Princess' own lasso, the crone dispersed her illusionary elves and beasts with a simple "ESREPSID!" and waving hand to encompass the whole clearing. Unfortunately, the illusion on herself was removed as well, and the crone turned into a young woman with long, black tresses. Looking down at herself in disgust, she mumbled, "Should learn to be more specific." Turning back to her *captive* audience, the young woman demanded answers. "Who are you, and what is your business creeping around the woods?"

At once, everybody answered her, telling her nothing but the truth.

"Stop it! One after the other!" Pointing at Kal-el, she said, "You first!"

Being forced to stick to the truth, Kal-el told her, "I am Kal-el, the Last Son of Krypton. I am also..."

"Stop!" the sorceress screamed in frustration. "Can't you come up with a more believable story?"

Surprisingly, it was the she-elf who answered. "No, he can't. Nobody encircled by my golden lariat can lie. It is one of its powers."

Closing her eyes, Zatanna quickly confirmed the magical properties of the lasso. As she did so, her eyes burst open, and she pointed a hand at her captives. "EERF!" The lasso instantly gave them free as the sorceress almost squealed. "You are just the people I was looking for!"

CAPITAL OF DOMA

People all over the market place were looking up and pointing their fingers upwards. "Is it a bird?", they asked each other, but in the end, someone called out, "No, it is an angel!"

It was almost funny to watch from above as people literally dropped on their knees. Shayera swooped lower. Beating her mighty wings, she hovered several man-heights above the kneeling crowd. What was it that she was supposed to say? Something about fear and peace...

"Do not come in fear, for I cover in peace!" She declared, only belatedly realizing that she had messed it up. She only hoped the people down there were too awe-struck to actually notice.