Chapter One

Duel

Hippolyta's eyes were fixed on the bird as it flew over the treetops. Carefully she drew an arrow from the quiver that hung at her hip, but she didn't raise her bow.

"Are you going to shoot?" asked a puzzled voice at her side.

Hippolyta shook her head irritably, jabbing an elbow at her little sister to make her move away.

Antiope took a small step backward. "The bird will be past soon."

"It's a big plump partridge," Hippolyta whispered. "It doesn't fly that fast. Besides, they're usually in pairs. Like Amazons." Antiope giggled.

"Be quiet, little one," Hippolyta said, fitting the arrow into her bowstring. "I'm paired with you today because Mother insisted. So close your mouth and watch. It's the only way you'll learn anything."

There were a few moments of silence. Then Antiope asked again, "Shouldn't you be taking aim?"

Hippolyta lowered the bow and arrow, turned, and glared at her sister. "I was taking aim," she told Antiope. "One must aim with the eye, not the bow." Already she'd decided at the exact point she would fire. She'd fixed upon a spot directly ahead of the bird. But now, with Antiope's interruptions, the bird had disappeared, landing somewhere in the twisty undergrowth.

"Oh." The little girl was clearly disappointed. "It's gone."

"Never mind," Hippolyta began, then stopped speaking as the second bird took to the air.

In one quick movement Hippolyta lifted the bow, hauled back on the string, fired the arrow. The gray-brown bird flew straight into the arrow's path, and the sharpened bronze point thudded into its breast.

"By the moon!" Hippolyta gasped, for a second arrow struck the bird no more than the blink of an eye after the first. It tore through one of the outstretched wings and threw the partridge into a wild spin. The little bird plummeted to earth in a whirl of feathers right into a small copse of trees.

"What happened?" Antiope cried.

"Someone's trying to steal our dinner!" Hippolyta's eyes narrowed angrily. Slinging her bow over her shoulder and snatching up a spear from the ground where she'd jammed it point first, Hippolyta bounded toward the copse.

"Wait for me!" Antiope squealed, running after her sister and waving her own spear, which was so small it was scarcely more than a toy. But then she was only eight years old.

Like the other Amazons, Hippolyta had been trained as a huntress from early childhood, and she knew where to search for the fallen bird. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she raced through the undergrowth at full speed, heading toward the copse and into a small clearing. She was unpleasantly surprised to see another Amazon there before her, already tying a cord around the dead partridge's neck.

Molpadia!

No mistaking that thick tangle of yellow hair tied up in a cluster of tight braids. No mistaking that superior sneer.

"You're too slow, Hippolyta," Molpadia said. "The goddess of the hunt grants no second chances."

Molpadia was not much older than Hippolyta -- less than two years -- but already she wore the small square ear pendant that showed she'd killed a man in battle. Under her chin was a livid scar, a reminder of how close she'd come to dying in that same battle, when a Lycian charioteer had caught her with a stroke of his spear.

Hippolyta was tired of hearing the story. Molpadia told it at every festival. Still, earning an earbob was no excuse for taking another hunter's prize.

"You know the laws against theft," Hippolyta said, keeping her voice smooth. "It applies just as much here on the hunting grounds as it does back in Themiscyra."

"Can you deny you saw my arrow strike the bird?" Molpadia asked defiantly, lifting her chin so the scar seemed to grin.

"It was my shot that struck first. My shot that hit the breast. My shot that killed it." Hippolyta knew she could play the defiance game as well as the older girl.

"I was here first to claim the prize," Molpadia said.

Hippolyta gripped the spear in both hands, pointing the tip at Molpadia. "Claiming and keeping are two different things."

Molpadia let the partridge drop and raised her own spear. "Your mother may be one of our queens, Hippolyta, but that gives you no special status."

"I claim none," Hippolyta answered quickly, "only what is mine by right of my own arm."

"Then show me that arm," Molpadia cried, shaking off her bow and tossing aside the quiver.

It was an unmistakable call to duel. Hippolyta likewise took off bow and quiver and dropped her fur cap onto the ground. Then she began a low circle to her left.

Molpadia too began circling, and they each looked for an opening where they could strike.

Just then Antiope darted into the clearing, gasping.

Hippolyta heard her little sister but ignored everything but the older girl and the spear. Never having been in an actual battle, Hippolyta was at a slight disadvantage against Molpadia. But she'd never been wounded, either, and that gave her an edge. "Once slashed, twice shy," the Amazons said. Of course they said it of their enemies, not themselves.

Well, at this moment Molpadia was the enemy. Hippolyta stopped thinking and let the years of training take over.

She noticed a splash of crimson on the tip of Molpadia's spear. The blood of my partridge, she thought. But no, there was too much blood for such a small target.

Almost casually Hippolyta said, "Fighting already today?" She smiled and gestured with her head at the weapon. "They say the ones who fight too often are the ones who die too soon." Her battle teacher, Old Okyale, always said: "Cite laws at the foe, even if you make them up on the spot. It throws the enemy off guard."

Molpadia laughed. "I have the same teacher as you, Hippolyta. You won't catch me that way...