The Emerald Mountains
The group of weary travelers decided to pause and take a rest. Lois was clearly in no state to continue further. And they could get to Bludhaven all that faster if they were fresh in mind, body and soul. Accordingly, they decided to use simple sleeping pallets this night rather than pitch tents, so that they could be up and about, on their way at first light.
The watch was divided. Walter took the first watch. The ladies settled down into their blankets and were soon fast asleep.
Run, Lois, run!
Frigid air tore at Lois' hair and whistled past her ears as she silently spurred her mount onward through the bare trees and snow-crusted ground. The poor mare was straggling; gasping for air as she gamely plunged forward through the scraggly thicket of yew and pine. Hot air plumed from the horse's nostrils and her hooves tore into the hard, icy earth, but her shaggy coat was covered in sweat and despite all of Lois's prayers, the beast was losing ground.
Soon the hunters would be upon her. King Alexander's personal bodyguard, dressed in green and black. Intent upon seeing their own twisted justice meted out upon her, they chased her with a wrathful, vengeful fire that no amount of reason or persuasion could dampen.
"Faster!" Lois leaned over her mare's shoulders, hearing the poor horse labor, its breath whistling. Strong equine muscles began to flag. Her mission was surely lost. Nightfall was too far off. Even then, beneath the shroud of night, the hunters would track her, follow her, and run her to the ground. There was no darkness deep enough to hide her.
"Give me strength. Lay your hands upon my mare," Lois prayed as icy fingers of wind snarled her hair. Up ahead she caught a glimpse of another horseman darting through the frigid undergrowth. The dark riders were everywhere.
Even as she tugged on the reins and veered west, toward the mountains, she knew with a sinking heart that she was trapped. There would be no turning back, no circling around. The five horsemen had fanned out through the bare trees, cutting off all chance of escape, all roads returning her to safety.
Frantic, she pulled on the reins, guiding the mare to a narrow twisting path that climbed upward, through the lower hillocks toward a ridge. The territory was new. Foreign. Forbidden. But she had no other choice. She heard their shouts. Terror cut like shards of ice through her heart.
Her horse struggled, her hooves slipping, her flanks quivering, foam beginning to spot her gray, wet coat. "Please ... you can do it."
Upward, ever more slowly, the beast ran on as snow began to fall, and Lois felt a sharp cramp. She glanced down at her skirts, bundled high, and noticed the warm ooze of blood that dripped down her leg and splattered to the ground, bright red upon the frozen snow.
Her heart plummeted.
Not only would the blood leave a perfect trail it would also strengthen the hunters' purpose.
"God's teeth," she said, placing the reins in her mouth and trying vainly to staunch the flow. From the corner of her eye she saw movement, black-robed figures upon fleet steeds climbing the ridge, flashing past a thicket of spindly trees. By the saints, they were upon her!
And all the while drops of blood spotted the ground, caught by the wind. Somehow she had to stop this madness.
At the top of the ridge, she spurred her horse onward and the mare, finding footing, took off, cutting along a narrow deer trail. Heart pounding, skirts billowing, Lois thought for a second that she would prevail, that her sure-footed mare, which was more than a match for their bulkier stallions, would scramble easily up this narrow mountain spine.
"Good girl," she whispered, barely believing her luck.
She prayed that the mountain would slow their steeds. If not, if they caught her, at least the dagger was safe; she had seen to that. A weapon possessed of great magic, the Sacred Dagger was destined to be in the hands of the companion of the Chosen One, as the age-old prophecy prescribed:
Sired by Courage,
Born of Light,
Protected by the Sacred Dagger,
A ruler of men, compassionate and kind,
Champion of freedom and all that is right,
By the sign of the pentagon,
Shall the last son of Krypton
Free the Cup of Ages
And soothe war's rages
As he alone can claim a hero's heart.
The dagger could not fall into the hands of men with hearts of darkness, men like those who pursued her now. Should that happen, First Earth was lost and the Last Son of Krypton might never overcome the magic of Darkseid. Indeed, within the Sacred Dagger was the spirit of the Kryptonian mage Im-Fanci. Lois had been entrusted with the Sacred Dagger by the elders of Guildhall at the time that she and Kal-El were courting. Then Kal-El had been banished. Lois had never had a chance to return it to the Elders, the world which she had known had changed so fast and so suddenly.
Suddenly her horse shied and stumbled. Lois's heart clenched.
At the crest of this hill, the trail split as neatly as a snake's tongue and, if she was far enough ahead, she might be able to tear off a bit of bloody clothing to lead her pursuers on the wrong course. She glanced over her shoulder and saw no one, none of the dark horsemen following.
Had she lost them? Nay.
They would not give up. Their purpose was too strong. She dug her heels into the gasping gray's sides and wound through the trees. Blood sang through her veins when she caught sight of the fork in the path, one trail leading downward toward the village and river, the other following the backbone of these sheer mountains. Surely those behind her would expect her to take the lower path to Metria.
Lois fell forward, nearly toppling over her horse's bowed neck. Bristly, black hairs from the mane stung her eyes and blinded her for a heartbeat. As the horse regained her footing and Lois's eyes focused again, she saw him: a single dark predator upon a white steed. His head was covered with a black cloak and cowl, only the armor was visible in the darkness, but she felt his eyes upon her, sensed his hideous intent.
She tried to pull her horse around, but it was too late. The others had closed in and she was trapped upon her panting mare. Doom, it seemed, had found her.
"There is no escape for traitors," stated the Warlock bluntly, blocking her path.
"I am no traitor."
"Are you not?" His dark eyes were slits deep in his cowl as he pointed a long, accusatory finger at the ground, where blood stained the ground. "Proof of your perfidy, Lois, descendant of Samuel," he said. "Of your betrayal and thievery... You are a criminal and an untrustworthy woman."
She felt the other horsemen drawing closer, circling her tightly, and for a second she felt as if she couldn't breathe. The mare beneath her quivered and Lois laid a calming hand upon the frightened horse's shoulder. Was there no way out? Could she force her little mare to break through this ring of soulless men? She turned her thoughts inward, to the strength that lay deep in the marrow of her bones, the faith and courage that had brought her this far. There are ways to defeat these monsters, means not physical, forces you have only to call upon.
As if he read her thoughts, the leader snagged the reins from her hands and dropped to the ground. "Dismount," he ordered.
When she hesitated, he nodded to one of the others. A large hooded man with shoulders as broad as a woodcutter's ax hopped lithely off his bay, his boots hitting hard against the frozen terrain. Though she held on fiercely to the pommel of her saddle, it was no use. The big brute of a man dragged her from her horse and pinned her arms roughly behind her back, causing her shoulders to scream in pain. She felt the blood drain from her face but didn't cry out, determined to confront the fury of these lying thugs with a fire of her own.
The leader was the worst of them all - an abomination to all mankind.
He was known as Dessad, and his cloak was but a disguise to hide the legacy of evil that was his portfolio as his Lord's Leader of Parademons.
Aye, Lois knew this man who posed as her husband's friend. Had he not tried to bed her? Even threatened her when she'd refused him? But she'd seen the eerie light in his eyes. She could smell the smoky darkness of his soul. She sensed the yawning abyss of hatred that threatened to devour all light from the sky. She'd known what he really wanted, and she could not let it fall into his hands, even if she died protecting it.
"Hypocritical spawn of Darkseid," she whispered defiantly, "Go back to Apokolips, the Hell that you came from. May you never see the light of First Earth again!"
He froze, thunderstruck.
"Silence!" Dessad ordered.
"I know you," she whispered, holding his gaze. Even as he accused her of practicing the treason, he, too, was familiar with the old ways. Evil was apparent in the eerie, ethereal glow within his brown eyes - the wild, determined eyes of a man who had not seen age.
For an instant he hesitated. Taking advantage of his hesitation, Lois continued the lie,
"I know how to find the Last Son of Krypton, Dessad. Harm me now and you will forever look over your shoulder, chased by your own fear and his vengeance."
As if to add credence to her words, lightning split the sky. The forest trembled.
"Aaaaaah," one of the troops groaned nervously.
But the Dessad would not back down. Alexander Luthor had given him permission to scare Queen Lois into revealing where the Sacred Dagger was. Luthor needed the knowledge of Im-Fanci, who resided in the Dagger to read the Kryptonian parchment that he had.
Through lips that barely moved, Desaad hissed, "You, Lois of Metria, daughter of Samuel, wife to Luthor, are an adulteress as well as a traitor. The only way to save yourself is to tell me where you've hidden the dagger."
She didn't respond, though in her mind she caught an image of a wicked little knife covered in jewels, a wicked little knife that responded to the name Fanci.
"You know where it is," Dessad accused, leaning closer. She saw it then, the gleam in his eye.
Lois gasped and woke suddenly...her dream was an exact recollection of the events that had led her to finally leave her husband Luthor. She had been lucky that the knights John and Walter and the strange one called Patrick O'Brien had walked into her chambers. She was even luckier that she could prevail upon them to help her escape. In her jealousy at seeing Kal and Diana together and the bond they shared, she had forgotten all about the Sacred Dagger.
But now it was all clear - how she could make it up to Kal-El, even if his love was lost to her, at least he might view her with affection. All she had to do was tell him about the Sacred Dagger, the Kryptonian mage Im-Fanci and the place where she had hidden it. Kal-El would fulfill the prophecy, and find the Cup of Ages. Then he would liberate First Earth from Darkseid and Luthor and the other Warlords and take his rightful place as Leader. A grateful Kal-El might even invite Lois to rule by his side. And, as for the Elven Princess, she would fulfill her role and return to Themyscira where she could live her life in peace.
Now, if only Lois could remember the coordinates of where she had hidden the Sacred Dagger, she could hand it over to Kal, who could give it in honor to his companion and right hand in the battles to come and thus, fulfill the prophecy of the Sacred Dagger.
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Gothamworth Castle
James looked around furtively. He had not yet had a chance to practice some spells and he certainly did not want Lord Bruce to catch him. The last time Lord Bruce had caught James, he had surely shortened James's life by a few years. James thought back to that time. He had just about found something that referred to the Cup of Ages, a Latin prophecy. The Dark Knight had told him not to mention the book or the prophecy to anyone, but James felt that he must take a quick look once again. What if there was something there that could help them win the coming battles?
As he reached within his tunic and drew out the bag that he carried, the bottomless bag, his thoughts ran to the scene with the handsome Prince Richard and his to-be-bride - Kory. How happy they had looked together. How wonderful it was that Prince Richard could now marry his true love. No doubt, the Prince would have done the honorable thing and married Princess Barbara for the sake of York and the political alliances that the marriage would bring, but James was a romantic at heart. He truly, truly wanted nothing more than to believe in the power of love. Prince Richard had very properly mourned the death of his young fiancée who had been brutally murdered by the Warlords, which was how the Dark Knight had been injured. James recalled how terrified he had been of the Dark Knight then, trying to get Kal and the Princess Diana to move away from Lord Bruce. He winced, it was a good thing neither had listened to him or rather the Lady Diana had got her own way. Thinking of Kal and Diana, he mused, now there was a couple who could bind their hearts and lives together. James had caught them stealing looks at each other, when they thought no one was looking, and had picked up the tension between them whenever they were together in the area. But James had kept his observations to himself. Still, he hoped that there was some way for the two to be together.
Now, James opened the Book in which he had seen the reference to the Cup of Ages and looked for the ancient verse, the one that had to do with a hero's heart. As he turned the pages quickly, keeping an eye open for the Dark Knight, James searched for the reference he sought. But when he came to the page in the book, it had changed - the words that he had read had been erased and new ones had taken their place. It was indeed deep magic, of a sort that James hoped to wield one day. For now, he was content just to read the new words.
Turning his gaze to the page in the book, he read with growing excitement, "Amidst the chaos, a prophecy has begun to unfold: A hero will rise, not of First Earth, yet courageous, wise and bold. Seek ye then, the hero's heart - of truth, of hope and of love, bright and constant as the sun from above."
The words could only mean that the battle was nigh, and a hero would emerge to help all to win, James thought excitedly. He tried to recall the other verse that had magically vanished.
He closed his eyes and recited aloud, ""When the last son of Krypton knows his true birth…"
"then shall the hero's heart save First Earth," continued the harsh voice of Lord Bruce who placed a heavy hand on James shoulder.
James yelped in dismay and jumped up, trying desperately to hide the book. But Lord Bruce was not to be fooled. Glowering at James, he easily picked the book from him and snarled, "Well, lad, what makes you open this to me? Have you not yet realized it has deep magic? Did we not make a pact not to speak of it?"
It was now or never thought James, who took a deep breath and quickly related the strange the new verse's appearance to Lord Bruce. The Dark Knight's countenance changed. Just to make sure, he read the new verse himself.
"Ah, lad, well done. That's a clear sign to us that we are now within sight of victory. That means the prophecy has begun to unfold."
There was also a short description of a strange object, called a Sacred Dagger, and the story behind the Dagger. The hero was the Last Son of Krypton. To protect the hero and arm him with the knowledge and skills that he would require, the Council of Krypton had extracted the spirit and wisdom of their mage - Im-Fanci and gently blended it with Kryptonite - an elemental metal that had the unique ability to protect any Kryptonian anywhere, magically. The metal could sense a Kryptonian in the area and turn a different color, responding to the environment around the Kryptonian. When the Kryptonian was in danger, the metal turned green. The hero would be much helped by the Sacred Dagger.
But where would they find this Dagger? The book had a picture of the Dagger, it was a wicked looking ornate object, covered in jewels and looked very old. Both Lord Bruce and James studied the picture intently, intending to identify it at once, should they ever come across it.
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On the outskirts of Doma, Amazon camp.
“Pssst, are you listening, you dense man?”
Though the voice sounded very female, very disgruntled, it was quite clear. But it startled Patrick O’Brien. He looked around desperately for this voice that seemed determined to hound him.
It came again, louder still, “You’re the one they call Patrick, but in my book, you’re a cad and thief!”
Annoyed, Patrick jumped up. He looked again and again, all around.
“Oh, look lower down, you fool!” This time the voice was louder still. Patrick looked down and almost yelled, the dagger at his belt had turned pink. Vivid pink – the pink of James clothes when first they met.
Patrick looked harder still, it was the dagger named Fanci. The one that he had found when he had hidden within a tree, away from the soldiers of the law. The one that he had taken a fancy to and quickly pocketed, realizing its value, once he saw the name in golden letters on the hilt.
Fanci was talking to him?!?!
He tried to concentrate on the words that the dagger was saying, “…you do it. I have been unable to say anything so far because it took so long for Kal-El to learn of his birthright. But now I am released from the silence and can speak…You must hand me over to Kal-El, now. I have to tell him something very important.”
