Steel Maiden (2 page)

The strange wall of green flames could only
be magic. What was magic fire doing in the high priests’ vault?
Priests saw magic as the devil’s work. It was forbidden in Arcania,
so why was it here? There was not supposed to be any magic on this
side of the world. The legends said that magic came from beyond the
mystic mountains in the east, from Witchdom. And yet it was right
here, in front of me.

I don’t know how long I stood there,
watching the green flames dance along the edges of the cabinet, but
in my moment of panic I had forgotten to count.

Damn, Elena.
I cursed to myself.
You can be such a fool sometimes
.

How many seconds had passed? Twenty? Thirty?
My cheeks burned at my own stupidity and how easily I had been
distracted.

I took a deep breath and braced myself.

“For a better life,” I whispered and stepped
into the veil of green fire.

I cringed, not knowing what to expect. The
flames tickled my skin and warmth spread on my face as though the
sun kissed my cheeks. But it didn’t burn, and surprisingly my skin
didn’t melt.

I couldn’t hear anything except the pounding
of my heart in my ears, but I could see my quarry through the
swaying green flame. It was a golden crown set with gems, and it
featured two golden lions facing a large red diamond. It was
probably the high priests’ most valued treasure, and they had gone
to the trouble of conjuring magic fire to protect it. It was the
crown of the last king of Anglia, and it had been stolen three
hundred years ago by the priests of the Temple of the Sun Empire.
They had taken it just as they had taken everything else.

Heat flushed my face as my hatred for the
priests mixed with the heat of the flames. Many babies had died of
the fever last winter, but no healers had been sent to our aid.
With all this wealth they could easily have sent healers. But they
hadn’t. We didn’t matter. And it wasn’t just the priests, even the
nobles and the lords of Anglia pretended we didn’t exist.

Although diamonds and precious stone
necklaces, rings, bracelets and encrusted weapons hung on the walls
of the vault, I knew they were nothing compared to the value of
this crown.
This
crown was my ticket out of the Pit.
This
crown would give me a new life.

The crown sat on a plush red cushion, daring
me to take it. The thought of Mad Jack’s face when I handed him the
crown made me smile. I was almost giddy. I had told him I could do
it, but he had laughed in my face. And now freedom stared
me
in the face. It was almost too easy.

And he said it was impossible.

Carefully, I picked up the crown, wrapped it
in a cloth, and dropped it into the pouch around my belt. I didn’t
have time to admire it. I knew my five minutes were nearly up. I
had to leave now.

As I turned to leave, my vision blurred for
a second, and the green fire began to burn my lungs. Smoke coiled
from my black wool cloak like a mist, and the smell of burned hair
filled my nose. I fought against the dizzy spell that shook my
knees. If I passed out now, I’d either burn to ash, or the temple
guards would feast on me. The thought was enough to shake me out of
my stupor.

I pulled my hood over my head, spun around,
leaped out of the flames, and bolted. I was at the vault’s door in
a few great bounds.

As I reached for the handle I looked back at
all those gleaming diamonds and pearls. It was the richest sight
I’d ever beheld. Part of me wanted to reach out and fill my pockets
with treasure for the others in the Pit, especially for the little
ones, to fill their aching bellies. But I knew it was too risky. I
couldn’t chance anything going wrong when I was so close.

The only thing left for me to do was to
run.

CHAPTER 2

T
HE RISING SUN WAS a glowing yellow
disk by the time I exited the vault. My knees shook and my stomach
twisted in hunger and excitement. I was exhausted from the lack of
sleep, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t felt before, and it was
worth it. The thought of starting a new life sent a jolt of
adrenaline through my veins and pushed me forward.

Luck was with me today. The temple guards
didn’t even notice me slip through the front vault doors and into
the safety of nearby shrubbery. The world was overflowing in hues
of yellows and orange as though the sky itself was painted in
liquid gold. The warm light of the rising sun announced the coming
of a new day, the beginning of my new life.

I didn’t have time to marvel at the great
stone buildings with their manicured lawns or the blooming flowers
that draped their balconies. Soon the next rotation of the temple
guards would arrive, and Soul City would wake up. I had to get out
now.

Dizzy from hunger, I rushed towards the
southwest wall of the city. Voices rustled across the clearing, and
I kneeled behind a large bougainvillea with my dagger in my hand. I
peered through the leaves, and my breath caught.

Two temple guards stood at the gate. The
gaudy yellow Temple of the Sun emblem stood out against their black
uniforms. From their relaxed disposition, the slump in their
shoulders, and their laughing voices, they hadn’t heard me. Twenty
feet to their left was my escape—a split in the stone wall.

My blood turned to ice as my throat went
dry. The fear that pulsed through me turned to anger. I hadn’t come
this far only to be caught by these damn fools. But I didn’t have
the cover of darkness to cloak me anymore; I only had my wits and
my stealth. It
had
to be enough. I wasn’t sure if I believed
in a higher power, but still I prayed to the Creator.

Keep me safe. Keep me hidden. Please don’t
let them see me.

If I made a wrong move, my life wouldn’t be
the only one lost. I couldn’t let that happen.

A guard put a flask to his lips and drank
his fill, then handed it to the other guard. I gripped my lucky
dagger, an Espanian blade I had won in a fight, and ignoring the
trembling in my fingers I held my breath and ran.

I ran wildly, second-guessing myself with
every desperate stride. My thighs burned as I neared the wall, and
my heart battered painfully against my chest. I winced as my feet
crunched on the gravel. The sound was like thunder in the still of
dawn. For a second I feared that I had been discovered, but the
guards hadn’t moved, and their attention was still locked on their
drink.

I slipped through the small fissure in the
stone, and the cold, sharp rock cut my skin. But I ignored it and
pulled myself out to the other side. Once my footing was secure on
the soft grass, I let out my breath. But I didn’t stop. I rocketed
over the grounds outside the wall, still propelled by the fear of
being discovered. Although I was running without food or rest, I
felt like I was flying.

The Anglian crown hit my hip as I ran down
the small rise, as though it was trying to tell me to put it back.
But it was too late. There was no turning back now.

Even before I saw the Pit, the smell of
unwashed bodies, vomit, piss and desperation hit me like a slap in
the face. And yet, I couldn’t help but smile. No one in the Pit
smiled very often, but I met this early morning with a hop in my
step and a smile.

I slowed my run to a walk. My throat burned
as I took in the ramshackle scenery of home.

The Pit.

I walked through the muddy streets, and the
toxic, dank air pressed heavily around me. I never did get used to
the smell. It choked me like tight invisible hands that squeezed
the air out of my lungs to keep me from leaving. It was a constant
reminder that I was a prisoner, that this was really a giant
prison, and that I would eventually die here.

Those who are born in the Pit, die in the
Pit.

Damn them all. Damn this place.

I had always looked for a way to escape. I
wouldn’t let the Pit’s icy hands keep me under for much longer.
Today was my lucky day. I could feel it.

Most of the buildings were made of the wood
and scrap metal that Soul City had discarded. We used their garbage
to build our homes. Most of them were little more than huts with
mud-thatched roofs. We used anything we could get our hands on. We
built our homes with trash because we were trash.

Soft yellow lights spilled through some of
the makeshift holes in the walls that we used for windows. It was
always dark and damp, and lighting was necessary even during
daylight hours. The layout of the village was haphazard, and
the houses were skinny and wretched, like me.

A crumpled lump lay in a dark and narrow
alley surrounded by vomit and waste. He moaned stupidly as I
carefully walked around his vomit. I covered my mouth as the bile
rose in my throat. I ventured deeper into the village and passed
the night owls on their way home from the underground taverns and
rundown inns of Bleak Town. This part of the Pit was a breeding
ground for crime, drug addiction, alcoholism, and
prostitution.

I kept my head low and my hood up as I
passed through Bleak Town. I held my bag securely and quickened my
pace. Finally I trudged up the path to a small camp with rotten
wood planks and a crooked tin roof. I stepped up to the front and
opened the wooden door as quietly as I could.

“Where have you been?”

I froze mid-step in the doorway.

Rose jumped from her chair surprisingly
quickly for someone her age.

“I’ve been worried sick. I haven’t slept a
wink. You never came home after the curfew…I thought…I thought the
priests had taken you.”

Her concern had become too common in recent
weeks. Her eyes automatically went to the small area carpet with
the trap door underneath.

“They didn’t,” I said finally, a little more
harshly than I had anticipated, and I immediately felt my cheeks
burn with guilt.

Her lack of faith in my abilities was
getting to me. I knew she loved me like a daughter and that her
worries were out of kindness. She had devoted her life to keeping
me safe, and the guilt I felt at her sacrifices was taking its toll
on me. The only way I could ever pay her back for everything would
be to rescue her from the nightmare of the Pit and to give her the
real home she deserved.

Her face was paler than usual, her skin too
thin and pulled tightly around her cheekbones. The dark circles
under her eyes stood out even though the light of the cottage was
dim. Wisps of gray hair fell around her thin face from her chignon,
and her brown linen dress hung loosely on her skinny frame. She
looked years older than she actually was. The Pit had done this to
her. She should have been plump with rosy cheeks, not skin and
bones.

I had hoped for the smell of food or even
bread to calm my aching stomach, and I did my best to hide my
disappointment. Rose had taught me to stitch and sew years ago, but
even between the two of us, there wasn’t much work for seamstresses
in the Pit, and there was even less coin. For a woman in the Pit
there was no real trade except for farming if you were one of the
lucky ones with land. Otherwise it was sewing or prostitution. And
that was only if you escaped the clutches of the priests.

Our entire cottage comprised of a single
room. We had a kitchenette with a small round dining table, and two
beat-up chairs were angled next to the hearth. We shared the small
cot tucked in the corner near the hearth. The only thing of value
in our cottage was the small bookcase that contained Rose’s
collection of history books, atlases, and three books of children’s
fairy tales. Books were a rare commodity in the Pit, but if you
could find them they were worth every coin. Any price was worth the
sight of Rose’s face lighting up when she held a new book. I traded
for them every chance I got, and now we had a pretty impressive
collection.

“I don’t know what I would have done if
they’d taken you—” Rose wheezed in a fit of coughing.

I rushed over and handed her a cup of cold
tea.

“Here,” I said and brought the cup to her
lips. She took a sip and sat back down. I frowned at the state of
her.

“Your cold isn’t getting better. We need a
healer.”

“Healers only come if you have the coin to
give them.”

A shadow passed in front of Rose’s brown
eyes. They used to be so full of light, but now they were dull, and
it frightened me.

I swallowed hard. “I told you to rest. Why
didn’t you listen to me?”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “And
I
told
you to stay out of trouble.” She took another sip of her cold tea.
“You’re just as stubborn as your mother. Hardheaded mules, the both
of you. Never listening to reason.”

I knew she was trying to scold me, but I
took it as a compliment.

“I’m a grown woman, Rose. Stop treating me
like a child.”