Steel Maiden

by Kim Richardson

  “Welcome to the anniversary of the Day of Reckoning,” his voice boomed.

  “After the world had been devastated by war, the Temple of the Sun united the six kingdoms under one rule, and we have lived in peace for over three hundred years. We celebrate this day by inviting all the kingdoms to participate in the Great Race for the glory of the Heart of Arcania.”

  I glanced over at my competitors, to remind me again what I was up against. The fact that there were a handful of women cheered me somewhat, but they looked as fierce as the men. Some of them actually looked like men.

  “The rules are simple,” said the high priest.

  His smiled widened. “There are no rules.”

  Laughter erupted from the crowds and the guards, but the competitors sat straight-faced, as I did. I studied the other high priests. They watched their leader with stony faces.

  “The Creator be with you all,” said the high priest. “May the best man or woman win.”

  His eyes rested on me, and I stifled an icy shiver. But before I had time to gather my thoughts, he walked casually to the giant bronze gong and hit it with a great swing of his jeweled staff.

  Immediately, the sounds of hooves tore the ground like a great thunderstorm. The ground shook as the riders and their mounts galloped through the west gates.

  All except for me.

  Rattled, and with my face burning in humiliation, I took control of Torak’s reins and hit his sides with my legs. I could see the disappointment in the high priest’s face without looking.

  Torak galloped forward with a great bound, and I lost control of the reins. I pulled myself straight with the pommel, and as I fumbled with the reins Torak dashed towards the west gate.

  As we thundered out the west gate, I caught a glimpse of Brother Edgar standing next to the wall. He was smiling. A chill rippled down my back. I guess he assumed that this race would be my death sentence.

  I swallowed hard as I was thrown around on the horse’s back. I cursed into the wind and felt like a fool.

  The Great Race had begun, and I was last.

  CHAPTER 12

  I DISCOVERED VERY QUICKLY that riding did not come naturally to me.

  After the first few hours of riding, I had chafed my inner thighs against the saddle. And if it weren’t for my supernatural healing abilities, I probably wouldn’t have had any ass to sit on at all.

  I kept sliding off to the side of my saddle, cursing into the wind and pulling myself back up. At first my pride had been hurt. How many people had seen my disastrous beginning? I wondered if Landon had seen and had regretted helping me. I was truly the worst prepared competitor. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I got angry.

  I had been left behind and was breathing the others’ damn dust. It didn’t seem to bother Torak, but I couldn’t breathe without coughing up a lung. I made a temporary mask with my cloak in order to breathe, but the dust tapered off, and I could breathe again without it. I wiped my eyes and peered down the road before me.

  It was empty. The dust had disappeared and so had the other racers. They were gone.

  It wasn’t that Torak lacked speed; his strong, lean legs were like a great machine. But I had felt him slow down a few minutes into the race. I realized after a while that he was trying his best not to throw me off. He was trying to keep me on his back. I liked him immediately after that.

  I hadn’t seen any of the others for at least two hours now. I was already trailing behind.

  “Why did I have to steal that damn crown!”

  I had to believe that there was still a chance to save Rose and my village. I had never doubted for one second that the high priest would murder thousands of peasants, farmers, and children if I didn’t bring back that stone.

  Damn him. Damn the Temple of the Sun Empire. Damn them all to hell.

  I rode on with a heavy heart. How was I going to catch up now? Let alone win?

  Even though riding didn’t come easily for me, I figured every day would get a little better. I felt a little progress as we galloped on through Anglia. I thrust my body forward and tried to ride with the rhythms of horse. The wind in my face and my hair overwhelmed me with a feeling of freedom. I felt like a bird in flight. I felt the beast’s great power under me, and it became my power as we started to move as one.

  Torak’s thick, black mane flowed around my hands, and eventually I began to enjoy myself a little more and even to take in the scenery.

  In the beginning I’d passed tall stone buildings and cross streets, large villas and acres of beautiful manicured lands. I’d never ventured farther than Soul City, and I’d never thought I’d ever be going west. East was where I’d set my sights. East was where I wanted to start a new life with Rose.

  My chest tightened at the thought of something happening to Rose. Mad Jack had promised that he would care for her, that he would see to it that she had food and protection. He had obviously felt guilty about handing me over to the priests we hated.

  Did he think I’d forgive him? No. I didn’t think so. His betrayal still made me furious.

  Going west wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Anglia was beautiful country. And as time went on, the buildings decreased in size, lots became smaller, and the great stone buildings were replaced by smaller dwellings with colored roofs and smaller windows. They were still mansions compared to the thatched huts in the Pit. Even the worst areas of Anglia were characterized by beautiful homes and lavish gardens. The inequality made me furious.

  Passersby looked a little baffled as we galloped by, so far behind the rest of the pack.

  “You’re last!” a stupid fat man with no neck shouted. I couldn’t place his accent.

  “Thanks for the tip,” I yelled back, fuming. Like I didn’t know. I ignored the pig-like man as I passed him in a blur.

  Golden fields and farms with large ponds dominated the countryside for another few miles and then ended abruptly at the edge of a forest.

  Without breaking stride, we plunged into a stand of pine and spruce and hemlock trees. The road narrowed, and tall evergreen trees surrounded us on both sides. As soon as we entered the forest, the cool air brushed my face, and I was glad for it. The trees offered us welcome shade.

  Torak’s back was covered in sweat. He needed a well-deserved break. And I knew the other competitors would eventually need to rest their animals as well. It would be dark soon, and I wouldn’t chance breaking the horse’s legs in the dark. It wasn’t fair to him. The tall trees on all sides would most probably hide most of the light from the moon. It was stupid to travel at night, especially in a strange land.

  “Whoa, big guy,” I said and pulled gently on the reins.

  Torak slowed to a stop, and I swung my legs over and dismounted, grateful to be on solid ground once again. My thighs burned as I shook my legs and tried to get the blood flowing again. Although my legs felt like wood planks, I thought I’d be in worse condition than I was. My healing abilities were still effective.

  I straightened up and sighed.

  “Right. You need water. You’re thirsty aren’t you, Torak?”

  Torak watched me with big brown eyes. I thought I saw his eyes widen at the mention of water, so I took that as a yes.

  “I saw a creek next to the road. Come on. Let’s get you some water.”

  I took the reins and led Torak along the edge of the road where I’d spotted a creek and hoped I hadn’t dreamed it. I heard the sound of trickling water and eased Torak towards the sparkling creek. He went to the water and began drinking. After I had helped myself to some deliciously cold water, I figured this was a good time to have a look inside the large saddlebag. I moved next to Torak and peered inside.

  It was packed. I had dried meats, breads, cheese, a container of water, and apples. I even had spare clothes and undergarments. I pulled out an apple.

  Torak stopped drinking and turned his big eyes to the apple in my hand.

  I cut the apple in half with my hunting knife and fed Torak
one half. He gobbled it up and eyed the other piece hopefully.

  “Forget it,” I said, and sheathed my knife.

  “It’s not like we have a lot to go around. We need to share. You had your piece already, this one’s mine.”

  But as I watched him, tired and sweaty after all that running, I realized he deserved an entire apple tree. I gave him the other piece. “You’re welcome.”

  I laughed, glad of his silent company. Without the distractions of wicked priests and handsome men, I could figure out a plan to get me back into this race. I tied the reins around a branch from a pine tree, broke off a piece of bread, lifted a flap from the bag and pulled out the map. I didn’t like going into unknown territory. I needed to study the map.

  Maybe I could find a shortcut to Goth. With that idea in mind, I felt a new sense of hope and moved to a soft spot under a large pine tree. I sat down and unfolded the map on the soft pine needles. It was good quality parchment, and I was surprised to see how much care had been taken in the details. Only the temple could afford maps like this.

  Although I might have been poor, my mother had taught me to read, and it saddened me to think that most of the people in the Pit were illiterate. The priests preferred to keep their cattle in ignorance, the better to rule them.

  The map showed the boundaries of Anglia that bordered the West Sea. I stared at a small strip of land that connected Anglia to the small island of Goth to the west. Death’s Arm was written in bold black letters. It was the only way in or out of Goth.

  “Inviting,” I said. “It’s no wonder nobody wants to go there.”

  I moved my finger along the narrow passage into Goth and studied the many paths that led into Hollowmere. Even shortcuts and secret passageways were marked on this map. Had the priests been to the Hollowmere? It was obvious that whoever had conjured up this map had taken great care with the details.

  If my map was more detailed than the maps of the other racers, then it was clear that the high priest really did expect me to win. If he really had given me a special map and a strong horse, maybe I could win.

  I wondered about the golden cage. Was there a connection between the Anglian crown I had stolen and the golden cage? Why was the stone so important to the high priest? What would he gain from having it? The other competitors wanted to win to bring joy to their communities and experience the glory of victory, but what would the temple gain if I captured the stone? What was their true purpose? I would have to think about that later.

  As I studied the map, I remembered the handsome man with sparkling blues eyes who had made the gesture of helping me, even though I was a competitor. The memory of his warm mouth on the skin of my hand sent a jolt rippling through me. A man hadn’t had that effect on me for years…

  I was still haunted by Mad Jack’s apparent look of disappointment and anger at my conversation with Landon Battenberg. Why should he care if I’d enjoyed being treated like a lady by a handsome stranger?

  I realized the truth. This was a competition. Sooner or later we’d all face each other. We might have to fight or even kill to get to the stone. What if Landon was playing me? Could he have been charming his way into my heart so I wouldn’t see the blade of his sword until it was too late?

  I’d been seduced in less than a minute, my new record for stupidity. I’d let my feelings overwhelm me. It was with my brain I needed to race with, not my heart. My face burned with shame and humiliation. I swallowed my nausea. I was weak. But I wouldn’t be fooled twice. I wouldn’t let some pretty face deter me.

  Suddenly, I was all too aware of how dark it had become, as though the trees had purposely hidden the last of the sunlight from me. I could hardly see the map. It was getting late. There was no way I’d ride on in the dark. I needed to make camp.

  Torak seemed happy and rested. Perhaps with a good night’s sleep, we could ride hard at sunrise and catch up to the others. Yes. That was definitely a good plan.

  Feeling more optimistic, I folded up the map and stuffed it back into the bag. I picked out a small pot and, to my surprise, tea. Tea sounded like a dream.

  I went in search of kindling for a fire and threw a look back at my horse to make sure he hadn’t run off. He was still where I had tied him. Technically he wasn’t my horse, but he was mine for the duration of the race. I’d never had a pet before. It’s not like we could afford to feed a dog or a cat … or even a bird. This was as close to owning a pet as I’d ever come. I smiled.

  Tomorrow I’d catch up, maybe even lead, if the Creator were on my side.

  I had a small meal of dried meat and tea and settled on my back in the pine leaves. It only took a few seconds before my eyelids were so heavy that I couldn’t keep them open. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  I didn’t know how long I’d slept when the snapping of a branch woke me.

  I froze. My heart fell to my stomach. I jumped to my feet and went for my daggers. But it was already too late.

  A dark cloak swept past my eyes, metal rang, and a blade pierced my throat.

  CHAPTER 13

  WARM BLOOD WELLED INSIDE my throat. I gasped as the metallic liquid poured from the corners of my lips. I was choking on my own blood.

  I reached up, wrapped my fingers around something cold and hard, and pulled. I tossed the knife to the ground and instinctively covered the cut in my throat with my hand. The blade had struck deep. I felt the blood pump between my fingers, and I knew it had hit an artery.

  I spotted my assailant through my tears. Even in the dark there was no mistaking that it was a man. He wore a golden mask fashioned with the face of a skull, and he was covered from head to toe in a black cloak. He held two curved daggers, and his soulless dark eyes spied me from the holes in the mask.

  I hadn’t even arrived in Goth, and yet I stood before a demon, or a man disguised as one.

  My attacker watched me gurgle and choke on my own blood. He almost looked carefree. He watched me patiently, like he was waiting for something.

  “The priests are liars, and they can never possess the stone. You should never have agreed to this race,” he said. His heavy accent sounded Fransian.

  “I do not rejoice in the killing of a woman, but I will do what I must to protect the stone. We know what you are, and what you can do. You must die tonight before you murder us all.”

  His eyes showed a fierce resolve as he watched me.

  “For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood,” chanted the man. “But against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places. Demons creep in stealthily through all the avenues of the senses. Demons will lead men to falsehood.”

  I staggered as the world began spin. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him I had no idea what he was talking about, but my words died in mouthfuls of blood.

  “You might not die from the mere blade,” he said, and I saw the sneer on his lips from the bottom of the mask. “But the poison will kill you.”

  Poison. Did he say poison?

  I knew as soon as he said it that something was very different from when the high priest ran me through with his sword. Then it had stung, and I had felt the tearing of flesh, but it was a clean cut. This wound in my throat felt as though the skin around the puncture was peeling away and burning piece by piece, like salt on a wound. As my blood pumped, the pain spread all the way down and throughout my body. The blade had been tainted with poison.

  Whoever my attacker was, it was clear he knew more about me and what I could do than I did. But who had told him?

  “It’s for the best. It’s for the good of Arcania. With your death…millions will live.”

  My attacker was waiting to see the effect the poison would have on me. The twisted smile on his face showed me that he was enjoying watching me die.

  I wanted to spit in his face, to punch him, but the muscles in my face had stiffened as if I were wearing a solid mask. I felt the poison burning my fingers. My body was
becoming numb and my fingers stiff. My breathing came in rapid, wet breaths as my throat began to swell. I didn’t feel the healing magic I’d felt when I’d been stabbed before. Ingesting the poison was different. It was in my blood stream and spreading incredibly fast inside me.

  A cold shiver spread through my body as the fever settled in. Maybe this was it. Maybe I couldn’t heal from poison.

  “It’s Hemlock,” said the masked man as he prowled closer.

  “It causes paralysis of the various body systems. Paralysis of the respiratory system is the usual cause of death. You won’t be able to move, but you will be aware of what is happening. Your mind will be unaffected, until just before you die.”

  My legs felt like ice blocks, and I couldn’t move. I keeled over onto my back. The hot-white pain spread as the poison made its way through every inch of me. I couldn’t even cry out. It stung my face like the scratches of a cat. And then it dug through my ears and pounded in my head.

  Then the pain stopped altogether, and I felt cold with fear. I couldn’t even feel the blood that gushed out of my throat and mouth. With my hand clutched on my throat, I was frozen like a statue in one of the priest’s gardens.

  I was dying for real this time…

  A twig snapped, and the shadow loomed over me again. I stared into the sadistic, skull-masked face of my attacker.

  “Demons are always sent to test our faith, to trick the weak as false prophets.”

  His rough voice was nothing like the priest’s soft, melodic tones.

  “Many succumb to earthly pleasures instead of following our duty to the one true God.”

  He talked of the Creator, and yet he was no priest. I was being murdered by a religious fanatic.

  “Bless Arcania. Bless the one and true God. Deliver us from the evil of the world, from the corruption that is in the world through the devils; from the evil of every condition in the world; from the evil of death that is plaguing our world. Deliver us from ourselves, from our own evil hearts. Deliver us from evil men and false prophets, that they may not be a snare to us.”