Steel Maiden

  Steel Maiden, Divided Realms Book 1:

  Copyright © 2015 by Kim Richardson

  Edited by Grenfell Featherstone

  www.kimrichardsonbooks.com

  All rights reserved by Kim Richardson. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the written permission of the author. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  First edition: August 2015

  Acknowledgments

  For those who dare to dream

  Map

  CONTENTS

  MAP

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  WITCH QUEEN COMING SOON!

  MORE BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  THE TEMPLE VAULT WAS completely dark.

  I’d been crouched inside a cabinet with my chin resting awkwardly on my knees for about six hours, and now the muscles in my body screamed and burned. Acid from hunger worked away in my empty stomach, and the air was hot and stale. A cold sweat trickled down my back, but I kept my breathing low and steady, held my position, and waited.

  I could hear muffled male voices and the shuffling of feet.

  Pricks.

  If the temple guards discovered me now, they would slit my throat before I could even begin to explain why I was here, hidden in a cupboard in the vault. The truth is there was only one reason why someone would sneak into the temple vault at night—to steal the high priests’ treasures.

  I bit my lip. This was by far the stupidest and most dangerous stunt I’d ever pulled. But hunger and desperation had brought me farther into Soul City than I’d ever ventured before. And now I’d been foolish enough to seek my quarry inside the vault. I knew the risks.

  We’d finished the last of the cabbage soup two days ago, and Byron hadn’t any bread to spare this week. I’d sworn last night that I wouldn’t spend another night with a hungry belly.

  A cramp bit into my leg, but I ignored it. Hiding in cubbyholes for long hours wasn’t new to me. I was used to small spaces. Thank the creator I wasn’t claustrophobic. My heart thumped loudly in my ears as my hunger was replaced by my anger.

  The high priests were the reason we were all starving. There were enough precious stones and jewels in the vault to feed the families in the Pit for generations, and yet we were all starving to death. It was clear that the priests wanted to keep us hungry. We were easier to control.

  Bastards.

  I remember the stories I had heard when I was a child. Three hundred years ago, after the Great War of the Realms, the Temple of the Sun priests had arrived. No one had known for sure where they came from, but the legends told that the kings and queens of the six kingdoms of Arcania had stepped down, one by one, and relinquished their rule to the high priests. Some legends spoke of a dark spell that had been cast on the kings and queens since they had so willingly given their titles and their kingdoms to the priests. But no one knew for sure.

  Not everyone was subject to the priests’ will, however, and a great rebellion against them had arisen two hundred years ago. Unfortunately attempts to remove the high priests had been in vain. Most of the men and women from the kingdom of Anglia who had joined the rebellion had been slaughtered like cattle by the temple guards.

  But the priests did keep some of the rebels alive. As punishment, and to remind those who might dare to oppose them again that their efforts would be futile, the priests created the Pit. They confined the rebels to the district of Anglia where the rebellion had started. Now ten thousand prisoners were cramped into a muddy, filthy shantytown where they were forced to live out their lives as trash. They would never forget that their ancestors had tried to rebel.

  There was a saying amongst our kind. If you’re born in the Pit, you die in the Pit.

  But I wouldn’t die here. I was going to get out.

  I couldn’t let my anger cloud my mind. I had a job to do, and I needed to focus. It was risky, but this was finally my chance to get out of the Pit, and I had to take it. I wouldn’t mess it up. I couldn’t.

  After a few minutes of careful listening, I heard the screeching of hinges and then the loud thump of a heavy door. I knew there were only two guards patrolling the vault, and I couldn’t risk them discovering me. Although I could hold my own in a fight, even with two grown men, I had to go unnoticed if I wanted my plan to work. That meant no fights.

  I had been blessed with a talent for hand-to-hand combat although I had never received any real training. My earliest memories were of throwing a set of knives against the trunk of a tree and hitting the makeshift target every time. I was adept with weapons, especially ones with a blade. I never knew where my skill came from, or why I had it, it just was. Rose called it a gift—I called it survival instinct.

  My heart thundered as I strained for any more sounds. Only the darkness of my cupboard whispered back. It was now or never.

  I held my breath and pressed lightly on the door. I peered through the small crack and blinked at the sudden brightness. A series of flaming torches illuminated the vault in soft yellow light.

  I was alone. I let out a shaky breath and then slipped into the vault with the stealth of a cat.

  My limbs ached and cracked as I stretched and moaned quietly. I took a calming breath, grateful for the gulps of fresh air, and looked around carefully. Bile burned my throat as I took in the shelves that lined the walls. They were loaded with brilliant gems and precious jewelry.

  Sick. All of it. The people from the Pit were starving while this useless chamber sat stuffed with enough jewels to feed a nation. It was probably just a fraction of the high priests’ wealth, and it was a wealth that had once belonged to our kings.

  One, two, three, I counted in my head. I only had about five minutes before the next rotation of the temple guards would check on the vault.

  I clenched my fingers as I stared at a large necklace speckled with rubies and sapphires. I could certainly fill my pockets with necklaces like these—they were practically begging for me to steal them. But that would be stupid. I couldn’t afford to be stupid. Not now when I was so close…

  Even if I did take my fill of precious stones and pearl necklaces, I wouldn’t be able to sell them. Women in the Pit didn’t own jewelry. Where would we wear it if we did? It would raise questions if I tried to sell it. I’d get caught if I were greedy.

  There was only one person in the Pit who would and could buy such trinkets, and he’d already made a deal with me. I wasn’t here for a mere necklace. I had bigger plans.

  I crossed the chamber to the opposite wall and stood before a tall
metal cabinet. Two lions, the royal seal of Anglia, were engraved into the metal. I couldn’t see any lock or device that secured the doors.

  A trap? Why wasn’t it locked?

  It felt too easy. A treasure of incredible valuable must have some kind of lock. Even if it were a trap, what choice did I have? I had committed to this, and I would see it through—for my sake and for Rose’s.

  With my heart in my throat, I pulled open the doors and stifled a gasp as a veil of green fire enveloped me and licked every inch of my exposed skin.

  I panicked and stepped back.

  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

  THE 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 lo
oked 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.