Steel Maiden (25 page)

The evil looks in my opponents’ eyes said it
all. They were all waiting for the outcome of this encounter before
making their move. Somebody would challenge whoever came out with
the stone.

“Give me the stone. It’s
mine
.”

I turned on the warrior princess. “Back off,
bitch. I won the stone fair and square.”

Her cocky smile infuriated me.

“Or is it bastard? Quite frankly, I’m not so
sure myself. I mean, look at you? Are you a woman or a man?”

Princess Isabella’s expression hardened. She
was livid and appeared even more threatening than her brutish
company. I needed her to be a little unbalanced if I wanted to beat
her and save myself.

But before I could rejoice in my cleverness
at having surprised her with my lack of deference to her, her black
eyes filled with delight, and she crouched in a defensive stance.
She would not be distracted with anger. She was smarter than I
thought.

“You must have a death wish, peasant wench.
You dare to challenge me! I can kill you with my eyes closed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Probably. But you’re
not getting the stone.”

“Then you will die.”

The princess’ voice was steady in her
confidence that she was going to kill me.

She waved her sword. The tip was still
dripping with my blood.

“I am a princess! You are nothing but a
peasant. The stone belongs to me!”

My blood ran cold, but I kept my composure.
I could feel the nasty welt on the right side of my face beginning
to fester. Although my clothes were torn, and I favored my left
leg, the look of scorn on the princess’ face caused my fury to
grow.

The stone pulsed at my waist, growing warmer
and steadier, mimicking the beating of my own heart. I don’t know
why, but I felt as though it was trying to communicate with me.

“You can’t wield the stone. You will die,” I
said. “You saw what happened to dear Otto. If you touch the stone
you will suffer the same fate.”

She smiled wickedly at me. “You didn’t die,
and neither will I. Perhaps the stone needs a woman’s touch.
Perhaps only a woman can yield it.”

Many of the men from the different realms
muttered their disagreement and glared at the princess.

Princess Isabella pointed her sword at me.
“I’ll take my chances. The stone will recognize me as its true
bearer.”

My logic screamed at me to run and take my
chances in the wild land of Goth. But something else possessed me
and commanded me to stay and fight.

“Kill her! And take the stone!” said one of
the brutish men from the princess’ company.

“Why should Espan have the stone?” growled
an even bigger red-bearded man who wore the orange and yellow
colors of Romila. “The stone belongs to Romila!”

“It belongs to Espan!”

“To Girmania!”

“You fools. The stone is meant for
Fransia!”

I didn’t see who charged first, but the
clans’ greed for the stone escalated into a full-fledged war, and
for a moment we were forgotten.

“My patience has run out, priest whore,”
growled the princess.

My attention snapped back to her. Her voice
rose as the muscles in her neck throbbed.

“The stone is mine!”

She charged like a wild beast and hurled her
sword at me like a spear. I barely had time to duck as the massive
weapon nicked my left side and buried itself in the earth near my
feet. I threw myself on the ground and rolled back onto my feet.
Something else slammed into me, and I pitched headlong to the
ground.

I cried out in pain as cold metal sank into
my shoulder. I grabbed the sword and managed to pull myself free
and slither out of the princess’ way. Blood poured freely from my
deep wound, but I struggled to my feet.

I covered the wound with my hand to prevent
anyone from seeing the streams of yellow light. But my cloak and
tunic hid my secret for now. Although the pain flamed in my
shoulder, I felt the warmth of my healing power as it stitched up
my sliced flesh, eased my pain, and gave me new strength.

I shifted my weight and balanced on the
balls of my feet.

“Give up?” taunted the princess.

“Never,” I growled. I held my sword in a
fighting stance and waited.

The princess gave me a bloodthirsty grin.
“We are going to play a game, you and I.”

“Is that so?” I mocked. “And here I thought
you wanted to kill me.”

She smiled. “And you’ve already lost.”

The princess charged.

I spun and dove to avoid the impact of her
attack. As I rolled back onto my feet, her fist connected with my
cheek. I fought a sharp wave of nausea, and without giving the
princess time to react, I kicked my foot into her jaw. Then I
twirled and kicked my other foot into her lower back.

The princess staggered, but hardly looked
injured. She spit some blood from her mouth, and smiled. Her teeth
were smeared with blood.

“I’m going to rip out your heart and—”

The last of her words died in her throat as
a sharp silver sword from the back of her head emerged through her
mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she toppled like a
great dead tree.

The great red-bearded Romilian brute behind
her withdrew his sword from the princess’ head and growled at me
like a bear.

“The stone is mine! Mine! Mine!”

His small eyes narrowed as a dark grin grew
on his face.

I stood on the tips of my toes, balancing my
sword in my hand.

“Give it to me!” He lunged faster than I
would have thought a man his size could move.

I raised my arm to parry the thrust, but the
brute’s violent strength nearly shattered my wrist. Miraculously I
managed to hold on to my sword.

My attacker howled and sprang again. I
dodged backwards and then ducked as his sword brushed the top of my
hair. A few more inches and I would have been decapitated.

I could hear the sound of battle all around
me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off my attacker for one second.

I could never beat him with strength. I
needed to outwit him.

As he came at me again, I rolled to the side
and countered with two short jabs into his stomach. I raised my
sword up and was about to swing it in an arc at his head, but in
that split second before I swung, I could feel the life flowing
from him. His guts suddenly spilled out onto the ground at his
feet. He babbled unintelligently and then collapsed in a heap.

The violence disturbed me, but it also
unleashed a fearless and unyielding ferocity from inside me.

I felt another presence behind me, but it
was already too late.

I whirled around just as a sword rammed
straight through my chest.

I staggered back as my assailant pulled out
the sword in one rapid motion. Blood poured down my front, and I
looked up into my assailant’s face.

Philippe
Touraine,
the Duke of
Fransia, looked jubilant.

“
La
pierre est à moi!
Donne-moi la pierre!”

M
adness cast a
dark shadow over his face as he reached for the stone in my pouch.
But then a light shone on him, and he faltered. The blood left his
face.

He stared at my shredded tunic. My chest was
exposed, and golden light spilled out of me like the rays of
morning sunshine.

CHAPTER 26

E
VERYONE AROUND ME GASPED at the
spectacle of golden light shining out from the wound in my chest.
My secret was out.

The Fransian duke pointed a finger at me,
all the while taking careful steps back. Spit flew from his mouth
as he cried, “Witch! She’s a witch!”

“I saw it,” a woman from Romila affirmed.
“The sword went right through her. She should be dead, and yet she
lives like nothing happened.”

“Demon!”

“Accursed!”

“Burn the witch!”

Damn. Things were not looking good. It was
clear that most of them wanted me dead. And yet no one came at me.
While they made menacing noises and gestures, it was fear I saw on
their faces. Some individuals spat on the floor, and I saw a few
men make the sign of the Creator and mumble prayers under their
breaths.

I searched for Mad Jack, but he wasn’t
there. I felt my stomach contract. Maybe he’d been killed. And when
I finally saw Prince Landon, I saw confusion, terror, fear, and
then revulsion on his face. I felt something crush my throat, and I
couldn’t seem to get enough air. I tried hard not to think about
the disgust I saw on Landon’s face. How he must regret ever
touching or kissing me.

I still wasn’t sure if I was either a
monster or a witch. I felt the magic healing my wounds, and I
fought the tears that filled my eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. My
sword felt heavy in my hand, and my tears fell. I was
whimpering.

I felt my strength return. I met their
disgusted gazes and straightened up. No one tried to approach me.
They were all too frightened.

So I did the only thing I could. I spun
around and bolted towards the iron gates.

I dashed past the strange tombs and sculpted
gods. When I made it to the gates, I heard feet rushing behind me.
I didn’t turn around. I kept going. I knew I had a few seconds
lead, and I wouldn’t waste it.

The thought of Rose and of a new life
somewhere away from all of this gave me the strength to push on. I
wouldn’t let them crush my spirit.

To hell with them all. I had the stone.

It was only when I had left Hollowmere and
was running across the barren land that I sneaked a peek behind me.
The Duke of Romila and his company were close behind me. They were
followed by
Bartolomeu Dias, with Prince Landon and his group who
weren’t far behind.
The Girmanians had fallen back, and I
still couldn’t see Mad Jack or his two bodyguards.

I had escaped death twice. I couldn’t help
but feel empowered. Yes, I was different, but it was a
good
different. I still didn’t understand what it all meant, but I’d
have time to figure it out. I had a feeling that Rose knew a lot
more than she let on. She was the first person I’d interrogate when
I got home.

I realized that I’d been running with my
sword in my hand, so I sheathed it in my weapons belt. I could run
much faster with my hands free. I kicked up sand as I went and
didn’t slow down.

After what felt like hours of running, I
felt a giant cramp in my side, and I had to stop. I wheezed as I
caught my breath but continued walking. I had lost my bag in all
the confusion. All I had were my weapons and the stone. I could
feel it at my waist, pulsing in time with my heart. I had no food
or water. My body was used to poor nourishment, but it could not
survive without water.

I smelled terrible, and I was sweating like
a real peasant. I recognized a weedy field up ahead. It was one of
the places we’d made camp on the way, and I headed for it. It had
been one of the only areas in Goth with a reasonably sized
woodland. I quickened my pace and hiked through the waist-high
grass and piles of dry leaves that crunched under my boots. There
were woods to my right.

I can lose them there
.

My thighs burned with every stride as I
plunged into the stand of pine and birch trees. Branches nicked my
face and sliced through my skin like the thinnest of knives, but I
never broke my stride.

Eventually I began to falter over the fallen
trees and underbrush. I was getting tired. Every step became more
difficult, and I felt like my legs were made of iron blocks. I was
drenched in my own sweat. Finally my cloak got caught between two
birch trees, and I was flung backwards. I didn’t have the energy or
the patience to untangle my cloak, so I ripped it free.

I moved carefully now to avoid slipping on
the moss-covered stones. The little light I had was fading into the
semi-darkness. The air was surprisingly wet and cool. I shivered
uncontrollably as my wet clothes clung to me but gave me no
warmth.

But the stone did. It pulsed warmly at my
waist. Even through its cage, I could feel its energy, and I was
tempted to pick it up to warm my hands. I decided against it at the
last minute. Although I was curious, I was still terrified of the
stone.

I leapt a rotten log and then climbed up a
gentle slope and jogged down the other side. I slowed and sped up
again as I made my way in a zigzag motion. I hoped to throw my
pursuers off with my crisscrossing. But I had to be careful, if I
got too deep into these woods I’d get lost for sure.

At the top of the hill I stopped and glanced
back. The Fransians had pushed ahead of the Romilians, but both
were catching up to me. The Anglians and their prince had fallen
farther back and seemed to be flagging.

I tore down the slope, heading south, and
scurried into another cover of woodland. Branches slapped my face,
roots tripped me, and thorns scratched my arms and tore holes in my
clothes as I ran through the forest