Seals (29 page)

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 back 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 Wichdom. 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.

Kim Richardson is the
author of the SOUL GUARDIANS and MYSTICS series. She was born in a
small town in Northern Quebec, Canada, and studied in the field of
3D Animation. As an Animation Supervisor for a VFX company, Kim
worked on big Hollywood films and stayed in the field of animation
for 14 years. Since then, she has retired from the VFX world and
settled in the country where she writes full
time.

To learn more about the author, please
visit:

www.kimrichards
onbooks.com

www.facebook.com/KRAuthorPage

http://twitter.com/Kim_Richardson_