The Girl at the Well

by J. C. Ahmed

  “Thank you so much,” Meryl said, as Liralexa laid out the food on a mat. The three were hungry and dug into their meal.

  “I hope Aimee and Malthus are safe,” Liralexa fretted.

  A prickling sensation ran down all their spines. Liralexa looked through the window hoping to see Malthus sauntering through the woods. She knew it wouldn’t happen, but it was comforting to think about. She spent a few minutes with her guests then headed for the door.

  “I will monitor the stables. General Hackett keeps his horse there. When I see him, it will be safe for you to go home.”

  If she passed the house, her mother would spot her, so she had to take a longer route around the side of the hill.

  “Damn that woman,” Liralexa muttered. “She sees everything.”

  Taking the long way round was a good way to kill time. She was impatient to return to the Step Region, so any distraction was welcomed. She climbed a tree overlooking the stable, sat in the branches and watched people coming and going. Her mind wandered as she thought of Malthus. The inveterate daydreamer had to force herself to pay attention. When she spotted the general, she scrambled down. She tore over rocky ground, between gorse bushes, and through woodland, skillfully navigating between the trees until she reached the tree house.

  “Let’s go!” she panted.

  The wary evacuees looked around as they descended the ladder. They crept back to the well, taking great pains to ensure no one spotted them. Liralexa recited the incantation, and they followed her into the portal. Shock as hot as a bolt of lightning ripped through her when they emerged on the other side. Malthus and Aimee weren't there.

  “I had hoped they would be here looking for you.” Liralexa’s voice was tinged with disappointment.

  “They're probably at home,” Anton said, with a tremulous tone which told the others he didn't believe that.

  Liralexa wanted to be sure her friends were safe, but she couldn’t stay. When she got home, she was miserable but in a house abuzz with activity no one noticed. At least she could mope around without anyone interrogating her. She lay on her bed, squeezing the life out of a pillow. Malthus and Aimee were at home in front of their fireplaces, she reassured herself. But then a disturbing thought hit her. Even if that was true, there were three dozen kids who weren't at home. The realization cut through her soul. Here she was lying on her bed surrounded by all the comforts in the world while kids her age were being terrorized just miles away.

  Chapter Eleven

  “The unthinkable is all I think about

  It’s calling to me and I can’t shut it out

  You smile at me

  I feel your kiss, your warm embrace

  You have no idea what’s in my mind”

  — Journal entry by Liralexa Abbingdon

  Still tied and blindfolded, the prisoners waited for hours before guards arrived to take them to their cells. Malthus was disgusted to hear chatter and laughter around him as they stood lined against a wall. He couldn't fathom how people could be so cruel. His hatred for scar-necks grew exponentially. He imagined all the terrible and bloody things he wanted to do to them, but he was helpless. He had desire but lacked opportunity. But he was a chosen one. That opportunity was certain to present itself. The universal powers would see to it. The guards led their prisoners out into the street. Malthus imagined Matt and his rebels watching from building tops preparing to strike, then carrying them away to freedom. The desperate hold on to the slimmest hopes. When they came to a stop, their blindfolds were removed. They blinked to block out the searing setting sun.

  “Bagnyo Prison,” a guard said, in a callous tone. “This will be your home for a couple of days.”

  Guards stood around eyeing the girls. He tried not to but Malthus began to cry for Aimee. She was about to go through absolute hell. In that instant, he lost all hope. Almora the Good must have mistaken him for someone else. He had to be honest with himself. There was no way out of this.

  Youngsters with foreheads marked blue and green soon joined them. The boys and girls were separated and led to their cells. Malthus couldn’t imagine having to spend a couple of days crowded into a small space with a bunch of other boys, but he had no say in the matter. He fell to the floor and rebuked himself for not carrying out his plan sooner. He had made so many preparations but it was all for naught. The tears of the other boys and concern for the girls tore at his heart. He had a plan to save them, and he messed up. His lack of forethought could prove fatal for himself and countless others. His helplessness gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to die but this death would be so pointless. If he died after killing the king and queen, at least he would have accomplished something momentous. He could have walked to his execution with his head held high, a hero to the masses in the seven abused regions. Instead, his death would be degrading entertainment for a bunch of hated scar-necks.

  Exhaustion eventually overtook him, and he fell into a fitful sleep on the stone floor. He awoke to the sound of clanging as the cell door opened. A guard dumped bread rolls onto the floor. The boys rushed for them. Malthus grabbed hold of one and bit into the hard crust. This would be his life for the next two days. If only he could be at home, seated at the dinner table with his father, digging into a roast or lamb stew. But the gnawing hunger in his heart exceeded that of his stomach. He missed his father, their housekeeper, Aimee, Meryl, Anton and Jack. Did he miss Liralexa? No, he decided he had a burning hatred for her too. She was a scar-neck, and he wished torment and misery on all of them. He hoped that at the moment of his humiliating expiration the hidden powers of the universe would say enough is enough and unleash destruction on these sadistic people. Dreaming up their destruction brought him great pleasure. His mind conjured up images of the sky darkening, the spectators pointing to it with a mixture of fear and wonderment as the clouds whipped into a violent churn. Instead of precious water falling, intense flames rained down on them. They fled in terror but there was no escape. Certain doom was upon them. A sinister voice boomed from on high.

  “Now, it is your turn to suffer, to watch your children die, to be helpless to save them, to feel the pain you unleashed on others. We will show you no pity.”

  The universal powers would eat and drink, laugh and cheer, make bets and jokes, as they watched their victims suffer and die. A smirk lit up his face as his exhausted body once again succumbed to the pull of sleep.

  Regret kept Liralexa awake late that night. If only she had put more time into thinking of ways to protect her friends than in feeling sorry for herself, she could be certain Malthus and Aimee were safe. Sleep came in fits. During moments of wakefulness, her mind furled around memories of times which seemed like long ago but could easily be measured in hours and days. When she awoke from her final bout of sleep and saw a sliver of sunlight sneaking through a space between her curtains, a burst of certainty flowed over her, warming her body inside and out. Malthus was safe. She could feel it. When she met him that day, she would tell him her brilliant plan for keeping him and his friends safe in the future. Sure, she couldn't save all the children who needed protection. But at least she could do this. She sang and hummed as she got ready.

  “My love he waits for me,

  We’ll sit on a dead tree.”

  “You're in a good mood, Your Highness,” Alma said.

  “It's going to be a wonderful day,” she sang.

  Thoroughly conned by the delusive powers of Hope, she grabbed Alma’s hands and swung her around.

  “I feel like celebrating,” Liralexa cried.

  “Your Highness,” Alma squealed.

  If Malthus had been there, his mouth would have turned up into a bitter grin.

  “Hello, Hope, you again.”

  Liralexa wasn't jaded enough yet. The trickster Hope hadn't let her down very often. She was certain she would see Malthus that day, throw her arms around his neck and press her head against his chest. She swept into the study with a smile spread across her face and took her seat. Aldrin p
laced a book called “Introduction to the Sigils Guild” in front of her. The hand-written book filled with calligraphic text and lavish decoration was like nothing she had ever seen.

  She gasped. “This is beautiful.”

  “Every member of the Sigils Guild learns the art of the scribe. Their thousands of books of magic were all written or copied by hand. Please copy the facts on the first three pages.”

  Liralexa studied the facts before setting them on paper. Her quill stopped mid-sentence as Malthus’s smile wafted into her consciousness. She propped her head on her hand and drank it in.

  “Woolgathering won't an assignment finish, Princess.” Aldrin smirked.

  Embarrassed, she picked up her quill and got back to work. When she was done, she looked through the book.

  “Why does Attilus the Great’s spell only protect the firstborn?” she asked.

  “It’s a fail-safe to prevent younger siblings from overthrowing the king and queen.”

  “But if the firstborn died before they could leave an heir, the protective spell would be broken. That could lead to the end of Abbingdon family rule.”

  “The protective spell would transfer to a younger sibling if they played no role in the demise of the firstborn. Still, I doubt anyone believed the Abbingdon line would persist to this day. The territory which became the Golden Region was a trouble spot for hundreds of years. Control of the region changed hands multiple times. Attilus the Great wanted to reward Lestor Abbingdon for saving his life by ensuring his descendants would hold the throne for generations to come. But I don't think he expected his spell would protect the Abbingdon line for a thousand years and counting.”

  Liralexa skimmed through the facts looking for more information on portals.

  “How many people know the locations of the portals?”

  “Hundreds.”

  “That seems like very valuable information to have, yet no one has ever sold it.”

  “The power of magic prevents them. As soon as they are hired for portal travel, the spell is cast.”

  “Oh? So they can't tell anyone the locations?”

  “Or even write them down. A potent hidden force makes it impossible for them to communicate the positions of any portal or even the general locality.”

  “So, why can't we use all this magic for good? For example, to cure all diseases? Or to make food appear, so no one ever has to go hungry?”

  “Only magicians with ‘the Great’ or ‘the Magnificent’ after their names can create spells. But none are omnipotent. I'm sure they have tried to create such spells but were unable. Most magicians can’t create spells. They can only cast existing spells. But most have varying levels of power. They can't cast all existing spells. The most powerful wizards around today have ‘the Good’ after their names. They are the ones capable of casting at least half the spells in all the spell books in the land. The least powerful, who have ‘the Fair’ affixed to their names, are the most numerous. They are at the bottom of the three levels.”

  “I see,” Liralexa said.

  As soon as she finished her studies, she raced to the well. She felt a lump in her throat when she emerged from the portal to find Jack wearing a sorrowful expression.

  “They took Malthus?” she screamed. He nodded his head.

  “And my sister.” He sounded numb and defeated.

  “Aimee, too!”

  Liralexa choked out the words as she fell to her knees. The ground beneath her appeared to pitch and shake. Unable to fathom how she could live with such a massive hole in her heart, she wanted it to open and swallow her up.

  “I could have saved them, if I had thought of my plan sooner,” she cried.

  “There is still a way to save them,” Jack blurted out. “But I need your help.”

  “I'll do anything.” She jumped to her feet, her dizziness instantly cured. “What is it? Tell me!”

  Jack swallowed hard. “Kill your parents.”

  Liralexa’s mouth fell wide open. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she was paralyzed. She couldn't get the words out.

  “It's the only way to save them. If your parents don't die then you'll have to watch Malthus or Aimee, or perhaps both, die at the Strages this weekend?”

  “You want me to murder my parents?” she gasped.

  “You wouldn't do it…”

  “You want me to partake in a conspiracy to murder my parents?” she interrupted.

  “They die and hundreds of lives will be saved. They live and hundreds will die. Do you choose two or hundreds?”

  “Are you mad? How can you even ask this of me?”

  “I'm about to lose my sister and my best friend. What choice do I have? It's the only way.”

  Her heart sank. She bit her lower lip. Confused thoughts swirled in her brain.

  “I want to save them but you ask too much.”

  “I thought you cared.”

  “I do but you ask too much. They're still my parents.” She shook her head.

  “I understand. Then my sister and Malthus must die while you watch.”

  He sobbed and wiped his tears with his sleeve.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “It was nice knowing you, Princess. You don't need to come here anymore. Have a good life.”

  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and trudged down the hill. She watched him until he was out of sight. The prospect of never seeing him, Malthus, Aimee, Meryl and Anton again was unbearable.

  Liralexa ran home as fast as her legs would let her. Much to her relief, her mother was away. She rushed to her room, struggling to hold in pent-up tears. A deluge poured from her eyes the instant she closed the door. She fell onto her bed. Her tears soaked one of her pillows. After crying herself out, she lay on the bed staring at her sketch of Malthus.

  “At this moment, he is in a dungeon and I’m not doing anything to help him,” she thought.

  But killing her parents was too much. She wouldn't even consider the idea. A pang of guilt as sharp as a newly honed blade cut through her. When Alma came to check on her, she asked to have her dinner in her room. She spent the evening crying and staring at her drawing of Malthus until her eyelids drooped. She placed the picture on her bedside table, blew out the candle, turned over on her side and sank her moist cheek into her dry pillow. The softness made her feel comforted and safe, the opposite of how Malthus and Aimee must feel. She hoped nobody would hurt them as she cried herself to sleep.

  Liralexa sat in the stands at the Strages. The cacophony of conversation became a murmur when the first participants appeared on the field. Liralexa gasped when she saw Malthus clad in a purple shirt.

  “There was no purple at the last Strages,” she thought. “They gave him a special shirt.”

  She expected to be upset when she saw him on the field, bow in hand, waiting to run for cover. Instead, she was burning with confidence. She picked up a roast chicken drumstick and bit into it. The flavor coated her mouth in succulent honeyed sweetness.

  “This is so good.” She turned to her mother. “We should have this at home.”

  “I'll tell the cook.”

  Liralexa devoured the drumstick as she watched the participants run and hide behind bulwarks and hedges.

  “Purple is the bearer of the fourteen arrows,” the announcer boomed.

  “Malthus has the fourteen arrows,” Liralexa mused. “He’ll easily win this thing.”

  “Let the games begin,” the master of ceremonies yelled.

  Dark yellow was the first to go down. Liralexa yelped and jumped with delight. When light green fell, she pumped her fist.

  “Who are you rooting for?” Cameron asked. He was delighted to see her enjoying the event.

  “Purple. He's tall and handsome. I know he will win.”

  “Lucky you,” her mother laughed. “You picked the purple card.”

  Liralexa continued to cheer as each color that wasn't Malthus succumbed. She tried to count the number of bodies scattere
d on the field. The announcer helpfully answered her question.

  “Nine down! Just two more to go and this round is over.”

  “If purple wins, can I marry him?” Liralexa asked the king.

  “Of course, dear,” he said.

  Liralexa strained her eyes to see her love’s last two opponents. A girl in a dark red shirt crawled along a bulwark. A boy in dark blue came out of nowhere, aimed and pulled back on the bowstring.

  “Please, no,” the girl in dark red screamed. An arrow pierced dark blue in the back. The girl turned her head. As she did, she made eye contact with Liralexa.

  “Aimee?” Liralexa screamed.

  Malthus dropped his bow and stretched out his arms in a signal to Aimee to kill him.

  “No,” Liralexa screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “Father, please, can we let both win?”

  He didn't respond. She jerked her head around in confused wonderment. The people around her were as still as statues. Her eyes darted back to the field. Aimee had lifted her bow, an arrow already aimed at Malthus.

  “I can't do it,” Aimee sobbed.

  “One of us has to die,” he said in a soft, soothing tone. “I’d rather it was me.”

  “Aimee, you don't need to kill him,” Liralexa shouted. “See, look at the crowd. They have all turned to stone.”

  Neither looked her way. It appeared they didn't hear her. Aimee pulled back the bowstring.

  “I don't want to do this,” she sobbed. “You're my friend.”

  “Aimee, you don't have to do it,” Liralexa shouted again. “Please look! They are turned to stone. We can leave. I'll take you back to the Step Region. Things will go back to the way they were. Jack will like me again. Can you not see? They are turned to stone.”