The Girl at the Well Read online

  Her parents loved and respected the people of the Golden Region. And they respected the skills of the people of the Mason Region. But the others? They were always labeled troublesome. What if the children of the Step Region were being truthful? Was that possible? Stella put her arms around Liralexa and held her in a warm embrace.

  “I wish I could eat with you, my dear. But the business of running the kingdom never ends.”

  She kissed her daughter on the forehead and left her alone in the spacious dining room. Liralexa plopped down on her favorite chair and propped her chin in her hand. Despite the room’s large size, she felt the walls closing in on her. Sam entered bearing soup, bread, cheese and a steaming cup of tea. He silently placed the tray in front of her and hurried out of the room.

  Liralexa didn’t want to think the claims made by Malthus and the others could be true. But what if they were? Absorbed in her thoughts, she went to her room leaving half the food uneaten. She didn't feel like doing anything. She fell onto her bed. Her usual pastimes, her reading, her embroidery, her musical instruments, her drawing, all held little interest to her now. Could there really be an underlying darkness to her idyllic life? Could her parents really have a dark side? No, it was impossible. Everything in her region couldn’t have been built on the backs of oppressed peoples. That’s not the kind of rulers her parents were. They often held parties and invited hundreds of people at a time. They visited the sick. Comforted the bereaved. The more she thought about it the more ridiculous the allegations against her parents seemed.

  “Heinous and false allegations,” she screamed in her mind. “There is probably ceremonial stuff related to the Strages they don’t want to let me know about just yet,” she reasoned. “I get nervous after all and my parents are always sensitive to my feelings.”

  She fell asleep, convinced her parents were wonderful and the world she inhabited was perfect. But sleep had no intention of bringing peace to her troubled mind. In her dreams, she saw a rancid thick sludge pour out of the Royal House. It crept through forests and over hills. It seeped into rivers and streams. Soon it had filled the entirety of the countryside. Panicked screams echoed throughout the land as those trapped in the lava-like mire struggled to escape its grasp. Black smoke emerged from the chimney and darkened the skies. Out of it came thousands of vicious crows. Their terrifying shrieks filled the air. Survivors who fled to the trees for safety could only watch helplessly as the terrible creatures who appeared to be cawing “murder” over and over closed in on them. Other survivors headed for the city and begged the king and queen for help. They laughed a maniacal laugh which echoed through the crowded streets and narrow alleys.

  “Guards, we have fresh blood. Take them to the stadium.”

  Neatly ironed sheets transformed into a knotted bundle as Liralexa, trapped in a land of horror, flailed about.

  Chapter Three

  “Every day you came home

  Threw your arms around me

  And planted a kiss on my cheek.

  It embarrassed me.

  Now I would give anything

  To hear the click of the key in the lock,

  To feel your arms enwrap me,

  To feel your lips on my cheek.

  I struggle to accept

  I will never see you again”

  — Journal entry by Malthus West

  The glowing window which bore the princess away had barely vanished when the lampooning of her character began.

  “She seems nice,” Jack mocked.

  “How dare you, boy!” Meryl said, mimicking Liralexa’s haughty manner. “Don’t you know the scar-necks are kind and honorable.”

  “They’re the best,” Aimee quipped. “Just terrific. We nobodies wish we could be as wondrous as the beautiful and blessed scar-necks.”

  “That girl is annoying,” Anton said. “Wow! I don’t know what to say.” He affected a high-pitched, squeaky tone. “I won’t put up with your insolence, boy. I’m Liralexa and I’m amazing. That’s Liralexa, after my wonderful grandmothers Lira and Lexa.”

  Aimee turned somber. “We’re doomed. If that featherbrain is what’s coming next, then our nightmare won’t end for a long time.”

  “Imagine our children and grandchildren, if we’re around to have any, being taken to the Strages,” Anton moaned. “Because that’s how long it will go on.”

  Malthus’s face turned dark as a thundercloud. Tendrils of dread stretched and twined their way around every organ in his body.

  “We shouldn’t tell anyone about this,” he said, in an icy tone.

  “Why?” Jack wondered. “I know someone who would be very interested to know the location of the portal.”

  “That’s why,” Malthus said. “He might do something stupid with the information. We should bide our time.”

  “Do you mean my brother?” Anton asked.

  “Yeah,” Malthus said. “I know they’re training a lot, but his rebels aren’t ready yet. I don’t want to lose access to the portal before we know what we’ll do. If the crown finds out we know the location and how to access it, there will be hell to pay.”

  “He’s right,” Anton agreed. “We need to keep it secret for now.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Meryl pinched her thumb and forefinger and moved them across her lips.

  For as long as he could remember, Malthus had a seething hatred for the royal family. There was murder in his heart every time their soldiers led away a dozen of the region’s children. The Strages were held monthly throughout the summer and fall seasons. Young victims from the Step Region were taken to compete in three to four every year.

  Malthus also placed the responsibility for the death of his mother directly at the feet of the royal couple. He adored his mother and not a day went by when he didn’t think of her. Governor West never stood up to General Hackett and his troops. His wife Cordelia wasn’t so accommodating. She had no qualms about talking back and calling out the royal representatives. There were many verbal altercations between the soldiers and the governor’s wife, which the general typically found amusing. But on that fateful day things turned physical when Hackett picked the daughter of her best friend for the Strages. His picks were mostly random. A large red bow adorning the girl’s dress caught his attention. There was no way for the poor girl to know her choice of clothing that day was a death sentence. But such was the arbitrariness of life in the lesser regions.

  When a soldier laid hands on the girl, Cordelia intervened to protect her. A struggle ensued. The soldier pushed her so hard, she fell over and slammed her head on a stone bench. Malthus wanted to run to her. He wanted to stab the soldier with his dagger. But he couldn't move. It was as if his feet were stuck in cement. He watched his mother’s blood trickle into the grass. When Governor West ran to help her, General Hackett called out, “Leave her!”

  “My wife is dying,” he screamed.

  “She assaulted a member of the royal army,” the general said, in a dispassionate tone. “Leave her!”

  Everyone stood and stared at the dying woman until the next teenager was selected for having large paint stains on his clothes. Another soon-to-be bereaved mother screamed out in pain, diverting attention away from the governor’s dying wife. But Malthus continued to stare, unable to move, and barely breathing.

  Bright and early the next day his grieving father and uncle stomped into the green, with sledgehammers over their shoulders. The clatter of metal on stone rung in the ears of Malthus and the small crowd that gathered as the two men took out their anger on the bench. They pounded that old seat, a fixture in the green for a hundred years, until it was nothing more than a pile of rubble. Malthus didn't see the point of beating a bench with a sledgehammer. It didn't kill his mother. A soldier did. And that soldier was there on orders from the king and queen. He often lay awake at night plotting violent revenge, taking pleasure in the pained screams of King Cameron, Queen Stella, and Liralexa as he repeatedly pummeled them with a sledgehammer. He hit them and hi
t them until the walls were bathed in spattered blood. He hadn't figured out how he would enter the palace to do it but one day, he would make them pay. Malthus believed he was a chosen one, that saving his people was his destiny, based on the misunderstood prophecy of a member of the Sigils Guild. His mother told him all about it when he was ten.

  “You’re special,” she told him. “It has been foretold you will save the peoples of the subject regions from the cruelty of the king and queen. It all happened on a beautiful midsummer’s day. You were two years old. Your father served as deputy governor at the time. I was seated on the stoop with you by my side when a gray haired woman in a black cloak who claimed to have extramundane powers approached. She bore no marks of the Sigils Guild but claimed to have the power to tell fortunes. She told me you were a special child and would someday save your people. I told her there was no need to save our people. We are doing very well, I said. But she pointed toward the south, toward the Golden Region, and said a storm was coming and you will be the one to save us. I was polite but thought she was being ridiculous. The next day, I sought out the wagonman and asked if any member of the Sigils Guild had arrived the previous day. He said yes, Almora the Good had come through the portal and had asked for directions to the home of the deputy governor. I described the woman, and he said that was indeed Almora the Good, a second level member of the Guild. I told your father. She must be mistaken, he said. But a second level guild member couldn't possibly make a mistake. Just a few years later the storm arrived in the form of an exceedingly corrupt king and queen and I knew my little boy was special. It filled me with pride and terror at the same time. Thankfully, since her passing, no foreseer has emerged to take her place. There is no one to warn the king and queen of what you are destined to do.”

  Malthus now knew how to get close to the Royal House. He wasn’t sure what he would do with that knowledge, but he lay awake late that night plotting and planning. Now that he could put a face to the name Liralexa, he imagined himself pummeling those haughty features, and teaching that selfish brat a lesson. He was tired of General Hackett humiliating his father, and his father submitting to the abuse. He swore he would never stand for such disrespect. Now the young princess had humiliated him and there was nothing he could do but remain respectful in her presence. He wasn’t so respectful in his mind. He cursed her. He imagined putting a knife to her throat and making her plead for mercy. And those pleas would fall on deaf ears, just like the pleas of the victims of the Strages fell on deaf ears. It was all possible because he now knew the location of the portal and the incantation to access it. His imaginary sledgehammer was pummeling the princess into a pulp as his mind drifted into sleep.

  Malthus was one of many in the subject regions who dreamt of vengeance. But he was one of just a few who had any intention of turning thoughts into actions. Anton’s older brother Matt Regus was also seeking revenge. When he was eighteen, he watched as his sixteen-year-old brother was taken away to the Strages. They were fishing near the wooden bridge at a bend in the Enton River when they froze, then felt a sensation of being pulled. Moments later they were standing in the green in Vallerton. Matt’s repeated screams of no echoed from the surrounding buildings when his brother’s straw hat caught the general’s attention. He didn't know what else to do. He watched as his sobbing younger sibling’s wrists were bound and his eyes covered. Matt helplessly placed his hands on his head as a soldier put a rope around his brother’s waist to hitch him to the other picks. The lead prisoner was tied to a wagon and the anguished youngsters were led away in single file. Indignant and despairing family members chased after them. Soldiers on foot and on horseback used whips and batons to keep them at bay. When Matt tried to grab hold of his brother, a foot soldier punched him in the head. Reeling from the blow, he fell to the ground and watched with blurry eyes as his brother faded away. He ran through the streets, never faltering along the way, until he reached his home. His parents ran out of the house when they heard his sharp and pitiful screams. His mother fell to her knees when she was told the terrible news. His father walked in circles with his hands on the back of his head. Anton stood at the doorway in tears. Now Matt was ready to avenge his brother’s death.

  Forty men and women from varied economic backgrounds, with skin tones from light to dark, united to fight a common enemy. They hoped to bring about political change by ambushing General Hackett and his soldiers as they made their way into Vallerton. Matt thought the Governor was weak and submissive. If Adin West would not stand up to the royals, he told his rebels, they would. Anger and grief consumed him. That anger and grief could only be sated by the spilling of blood. Twice a week, Matt and his followers made their ascent into the Essen Hills to train. Each time a new member joined, Matt Regus gave a rousing speech.

  “The regional governors are weak. All of them including our own. When the Golden Region says they'll beat us, they bend over. What they should do, what we all should do, is grab the whip and hit back. And hit them hard. Imagine if every region fired upon the crown troops when they showed up to take our kids and our goods. What could they do? Kill us all? They can't do that. They need the peoples of what they deem the lesser regions to grow the food they put on their tables. To provide the fuel for their fires. To make cloth and sew it into fine clothing. Their metals, their lumber, their stone. Try constructing all those fancy buildings in the Golden Region without the labor of our regions, Your Majesties. Try exporting nothing to neighboring kingdoms. They need us to work as their servants and do the manual labor they believe is beneath them.

  If we stood up to them, they would have no choice but to back down and show us the respect we deserve. It’s either that or farm their farms, mine their mines, and cut stones from their quarries with their own bare hands. We will be the ones to start this war. When word spreads to other regions, they'll join us. I'm sure of that. There is strength in unity. United we stand, divided they stand. For every one of them, there are five of us in the lesser regions. Think about that. We outnumber them five to one. If we and the peoples of the other abused subject regions unite, we will be unbeatable. Are you with me?”

  “Yes!” his enthusiastic followers yelled.

  Malthus wasn't interested in joining Matt’s group. Only partly because of Matt’s constant criticism of his father. The rabble-rouser was just as critical of his own father, who served as deputy governor. Malthus had no interest in killing soldiers. He wanted to kill the people who gave them their orders. He wanted to kill the royal family. And that suddenly became a real possibility.

  Chapter Four

  “Birth is a weird accident

  With some born to immediately die

  Some born low, and some born high

  Some penniless from their first breath

  Some royal and a million worth”

  — Journal entry by Liralexa Abbingdon

  Liralexa woke with a start and head-splitting pain. Her attempt at rest, repeatedly disturbed by violent dreams, and nightmarish visions of her parents cheering on ritualistic murder, did her little good. Her pre-sleep certainty had turned into post-sleep doubt. She forced herself out of bed, leaned over the washbasin, and splashed cool water on her face. Her eyes watched ripples form as beads of water dropped from her skin but her mind barely registered them. She picked up a towel and dabbed her cheeks and forehead. The pale and dazed figure staring back at her from the mirror startled her. Her hand reached up and touched her face. Did she look old suddenly? She certainly felt it.

  Aldrin once told her that people are adept at noticing evidence which affirms their existing world view and disregarding contradictory evidence. We filter out what challenges our beliefs, he explained. Truth cannot be created or altered. But it can be ignored. When he ignores reality, the fool can think himself wise, the evil pure of heart and righteous. Truth may be banging on their door but they'll blithely dismiss her to wrap themselves up in the comfort and perceived safety of false beliefs. Reality and truth had torn down the ram
part guarding Liralexa’s own false perceptions. But she couldn’t ignore that reality, no matter how much pain it brought her.

  “What a stupid girl I have been. I have lived in a fool’s paradise all these years and failed to notice. The signs were everywhere but my many amusements have dulled my senses.”

  Maybe she was being too hard on herself. They were her parents after all, and she wanted to see the best in them. And it wasn't like they were flaunting their brutality in front of her. Then again, there were plenty of things said around the dinner table over the years, which should have raised suspicion. She flopped on her bed feeling nothing and everything at the same time.

  The clang of the dinner bell hurt her already throbbing head. She didn’t want to see her parents, but she didn’t want to tell them she was feeling unwell. They would fuss over her. That was the last thing she wanted because at that moment, she didn’t like them very much. She pulled herself together the best she could and dragged herself along the wood paneled hallway. She stopped at the spiral staircase and stared at a portrait of her grandparents King Artis and Queen Lira. Aldrin often told her stories about how much their subjects loved them. Thousands lined procession routes in the regions to wave at the king and queen. It occurred to her he never told her stories like that about her parents. Did they even visit the regions? They often traveled to other kingdoms, but she couldn't recall any visits to their own people in other parts of the Nine Regions. She descended the spiral staircase and trudged to the empty dining room. A place was set for her next to her parents. She sat in her chair dreading the inevitable appearance of her mother and father.

  If you like someone their quirks may humor you. If you dislike them, those same quirks can make you grind your teeth. Stella always swept into the dining room with the bearing of a goddess. Including this very night though nary a guest was present to behold her. This was the first time it grated on her daughter’s nerves. It felt to Liralexa that the very purpose of the grand entry was to annoy her. Cameron always pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and coughed to clear his throat before he pulled out his chair. Every single time. This was the first time his daughter rolled her eyes and shook her head. Seating themselves with the utmost elegance they didn’t notice.