Chapter 461: When the Earth Gave Way

Chapter 460: When the Earth Gave Way

Lyria’s POV

"Your Highness," Aldric said softly, his voice pitched low so that none other might hear, "I was directed to a well."

I regarded him for a moment, somewhat puzzled by the solemnity with which he had delivered what appeared, at first hearing, to be a rather ordinary statement.

"A-and is there s-something w-wrong with it?" I asked.

Aldric swallowed.

"It is, I fear, somewhat comical," he admitted at last. "For I do not know how to use a well. We have no such thing in High Moor. I must confess that I have never had occasion to learn."

For several seconds I said nothing.

"I-I must a-admit that I too do not q-quite know the full m-mechanism of o-one either."

"Indeed?" he inquired.

"I-I have seen wells b-before," I continued, "but I cannot c-claim that I have ever been r-required to draw w-water from one myself. P-perhaps I ought to accompany you, and between us w-we may discover h-how it is done."

Before Aldric could answer, Elara spoke. She had remained close by throughout.

"Your Highness, there is no need."

I turned towards her.

Her sleeves were rolled to the elbow, her gown marked with mud and damp earth after several hours of labour.

"I know perfectly well how to use a well," she said.

Aldric’s expression suggested that this was the most encouraging declaration he had heard all morning.

"I-I see," I replied. "T-then perhaps y-you might go with h-him."

"Of course, Your Highness."

I inclined my head.

"T-thank y-you, Elara."

She waved the matter aside quietly.

"There is no need for thanks, Your Highness. I am thirsty myself."

Then, raising her voice so that it carried across the nearest rows, she announced in an entirely pleasant tone,

"Would anyone else be requiring drinking water?"

For a moment there was silence.

Then, from somewhere two fields above us, a woman called out in a rough, carrying voice,

"An’ ’ow d’ye think ye’re goin’ ter get water fer all of us? This ain’t the capital!"

A few people laughed.

Elara did not even turn towards the woman.

Instead she called back with the same measured courtesy, "Will you require water to drink?"

The woman’s eyebrows twitched. She had clearly not expected the question to be put so directly.

"Aye," she answered after a moment.

"Very well."

The woman looked about herself, seemingly irritated that she had been made to answer so plainly. Then she shouted, considerably louder than Elara had spoken,

"Who wants water? The Princess’s maid says she’s fetchin’ it, so ye may as well speak up!"

That was apparently sufficient invitation.

One voice rose from the lower fields.

"I’ll take some!"

Another called from the opposite side.

"Me too!"

"An’ me!"

"I’d not say no!"

Mocking laughter travelled through the fields, followed by several more requests, until it seemed half the people within hearing distance had suddenly discovered that they were thirsty.

Elara stopped what she was doing and looked towards me.

"Well," she murmured, "that is rather more than I had anticipated."

"I-I believe Aldric will n-not be sufficient a-assistance," I told her.

"No, Your Highness. I rather suspect he shall not."

She turned then and called towards the upper field.

"Ellis!"

The young valet, who had been standing near Oliver and several townspeople, turned at once.

"What is the matter?"

"I require your assistance."

Ellis looked towards Oliver, then back at Elara.

"Of course."

He began making his way towards us.

He did not hurry. The ground had become treacherous after so many hours of labour, and several sections had already given way beneath the feet of those attempting to cross them. Ellis tested each step carefully before putting his weight upon it, his boots sinking into the soft earth.

When he finally reached us, Elara explained what she required.

Ellis glanced across the fields.

"That may be rather a lot."

"I am aware."

Before they could leave, however, another voice sounded behind us.

"I’ll go with ye."

We turned. Obadiah stood several paces away, his hands still covered in mud.

Elara blinked.

"You will?"

"Aye."

"Are you certain?" she asked.

Obadiah gave her a blank look.

"There’s a fair few people needs water, ain’t there? An’ some o’ ’em didn’t even ’ear the request. Might as well bring enough."

The people nearest to us had gone quiet. Several looked at Obadiah. It was not difficult to understand why; yet Obadiah seemed entirely unconcerned by their scrutiny.

He simply turned and began walking.

Elara exchanged a glance with me before following. Aldric came behind her, and Ellis brought up the rear.

I watched the four of them make their way across the fields until the uneven ground hid them from sight.

Then I returned to my work.

The hours wore on.

The sun climbed higher, and though the air remained cool enough to keep the labour bearable, the exertion had begun to weigh upon everyone. Mud clung to boots and hems; gloves were dark with soil; sleeves were stained.

Yet there was something strangely satisfying about seeing the fields gradually change beneath our efforts.

A patch that had been buried beneath branches became visible again. Stones were carried away. Damaged stalks were separated from those that might yet survive. Small areas of earth were cleared sufficiently for the farmers to examine them.

I had just finished moving a particularly stubborn piece of timber when I straightened and stretched my back.

I had not realised how stiff I had become until then.

As I raised my head, my gaze fell upon a little girl making her way uphill.

She could not have been more than seven or eight years of age.

Like many of the other children who had been helping throughout the day, she wore gloves upon her hands and carried a small basket. Their baskets were never filled to the brim as the adults’ were, for fear of overworking them.

The girl’s basket was empty as she climbed. Sweat had gathered along her forehead, matting strands of hair against her face.

Yet she appeared entirely cheerful. She was even singing.

I could not make out every word of what she sang, but I recognised the sort of tune children invent for themselves, repeating the same lines as though the repetition itself made the work easier.

A smile came to my lips.

There was something almost peaceful about the sight.

For a brief moment, Gallowshill did not appear broken.

It was merely a village full of people working together beneath the afternoon sun.

Then the girl stepped onto a narrow strip of earth and suddenly the ground gave way.

A sharp crack sounded and the girl’s song ended in a scream.

I did not wait to think. I only reacted. Being the closest, I reached her just as the earth beneath her disappeared.

My hands caught her arms.

The force of her fall dragged me forward, and I dropped heavily into the mud, my knees striking the ground hard.

The basket went tumbling away as the child sobbed loudly.

My hands tightened around her small arms.

Her body hung partly over the opening, her legs kicking helplessly above the darkness below. I held on with everything I possessed.

I did not care that my clothes were fully soiled with mud. Nor that I might have injured myself with the intensity of the movement. In that moment I cared only for the child.

I braced my feet against what remained of the field as others began making their way towards us.

For one terrible moment, I thought I had her.

Then the earth beneath my knees shifted.

A deep rumble passed through the ground.

I looked down and saw the opening growing wider, blocking some others from even approaching.

The fields behind her sank inward with a terrible groaning sound, taking crops and soil with it as though the earth itself had suddenly become hollow—fields, some of which had only just been recovered.