WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. These dreams….it’s like they’re beginning to haunt me.’

Farrell sat in the kitchen of his grand home. The woman he was talking to, was a newly acquired love, they had been together for only a few short months. It was a strange relationship. She was a young traveller of some kind, but she refused to speak of her life or her past to him, Farrell barely even knew who she was, even now.

‘Maybe it’s a sign’ Nevina replied, taking a seat opposite him and pushing the breakfast she had made across the table for him to eat.

Farrell picked up his fork, but didn’t touch his food. He lifted his head, glancing across the table at Nevina. She was an unusual woman. With blonde shaggy hair and naturally light skin, she wore heavy make-up around her eyes and had bright red lips. Her nails were painted, and covering each forearm, she wore extensive tattoos of many different pictures fitting together. It looked indeed as if she had travelled far in her life, and to many places.

Nevina weaved her fingers together, leaning forwards on her elbows as she rested her chin upon the back of her hands.

‘You’re not eating.’

‘I just can’t get her face out of my mind’ Farrell went on, ignoring her comment.

‘Perhaps it’s a sign from the gods.’

‘You know I don’t believe in that rubbish’ Farrell scowled.

‘You might call it rubbish’ Nevina smirked knowingly, ‘others however feel quite strongly to the contrary.’ She pushed her chair back, rising to stand. ‘I have seen many things in my life’ she told him vaguely as she glided out of the kitchen, ‘many incredible things that no one can even begin to explain. I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss any notion of a god if I were you.’

Silence followed her, and by the time Farrell raised his head, he realised she was gone. He had been so deep in thought, that his breakfast by the time he ate it, was stone cold.

Farrell left his home shortly after; there were still questions that he wanted to ask Nevina, so he went searching for her. He found her in the centre of the town, sitting upon her cart as if waiting for him. The cart carried all her worldly possessions, alongside all the other curious things she would buy and sell over the years. It was a modest cart, with a seat at the front for a single person to sit behind the pony that pulled it. The pony was a strange creature, too small to be comfortably ridden by anyone other than a child. Its body and neck was brown and black striped, and its legs and face were pure white. Like everything else about her, it was strange.

Farrell approached the cart, Nevina watched him closely as he did so. He stopped before her, noticing then that everything within the cart was all tied down and covered with a sheet that would repel the rain. Her pony was strapped to the cart with all its harnesses in place, and Nevina herself sat in the seat, wearing her travelling cloak, thick and warm and a little dishevelled.

‘You’re leaving?’ Farrell asked in surprise.

‘I’ve stayed here for far too long’ Nevina said to him. ‘I have so much still to do, so much still to see. The world is out there, its waiting for me.’

‘I won’t see you again’ Farrell said to her, not as a question, but as a statement.

As he said this, he felt a sudden pang of loneliness, as he realised he was losing her forever.

Nevina smiled warmly at him, she leant forward, grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards her. She gave him a gift of one last kiss that was all too brief, before sitting back in her seat and snapping the reins. Her pony jerked its head back, walking briskly forwards.

‘I’ve still so much to ask you’ Farrell called after her. ‘I need your advice!’

‘Look to your heart’ she called back to him, barely glancing around as her pony pulled her onwards. ‘Your instincts will tell you what to do, but if you insist on my advice…’ she turned fully to him now, ‘find your daughter.’

She snapped the reins again, sending the pony into a canter, and in no time at all, she was gone forever from Farrell’s life.

Farrell stood there, feeling more lost and alone than he had done in years. At last he forced himself to turn away, and walk back to his home. Upon the sight of it, he felt even more depressed.

His home, once well cared for and grand, had now fallen into ruins. Since his wife’s death all those years ago, his life had fallen into ruins alongside it, as has everything around him. He no longer held his position as the highest ranking soldier in the kingdom, and over the last few years, had spent his days only existing, with no longer any purpose in life. He had been forced to sell many of his possessions in order to survive. His servants, once having many, he had been forced to discharge; now he had none. His mares, tens of which he had once owned, he had sold, along with all their foals. He now lived completely alone in his large house, which inside was empty of everything besides the most basic of essentials. The house itself had fallen into disrepair, on his own he had not been able to care for it, and had not the money to pay for its upkeep. All he had now was an empty building, and Alastor. His faithful horse which he had managed to keep was now old and worn like his master, the beast had greyed and slowed over the ages, but was still fit to ride.

Farrell called Alastor over to him as he walked slowly up the stone path, meandering around the tall weeds that grew between the flagstones. The mighty stallion lifted his head, trotting across the field on command and stopping before him.

Farrell smiled warmly up at the stallion, reaching over the fence and stroking him affectionately, before moving off again. Alastor stayed where he was, lowering his head to eat grass and flicking his tail.

Farrell ambled up the steps to his home, and towards the front door. He paused before them, remembering suddenly how Ramana used to struggle to open them, and how annoyed she would get when she couldn’t do it. He felt sad then, regretting so much in his life, as he had every day since the day she died. He missed her so dearly; it felt like a physical pain in his heart that was almost unbearable. She had meant so much to him, now……there was no going back.

And then he thought of Amaia.

Farrell walked forwards, opening the door to his home and closing it behind him.

He stood there in the entrance hall, taking in his surroundings. This place, once a home so warm and full of life, was now cold and barren. Farrell’s attention drifted towards the stairs, and he remembered how Amaia used to run up and down them, and how he used to tell her off for doing so, saying how if she carried on she would one day hurt herself. But she never listened, stubborn as she was, just like her mother.

He looked to his right, where there was upon the wall, a great painting of himself, standing beside his wife, with their daughter between them. They all looked so happy in the painting, as happy as they had once been. Farrell remembered then with a flicker of a smile, the day that it was painted. The way Ramana had fussed over anything that wasn’t to her satisfaction. The way Amaia had fidgeted so much and complained, after which Ramana began to complain too. By the end of it, he had been so exasperated with the both of them he was ready to pull his hair out.

Farrell crossed the entrance hall, pausing for a moment as he noticed a mirror upon the wall.

He approached, standing before it and looking back at his tired self.

He was nearly fifty years of age now, but he looked older than that, and felt older still. His skin was worn like old parchment, and there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. His hair had grown streaked with grey, as had his beard which was scruffy and unkempt.

Farrell moved away from the mirror, feeling even lower, a broken shadow of his younger self. He turned slowly and lowered himself down to sit upon the bottom of the stairs. He brought his feet up, placing his arms around his knees, and sighed.

He thought of how meaningless his life had become. He thought of what he might do for the rest of the day, and almost nothing came to mind that was of any value.

And then he thought, of tonight. He was sure that when he slept, he would dream of her again, and she would tell him again, the same thing.

‘Find me….’

‘If I dream the same dream tonight’ Farrell spoke to himself, his voice echoing in the empty hall, ‘I will take it as a sign. If I dream the same dream tonight, then I will leave this place and never look back.’

But something inside him held him back. Raman he knew was dead, but Amaia had never been found, dead or alive. Was there really a change that she could have survived after all this time? Farrell was reluctant to give into the possibility. He had already come to terms with her disappearance, and didn’t want to suffer false hope.

‘But…’ Farrell mused to himself. ‘What if……?’

That night he slept, and the next morning he rose early, dressing quickly he slipped on his boots before storming from the house.

The dream had come again, as he was sure it would, and he felt in his heart now that it would haunt him until he found her. One way or the other.

Farrell strode down the path heading towards the town and in the direction of the home where Alice lived, his brother’s widow.

Alice was sitting at the table in the kitchen having breakfast with her children when Farrell knocked on the door. Her son Shawn answered the door, and Farrell asked if he could come in.

Shawn moved back, allowing Farrell to enter.

‘Farrell’ Alice said in surprise at the sight of him. ‘How lovely, I haven’t seen you in…gods how long has it been?’

‘Can I sit down?’ Farrell asked her.

‘Of course’ Alice smiled at him, and Farrell took the only remaining seat that was unoccupied, the seat his brother used to sit.

Farrell glanced across the table at Alice. He had hardly seen her at all over the past twelve years, and he realised now as he sat before her, how she had aged. She was still pretty, but twelve years was a long time, and the loss of her husband had taken its toll on her, she was greyer, and skinnier than she had been before. Even so, she still looked far better than he did.

On one side of her sat her daughter, Gracie. Nineteen years old now, she was a beautiful young woman, no longer the childish girl Amaia used to play with all those years ago. Now she sat with a good posture and an air of pride and maturity. Farrell then thought with sadness, that Amaia might have perhaps been the same.

Shawn had closed the door, returning to the kitchen, he sat beside his mother on her other side from Gracie. Farrell glanced at him. He was a fully grown man now, handsome, and in height towering over his mother and sister.

They were a beautiful family together, the three of them. And even though Alice had lost her husband, as Farrell had lost his wife, she had managed to continue on with life. Farrell thought then what was, and what could have been.

‘What can we do for you?’ Shawn spoke up. ‘You never visit anymore. Is there something wrong?’

Farrell smiled uncertainly, wondering how what he was about to say would sound, and how they would take it.

‘Not wrong no’ he said slowly. ‘I’m not sure I know how best to explain.’

‘Just give it a try’ Alice said encouragingly, quickly finishing her breakfast and pushing her plate to one side. ‘There’s no harm in that.’ Beside her Gracie listened silently.

‘Do you remember’ Farrell began, ‘it’s not a nice memory I know, but do you remember the day that Ramana died?’

Alice immediately pursed her lips, glancing away from him briefly before facing him again.

‘I do’ she said shortly.

Shawn watched Farrell carefully, wondering where he was going with this.

‘I just had a recent thought’ Farrell went on. ‘Amaia, my daughter…her body was never found.’

‘And this thought has only been a recent one?’ Gracie spoke up for the first time.

Farrell glanced at her; she sat rigid in her chair. He wondered how she had taken the loss of her childhood friend. They had been very close. Perhaps she blamed him. He had never known, had always assumed she was too young to fully understand.

‘I have had these dreams’ Farrell spoke to her now, ‘that plague me every night.’

‘And what do these dreams tell you?’ Alice asked him.

Find me….

‘I see this young woman’ Farrell said. ‘She looks like Ramana, but she isn’t.’ Farrell fidgeted in his chair. ‘She looks like what my daughter might look like if she was alive now.’

‘So you think that because you’ve had dreams she might still be alive?’ Shawn asked.

‘Yes.’

‘After all this time?’

‘Maybe’ Farrell shrugged, sensing his hesitation. ‘Look, if there is a chance that she is alive, I have to find her…I have to at least try.’

‘Why didn’t you do this sooner?’ Gracie asked him. ‘It’s been over ten years since that day.’

‘I’ve no excuse’ Farrell said. ‘I just…..always assumed she was dead.’

‘And now you assume she’s alive’ Gracie went on. ‘Because you had a dream one night?’

Farrell felt her scepticism in her tone.

’I feel she might be alive’ he corrected.

’Because you had a dream about someone who might be her’ Gracie finished flatly.

‘It wasn’t just one dream’ Farrell told her. ‘Since the very first one I’ve had, they have come to me, every single night. And it’s always the same.’

Find me….

‘It’s beginning to haunt me’ Farrell said. ‘I can’t get away from it.’

‘So why did you come here?’ Shawn asked him. ‘Why are you telling us all of this?’

‘I can’t look for her on my own. I need help. And….there was someone else….whom she meant a lot to.’

‘Who?’ Shawn asked.

‘My brother’ Farrell said, lifting his head.

‘Ah’ Shawn realised.

‘If I search for her, I need his help.’

‘And that’s why you came here’ Shawn clarified. ‘Because you need to find him.’

‘I don’t think Arlen would want to see you’ Alice told him uncertainly.

‘I know’ Farrell sighed miserably. ‘But if I am to do this, then I need his help.’

‘So…’ Gracie said, ‘you want us to tell you where he lives.’

There was a long pause before Farrell was ready to answer.

‘Yes.’

Gracie and Shawn both looked to their mother, waiting for her response.

‘You think there might really be a chance that she is alive?’ she asked Farrell.

‘I believe so.’

‘Alright’ Alice said rising to her feet and moving towards a dresser nearby. ‘I shall tell you where you might find him.’

For years since Arlen had first left his home the day Ramana had died, he had still kept in contact with Alice and her children. Arlen still had a deep love for Brice’s family, and cared a lot for them, even after all this time he still wrote to them regularly.

‘His address changes every so often’ Alice said as she opened one of the drawers and sifted through a pile of letters. ‘He travels often now from one place to the next. He’s changed a lot since you last saw him.’

She picked one of the letters out of the stack, and handed it to him.

‘This is the last letter he sent us.’

Farrell took it carefully, glancing at the date. It was sent a week ago.

‘Stonegate’ he said reading the address. ‘That’s a long way from here.’

‘He’s been staying there for a few weeks now’ Alice told him. ‘You’re most likely to find him there. But if you are serious about finding him, I wouldn’t waste time. He never stays in one spot for too long.’

‘Thank you’ Farrell nodded to her. ‘You’ve helped me greatly.’

‘You can keep that letter if you want’ Alice said.

‘Thank you.’

‘So when do you leave?’ Alice asked him.

‘Now…tonight….soon.’ Farrell folded up the letter carefully, pocketing it. ‘I just need to sort out a few things before I go. Thank you for your help’ he said again rising.

He made to leave the room, but before he could reach the front door, Shawn called out to him.

‘Wait!’

Farrell hesitated, turning back.

‘Do you really think you can find her?’

‘Yes I do’ Farrell answered quietly.

‘Then I want to come with you.’

‘Shawn’ Alice cried in dismay, as Farrell stood with a look of stunned disbelief. ‘You can’t just leave us like that!’

‘I’m not going to be gone forever’ Shawn said in his defence. ‘But Amaia meant a lot to all of us, I thinks it’s important that I help find her, if she is alive, then she needs to come home.’

‘I miss her too’ Gracie voiced. ‘But if you leave, then who will protect us?’

‘I’ll come back’ Shawn smiled at his sister. ‘I promise. I won’t leave you two alone for too long. You will be safe here, and you will cope just fine without me, I’m sure of it.’

Alice frowned at her son unconvinced. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘Nothing will happen to me’ Shawn said. ‘Honestly mother, you fuss too much. When do you plan to leave?’ he asked speaking to Farrell now.

‘I hadn’t a date planned yet, but soon. If you are absolutely sure you want to come, I will tell you before I leave. In the meantime, you have time to prepare.’

‘Then it’s settled’ Shawn said facing his mother and sister. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll be back before you know it.’

And with that, Farrell left the home, even more on his mind now than before he entered. He walked briskly, thinking of the thing in his pocket. Arlen’s letter to Alice and her children.

Over the next few days, Farrell began to make preparations. He sold his home, and everything inside that was left, including the painting of himself with his wife and daughter. He didn’t want to sell it, he would have brought it with him if he could, but Alastor had enough to carry already now. He was old, and with Farrell and his other meagre possession like clothes and food and other essentials, Farrell didn’t want to tire out the already weary animal. He had served Farrell well over the years in battle, and deserved an easy life. And so, when the time came, Farrell looked over his home one last time. Alastor was saddled and ready to go, carrying all the things that Farrell needed, including the money he had gained from selling his home. It was a handsome amount, and would see both he and his horse well care for, for many months to come.

Everything Alastor carried now, was everything Farrell had left in the world.

Farrell met Shawn outside his home; he was sitting upon his own chestnut stallion, waiting for Farrell and ready to go. He had said his farewells to his family, and as Farrell walked Alastor past, Shawn tapped his heels into the horse’s side to urge him on, walking beside Alastor. Shawn’s mother and sister stood side by side outside their home, watching the two leave and waving to them as they went.

As they reached the open plains, Farrell glanced one last time towards the small town he had spent nearly his entire life in. And then he turned his back. No longer would he feel regret and sorrow. Now he moved forwards, now he had a purpose in life.

He would find Amaia, alive or dead. He would find Amaia one way or the other, and solve the mystery of what truly happened on that terrible day, once and for all.