WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

Farrell groaned, opening his eyes tentatively and lifting his hand to this throbbing head.

‘It is morning?’ he grumbled.

Beside him Brice began to stir, moaning in agony at the pain in his neck as he had slept awkwardly. He gazed blearily about, squinting in the bright light. The two brothers were sitting on empty barrels outside the inn, and chickens were picking at the dirt at their feet.

‘Did we sleep here?’ Brice rasped, in a voice barely audible. ‘My mouth feels like it’s full of sand.’

‘Why have I got a bruise on my shoulder?’ Farrell asked his brother as he examined himself. ‘Did you hit me?’

‘Naw I think you fell over.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Me neither.’

Farrell leant forwards, finding his feet he stumbled, scattering the chickens as they ran in all directions. Farrell grasped his head now with both hands, doubled over and moaning.

‘How much did I drink?’

Brice beside him was cautiously trying to stand, holding onto the barrels around him for support. ‘We obviously had a great time’ he said.

Farrell opened his eyes, noticing a pair of delicate green shoes painted in flowers and ivy. He slowly lifted his head, seeing the owner of the shoes standing before him. The woman smiled kindly.

‘Mandy? Is that you?’

‘Hello Farrell’ Mandy beamed sweetly.

She was perfect. Not a single blond hair was out of place, tied up high on her head and held in place with flowers. Her makeup was lavish; she dressed extravagantly in dark colours and wore excessive jewellery that hung from her ears and wrists.

‘What are you doing here?’ Farrell grumbled.

‘I noticed you from far away’ she told them. ‘I thought I’d come over to see how your mother was doing.’

Farrell made a face, exchanging a glance with Brice.

‘Our mother?’

‘Our mother died nearly ten years ago’ Brice told her.

At hearing this Mandy pursed her lips, puffing herself up. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t know?’ Farrell asked her.

‘Your brother’ she spoke through gritted teeth, ‘told me she was unwell.’

Brice drew a sharp intake of breath, speaking to Farrell. ‘I think we just got Arlen in trouble.’

Mandy turned on her heel and stormed off, balling her fists and hunching her shoulders, muscles bulging as if she was ready to hurt something. Farrell and Brice stayed where they were for a moment, gathering themselves and trying not to be sick, when a short time later a panicked Arlen found them.

‘Oh thank the gods! There you are’ he gasped.

‘What have you been telling Mandy?’ Farrell said to him, with his head between his knees.

‘She’s just come to my house!’ Arlen fumbled. ‘Quick, you have to help me; I had to escape through the window!’

‘Why do you let yourself get in trouble like this?’ Brice glared at him.

‘I had to say something’ Arlen argued back. ‘I can’t get her off my back, she’s practically stalking me.’

‘Just tell her you’re not interested’ Farrell told him straightening up. ‘And she’ll leave you alone.’

‘I can’t, don’t you understand? If I do something like that, she’ll make the situation as messy as she possibly can! You know what she’s like; she hates not being the centre of attention. I can’t deal with that!’

‘Alright’ Farrell waved at him, trying to quieten him down. ‘Let’s go back to my place; then we can talk properly.’

‘Can we move quickly?’ Arlen asked glancing nervously around. ‘I don’t want to be spotted by her.’

Brice chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Arlen’s reaction.

‘Oh Arlen’ he sighed. ‘What have you done?’

Farrell’s house was built on the edge of the small town upon the lip of a hill. Built like a mansion, the place was grand. Two large fields sat either side of a wide path that stretched towards the manor. In the field on one side resided Farrell’s chestnut mares. In the other field roaming in the open space behind high fencing, was his newly acquired black stallion he had named Alastor, meaning ‘avenging spirit’. The stallion was whinnying and prancing around, being driven wild by the mares in season. Farrell nodded approvingly at him as he and his brothers went by.

‘You will sire many foals’ he told Alastor as the stallion raised his head, curling back his lips. ‘I will breed many horses just like you.’

‘How is he settling in?’ Brice asked him as he admired the creatures shining black coat.

‘Well enough’ Farrell smirked. ‘However he is easier to handle when the mares are not about.’

They reached the manor, before them stood a pair of solid wooden doors which towered high above their heads. Farrell groaned with effort as he used all his strength to open both doors at once, stepping into the entrance hall of his home.

Light flooded into the hall through the tall windows all around, lighting every surface. The glow from the sun outside bounced off the marble floors and stairs; the inside of the manor was almost as beautiful as the temple where Arlen prayed. But the home was not decorated with beautiful statues and pictures, but with weapons and armour.

Farrell closed the doors after them and turned to his brothers.

‘Right’ he said. ‘I suppose I should offer you a drink or something?’

A figure came rushing up to the three brothers then, an aging woman, wrinkled but still fit.

‘My lord Farrell’ she bowed respectively. ‘You’re home. Is there anything I can do or bring for you?’

‘Yes’ Farrell smiled.

‘No’ Arlen butted in loudly. His voice echoed around the hall.

Brice shot him a peculiar look.

‘I mean’ Arlen composed himself. ‘No thank you.’

‘Arlen’ Farrell sighed exasperated.

‘No’ Arlen interrupted again. ‘I don’t like being served like a cripple. I have legs to walk and arms to carry. I can bring my own drinks to myself if I need them. But thank you anyway Linda’ he nodded to the lady.

She bowed to him, but remained where she was until Farrell sent her away with a wave.

‘Thank you’ Farrell said to the servant, ‘you may go.’

She hurried off into one of the many rooms within the manor.

‘Arlen, why do you do this to me?’ Farrell asked his brother, touching his forehead and sighing wearily.

‘I don’t like servants’ Arlen replied flatly.

Brice next to him just shook his head, slack jawed.

‘Come on’ Farrell mumbled, leading the way to the kitchen.

He prepared a cup of coffee for each of them.

‘I’m surprised you know how to make this stuff’ Arlen said to him, sniffing the contents of his mug as if a little suspicious. ‘You let your servants do too much for you.’

‘They do do a lot for me’ Farrell admitted. ‘But that doesn’t mean that if they weren’t around I wouldn’t be able to function.’

‘You’re forgetting’ Brice told Arlen. ‘Our little brother has won wars. Heck, he’s even outshone me, and I’m older than him.’

‘Anyway’ Farrell spoke loudly. ‘Please change the subject, or else you’ll make me blush with your flattery.’

‘Yes.’ Brice sipped his drink. ’We were talking about how badly you’ve screwed up again…Arlen!’ He shot a glare at him. ‘You told Mandy our mother is alive?’

Arlen’s expression began to dampen.

‘She came over to ask us how she was doing’ Brice went on.

Arlen’s whole body began to sag.

‘What the hell did you say to her?’ Brice interrogated. ‘She looked furious.’

‘I um….’ Arlen hesitated.

‘Out with it’ Farrell ordered. ‘You may as well get it over with.’

‘I told her that our mother was senile and that she thinks that bats come out of her ears.’

‘You told her what?!’ his brothers spoke at once.

Arlen shrugged helplessly.

Farrell groaned, covering his face with a hand.

‘My poor aching head’ he lamented. ‘It’s too early in the morning for this.’

‘Why don’t you want her?’ Brice asked Arlen. ‘She’s a lovely girl.’

‘No!’ Arlen cried dramatically back. ‘I would never want to spend the rest of my life with a woman so stupid and gullible. I mean really…’

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The brothers all glanced at each other uncertainly.

‘Are you expecting someone?’ Brice asked Farrell.

‘No’ he answered, rising to his feet and marching towards the doors.

Farrell pulled back one of the heavy doors, seeing a young female figure standing before him.

‘Hello Sue’ Farrell blinked. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Is Arlen there?’ the lady asked him politely.

‘Yeah’ Farrell began turning back to the entrance hall from which the kitchen could be seen. ‘He’s right….’

Farrell only saw Brice sitting at the table, staring back at him.

’Where is he?’ Farrell mimed to Brice.

Brice simply indicated towards a window that was behind him, an open window. The curtains either side lifted in the breeze.

Farrell gave Brice an alarmed look. Brice simply shrugged.

Arlen ran as fast as he could away from the house. The brothers who remained in the manor stood before the window, watching Arlen growing smaller and smaller as he ran across the fields and into the horizon.

Brice returned to his own home later that day, and was greeted immediately by his wife.

‘Brice, my darling. Where have you been?’

He smiled to her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

‘I’m sorry Alice’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to stay out all night, but…’

‘I know’ she interrupted, patting his hair down lovingly. ‘Your brother must celebrate his promotion. He should be proud.’

Brice smiled at his wife again. ‘I’m so lucky to have you’ he told her. ‘You just…understand.’

‘Well’ she beamed, gliding back away from him. ‘What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t understand and look after my own husband? Oh…by the way I’ve made breakfast for you.’

Brice chuckled to himself. ‘You are too good to me woman.’

Striding towards him and heading for the door was his first and so far only child, Shawn.

‘What are you doing with that?’ Brice asked sternly, eyeing the bow Shawn held in his hand and the quiver of arrows at his back.

Shawn grinned slyly, clutching the weapon to his chest.

A handsome, tall and muscular boy of twelve, Shawn was the son every father dreamed of. Brave, confident, strong, he was a born fighter. He had gained most of his father’s traits, but had his mother’s blond hair, and was as mischievous in his youth as Brice had been in his. But he had a good heart. If Brice ever had to leave home, he would feel his wife would be safe, with Shawn to protect her.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Brice interrogated.

‘Father’ Shawn began. ‘I was just on my way out to meet my friends; we’re going out to hunt.’

Brice raised his finger in warning to him. ‘If I find out you’ve hurt yourself doing something stupid again I will be less than pleased. I don’t want to find any more unexplained stitches on you.’

‘So you’re saying that if I hurt myself I should hide it better?’

Brice clocked him over the back of the head. ‘Get out.’

Shawn rushed through the door without a backwards glance. Brice watched as his son mounted one of their chestnut horses tied up outside, kicking the beast into a gallop. He frowned as Shawn rode away, but his eyes grew gentle.

‘He is a good boy, is he not?’ Alice said.

‘He is’ Brice replied as he closed the door.

He turned to his loyal wife. ‘Alice. How have you been feeling?’

‘Well enough’ she replied simply, hovering towards him and taking him by the arm, leading him into the kitchen.

She brought him before the table, pulling back a chair and putting her hands upon his shoulders, she forced him down into the seat.

‘How did you know I was coming?’ Brice asked her as she placed a generous plate of food before him.

‘I didn’t’ she answered happily, swaying on the spot and hugging herself, clearly pleased with herself.

‘But you have all this food prepared for me.’

She leant forwards, elbows upon the table. ‘I always have food prepared for you.’ She kissed his cheek and floated away, singing to herself as she began to tidy.

She faltered suddenly, turning back to Brice. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’ Brice replied hastily.

He glanced about, taking in the rooms around him. His house was comfortable, but modest. Larger than Arlen’s, but smaller than Farrell’s, Brice was content with what he had.

‘Are you happy here?’ Brice asked his wife.

‘Happy?’ she repeated uncertainly. ‘Of course I am happy.’

‘Are you sure?’

She slid back towards the table, pulling up a chair beside Brice, she sat facing him.

‘Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden?’

Brice sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair and resting his head back.

‘It’s just Arlen.’

‘Ah’ she replied. ‘I see.’

‘I just worry so much for him. He wants so much from life, but…’ Brice shook his head. ‘He’s just so miserably all the time, so unhappy…it really brings me down.’

‘I know you care much for him’ Alice said, placing her hand upon his arm and squeezing. ‘But you cannot live his life for him. He makes his own choices, as do you.’

‘I know.’

‘And besides’ she continued, ‘you have your own things to worry about.’

Brice brightened at this, placing a hand upon her stomach.

‘I know, of course you’re right’ he laughed.

‘I know I’m right’ she flirted, leaning closer to him teasingly. ‘I’m right about everything.’

Brice laughed out at this, taking her in his arms and pulling her towards him. Alice squealed in delight, sitting upon his lap and hugging him. He finished his breakfast eating around her, as she refused to move from that point until his plate was empty.

Once his plate was clear, she took it away. With their son gone out, the two had the place to themselves.

‘Alice’ he breathed her name as he held her. ‘I love you.’

She held him back, hugging him tighter and humming joyfully to herself.

‘I love you too’ she replied, ‘my dear husband.’

Far away, hidden in a clutch of trees on the edge of the small town, was Arlen. Picking twigs from around where he sat and breaking them into pieces, throwing them one by one into the small pond before him. He watched the ripples in the water growing outwards from the point where the twigs had fallen.

The water otherwise was still. Arlen doubted anything lived beneath its surface. The water was murky, and stagnant.

Arlen broke another piece of twig, and threw.

It was many hours later that he risked returning to the town. Moving quickly and keeping his head down, he headed to the one place he felt the safest, the place he spent most of his time when in doubt. The holy temple.

He slipped through the large double doors, closing them quietly behind him. Arlen jogged down the long marble corridors. He glanced up at the stained glass at the end of the path that bore the depiction of the goddess named Micro, elevated in the sky with her single wing outstretched. Arlen entered the main body of the temple through one of the archways, letting out a deep sigh of relief at the familiar sights around him. He hardly noticed the incense anymore, the incense that both of his brothers found so overpowering. He bowed his head respectfully to a small group of holy women passing by, dressed all in white with their hair covered in white cloths. They each returned his bow, smiling kindly in recognition.

Arlen sighed again; shoulders sagging as his body relaxed. He felt happiest here in this place, more than anywhere else in the world. This temple was more his home than the building he slept in.

Arlen stepped forwards, moving at a gentle pace between the beautiful sculptures of the gods and goddesses around him, admiring each in turn. These were the seven gods that ruled the lands. The gods did not specialize in any single thing, but had small powers in every field. Each of the seven gods were needed to keep the world alive. Or so it was believed.

Arlen picked a statue at random, the goddess Ludas; a beautiful deity, clad in gold with a crown of blue feathers.

Arlen approached the statue, and knelt on the cushions before it. Thinking of what Brice had said to him the last time his brothers had visited him in the temple, he began to pray.

Please, my goddess Ludas, let me find the right woman. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.

The next day

‘Where is he?’ Farrell demanded of Brice.

‘I haven’t a clue’ Brice shrugged back. ‘I haven’t seen him since the other day when he escaped through your window.’

Farrell gritted his teeth in annoyance. ‘Dam him that fool. Doesn’t he know how important this is?’

Brice shrugged wordlessly back.

Farrell shook his head in exasperation, dropping the matter from his thoughts; instead he turned to address his men, tens of which were gathered around him.

‘Soldiers! Are you ready for battle?’

The host of men threw up their arms to cheer, weapons in hand. Horses tossed their heads and pranced on the spot, whinnying excitedly at the commotion.

‘There is a dock near here that’s been attacked by pirates’ Farrell called over their heads. ‘Let us rid our shores of this pirate scum, and send them back to the murky depths where they belong!’

Alastor reared dramatically as the soldiers around him roared in approval and anticipation of the coming fight. Screaming in fury the black stallion tore through the streets and out of the town as Farrell led the charge. The thunder of hooves upon the earth, even from a smaller band of riders would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies, as they rode with shields raised and swords held high. Many of the townsfolk who stayed behind cheered and waved as they departed, sending with them their prayers.

From above, upon a little hilltop on the edge of the small town was a man. Standing upon one of the many balconies of his ostentatious home, he watched as the band of about thirty men rode out of the town.

The Duke, a man called Bairn was a beefy man reaching into his fifties. Slowly balding with aging skin, his luxurious lifestyle had given him the large belly that came with rich meals and much drinking. He had moved to this quiet part of the map to retire from the harder parts of his work.

Many years ago he had married the daughter of a high lord; she was far younger than him, and a true beauty. Unlike her husband, she had kept most of her good looks as she aged, despite the fact that her life had been so wrought with grief. The many children they had had over the years, had dwindled in number. Now there were only three.

Bairn turned away from the balcony, returning to his home. He found his two remaining sons in the library. They were young men in their early twenties, sombre figures, both dressed all in pure black. One son was seated with a book on his lap, the other loomed before a bookshelf like a ghostly figure.

‘Where is your sister?’ Bairn spoke up, breaking the silence in the room.

His sons looked up. They both had dreamy expressions, and never seemed to concentrate on anything that didn’t grasp their interest for more than a few moments.

‘She is outside’ his eldest answered in a weak voice, barely audible. He returned his attention to the book on his lap.

‘She likes it outside’ the younger son replied, speaking to the books on the shelf before him. ‘She doesn’t like being behind these walls.’

The Duke frowned at his sons. ‘I suppose I needn’t have asked.’

He waited for a response from either of his sons, when none came, he left.

Bairn found his daughter within the garden, where she spent most of her time. The high walled garden at the back of the home was large with all manner of beautiful trees and flowers within. There were fountains where birds sang and bathed, small ponds where koi swam, and ornaments depicting the creatures that were not found within the garden, those that had not found a way to cross the wall. Creatures like foxes and dear and otters, even a tortoise, if you were observant and patient enough to find it.

His daughter stood with her back to him, singing the most beautiful melody. He paused for a moment to listen.

Soft and lyrical like heavens own chorus, her voice was perfect, and sweet.

Only when she was finished, did she turn and spot her father, though she did not look surprised to see him there.

Bairn smiled at her sweetly, stepping off the stone path and onto the neat grass of the garden before him.

‘Ramana’ he said.

‘Father’ she bowed her head to him respectively.

‘I’m sorry I’ve not spent much time with you lately’ he said to her. ‘I’ve been…’

‘Busy’ she finished. ‘I know. Doing dukey things, gathering taxes here, supplying armour there, it must all be very exhausting.’

‘Indeed’ Bairn finished dryly. He cleared his throat, pondering on how he should proceed. ‘Listen to me my daughter; you will not be a child forever. Tomorrow will be your eightieth birthday; then you can leave these walls and be free.’

‘I know’ she nodded.

‘You can come and go as you wish.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you not pleased?’

She bowed her head to him. ‘I wonder what waits for me out there. I feel a dark presence, that of which I cannot place.’

‘Are you frightened?’

‘Not frightened’ she replied, ‘merely…curious.’

‘I see.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘I just wanted to check that you are well.’

‘I am’ she replied curtly.

‘Well…good.’

‘There really is no need to worry about me father.’

‘There is every need’ he argued. ‘You are my daughter, the only one I’ve ever had. You are a treasure that must be guarded…and cherished.’ He dipped his head to her. ‘I must leave now; I’ve much to do…dukey things and all that.’

She smiled at him.

‘Right’ Bairn fumbled. ‘I will…just leave now.’ He waved awkwardly at her before strolling away, leaving Ramana alone once more.

She chuckled to herself as she watched him go, feeling a warmth growing inside her heart. She loved her father very much.

‘Tomorrow’ she sighed to herself. ‘A new dawn…’ she opened her hand, catching one of the many falling petals from the trees around her. ‘A new life.’

Farrell led the charge as his troupe of nearly thirty men descended upon the harbour.

The pirates who had begun to make themselves at home, clearly not expecting much resistance, or at least not so soon, were caught off guard.

Farrell made the first kill, swinging low his sword at an unsuspecting sail boy. The poor fool had not known what was coming.

The mounted soldiers tore through the harbour, killing all in their path that were not of their own. Within what felt like no time at all, the carnage was over, and any remaining pirates, those that had fled or hidden on their ships, were retained. The innocent bystanders who had been caught up in the attack rose to their feet now, others coming out of the buildings they had been hiding in, and all were cheering. Farrell ignored their calls and praise.

‘What should we do with the prisoners sir?’ one of his soldiers asked him.

Farrell cast his eyes down to the row of men that had been bound and forced on their knees. Thieves and cutpurses, liars and dishonest men, these were the dregs of human-kind. They were all dressed in tatty, weather-worn clothes that smelt like salt. Some of the men wore excessive and expensive jewellery that was no doubt stolen. There was even a young boy amongst them; he could not have been more than fourteen in age. Farrell held the boys fearful gaze for a moment, before turning his back on him.

‘We take no prisoners’ Farrell spoke back to his soldier, ‘especially of this type. Kill them.’

He walked away from the sound of cries cut short and throats being slit, not looking back.

‘We go home now?’ Brice asked Farrell, joining his side and walking with him.

‘Yes my brother’ Farrell smiled. ‘We go home, and we celebrate. We are done here.’

They returned to the small town in success. A brief encounter that was done and dusted in naught but a few hours, with all thanks to Farrell, as many would say. Farrell praised the men he led for their part, for none had been lost. Slowly the small band of soldiers separated once they reached the town, each going to their own homes, some to wives and children.

The sky was darkening, and the distant figures of men and women in the town going about their business were becoming nothing more than vague silhouettes. Brice walked with his brother, talking and smiling as they made their way slowly through the town. Recounting the finer point of the battle of this day and previous days, they spoke of politics, the king, and many things that would bore most women. They ambled beside their tired horses, passing a particular point in the town where women of the night liked to gather. A few of them hung around outside the only inn the town held. Farrell glanced sideways towards them. Two of the women caught his attention, both eyeing him up and down and batting their eyelashes seductively.

The two women were dressed in draping garments that revealed the side of their breasts, arms and when they walked, their legs. Their long hair was tied up and they both wore heavy make-up around their eyes, and painted tattoos running down their arms.

Noticing Farrell’s prolonged gaze they smiled simultaneously. Straightening up and strolling over to him, they each took him by an arm. Farrell grinned slyly.

‘My knight’ one of the women cooed. ‘What a long and tiring day you must have had.’

‘Come with us’ the other woman said in a purring voice. ‘We will help you relax.’

Farrell’s smile grew wider across his face as he surveyed both of the women with interest. He grabbed both of them suddenly around the waist, pulling them close to him.

‘Well’ Brice interrupted loudly at this point. ‘I suppose I had better be going.’

‘Awww, won’t you stay with us?’ one of the women said, sad to see him go.

‘Yes won’t you stay with us?’ the other repeated. ‘We could use the extra hands.’

‘I had better go’ Brice repeated. ‘Home. To my wife.’

‘We understand’ one of the women winked.

‘Come’ the other said, pulling Farrell away as he let go the reins of his horse. ‘We will put you at ease.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then Farrell’ Brice said loudly as he walked away, taking the reins of Farrell’s horse with his own as he went.

Elsewhere within the small town, within the temple, a man prayed.

Arlen knelt with his hands together and head bowed. Before the statue of the god Faeroe, the fox-eared man with a sweeping lizard tail. To him Arlen sent his prayers.

Please. My lord god. Give meaning to my life. Let me find the right woman, to love, and who would love me in return. Make her loyal. Make her honest. Make her pure. Make her a good wife to me, as I would be a good husband to her.

This is all I ask for.

The sun rose early the next morning. Ramana stood inside the tall walls that surrounded the manor in which she lived, standing before the great gates that led to the outside world beyond her home. The low sun at this time of day could not reach into the grounds, and Ramana was cast in a great shadow.

She reached for the tall gates, pushing forwards with all her strength; she heaved the heavy double doors open.

The sun’s touch spilled into the grounds, drowning Ramana in light. She regarded the new world at her feet, staring down at the small town before her.

Ramana took a step forward. For the first time she entered the world beyond the walls.

Farrell was rudely awoken by the sun glaring in his face. He opened his eyes, squinting and trying to shield himself from the light.

It was bright outside, far too bright for his liking. Farrell sat up, wondering what time in the morning it was. He saw the two women in bed either side of him, and remembered the events of the night before. They were both completely naked beneath the sheets they lay.

Farrell pushed the sheets back so that he could stand, and walking down the bed landed lightly on the wooden floor at the foot of the bed. The women behind him still half asleep frowned in discomfort at the cool morning air against their bare skin. Pulling the sheets back up again to cover themselves and keep them warm, they went back to sleep.

Farrell dressed, throwing several coins on the bed between the sleeping women; he left without a word or backwards glance.

Farrell returned home briefly, seeing that Brice had returned Alastor to his field before he had gone home the night before. He smiled approvingly at his brother’s kind action; then suddenly with a twinge of sadness, remembered Arlen. There was one place he was sure to be, but Farrell had an idea, and needed to do something before visiting Arlen in the temple, where he was sure to be praying.

Farrell entered his home to get some money, leaving shortly after and visiting one of the few shops in the town. Once he had purchased what he was looking for (or near enough as there was little choice in a town so small) he entered the temple.

Ignoring the beauty of the stained glass depicting the one winged goddess Micro, Farrell entered the main body of the temple, and sure enough, found his brother.

This time he was praying before the statue of the god Filis, a depiction of a young six-winged boy with long flowing hair and two long horns growing upwards from his head.

Trying to stifle his coughs at the overpowering smell of the incense that burned here, Farrell made himself known.

‘Brother’ Arlen said lifting his head. ‘You’re here.’

Farrell waved at the air before his face, trying to clear away the stuffy smell of the many scents that burned around him.

Arlen rose from his kneeling position, turning and facing Farrell. He immediately made an expression of disgust as he breathed in.

‘You stink of perfume’ Arlen told him.

‘How can you smell anything but the incense in here?’

‘You think the incense is overpowering?’ Arlen asked him. ‘Better than the cheap toilet water you’re laced with. You’ve been whoring again haven’t you.’

‘You say it like it’s a bad thing’ Farrell replied.

‘It is a bad thing’ Arlen said flatly. ‘It’s disgusting. Those women aren’t from around here. Who knows where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing.’

‘Anyway’ Farrell sighed deliberately, changing the subject. ‘I brought you something.’

He unfolded the bundle he had been carrying, and held it up for Arlen to see.

‘It’s a cloak’ Farrell explained.

‘I can see that.’

It was a beautiful garment, crimson in shade with vividly detailed patterns and swirls. It looked very expensive, and must have taken weeks to make by skilled hands.

‘I know you’ve been feeling down lately’ Farrell went on. ‘So I thought I’d buy you a gift to cheer you up. It’s not much…but…’

‘No it’s lovely’ Arlen said, feeling the material. ‘Thank you. It was really nice of you to think of me like that.’

‘Of course’ Farrell said. ‘You’re my brother. I care about you.’

Arlen took the cloak from Farrell, sweeping it over his shoulders and straightening up.

‘How do I look?’ he asked Farrell.

‘In that bright red?’ Farrell grinned. ‘Like a jester’

‘You flatter me’ Arlen replied in a monotone.

‘Listen, Arlen’ Farrell began. ‘I couldn’t help but notice that you missed the fight the other day. I can’t keep making excuses for you just because you’re my brother.’

‘I know’ Arlen sighed bowing his head. ‘I just…I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

‘I know’ Farrell nodded. ‘But still...’

‘You know they only compliment you because you pay them’ Arlen said, deliberately changing the subject.

‘Who?’

‘The whores’ Arlen replied.

‘I prefer to call them ladies of the night’ Farrell answered. ‘And don’t change the subject.’

‘I prefer to call them what they are’ Arlen finished. ‘Whores.’

‘Well’ Farrell said clapping his hands together. ‘I had better be on my way. I need some fresh air from this stuffy place.’

Farrell left his brother behind in the temple, heading home again. Along the way he was stopped by a figure, the Duke Bairn.

‘Farrell!’ the Duke called, hobbling he struggled to keep up with the soldiers brisk march. ‘May I have a word?’

‘Of course my lord’ Farrell replied respectfully as he turned back to face the man. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I just wanted to congratulate you on your promotion. I know that was a short time ago now, and I should have done it sooner…but I’ve been so busy with all the worries a Duke must suffer.’

‘I understand’ Farrell said, ‘and thank you for your concern my lord.’

‘And!’ Bairn added hastily as Farrell made to turn away. ‘Just one more thing’ the Duke went on, as Farrell turned back to him. ‘I wish to introduce you to someone. My daughter.’

‘Daughter?’ Farrell questioned. ‘I didn’t know you had a daughter.’

‘Few do’ Bairn admitted. ‘I’ve had many children…as you know. And I have lost many also. Over the years I have cared greatly for each, but my daughter…she is something special. Of all the children I’ve had, nearly twenty in number, I have only even had one daughter. Isn’t that strange?’

‘Most would consider so many sons a blessing’ Farrell told him.

‘Which I have’ Bairn replied. ‘But losing so many children takes its toll. I have become somewhat protective of her. I’ve kept her hidden, until she is ready to face the world outside.’

‘I understand’ Farrell nodded. ‘I perhaps would do the same.’

‘I want you to meet her’ Bairn repeated. ‘Can you spare a moment of your time for that?’

‘But of course’ Farrell said.

‘Wonderful’ the Duke cried joyfully, a great big grin crossing his face. ‘I’ll bring her over now.’ He turned, calling towards the corner of one of the houses. ‘Ramana!’

Farrell cast his eyes to the ground, expecting to see a young girl, a child. Instead, his sight was met with the lower half of a dress, coming from around the corner. He looked up, giving a slight gasp without realising it, as he gazed into the face of the Duke’s daughter.

She was spectacular. A woman of such celestial beauty, that a mere glance from her would set men falling at her feet.

She approached him.

‘This is Ramana’ the Duke introduced as she stopped beside her father. ‘She is eighteen now, a mature woman. She takes after her mother more than she does myself; but I’m sure you can tell that already’ he chuckled.

With such beauty unmatched, Farrell was at a loss at what to say as he gazed upon her magnificence. Radiant and stunning, her long silky black hair cascaded down to the bottom of her back. She wore a vivid red dress that ran across her shoulders.

Ramana took a breath. Her nose wrinkled as she smelt the perfume on Farrell.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you’ Farrell dipped his head, never taking his eyes from her.

She nodded back to him, thought did not speak, and nothing in her expression conveyed what she was thinking.

‘Ramana, would you excuse us for a moment?’ Bairn asked her kindly. ‘I wish to speak now with Farrell alone.’

Ramana bowed her head obediently, and silently she walked away from them.

Arlen was just leaving the temple at this time, walking with eyes down and staring at his own feet. He lifted his head, just as a woman was approaching him.

The world seemed to slow. Arlen turned towards the woman just as she passed him by, so near to him she was.

His heart stopped, his eyes grew wide, and his breath was completely stolen away.

He slowed to a stop, staring after her as she walked away. She did not acknowledge him, but seemed to be in a world of her own.

Arlen stayed rooted to the spot, frozen. He could not move.

‘Arlen?’

Arlen turned.

‘Are you alright?’ Farrell asked him. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

Arlen seemed to compose himself. He took a deep breath.

‘No’ he said. ‘Not a ghost.’

Arlen glanced back towards the direction he had been staring. ‘Tell me’ he said to Farrell. ‘Who is that woman?’

Farrell looked past him, and towards the small figure walking away in the distance. ‘That’s Ramana’ he told Arlen. ‘The Duke’s daughter.’

‘Daughter?’ Arlen tore his eyes away. ‘I didn’t know he had a daughter.’

‘Neither did I’ Farrell agreed, ‘until a moment ago.’

‘Where’s she been all this time?’ Arlen asked.

‘Under lock and key.’

‘What?’

‘The Duke has been very protective of her, she is his only daughter after all, and he has lost so many children in the past.’

‘Oh’ Arlen said, looking away again, but by that time Ramana was out of sight.

Arlen’s shoulders sagged. He then gave his full attention back to Farrell.

‘You mean he’s kept her locked away all this time?’

‘That’s what he said’ Farrell sighed, crossing his arms.

Arlen shook his head. ‘That’s so wrong.’

Farrell gave his brother a curious look.

‘To keep someone locked away their whole lives…’ Arlen went on, ‘it’s just….wrong.’

He was distracted from his thoughts however, when two women, who’s attention he had unwillingly attracted, sailed over to him.

‘Ooohhh’ the women cooed, flanking Arlen and running their hands up and down his body, admiring his princely features.

Arlen immediately tensed at this.

‘What a handsome man you are’ one of the women said.

‘Why don’t you come with us?’ The other woman said, nuzzling into his neck and stroking his clean-shaven face. ‘We’ll look after you.’

’We’ll make you feel special’ the other woman winked at him.

Arlen glanced at both of them, giving them a sceptical and confused expression.

‘It’s the middle of the day’ he said to them.

Farrell threw his head back and laughed.

Sometime later, when Arlen had managed to shake off both women, he followed the path Ramana had taken back to her home. But when he got there, he found the great gates to the Duke’s estate tightly shut. He stood before them for a moment as he contemplated, then went away to think. But he didn’t go to the temple, this time he wanted to be completely alone, away from even the holy women. This time he went to the forest, where it was quietest. And there he sat, and thought.