Chapter 23: The Tired Men
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Arlen’s shoulders tensed. He placed his hands slowly down upon the table he sat at, fingers splayed. He rose slowly.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Farrell repeated. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you already knew where she was?’
‘Because it was none of your concern’ Arlen spoke slowly to the wall.
‘None of my concern?’ Farrell repeated. His blood began to rise. He balled his fists. ‘She is my daughter.’
‘Is she?’
Arlen turned to face him. His expression was dark. His eyes full of hatred.
‘I spent one last night with Ramana, the night before you married her, and exactly nine months later she has a child.’
The corner of Farrell’s eye twitched.
‘Did you make love to her on the night you were married?’ Arlen asked his brother.
‘Yes.’
‘Then either one of us could be Amaia’s father.’
Farrell had suspected as much. The possibility had always been obvious to him, resting at the back of his mind. He had known Ramana had loved Arlen before she had loved him, and he had suspected Arlen might be the father based on how he behaved, the way he always watched from a distance as Amaia grew. He had always known, but to have the fact spoken so openly……it felt almost like a betrayal.
‘She is my daughter’ Farrell said harshly. ‘I cared for her……raised her.’
‘You failed her.’
‘I did everything I could!’
‘No’ Arlen said shortly. ‘You didn’t.’
‘Well if you know already where she is, why haven’t you found her already?’
Arlen’s eyes flashed.
He punched Farrell hard right in the face. Farrell fell back, caught by surprise.
Arlen grabbed Farrell by the shirt, shaking him and snarling like a wild beast.
‘You think if I could save her I would have done so by now?’ he growled. ’You think I’ve just been wasting all these years? While you drank and let your life fall to ruins all around you, simply assuming she was dead….I never stopped looking….not in twelve years!’ he drew a long cruel knife from his belt, raising it above his head with the point facing his broth. ‘NOT IN TWELVE YEARS DID I STOP!’
Farrell saw the flash of steel, blocking the attack just in time. His arm shook as he struggled to push back the blade. He drew his head back, head butting Arlen hard. Arlen stumbled back, holding his bleeding nose. Farrell grabbed the nearest thing at hand which happened to be a chair, swinging it as hard as he could towards Arlen, and knocking him off balance.
Arlen dropped the knife.
Farrell threw a punch towards Arlen, but Arlen caught his fist. In one quick move Arlen threw Farrell to the floor, kneeling beside him and cracking his arm over his knees. Farrell screamed in pain as his arm snapped. He grabbed onto Arlen, stopping his fist in the air as he made to hit him again.
Farrell’s cries however had drawn attention, and seconds later, Shawn burst into the room.
‘Arlen!’ he called out in shock, grabbing him and pulling him off Farrell.
But Arlen was stronger than him, and Shawn could not hold him back for long.
Farrell crawled away from his brother, using the distraction that Shawn had given him; he rose to his feet, facing Arlen again. Arlen had managed to break free of Shawn’s hold, and Shawn had quickly vanished, back through the door to get help.
Farrell charged forwards, lunging for the knife Arlen had dropped. But before Farrell could grab the knife, Arlen had reached for the nearest thing at hand, a medium sized statue of the goddess Ludus, made of solid stone. Arlen swung the statue, hitting Farrell hard across the head. Farrell was knocked to the side. He fell, dazed as his mind wavered, he fought to stay conscious, suddenly unaware of anything around him as the pain in his head blinded him to all else.
He felt his shoulder being jerked as he was rolled onto his back.
Arlen knelt over him, sitting on his chest and breathing fast, his chest rising and falling quickly from pure rage and hatred as he stared down at Farrell.
He gritted his teeth, raising shaking hands towards Farrell.
He grabbed his throat, and began to squeeze.
Farrell’s eyes widened as he realised was his brother was doing.
Arlen tightened his grip further, his wild eyes wide and crazed as he stared unmoved down at his brother as he began to struggle. Arlen felt nothing inside him as he watched his brother’s life slipping away, nothing, but determination.
Farrell fought hard to stay alive. He grabbed his brother’s hands, trying to free them from his throat, and ignoring the burning agony shooting though his broken arm. Farrell thought he was going to die, he was sure of it. But then suddenly Arlen was being pulled back off him. Neither brother had noticed the door slamming open again and the bodies pouring in, so fixed was each on the other.
Arlen fought against the hands that pulled him back, calling out in defiance as the many soldiers pulled him away from Farrell as Farrell immediately rolled onto his side, coughing and gasping violently.
‘THIS ISN’T THE END!’ Arlen screamed at him. ’I WILL KILL YOU! AND NEXT TIME YOU’LL STAY DEAD!’
Farrell glanced up at him. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments as Arlen was dragged from the room by the men, and for the briefest of moments, Farrell saw the devil himself in his eyes. It was pure loathing. Hate had destroyed his brother, had created him into this monster. The man, who had once risked his life for him, now wanted him dead.
It frightened him.
It frightened him to see Arlen so different, so corrupt……so full of hatred.
Arlen… Farrell thought to himself as men began to mill around him. You died that day. That day I lost Ramana and Amaia……I lost you too.
Shawn was on his knees beside him, shaking him and speaking to him, but Farrell heard none of his words.
His slumped, allowing his body to relax as he slipped into unconsciousness, a sleep so deep, that nothing could bother him.
He woke sometime later in an unfamiliar room. Turning his head to the side gingerly, then to the other side, he saw that he was alone in this place.
It was many hours before Farrell received visitors of any kind. First there was a woman. She introduced herself as a healer, checked on his injuries and his broken arm, which had now been put in a splint, and quickly left. It was a considerable time after that which Shawn appeared.
‘Where have you been?’ Farrell asked him as he took a seat beside Farrell’s bed.
‘I’ve been talking to Arlen’ Shawn replied uncomfortably. ‘He’s still…angry.’
Farrell turned his head away.
‘What happened?’ Shawn asked Farrell. ‘Why were you two fighting?’
Farrell looked back at Shawn.
‘I’m not sure’ he replied. ‘I…I think I said something…’
‘What did you say?’
‘I…’ Farrell began, struggling to cast his mind back. ‘I can’t remember.’
Shawn let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair.
‘What’s going on?’ Farrell asked Shawn. ‘Why were you gone for so long?’
‘I was talking to Arlen’ Shawn repeated. ‘He was…’ he broke off, falling silent for a moment. ‘It took me a long while to convince him not to leave. He says he knows where Amaia is, and that he doesn’t need your help to find her.’
Farrell’s heart sank as he heard the words, listening to Shawn as he continued to talk.
‘I managed to convince him to stay. At the moment he’s gone away. But he will be back.’
‘Where’s he gone?’
‘He said he’s hiring mercenaries.’
‘Mercenaries?’ Farrell repeated. ‘For what?’
Shawn shrugged.
‘Shawn….did Arlen tell you where he thinks Amaia is?’
Shawn hesitated, before answering. ‘I…he did.’
‘Then where is she? And why if he knows where she is hasn’t he already got her?’
Shawn shook his head. ‘I don’t…I mean I trust him but…..it just seems so farfetched….’
‘What did he say?’ Farrell pressed, unable to keep his voice from rising. ‘Where is Amaia?’
‘He says….’ Shawn began; ‘he says she is in a safe place…that she…..’ he went silent again.
‘Who has her?’ Farrell urged. ‘Please tell me.’
‘He says’ Shawn went on, ‘that she is being held captive by a member of the royal family.’
‘The king?’ Farrell asked incredulous. ‘But…how?’
‘Not the king’ Shawn corrected, ‘but one of his sons.’
‘A prince?’
‘Hmm’ Shawn frowned thoughtfully, before shaking his head. ‘I don’t know. I mean I trust Arlen….but….I don’t know. Maybe he’s mistaken.’ He shook his head again. ‘This makes no sense, how can one of the princes have Amaia, and why?’
‘What possible reason could one of the princes have to kidnap my daughter?’
‘I don’t know’ Shawn shrugged. ‘Assuming it was really is a prince who is responsible.’
‘Do you believe it?’
Shawn shrugged again. ‘It seems unlikely. But I trust Arlen, and until I find out otherwise, then I will believe he is telling the truth.’
‘Then so will I’ Farrell added. ‘I’ve never known Arlen to tell a lie.’
Shawn rose from his seat.
‘Where are you going?’ Farrell called after him.
‘To see if I can find Arlen again’ Shawn replied, pausing with his hand on the doorframe. ‘I need to convince him to let both of us accompany him in his search. He wants to leave you here.’
And with that, Shawn left, and Farrell remained where he was, feeling more alone and helpless than ever.
The next day, Farrell left the healers, his broken arm bound in a cast. He had questioned the young man who had tended him how long it would take to fully heal. His answer was not satisfactory.
‘The men are waiting for you in the meeting room’ the healer had told him.
‘The men?’
‘Gathered by Arlen’ the healer explained. ‘You are bound to set off on your journey soon.’
Farrell strode down the corridor, opening the double doors at the end. They were made of dark wood and painted gold in decorative patterns. The room inside was large and well lit. Farrell spotted Shawn sitting at the oval table in the middle of the otherwise empty room, around him were seated many other men, older and shady looking characters. Farrell guessed them to be the mercenaries.
‘What is this?’ Farrell asked.
‘Come sit’ Shawn invited. ‘We were just about to begin our talks.’
‘What talks?’ Farrell asked taking the only remaining seat beside Shawn.
‘Our plans’ Shawn replied, ‘of getting Amaia back.’
Farrell glanced around the room. ‘Where’s Arlen?’
’He’s left already.
‘Left?’
‘He’s travelling to our destination. He said he would wait for us there. He wanted to leave as soon as possible.’
Farrell felt strangely saddened by this.
‘These men’ Shawn explained, answering the next question Farrell was sure to ask. ‘They were hired by Arlen to help us with our task.’
Farrell cast his eyes at the people around him, there were about twenty in total. Many of them were thickset and battle scarred, one was missing an eye, but hadn’t bothered with an eye patch, another had a large mask that covered half his face, as if hiding a terrible wound.
‘Cheery bunch’ Farrell murmured under his breath. ‘So what’s the plan?’ he asked in a louder voice to Shawn.
‘We fight’ growled one of the mercenaries, banging his fist on the table.
Farrell waited for the man to elaborate, but he didn’t.
Shawn beside him cleared his throat.
‘Our destination is far from here, we will travel there swiftly. The horses are ready to go immediately.’
‘And where do we go?’ Farrell asked Shawn.
‘The place doesn’t exactly have a name. Its east of here, I can’t really describe it. Arlen showed me on the map where it is. I can take us there, I can lead the way.’
‘And what will we do when we get there?’ Farrell went on.
‘Arlen believes the prince has built a special place in order to conceal Amaia’ one of the nameless mercenaries spoke. ‘He believes she has been imprisoned at this place for a long while now, since she was taken.’
‘Has he been there before?’ Farrell said to the mercenary.
‘Arlen tells us he has been there many times. He has watched the place, scouted it. He knows the layout well he has told us, he knows where to attack, and where the guards are.’
‘Guards?’
‘The place is well guarded’ another mercenary said. ‘Day and night, around the clock.’
‘For Amaia? But….why?’
‘We don’t know’ Shawn interrupted. ‘But think of it this way, if the prince is going through so much trouble to protect her, well…’ he shrugged. ‘She must be well cared for.’
‘But why would he care so much for her?’ Farrell asked Shawn.
‘Who knows?’ he shrugged again.
‘The plan is’ the same mercenary spoke again to Farrell, ‘we surround the place, wait for Arlen’s command, then attack.’
‘Why is there need to fight?’
‘You’ve already been told’ the mercenary replied shortly. ‘The place is guarded.’
‘And you believe these guards will fight back?’
‘They won’t have much of a choice’ the mercenary smirked.
‘There won’t be much of a fight’ another mercenary answered. ‘We will move swiftly, and eliminate all threats quickly. That is our job. Once it is over, we will look for the next one.’
‘So you will stick with us as long as you get paid?’ Farrell droned.
‘We’re only being paid very little.’
‘Really?’ Farrell asked. ‘Then why are you helping us?’
‘We’re bored’ said another mercenary.
Farrell thought suddenly how he would struggle to tell these men apart.
‘Bored?’ he said.
‘Life’ the mercenary said taking out a pipe, ‘has become…’ he sighed. ‘…so boring…’
‘Why aren’t you in the king’s army?’ Farrell asked.
‘We’re too old to be accepted by him any more’ the mercenary replied as he lit his pipe. ‘You should know that.’
‘So you look for jobs where you can?’
‘Whenever we can’ the mercenary’s eyes glinted at Farrell as he spoke. ‘Don’t worry. We know battle; we’ve all done many missions, of many different kinds. If your daughter is in that building’ he said lifting the pipe to his lips, ‘we will get her back.’
‘And if she’s not?’
‘Then we will follow you until you do.’
‘And then find the next job’ the man beside Farrell spoke up. ‘Life has become….so boring.’
‘So when do we leave?’ Farrell asked.
‘When you feel like it’ came the answer.
‘Now?’
The mercenary he spoke to nodded. ‘Now’ he repeated.
The figures in the room rose and began to file out.
‘How’s your arm?’ Shawn whispered to Farrell discreetly, hanging back.
‘Fine’ Farrell replied sulkily, ‘but it will take a while to heal I’m afraid.’
Shawn nodded. ‘Come on’ he said to Farrell. ‘We’d better get going.’
It was not only Amaia that Farrell thought of as he left the room with the others, it was Arlen also. Where was he now? And how much did he really know?