WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

The journey was to take about two days or thereabouts. On the first night, they camped deep in the woods, where their fire would draw little attention.

The band of men sat on the uneven ground around the fire, each minding their own business, eating or tending to the horses tethered nearby or warming their hands by the fire. Arlen sat the furthest away, with his back to the others, staring off into the woods where the firelight could not reach him.

More than once Farrell glanced his way, and he occasionally heard him mumbling to himself, often repeating the same thing.

‘She was so close….and I just missed her. By a day maybe? Or maybe a week? What happened to her? She was so close….’

‘So what’s the deal with you and him then?’

Farrell looked away from his brother, turning his attention to one of the mercenaries that had spoken. The first thing he noticed about this man was a great scar that covered one side of his face, a burn. It looked to be many years old.

‘I don’t do back stories’ Farrell answered flatly.

‘Oh I see’ the gruff old mercenary nodded. ‘That bad eh?’

Farrell arched an eyebrow at the older man, leaning away from him as the mercenary deliberately sat uncomfortably close.

‘I know you two don’t get along’ the mercenary went on. ’I hope there won’t be any problems along our journey.’

‘How do you know we don’t get along?’ Farrell asked him.

‘I was one of the men who pulled him off you’ the mercenary smirked. ’Did a good job on you he did. That arm will take ages to heal.’

Farrell glanced down at his arm, supported by a splint and resting in a sling. He felt suddenly self conscious.

‘He’s a good fighter that one’ the mercenary said nodding towards Arlen. ‘I recon it will be a good job fighting alongside one like him. You on the other hand, well I wouldn’t want you to slow us down.’

‘I’m a better fighter than him’ Farrell answered resentfully, glaring at Arlen and feeling hurt for what he had done to him.

‘Better? Ha ha!’ the mercenary cackled. ‘Not from what I saw. He kicked your arse he did.’

‘It’s true’ Farrell said irritatingly. ‘He never used to want to fight with me because he knew I would always beat him.’

‘So you were childhood friends?’

‘No we’re brothers.’

‘Brothers eh? So what happened?’

Farrell realised he had been tricked into answering as much as he had, and he quickly shut his mouth.

‘Suit yourself’ the mercenary snickered, seeing Farrell’s reaction. ‘I get it…you don’t do back stories. Just answer me this if you will. If you’re stronger than him then why did you let him beat you so good?’

‘He’s my brother’ Farrell replied. ‘I didn’t want to…..’

’Oh boy you must have done something really bad to piss him off that much’ the mercenary gleamed happily. ’Last I heard he wanted to kill you!’

‘Are you genuinely trying to make me feel better?’ Farrell snarled. ‘Or are you deliberately being an arse?’

‘So who’s that guy?’ the mercenary asked pointing at Shawn and ignoring Farrell’s question.

Shawn glanced up.

‘He’s….’ Farrell began. ‘His name is Shawn’ he finished.

‘Hello!’ the mercenary waved.

Shawn nodded back.

‘So who’s that then?’ the mercenary asked again.

Farrell, fed up now rolled his eyes and turned away.

‘I’m Farrell’s nephew’ Shawn explained. ‘He’s my uncle.’

’Oh I can just feel the love between you’ the mercenary said loudly, clapping his hands on his knees and gleaming eagerly from Farrell to Shawn, his cheeks rosy red.

‘Have you been drinking?’ Farrell mumbled.

‘Not yet. Ahaw haw haaaw!’

‘So what’s your name?’ Shawn asked him.

‘Call me Barrel. It rhymes with Farrell. Ahaw haw haw!’

‘Is that really your name?’ Shawn asked dubiously.

‘No’ Barrel sang back. ‘You don’t know us and so we can call ourselves whatever we like. Let’s see’ he said leaning back and looking over at the other five mercenaries. ‘That’s Carrot. That’s Blunkit. That’s Flunkit. That’s Woodworm and that’s Flute Stick.’

‘Why am I Woodworm?’ the one he had pointed to glowered in annoyance.

‘Oh come now Woodworm’ Barrel laughed. ‘Don’t be such a wet drip.’ He leaned towards Shawn, nudging him in the side and whispering very loudly. ‘Don’t get on the wrong side of him. He’s the serious one, and he couldn’t tell a joke if it stripped naked and danced in front of him.’

Shawn smirked back at the man, clearly amused.

‘You’re a strange one’ Shawn said.

‘Oh I’m going to sleep’ Farrell huffed loudly, rising quickly from his seat and grabbing his blankets as he went.

He found a spot away from the others, lying down on a relatively soft and even patch of earth to rest.

Feeling the gentle warmth of the fire against his back, he spared one last glance towards Arlen, who remained where he sat, before sighing deeply, and giving himself up to his dreams.

‘Find me…’

The next morning he woke early and abruptly, hearing the sound of food cooking behind him.

Rolling over he saw one of the mercenaries making his breakfast. Everyone else was still sleeping, save for Arlen. He was nowhere to be seen.

‘Are you hungry?’ the red haired mercenary asked Farrell.

‘Yes.’

The mercenary held out a plate for him, and Farrell took it, staring down at the sausages. He glanced up at the man.

‘Carrot is it?’ he asked.

‘Yes’ the mercenary nodded, speaking in a thick accent. ‘That it seems is to be my new name.’

Farrell nodded.

‘Is that food?’ came a loud voice. ‘Do I smell food?’

Farrell could not stifle a groan as Barrel woke suddenly, leaping to his feet and dashing towards the fire.

‘Sausages!’ he cried. ‘I love sausages!’

Beside Farrell, Shawn woke, groaning and rubbing his eyes, his brow furrowed at the disturbance.

‘What’s the noise for?’ he mumbled as he sat up.

‘Dammit Barrel!’ Woodworm snapped loudly as he sat bolt upright. ‘Can’t you keep your mouth shut for a bloody change?’

Carrot sighed as the two began to argue. Neither Blunkit, Flunkit nor Flute Stick seemed bothered by this as they rose, heading slowly to the fire and taking turns in cooking their breakfasts.

It was not long after that when Arlen returned, walking into the group; he ignored Barrel who struggled in a headlock, fighting to save his breakfast that Woodworm was trying to steal from him.

‘There you are’ Carrot voiced. ‘The man who never sleeps.’

‘We’re going’ Arlen declared.

‘Now?’ Shawn asked curiously. ‘Why so soon?’

‘I’m anxious to get there as fast as possible’ Arlen replied. ‘If this woman is really Amaia….I don’t want to lose her again.’

Farrell watched his brother as he spoke, thinking how strange it was that even out here, he applied the heavy black makeup around his eyes. He looked so different to the man he once knew, the scars, the beard, the broken nose…

Shawn yawned loudly as the group packed up their camp swiftly, loading up the horses and setting off with Arlen leading the way.

It was a full moon on the night they arrived at their destination. Blunkit and Flunkit went away to find an inn to sleep that night, and a short time later, Farrell was lying on his back on the bed in an unfamiliar room, staring up at the ceiling. Quickly through exhaustion, he fell into a deep sleep and began to dream.

‘Find me…’

When he woke, light was pouring into his tiny room. It was morning.

Farrell was ashamed to realise he had been the last to rise. By the time he had dressed and gone downstairs, the bar was silent, save for a lone figure quietly tidying one of the tables in the corner of the room. Farrell guessed her to be the barman’s daughter or some other close relation, she shared a striking resemblance to the tired-eyed man they spoke to the night before. He paid her no attention as he crossed the room, stepping outside into the bright day beyond the dim ambience of the inn behind him. It was already nearly midday, and every man and woman that Farrell saw from where he stood in the doorway moved swiftly. The place they had come to was a simple village, smaller than the home he once lived but built over a wider area. The people dressed in practical clothes, the women had their hair tied up, and the more that Farrell looked around him, the more he begun to feel homesick.

‘Farrell!’ called Shawn from nearby. ‘There you are.’

‘Where are the others?’ Farrell asked him as Shawn jogged up to him.

‘Don’t know’ he shrugged. ’They’re about somewhere looking for her. Danior said that she would be easy to find, he said a blind child could find her.’

‘You haven’t found her yet have you?’ Farrell answered flatly, guessing from the tone of Shawn’s voice.

‘No’ he shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

It was several hours later, nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, that Farrell and Shawn found themselves sitting upon a low wall watching the men and women in the field work. Farrell watched a young girl lifting a surprisingly large bale of hay and carrying it across the field without too much effort. Once she had put it down where she wanted, she turned to get another. Farrell thought then of what life could have been like if things had been different. Perhaps his daughter could have been that girl, and not the pampered little darling she had been raised as. He realised then that as long as he had known her, Amaia had never worked a day in her life, or done any work in any form for that matter.

He looked at the girl again.

She looked happy.

‘Here’ Shawn said to him, interrupting his thoughts as he passed Farrell a platter of cheese.

It was past lunchtime and the two were ravenous, having not eaten yet today. They shared a few meagre portions they had bought from the innkeeper, and had sat outside together to eat.

It was warm on this day, the air was humid. The longer Farrell sat where he was, the hotter he felt. He was just contemplating returning inside where it was cooler, when another voice interrupted his thoughts.

‘Ahoy there!’

Farrell turned scowling towards Barrel who was waving jovially at the two of them, the top of his head just visible over the wall he stood behind, his great scar shining in the sunlight.

‘What is it?’ Shawn called back.

‘Perhaps there is something here you would like to see’ Barrel answered back being deliberately cryptic.

Farrell’s initial annoyance at the sight of him instantly vanished to be replaced with hope and nervousness.

He rose quickly, leaving the platter of cheese on the wall and jogging over to where Barrel waited for them.

The two approached the wall, jumping over it to join Barrel on the other side who was smiling. Farrell glanced about him expectantly.

‘What?’ he demanded in annoyance.

‘Look’ Barrel breathed. ‘Over there, do you see?’

Both Farrell and Shawn surveyed the scene ahead of them, a medium sized field where there worked many. But Farrell noticed something strange. Standing on the edge of the field was a small crowd. They talked and muttered amongst each other, pointing to a spot in the centre of the field.

Farrell furrowed his brow curiously, glancing back to the field itself, and to those who worked within it.

And then he saw.

A young woman was standing with her back to him. She had long black hair.

Farrell swallowed back the lump in his throat, scratching his sweaty palms as he approached her slowly. As he did so, he was vaguely aware of another figure near him. It was Arlen.

The young woman half-turned, standing with her side to him and staring down at her hands as she did so. The pile of soil she held in her cupped hands changed, before his very eyes.

From the soil she held, grew flowers. Great twisting vines and bright coloured leaves and petals.

Farrell drew a sharp intake of breath, taking a swift step back uncertainly.

In the woman’s hands the plants grew, spilling over her fingers and pouring down to the earth, she smiled down warmly as she watched.

Good lords Farrell realised. She’s doing this!

One of the men in the crowd that watched at the edge of the field cried out.

‘Witch!’ he declared loudly striding threateningly towards her. ‘What sorcery is this?’

He was quickly seized by his companions who held him back, speaking hurried words to him to calm him down.

The woman, startled by this had dropped the handful of soil, and the plants she held in a matter of seconds withered and died. She had for the briefest moment been afraid, but had recovered quickly. One of the men that had watched bowed repeatedly to her, fumbling over his apologies for his friend’s behaviour as he showed the palms of his hands in submission.

The woman watched the small group as they dragged their angry friend away. A few others lingered, as if waiting to see what she would do next.

Farrell glanced back at her, remembering the words Danior had spoken.

I don’t know where she is, but I know that your daughter…I know she is unique.

‘This…isn’t possible’ Farrell mumbled to himself in disbelief. ‘Magic….doesn’t exist…it must be a trick…’

His heart jolted again suddenly, as he realised the woman was watching him.

‘Hello’ she said.

His words were caught in his throat, and for ages, he just stared at her.

The young woman slowly lifted her arms; holding herself as she began to avoid his gaze. Farrell realised he was making her uncomfortable.

‘I’m sorry’ he stammered. ‘I…I didn’t mean to….’

‘What do you want?’ she asked him, speaking harshly now.

‘I just….’ Farrell struggled to gather his thoughts and form them into a sentence.

He looked straight at her.

‘What is your name?’

‘My name?’ she repeated curiously. ‘Oh. It’s Annabel.’

His world came crashing down. He knees began to shake.

‘Has it always been Annabel?’ he asked her hopelessly.

‘Yes’ she replied, frowning at the absurdity of his question. ‘It’s all I’ve ever been known as.’

He let out a desperate sob, head descending into his hands. His body hunched over. He fell slowly to his knees, and began crying in the dirt.

Annabel stared down at him in wide eyed shock.

‘I don’t know what came over me’ Farrell was saying in a mumble. ‘I never really thought I’d see her again, but when I saw that woman….’ Farrell gritted his teeth. ’I thought…….gods……what if it is really her. But….’ He trailed off.

‘It’s ok’ Barrel sang happily, sitting on the wall behind him. ‘I too have felt the sting of grief.’

‘Have you?’ Farrell asked him uncertainly.

Barrel didn’t answer him; instead he began to laugh hysterically at nothing.

Farrell turned away from him in annoyance.

‘We shouldn’t lose hope’ Shawn told him, standing on his other side. ‘If Amaia is still alive, then she’s out there somewhere waiting for us to find her. We mustn’t give up.’

The other mercenaries sat nearby, even Arlen was there. A tender expression had crossed his face. Perhaps he felt some sympathy for his brother. Perhaps he felt like Farrell really did care after all.

Farrell glanced up at Arlen who stood behind him with his arms folded. Farrell dared to speak.

‘Perhaps I can mend the sins of the past.’

A dark cloud instantly descended upon Arlen. His muscles tensed, and his upper lip twitched in a sneer.

He glowered, and opened his mouth as if about to say something. But he quickly changed his mind, making a noise of disgust and storming off quickly.

The new and unfamiliar Arlen was back.

‘So’ Carrot the ginger haired mercenary said loudly, ‘what do we do now?’

‘I think he means where do we go from here?’ Woodworm the other mercenary interrupted. ‘What do you want us to do? You did hire us after all, and if we can no longer be of any use, then there’s no point of us being here.’

‘He’s right’ Flute Stick sighed, his accent was of foreign origin, like Carrot’s. ‘If we’ve well and truly hit a dead end, then we may as well move on and look for our next adventure.’

Blunkit and Flunkit watched Farrell expectedly, waiting for a response.

Farrell didn’t answer. Instead he ignored all their stares, even Shawn’s. He was deep in thought. Seeing Annabel gave him a flicker of hope to their seemingly hopeless quest, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he had found her. She did look a bit like what Amaia might have looked like; she even looked about the same age.

Amaia would be nineteen by now.

‘Well if you’re not going to give us any orders’ Woodworm declared, ‘then we will release ourselves from your service.’

The small group of six mercenaries began to disperse.

‘Wait!’ Farrell called after them in a sudden panic. ‘Don’t go. We might still need you.’

‘We’re not going to wait around for the seasons to pass’ Flute Stick smirked back at him, not even pausing in his strides. ‘We’ve travelled all this way for nothing. This is boring. This isn’t what we wanted.’

Farrell buried his face in his hands, fighting against yet another wave of despair that threatened to drown him. He forced himself to think clearly, forced himself not to give up again.

When he lifted his head at last, he found the mercenaries gone and that Shawn had left him.

He was alone.

Farrell returned to the inn, intending to go to his room and pack up what meagre possessions he had brought with him. A few basic clothes, some food, a few weapons, some pots and hunting equipment. Now everything he owned could fit into a few small bags. After his horse Alastor had been stolen, he had bought a few things he might need in his time in Dilston, using the money Arlen had given him. Now, the money was all but spent.

When he entered the inn he found to his surprise the six mercenaries sitting around one of the tables eating.

‘I thought you’d have gone by now’ he said to them.

‘Don’t be silly’ Blunkit scoffed. ‘We’ve got a long road to travel. We’re not doing it on empty stomachs. Don’t worry. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.’

Farrell turned his back on them, heading back outside. He thought to himself then. We don’t know where we’re going. I guess there’s no rush to leave. He lifted his gaze. The air around was beginning to cool as the day grew late, and slowly people were returning to their homes, the fields becoming empty.

Farrell saw a strange sight before him then, a man wearing dishevelled travelling clothes, sitting upon a white horse. The only people in this kingdom to have a white horse, were…

Royalty? Farrell thought incredulous. What on earth is he doing here?

The man appeared to be surveying the village before him, standing upon the lip of a small hill. He noticed suddenly Farrell staring at him. The stranger turned his horse around, tapping his heels into the beast’s flanks, sending it trotting away with a flick of its tail.

Farrell frowned after him, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach. Something didn’t feel quite right, upon seeing a royal white horse in a distant and seemingly unimportant village made him suddenly uneasy.

He retreated back into the inn, returning to his room where he sat upon his bed and brooded.

An hour or so passed, and when Farrell finally decided to get up, he noticed movement out of the window.

There were horses riding away. The mercenary’s were leaving.

He ran outside to join Shawn and Arlen as they watched them depart. Regret filled his heart as he watched the band of six slowly ride away.

Beside him Arlen heaved a heavy sigh.

Arlen straightened then, uncrossing his arms. Shawn became suddenly tense.

Farrell too heard several voices nearby. They were speaking in confrontation.

The mercenaries also were pulling their horses back; all of them staring off to the right, where something was going on.

‘What’s that?’ Shawn asked. ‘Hey wait!’ he said to Arlen as he rushed forwards towards the noise.

Shawn and Farrell followed instinctively. They ran to a section behind a wall, a scene lay out before them that was previously blocked from view.

It was Annabel again, and that strange man Farrell had seen earlier that day, the one upon the white horse. They were surrounded by a small group of soldiers.

The stranger seemed to be trying to reason with Annabel, who was becoming hysterical. The stranger then walked away; the soldiers around him on his order grabbed Annabel. They began to drag her.

In one swift movement, Flunkit had drawn his bow, killing one of the soldiers in one shot.

‘Ah shit’ Farrell said.

Without a second thought Arlen and Shawn had charged forwards with swords raised, Farrell’s pleas for them to stop fell on deaf ears as nearby; the mercenaries wheeled their horses around and rode towards the soldiers, weapons at the ready. The stranger who had walked away paused to stare back with indifference as his men were attacked.

The soldiers in their confusion hesitated in their retaliation, and suffered for it. In a matter of mere seconds the soldiers were all dead and the stranger who had commanded them looked on silently, he stayed rooted to the spot. Annabel cowered at the feet of the tall horses the mercenaries rode around her; she had her head buried in her arms and was too frightened to look up or even move.

‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ the stranger asked boldly, with not a hint of fear in his voice at the armed men that vastly outnumbered him.

‘Perhaps you should make yourself scarce’ Woodworm suggested to him, leaning confidently forwards in his saddle, ‘or else my friend here might be tempted to put a nice long arrow between your eyes.’

Flunkit still held his bow, relaxed, but indeed with an arrow in place ready to fire. Barrel began to cackle for no apparent reason.

The stranger hesitated, looking from one face to the next as he surveyed them. He was remembering each of the men.

And then his sight fell upon Farrell. A strange expression crossed him, as if he recognised Farrell, but couldn’t remember from where.

‘Are you deaf man?’ Arlen asked him. ‘Leave now or die.’

‘You’ve made a huge mistake’ the stranger spoke casually to all of them. ‘You’re stuck with this girl now’ he indicated Annabel. ‘She will be hunted, and now…so will the rest of you.’ He whistled loudly then; and from over the hill came trotting towards him a white stallion.

The six mercenaries, Arlen and Shawn all stared in shock and disbelief, jaws hanging and eyes wide.

The stranger quickly mounted his steed, speaking brief words to all of them before leaving.

’We will meet again.’

And then he was gone.

Flute Stick was the first to break the silence.

‘Fuck….’

‘Oh my god’ Carrot said. ‘Was that the frikkin prince?!’

‘What’s he doing here?’ Blunkit worried.

Farrell rounded on them suddenly.

‘Why did you do that?’ Farrell demanded of Flunkit. ‘Why did you kill that soldier and provoke an attack?’

‘I don’t know’ he shrugged carelessly. ‘I didn’t really think.’

‘Didn’t think?!’ Farrell hollered. ‘You idiot!’

‘We’re hunted now apparently’ Arlen told them all, speaking with a casual air as if it didn’t really matter.

‘And now we’re stuck with this girl?’ Woodworm asked.

‘Apparently so’ Flunkit added.

The young woman still cowered beneath them. The others managed to hear a few brief words she mumbled under her breath.

‘Please……don’t hurt me….’

‘He’s sure to be back soon’ Shawn told the rest of them. ‘What do we do?’