WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

It took many days of slow travel to reach the other side of the cave, and the journey was long and arduous. In the time it took them to get there, their supplies had dwindled. Barrel was becoming insufferable and annoyed everyone, especially Woodworm. All of them were getting tired of the dark, and Annabel was becoming weary with summoning fire all the time. It was of little effort to perform this spell, but to keep it up for many hours was exhausting her.

When Blunkit told the others their food had run out altogether, Barrel had begun to laugh uncontrollably causing Woodworm to lose his temper and wrestled him to the ground. Woodworm then proceeded to attempted to force several different objects in his mouth to shut him up, one of which was a frying pan.

The next time the group lay down to rest, Flute Stick had woken up screaming and thrashing in terror. Carrot rushed over to him, it took several seconds to calm him, but eventually Flute Stick relaxed.

Flute Stick didn’t sleep much after that, none of them did. When they did at last see the first glimmer of natural light, it was a wonderful feeling for all of them, even the horses seemed relieved. Barrel ran ahead of the others to stand in the fresh air, he lifted his head high, the wind ruffled his hair, the sun shone off the scar that covered half his face. All of the others increased their steps as they neared the mouth of the cave.

‘Oh it feels good to breathe the fresh air again’ Shawn sighed when he had stepped out into the sun.

Seeing their arrival a figure stepped out from the bushes to join them, smiling widely. It was Flunkit, and he was carrying bags full of food.

The group stopped to rest near the entrance of the cave. The first thing that Arlen did when they sat down; was to apply the dark paint around his eyes again.

For some reason this deeply saddened Farrell, and as he watched his brother change before him, he couldn’t help but feel that Arlen did these things to hide. From others and from himself, like a mask to face the outside world. Even the beard Arlen had grown looked odd to Farrell, and he didn’t think it suited Arlen, not at all.

It was evening, and the sky would be growing dark soon. Shawn went off to find firewood, while the others continued to gorge themselves on food.

Arlen sat away from the others as usual, resting on the other side of the shallow river they had come to.

‘So’ Barrel sang merrily around a mouthful of food. ‘What happens when we find Amaia?’ he asked the two brothers loudly. ‘Who will take her home?’

‘I will take her and keep her safe’ Arlen spoke up automatically.

‘The fuck you are.’

Arlen very slowly turned his head towards Farrell, expression level.

‘She will be safer with me’ Arlen said.

‘I raised her. I’m her father. She’s staying with me.’

Arlen rose to his feet, his hand on his weapon.

‘You have already proven once you are not fit to care for her. I won’t allow that mistake to happen again.’

‘Won’t allow?’ Farrell scoffed. ‘You have no say in anything concerning her.’

Arlen hunched his body suddenly, a raging inferno rapidly burning within him.

‘No say?!’ he repeated trembling with fury. ‘I have more say than you deserve!’

Farrell took a step back. The expression that Arlen wore now could be described as no less than demonic. The hatred within him was like nothing Farrell had ever seen before.

‘You are not my brother’ Farrell shook his head. ‘My brother would never act this way, speak this way or chose to paint himself this way…my brother died a long time ago. You are nothing but his shell. You are someone else. I do not know you.’

Arlen smiled then. A crooked and evil smile. His muscular hard like rock, his broken nose and the scars that lined his flesh all showed of the past battles he had fought, the hard life he had endured.

‘Kill me then’ Arlen snarled, ‘and I will try to do the same to you.’

Farrell slumped his shoulders, slowly drawing his sword, resigned to his task.

‘Very well’ he spoke with regret. ‘Now, one of us will die.’

Arlen drew sword swiftly from his sheath, causing it to sing.

The brothers slowly approached each other, weapons at the ready. Farrell wading into the knee-high river, Arlen descending the slop of the hill on the other side and heading towards the water, fixated on Farrell as he moved forwards.

‘Isn’t anyone going to stop them?’ Annabel urged the others, voice trembling.

‘Why?’ Flute Stick asked flatly. He had stopped what he was doing to watch the two figures about to fight; the other mercenaries had done the same.

‘They will kill each other’ Annabel cried.

‘So?’ Carrot replied.

Barrel rested his chin on his hand, sniggering to himself gleefully.

Farrell and Arlen struck their first blow, swords clashing in the air.

Annabel turned on her heel and ran into the woods. None of the mercenaries paid her any attention as she fled.

‘Shawn!’ she called desperately, running in the direction he had gone.

Stumbling over hidden roots and fallen trees, she cut her knees and tore her dress, but still forced herself onwards until she was out of breath. She did not stop running, and did not stop calling, until she found him.

‘What is it?’ Shawn asked her urgently, seeing the distress and fear in her.

‘They’re fighting’ Annabel gasped, unable to say anymore, doubled over with her hands on her knees. ‘They’re fighting.’

Shawn dropped the firewood he had collected, grabbing her by the wrist and running back to camp, Annabel was dragged after him, struggled to keep up.

Arlen had been disarmed. He rounded on Farrell, eyes bloodshot red with pure rage. He grabbed the blade with his bare hands before Farrell had a chance to swing. Farrell instantly drew the sword back, blood from Arlen’s fingers showered down into the river below, staining the water. But Arlen didn’t even seem to notice. He stepped towards Farrell dangerously, unarmed, without armour. He was fearless. But this time Farrell did not hesitate. He made a start towards Arlen with the intention to strike him.

Arlen charged forwards to meet him, grabbing the pommel of Farrell’s sword before he could strike and in one swift action, twisted the hilt out of his grip before he had a chance to swing it. But instead of using it to kill him, Arlen threw Farrell’s sword away into the waters. Farrell would never find it in time to protect himself. Arlen now fought in a way that had become most familiar to him over the years. He fought with bare flesh, a savage and brutal way that was born of the streets, in close combat, with no honour and no rules. Arlen rained blows down upon Farrell, Farrell staggered back until he chanced the moment he was able to duck quickly, and grab a rock from the river bed. Lifting it high he cut across Arlen’s temple, causing him to see stars. Dazed, Arlen stumbled. Farrell took his chance, tripping him, and throwing him into the water.

Farrell pushed down hard, keeping Arlen below the surface. His brother’s face staring back at him from below the water as he struggled to free himself from Farrell’s weight. Seconds passed, and Farrell could see Arlen beginning to panic now as he slowly ran out of breath. He let go of Farrell’s arms, instead fumbling on his person, perhaps looking for a weapon in which to defend himself. But he would never find one in time to save himself.

Arlen would have died, had there not been one to intervene.

Shawn suddenly grabbed Farrell from behind, pulling him back. Farrell tried to pull away from him, attempting to lunge forward, hands pawing at the air to get to Arlen again.

’Let go of me! He snarled. ‘I have to kill him!’

‘At what cost?’ Shawn hollered back still holding him.

Arlen sat up quickly, breaking the surface of the water and drawing a deep gasp of air. He would have lunged for Farrell had he been able. Had he been able, he would have attacked Farrell at the first opportunity. But something held him down. Vines that had grown up from the earth and through the water suddenly and swiftly wrapped themselves around his arms and legs as he made to stand. There were many of them, and he couldn’t pull away. Arlen’s attention shot to the river bank, where Annabel stood.

‘Don’t struggle’ Annabel told him calmly, ‘you won’t break free.’

‘Farrell’ Shawn gasped, still holding his arms back. ‘I’m going to let you go, please don’t hurt him.’

Farrell’s shoulders heaved, chest rising and falling as he drew deep breaths, exhausted from the fight and rage he had endured.

Behind him, Shawn slowly relaxed his grip, and let go. Annabel too withdrew her power, and the vines retreated back into the earth they had come from. Arlen slowly rose, glaring daggers at Farrell, his eyes still bloodshot red. Farrell returned his steady gaze.

‘What has gotten into you two?’ Shawn demanded.

‘This new person is an insult to the brother I once knew’ Farrell replied flatly.

‘You are the insult’ Arlen countered in a deadly whisper, his voice shaking in anger. ‘You’re a failure as a father and a husband and a brother.’

‘So you try to kill each other?!’ Shawn cried out desperately, looking from one to the other. ‘Is that what Amaia would want?’

Farrell and Arlen remained still, each locked in stares.

‘Think of how Amaia would feel if she realised she has lost yet another?’ Shawn snapped angrily. ’She needs both of you now more than ever. She has already suffered enough.’

Farrell and Arlen still did not move.

‘Please’ Shawn groaned, voice quieting now. ‘Enough…’

Arlen turned on his heel and strode away through the water, walking away. Farrell in turn relaxed, taking a step back.

‘Good lord’ Carrot said in his thick accent as he stitched Arlen’s flesh back together where the sword had cut the inside of his fingers. ‘It’s a wonder you didn’t lose them altogether.’

‘Or how you were able to carry on fighting’ Blunkit added, handing Carrot a roll of bandage.

Arlen sat quietly as the two worked on his injuries, sowing together the deep gashes and tending to his other wounds. He didn’t flinch as the needle passed through his skin again and again.

A distance away from him Farrell sat. He could already feel his throbbing body coming out in bruises where Arlen had beaten him, and a quick exam had revealed that he had re-broken his arm. He hadn’t even noticed the pain of all his aliments at the time, but now, they came at him in full force.

Farrell grimaced, jerking his leg back as Annabel applied some ointment to a deep cut on his thigh.

‘I’m sorry’ Annabel replied meekly. ‘Flunkit said this might sting a bit, but it would make you better.’

She pressed the damp cloth to the seeping wound again, and this time, he didn’t flinch.

‘Are you alright?’ Shawn asked him quietly, sitting next to him.

‘Hm’ Farrell replied, feeling thoroughly depressed.

‘I’ve been speaking with the others’ Shawn went on. ‘We’ve decided to head to Hexham. It’s the nearest town from here, the others want to stop and rest and gather food and supplies. Besides, I think Annabel needs a decent place to sleep at least for one night.’

She glanced at him, smiling gratefully.

‘We’re leaving soon’ he told Farrell briefly, before getting up and moving away.

A short time later, and they were slowly making their way upstream to the town of Hexham.

‘Why do you two fight so terribly?’ Annabel asked Farrell beside her as he walked alongside his horse. It was rocky in this area beside the river, so the group made their way on foot, leading the horses beside them.

Farrell sighed, glancing forwards at Arlen who walked ahead of them.

‘He is angry for what I’ve done.’

‘And what have you done?’ Annabel asked.

‘It was my negligence that put us in this mess in the first place. If it wasn’t for me, I could still be living in my old home, with my wife by my side, my daughter, and perhaps more children. But…’ he broke off.

‘What happened?’

‘My wife was murdered, on the same day my daughter was stolen.’

Annabel’s eyes grew wide. ‘You are looking for her. That’s why you came to my village.’

‘You have the same long dark hair she had’ Farrell said turning to her. ‘The same dark hair her mother…’ he turned away again.

‘I know how you must feel’ Annabel told him quietly. ‘I too have lost a loved one. My brother….he…died a long time ago.’

‘What happened?’

‘There’s not much to say really. We were very close.’

‘We should get you some new clothes’ Farrell said quickly changing the subject as he looked her up and down, before facing ahead again. ‘You might be travelling with us for some time.’

Annabel said no more.

When Tristan returned home, he separated himself from his soldiers, leaving them to carry on with their own business. He was tired, exhausted in fact, wanting only to rest and let his mind become at ease. But the first thing that happened when he entered his home, was that he was greeted by his wife. ‘The annoying woman’ as he secretly called her; but only in his head, he never spoke this out loud. He could never after all be sure where she was lurking.

She appeared before him, wearing a very beautiful, very expensive-looking blue dress. The shoulders were left bare, and there was a great white strip running down the front in which was very intricately detailed, the depiction of a great dragon, coloured white and shades of blue. It was of a foreign design.

‘Where did you get that?’ Tristan spoke in a tone of displeasure.

‘Do you like it?’ Olithia asked him, giggling like a playful child. She looked very beautiful with her blonde hair curled into ringlets and falling about her shoulders. She gave a twirl for him. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

Tristan didn’t even bother trying to suppress his groan as he buried his face a hand.

‘Goddamit woman….I’m not an endless pit of money.’

She smiled sweetly at him, not in the least bit put off.

‘My dear husband’ she cooed sarcastically. ‘What good is it being married to a prince if I can’t spoil myself?’

Tristan lifted his head, glaring daggers at her; he could feel his blood pressure growing ever higher.

‘Fine’ she sighed, dropping her playful tone and moving away from him. ‘Eat your food, the servants have just cooked. If you don’t eat it soon it’ll cool. Not that I care…’ she finished, turning her head away dismissively and speaking to the wall.

She clicked her fingers as she left. Her handmaiden, who followed her almost everywhere rushed up to her, walking behind her with her hands together and head bowed.

The two left the room.

Tristan dismissed the other servants who lingered, wishing only to be alone at this time.

He wandered through his home and to the dining room, sitting down heavily in one of the ornate seats; elbow leant upon the arm of the chair, chin resting on his closed fist. The food that had been placed before him looked fresh, looked delicious. But he ignored it.

Instead he took another deep breath, trying to calm the raging storm within him.

‘Hateful woman’ he whispered to himself.

He turned his thoughts away from his wife, and thought again of that man he had seen, the one he could not get out of his mind.

He closed his eyes, brow furrowed as he tried desperately to think.

It was many minutes he sat there. And then it hit him all of a sudden.

‘Gods alive!’ he cried out loud, sitting bolt upright.

‘Husband?’ a voice sailed from the next room. ‘Is everything alright?’

Tristan flinched, quickly glancing in the direction his wife’s voice had come from, before rising from his seat and running in the opposite direction and into the next room to find his guards.

‘Get on your horses’ he told a group of them in a hushed voice as he ran past.

‘But we only just got here your highness.’

‘I don’t care’ Tristan snapped back. ‘I want you to search all the towns and villages nearest the exit of that cave. We have to find him.’

He left the house seconds later with his men, before his wife had a chance to hinder him.

By the time Olithia spotted him through one of the windows in an upstairs room, he was nothing more than a speck growing smaller on the horizon.

It was an uneventful journey from then on, from the river near the mouth of the cave, to the town called Hexham where they headed. Most of the time the group walked in complete silence, save for Shawn and Annabel. They talked quietly to each most of the way, speaking in animated whispers, and smiling to one another.

The town when they reached it was dingy and unremarkable, but not as miserable and depressing as the first town Farrell and Shawn had entered, back when they had set out to find Arlen. Hexham was nowhere near as glum as Stonegate.

They found themselves an inn at the edge of the town where they could rest and eat and buy more supplies. Annabel, when they had been shown their rooms, instantly collapsed on one of the beds. Lying on her front and burying her face in the pillows and the sheets.

‘Soft…’ she mumbled hugging the bed.

‘We’re to be sharing a room together’ Shawn told her, leaning on the doorframe.

Behind him the others walked back and forth in the corridors examining their own rooms, unpacking their things and lounging around happily.

‘Together?’ Annabel repeated, pushing herself off the bed and facing him.

‘I …’ Shawn began awkwardly. ‘I asked the innkeeper for it to be this way. There are no single rooms here and….well…I didn’t want you to….you know….the others…’

‘I understand’ Annabel said smiling at him. ‘Thank you.’

He smiled back at her, visibly relaxing and breathing a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks’ he said back to her. ‘I um…I’m going to…check on the others…’

Downstairs Farrell was wandering the tables around the bar.

‘Food is served at eight in the morning, twelve midday and six in the evening’ the barmaid droned as she slouched around clearing the tables. She was an older woman, fat with grey hair tied tightly back. ‘If you miss those times, then too bad. The kitchen will be closed and the cook will not be coming back in.’

‘I understand’ Farrell replied. ‘Hey listen, can I ask you a question?’

‘As long as you make it quick.’

‘Are there any dress shops around here? I have a friend who needs some new clothes.’

‘You mean that pretty little girl your lot came in with?’ the lady asked. ‘I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing with her. There is a shop that makes custom clothes near here, it’s a bit expensive, but whatever she comes out with, it’s got to be a dam sight better than those drab clothes she’s wearing now. Who is she anyway? Did you kidnap her? She looks too young to be a prostitute. Or maybe she is. Or maybe she’s one of your daughters. What’s she doing here and not at home? Where is her mother?’

‘Thank you’ Farrell said loudly cutting her off before she could continue. ‘Could you give me directions to this shop?’

‘Annabel!’ Arlen called. ‘Hurry up.’

‘I’m coming’ Annabel answered.

She came rushing down the stairs to join Arlen, Farrell and Shawn who were waiting for her.

‘I’m here’ she declared. ‘So where are we going?’

‘To get you some new clothes’ Shawn told her.

‘I don’t have any money.’

‘Don’t worry about that’ Shawn laughed. ‘We’ll pay for whatever you need. You get yourself something nice.’

’So why are they coming?’ Annabel asked Shawn, glancing from Arlen to Farrell.

‘I’m carrying the money’ Farrell said.

‘And I can’t stand being around the others’ Arlen added. ‘Especially Barrel…he is so annoying.’

‘Come on then’ Farrell said to them. ‘It’s this way.’

The shop they entered was small, situated on a quiet street away from the main roads. The men were ushered out of the shop after they had told the ladies what they wanted, and Annabel was taken away to be measured.

Over an agonizing hour later, in which the three men sat in almost complete and awkward silence, Annabel finally emerged.

She wore a long, black, grey and white dress, many layered and laced at the front in a thick black ribbon. Her long dark hair was held back by a thick black band, her fringe left uneven hung over her forehead.

‘Wow’ Farrell said. ‘You look…older.’

‘Is that good?’ she asked him tentatively.

‘You look wonderful’ Shawn told her.

She smiled at him briefly, before turning gloomy.

‘What’s wrong?’ Shawn asked.

‘It’s just…I just miss my parents so much. I feel sad that I might never see them again…and they might never know what happened to me.’

‘Don’t worry’ Shawn spoke softly, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. ‘You’re safe with us, for the meantime at least. And there is no reason your parents would be in danger. You will see them again, I’m sure of it.’

She smiled at him again, this time with more enthusiasm.

‘We should get back to the inn’ Arlen said unfolded his arms. ‘It’s getting late.’

The small group moved off. Walking slowly for a few minutes, they rounded a corner, and pulled back in shock and surprise at what they saw.

Standing before them beside his white horse, was the prince.

Annabel instinctively moved to stand behind the others, unconsciously holding onto Shawn’s arm as she did so.

‘Don’t worry’ the prince said confidently to her. ‘I have no interest in you anymore.’

‘But why?’ Annabel asked in a weak voice. ‘Why did you want me in the first place?’

‘I was looking for someone’ the prince replied. ‘But now…I don’t think you are the one I seek.’

‘Who are you looking for?’ Arlen asked suspiciously, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. ‘Tell me.’

Tristan ignored him, instead he spoke to Farrell.

‘You know me’ he said to him. ‘Don’t you?’

‘You’re face does seem familiar’ Farrell admitted reluctantly. ‘But from where I have seen you, I do not recall.’

‘That’s because it was a long time ago’ he answered.

‘Tristan?’ Arlen spoke up.

‘You know me?’ Tristan replied, glancing towards him curiously. ‘I don’t know you.’

‘You do’ Arlen answered back. ’I’m his brother’ he said pointing towards Farrell.

Tristan narrowed his eyes, staring hard at Arlen.

‘I do not recognise you.’

‘That’s because I have changed over the years. My name is Arlen.’

‘Arlen?’ Tristan spoke slowly. ’That is really you? I would never have known. And Shawn’ he went on turning to him. ‘You’ve changed a lot, but I still recognise you. I’m sorry for what happened to your father.’

‘I met you on that day the king summoned us to find that great beast’ Farrell suddenly remembered.

Tristan nodded. ‘His name is Vendmil.’

’That thing has a name?’ Arlen scoffed.

‘He belongs to my father’ Tristan explained. ‘My father named him.’

‘Why are you here?’ Farrell asked him suspiciously.

‘You are looking for Amaia aren’t you?’ the prince said.

Farrell felt a jolt in his heart. ‘Do you know where she is?’

‘No’ Tristan said quickly.

‘How do you know of her?’ Arlen asked Tristan.

‘Because she is my daughter.’