WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

Bill’s father had found their pursuers and told the prince Corvan everything he needed to know. Farrell and the others had tried to escape by heading through the mountains, but Corvan now knew where they were and which way they were heading. They stood no chance to outrun them on foot. They were swiftly found and captured. The king, who had taken a special interest in them because of Annabel, had travelled in person to see them. But even though Annabel was long gone, the king would accept no excuse or reason. He had expressed surprise at first sight of Farrell especially, but Adam also. But it made little difference who they were or what services they had provided him in the past. None of that mattered anymore.

‘I have to have her’ the king insisted again.

‘Why do you want her?’ Farrell groaned.

‘I’ve never come across a Weather Maker that fights like that. If she is as I’ve been told she is, then she is the most powerful I’ve come across yet.’

‘She’s not more powerful’ Farrell tried to reason. ‘She’s just more experienced.’

‘She is stronger than the others’ the king insisted.

‘No she isn’t!’ Farrell shouted back.

The king sighed wearily, turning back to the torturer.

‘Continue.’

The burly man again tightened the giant screw which trapped Farrell’s arm. Farrell threw his head back, screaming in agony as the bones in his hand were crushed.

Sometime later, Farrell was taken away and returned to the other where he lay, falling asleep in minutes.

That night, he dreamed of Ramana.

They were sitting on a beach together, the small waves rolling up the sand and tickling their feet, before retreating and returning again.

Farrell glanced to the side. Ramana was smiling at him. She looked so happy, so beautiful. She leant towards him, pushing him back down against the sand, and resting her body weight upon his. Her long dark hair fell forwards; as she bent down to kiss him, shielding them from the world.

Farrell’s arms came up slowly as he kissed her back, caressing her body. It felt so good.

The next day Farrell was brought before the torturer again, and the king began to question.

‘I don’t know’ Farrell answered, his voice shaking. ‘Please…no more.’

He screamed again, as the burly man pressed the red hot brand against his naked skin. A new burn to join the many others that now covered his back. Tied firmly to a tree and unable to move, he was forced to endure the agonizing process.

Sometime later he was taken away to rest and recover, and the next man was brought forwards.

Things had continued this way for some time, but the king insisted that he would wait for Arlen and the others to return, with Annabel. No matter how long it took.

‘I must have her’ the king repeated time and again. ‘I must. Now tell me where she is.’

‘I don’t know’ Adam said firmly. ‘They set sail and vanished. We don’t know where they went or when they will be back. If they’re even coming back at all!’

‘It’s not good enough’ the king shook his head. ‘Continue’ he said to the torturer.

Adam screwed his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth. His screams of pain echoed through the camp, sending terror into the hearts of every prisoner there.

Every time it was a constant reminder to each person, that they might be next.

One evening, Flynn woke screaming and thrashing around. Cam was not there to comfort and protect him, instead one of the other prisoners tried to hold him down, which made him panic even more.

‘Shut him up’ Farrell hissed under his breath to the man desperately. ‘Flynn’ he snarled to him ’Be quiet!’

But it was too late. The kings soldiers who were given the order to ‘get rid of him’ were he to cause a disruption again, had already heard him.

Flynn was dragged out of the group by one of the soldiers, pulled away from the other prisoner who had tried to silence him. Fully awake now, Flynn screamed in panic, knowing what would happen. But no one was able to help him.

The others watched helplessly as he was dragged by the soldier to a more secluded area and restrained, while another soldier drove a dagger through his throat, silencing him forever.

He collapsed, and his body was dragged away before he had even stopped bleeding.

It had all been done very quickly.

Another soldier moved close to the prisoners, looming over them dangerously to see if any would make a noise or protest. Within the group Bill sunk his teeth into his own hand to stop himself laughing, biting down so hard he caused himself to bleed, but he made almost no sound. Nearby Woodworm watched silently, his face looked carved out of stone, and beside him, Adam blinked back tears, covering his mouth in shock. But none within their group made another sound.

A few weeks after that, one of the kings soldiers shouted a message across the camp.

‘Your majesty! A ship has arrived at the coast. I think it’s the one we’ve been waiting for.’

Farrell’s breath and heart quickened in fear. He waited nervously for what might happen next.

A messenger was sent down to the coast to meet the new arrivals and bring them to the camp. When Arlen arrived with a handful of other men, Shawn being among them but Annabel not, and a shady character in a hood and cloak standing close beside Arlen, the king stepped forward to speak.

‘Who is in charged amongst you?’ the king called.

‘I am’ Arlen called back loudly, he and his companions standing a distance away from the king.

The king indicated to one of his soldiers to bring Farrell forwards, who waited amongst the other prisoners. He was thrown on his knees before the king.

Farrell straightened up, blinking wearily at Arlen before him. It had been a long time they had been apart, and Farrell’s health, along with the others that were kept imprisoned, had greatly deteriorated. Over the days that Farrell had lost count of, malnourishment and physical torture and constant fear had made Farrell a ghost of who he used to be. But Arlen still recognised him; Farrell could see it in his eyes.

‘Do you know this man?’ the king called out to Arlen.

‘Yes’ Arlen called back.

‘Good.’ The king held his hand open to one of his soldiers, and the soldier handed him a loaded crossbow.

The king took the crossbow, and pointed it at Farrell’s head.

‘Tell me where Annabel is’ the king shouted, ‘or I kill him!’

Farrell began to panic, eyes darting all around him for some escape, heart racing, body sweating, and the last words Arlen had spoken to him ringing in his mind.

I hate you. Don’t you understand this by now? I hate you! I don’t care if I never see you again. I don’t care if you die!

He glanced across the clearing towards his brother.

Arlen stared back at him coolly, then exchanged a glance with the hooded man beside him.