WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

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

‘I am’ Arlen replied.

Farrell was brought forwards and thrown on his knees before the king.

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

‘Yes’ Arlen hollered back.

The king pointed the crossbow at Farrell’s head.

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

Arlen watched his brother coolly. Farrell he saw had begun to panic, quivering on his knees and eyes darting all around.

Arlen exchanged a glance with the hooded Talut beside him. Talut glanced down at Arlen’s wrist, where he wore his hidden weapon.

Arlen looked calmly back at the king.

‘Now what would you want with Annabel?’ he shouted to him. ‘She is just a girl.’

‘No’ the king shook his head. ‘No don’t play games. I know what she is. I know what she can do….’ he took a deep breath. ’I know everything!’ he raised his voice. ‘I know about the Weather Makers. I know about your quest. I know about Amaia!’

Arlen’s heart jolted then, breath held, eyes wide, he was about to speak again, when Farrell before the king began to stand.

He heaved himself to his feet with great effort, turning to face the king he spoke.

‘What do you know of Amaia?’ Farrell groaned to the king, holding his body as if he were in pain. Arlen saw at a glance that he had been tortured; he saw his crippled hand, the wounds over his body.

‘I know that you think she is your daughter’ the king grumbled back. ‘I know she is a Weather Maker.’

‘How?’

‘I met her.’

‘Where? When? Where is she?’ Farrell fumbled over his words in an effort to get them out. ‘Where is she?!’

‘She’s dead!’ the king snapped. ’I killed her.’

Farrell’s world instantly sunk into a pit of despair.

‘No…’ he whispered, legs trembling, unable to stand anymore he fell to his knees. ‘No you can’t…..’

Shaking hands slowly went to hold his head as his body hunched over.

’Noooooo!’ he groaned in anguish, rocking back and forth and clawing at the ground. ‘Nooooooo….’

Behind him Arlen had not moved. He only stood there in a state of shock and as pale as a ghost.

Farrell lifted his head as the king swung at him with the butt of the crossbow. Farrell was knocked to the side, jerking his head back at the king who strode towards him, lifting the weapon again. Farrell crawled desperately away on his hands and knees upon the rocky earth.

Arlen threw his arm straight, aimed and fired the weapon at his wrist. Above Farrell the king stumbled back, grabbing his throat where the dart stuck out, blood seeping between his fingers.

Arlen glanced to his side, seeing Talut had done the same as he had and fired the weapon at his wrist.

‘You missed’ Talut snapped at him.

Within the group of prisoners behind the king, Woodworm rose to his feet, striking the guard nearest him.

The king rounded and marched towards his horse as chaos ensured, pulling the dart out of his neck and holding his bleeding throat. The dart had just missed a major artery, and the king would yet live.

In the group of prisoners Woodworm was fought off, weak from hunger and pain he was little match for the man he had picked a fight with. The soldier managed to free himself without too much trouble, turning on Woodworm and swiftly stabbing him in the gut. Woodworm collapsed as the soldier jerked the knife away again.

‘No’ he sobbed desperately to Adam who had rushed over to him, hands held over the wound that was seeping blood at an alarming rate. ‘I can’t die!’ Woodworm cried defiantly. ’I can’t meet her again!’

The sounds of war echoed all around them as the two sides began to fight. Behind Arlen, Shawn and Talut had followed their own soldiers, the ones the princess had given then, armed and ready to fight.

Adam desperately dragged Woodworm back and away from the fray, pulling him to the edge of the fighting and watching silently from a distance. He lay there with Woodworm leaning into him, arms around him as he held him from behind. He pressed down on Woodworm’s belly, putting pressure on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

The two of them watched as the foreign soldiers from across the sea, wearing their silver armour that glinted in the evening light, fought the men of the king, who bore the royal crest of a wolf swallowing a half-moon.

Adam held Woodworm close as they watched the king’s men being slaughtered. The king had retreated, fleeing on his white stallion.

Adam drew a slow gasp at what he saw next, even Woodworm’s eyes widened in shock and fear.

A colossal beast that seemed to form out of the very air itself appeared before them. It was a monstrous mass of pink fleshy skin, with two massive arms that pulled it forwards. Its torso was deformed and twisted, with several smaller flailing arms that grew out from a mouth in the centre, which was nothing but a circle of sharp teeth. Around the torso behind what must have been the creatures head, were a collection of eyes and smaller mouths and horns.

It was an abomination.

The men began to scatter in fear, even the king’s men fled as the beast dragged itself forwards, slow and cumbersome. It moaned a terrible sound that echoed in the heads of the soldiers, sounding as if it was in agony, as if it’s very existence caused it pain.

All the men ran; save for one.

Arlen remained where he stood, facing the thing head on.

The abomination reached one of its massive arms out towards Arlen, who slashed it with a sword, charging fearlessly towards it.

The beast howled like the wind in a storm as its arm was dismembered, hitting the ground and rolling away. Arlen lunged forwards, driving his sword straight into the creature’s front, its soft skin easily letting the blade slide in all the way to the hilt.

The thing screeched and howled in agony and rage, Arlen winced as the high pitched cries echoed in the hills, he rolled away as the beast went to grab him with its remaining forearm, leaving the sword where it was. Arlen backed off, hands clapped over his ears and grimacing in pain as the noise sounded. The beast grabbed the sword that impaled it, jerking it out and throwing it aside before rounding on Arlen.

Arlen watched his sword sail away through the air, before glancing back at the beast.

‘Shit.’

The thing swung out at him with its remaining forearm, lunging with frightening speed and hitting Arlen, sending him flying.

Arlen hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop. Temporarily disorientated he lifted his head, body swaying side to side as he rested on his front, propped up on his elbows as the world tilted. He shook his head violently to clear his mind, seeing a weapon before him as his vision focused.

A spear dropped by one of the soldiers, a good weapon with long range.

Arlen reached for it, but was unable to grab it, before he felt a hand around his ankle.

Arlen was dragged backwards, pawing at the ground and snarling in anger at the spear that was growing quickly further and further away from him.

Arlen was pulled back towards the beast that lifted him into the air. Arlen turned his head towards the mouth as he was held upside down. A horrifying mass of jagged teeth, formed around a mouth that had no jaw but was just a hole. Arlen realised suddenly with fear how easily he could fit into that large mouth.

But the beast did not try to ingest him, at least not yet. Instead Arlen felt a hand grab one of his wrists, and held upside down he looked up towards the ground, and saw with dread that the massive forearm he had cut off had regenerated. Terror gripped him further as he realised what the beast was trying to do, as it pulled him in opposite directions. It was trying to rip Arlen in two.

Arlen screamed as he felt his shoulder dislocate, fumbling desperately on his person for something, anything that could save him. When finding nothing, he balled his fist that was trapped, firing the weapon and penetrating the beast’s fleshy skin. The beast moaned in agony, letting go of his arm. Arlen instantly turned his attention to the other arm that held him by his ankle, firing the last dart in the wrist weapon. The beast dropped him, stumbling back and nursing its wounds, screeching in rage.

Arlen sat up. He watched with unnatural calm as the beast thrashed around wailing, his hand went to his dislocated shoulder, and he took a deep breath. He knelt, bending his elbow on the side where his shoulder was dislocated to form a ninety degree angle, ignoring the pain as he did so. He turned his arm to the side, slowly rotating it upwards and raising his arm slowly, until his shoulder slipped back into place, gritting his teeth and groaning as he did so.

He let out a heavy breath, relaxing slightly and turning his attention back on the beast which had seemed to calm slightly, and in turn was turning its attention back onto him.

It began to grumble, a low echoing moan that sounded over and over again. It heaved its bulky mass towards him again, moving closer.

Arlen watched as it approached, his mind working furiously.

‘I’ve seen you before’ Arlen spoke calmly to the beast as it drew ever closer still. ‘I know your weakness.’

The gap closed between them. Arlen reached into his pocket, pulling one of the three bombs he carried, the ones he had bought in the market in the land across the sea.

The creature grabbed him again with both its arms, lifting him up as Arlen twisted the top of the bomb, lighting the fuse. He jerked his head around as he was lifted higher into the air, grasped tightly by the putrid and deformed hands of the beast. He hurled the ball, aiming for the creature’s mouth, and watching as the bomb slid down its vile throat. He gritted his teeth, groaning in pain as the creature made to pull him apart again, intending to kill him. But seconds later, the bomb exploded, and Arlen was released, falling to the ground. He picked himself off the ground again, gazing back at the abomination as it howled and screamed, burning on the inside, consumed by a great figure.

The creature reached for him again, with more aggression and anger than before. Arlen rolled to the side, avoiding its lunge, cutting it again and again as it wailed in anguish. But consumed by fire and in pain, Arlen managed to avoid its blows as it thrashed around desperately; leaping out of the way of a falling mound of rock as the creature stumbled back, hitting the mountain behind it.

Arlen faltered then, suddenly noticing something. A lump on the beast that was different from the other deformities on its body. As Arlen stared at it closely, he saw that it was throbbing, beating.

‘A heart…’ Arlen whispered.

He threw away the sword he had hastily picked up, choosing instead another fallen weapon, this time a spear. Kneeling and glancing up briefly at the creature as he worked, he pulled out another bomb, twisting it in the middle and pouring the entire contents of the flammable liquid onto the sharp tip of the spear. He pulled out the third bomb, the last one he had and twisted the top, lighting the fuse and using the spark to light the oil coated on the spear tip.

Arlen threw the bomb away; it rolled and exploded behind him as he rose again to his feet, the tip of the spear burned brightly now, wreathed in flame and glowing in the dark. He strode towards the beast as it thrashed around, moving faster the closer he drew towards it. Arlen was meters away. He reached an arm out to balance himself, pulling the other arm back, the one he held the spear with, and threw.

The flaming spear soared through the air and hit its mark, penetrating straight through the beating heart and driving through the soft pink mass.

It screamed a human scream, a girl’s scream, as the whole body was consumed in a roaring ball of fire, a red hot inferno.

The thing wailed in agony, every inch of it quivering. It burned like a torch, before fading away like a spirit until nothing was left of it except ash, which floated away and scattered in the wind.

Arlen let out a breath, stepping back, but not taking his eyes away from where it had stood. ‘Gods’ Adam whispered as he stared at Arlen, seeing what he had done. ‘He isn’t human…’

Arlen strode away, heading across the rocks and towards Farrell who knelt, hidden in the shadows. He reached a hand out for him to take.

Farrell stared up at his brother uncertainly, before accepting his hand silently, and rising to his feet.

‘I don’t believe him’ Arlen said to Farrell later on when they were alone.

‘Why?’ Farrell whispered back, his crippled hand held close to his chest.

‘The king has no loyalties to tell us either true or lies’ Arlen replied. ‘I feel the same as I do before.’

‘But what if it’s true?’ Farrell spoke hesitantly.

‘It isn’t’ Arlen answered stubbornly. ’Amaia is alive. And we will find her.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why?’

‘Because’ Arlen answered, ‘I have faith…’

Standing side by side they stared out onto the world below them. The sun cast its glow onto the land at their feet, lighting up the golden river before them as it ran its gentle course into the sea. The green earth that stretched as far as they could see was a picture of tranquillity and peace, a far world from the one they lived now, where their hearts stirred only in darkness. Arlen and Farrell could not see the beauty around them; only feel the cold chill of the morning air, and the loneliness of the world in which they lived.

‘I still love her’ Arlen said after a time. ‘I still love Ramana. I still think about her……even after all this time.’

‘Yeah’ Farrell said meekly. ‘Me too.’

‘Do you remember how she used to laugh?’

‘Cackle you mean.’

Arlen smiled.

Farrell took a deep breath before speaking next.

‘Arlen’ he said, half-turning to him. ‘Do you still hate me?’

‘Yes’ Arlen replied shortly.

‘But…you saved my life earlier…that bolt…’

‘Was fired by the man that stood beside me’ Arlen finished. ‘The hooded one. My shot missed.’

‘But you still fired the shot’ Farrell pressed. ’You were trying to help me.’

Arlen faced him now.

‘Why would you bother if you didn’t even care?’ Farrell asked him.

‘Amaia would want you to live’ Arlen answered. He made to leave.

‘Arlen’ Farrell said sharply, stopping him. ‘Do you remember when you saved my life many years ago, from that same creature you fought and killed earlier? You stood between the creature and me, you protected me….do you remember that?’

‘No.’

‘I know you remember’ Farrell insisted as Arlen tried to leave again. ‘I just wanted to ask you….what were you thinking at the time? Why did you do it….? I have to know.’

Arlen turned back to him.

‘At the time…’ he said, ‘nothing else mattered.’

He left then. Farrell did not try to stop him.

Farrell looked to the sky above him. The clouds shone in pink and yellow light, before a sky that was faded blue.

‘Amaia…’ he spoke aloud. ’Where are you?’

He took the paper hidden in his pocket, something he had carried the whole two months he had been imprisoned and tortured. He held it open with his one good hand. His injured hand had healed, but he would be crippled forever.

Farrell looked at the picture. It was the picture that man had drawn him, of what Amaia might look like now.

Farrell held it before him, staring blankly at the charcoal face, eyes distant.

He opened his fingers; the paper slipped from his grasp and sailed away in the breeze, floating down the rocky slope, towards the earth and away.

It was shortly after when Farrell slept, that he dreamed.

‘Here’ Farrell said, ‘for you.’

Ramana lifted her beautiful eyes to him, gazing lovingly at her husband. Ignoring the bowl of fruit he held out to her, instead she leapt at him, knocking him onto his back and leaning over him.

‘Hey!’ he protested, still holding onto the bowl clumsily and trying not to spill the contents. ‘Be careful, you don’t want me to…’

His words were cut off as she kissed him, long and deep. Farrell moaned in pleasure, kissing her back and running his free hand down her body. Her long black hair fell about her face, shielding them from the world.

‘Not again!’ came a voice of complaint.

Ramana leant back away from Farrell, grinning guiltily to their daughter. Farrell stayed on his back for a moment, staring up into the perfect blue sky above, catching his breath and calming his racing heart.

He sat up, seeing Ramana pinching Amaia’s cheeks and trying to kiss her. Amaia squealed in alarm and tried to escape. Ramana instead wrapped her arms around Amaia and squeezed her, kissing her several times on the cheek as the little green bird Yayew ran in circles around them squawking.

‘Nooooo!’ Amaia cried desperately trying to get away from her. ‘Let me go!’

‘But I love you’ Ramana said innocently, after attacking her mercilessly with kisses for several seconds. She ceased her assault now, simply holding her. Amaia’s little body clutched to her own. ‘My daughter’ Ramana breathed. ‘My precious treasure.’ She whispered into her ear. ‘I love you so much…’

‘Let me go!’ Amaia gasped. ‘I can’t breathe!’

Ramana released Amaia suddenly, causing Amaia to fall ungracefully back onto the picnic blanket. The bird instantly quietened once Amaia had been released, clambering awkwardly to sit on her lap.

Farrell reached into the basket beside them as they sat, the tall grass in the meadow swayed gently around them in the warm breeze. He lifted a bottle of wine, pouring a glass and offering it to Amaia.

‘Would you like to try some?’ he said to her. ‘It’s what grownups drink.’

Amaia’s expression instantly lit up, and her eyes grew like saucers as she stared at the deep red liquid.

She reached tiny hands towards it, but before she could grasp it, Ramana’s hand shot out. She slapped the glass out of Farrell’s hand, frowning furiously at him.

‘Amaia is too young to drink that stuff’ she glowered.

‘Nonsense’ Farrell sang back at her, ignoring the fallen glass that seeped wine onto their picnic blanket, staining the fabric. ‘Brice gives his son wine all the time.’

‘Shawn is older’ Ramana argued, speaking loudly over Amaia’s protests at being treated like a child. She put her hand over Amaia’s face and shoved her back playfully, causing Amaia to become even more irate and indignant.

‘Hush now’ Ramana cooed at her as Amaia became ever louder. ‘You can have maybe a tiny sip when you’re a little older.’

‘But that’s not fair!’

‘Shush my child’ Ramana whispered, kissing her forehead. ‘Be still.’ She held her again, this time gently. Her other hand she reached out for Farrell, pulling him towards her in a hug. ‘These days…’ Ramana sighed blissfully content, ‘have been the happiest in my life…’

‘Ramana….’ Farrell whispered, lip quivering and tears coming to him. ‘I miss you so much…’

He looked then to Amaia, who stared blankly back at him.

Farrell reached a hand forward to touch her, intending to caress her and stroke her hair back. But he woke before he was able to do so, staring up at the canvas of the tent above him.

He let out a sigh, feeling his heart sinking in his chest. And then he heard the noise again that had woke him. Nearby, just outside his tent, he could hear Woodworm’s voice.

He was shouting and kicking up a fuss. Farrell listened to him. He sounded to be in pain.

Woodworm moaned again, gritting his teeth and throwing his head back as he lay on the bed outside. Around him were others like him that had been injured in the fight, but because his wounds were severe, he was one of the first to be seen by a healer.

‘Give me drugs!’ he demanded clutching his wound. ‘Give me medicine! Make it stop hurting!’

‘Keep still’ Adam ordered him, trying to hold him down.

Woodworm tensed, lying back and obeying as the healer lifted his shirt to see the wound. He had been stabbed.

He tensed in pain, screwing his eyes tight shut as the healer pressed a cold damp cloth to his skin to clean the blood away.

‘Will you hurry up man?!’ Woodworm demanded. ‘I haven’t got all day!’

A few hours later and Woodworm rested on a bed in one of the tents, still and quiet as he slept. Adam found him again and spoke to him, Woodworm being a light sleeper, woke as he heard him approaching.

‘They said you wouldn’t make it’ Adam told him. ‘They said you would die for sure.’

‘Well they were wrong then weren’t they’ he replied.

‘You should have died’ Adam pressed. ‘That wound was severe. How did you live?’

‘Willpower’ Woodworm answered flatly. ’I am desperate to live. I must live.’

Adam hummed thoughtfully to himself.

‘Earlier’ Adam spoke, ’you said something. You said you can’t die….because you can’t meet her again. What did you mean?’

‘Ahhh’ Woodworm sighed, shifting in his bed. ‘That is a tragic story indeed, and I suppose I may as well tell someone now before I die, and my name isn’t really Woodworm. It’s William.’

He took a heavy breath, closing his eyes as he did.

‘I’ll tell you what I meant’ he said. ‘Someone may as well know….before I die…as all men do in the end.’