WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

Nine months later

Ramana threw her head back and screamed, grasping the bed sheets and turning her head from side to side. All around her, midwives bustled.

Farrell jerked the reins back sharply, Alastor reared up pawing the air and screaming furiously. Farrell sent the stallion forwards again, swinging his sword at the enemy soldiers below him, all around the fighting continued.

Farrell shook his head, trying to clear his eyes of blood and rain. It was dark now; the only light came from the moon as it cast a pale yellow blanket on the scene of the town below. The scene of death and bloodshed.

Farrell wheeled the stallion around, hearing his name being called, but only as a faint voice on the wind.

It came again. Farrell kicked his heels, driving the stallion onwards, closer towards the voice. And then he saw a soldier riding towards him, fighting through the mass of swarming bodies that surrounded them. Farrell stopped before the soldier, Alastor prancing on the spot and tossing his head.

‘What is it?’ Farrell called, raising his voice to be heard over the falling rain and the sound of metal on metal as swords clashed, and men died around them. ‘What is it soldier?’ Farrell shouted.

‘Sir’ the soldier called back. ‘Your wife is in labour.’

Without hesitation Farrell kicked his horse hard. Alastor tore forwards, breaking through the ranks and heading home. He raced across the open landscape as fast as he could, shortly behind him, another figure followed on horseback.

By the time Farrell arrived at his home and burst through the door, the baby had already arrived.

But the first that Farrell saw was not the baby, but his wife lying on the bed, eyes shut and completely motionless.

Panic rose in his heart, and he rushed over towards her.

‘It’s ok’ a midwife said nearby, halting him in his tracks. ‘She is well, she’s just exhausted.’

Farrell looked towards her, and noticed for the first time, the baby she held in her arms.

‘It’s a girl’ the midwife smiled, lifting the child.

Farrell took the baby tenderly, holding her in his arms.

‘She’s so tiny’ he whispered, gazing down at her.

‘Farrell…’ came a weak voice. Ramana was stirring now, recognising Farrell’s voice.

Farrell hurried over to her, beginning to fuss.

Ramana’ he worried. ‘Are you alright?’

Ramana smiled wearily, turning her head towards him. The colour from her cheeks had faded, her skin was beaded with sweat and her hair was damp.

‘You look pale’ he said.

‘It’s not easy creating new life’ the midwife told Farrell. ‘The body needs time to recover.’ She smiled encouragingly at Farrell. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.’

The room emptied now, the midwives having done their job and delivered a healthy baby, left happily, and in no time at all, the once bustling room, was silent and still.

Farrell smiled adoringly down at his wife. He reached towards her, brushing her hair back tenderly. Farrell took her by the hand, and together, they stared down at their child.

‘My daughter’ Farrell spoke, ‘my own flesh and blood.’

‘My girl’ Ramana whispered. ‘Our precious treasure.’

‘I’m so proud of you.’ Farrell smiled widely. ‘What should we call her?’ he asked Ramana.

Ramana took a deep and thoughtful sigh.

‘Amaia’ she whispered.

‘It’s a beautiful name’ Farrell said. He gazed down at his daughter, speaking her name, feeling it on his breath.

‘Amaia…’

From the doorway a shadowy figure watched. Arlen retreated into the darkness.

He turned and walked away.

Many days later, Farrell and Brice sat side by side on the edge of the town, facing out towards the horizon.

‘What’s it like to be a father?’

Brice hummed thoughtfully at his brother as he pondered the question. Now a proud father of two, his son Shawn was thirteen and his wife had given birth to a new baby girl, born a few months before Amaia. She had been named Gracie.

‘It’s hard.’

‘Really?’ Farrell droned humorously. ‘I already knew at least that much.’

‘To be honest I’ve forgotten how hard it was’ Brice admitted. ‘I don’t remember Shawn being anywhere near as difficult as Gracie. I’m dreading her becoming a teenager.’

‘What should I do?’ Farrell groaned in frustration. ‘Ramana hasn’t allowed me into my own bedroom for days. She’s become somewhat hostile. The other day I swear I saw fire in her eyes.’

‘Well I don’t know about that’ Brice shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much.’

‘How could I not worry?’ Farrell asked. ‘She doesn’t want me around anymore.’

’Just because she doesn’t want you around, doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Women need their space’ Brice explained, ‘especially at a time like this.’

‘She’s practically thrown me out of my own home’ Farrell complained.

‘Be understanding’ Brice said to him. ‘Women are tricky creatures at times. They are very emotional, you have to understand them, and give them space when they demand it. Trust me, I know.’

‘You argue with Alice sometimes?’ Farrell asked him.

Brice scoffed. ‘All the time.’

‘But I thought wives were supposed to obey their husbands.’

Brice threw his head back at this, roaring with laugher.

‘Are you joking?’ he asked, wiping tears from his eyes. ‘Gods no. Woman rule over men. Most of us just don’t know it, because they do it with smiles, compliments and tantrums. We obey because we are either flattered, or because it’s easier to give in than to fight with them. Remember, you can never win an argument with a woman. They have an answer for everything and a quick tongue that will leave you speechless, with no answer to give.’

‘I never realised marriage would be so difficult’ Farrell sighed wearily. ‘I never thought having a family would be so hard.’

‘My dear brother’ Brice chuckled, patting Farrell’s shoulder heartily. ‘It’s only uphill from here.’

It was many more days later, when Ramana allowed the brothers to visit her and her daughter.

Farrell opened the door to see Brice and Arlen standing there. He invited them into his home, and led them through to one of his large and spacious living rooms. Here Ramana was sitting in one of the chairs, holding her daughter in her arms.

She watched as the three brothers entered the room, their footsteps echoed on the smooth marble floors. Ramana lifted her head as Brice and Arlen approached, Farrell pulled back, watching from a short distance away.

Silently, Ramana lifted the baby towards Brice, who took her gently. Brice stared down at the child, holding her tenderly.

‘She looks just like Gracie did’ he said, ‘shortly after she was born.’ He turned to Arlen standing beside him, and held the child out, for Arlen to take.

Arlen hesitated, drawing back slightly.

‘Go on’ Brice encouraged. ‘Take her.’

Arlen stepped forwards, closer to his brother. Farrell watched, as the child was handed from Brice, to Arlen.

Arlen stared down at Amaia, feeling a lump in his throat.

‘She’s beautiful’ he chocked, tears prickling in his eyes and his breath caught in his throat.

He couldn’t believe this moment had come. It felt too good to be true, so wonderful, and so strange.

He lifted his gaze to Ramana, and for an instant, their eyes met.

A moment passed between them.

‘Here’ Arlen whispered as the child became restless. ‘I think she wants to be back with her mother.’

Ramana took the baby, leaning back in her chair.

‘Her name is Amaia’ she said.

‘It’s a beautiful name’ Arlen told her. He opened his mouth to say something else, but hesitated; then he closed his mouth again.

Arlen turned and swiftly left without explanation. Farrell watched him go. His brow furrowed, as he frowned thoughtfully to himself.