WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

The three waited in silence in the woods, hidden by the trees and completely invisible to anyone approaching them from the manor.

Farrell waited expectantly, and as Arlen had estimated, twelve minutes later, the gates to the manor opened and several mounted figures rode their way.

Farrell tensed, hand sliding to the hilt of his sword. He glanced around him, seeing some of the mercenaries hiding in the trees above them, arrows nocked.

They waited in tense silence as the soldiers drew closer, unknowingly riding to their end.

The soldiers entered the forest, riding at a gentle trot, above them the mercenaries all aimed at their targets. Arlen, Shawn and Farrell waiting on the ground behind the trees watched as the soldiers rode past them. And then Arlen whistled loudly.

The soldiers barely had time to turn in confusion at the source of the noise when the mercenaries fired their arrows, killing almost all of them in one blow. The remaining were picked off by the archers overhead as they tried to escape, but not getting very far. Arlen, Shawn and Farrell strode from their hiding places, checking the fallen men and finishing off those few that were still alive.

Farrell turned one of the men over, seeing the terror in him, knowing it was the end. The man tried to beg for his life, but Farrell quickly slit his throat, straightening up again and turning back to Arlen.

‘Take their armour’ Arlen said already beginning to undress one of the dead men as Shawn tried to calm and restrain some of the horses as they pranced and wandered about in confusion.

The other horses were quickly caught by the mercenaries who descended from the trees, undressing the dead men and putting on their armour.

Farrell placed the helmet over his head, mounting one of the horses and wheeling the animal around. It felt good to be riding a war horse again he thought.

Nearby Arlen surveyed the scene briefly before calling out the order to ride forth, leaving the dead men where they had fallen, they left the forest, riding out into the open and towards the manor.

When they reached the gates, Arlen dismounted his horse quickly, talking in a murmur to the young soldier who guarded the gates. The instant the gates were opened by the young soldier, Arlen drove a knife deep into his throat.

The others dismounted their horses, throwing off their helmets so they may be recognised by the other mercenaries that attacked the manor from the back, sweeping through the garden and into the building.

It was a long journey back to the small town where Amaia grew up. They had travelled far, and for many days. By the time they reached the place, both were exhausted.

‘We’re here’ White Feather sighed wearily, ‘…at last.’

Amaia gazed onwards to the place she had once known as home. The place she had forgotten.

‘I don’t remember any of this’ Amaia spoke with sadness.

‘Don’t worry’ White Feather reassured her. ‘It will come back to you in time. But we need to get closer. It will help you remember.’

‘I’ve just thought of something’ Amaia voiced. She turned to White Feather. ‘We’ve been walking for so long all this way, why didn’t you shrink down in size? I could have carried you on my shoulder.’

‘And let you walk all this way alone?’ White Feather scoffed. ‘I already told you, I will share your burden, this one, and however more are to come in the future, no matter what they are.’

‘That is awfully kind of you’ Amaia said meekly. ‘I wish I could repay such kindness.’

‘Your safety and happiness are repayment enough’ White Feather replied with joy.

‘But you could have spared yourself the pain’ Amaia told him.

White Feather glided towards her, touching her chin.

‘And watch you suffer travelling this distance alone?’

‘There is nothing to gain by sharing in my discomfort.’

‘If I cannot help to ease your burden’ White Feather spoke, ‘then I shall share it. Like I already told you’

‘That’s very sweet of you’ Amaia said. ‘But foolish.’

‘Foolish’ White Feather repeated. ‘But pleasing.’

‘Pleasing?’

‘It pleases me to make you happy’ White Feather clarified. ‘However foolish.’

Amaia smiled. ‘You’re funny.’

‘Come’ he said, taking her by the hand. ‘Let us take you home.’

As they drew closer to the small town, Amaia began to feel more and more nervous.

‘Are you alright Amaia?’ White Feather inquired, walking by her side, still holding her hand. ‘You seem tense.’

Amaia slowed to a stop, letting go of him.

‘I feel like I am walking into this town for the very first time. I know you tell me that I’ve been here before, I know that I told you of my past before I lost my memory. But…..’ she broke off. ‘I remember nothing of this place……so why do I feel so uneasy?’

‘Because’ White Feather said, grasping her shoulders lightly, ‘memories stir within you. It is normal to be nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve been here.’

‘I’m glad to have you by my side’ Amaia voiced. ‘I could not do this without you. This moment….I’m just glad you’re here.’

‘Come now’ White Feather teased. ‘Let us not waste time. You’ve been away from home for far too long as it is.’

‘Do you think my father will be here?’ Amaia asked.

‘Perhaps’ White Feather replied vaguely.

Amaia took a deep breath. ‘Then that makes me as nervous as ever.’

‘Why?’

‘Because’ Amaia glanced at the creature by her side. ‘The last years I knew him, he was not the man…was not the father I once knew him to be.’

She strode forwards, onwards towards her hometown.

They entered its ground, White Feather close behind her now, as Amaia explored the town, her old home, and reacquainted herself with her past.

‘It’s small’ Amaia said quietly, as they walked slowly by the houses.

‘It’s a small town’ White Feather replied.

‘It’s smaller than I remember it.’

‘You were younger back then’ White Feather replied. ‘Things would have seemed bigger to you.’

Amaia moved tentatively by the modest houses with their thatched roofs. There were no clear roads of any kind around them and between the houses, only dirt tracks.

‘It’s…’ Amaia began, looking about her, ‘it’s…’ She paused then, raising her head up towards the hilltop where there were two large manors, the kind of which could only have been owned by wealthy hands. Amaia glanced from one to the other. ‘One of these is mine’ she said.

Her pace began to quicken, as she headed towards one of the manors.

‘It’s this one’ she said.

‘What of the other?’ White Feather asked curiously beside her.

‘It belongs to my mother’s father……well…it did before he died. I don’t know who lives there now.’

‘You’re beginning to remember?’ White Feather asked her, eyes lighting up.

‘Yes’ Amaia replied. ‘It’s slowly coming back to me.’

They entered the grounds of the manor. Amaia hesitated as they reached the path. She glanced either side of her at the fields. Once upon a time, Alastor lived here. Once upon a time he would graze upon the grass and prance around protectively around his mares and foals. Now, the fields lay empty, the grass overgrown and the fences neglected and falling apart.

Sadness filled Amaia’s heart, seeing this place once to grand, now fallen into such ruins. She felt suddenly unhappy.

She walked forwards, down the path and towards the old home. Amaia entered through the front door, and stepped inside.

Inside, it felt dead, felt empty. There was no furniture, and dust covered most of what was around her, and the floors once beautiful and clean, were now muddied with footprints.

‘This is not how I remember it’ Amaia spoke, broken hearted. ‘What happened to this place?’

‘I imagine your father fell on hard times’ White Feather replied sombrely from behind her. ‘After……when you…’

The pair moved through the house silently, surveying everything around them. And Amaia…..

Amaia remembered.

She remembered these corridors where she used to run. She remembered how she was constantly told off by her father for it, and how she time and again ignored him.

And then she saw something, a painting.

Amaia stifled a sob, White Feather quickly rushed to her side, putting an arm around her shoulders.

They exchanged a glance, before looking back up at the painting.

The edges of the painting was dark like shadows, a gentle orange glow was in the centre, lighting up the small family of three in the middle. Farrell stood with his arm around Ramana, the two of them standing close, and between them, stood Amaia, still just a child. All three of them were smiling. All three of them looked happy.

‘It’s beautiful’ Amaia whispered, not trusting her voice not to break as the tears ran down her cheeks. ‘This is the first time I have seen my mother since that day.’

White Feather gazed mournfully at Amaia, squeezing her shoulder firmly.

He spoke suddenly. ‘Someone’s coming.’

Amaia wheeled around, seeing a female figure standing before her. Tall and beautiful and mature, she looked only a little older than Amaia.

‘What are you doing here?’ the woman spoke firmly.

‘I…’ Amaia glanced uncertainly towards White Feather, but remembered suddenly that he could not be seen by the woman. ‘I was looking for…’

‘Who?’ the woman asked.

‘Farrell’ White Feather whispered encouragingly to Amaia. ‘Just say you’re looking for Farrell.’

‘I’m looking for Farrell’ Amaia told the woman.

‘Well he’s not here’ the woman frowned sternly. ‘And you’re trespassing.’ The woman stared hard at her. ‘Why do you have green hair?’ she asked suddenly.

‘I’m sorry…’ Amaia said, holding her hands behind her back and staring at her feet shyly, feeling suddenly self conscious. ‘I was just…’

‘Where did you come from?’ the woman asked. ‘And who are you?’

‘I…my name is Amaia.’

The woman stiffened suddenly. ‘I knew an Amaia once’ she said, ‘so strange that you would have the same name.’

‘What?’

‘The girl in that painting’ the woman said. ‘The little girl with black hair, her name was Amaia. Something terrible happened to her….gods each time I see this painting, I think of how much she looked like her mother…’

‘Gracie…?’ Amaia whispered in shock, as she suddenly realised who this was.

‘How do you know my name?’ the woman replied immediately, eyes snapping back to her.

‘I have to go’ Amaia said hastily, walking quickly past her.

Amaia ran through the house, heading back towards the front door, stumbling outside and gasping for air.

‘Amaia!’

She glanced around to see White Feather running after her.

‘Amaia wait!’

Amaia ran far from the home and down the hill, coming to hide on the edge of the town behind an old bakery. She was gasping and shaking, holding herself tightly, trying to calm herself down.

A moment later, White Feather arrived.

‘You can’t hide from me’ he sighed at her. ‘I feel your pain. I feel everything you do.’

‘I have to get away from here’ Amaia whispered, trembling. ‘I can’t face her…I can’t…she reminds me of all that I lost…of all that I once held dear…’

‘I know where to go’ White Feather told her. ‘I asked Gracie before I came to find you. She told me where your father went.’

‘You appeared to her?’

White Feather shrugged uncertainly. ‘She was a bit surprised to see me appear so suddenly’ he admitted. ‘She told me your father left several days ago. We have to hurry if we want to catch him up.’

‘Where did he go?’ Amaia asked him, straightening and following after him as White Feather began to walk away.

’To find you’ White Feather winked, glancing back at her.

He jogged into the open, heading towards an old man who at that precise moment was walking by, leading two horses.

‘Excuse me’ White Feather said politely to the man skipping up to him. ‘What is your name?’

‘It’s Walter’ the old man replied immediately without pause.

‘Good’ White Feather nodded. ‘I’ll remember that. May we borrow these?’

The man glanced to the horses White Feather indicated behind him.

‘Why but of course’ he replied. ‘Here, take them both. I know you will look after them.’

‘How did you do that?’ Amaia asked him in a whisper once they had moved away, White Feather holding the reins of both the horses now.

‘I placed a spell upon him’ White Feather grinned at her teasingly.

‘You shouldn’t have done that’ Amaia frowned. ‘It’s dishonest.’

‘Oh relax’ White Feather waved her away. ‘It’s like I said, we’re only borrowing them. We’ll bring them back, definitely, and we’ll look after them along the way.’

Amaia stared miserably at the floor.

‘Go on then’ White Feather encouraged. ‘We cannot waste time. Your father is waiting to be found.’

Amaia resigned, mounted the already saddled horse.

‘It’s convenient that the man handed over these horses so easily’ Amaia said to him, ‘a trick like that could be useful again in the future.’

‘Indeed’ White Feather agreed, climbing into the saddle of the other horse. ‘If that particular ability was less restricted then it would be very useful, but unfortunately it only works on the impressionable. You know…the very young or very old. That man must have been in his fifties as least.’

Amaia glanced back towards the old man, who was now plodding away happily; completely oblivious to anything out of the ordinary that might have happened.

‘So where do we go now?’ she asked him.

‘Your father was heading to a town in the west to find Arlen. He is planning to ask him for help to look for you. I know the way.’

‘Which town?’

‘One called Stonegate.’

‘And Gracie told you that?’

‘She did’ White Feather nodded. ‘She told me everything I need to know, as I can be very persuasive.’

‘Let’s hurry then’ Amaia said, feeling suddenly anxious. ‘I don’t want to waste any time.’

‘Before we go’ White Feather interrupted, ‘I need to steal some food.’

‘It’s not right to steal’ Amaia protested. ‘The horses are one thing, but just plain stealing…?’

‘Well I doubt they’d want it back after we’ve eaten it’ White Feather replied curtly, ‘and anyway, it’s a long way to Stonegate. We need the food. Trust me; you’ll thank me when you get hungry.’

It was a full moon that night as they travelled. They rested little, and travelled swiftly. It was only a short time that it took them to reach their destination, a dingy little town set in an unremarkable location. White Feather advised Amaia that it would be best to wait until dawn before approaching, as the streets of that town were not a safe place to be.