WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue

‘Wait!’ Farrell called after Arlen as he boarded the ship.

‘What?’ Arlen shot back without turning.

‘Where will you meet us when you return?’

‘You already know the answer to that’ Arlen replied simply. ‘By the mountains. By the coast. From there we will meet with the rest of the prince’s army.’

‘When will you be back?’ Farrell shouted at him from the harbour.

‘Who knows? A week. A month…?’

‘What if I don’t see you again?’

‘I don’t care!’ Arlen hollered, turning to face him at last. ‘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!’

‘Do you really mean that Arlen?’ Farrell sighed weakly, walking along the harbour to keep Arlen in sight as the gangplank was pulled back onto the ship.

‘You mean nothing to me!’ Arlen called to him. ‘I will never forgive what you have done.’

He strode away, swiftly disappearing from view on the ship.

Farrell watched miserably as the ship slowly sailed away. Taking with it Annabel, for her own protection now that she had revealed her existence to the king’s soldiers, and Shawn of course who insisted on staying by her side. Cam also had boarded the ship with his wife Tala, who insisted on them both returning to the soil where they had been born, their true home. To them it always would be, no matter what had happened. With them, went as many others as they could fit on the ship.

Farrell watched as the ship headed out to sea to begin its journey back again to the other land across the water.

‘So are we ready to go?’ an impatient voice interrupted Farrell’s thoughts loudly.

Farrell saw nearby, Woodworm who had spoken. Beside him, were Barrel, Adam and the newly named Flynn, once known as Flute Stick. And behind them, were the rest of the men that waited. Those that had survived the attack and could not all fit on the ship, they were only a handful in number.

‘I take it we’re heading back to the mountains’ Adam was saying behind Farrell, ‘where the others wait.’

‘What?’ Farrell hesitated. ‘Oh….yes…I suppose.’

‘Let’s get going then’ Woodworm said. ‘Before they find us.’

That evening when they had travelling a distance away from the harbour, they came to rest in a section of forest, daring even to light a fire. The trees were thick around them, and it was unlikely that they would be seen from afar. Even so, lookouts were positioned at certain points all around them, there was even one man sitting high up in a tree so that he may see further away.

Farrell sat alone before a small fire, staring off into the flames, thinking about the conversation he had had with Adam not long before.

‘We’re running out of money’ Adam had said. ‘Soon we will have nothing left.’

Farrell had gritted his teeth and bit his lip in worry at that.

‘Where is the prince’ he had said. ‘Has he left us? Has he betrayed us?’

Now he sat before the fire, preoccupied with thoughts, wracked with worry and fear.

He was interrupted by a man that came to him, one of the prisoners that were saved from across the sea.

‘Excuse me’ the man mumbled.

Farrell’s eyes lifted, and he stared back at the man in momentary confusion.

‘Oh’ Farrell said. ‘What is it?’

‘I was wondering what we were doing here?’

‘Haven’t you already been told?’ Farrell asked him straightening up. ‘Your freedom in exchange for your help in finding a Weather Maker named Amaia.’

‘Oh yes’ the man smiled bobbing his head. ‘I remember now.’ He nodded again. ‘A Weather Maker you say? I’ve never heard of…nor seen one until very recently. That thing that young lady did earlier….god….that was….’

‘What do you want?’ Farrell interrupted.

‘I was just wondering’ the man continued hastily, ‘why are we trying to find this Amaia Weather Maker?’

‘Because she is in danger’ Farrell replied as if it was obvious.

‘But many people are in danger every day. Why do you care so much about this one?’

‘She’s my daughter.’

‘Oh’ the man said, seemingly genuinely surprised. He took a seat on the dry earth opposite Farrell, the fire burning between them. ‘Well she must be very dear to you indeed. What does she look like?’

‘What?’

‘What does she look like?’ the man repeated.

‘I…..I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ the man chuckled to himself. ‘What…were you wearing a blindfold all her life?’

Farrell let out a very heavy groan, slumping and resting his chin on his palm.

‘How come you don’t know what your own daughter looks like?’ the man persisted.

‘Because’ Farrell droned, ‘she was only seven years old when she was taken.’

‘By the king?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she is a Weather Maker.’

‘Yeah but why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And how long ago was she taken.’

‘Twelve years.’

‘And you’ve been looking for her all this time?’

‘No, only recently’ Farrell grumbled.

‘God above us what took you so long?’ the old man asked loudly slapping his knee. ‘Did you forget about her all that time? What does her mother think of all of this?’

‘I wouldn’t know’ Farrell sighed. ‘She’s dead.’

‘I see’ the man scratched his chin thoughtfully.

‘You don’t know what your daughter looks like’ the man repeated thoughtfully to himself.

‘No.’

‘Do you remember what her mother looked like? Your wife I assume? Or lover?’

‘Yes I remember what my wife looked like’ Farrell said wearily, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the man.

‘How old would your daughter be now? Nineteen?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could you describe what your wife looked like? In detail. The shape of her face her eyes her mouth, nose…’

‘Why?’

‘Just humour me.’

‘Well’ Farrell said thoughtfully, leaning back and bowing his head. ‘She was…beautiful…’

‘Details’ the man said sharply. ‘Shapes, textures, colours….’

Elsewhere in the camp, one of the other former prisoners approached Adam as he sat with Woodworm and Barrel, trying to cook sausages on a tiny fire.

‘So what’s your story then?’ the prisoner asked them. ‘Who are you all and why are you here?’

‘Oh us?’ Woodworm said. ‘We’re just mercenaries. In it for the excitement. Right Barrel?’

Barrel laughed back at him in agreement.

‘Are those really your names?’ the prisoner asked. ‘Woodworm and Barrel?’

‘The only ones you need to know’ Woodworm replied inspecting his sausage briefly before holding it back over the fire.

‘And what about you’ the prisoner asked Adam. ‘You’re no mercenary. I know that. You’ve more discipline.’

‘How can you tell?’ Adam asked, speaking over Woodworms protests at being referred to as lacking in discipline.

‘I was a soldier myself before I was imprisoned. It was all a mix up though. Our government…our king…everything is always corrupted.’ He glanced over towards Flynn, one of the men who kept watch, and the only one who had volunteered to do so. ‘I recognise him’ the prisoner said staring at Flynn. ‘I know him. We were imprisoned together. He probably won’t remember me though. I left that prison soon enough, only to be dumped in another. At least the one you found me in was not as bad as the one I had left.’ The former prisoner looked back at the three around the fire. ‘He suffers night terrors does he not?’

‘How do you know?’ Woodworm asked him.

‘Hmm’ the man bowed his head. ‘Many who survived from that prison did.’

‘What happened there?’ Woodworm asked, speaking over Barrel’s childish giggles. ‘Carrot…I mean Cam was the same.’

‘Oh’ the prisoner sighed shaking his head. ‘Horrible things’ he said. ’Horrible. Tortures I didn’t even know existed. You all would be the same had you lived through what they lived through.’ He glanced back at Flynn. ‘He’s lucky to be alive.’ He looked back at Adam. ‘Anyway’ he said. ‘Who are you? A former soldier I’m guessing?’

‘You guessed right’ Adam nodded. ‘I used to fight in our kings army.’

‘What made you turn against him?’

‘He kidnapped my daughter thinking she might be a…..a Weather Maker’ he said, sneering at the words on his lips. How he hated those words. ‘I tried to free her, defying the kings order in doing so…..he forced me to watch her die.’ He lifted his heavy eyes towards the man again. ‘I will never forget the terror and panic in her that day, and despite my many years of service and my loyalty….the king only cared that I had disobeyed him, not that my daughter in the end was not a what he thought she was.’ He spoke to the ground now, his tone casual as he did so. ‘Not until the day I die, will I ever forget that look in her eyes….she knew she was going to die…………..I will never forget that look.....that horror…..’

After a time, the nameless prisoner spoke again. ‘What does the king want the Weather Makers for?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I have just one more question’ the prisoner added, jerking his thumb towards Barrel who had been laughing the whole time. ’Why does he keep laughing? What’s so funny?’

‘I don’t know, he’s always like that’ Adam spoke as Barrel continued to cackle.

‘Yeah he is’ Woodworm agreed. ‘I’ve tried to beat it out of him. Doesn’t work. Best get used to it.’

Sometime later, the man that had spoken to Farrell returned to him.

‘Here’ he said handing a rolled up piece of paper to him. ‘For you.’

Farrell took it uncertainly. He unrolled it and blinked in confusion. The face of the young woman drawn on the paper looked much like the face of the young woman he had seen over and over again in his dreams.

Find me…

‘What is this?’ Farrell said.

‘It’s your daughter’ the man replied. ‘Or at least…what she might look like. I drew it in charcoal…from the fire.’

‘It’s a very good picture.’ Farrell glanced up at man. ‘Where does a soldier find time to learn such skills?’

‘Oh I’m not a soldier’ the man replied. ‘I’m an artist.’

‘An art…what were you doing imprisoned with other soldiers and mercenaries in that place?’

‘I was accused of practicing sorcery. The punishment is to be drowned in the sea, far off coast…somewhere deep where it would be near impossible to find you again. Of course’ the man smiled, ‘if I am a sorcerer as they believed me to be, I would be drowning forever and ever. Sorceresses are believed to live forever. It is believed they cannot die.’ He sighed. ‘I almost wish I were what they claimed me to be.’

‘What nonsense do you foreigners believe in?’ Farrell scoffed.

‘Not all believe in such things’ the man smiled again. ‘It does sound ridiculous I know. Sorcerers do not exist, or at least I’ve never seen one. Don’t even know what they look like.’

‘So how come you weren’t thrown into the sea?’ Farrell asked him.

‘My wife was trying to secure a trail to show all those who accused me were false, and that I am just a normal man…’ he broke off, ’….I don’t suppose I shall ever see her again…..or my two children.

‘You may still’ Farrell told him.

The man smiled silently.

‘Thank you’ Farrell said, rolling the paper up again.

‘You are most welcome’ the man bowed and walked away.

That night, as Farrell slept, he heard singing.

In his dreams, he walked through the woods towards the voice and found Ramana standing there, waiting for him. She smiled when she saw him, ending her song, and slowly drifted away. He followed.

They walked side by side in silence beneath the falling leaves, their footsteps rustling on the earth below them. The low sun shining through the columns of the trees.

And Farrell was happy.

The next day they set off again, heading towards the mountains.

Along the way they came across a small town called Pentland, where they stopped to rest and buy more food with what little money they had left. It was here they met a man.

When that man spotted Barrel, he threw his head back in laughter.

‘Well if it isn’t Bill returned to me after all this time. What a pleasure it is to see you boy.’

Barrel instantly paled, quaking in fear and falling to his knees before the man.

‘Please’ he stammered. ‘Please don’t hurt me father.’