WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 24: The Writing on the Plaque

The band of men left Dilston quickly; each mercenary carried their own supplies on their own horses, tall and muscular beasts they were, bred for battle. Many like their riders bore scars and other minor injuries on their bodies.

Five days they travelled. The landscape for the most point was relatively flat and their journey uneventful. Over that time Farrell was becoming familiar with some of the mercenaries, and their names and habits and who knew who and what each was like. He wouldn’t speak to them, only watched them. Shawn the Farrell would spend most of their time together along the journey, riding side by side in silence. Farrell was just getting used to riding his grey mare, when they arrived at their destination.

The last few hours of their journey took them through woodland, and once they reached the other side, they found Arlen waiting for them.

‘Good, you’re all finally here’ he said rising to his feet.

He had made a small camp in the woods where he and his horse waited, a small area tucked away and well hidden.

Farrell dismounted his horse, eager to replace the place where Amaia was supposed to be, but he waited patiently for Arlen to speak.

‘There is a building’ Arlen began as the others began to dismount, ‘just behind me. A large manor surrounded by walls and gates and guarded by soldiers, but not too many to be impassable. If we catch them by surprise then we stand a good chance of succeeding.’

‘Have you seen her?’ Farrell stepped forward, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘Have you seen Amaia?’

Arlen gave him a cold expression.

‘Yes’ he said quietly. ‘I have seen her.’

‘Is she alright?’

Arlen’s body tense began to quiver slightly as he spoke to Farrell, turning quickly away the instant he had finished his sentence. ‘She is alive and well as far as I can see but I’ve only seem distant glimpses of her.’ Arlen addressed the others now. ‘If the rest of you would like to follow me, I will show you the manor.’

When they reached the edge of the forest, the manor came into sight. Farrell was surprised by what he saw. It was indeed a large building as Arlen had said, with large windows and behind the tall metal fences its grounds were beautiful. The gardens were overflowing with flowers and fruit trees that waved their branches in the wind. Squinting, Farrell could see a woman kneeling amongst the flowers, and his heart skipped a beat, thinking that it might be her. But no, this lady was much older than Amaia would be, and she had short blonde hair.

‘To be honest I think I would have been surprised no matter what we found’ Farrell told Shawn beside him a short while later. ‘I really had no idea what I was expecting.’

‘Me neither’ Shawn said. He considered the place before him. ‘But I think this is better than anything I could have expected’ he went on. ‘Like I said’ he turned to Farrell, ‘the prince must have gone through a lot of trouble for her. I’m sure she’s been well cared for.’

Farrell stared hard at the building, deep in thought.

Could Amaia really be in there, after all this time, just a short distance away?

‘Amaia’ Farrell spoke out loud, gripping the hilt of his sword. ’Please be in there.’

Nearby Arlen was talking animatedly to the mercenaries, just out of earshot Farrell could not hear what he said as he spoke so fast.

When Arlen was finished many of the mercenaries began to disperse, Farrell watched them moving away; they kept within the shadow of the trees and out of sight. Several mercenaries stayed behind, these were all the archers.

‘What would you like us to do?’ Shawn asked Arlen.

Arlen glanced towards Farrell with a sneer on his lips, looking to his broken arm that rested in a sling, before speaking to Shawn again. Farrell could imagine that Arlen thought him unworthy to fight, perhaps out of practice after all these years, as well as being injured.

Perhaps he was right.

‘In exactly twelve minutes the guards will change over’ Arlen said to Shawn. ‘They will ride this way through the woods. We kill them and take their horses. Then we ride to the front gates wearing their armour. The guards usually wear helmets so we can cover our faces. We might raise a little suspicion by riding back’ Arlen admitted, ‘but if we can get close enough to eliminate those at the front gate, then we can let ourselves and some of the others in’ he said. ‘The remaining mercenaries will circle around and scale the wall at the back of the house. There is a garden; they can make their own way in from there. I’ve explained the layout of the building as best I can.’

‘Are they trustworthy?’ Shawn asked him.

Arlen hesitated.

‘I hope so’ he finally answered.

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, in twelve minutes time, the gates to the manor opened and several mounted figure 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 above fired their arrows, killing almost all of them in one hit. The remaining were picked off by the archers 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. He 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.

The slaughter was quick. Any soldier that was not their own had been killed, now only the terrified servants remained. Poor unfortunate souls. They cowered in fear and cried, holding each other for comfort and reassurance, gazing up in horror at the brawny mercenaries that surrounded them with their huge axes and swords.

Arlen strode through the many rooms, never pausing in his furious strides, still holding his bloodied sword in his hand. He reached a room where there were no other doors beside the one he had entered through. A dead end. He turned and marched back out to the corridor, shouting in frustration, nerves still on edge from the fight and pumped full of adrenaline.

‘WHERE IS SHE?!’

Farrell watched his brother’s pacing, standing beside Shawn and some of the mercenaries that guarded the servants. The other mercenaries were searching the rooms, thinking perhaps that the young woman they sought was hiding. She had good reason to fear them after all.

‘I’m going to look too’ Shawn said leaving his side.

Farrell could hear the stress in his voice as he spoke.

Farrell walked away shortly after, heading out of the building, thinking to himself.

Is she really here? Was she ever here? Perhaps Arlen was wrong after all, if she were here they would have found her by now.

He wandered out of the rooms, down a set of stairs and stepped out into the garden.

Farrell lifted his face to the sky, tilting his head back and feeling the sun’s rays warming his cheeks.

He stepped forwards.

The garden was vast, far larger than any he had seen before, with many growing things and many hidden places.

Farrell walked for what seemed like ages, turning this corner and that. There were many beautiful statues here, and the garden had been well looked after. But he didn’t notice the pretty pink flowers that grew from the trees, nor the pond built within stone where a miniature river constantly ran water into it. But he did notice one thing that seemed strangely out of place.

A sort of plaque set in the ground a short distance away. Farrell altered his course, walking towards it, coming to a stop before it and reading.

His mind slowed.

He re-read the writing on the plaque again, and his heart stopped.

He turned and ran, back towards and building he had come from, tearing up the stairs to where the others were.

‘ARLEN!’ he cried. ‘Where is Arlen?’

‘I’m here’ Arlen replied running into the room from the next. He slowed to a stop, eyes wide at the look of shock on Farrell’s face. ‘What is it?’ he asked nervously.

‘The garden’ Farrell gasped, out of breath.

Arlen waited for no more explanation. He rushed past his brother, followed closely by Shawn and some of the other mercenaries.

He ran through the garden, searching feverishly for whatever it was that Farrell had found.

‘Damit what is it?’ Arlen cried in frustration.

‘Here!’ Shawn called, kneeling by something.

Arlen jogged over to him.

His heart instantly plummeted to his feet, body utterly frozen.

He read the plaque again.

Here lies Amaia

Died aged nineteen

A black haired beauty

You will always be remembered

‘Nineteen’ Shawn spoke. ‘That’s how old she would have been. Black haired…… it must be her.’

Arlen turned on his heel.

He walked away.

Arlen stood at the balcony of one of the highest towers, staring out into nothingness.

Inside he felt numb. Felt dead.

Arlen remembered the words he had spoken to his brother. Not that long ago.

Ludus can go fuck herself! I am not the brother you once knew. I don’t pray anymore.

‘I’ve brought this on myself’ he spoke weakly as he climbed onto the balcony’s wall.

It was windy at the top of the tower, and Arlen balanced precariously as he made his careful way forwards along the long wall off rock that jutted out of the tower, like a great spike. At its end, there was nothing but a long drop.

Arlen reached the end of the path, balanced he held his position; half crouched against the uneasy breeze that threatened to topple him off the wall.

Arlen tilted his head down.

It was a very long drop. Below him was the garden, and soft earth. But it wouldn’t matter at this height. Whether he landed on the grassy blanket of the garden or on solid stone, at this height, it wouldn’t make a different in the end.

At this height, nothing would survive.

Arlen stared down, thinking of how fast he would fall, and what it would feel like. He found he didn’t care.

‘Ramana’ he whispered to himself. ‘Amaia…I will see you again.’

But he didn’t move. Not yet. His life was over, he knew this, but he wanted to make the most of what little there was left for him.

The feel of the wind. The touch of the stone below him. The sight of everything in the world that was left for him to see.

Arlen took a deep breath. He blinked slowly.

His heart began to race, as he realised that he was truly about to do this.

He took another deep breath. And leant forward ever so slightly.

‘Arlen!’

He wheeled around suddenly, moving dangerously fast on the thin ledge that he was balanced on.

Shawn stood before him on the balcony a short distance away. Shock and disbelief was written all over him. He held his arms our reassuringly, as if facing a startled deer.

‘What are you doing?’

Arlen immediately whipped a knife from his belt, bringing it to his throat.

‘You can’t stop me!’ he cried. ‘I have made my choice.’

‘Why are you doing this?!’

‘Because!’ Arlen shouted back. He gritted his teeth, beginning to shake, tears brimmed in his eyes and running down his cheeks. ‘I’ve lost the only things in life I truly cared about! First Ramana…and now Amaia……there’s no reason for me to live anymore!’

‘What about the things in life you enjoyed before them? What about all the things you love to do, the people you still care about, who care about you? What about me and my family? What about your brother?!’

‘My brother…’ Arlen hissed shaking his head as hatred filling his heart. ‘Farrell…’

‘Still loves you’ Shawn called to him. ‘Please!’ he reached a hand out to him. ‘Come here! I will help you.’

‘No!’ Arlen called back. ‘There is nothing you can do to change anything now. Amaia is dead. We’re too late. I will meet them again in the afterlife.’

‘Arlen…’ Shawn sobbed, beginning to panic now. ‘Please don’t do this…there are still good things to live for. You still have a future.’

‘What future is there without Ramana? Without Amaia….what if…….what if…’ he began, speaking in a whisper. ’What if she is my daughter…?’

‘You must have faith!’ Shawn called back. ‘Faith in the gods. Faith that life will get better. Faith in possibility!’

‘I have no faith. Not anymore.’ Arlen half-turned away. ‘The gods have failed me, and I have failed the only two people I cared for most in this world.’

Shawn stared at Arlen, watching helplessly as he spoke.

‘It’s all my fault I suppose’ Arlen went on. ‘If I hadn’t cursed the gods…..they wouldn’t have done this. They wouldn’t be punishing me.’

‘So you haven’t lost all of your faith’ Shawn challenged.

Arlen turned his dark eyes onto Shawn.

He smirked then.

‘Very clever’ Arlen shrugged. ‘You caught me out.’

Arlen turned back to the fall.

‘Wait!’ Shawn called out desperately.

‘You’d better have a good reason to change my mind.’

‘How do you know that…?’ Shawn fumbled, unsure of what to say. ‘How do you know it’s really her grave?’

‘A black haired beauty. Eighteen years in age. That’s how old she would have been. You said so yourself.’

‘I spoke too soon’ Shawn hurried. ‘You don’t even know she’s buried there. You said it yourself, you said you saw her with your own eyes wandering the manor. From a distance yes, but don’t you want to know what really happened here?’

Arlen half-turned back to Shawn.

‘It may not have been Amaia that I saw walking the corridors’ Arlen said. ‘Now I think that she mostly likely has been dead long before we came here today.’

‘How do you know?’ Shawn told him. ‘You don’t know if it’s really her grave. You don’t know if she’s really buried there.’

In truth he didn’t realise what he was saying any more. So desperate was he to save Arlen., he would say anything at this point.

‘She might not even be buried there’ Shawn insisted. ‘You still have no idea why the prince took her. Anything could have happened in all those years. This whole thing is a mystery. She might still be alive!’

Arlen turned fully to Shawn now, facing him head on. The wind blew dangerous around him.

‘But that wouldn’t make any sense.’

‘None of this makes sense’ Shawn argued. ‘And if there’s a possibility at she still lives and breathes….would you accept it, no matter how small the chance?’

‘Yes’ Arlen breathed. ‘I would.’

He sheathed the knife.

‘I’ll go back down to the garden’ Shawn told him hastily. ‘I’ll dig up the grave, and if she’s not there……will you come down?’

‘Yes’ Arlen said with surety. ‘But in the meantime, I’m staying here.’

Shawn wheeled around, tearing back down the stairs, running as fast as he could towards the garden.

He found Farrell kneeling before the grave, completely ignoring him; he fell before it, desperately pulling the earth up with his bare hands.

‘What are you doing?’ Farrell asked incredulous.

‘No time to explain’ Shawn gasped in his haste, thinking about Arlen dangling precariously high above them. ‘Just help me dig!’

Farrell obeyed, listening only because of the urgency in Shawn’s voice and not questioning him further.

They dug through the dirt as fast as they could, pulling at the soil and digging deep.

After a short time, the two drew back.

‘How can this be?’ Farrell whispered. ‘There’s nothing here?’

‘I have to tell Arlen’ Shawn huffed, rising to his feet.

‘Wait!’ Farrell called out, running after him.

Farrell dashed after Shawn, following him up the stairs of the tower.

He faltered uncertainly at the sight of his brother, standing far out away from the balcony, hanging dangerously over the drop that was below him, with nothing but his balance to protect him.

‘Arlen!’ Shawn panted. ‘The grave. It’s empty!’

Arlen’s eyes flashed. His attention drifted towards Farrell for reassurance.

‘It’s true’ Farrell breathed. ‘It’s completely empty. She’s not there.’

‘But why…’ Arlen murmured, ‘why would it be there?’

‘Arlen?’ Shawn spoke tentatively, leaning forwards over the wall with his hand extended, earth and dirt ground into his skin and beneath his nails. ‘Come down.’

Arlen stepped carefully forwards along the wall towards Shawn, moving slowly as he went. He took his hand, and Shawn helped him back down onto the balcony and to safe ground.

Shawn embraced Arlen then, letting out the breath he had been holding.

‘Thank the gods’ he sighed in relief. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t…..’

‘This is just the beginning then’ Arlen said, straightening up again, ‘the beginning of our search to replace Amaia. I thought I had her…I was so sure……’

‘She is alive’ Shawn told him. ‘I feel it in my heart.’

‘I feel something too’ Arlen said. ‘I only wish that I am not wrong.’

His attention drifted towards Farrell then. His expression darkened.

‘Come’ he mumbled to Shawn, arm still around his shoulders.

The two walked away, leaving Farrell alone.

Farrell stood on the balcony, hands resting against the cool stone of the wall before him.

The day was dying. The world that stretched far around him was going to sleep. He thought of his task then, the task of replaceing his daughter.

‘Amaia’ he whispered her name on the wind. ’Where are you?’

The vastness of the world lay out like a great map before his eyes. From the tall tower he could see far into the horizon. Great plains before him, mountains behind, rivers and towns and within it all….

There were so many places. So many places she might be. So many places she could be hiding.

‘Where are you Amaia?’ he said again.

His question fell on the deaf ears of the world.

‘I will never stop looking for you. For as long as it takes I will search. To the day I die.’