WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 1: Ambition

Arlen flicked back the fishing rod. The thin string attached sailed through the air as it was cast back into the water, this time a little further away than before. He leant forwards, holding the simple fishing rod with one hand and resting with his chin upon his knee. His other leg dangled above the water on the short wooden platform he sat on.

The fish were teasing him. Already he had thrown bread crumbs into the water, which they had snapped up in an instant, but they would not chase the lure. Arlen became ever more frustrated as he watched the small thin fish move in a shoal around the wriggling worm on the hook. Arlen moved the rod, trying to coax the fish. One came closer, looking as if it were about to bite.

But then came a noise. His brothers swung above the water of the pond on the rope swing they had made, letting go of the rope in mid swing and flying through the air. Their hollering was abruptly cut short as they hit the water, one after the other. Arlen alarmed looked back at the shoal of fish, they had scattered.

Losing his patience he threw the rod down into the water below him.

‘You idiots’ he shouted to his brothers when they surfaced. ‘You scared the fish away!’

They weren’t listening, instead continued to wrestle with each other in the water. Farrell, the youngest being eleven years old, broke free, swimming as fast as he could towards the platform Arlen sat on. He was swiftly being followed by Brice the eldest, who was sixteen.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Arlen huffed when they reached him.

‘Relax Mr Serious Face’ the youngest, Farrell sang happily. ’Why are you so up-tight all the time?

‘Stupid shrimp’ Arlen glowered at Farrell.

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‘Guys, will you give it a rest?’ Brice the oldest shot back.

He hauled himself up onto the platform, sitting beside Arlen. He reached down into the water, helping Farrell out of the pond. The three brothers sat side by side

‘You never answered our question’ Brice said to Arlen. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’

Farrell peered around the eldest brother to get a better look at Arlen, waiting eagerly for a response.

‘I don’t want to say’ Arlen replied.

‘Why not?’ Farrell chirped.

‘You’ll laugh.’

Farrell and Brice shared a glance.

‘We’ve already told you what we want to be’ Brice told him. ‘You have to tell us now.’

‘I don’t have to tell you anything if I don’t want to’ Arlen answered stubbornly. ‘And anyway, everyone wants to be a soldier, though I don’t understand why. Look at what happened to father.’

‘But think of the honour’ Brice pressed. ‘Think of the women.’

‘Women aren’t objects’ Arlen glared sullenly.

‘I didn’t say they were’ Brice answered defensively. ‘I’m just saying…think of the women.’ ‘Women love a man who can fight, they find them more attractive’ Farrell added.

‘How do you know?’ Arlen asked.

‘Think about it’ the eldest brother replied. ‘A man who can fight can protect his family. Not many people would mess with a well trained soldier holding a sword. And women need a strong man to defend the family and home.’

‘I want to have a wife to protect’ Farrell told Arlen. ‘And a son I can raise to fight.’

Arlen went silent in thought.

‘I’m going to be the best soldier I can be’ Farrell said folding his arms, looking smug and nodding to himself. ‘I’m going to be a General and have my own army, and fight by day and by evening I will count my gold in my keep. And when my son is old enough, he can do the same.’

‘You see’ Brice said speaking to Arlen again. ‘Even shrimpy here thinks he can win a fight.’

‘Stop calling me that!’

‘So?’ Brice persisted, ignoring his youngest brother’s protests. ‘What do you want to be, a soldier?’

‘I don’t want to be a soldier.’

‘Oh? Are we one step closer to getting an answer from you?’ Brice teased.

The youngest brother Farrell had now fallen silent, listening again as he waited patiently for his brother’s answer.

‘Tell us.’

‘Promise you won’t laugh’ Arlen told them.

‘I promise by the seven gods that I won’t laugh’ Farrell called out, speaking louder than was necessary and putting his hand on his heart.

‘And I will try my best’ Brice added.

‘Ok.’ Arlen took a deep breath. ‘I want to be…a husband.’

His palms began to sweat as he waited nervously for his brother’s reaction.

For the longest time neither of them spoke, or even moved.

Then suddenly, Farrell burst out in gales of laughter, and Brice soon followed.

‘You promised!’ Arlen protested.

‘I’m sorry’ Brice gasped, wiping away tears from his eyes. ‘I can’t help it.’

Arlen lifted his foot and shoved Brice back into the water. Brice fell off the platform, hitting the water in an undignified manner. Farrell tried in vain to flee, before he too was grabbed and thrown into the pond.

Once the two were in the water together, they turned on Arlen, each grabbing a leg and pulling him off the platform and into the water with them. Arlen fell in; fighting for air he broke the surface, coughing and spluttering, having swallowed a mouthful of water. He soon recovered, turning on his brothers in the water and going after them, swearing vengeance. The two guilty culprits turned and swam away in a panicked manner, making as much noise and splashes as possible. They tried to escape their brother, pretending to be terrified of his wrath, and all the while teasing him as they made their slow way across the pond and to the other side.

Fifteen years later

The black stallion reared up high, neighing and pawing the air, full of energy, full of life. The rider held on tightly, sat upon a finely crafted saddle, and pulling back on the reins hard.

The stallion’s front feet landed back on the ground and the rider kicked the horse’s flank, urging the creature onwards.

The two raced through the fields and woodlands, as fast as the stallion could go. The wind wiped the hair of the rider, making his eyes water as they travelled at such speeds. They raced across the countryside, moving as one. The stallion obeying every command from his rider, every jump, every pull of the reins, no matter how light, they soared onwards towards the town before them, drawing ever closer with every breath.

People working in the fields glanced up as they went by, heading towards the centre of the small town. A crowd waited for the man and the stallion to return, cheering and applauding as the two of them came into view. The man wheeled his horse around; the mighty and beautiful stallion pranced in a circle, throwing its head back. The man reached towards the sheath at his belt, pulling forth a long sword and holding it up for all to see, with the tip pointed upwards towards the sky.

The crowd cheered again, roaring loudly together. Farrell dismounted his horse proudly, striding towards one of the men in the crowd, opening his arms out with warmth in his heart.

‘Farrell’ Brice said as he embraced his brother.

‘Isn’t he a magnificent beast?’ Farrell asked Brice, patting his shoulder roughly.

‘He certainly is’ Brice nodded towards the stallion enviously. ‘How does he ride?’

‘Couldn’t be better’ Fallen glowed. ‘He is fast, and tireless. We passed some children playing with firecrackers, jumping around and making all sorts of noise. But he was not nervous, not in the slightest; he didn’t even seem to notice them at all.’

‘He is very well trained’ Brice replied. ‘He has no equal.’

‘Save for the king’s horse’ Farrell contradicted with a grin.

Horses were held in high regard in the kingdom they lived in, and were often used in battle. The colour of a horse indicated the rider’s status in society, most soldiers had horses coloured chestnut or grey, or bearing more than one colour or shade. The king and the royal family were the only ones in the kingdom to own pure white horses, these were very rare. Jet black horses on the other hand were earned, given by the king as gifts only to those the king found deserving, those that had done great deeds, or had a substantial amount of money to buy one themselves.

‘And who would have thought’ Brice went on, laughing and shaking his head, ‘my little brother would rise above me and become the highest ranking soldier in the kingdom, and from this small town where nothing of interest normally happens.’ He laughed again. ‘From this day on, every soldier in the kingdom answers to your word.’

Farrell could not suppress a smile. ‘I know. I hardly dare to believe it myself.’ His eyes passed over the faces of the many men within the small town square, watching him with admiration, jealousy, and loyalty all at once.

‘But where is Arlen?’ Farrell asked his elder brother, realising he was not present.

‘I don’t know’ Brice admitted, ‘but I know where he might be.’

‘Don’t tell me’ Farrell droned, raising an eyebrow.

‘Praying’ the two brothers voiced simultaneously.

The brothers entered the holy building, marching side by side down the long corridor that was the entranceway. It was a tedious walk. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floors as they passed over the intricate designs that were lined in silver. The smooth walls either side of them were of blank stone, greys and blacks in colour. And as they reached the end of the corridor at last, before them stood a tall, magnificent stained glass window which depicted a female figure, a goddess. On one side she outstretched her arm, on the other, her wing curled around her body. She was lifted in the sky, and her hair which was short and gold and wavy, shone down upon the farmland at her feet like rays of the sun.

The brothers reached this beautiful masterpiece, but didn’t bother to spare it even the briefest of glances. There were two archways, one either side of the stained glass which led to the main body of the temple, here is where the people prayed. The brothers entered through one of the archways, and into a massive circular hall. A great fire, forever burning was lit behind the stained glass, lighting up the image of the goddess to be admired by those who entered. The temple inside was dimly lit, with a very high ceiling in which the shadows clung, and very few windows in which the sunlight struggled to pass through its narrow gaps. Most of the place was lit by torches, and the smell of incense was overpowering.

Farrell stifled a cough as he entered, covering his mouth and trying his best not to feel so out of place. He nodded respectfully to a small group of women, wearing white dresses lined in light blue; and white cloths that covered their hair. These were holy women, those who cared for the temple.

‘I can hardly breathe in here’ Brice complained, squinting as if the stuffy atmosphere affected his sight.

‘There he is’ Farrell pointed as he spotted their brother.

Composing himself he made his way over to him, passing through the hall and weaving around the many statues and depictions of the gods and goddesses. The room looked almost like a museum, with pieces of art and beautiful murals all around them. And dotted here and there around the statues of their deities, were little red cushions and stools meant for praying. Their middle brother Arlen, was on his knees upon one of these cushions, head bowed. He prayed before the statue of the god Faeroe. A god in the shape of a man, there was a great spiked disk on his back, fox-like ears upon his head, and a long lizard-like tail sweeping around his stone feet. In his hand, he bore a great staff, in the other he wore a strange sort of glove where the fingers extended into knives.

Farrell and Brice stood behind their brother. Farrell cleared his throat obviously, and Arlen lifted his head.

‘You need not trouble yourselves with me’ Arlen spoke, knowing instinctively that both his brothers were there without having to look.

‘Trouble ourselves?’ Brice gave a disapproving expression. ‘We do not trouble ourselves with you. You’re our brother.’

‘Why do you pray so much anyway?’ Farrell asked him.

‘There are many people who send their prayers to the gods’ Arlen replied. ‘I must pray often so that I get noticed.’

‘And what do you pray?’

‘I pray’ Arlen said, ‘that when I meet the right woman, I can give her a good home, safety and wealth.’

‘Shouldn’t you pray to meet the right woman first?’ Brice suggested. He and Farrell dissolved into sniggers.

‘You may laugh’ Arlen replied carelessly. ‘But some of us believe.’

‘Forgive me brother’ Brice apologised. ‘I did not mean any offense by it.’

‘No matter’ Arlen replied curtly, rising to his feet. ‘They are watching you as well.’

‘I don’t know why you buy into this holy nonsense’ Farrell said shaking his head. ‘There are no gods, and there is no one watching us. All of this’ he said indicating the temple around them, ‘is made up by men.’

‘If you say so’ Arlen said, turning to him finally. ‘Do you like your new horse?’

Farrell sighed wearily at him.

That evening, they celebrated.

Arlen agreed to go along with his brothers only reluctantly, and allowed himself to be dragged away from the holy temple he loved so much, and to other parts of their small town. There was only one inn where they lived, and this is where Arlen found himself, hours later, watching his younger and elder brother down mug after mug of ale.

He heaved a heavy sigh, thumping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his fist, his other hand around his one mug of ale he had barely sipped yet.

‘Cheer up brother’ Farrell slurred, slipping forwards and spilling the contents of his mug everywhere.

Arlen drew back in distaste, flicking the ale spilt on the table back at his brother.

‘Keep your drink on your half of the table.’

‘Oi’ Farrell cried indignantly, trying to hide from the splashes as Arlen continued to flick at him. ‘Stop that!’

Brice cackled hysterically at this. Leaning too far back he fell off his stool and hit the floor, legs waving in the air ridiculously, at which point Farrell began to cackle also.

Arlen groaned into his hand, ignoring his brothers as Brice picked himself up off the floor, and then picked a fight with Farrell.

The two became locked in a drunken fistfight in which neither was able to land a punch.

Arlen rose from the table and walked away, hearing the sound of bodies crashing into tables behind him, and the disgruntled reaction from the other guests. He left the inn, heading home.

It was getting dark outside he noticed with regret, thinking of all the time he had wasted watching his brothers get wasted. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, bringing along in its wake the coming darkness.

Arlen hesitated then, noticing a female figure silhouetted against the sky before him. She was sitting upon a low wall, with the failing light behind her. He had to squint to see who it was.

‘Mandy?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘Is that you?’

He heard her teasing chuckle, and watched as she uncrossed her legs, sliding off the wall and sauntering towards him.

He drew in a breath as she came closer to him, lifting her head to his so that their faces were inches apart. She gleamed at him seductively.

‘Arlen’ she purred. ‘It’s such a coincidence for you to run into me like this.’

‘Uh…you looked like you were waiting for me’ he stammered.

‘Well…’ a devious glint shone in her eyes. ‘I guess some people are just drawn together.’

He stumbled back away from her, and into the wall of the building behind. Mandy giggled at this, hunching her shoulders as she did so.

‘Such a shy little thing you are’ she went on. Mandy glided towards him, the hem of her skirt lifted as she moved. ‘One might think that you’ve never been with a girl before.’ She leant forwards, resting her hand upon the wall behind him, trapping him further. ‘But I know that cannot be true, not with all the women that are chasing you.’

’But I have never been with a girl before’ Arlen protested.

Mandy hesitated.

‘What?’ she laughed.

‘I…I mean…’ Arlen stammered, ‘…not serious…I’ve not…found someone. Not the right one…yet…’ He gave a nervous laugh.

Mandy raised an eyebrow uncertainly at him. She remained standing over him.

‘There are no women chasing me’ Arlen denied, showing his hands and waving at her, his heart hammering in his chest.

‘Don’t give me that’ she frowned. ‘Half the women in this town grovel after you, and the other half are either too old to remember what goes where, or too young to know what goes where.’

Arlen slumped his shoulders, heaving a dramatic and heavy sigh.

‘It’s just so hard’ he whined, suddenly sounding desperately sad. ‘I wish I had more time to myself, but my poor mother…she is sick. I spend so much time trying to make her better. She hardly recognises me most of the time. Her eyesight is failing, as is her memory. She still thinks my father is alive; she calls for him….it’s so tragically sad…’ He covered his face with his hands, shaking his head as if in denial. ‘My father died in the war years ago, but she’s forgotten. I have to keep pretending that he’s on his way home, or she will be driven mad through grief and kill herself on the very spot.’

‘That’s terrible’ Mandy cried, backing away, concern and sorrow was written all over her face.

‘I know!’ Arlen forcibly suppressed a smirk, before looking up at her again. ‘She is so terribly confused all the time, I have to lock her in her room, or else she will fall down the stairs! The other day she tried to climb out of the window. I had to run outside to try to catch her!’

‘Poor dear’ Mandy sympathised.

‘I was just on my way to give her her medicines. If she doesn’t get her medicines, then she spends all night screaming that there are bats coming out of her ears.’

‘Well you had better hurry’ she told him.

‘I will’ Arlen hastened. ‘I only left her for a brief moment; I only hope that I make it back in time. Anything could have happened in the time I’ve been away.’

‘Don’t keep her waiting then’ she urged.

‘I won’t’ Arlen said, tip toeing around her. ‘I just hope that this time she will recognise me, and not try to set me on fire on sight.’

He ran away from her, not even waiting for a response. He muttered one word under his breath as he rounded a corner.

‘Idiot.’

Arlen ran the rest of the way home, scurrying as fast as he could to avoid running into anyone else.

When he reached his house he slammed the door after him and bolted it, locking himself in. He stood leaning against the door, waiting for his breath to return to him.

Arlen let out a deep sigh, straightening up and taking in the environment around him.

His home was small, tiny in fact. Downstairs was just a single room, the kitchen, the bathroom was out back. There was a table, and only one chair to sit on. Arlen felt distain purely from looking at it, thinking of how it needed a woman’s touch to make it feel better. Some flowers, some fresh paint on the walls. A picture here and there would make the place far homelier that it was. But no woman would want to live here, how could he raise a family in such a tiny house?

He sighed again miserably, ascending the steep stairs up to the floor above, where there was again, just one tiny room. And this was where he slept.

Arlen lay back on the double bed, thinking of how large and cold it felt sleeping in it alone.

He stared up at the ceiling, where the thick layer of coble webs held dust in carpets upon them. He didn’t want to breathe too heavily while looking up, in case some fell on him. He didn’t like spiders, and hated even more the sight and feel of coble webs.

Arlen rolled over on his side, not even bothering to take his boots off. He closed his eyes, drifting gradually into sleep.

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