WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 20: Gods and Camels

‘What would you say to her’ Shawn asked him, ‘if we find her?’

They had been sitting in silence for several hours, and the question completely caught Farrell off guard. He had no idea how best to answer.

What would he say?

‘I don’t know’ Farrell admitted. ‘It’s been so long.’

‘I would tell her how much I have missed her over the years’ Shawn spoke, ‘how her absence has been like a gaping hole in my life…..in my mother’s life……in my sister’s life.’ Shawn lifted his eyes to Farrell, gazing at him from across the dancing fire around which they sat. ‘I would tell her…that I have never forgotten about her, not even for a moment, and that I have longed with all my heart to see her alive and well.’ Shawn lowered his head, falling silent. ‘That is what I would say to her’ he mumbled.

Farrell blinked quickly as he listened to Shawn’s words, feeling hollow within.

‘I’m tired’ Shawn said, grabbing a blanket from nearby and pulling over him. ‘I will see you in the morning.’ He rolled over, lying on his side with his back to Farrell. He quickly became still.

Farrell watched him, feeling a strange sensation inside him, a sensation he could not name, but one mixed with loneliness. He felt so detached from the world, from everything around him. It was as if he didn’t know how to live anymore.

He felt even stranger now setting out to look for his daughter. He wondered what he might find, and where his path would lead. Farrell thought for a moment.

What if she really is alive?

He hardly dared to believe it, to truly believe it.

He wondered what it would be like to meet her. What she might look like. Perhaps a lot like her mother, perhaps a lot like the woman he saw in his dreams.

Farrell took his own blanket from his bags; he quickly put out the fire, before lying down upon the earth to sleep. He listened to Alastor breathing nearby, the stallion’s heavy feet thumping on the ground as he shifted from one leg to the other. Farrell heaved a deep sigh, allowing his body to relax.

He began to dream.

Everything was still. The low sun shone through the columns of the trees, casting long shadows upon the forest floor. He saw a figure in the woods, standing with her back to him. She turned around.

‘I am still alive. Find me….’

Farrell gasped, waking with a jolt. The plains around them were bright with morning light, and Shawn was already awake. He was serving himself a cold breakfast, sitting hunched over with a blanket around his shoulders. It was still early morning, and the nights chill still clung in the air around them.

‘You sleep heavily’ Shawn noted as Farrell sat gingerly up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

‘What time is it?’

‘About seven o’clock’ Shawn replied.

‘We should get going.’

‘What’s the rush?’ Shawn asked.

Farrell chewed his lip.

‘You’re anxious to see her.’

‘I love my daughter’ Farrell replied. ‘To see her face again….I don’t know….it would be the best possible feeling.’

Shawn watched him closely; then continued to eat. ‘You’re probably right. It’s a long way to where we’re going. The journey will take us several days.’

Farrell, who had been rooting through his bag searching for food, came across the letter Arlen had written to Alice and her family. He picked it up tentatively, staring down at it. Within the letter he read, Farrell could see the warmth and compassion Arlen still had for Alice and her family. Even after everything that had happened, even after all those years he had been away, he had never forgotten about Alice, nor his promise to be there for them, after Brice had died.

Farrell found himself wishing he had the same dedication. If he had….perhaps Ramana might still be alive….and Amaia would not have been taken. Perhaps if he had been there for them when they needed him the most, he might have been able to save them, to protect his family like he should have done.

‘Are you coming?’ Shawn spoke up suddenly, breaking Farrell’s thoughts.

Farrell lifted his head to Shawn who was already waiting in the saddle, having already packed up his bags and laden them on his horse.

‘What?’ Farrell stammered.

‘You’re anxious to hurry’ Shawn told him. ‘I am obliging. You can eat in the saddle, or I can wait for you here if you want.’

‘No no’ Farrell said hurriedly. ‘I’m coming.’

Shawn watched as Farrell quickly gathered together his possessions, loading them onto Alastor. As Farrell mounted the saddle, Alastor gave a heavy groan.

‘Are you sure he’s up for such a journey’ Shawn asked with concern as he gazed towards the black stallion.

‘He’ll have to be’ Farrell replied. ‘He’s a bit out of practice for sure, he hasn’t had much exercise in a while…but he’s the only horse I have now.’

‘You have money with you. Perhaps when we reach Stonegate you can buy another younger horse.’

‘No’ Farrell shot quickly. ‘Alastor is very dear to me. He’s all I have left now. I want to be with him to the end. He has perhaps only a few short years left in him, but he has been loyal to me always, and I want to be there for him.’

Shawn gave a shrug. ‘Fair enough.’

He tapped the heels of his own horse, a beautiful chestnut stallion in the prime of his life. Thorn was his name.

‘The land here is flat enough’ Shawn was saying as they rode. ‘Our journey should be easy.’

‘You’ve been this way before?’ Farrell asked, urging Alastor forwards.

‘More than once.’

‘I didn’t know.’

Shawn gave Farrell a sceptical look as Farrell walked his horse beside his.

‘I have left my home on more than one occasion. I will not be confined to such a small town my entire life. I want to see the world.’

‘Is that why you’re coming along with me?’ Farrell asked. ‘To see the world?’

‘No. I am coming with you, to find Amaia. She was very dear to me, and I cared for her greatly. If we find her alive and well…that would be the best moment of my life.’

‘What do you think are the chances of finding her alive?’ Farrell asked Shawn, feeling almost scared for the answer.

‘Very slim’ Shawn replied simply.

‘And you’re still willing to look for her?’

‘It’s been twelve years. The chances of her actually being alive after all this time are next to none. But I will still help search for her, because if there is even the slimmest chance that she has made it, I’ll take it. It’s the best we’ve got. We must pray for her safety, and hope the gods are on our side.’

‘Pray’ Farrell scoffed. ‘What good has ever come from prayer?’

‘Have you ever tried it?’ Shawn asked.

‘No.’

‘Then how do you know it doesn’t work?’

‘Things happen because men make them happen’ Farrell answered. ‘Or because nature makes it happen.’

‘How do you know that the gods do not control what men do?’ Shawn asked. ‘How do you know that the gods do not control nature itself? Could you explain why the wind blows? Or what makes the sun set and the moon glow? Where does one go when the other is present? The gods know all of these things.’

‘How you know anything of the gods’ Farrell asked sceptically. ‘How do you know anything of what you hear from the holy men and women is true? You have no proof.’

‘I do not need proof’ Shawn replied, ‘because I have faith.’

‘Faith’ Farrell laughed dryly. ‘Faith is the excuse people use when they have no other answer. Faith is the excuse people use when there is no evidence.’

‘Then where did we all come from?’

‘Don’t pretend you know the answer to that. I am happy being true to myself in saying that I do not know. I will not make up an answer in order to please myself.’

‘But don’t you ever wonder about things you do not know?’ Shawn asked.

‘No. I care about what I can see and what I know is real.’

‘Than how do you know camels exist? You’ve never seen one.’

‘Because I know people who have seen them.’

‘Arlen has faith. But you do not follow his beliefs.’

Farrell pursed his lips in irritation. ‘Arlen is gullible. The only difference in your argument between gods and camels is that I can travel to where camels live and see them for myself.’

‘But you haven’t’ Shawn argued. ‘You have never seen a camel, and yet you still believe they exist. Funny isn’t it?’

Shawn smirked. He tapped his heels and sent his horse into a trot.

Four days and four nights they travelled, and as Farrell drew closer to the town of Stonegate, he grew ever more nervous. He couldn’t get out of his head the last time he had seen his brother, and last words that Arlen had said to him.

I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!

If I ever see you again, I will kill you.

Farrell felt a shiver down his spine as the memory of the voice rang though his mind; and he wondered how Arlen would react when they met at last. Perhaps he had forgotten that day. Perhaps he had forgiven Farrell; it was twelve years ago after all.

‘Something on your mind?’ Shawn asked him as they rode.

‘No’ Farrell shook his head. ‘Nothing at all.’

It was a long detour around the mountains, but after four sunsets, their destination came into sight.

It was a rancid town, filthy and full of squalor. The cobbled streets were rickety and full of grime, the dirty houses and buildings built close to one another made the whole place feel like a trap. The very air that surrounded the town was dirty, as if the place had its own atmosphere, even the people were filthy.

’This?’Farrell asked. ‘This is where Arlen lives?’

‘Arlen moves from place to place, and yes, this is where he lives at the moment. Have you never been here before?’

‘I’ve travelled a lot in my life’ Farrell admitted, ‘but I’ve never been here.’

They were forced to dismount and walk beside their horses, as it was far easier to lead them on foot as they made their way through the crowed and dank place with its narrow winding roads. Farrell watched the faces of people they passed. Their skin was full of grime, their clothes were poor and many had missing teeth. This was a side-effect of a drug often taken by those who had given up on their own lives, when everything else worth living for was gone. It was very addictive, very expensive, and sold by violent gang leaders for extortionate amounts of money.

Farrell’s hand touched his sword unconsciously and he glanced towards Shawn.

’Do you have any weapons on you?

‘A couple of knives’ Shawn answered back in a murmur, ‘though if it came down to it I can fight bare-fisted if I must.’

‘I don’t doubt.’

Shawn led the way along the road that weaved this way and that; it was as if the road itself wasn’t sure which direction it was going. Several times Farrell glanced around, seeing many eyes upon him.

‘Why do they stare?’ he asked Shawn.

‘Because of your horse’ Shawn replied quickly and quietly. ‘Most have probably never seen a black one. Keep your wits about you; this is a dangerous town to those who can’t protect themselves.’

‘Where are all the women?’ Farrell asked.

‘They only come out at night.’

‘Who protect them?’

‘Whoever owns them.’

Farrell felt a twinge of nervousness as they walked, feeling so lost in this town. It felt as if he had entered a different world entirely.

‘It’s not that far now’ Shawn reassured him.

‘This place seems huge’ Farrell said nervously.

‘It’s not that big, it just feels so because the roads are so twisted.’ He paused, turning back to Farrell. ‘Have you got that letter?’

Farrell produced it from inside his coat pocket and handed it to him. Shawn glanced at it with a bored expression, looking over the address briefly, before handing it back to Farrell.

‘It’s this way’ Shawn pointed.

Farrell followed him down the dark alley.

Sometime later Shawn stopped suddenly.

‘What is it?’ Farrell asked.

‘We’re here.’

Farrell looked up at the building that stood beside them. It seemed to be some kind of inn, though not the kind that Farrell had seen before. This one was not warm and welcoming; at first glance Farrell hadn’t even recognised it as an inn at all.

‘Come on’ Shawn said. ‘We can tie the horses at the back.’

Alastor and Thorn were left outside the inn in a small courtyard away from the alley. Shawn and Farrell entered the main doors of the inn at the front.

Farrell stood in the entrance, taking in the environment around him.

It was a crowded place, and dark. There were blankets covering the windows, and burning candles dotted about the place kept back total the darkness. Many hunched figures sat around tables drinking, despite it being the middle of the day.

‘Wait here’ Shawn murmured to him. ‘I’ll go ask at the bar.’

Farrell watched Shawn walk away, feeling suddenly alone and out of his depth.

A figure sitting by one of the tables lifted his heavy eyes, seeing Shawn walking through the inn. His attention slid towards the door, towards Farrell.

The figure stiffened suddenly. He patted the waist of the long red haired woman who sat on his lap, indicating for her to get off him.

The figure slowly stood.

Farrell watched Shawn lean upon the bar, speaking to the barman in a low voice. He saw movement to his side. Farrell jerked his head back suddenly; the knife just missed him by inches. He wheeled around to the direction the knife had come from. All around the room people had frozen, some in mid conversation, some with tankards half-way to their lips.

Everything was suddenly silent.

Farrell searched, but he could not find the culprit in the many faces that stared at him. He looked at each and every man whom he thought might have thrown the dagger, but his attention sailed right past the man he was searching for. His brother.

Suddenly one of the men began to chuckle. Farrell’s attention turned straight to him, but still there was no flicker of recognition.

‘Who do you think you are?’ the man said, ‘to show your face here?’

‘Who are you?’ Farrell asked him as the man slowly approached him

‘Come now. I know I must have changed a lot over the years but you can recognise my voice at least?’

‘Arlen?’ Farrell said incredulous.

Arlen sneered back at him.

‘Is that really you?’ Farrell asked.

Arlen was no longer the young and handsome, clean-shaven princely figure Farrell had once known. Now he was different, and in so many ways, not only his appearance, but his aura as well. He seemed bigger, more muscular, as if he had spent years fighting. There were little scars here and there over his body, on his face and arms. He was missing a finger from each hand, and his nose looked as if it had been broken at least once. He had grown a beard now, something Farrell had never seen on him before, and he had dark makeup painted around his eyes. Like a pirate or a gypsy. Or a whore.

‘Look at you’ Farrell gasped. ‘You’ve changed...’

‘The years have a way of changing people’ Arlen replied coolly.

Farrell’s shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply.

‘Brother…’

In an instant Arlen was before him, moving faster and with more precision than Farrell thought possible of him. He slashed Farrell’s arm, causing him to stumble back. He had cut him deep.

‘Arlen…what…?’

Farrell managed to draw his sword in time to block the next attack. He stared at Arlen; his teeth were bared in anger as he snarled hatefully back at Farrell.

‘I am not your brother’ Arlen whispered dangerously.

‘You’ve still not forgiven me then?’ Farrell asked sadly, arm beginning to shake as he grasped his sword, holding Arlen back. ‘Even after all this time?’

‘A thousand million years could pass,’ Arlen screamed at him, ’and I would still not forgive you!’

He pushed Farrell back, and the crowd around them began to cheer, rising from their seats and moving away to clear a space, some even standing on tables to watch. The barman however watched only with disinterest as he carried on with his work, like he had seen this a thousand times before.

‘A great arena’ Arlen called jovially throwing his arms out. ‘As good as any I suppose.’

‘I will not fight you’ Farrell spoke firmly.

‘That’s a shame’ Arlen sighed relaxing slightly. ’Because if you don’t fight……you’ll die.’

He lunged forward, swinging his sword. The crowd began to clap and cheer and roar in approval.

‘Arlen!’ Farrell called. ‘Please stop this!’

Arlen ignored his brother’s cries, lunging to strike him again. Farrell again blocked the next blow. Farrell parried and danced out of the way, never moving to attack, only the defend himself.

‘I won’t hurt you brother’ Farrell shouted back at him.

‘Then I hope you enjoy it in the afterlife’ Arlen sneered dryly. ’Send me a postcard while you’re there. Perhaps you will find Ramana, and you can beg her for forgiveness.’

Farrell gritted his teeth; it was his turn to sneer now.

‘Arlen’ he said, lowering his sword and taking a step towards him.

Arlen drew quickly back away from him, twirling his sword in the air. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Farrell lifted his weapon, advancing towards his brother, ready to attack.

‘Don’t you speak of Ramana.’

Arlen began to cackle at him. ‘Have I gotten under your skin?!’

Farrell’s face contorted with rage as he moved closer towards Arlen, raising his sword to strike. He halted suddenly in his tracks; a look of utter shock crossed his face. The sword he held slipped from his grasp.

‘What’s happening to me?!’ Farrell whispered.

He turned from Arlen, stumbling and grabbing onto a table for support. He looked towards his arm where Arlen had cut him.

‘Poison’ he gasped. ‘How…could…?’

He collapsed, now on all fours, gasping and struggling to breathe.

‘I told you’ Arlen sang. ‘I told you didn’t I? That if I ever saw you again I would kill you. You should have listened.’

‘Arlen…’ Farrell groaned, shaking as he struggled to push himself up again.

‘Your heart will stop soon’ Arlen said casually. ‘Make the most of life now while you can.’

Farrell began to pale. His vision clouded over, as his whole body began to shake violently. His grip slipped from the table edge and he fell to the floor again.

‘Please!’

Arlen jerked his head around to another figure who had thrown himself to his knees before him.

‘Please’ Shawn begged him. ‘Please don’t kill him.’

‘He must die’ Arlen told him coldly.

‘Farrell has seen the error of his ways’ Shawn cried, grabbing onto the bottom of Arlen’s coat. ‘He has come to you to make amends.’

‘It is too late!’ Arlen snarled down at him. ’Ramana is dead!’

‘But Amaia might still be alive’ Shawn whispered. ‘We’ve come to you together to ask for your help in finding her.’

‘What makes you think she is still alive?’

Shawn glanced back at Farrell who lay on the floor, his breath shallow now. He was almost utterly still. Shawn looked back at Arlen.

‘He has had a vision’ Shawn urged. ‘He believes Amaia might still be alive.’

Arlen lifted his painted eyes to his brother calmly.

‘It doesn’t matter’ he replied. ‘He’s dead.’

Shawn swung round to Farrell. His body was completely still as if frozen in time, his breath no more, and his eyes stare blankly.

It was true.

He was dead.

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