WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 51: Grief

Amaia was on the ground now, holding her knees up against her chest with her face buried in her folded arms.

‘I always thought my mother might still be alive’ she sobbed, ‘that I might see her someday. I never found out what happened to her. I didn’t know if she had been hurt...’ Amaia brushed away her tears, rising again to her feet. ‘I was so terrified’ she said. ‘I remember hearing the blood pumping in my ears as I ran. For years after I hoped that she would find me, that I would see her again someday.’

’Perhaps she is still alive’ White Feather offered. ‘Perhaps she’s at your home…waiting for you.’

‘For years I wished to believe that.’ Amaia turned back to White Feather with a sad smile. ‘It’s the one thing that’s kept me going for all these years. The thought of seeing my parents again. In my life I’ve never wanted anything else in the world more, than to be reunited with them, and to tell them how much I love them, and how much I have missed them.’ Amaia let out a heavy sigh. ‘But…’ she continued sadly. ’The years have stretched on, and on. I have often thought of escape from this place. But there is no way to escape. The servants have to pass through many many doors to leave this place, and there are guards all around. They stand around like empty suits of armour, with their big helmets, and sharp weapons, their faces always covered…. I believe they are here for my protection as much as they are for my imprisonment. I have thought of escape, but I have not been able to go even as far as attempting it. This palace is a fortress. I’m not even allowed outside, and all the rooms I am allowed in…well…you would not survive a fall from any of the windows. And even if I could somehow get outside……the gardens are guarded also, and the gates around this property are tall.’

‘There really is no way to get out of here?’ White Feather asked her.

Amaia held her hands behind her back as she surveyed him, tilting her head to the side, letting her jet black hair fall over her shoulder. ‘I believe not’ she told him.

‘I can leave however’ White Feather told her. ‘I could do so whenever I want.’

‘I do not have wings like you do’ Amaia replied sorrowfully. ‘How jealous of you I am right now.’

‘I could find your parents’ White Feather told her. ‘You only need to tell me where to go.’

Amaia hesitated at this thought. And for the briefest of moments, hope flickered within her, before being quickly extinguished.

‘But…’ she began, ‘I don’t know where they are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was very young when I was taken’ Amaia explained. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I didn’t know where exactly I lived.’

‘I’m sure there must be a map somewhere in this place’ he told her confidently. ‘We can work it out together.’ He winked at her. ‘Is there a map?’

‘There is. But I don’t know if I could find it, even on a map. I’ve tried before, and failed.’

‘Well’ White Feather grinned slyly moving closer to her, ‘before you didn’t have me.’

Amaia smirked. ‘That’s true.’

‘So’ White Feather began thoughtfully, ‘was it a city in which you lived? Or a town? Or perhaps a small village?’

‘It was a town’ Amaia replied, ‘a small town.’

‘Ok’ White Feather nodded encouragingly. ‘See? We’re getting somewhere.’ He fell silent in thought. ‘Were you by the sea?’

‘No’ Amaia spoke slowly. ‘Not immediately. If you rode a short distance though you would reach it.’

‘Any mountains?’

‘Not for miles away’ Amaia shook her head, ‘but you could see them from my home. Our house was built above the others in the town, upon a hill.’

‘What about lakes, where there any lakes nearby, or rivers?’

‘I don’t think’ Amaia said slowly. ‘There was just a sort of wooded area, a large forest near my home…’ she furrowed her brow as she spoke, finally shaking her head. ‘I can’t remember anything else that would be of any use…gods…it was so long ago…I don’t even remember what the inside of my home looked like…’

‘It’s ok. We’ve got something to go on at least’ White Feather said, not at all discouraged. ‘A small town within riding distance of the sea, within view of mountains and near a forest.’ He placed his hands on his hips. ‘Is that right?’

Amaia gave White Feather a strange look. ‘Yes’ she said uncertainly. ‘It is.’

‘Come on’ White Feather said taking her by the hand. ‘Let’s go find a map.’

Amaia led White Feather through the rooms. There were many large halls within this place, but so many were filled with only paintings and nothing else, they felt empty, and cold. It took several minutes to walk from one end of the building to the other, and it was sooner than that, when White Feather began to complain.

‘I’m not used to so much walking’ he groaned.

‘We’ve been walking for only a few minutes’ Amaia chuckled. ‘You can fly if you want.’

‘I would’ White Feather answered simply. ‘But I would only make you jealous.’

Amaia stopped as they reached the far wall within one of the halls. She craned her head back, gazing up at the colossal painting that filled the entire wall before her.

‘Here’ she said. ‘It’s the map of this kingdom.’

White Feather gasped in awe at it, so beautifully it was painted, so detailed.

‘I thought you would give me a map drawn on paper’ he confessed. ’Or at least something a little smaller.

‘If it’s not suitable, there is another map in one of the other rooms, one of the whole known world.’

‘No no’ White Feather hastened. ‘This is perfectly adequate. Now, let me see.’ He frowned in thought. ‘A small town you say….not too far from the sea...within sight of the mountains….and near a forest…’ White Feather pondered to himself, tapping his chin with a finger. ‘A small town…’ he said again, speaking slowly, ‘like…’ he said, raising a finger and pointing. ‘This?’

White Feather moved across the hall and touched a point on the map, a small town in the bottom right-hand corner.

Amaia unfolded her arms, straightening up as she stared at the place White Feather indicated.

‘That’s it!’ she said in surprise, speaking with certainty, brow creased. ‘I really think….’ She stared at it intently, ‘I think that’s it...’

‘You see’ White Feather gleamed at her. ‘There is hope.’ He turned to her, hugging her briefly before stepping back, still grasping Amaia by the shoulders firmly. ’I will get you out of this place’ he told her, ’I will help you escape, and return you to your parents.’

‘If my mother is still alive’ Amaia said to him, ‘could you…’ she broke off.

‘Don’t worry’ White Feather reassured her. ‘I will make things right. Once I visit your father, he will realise you are still alive, and he will start looking for you.’

‘Do you mean it?’ Amaia asked hopefully. ‘My father is a powerful and respected man; maybe he can…..maybe…’

‘It’s ok’ White Feather said. ‘I will travel to this town to find your parents; then I will come back for you.’

‘Do you promise?’ Amaia asked White Feather anxiously. ‘Do you promise to come back for me? Not to forget me. Not to leave me.’

‘Amaia’ White Feather said kindly, cupping her face in his hands. ‘There is no one in the world you can trust more than me.’

Amaia walked with White Feather, heading to one of the windows.

‘Are you sure you’ll be alright?’ she asked him.

‘I was going to ask the same of you’ he winked. ‘Don’t worry’ he said with confidence, flashing her a grin. ‘I’ll be quite alright.’

The sun was setting at this time, and outside the confines of her home, the world was growing dark.

‘His house is large’ Amaia told him. ‘One of the biggest in the town…there should be a black stallion in the field nearby, if he still has it.’

‘I will find it’ White Feather reassured her. ‘Don’t you worry.’

‘Please be back soon’ Amaia begged of him, watching as he climbed upon the windowsill.

‘I must be back soon’ he bobbed his head at her. ‘I have news to bring.’ And with that, before she could say another word, he shot off, kicking himself off the wall and bringing forth his wings as he did so.

Amaia watched White Feather flutter away on his delicate looking glassy wings, swiftly diminishing to the size of a dot, before disappearing altogether.

Amaia sighed deeply, feeling nervous for news of her parents, and regret at seeing White Feather go. She had known him for only the briefest time, but already she felt a strong bond between them, and a desire for him to be by her side. She didn’t know why, and she couldn’t even begin to explain why she felt the way she did.

‘I’ve only just met him’ she murmured, ‘yet I trust him more than anything.’

Amaia gave a sigh of longing, turning her back to the tempting world beyond her window.

‘How wonderful it must be to have wings to fly’ Amaia said wearily to herself. ‘I wish I could be so lucky.’ sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

That night she spent alone again. Having company with her and losing it so quickly made her feel sad and lonelier than ever.

Tonight, there was a great display outside her window, as the sky was lit up in fireworks. The bright lights shone in the world above the land; she could even hear now the servants celebrating in the kitchen, even through several rooms. Their loud voices were muffled through the walls. It sounded like they were all having a great time.

Amaia realised at that moment what the celebration was, it was one that happened, only once every eighty years. It was a religious holiday that celebrated the first rays of sunlight that shone in the sky after an eighty year long winter. The holy stories tell of the god Ezla imprisoning the goddess Micro for eighty years beneath the rocky earth in a great cavern. He did this because he was madly in love with her, and wanted her for himself. Without the warm in the world that Micro created, everything grew cold. When at last she was freed eighty years later, a great party was held to celebrate her return. And this was the holiday the people rejoiced in. The celebration would begin in the night, and continued for the entire next day. It would stop only when night fell again.

This was a very precious celebration, and one that most would see only once in their lifetime.

And Amaia had missed it. She had hoped to spend it with her family. With her mother and father. The ones she loved.

But it was not to be.

Amaia felt more depressed now than she ever had before. She longed more than ever to have White Feather by her side. She had known him only briefly, and yet she missed him terribly.

‘White Feather’ she sobbed, brushing back tears. ‘Come back soon…’

Night fell, and it was many hours that White Feather travelled, flying without rest. He thought of the map as he travelled, always keeping it in mind as he moved over the landscape; flying in a straight line heading south. He found the small town, and the large manor on the hill. As he flew overhead, he saw there in the field below him, was a single black horse.

‘This must be the right place’ White Feather said to himself with a smile.

He landed upon the roof of the manor, treading lightly on foot. He slipped over the edge of the roof, fluttering before one of the windows; he landed carefully on the narrow ledge before it.

White Feather glanced into the room, seeing between the curtains a spacious bedroom where one man was alone. Lying with his back to the window on a large four-poster bed, the man was still, seemingly in a deep sleep.

White Feather stepped lightly off the ledge, descending in the air, fluttering his wings until he reached the ground. As his feet touched the stone paving before the door, his wings receded into his back and he straightened.

He intended to shrink in size to fit through the keyhole, but saw there was no need, after finding the front door was left unlocked.

White Feather crept through the door and entered the home. It seemed utterly deserted, and he found himself thinking how strange it was for only one man to live in such a large home. As he looked around him, moving through the rooms, he saw neglect everywhere. Dust layered the many ornaments, the coat of arms, the weapons on display; the pictures. The marble floor below him, once perhaps beautiful, was now filthy with dirt and muddy footprints, which had long since dried and hardened.

The rooms felt cold, not only because of the wind that howled through one of the shattered windows nearby, which had not been repaired, but from a lack of love. This home, was barren.

White Feather passed a large painting as he headed towards the stairs, a painting of a small family; farther and mother, and a young child that stood between them.

This must be Amaia White Feather thought as he glanced at the young girl. They all looked so happy in the painting. They were all smiling, and the tall figures standing behind the child, stood close to one another, each with an arm around the other.

White Feather ascended the stairs, heading to the bedroom he had seen through the window, and to the man sleeping in the bed.

He entered the room and approached the bed at the back wall.

White Feather felt sadness well inside him as he saw clearly. The man was truly alone. There was no woman by his side, no mother.

She must have died.

White Feather sighed deeply, pushing aside his sombre thoughts. He reached forwards, and touched the man at the temple, sending magic into his dreams. The man began to stir, as White Feather placed a spell upon him.

It was late the next day when White Feather returned to Amaia’s side. She was fast sleep on her bed. The night was hot and she had left her window open, perhaps to allow a breeze to cool her down, or perhaps she left it open for him to enter by.

White Feather leant over her, shaking her gently awake. Amaia groaned, turning her head towards the disturbance. She opened her eyes, sitting bolt upright at the sight of him.

‘Oh thank the gods you’re back’ she cried. ‘Are my parents ok? Is my mother?’

‘Your father is well’ White Feather answered hastily. ‘I placed a dream inside his head, a spell. When he wakes he will be driven by a strong desire to find you. The spell I placed upon him will make you always in his thoughts.’

‘And my mother?’ Amaia demanded. ‘Was she there?’

White Feather pursed his lips, frowning at her. He shook his head.

‘No’ he said. ‘She was not.’

Amaia turned from him, laying on her front back on the bed and hugging the pillow.

She began to cry.

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