WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 8: Fun with Paint

A few days later

Farrell twirled his sword one more time before swinging at Brice.

‘You’re showing off again aren’t you?’ Brice frowned in annoyance blocking the attack.

Farrell smirked at his brother, pushing him back. They continued to fight for several minutes until Brice stepped back, straightening up and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, breathing deeply.

‘Very good’ Brice laughed.

‘Let’s take a rest’ Farrell said, nodding towards a tree stump.

They sat side by side; getting their breath back and watching the clouds drift by lazily above them.

‘I’ve been thinking’ Brice said.

‘About what?’

Brice smiled to himself. ’Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Shawn with us the other day. He’s been going on none stop about his next…adventure…’ he shook his head. ‘He tells me constantly how he longs for action. Every day he asks me when we will be going out to fight again.’

Farrell chuckled under his breath.

‘If he is half as good a soldier as you are’ Brice said to Farrell, ‘then I will be very happy.’

‘I believe he will be ten times the soldier I am.’

‘You think too little of yourself’ Brice argued.

‘As do you’ Farrell laughed back.

Brice smirked beside him.

‘Do you remember when we were children?’ Farrell asked his brother. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘Oh how we used to dream’ Brice sighed.

‘Are you happy in life?’ Farrell asked, his tone turning a little more serious.

Brice smiled widely. ‘I couldn’t be happier. I have everything I could possibly have wished for. A beautiful family, a decent reputation…and…well…’ he shrugged. ‘I don’t want anything else really.’ He glanced back at Farrell. ‘What about you?’

‘Well’ Farrell shrugged. ‘I became the soldier I wanted to be, and while I don’t yet have the son I wished for, I love my daughter more than anything. Even though she can be as difficult as her mother.’

‘How come you haven’t had another child yet?’ Brice asked him.

‘I don’t know’ Farrell said glumly, slumping his shoulders and resting his chin on his palm. ‘Ramana just….doesn’t want any more children.’

‘Never?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Maybe she will change her mind.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I know’ Brice said livening up. ‘Why don’t we ask Arlen to join us in our next fight?’

‘Arlen…’ Farrell mumbled. ‘It makes me sad…he’s never seemed to have found a place in life.’ Farrell went quiet. ‘I still feel guilty for taking her away from him’ he whispered to himself in a voice barely audible. ‘I had hoped…’

‘Speak up!’ Brice barked loudly beside him, breaking his train of thought. ‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing’ Farrell shrugged him off. ‘Come on. Let’s go find Arlen.’

They left their practice swords were they were and went to find their brother.

‘So what is it you’re praying for this time?’ Brice asked him a short time later, crossing his arms and staring down at Arlen who knelt before the statue Zeana.

Arlen lifted his head to the goddess before him, a depiction of a woman with great curved horns, pointed ears and eyes that were covered by her own long hair tied around her head.

‘I pray’ Arlen spoke, his voice echoing throughout the large hall, ‘that Amaia lives a good long life, and dies happy of old age.’

‘You ask favours from imaginary beings?’ Farrell scoffed. ’Do you really think your prayers will actually be answered?’

‘You just cannot help but mock my faith’ Arlen growled back at him.

‘Sorry brother…’

‘You keep saying that’ Arlen shot back. ‘But if you really meant it then you would stop doing it.’

‘We were wondering’ Brice interrupted, ‘if you would like to practice fighting with us.’

‘No’ Arlen droned. ‘You would only win.’

‘All the more reason to practice with us’ Brice tempted.

‘No’ Arlen droned again. ‘I’ve better things to do.’

Arlen moved away from them, leaving his brothers shrugging and sighing in exasperation.

‘Alright’ Farrell said. ‘Don’t say we didn’t try to invite you.’

Arlen ignored the both of them, and so Brice and Farrell turned away, leaving him to pray in the temple like he always did.

It was on one day that Farrell was absent, off dealing with soldier business, that Amaia was given free reign of the house. Running up and down the stairs and the corridors with her cousin Gracie throughout the house, with the little green bird named Yayew chasing them.

‘Oh they have so much fun with that silly bird’ Alice said to Ramana, frowning in amusement as the girls ran by once more. The bird hobbled after them, struggling to keep up, flapping its wings as it hurried on by. It had grown considerably since they had first found it, though it had not flown yet.

‘They do like to play their games’ Ramana smiled as she poured more tea.

‘You know Gracie insists on letting it eat at the table’ Alice said as Ramana pushed another cup of tea towards her. ‘And sleep in her bed.’

‘Amaia is the same’ Ramana laughed. ‘She misses it dearly when it’s not around.’

‘I must ask you a favour if I may’ Alice said suddenly changing the subject. ‘I have some things to sort at home and I need another woman’s opinion. My husband is no help at all.’

‘Of course’ Ramana nodded eagerly. ‘I would be more than happy to help, whatever you need.’

‘Good. Well I must be leaving now’ Alice said finishing off her tea quickly and rising. ‘Come now Gracie, we’re going home.’

Alice took her daughters hand, embracing Ramana at the door before leaving.

‘It was good to see you’ Alice said.

‘I hope you visit again soon’ Ramana replied.

Amaia waved at them as they moved away, standing beside her mother with the bird in her arms. Once they had gone, Ramana struggled to shut the heavy front door, cursing under her breath.

Amaia had wandered off to play with the bird, and Ramana, exhausted from entertaining the two children before Alice had arrived, collapsed on the sofa to rest.

She sighed heavily, resting with a pillow over her face to shield the light from her eyes. She stayed here for a long while, dozing off in the warm patch of sunlight that shone through the window and across her body.

It was just as she was teetering between dreaming and consciousness, that she heard a loud and sudden noise from nearby.

Ramana opened her eyes wide. The shock of such a racket so unexpected caused her heart to race. She sat up, looking in the direction where the noise had come from.

She rose and crossed the hall, entering her painting room; she saw what had caused the din.

Her favourite painting, the scene of woodland with a doe in the foreground, had been knocked off its easel, alongside a stack of paint pots that had been piled up nearby. There was a large puddle of red paint that stained an entire corner of the painting, around which were the footprints of a bird and a small child. These led to the culprits. Amaia stood guiltily at the back of the room, knowing she had done wrong, and holding her bird in her arms. Red paint still dripped from its feet onto her dress.

Ramana let go of the door handle, allowing the door to slowly swing open. She stood there, staring at her daughter in shocked silence.

Amaia was frozen, staring back, waiting for a reaction.

Ramana walked into the room, stepping over the painting and standing before her daughter.

She knelt down, and embraced her, holding Amaia tightly. Amaia sighing with relief that she was not being told off, held her mother back with one arm, still holding the bird with the other.

‘Why don’t you play outside Amaia?’ Ramana suggested kindly.

‘What for?’

Ramana slapped her lightly, running her hand across Amaia’s cheek as her daughter tried to squirm away.

‘Because’ Ramana said, laughing at the paint she had just smeared across her daughter’s face. ‘We don’t want you make a mess of the house do we?’

‘Don’t we?’ Amaia argued, escaping from her grasp and grabbing an entire pot of paint nearby. ‘But it would be more fun inside.’

She threw the entire contents of the pot at her mother, covering her in a layer of sloppy pink.

‘Amaia!’ Ramana screamed in shock. She fell silent quickly however, noticing several more pots unopened beside her.

Amaia noticed this, screaming in false terror and running from the room as her mother reached out for another pot. The bird Amaia had dropped scurried after her, and the two fled from the room, with Ramana hot on their tails.

Just outside the little town, a group of soldiers were returning home. Their pace slow, Farrell, Arlen and Brice were among them. They began to split, each heading their own separate way home after a long day of travelling and fighting. Even the horses seemed grateful at the familiar sights of the buildings ahead of them.

‘Lords I’m glad to be back’ Arlen huffed.

‘We were only gone for a day’ Brice argued.

‘I know’ Arlen replied. ‘But I’m getting so bored with the same old routine.’

‘And I’m getting bored with your constant whining’ Brice shot.

‘Enough’ Farrell interrupted loudly. ‘Stop it both of you.’

Arlen scowled at them, tapping the heels of his horse and trotting away.

‘Gods what’s the matter with him?’ Brice grumbled.

‘Don’t let him get to you’ Farrell told his brother. ‘He will only do it more.’

They walked their horses onwards for a short distance before Brice spoke again.

‘I will see you next time brother’ Brice smiled as he turned his horse down another path.

‘When next we fight maybe’ Farrell nodded back. ‘Or perhaps sooner.’

Farrell made his way back home, and Brice made his way back to his. When Brice entered the kitchen of his home, he was greeted by his wife.

‘Oh’ he said suddenly, as a thought struck him.

‘Is everything alright husband?’ Alice asked.

‘Yes. I just remembered that I lent Farrell my shield. I’d better go and get it.’

‘It can wait until tomorrow surely’ Alice reasoned.

‘I’ll be quick’ Brice said kissing her briskly. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine until I get back.’

Farrell walked up the long path to his home, unloading Alastor and releasing him into the field. The horse immediately began to prance around him mares, tossing his head proudly. Foals were scattered throughout the field now, some played together, others stuck close to their mothers, and Alastor the mighty stallion, watched over his heard with pride. Some of the foals were black like their father. They would fetch a very high price when they matured, so valuable that black horses were.

‘How lucky you are’ Farrell said to him, ‘to have so many children and a family to protect.’

Alastor was a good father to his foals, attentive and gentle with his offspring.

Farrell smirked at the stallion, reaching down to the saddle he had unloaded from the horse, he realised suddenly that he still had the shield he had borrowed from Brice. He quickly put it away in the stables with the saddle, deciding he would give it back later. He made his way back to his home.

When he entered the door, what he saw before him made him freeze in shock.

‘What the hell…?!’

Paint of rainbow colours had been thrown all over the house, all over the entrance hall, up and down the stairs, the chandeliers, the corridors and all the furniture and walls.

‘Ramana!’ Farrell cried in fury. ‘What have you done?!’

‘Heads up!’ came a voice from above him.

Farrell jerked his head up suddenly to the balcony above him, just as Ramana emptied the entire contents of a paint pot over his head.

‘Dam you woman!’ he bellowed, wiping the blue paint from his eyes. ’What is the matter with you?’

He was suddenly attacked from the side by a small figure, which he was quickly able to over power. Amaia called for help, Ramana rushed to her aid. Farrell’s initial anger dissipated as the three wrestled in a ridiculous pile on the open doorway. The bird, confused at what was going on ran in circles around them, chirping loudly. He too was covered in blue paint.

The commotion slowly died down as one by one the three of them noticed a figure standing at the open doorway, and the bird, noticing the others had fallen silent, had ceased its noise too.

Brice stared wide eyed down at the three of them, all on the floor in a big tangle of limbs with multicolour paints in their hair and on their hands and faces and all their fine clothes.

Brice dumbfounded, was finally able to speak.

‘I forgot why I came’ he said, before turning on his heel and walking away.

When he had gone, Ramana threw her head back, laughing hysterically.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.