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   Chapter 2 No.2

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5611

Updated: 2018-07-10 12:04

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. Th

eir 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.

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