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   Chapter 48 No.48

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5340

Updated: 2018-07-10 12:04

A strange feeling of trepidation seeped into him, chilling his skin. Something felt very wrong to him, and Arlen wondered who the men were and what they were doing near his town home. A small and unremarkable place on the corner of the map; a place of little consequence where little ever happened. But more than anything else, the thing that concerned him the most, was why the men were in such a hurry. What had happened for there to be need of such haste?

He turned the other way, glancing to the direction the men had come from, and began to walk.

He walked and walked, every step caused there to be an ever growing feeling of dread within his heart. He didn't know why, but some unknown sense, some instinct within him, told him that something was very very wrong.

When he lifted his head a short time later, his heart jolted and he froze in mid-step.

He saw something before him, further along the road. Though he couldn't see it clearly from where he stood, a feeling of terror struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Arlen broke into a run, heading towards this thing he could not make clear of what it was. As he drew closer, he slowed to a stop, standing over the figure on the ground.

His whole world crashed around him. Tears ran from his eyes and he became so weak and sick, he could no longer hold himself to stand. Knees feeling as if they had suddenly turned to water, he collapsed, a darkness descending over his eyes. He struggled to remain consciousness, struggled not to black out.

He screwed his eyes tight shut, opening them again and daring to look at the dead body of Ramana. The dead body, of the woman he loved.

His body began to shake as he leant forward to embrace her, wracked with sobs he lifted her and held her in his arms, crying and rocking back and forth in despair. Her body was utterly lifeless, her head lolled, and her arms dropped to her side. Arlen drew back, staring into her face. She was beautiful, so so beautiful, and young. Far too young to die.

The blood still ran fresh from the wound in her chest, a wound that looked like it had reached her heart.

A thought touched his mind then, a thought that frightened him even more than what he saw before him.

Arlen glanced about him feverishly, desperately crying out to the silent forest around.



He rested Ramana's body back on the earth, rising to his feet and turning on the spot, eyes darting all around him.


He hesitated, thinking of the men that had ridden past him, and thinking it was they who must have done this. He spared one last horrified glance back at Ramana, her body

so still, before turning and fleeing back towards the town.

Arlen burst through the door to his brother's manor.

'FARRELL!' he cried to the empty hall. 'FARRELL!'

Seconds later the grim figure of his brother appeared on the balcony above him, roused by the call and hastened by the panic in Arlen's voice.

'What is it Arlen?' he demanded.

'Ramana is dead!' Arlen blurted.

Farrell went still, as the words slowly sunk in.

'Amaia is missing' Arlen went on. 'She's been taken!'

Arlen watched his brother stumble, grabbing onto the railings to support himself. Farrell held his head as if his mind hurt, as if he were struggling to think clearly.

'We have to go now!' Arlen urged. 'We have to look for her. I saw soldiers riding off at high speed; they must have something to do with this!'

Arlen watched as Farrell forced himself to straighten, moving towards the stairs and heading down, marching with a single purpose, across the hall and through the open door.

Outside he broke into a run, swiftly followed by Arlen. They headed to the field before the manor where Farrell's remaining horse Alastor grazed. Farrell leapt upon the beast with no saddle or bridle, Arlen unprompted quickly followed suit, sitting behind Farrell and holding onto him. The horse jerked its head back startled as heels were dug into its flank. Alastor leapt over the fence and cantered back through the town where Arlen had come, and towards the bell in the centre where the soldiers assembled, the bell when rung would rouse the soldiers.

Within minutes soldiers appeared; confused and uncertain, among them were two figures that stood out from the rest. The brothers Eidan and Markus.

'What has happened?' the eldest Eidan demanded, coming to stand beside Farrell's horse.

'It's Ramana' Arlen choked, but he could say no more.

'Lead the way' Markus hastened with urgency in his voice. 'And hurry!'

Guided by Arlen's direction, Farrell led the men out of the town, and to the section of woodland where Ramana's body rested.

He pulled his horse back when he found her, jerking on the mane, he stared in utter disbelieve at the dead body of his wife, lying on the leaf-strewn earth. Already the forest was trying to bury her; the autumn leaves from the trees falling from above had covered parts of her body.

Cries of defiance and grief were heard from behind as Eidan and Markus leapt from their horses, rushing over to her and throwing themselves on the ground around her.

'I saw men riding ahead' Arlen told Farrell in a distant voice, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene of the brother's grief. 'They travelled quickly…'

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