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   Chapter 49 No.49

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5466

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:02


Arlen was able to slide off the horse, just before Farrell sent Alastor racing onwards, followed by the other mounted soldiers in search of the culprit.

Arlen watched as the brothers grieved over the body of their beloved sister, whom for them had been the treasure of their lives. It was heartbreaking to watch.

They wept, holding her and pawing at her body, throwing their heads back and wailing in pain and despair that their loss.

Arlen felt a clench in his heart. A black fog fell around him and he covered his face, moving away from the brothers, unable to take anymore.

He stumbled then, glancing down to see what had tripped him. Arlen knelt, brushed back the leaves that covered the forest floor, and had continued to fall all around.

In the road, running all the way across, was great crack, inches thick. Arlen narrowed his eyes, blinking several times to clear the tears. He stared down at the fracture in the road.

'What is this?' he whispered.

Further down the road, Farrell and his men had ridden. They had passed a single dead man, who appeared to have no injury on him at all. It was a mystery how he died. But further along the road, was a mystery far deeper.

Farrell pulled his horse back, surveying the scene around him.

'What in god's name….'

The bodies of twelve soldiers lay scattered in their path, soldiers who were armed and armoured. They all bore the crest of the king, a wolf swallowing a half-moon.

It looked as if they had been ambushed.

Farrell ordered the soldiers that followed him, to check the men to see if any were alive.

But they were all dead. And Amaia could not be found.

Chapter Sixteen

Parting Words

Ramana was buried where she had fallen. A great mound of earth was used to cover her, and as if the forest was morning her loss also, the trees once again with their falling leaves, created a blanket over her grave.

The people of the town gathered to this once unremarkable spot in the woods and mourned, as the realisation of the terrible thing that had happened slowly dawned on each of them. And they began to wonder, how such a terrible thing could happen, and who would want to hurt Ramana.

But none could know. The only people who could be found responsible were dead. And there were no leads as to who was responsible. The tracks that led away from the dead men had vanished in a river some miles away.

Now, the people gathered around the mound, and listened, as the holy man spoke a prayer over Ramana's resting body.

'She would have wanted to be buried here' a voice whispered.

Farrell glanced towards the speaker; it was Alice, his brother's widow. This was the second funeral she and her children had experienced.

Too young for them Farrell thought for Shawn and Gracie. Too young…

Before Alice and Shawn, Gracie stood, staring blankly at the mound around which the townsfolk had gathered. In her arms she held her precious bird Yayew, once shared with Amaia, now it was only hers.

The brothers Eidan and Markus stood at the front of the crowd, dressed in their old mourning colours of black once more. They stood like dark columns, side by side watching over their sister's grave. It was a tragic day for Eidan and Markus especially. After losing so many of their brothers in the past, then losing their father and now their sister, they were all alone now….they had no one anymore, only each other.

At least, Farrell thought bitterly, Bairn was not here to witness this terrible day.

A cry from Gracie caught the attention of many of the people around her. Her pet bird was flapping wildly in her arms and squawking, trying to free itself from her hold. It jumped to the ground, spreading its wings, and then took flight, much to everyone's surprise. Gracie called to the bird, but the bird rising higher in the sky, did not return.

Farrell glanced up from the mound as the holy man continued to speak, catching the glare of his brother.

Unlike the others, Arlen did not have his sights towards the mound, but instead, they were fixed on him.

Farrell left once it was all over, returning to his lonely home. Not knowing truly what had happened on this day, nor why. Why his beloved wife and child had been taken from him so callously.

He was gripped by a sudden sense of unreality, suddenly seeing the world in a different light. Since Brice's death, things had changed. Now, the world was grey.

It was dark now. Farrell stumbled through the kitchen and into the dining room. He grabbed onto the dressing table for support, head hung as he experienced such deep and unpleasant emotions, he couldn't put a label to them. He thought for a moment, that the pain and misery he was feeling must surely be worse than death itself.

It was dark now, and the house was quiet, the servants were asleep at home or elsewhere. Farrell thought he was alone, but he not.

He heard movement close by, and glanced up to see a shadowy figure. He had been so caught up in his thoughts; he had not heard anyone approaching.

As the figure stepped forward he saw that it was Arlen, an expression of raw fury on his face.

'You.'

He grabbed Farrell by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall, Farrell felt the cold sharp touch of steel at his throat, and he instinctively drew back away from the blade his brother held to him.

'YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER!' Arlen screamed. 'SHE IS DEAD NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!'

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