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   Chapter 58 No.58

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5181

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

The figure slowly stood.

Farrell watched Shawn lean upon the bar, speaking to the barman in a low voice. He saw movement to his side. Farrell jerked his head back suddenly; the knife just missed him by inches. He wheeled around to the direction the knife had come from. All around the room people had frozen, some in mid conversation, some with tankards half-way to their lips.

Everything was suddenly silent.

Farrell searched, but he could not find the culprit in the many faces that stared at him. He looked at each and every man whom he thought might have thrown the dagger, but his attention sailed right past the man he was searching for. His brother.

Suddenly one of the men began to chuckle. Farrell's attention turned straight to him, but still there was no flicker of recognition.

'Who do you think you are?' the man said, 'to show your face here?'

'Who are you?' Farrell asked him as the man slowly approached him

'Come now. I know I must have changed a lot over the years but you can recognise my voice at least?'

'Arlen?' Farrell said incredulous.

Arlen sneered back at him.

'Is that really you?' Farrell asked.

Arlen was no longer the young and handsome, clean-shaven princely figure Farrell had once known. Now he was different, and in so many ways, not only his appearance, but his aura as well. He seemed bigger, more muscular, as if he had spent years fighting. There were little scars here and there over his body, on his face and arms. He was missing a finger from each hand, and his nose looked as if it had been broken at least once. He had grown a beard now, something Farrell had never seen on him before, and he had dark makeup painted around his eyes. Like a pirate or a gypsy. Or a whore.

'Look at you' Farrell gasped. 'You've changed...'

'The years have a way of changing people' Arlen replied coolly.

Farrell's shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply.


In an instant Arlen was before him, moving faster and with more precision than Farrell thought possible of him. He slashed Farrell's arm, causing him to stumble back. He had cut him deep.


Farrell managed to draw his sword in time to block the next attack. He stared at Arlen; his teeth were bared in anger as he snarled hatefully back at Farrell.

'I am not your brother' Arlen whispered dangerously.

'You've still not forgiven me then?' Farrell asked sadly, arm beginning to shake as he grasped his sword, holding Arlen back. 'Even after all this time?'

'A thousand million years could pass, ' Arlen screamed at him, 'and

I would still not forgive you!'

He pushed Farrell back, and the crowd around them began to cheer, rising from their seats and moving away to clear a space, some even standing on tables to watch. The barman however watched only with disinterest as he carried on with his work, like he had seen this a thousand times before.

'A great arena' Arlen called jovially throwing his arms out. 'As good as any I suppose.'

'I will not fight you' Farrell spoke firmly.

'That's a shame' Arlen sighed relaxing slightly. 'Because if you don't fight……you'll die.'

He lunged forward, swinging his sword. The crowd began to clap and cheer and roar in approval.

'Arlen!' Farrell called. 'Please stop this!'

Arlen ignored his brother's cries, lunging to strike him again. Farrell again blocked the next blow. Farrell parried and danced out of the way, never moving to attack, only the defend himself.

'I won't hurt you brother' Farrell shouted back at him.

'Then I hope you enjoy it in the afterlife' Arlen sneered dryly. 'Send me a postcard while you're there. Perhaps you will find Ramana, and you can beg her for forgiveness.'

Farrell gritted his teeth; it was his turn to sneer now.

'Arlen' he said, lowering his sword and taking a step towards him.

Arlen drew quickly back away from him, twirling his sword in the air.

Farrell lifted his weapon, advancing towards his brother, ready to attack.

'Don't you speak of Ramana.'

Arlen began to cackle at him. 'Have I gotten under your skin?!'

Farrell's face contorted with rage as he moved closer towards Arlen, raising his sword to strike. He halted suddenly in his tracks; a look of utter shock crossed his face. The sword he held slipped from his grasp.

'What's happening to me?!' Farrell whispered.

He turned from Arlen, stumbling and grabbing onto a table for support. He looked towards his arm where Arlen had cut him.

'Poison' he gasped. 'How…could…?'

He collapsed, now on all fours, gasping and struggling to breathe.

'I told you' Arlen sang. 'I told you didn't I? That if I ever saw you again I would kill you. You should have listened.'

'Arlen…' Farrell groaned, shaking as he struggled to push himself up again.

'Your heart will stop soon' Arlen said casually. 'Make the most of life now while you can.'

Farrell began to pale. His vision clouded over, as his whole body began to shake violently. His grip slipped from the table edge and he fell to the floor again.


Arlen jerked his head around to another figure who had thrown himself to his knees before him.

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