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   Chapter 70 No.70

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5458

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

Farrell turned one of the men over, seeing the terror in him, knowing it was the end. He tried to beg for his life, but Farrell quickly slit his throat, straightening up again and turning back to Arlen.

'Take their armour' Arlen said already beginning to undress one of the dead men as Shawn tried to calm and restrain some of the horses as they pranced and wandered about in confusion.

The other horses were quickly caught by the mercenaries who descended from the trees, undressing the dead men and putting on their armour.

Farrell placed the helmet over his head, mounting one of the horses and wheeling the animal around. It felt good to be riding a war horse again he thought.

Nearby Arlen surveyed the scene briefly before calling out the order to ride forth, leaving the dead men where they had fallen, they left the forest, riding out into the open and towards the manor.

When they reached the gates, Arlen dismounted his horse quickly, talking in a murmur to the young soldier who guarded the gates. The instant the gates were opened by the young soldier, Arlen drove a knife deep into his throat.

The others dismounted their horses, throwing off their helmets so they may be recognised by the other mercenaries that attacked the manor from the back, sweeping through the garden and into the building.

The slaughter was quick. Any soldier that was not their own had been killed, now only the terrified servants remained. Poor unfortunate souls. They cowered in fear and cried, holding each other for comfort and reassurance, gazing up in horror at the brawny mercenaries that surrounded them with their huge axes and swords.

Arlen strode through the many rooms, never pausing in his furious strides, still holding his bloodied sword in his hand. He reached a room where there were no other doors beside the one he had entered through. A dead end. He turned and marched back out to the corridor, shouting in frustration, nerves still on edge from the fight and pumped full of adrenaline.


Farrell watched his brother's pacing, standing beside Shawn and some of the mercenaries that guarded the servants. The other mercenaries were searching the rooms, thinking perhaps that the young woman they sought was hiding. She had good reason to fear them after all.

'I'm going to look too' Shawn said leaving his side.

Farrell could hear the stress in his voice as he spoke.

Farrell walked away shortly after, heading out of the building, thinking to himself.

Is she really here? Was she ever here? Perhaps Arlen was wrong after all, if she were here they would have found her by now.

He wandered out of the rooms, down a set of stairs and stepped out into the garden.

Farrell lifted his face to the sky, tilting his head back and feeling the sun's rays warming his cheeks.

He stepped forwards.

The garden was vast, far larger than any he had seen before, with many growing things and many hidden places.

Farrell walked for what seemed like ages, turning this corner and that. There were many beautiful statues here, and the garden had been well looked after. But he didn't notice the pretty pink flowers that grew from the trees, nor the pond built within stone where a miniature river constantly ran water into it. But he did notice one thing that seemed strangely out of place.

A sort of plaque set in the ground a short distance away. Farrell altered his course, walking towards it, coming to a stop before it and reading.

His mind slowed.

He re-read the writing on the plaque again, and his heart stopped.

He turned and ran, back towards and building he had come from, tearing up the stairs to where the others were.

'ARLEN!' he cried. 'Where is Arlen?'

'I'm here' Arlen replied running into the room from the next. He slowed to a stop, eyes wide at the look of shock on Farrell's face. 'What is it?' he asked nervously.

'The garden' Farrell gasped, out of breath.

Arlen waited for no more explanation. He rushed past his brother, followed closely by Shawn and some of the other mercenaries.

He ran through the garden, searching feverishly for whatever it was that Farrell had found.

'Damit what is it?' Arlen cried in frustration.

'Here!' Shawn called, kneeling by something.

Arlen jogged over to him.

His heart instantly plummeted to his feet, body utterly frozen.

He read the plaque again.

Here lies Amaia

Died aged nineteen

A black haired beauty

You will always be remembered

'Nineteen' Shawn spoke. 'That's how old she would have been. Black haired…… it must be her.'

Arlen turned on his heel.

He walked away.

Arlen stood at the balcony of one of the highest towers, staring out into nothingness.

Inside he felt numb. Felt dead.

Arlen remembered the words he had spoken to his brother. Not that long ago.

Ludus can go fuck herself! I am not the brother you once knew. I don't pray anymore.

'I've brought this on myself' he spoke weakly as he climbed onto the balcony's wall.

It was windy at the top of the tower, and Arlen balanced precariously as he made his careful way forwards along the long wall off rock that jutted out of the tower, like a great spike. At its end, there was nothing but a long drop.

Arlen reached the end of the path, balanced he held his position; half crouched against the uneasy breeze that threatened to topple him off the wall.

Arlen tilted his head down.

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