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   Chapter 75 No.75

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5257

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

Danior smiled. 'If there is anything else you want to know, then ask me now.'

The room fell silent.

'Then I shall make my way' Danior said.

He walked away briskly without a backwards glance, Arlen watched him closely as he went.

'For a man who's supposed to know everything, I would have thought…' but he never finished his sentence.

'What did he mean by saying that Amaia is unique and rare, and what did he mean by abilities?' Shawn asked them.

'Fucked if I know' Farrell shrugged beside him, scratching at his splint.

They returned to the ground floor where their horses waited for them, and indeed as they had been told, over half of the mercenaries that had accompanied them had vanished. Now there were only six.

'What are our orders?' one of the nameless mercenaries spoke.

'We travel to Augsburg' Arlen told them.

Chapter Twenty Six

A Chance Encounter

The journey was to take about two days or thereabouts. On the first night, they camped deep in the woods, where their fire would draw little attention.

The band of men sat on the uneven ground around the fire, each minding their own business, eating or tending to the horses tethered nearby or warming their hands by the fire. Arlen sat the furthest away, with his back to the others, staring off into the woods where the firelight could not reach him.

More than once Farrell glanced his way, and he occasionally heard him mumbling to himself, often repeating the same thing.

'She was so close….and I just missed her. By a day maybe? Or maybe a week? What happened to her? She was so close….'

'So what's the deal with you and him then?'

Farrell looked away from his brother, turning his attention to one of the mercenaries that had spoken. The first thing he noticed about this man was a great scar that covered one side of his face, a burn. It looked to be many years old.

'I don't do back stories' Farrell answered flatly.

'Oh I see' the gruff old mercenary nodded. 'That bad eh?'

Farrell arched an eyebrow at the older man, leaning away from him as the mercenary deliberately sat uncomfortably close.

'I know you two don't get along' the mercenary went on. 'I hope there won't be any problems along our journey.'

'How do you know we don't get along?' Farrell asked him.

'I was one of the men who pulled him off you' the mercenary smirked. 'Did a good job on you he did. That arm will take ages to heal.'

Farrell glanced down at his arm, supported by a splint and resting in a sling. He felt suddenly self conscious.

'He's a good fighter that one' the mercenary said nodding towards Arlen. '

I recon it will be a good job fighting alongside one like him. You on the other hand, well I wouldn't want you to slow us down.'

'I'm a better fighter than him' Farrell answered resentfully, glaring at Arlen and feeling hurt for what he had done to him.

'Better? Ha ha!' the mercenary cackled. 'Not from what I saw. He kicked your arse he did.'

'It's true' Farrell said irritatingly. 'He never used to want to fight with me because he knew I would always beat him.'

'So you were childhood friends?'

'No we're brothers.'

'Brothers eh? So what happened?'

Farrell realised he had been tricked into answering as much as he had, and he quickly shut his mouth.

'Suit yourself' the mercenary snickered, seeing Farrell's reaction. 'I get it…you don't do back stories. Just answer me this if you will. If you're stronger than him then why did you let him beat you so good?'

'He's my brother' Farrell replied. 'I didn't want to…..'

'Oh boy you must have done something really bad to piss him off that much' the mercenary gleamed happily. 'Last I heard he wanted to kill you!'

'Are you genuinely trying to make me feel better?' Farrell snarled. 'Or are you deliberately being an arse?'

'So who's that guy?' the mercenary asked pointing at Shawn and ignoring Farrell's question.

Shawn glanced up.

'He's….' Farrell began. 'His name is Shawn' he finished.

'Hello!' the mercenary waved.

Shawn nodded back.

'So who's that then?' the mercenary asked again.

Farrell, fed up now rolled his eyes and turned away.

'I'm Farrell's nephew' Shawn explained. 'He's my uncle.'

'Oh I can just feel the love between you' the mercenary said loudly, clapping his hands on his knees and gleaming eagerly from Farrell to Shawn, his cheeks rosy red.

'Have you been drinking?' Farrell mumbled.

'Not yet. Ahaw haw haaaw!'

'So what's your name?' Shawn asked him.

'Call me Barrel. It rhymes with Farrell. Ahaw haw haw!'

'Is that really your name?' Shawn asked dubiously.

'No' Barrel sang back. 'You don't know us and so we can call ourselves whatever we like. Let's see' he said leaning back and looking over at the other five mercenaries. 'That's Carrot. That's Blunkit. That's Flunkit. That's Woodworm and that's Flute Stick.'

'Why am I Woodworm?' the one he had pointed to glowered in annoyance.

'Oh come now Woodworm' Barrel laughed. 'Don't be such a wet drip.' He leaned towards Shawn, nudging him in the side and whispering very loudly. 'Don't get on the wrong side of him. He's the serious one, and he couldn't tell a joke if it stripped naked and danced in front of him.'

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