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   Chapter 78 No.78

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5397

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:02

Farrell turned away from him in annoyance.

'We shouldn't lose hope' Shawn told him, standing on his other side. 'If Amaia is still alive, then she's out there somewhere waiting for us to find her. We mustn't give up.'

The other mercenaries sat nearby, even Arlen was there. A tender expression had crossed his face. Perhaps he felt some sympathy for his brother. Perhaps he felt like Farrell really did care after all.

Farrell glanced up at Arlen who stood behind him with his arms folded. Farrell dared to speak.

'Perhaps I can mend the sins of the past.'

A dark cloud instantly descended upon Arlen. His muscles tensed, and his upper lip twitched in a sneer.

He glowered, and opened his mouth as if about to say something. But he quickly changed his mind, making a noise of disgust and storming off quickly.

The new and unfamiliar Arlen was back.

'So' Carrot the ginger haired mercenary said loudly, 'what do we do now?'

'I think he means where do we go from here?' Woodworm the other mercenary interrupted. 'What do you want us to do? You did hire us after all, and if we can no longer be of any use, then there's no point of us being here.'

'He's right' Flute Stick sighed, his accent was of foreign origin, like Carrot's. 'If we've well and truly hit a dead end, then we may as well move on and look for our next adventure.'

Blunkit and Flunkit watched Farrell expectedly, waiting for a response.

Farrell didn't answer. Instead he ignored all their stares, even Shawn's. He was deep in thought. Seeing Annabel gave him a flicker of hope to their seemingly hopeless quest, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he had found her. She did look a bit like what Amaia might have looked like; she even looked about the same age.

Amaia would be nineteen by now.

'Well if you're not going to give us any orders' Woodworm declared, 'then we will release ourselves from your service.'

The small group of six mercenaries began to disperse.

'Wait!' Farrell called after them in a sudden panic. 'Don't go. We might still need you.'

'We're not going to wait around for the seasons to pass' Flute Stick smirked back at him, not even pausing in his strides. 'We've travelled all this way for nothing. This is boring. This isn't what we wanted.'

Farrell buried his face in his hands, fighting against yet another wave of despair that threatened to drown him. He forced himself to think clearly, forced himself not to give up again.

When he lifted his head at last, he found the mercenaries gone and that Shawn had left him.

He was alone.

Farrell returned to the inn, intending to go to his room and pack up what meagre possessions he had bro

ught with him. A few basic clothes, some food, a few weapons, some pots and hunting equipment. Now everything he owned could fit into a few small bags. After his horse Alastor had been stolen, he had bought a few things he might need in his time in Dilston, using the money Arlen had given him. Now, the money was all but spent.

When he entered the inn he found to his surprise the six mercenaries sitting around one of the tables eating.

'I thought you'd have gone by now' he said to them.

'Don't be silly' Blunkit scoffed. 'We've got a long road to travel. We're not doing it on empty stomachs. Don't worry. We'll be out of your hair in no time.'

Farrell turned his back on them, heading back outside. He thought to himself then. We don't know where we're going. I guess there's no rush to leave. He lifted his gaze. The air around was beginning to cool as the day grew late, and slowly people were returning to their homes, the fields becoming empty.

Farrell saw a strange sight before him then, a man wearing dishevelled travelling clothes, sitting upon a white horse. The only people in this kingdom to have a white horse, were…

Royalty? Farrell thought incredulous. What on earth is he doing here?

The man appeared to be surveying the village before him, standing upon the lip of a small hill. He noticed suddenly Farrell staring at him. The stranger turned his horse around, tapping his heels into the beast's flanks, sending it trotting away with a flick of its tail.

Farrell frowned after him, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach. Something didn't feel quite right, upon seeing a royal white horse in a distant and seemingly unimportant village made him suddenly uneasy.

He retreated back into the inn, returning to his room where he sat upon his bed and brooded.

An hour or so passed, and when Farrell finally decided to get up, he noticed movement out of the window.

There were horses riding away. The mercenary's were leaving.

He ran outside to join Shawn and Arlen as they watched them depart. Regret filled his heart as he watched the band of six slowly ride away.

Beside him Arlen heaved a heavy sigh.

Arlen straightened then, uncrossing his arms. Shawn became suddenly tense.

Farrell too heard several voices nearby. They were speaking in confrontation.

The mercenaries also were pulling their horses back; all of them staring off to the right, where something was going on.

'What's that?' Shawn asked. 'Hey wait!' he said to Arlen as he rushed forwards towards the noise.

Shawn and Farrell followed instinctively. They ran to a section behind a wall, a scene lay out before them that was previously blocked from view.

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