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   Chapter 87 No.87

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5234

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

Farrell's heart skipped a beat as he listened, new emotions washing over him as he considered this stranger. 'Who was the child?'

'Dunno' Blunkit shrugged. 'Some poor victim. Probably the child of one of our previous targets we had to kill. Gods he was young, and so very frightened.'

'And did you do it?'

'Had to. Had no choice.' Blunkit shrugged again carelessly as if it were of no consequence. 'For years we worked as assassins' he went on. 'Until we got too old. Now me and my brother are mercenaries.' Blunkit glanced towards Farrell. 'We never did find out how the story our father told us ended.'

'If you had such a good life back at home then why did you leave?

'It wasn't fitting our needs' Blunkit shrugged. 'Buying pretty clothes and being waited on is nice, but seeing a man tremble in fear and wet himself at the sight of you, knowing the end is coming…well…nothing beats that feeling. It's almost…godlike…to have that kind of power.' He breathed deeply, as if the memories brought him pleasure.

'I'm surprised you want to tell me all of this' Farrell noted.

'Well' Blunkit waved at him. 'I've lived far longer than many assassins have, my brother too. I suppose someone may as well hear my story before I die. What about you then?' Blunkit asked turning to him. 'What's your story?'

'Hm' Farrell frowned. 'I'm afraid…it's not a very nice story.'

'We all have a dark mark in our past. Just remember not to let it shadow your future.'

Farrell glanced up at Blunkit, surprised by such words.

'Hey' Blunkit snickered gleefully. 'The prince should be waking soon. Oh how I wish I was there to see the look on his face when he finds out what happened to his men.'

Farrell raised an eyebrow, but he didn't ask what Blunkit had done to them.

He thought of the prince then, and remembered the strange look he had given him when they had met. It was unsettling the way he had looked at each of their faces in turn, remembering them, but when he looked at Farrell, a flicker of recognition crossed his expression. Farrell wondered who he was, and if he had met him before.

Never mind he thought as he lay down to rest. It will come to me in time.

The prince woke at some point. It was forever dark inside the cave, and was impossible to tell what time of day or night it was. Nevertheless, Tristan felt he has overslept. But it was not the passage of time that had woken him, but a damp feeling that had touched his skin.

Tristan sat up, feeling an uneasy sensation in his heart. He wanted to call out to the others, but some instinct inside him stopped him from do

ing so. He reached into his bags, feeling around in the dark for what he needed. He lit a fire. It took him several attempts to light the torch, and when he did, the sight that greeted him was an unwelcome one.

Every single one of his men were dead, their throats slit while they slept, their blood seeping into the pools within the caves. They would never know what happened to them. Would never know who killed them. This Tristan thought, could only be the work of an assassin. To kill men while they sleep is not the soldier's way.

Alone now, save for his horse, he shouldered his bag and retreated, heading through the cave, and back the way he had come. He left the other horses where they were. They would find their way; they were free from their masters now.

When Tristan found at last the path of light that led back into the open world, he was met by a small band of his soldiers that he had previously ordered to follow after him.

'Do we continue to pursue them?' one of his soldiers asked him.

'No' Tristan shook his head. 'We return home.'

'We do not pursue the target?'

'No' Tristan replied again, staring back into the cave. 'I do not think she is the one I'm looking for.'

'Where are the other men?' the soldier asked.

Tristan lowered his eyes.

'We return home' Tristan repeated, turning back to the soldier who spoke. 'Gather the men. I don't want to spend another night sleeping either under stars or upon rocks.'

'Yes your highness.'

Free now from the uneven cave floor, Tristan mounted his horse. He followed his men as they headed back where they had come from, walking at the back of the group. But something was on his mind that troubled him, a thought he could not shake.

That man he thought. I know him from somewhere. But where? Who is he?

Chapter Twenty Nine


It took many days of slow travel to reach the other side of the cave, and the journey was long and arduous. In the time it took them to get there, their supplies had dwindled. Barrel was becoming insufferable and annoyed everyone, especially Woodworm. All of them were getting tired of the dark, and Annabel was becoming weary with summoning fire all the time. It was of little effort to perform this spell, but to keep it up for many hours was exhausting her.

When Blunkit told the others their food had run out altogether, Barrel had begun to laugh uncontrollably causing Woodworm to lose his temper and wrestled him to the ground. Woodworm then proceeded to attempted to force several different objects in his mouth to shut him up, one of which was a frying pan.

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