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   Chapter 88 No.88

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5348

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

The next time the group lay down to rest, Flute Stick had woken up screaming and thrashing in terror. Carrot rushed over to him, it took several seconds to calm him, but eventually Flute Stick relaxed.

Flute Stick didn't sleep much after that, none of them did. When they did at last see the first glimmer of natural light, it was a wonderful feeling for all of them, even the horses seemed relieved. Barrel ran ahead of the others to stand in the fresh air, he lifted his head high, the wind ruffled his hair, the sun shone off the scar that covered half his face. All of the others increased their steps as they neared the mouth of the cave.

'Oh it feels good to breathe the fresh air again' Shawn sighed when he had stepped out into the sun.

Seeing their arrival a figure stepped out from the bushes to join them, smiling widely. It was Flunkit, and he was carrying bags full of food.

The group stopped to rest near the entrance of the cave. The first thing that Arlen did when they sat down; was to apply the dark paint around his eyes again.

For some reason this deeply saddened Farrell, and as he watched his brother change before him, he couldn't help but feel that Arlen did these things to hide. From others and from himself, like a mask to face the outside world. Even the beard Arlen had grown looked odd to Farrell, and he didn't think it suited Arlen, not at all.

It was evening, and the sky would be growing dark soon. Shawn went off to find firewood, while the others continued to gorge themselves on food.

Arlen sat away from the others as usual, resting on the other side of the shallow river they had come to.

'So' Barrel sang merrily around a mouthful of food. 'What happens when we find Amaia?' he asked the two brothers loudly. 'Who will take her home?'

'I will take her and keep her safe' Arlen spoke up automatically.

'The fuck you are.'

Arlen very slowly turned his head towards Farrell, expression level.

'She will be safer with me' Arlen said.

'I raised her. I'm her father. She's staying with me.'

Arlen rose to his feet, his hand on his weapon.

'You have already proven once you are not fit to care for her. I won't allow that mistake to happen again.'

'Won't allow?' Farrell scoffed. 'You have no say in anything concerning her.'

Arlen hunched his body suddenly, a raging inferno rapidly burning within him.

'No say?!' he repeated trembling with fury. 'I have more say than you deserve!'

Farrell took a step back. The expression that Arlen wore now could be described as no less than demonic. The hatred within him was like nothing Farrell had ever seen before.

'You are not my brother

' Farrell shook his head. 'My brother would never act this way, speak this way or chose to paint himself this way…my brother died a long time ago. You are nothing but his shell. You are someone else. I do not know you.'

Arlen smiled then. A crooked and evil smile. His muscular hard like rock, his broken nose and the scars that lined his flesh all showed of the past battles he had fought, the hard life he had endured.

'Kill me then' Arlen snarled, 'and I will try to do the same to you.'

Farrell slumped his shoulders, slowly drawing his sword, resigned to his task.

'Very well' he spoke with regret. 'Now, one of us will die.'

Arlen drew sword swiftly from his sheath, causing it to sing.

The brothers slowly approached each other, weapons at the ready. Farrell wading into the knee-high river, Arlen descending the slop of the hill on the other side and heading towards the water, fixated on Farrell as he moved forwards.

'Isn't anyone going to stop them?' Annabel urged the others, voice trembling.

'Why?' Flute Stick asked flatly. He had stopped what he was doing to watch the two figures about to fight; the other mercenaries had done the same.

'They will kill each other' Annabel cried.

'So?' Carrot replied.

Barrel rested his chin on his hand, sniggering to himself gleefully.

Farrell and Arlen struck their first blow, swords clashing in the air.

Annabel turned on her heel and ran into the woods. None of the mercenaries paid her any attention as she fled.

'Shawn!' she called desperately, running in the direction he had gone.

Stumbling over hidden roots and fallen trees, she cut her knees and tore her dress, but still forced herself onwards until she was out of breath. She did not stop running, and did not stop calling, until she found him.

'What is it?' Shawn asked her urgently, seeing the distress and fear in her.

'They're fighting' Annabel gasped, unable to say anymore, doubled over with her hands on her knees. 'They're fighting.'

Shawn dropped the firewood he had collected, grabbing her by the wrist and running back to camp, Annabel was dragged after him, struggled to keep up.

Arlen had been disarmed. He rounded on Farrell, eyes bloodshot red with pure rage. He grabbed the blade with his bare hands before Farrell had a chance to swing. Farrell instantly drew the sword back, blood from Arlen's fingers showered down into the river below, staining the water. But Arlen didn't even seem to notice. He stepped towards Farrell dangerously, unarmed, without armour. He was fearless. But this time Farrell did not hesitate. He made a start towards Arlen with the intention to strike him.

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