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The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 4747

Updated: 2018-07-11 12:03

'When will you be back?' Farrell shouted at him from the harbour.

'Who knows? A week. A month…?'

'What if I don't see you again?'

'I don't care!' Arlen hollered, turning to face him at last. 'I hate you. Don't you understand this by now? I hate you! I don't care if I never see you again. I don't care if you die!'

'Do you really mean that Arlen?' Farrell sighed weakly, walking along the harbour to keep Arlen in sight as the gangplank was pulled back onto the ship.

'You mean nothing to me!' Arlen called to him. 'I will never forgive what you have done.'

He strode away, swiftly disappearing from view on the ship.

Farrell watched miserably as the ship slowly sailed away. Taking with it Annabel, for her own protection now that she had revealed her existence to the king's soldiers, and Shawn of course who insisted on staying by her side. Cam also had boarded the ship with his wife Tala, who insisted on them both returning to the soil where they had been born, their true home. To them it always would be, no matter what had happened. With them, went as many others as they could fit on the ship.

Farrell watched as the ship headed out to sea to begin its journey back again to the other land across the water.

'So are we ready to go?' an impatient voice interrupted Farrell's thoughts loudly.

Farrell saw nearby, Woodworm who had spoken. Beside him, were Barrel, Adam and the newly named Flynn, once known as Flute Stick. And behind them, were the rest of the men that waited. Those that had survived the attack and could not all fit on the ship, they were only a handful in number.

'I take it we're heading back to the mountains' Adam was saying behind Farrell, 'where the others wait.'

'What?' Farrell hesitated. 'Oh….yes…I suppose.'

'Let's get going then' Woodworm said. 'Before they find us.'

That evening when they had travelling a distance away from the harbour, they came to rest in a section of forest, daring even to light a fire. The trees were thick around them, and it was unlikely that they would be seen from afar. Even so, lookouts were positioned at certain points all around them, there was even one man sitting high up in a tree so that he may see further away.

Farrell sat alone before a small fire, staring off into the flames, thinking about the conversation he had had with Adam not long before.

'We're running out of money' Adam had said. 'Soon we will have nothing left.'

Farrell had gritted his teeth and bit his lip in worry at that.

'Where is the prince' he had said. 'Has he left us? Has he betrayed us?'

Now he sat before the fire, preoccupied with thoughts, wracked with worry and fear.

He was interrupted by a man that came to him, one of the prisoners that were saved from across the sea.

'Excuse me' the man mumbled.

Farrell's eyes lifted, and he stared back at the man in momentary confusion.

'Oh' Farrell said. 'What is it?'

'I was wondering what we were doing here?'

'Haven't you already been told?' Farrell asked him straightening up. 'Your freedom in exchange for your help in finding a Weather Maker named Amaia.'

'Oh yes' the man smiled bobbing his head. 'I remember now.' He nodded again. 'A Weather Maker you say? I've never heard of…nor seen one until very recently. That thing that young lady did earlier….god….that was….'

'What do you want?' Farrell interrupted.

'I was just wondering' the man continued hastily, 'why are we trying to find this Amaia Weather Maker?'

'Because she is in danger' Farrell replied as if it was obvious.

'But many people are in danger every day. Why do you care so much about this one?'

'She's my daughter.'

'Oh' the man said, seemingly genuinely surprised. He took a seat on the dry earth opposite Farrell, the fire burning between them. 'Well she must be very dear to you indeed. What does she look like?'


'What does she look like?' the man repeated.

'I…..I don't know.'

'You don't know?' the man chuckled to himself. 'What…were you wearing a blindfold all her life?'

Farrell let out a very heavy groan, slumping and resting his chin on his palm.

'How come you don't know what your own daughter looks like?' the man persisted.

'Because' Farrell droned, 'she was only seven years old when she was taken.'

'By the king?'



'Because she is a Weather Maker.'

'Yeah but why?'

'I don't know.'

'And how long ago was she taken.'

'Twelve years.'

'And you've been looking for her all this time?'

'No, only recently' Farrell grumbled.

'God above us what took you so long?' the old man asked loudly slapping his knee. 'Did you forget about her all that time? What does her mother think of all of this?'

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