MoboReader> Fantasy > The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire

   Chapter 165 No.165

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5369

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03


Farrell fell to his knees before his brother, grabbing Arlen's hands as he did.

'I'm sorry brother' he cried. 'Please will you forgive me….for all the wrong I've done? I'm sorry I neglected my family…..I'm sorry that I let Ramana die…..I'm sorry Amaia was taken, and that I didn't look for her….' he bowed his head, burying his face in his arms. Arlen gazed down upon him as he stood over him, his expression unmoved. 'Please' Farrell whispered to him. 'Please forgive me…..' he lifted his head. 'I have something for you' he told Arlen quietly. 'You might not remember….but….here' he said pulling a folded garment from beneath his coat. 'This is yours. Do you remember it?'

Arlen looked down at the cloak Farrell offered him.

It was a beautiful garment, crimson in shade with vividly detailed patterns and swirls. It must have been very expensive to buy, and looked as if it had taken weeks to make by skilled hands.

'This is the cloak you bought me…back when Brice was alive' Arlen frowned in recognition. 'You've carried it….all this time?'

'I….was going to bury it with you…..but….' he rose to his feet. 'I don't think that's necessary anymore.'

Arlen spun the cloak around, draping it across his shoulders.

'You look like a jester' Farrell smiled weakly.

Arlen gave him a strange expression, one that Farrell couldn't read.

Farrell turned away. 'I should get the healers' he said. 'They would want to know you're ok.'

'This is impossible' the old healer said incredulous as she held Arlen's face in her hands, looking from one eye to the other, pulling his lower eyelid down to see the colour. 'And you feel alright?'

'Absolutely fine' Arlen replied calmly.

'Open your mouth' the healer said, and Arlen did so. 'Everything seems fine' she spoke slowly, unconvinced at her own words.

She then took his wrist, feeling for a pulse, waiting for a few seconds, then touched his neck, feeling for another pulse. 'Everything seems fine' she said again.

The old healer straightened up, reaching to the table behind her. She poured a glass of water, then offered it to him. 'A test?' she said.

Arlen glanced at the water uncertainly, remembering what had happened last time. But he made himself forget that, and took it from her, bringing it to his lips.

Arlen drank; first half, then all of it. He handed the glass back to the healer silently, who took it from him, still staring at him in disbelief.

They waited. Nothing happened.

'This is incredible' she said to him. 'This has never happened before. Never. You should have died' she said, 'you should not have survived this.'

'I'm actually really hungry' Arlen told her. 'I wou

ld be grateful if someone could bring me something to eat.'

'Of course' the healer said, fumbling over her words. 'But for the time being I think you should stay here, just so we can keep an eye on you. Just in case.'

'Fine' Arlen answered flatly, 'just as long as I get something to eat.'

Farrell who had watched the healer and Arlen the entire time, turned suddenly, almost sensing a presence behind him. In the open doorway behind them, looming in the corridor, he saw the most curious thing. A figure stood there, wearing a mask of a crow, but with large glass eyes like windows, behind them was nothing but shadow. The figure wore black all over, the cloak was black, the hood, even the gloves also.

The figure, noticing Farrell watching, glided away silently out of sight.

Farrell turned back to Arlen.

'I have to go' he said to him. 'There is something I have to do.'

Farrell wandered away, feeling happy, feeling as if there were new life within him, feeling purpose, and something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope.

His self from his moments of despair not long ago, felt like nothing but a distant memory, almost dream-like, as if it hadn't really happened. He ambled down the corridors of the large temple, smiling and nodding to the holy figures that glided past, experiencing his new self.

I never thought I would ever believe in the gods Farrell thought to himself, but after this I am truly a changed man, and I believe I have changed for the better.

He came to a large shrine in one of the many halls, a shrine in which a natural rock grew out from the earth, out of which was carved a depiction of the god Ezla, a man growing out of stone, with a bare chest and sharp claws. The statue was huge, reaching almost to the high ceiling above. It looked as if the temple had been constructed around this shrine, with the statue being at the very centre.

Farrell approached the statue. There were many candles burning brightly around it. Each candle represented a loved one that had passed, the fire a prayer for the dead.

Farrell smiled warmly up at the statue, feeling a glow within his heart. He bowed his head, and began to pray.

Please, my god Ezla. Bring my daughter back to me; she is my heart's desire. Let her be found safe and alive and happy. This is all I ask of you.

He opened his eyes when he heard movement by his side. Glancing around, he saw a woman nearby. He watched as she took a candle from a box, one of the many dotted about the shrine, and lit it from a flame of a nearby candle already burning. She placed it amongst the others, bowing her head and placing her hands together. She began to whisper.

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