WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 33: The Broken Village

The group rode north across the land in the company of the prince. Led by Tristan and his soldiers, Farrell, Arlen and the others continued silently on their way, rarely speaking to one another, and wondering in their heads where they were being taken.

The journey took several days, and was uneventful. When they arrived at their destination, they were shocked by what they saw. The village they had come to had been completely destroyed.

‘What on earth happened here?’ Annabel gasped in astonishment at the sight of it all.

The place was utterly deserted. The houses had been burned to the ground, their thatched roofs had quickly caught fire, leaving little behind other than blackened charred remained of a life that once was. Amongst the wreckage that was still smoking, could be seen evidence of life that had continued normally, until suddenly everything changed. Within one of the houses they passed, could be seen a table that had somehow managed to survive. Upon it were several plates, with meals half-finished. And amongst and within the houses all around, bodies lay; even some of the animals had been killed.

‘It’s a terrible thing that’s happened here’ Tristan said dismounting his horse. ‘These people’ he looked around him, ‘they did not deserve this.’

‘How did you know this was here?’ Carrot asked the prince suspiciously. ‘Did you kill these people?’

‘I did not’ Tristan replied. ‘Look at the houses. They still smoulder. No, this attack happened recently. I’ve been travelling with you long enough now.’

‘Did your men kill these people?’ Carrot clarified.

‘No’ Tristan answered shortly.

‘But you still knew about it’ Flute Stick said, glaring at him. ’How is that?’

Tristan took a deep breath as if about to speak, but then merely sighed, staring at the ground in thought.

‘You withhold information again’ Annabel told him in displeasure. ‘I knew we couldn’t trust you.’

‘It’s’ not that’ Tristan replied. ‘It’s just….I don’t know how best to explain.’

‘Shhh’ Barrel suddenly hissed. ‘Do you hear that? What’s that sound?’

The others fell silent to listen. They heard the strange noise again.

‘Is that……a baby?’ Arlen whispered incredulous.

The others all turned in the direction of the noise. Tristan looked on silently.

‘What in the name of the gods…?’ Arlen walked forwards towards one of the houses. The others followed him, the prince’s armoured soldiers trailed afterwards.

Inside, the house was a smouldering wreck. The air was still thick with smoke. The stairs had collapsed and most of what lay inside was left beyond recognition.

Annabel followed closely after Arlen, stepping over the blackened remains of the beams that had once held up the ceiling.

‘Careful’ Shawn hissed after her. ‘It’s dangerous.’

She paused to look back at him; before continuing onwards, covering her mouth and coughing as she went. The crying baby she found had been hidden in a cupboard on the ground floor, tucked away in a corner.

Annabel reached forwards into the cupboard, taking the child in her arms. She rose with her back to the others, turning to face them.

It was a little girl she held.

There was movement suddenly to one side. A groan, a hand reaching up, a piece of wood was knocked over.

Tristan came up behind the others, spotting an old man who had suddenly made himself known.

‘Strangers’ he moaned in agony, propping himself up on his elbow. ‘You…you are not the bad ones…?’

‘Bad ones?’ Annabel repeated, holding the still crying child tenderly in her arms.

‘What happened here old man?’ Woodworm asked, kneeling beside him.

‘We tried to protect her’ the figure said, clutching a wound at his side and grimacing as he spoke. ‘We tried to protect her, but he didn’t like it….instead…he killed us all…and took her anyway.’

‘Who?’ Woodworm asked impatiently. ‘Who attacked this place?’

‘The king.’

‘The king?’ Woodworm echoed.

Arlen glanced sideways towards the prince. ‘I think you’ve got some explaining to do.’

‘Why should we not just kill you now you lying bastard?’ Woodworm snarled up at him.

‘My soldiers outnumber you’ Tristan answered simply. ‘If I had wanted a fight I could have killed you all easily without bothering to lead you all this way.’

‘Then explain yourself’ Farrell said to him. ‘Why would your father do such a thing?’

‘He is searching for Weather Makers’ Tristan told them.

‘Why?’

‘It’s...difficult to explain.’

‘Then I will do the explaining’ the old man interrupted. He forced himself to sit up, his body tense in agony. He pushed himself back to lean against the wall, letting out a deep sigh. He then faced Annabel who held the baby, speaking to her.

‘That girl is my granddaughter.’

‘What happened here?’ Annabel asked him. ‘Why is everyone dead? Why did the king do this?’

‘My daughter’ the old man began, ‘her mother’ he indicated the baby, ‘is a Weather Maker. The king wanted her, but she’s much loved in this little village, the people stood up to defend her…and they paid for it with their lives.’

‘Why does the king want Weather Makers?’ Farrell asked him.

‘I don’t know’ the old man shook his head. ‘He just took her, and killed anyone who got in his way…and then he killed everyone else….’ The old man gritted his teeth, before continuing. ‘He took her, and now she’s gone. I don’t know where she is, or if I will ever see her again…but I’m thinking that if the king was so desperate to get a hold of her…she must be important in some way.’ He lifted his head to the others hopefully. ‘Maybe she is still alive….maybe….’ he let out a deep sigh. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes became distant.

The old man was dead.

‘Care to fill in the gaps?’ Carrot said to Tristan.

Tristan sighed reluctantly.

‘My mother is a Weather Maker. Both my parents since the day they met have been infatuated with each other; they loved each other dearly, and would go to the ends of the earth for the other. But one day my mother….something happened to her. I don’t know what, but she fell into a coma. She just…’ he shrugged, ‘collapsed one day, and has never woken since. That was over thirty years ago. Now she sleeps in a great hall. My father believes that because she is a Weather Maker, only another Weather Maker can save her, and make her the way she was before.’

‘Why?’ Farrell asked.

Tristan shrugged.

’There is no reason for him to believe what he believes. He is a powerful man driven to madness by grief. His wife…my mother…means the world to him, and he will do anything he can to save her. But he doesn’t know how, so has decided….that the Weather Makers do know how to save her.’

‘That is why he’s been kidnapping them’ Arlen spoke slowly. ‘That is why Amaia…..’ he broke off. ‘What happens to the Weather Makers that are taken?’

‘I don’t know’ Tristan said. ‘I saved Amaia before he could take her, and kept her safe for as long as I could. I don’t know what he does with them.’

‘You know’ Woodworm said, ‘you could have just told us rather than bring us all this way.’

‘And what better evidence than what you see before you, what you see with your own eyes. If I hadn’t brought you here, you would have been less inclined to believe my words.’

‘So the woman who was taken from this village’ Shawn asked the prince, ‘was a Weather Maker?’

Tristan gave a slow nod. ‘Yes.’

‘How did you know this place would be attacked?’ Flute Stick asked him.

‘Because…’ Tristan answered, ‘the king is my father. I know much of what he does.’

‘And you didn’t do anything to stop it?’ Annabel asked.

Tristan gave her a sceptical look. ‘He is the king’ Tristan said firmly to her, sounding slightly irritated. ‘What could I have done?’

Annabel pursed her lips. She bowed her head.

‘Poor child’ she said sadly to the baby, who was quiet now. ‘What should we do with her?’

‘We should just kill it’ Woodworm said.

‘Why are you such an asshole?’ Flute Stick asked him.

‘I know why’ Annabel spoke up before Woodworm could reply. ‘It’s because you’re heartbroken.’

The strange statement, so out of place, made all of them fall silent.

‘Is it because she died?’ Annabel asked, striking out at a guess. ‘The woman you loved?’

Woodworm narrowed his eyes.

‘She didn’t die’ he replied in a flat tone. ‘She left me for another man.’

‘Amazing’ Arlen said to Annabel. ‘How could you tell?’

‘I could tell’ Annabel replied simply. ‘My brother was left heartbroken years ago when his wife died in childbirth. He was not the same after that. He died shortly after……. The grief was too much for him to bear. He took his own life.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Time has a way of numbing the pain’ Annabel answered, not looking at him.

‘You’re wasting our time’ Farrell said to the prince. ‘We should be looking for Amaia.’

‘Amaia has been missing for years’ Tristan replied, ‘for you at least. You can do little more time wasting than you’ve already done.’

‘So what do we do to get her back?’ Arlen asked Tristan, ignoring Farrell who ground his teeth in anger at the prince.

‘My father is kidnapping Weather Makers all across the kingdom. The only way to stop him, is to stand against my father….in war.’

‘Oh gods’ Shawn said, slapping himself in the face. ‘That is what Danior said in the beginning. Do you remember? He was right all along. He said our path would lead to war.’

‘So how should we proceed?’ Farrell asked.

‘Well’ Tristan began. ‘I am only the thirteenth son. I am not as good as I could be.’ He raised his head. ‘We need to recruit men, an army….it will take some time. My father is a resourceful man obviously, being the king. We need an army large enough to stand a chance against his. We have to defeat him, and replace Amaia as fast as possible.’ He glanced down at the old man deceased at his feet. ‘But first’ he said turning to Annabel who held the baby, ‘we need to replace a new mother for this child, someone who will care for her.’

Arlen balled his fists, feeling a flurry of strange and mixed emotions within him.

‘I feel in a way that we are closer now’ he said to the air. ‘I think that we might just stand a chance, even against the king.’

‘That is the plan’ Tristan nodded. ‘But…it will be a long road to walk.’

Ten months pass