WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 67: Ending

‘Amaia’ Farrell said to her when the two of them were alone.

‘Yes?’

‘Why is your hair green?’

‘Oh.’ Her hand went to her hair unconsciously as she spoke. ‘I’ve changed much over the years’ she answered vaguely. ‘My powers….they’ve made me this way. I’ve…..been reincarnated.’

‘You died?’

‘It wasn’t meant to happen’ Amaia told him. ‘When I was younger, mother….Ramana…made me hide my powers. You might not have known this, but she too was a Weather Maker.’

‘Yes’ Farrell spoke slowly, turning his head away. ’I had my suspicions, after I began searching for you, after I first heard of the word Weather Maker, I would remember her back when she was alive. Things happened….’ He scratched his itchy palms. ‘You can do magic then?’

‘Yes’ Amaia said quietly. ‘My affinity….it’s frost. Ramana’s was wind.’ Her heart jolted then as she remembered White Feather. He taught me so much she thought sadly. I still can’t believe he’s gone.

‘I would love to see it’ Farrell said. ‘If you don’t mind. If it’s ok with you.’

Amaia hesitated, chewing her lip. But she knew it was safe for her now, with the king dead.

She was no longer hunted.

Amaia leant back; placing her hand into the water of the fountain behind them.

The water instantly began to cool, and then freeze. Ice formed from where she touched the water, trapping her hand there, and growing outwards. The very air around them also began to cool, and snowflakes fell from the air above.

After a few seconds, Amaia withdrew her hand from the pool, jerking back sharply to break the ice and brushing away the shards that remained stuck to her skin.

‘This power’ Farrell spoke sadly as the snowflakes that had gathered around them began to melt, ‘it’s the reason the king wanted you.’

‘Yes’ Amaia mumbled. ‘He believed that Weather Makers had the power to save his wife. She was also a Weather Maker. She fell into a coma.’ Amaia’s hand reached up to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I don’t know what was wrong with her, and I suppose none of the other Weather Makers that came before me knew either.’ Her eyes grew distant, grew sad. ‘They’re both dead now’ she mumbled, ‘the king and queen.’

‘Yes’ Farrell said under his breath. ‘I knew the king at least was dead.’

‘What happens now?’ Amaia asked him. ‘Do we go home?’

‘Home?’ Farrell tensed at the word, becoming suddenly uncertain. ‘I don’t have a home, not anymore. I’ve been on the road for so long…’ he faltered then, as a dark thought suddenly struck him. ‘Maybe’ he spoke reluctantly, ‘it’s better if you stay with Tristan. He could give you the life you deserve…I don’t even have a place to live anymore.’

‘No’ Amaia shook her head firmly. ‘I grew up with you, and here is where I wish to stay.’

Farrell moved closer towards her, embracing her. Amaia held him back, resting her cheek on his shoulder, sighing happily.

‘I love you Amaia’ Farrell said to her. ‘You mean the world to me.’

She held him tighter, mumbling into his shoulder.

‘I love you too.’

That evening, Amaia, Farrell and Arlen found a table at an inn where they sat down together to eat, nestled in their own little corner, away from the other tables, Amaia sat between Arlen and Farrell, smiling at each of them.

‘This is nice’ she said happily. ‘It’s like we’re a real family.’

’We are a real family’ Arlen told her firmly.

‘Of course we are’ she beamed at him. ‘I’m just…I’m just so happy.’ She reached out to Farrell and Arlen either side of her on the bench, pulling them both close in a hug. ‘These have been the happiest days for me. I know I made the right decision coming back. I’m just…so so happy.’

‘We’re glad you’re so easily amused’ Arlen chuckled.

‘Amused is not the right word’ Amaia frowned at him, letting them both go again. ‘I’ve just…it’s been such a long journey I’ve endured. I feel it’s finally come to its end.’

‘A happy end?’ Farrell asked her.

‘A happy end’ she repeated, turning and smiling at him.

They all looked at each other, and together raised their tankards in a toast.

‘To happy endings?’ Arlen said.

‘To happy endings’ Farrell and Amaia echoed.

They all drank deeply then, even Amaia who was a match for either man drank heavily.

She placed the tankard down heavily, hand going to her lips as she hiccupped.

‘So’ Farrell asked, staring at his own tankard before him, ‘the question remains. Where should we go from here?’

Arlen and Amaia glanced up at him uncertainly.

‘I think we should all stick together’ Arlen said, ‘if that’s ok with everyone. I feel we have spent far too long apart. We’ve each got a lot of lost time to make up for. And after all…I think family should stay together.’

‘I think that’s a great idea’ Amaia beamed.

‘But where should we go?’ Farrell asked. ‘What should we do?’

‘Well we could go anywhere’ Amaia thought aloud, ‘anywhere at all, and do whatever we want.’

‘Did you have any particular place in mind?’ Arlen asked her.

‘I know, let’s go everywhere!’

Arlen threw his head back in laughter.

‘I’m serious’ Amaia frowned furiously. ‘I’ve stayed too long rooted to one place or another, too long stuck where I didn’t want to be. Unless I have a good reason to stay, then I want to move on, perhaps see the world.’

Arlen and Farrell looked to one another. Arlen’s eyes glinted, his smile stretched into a wide grin.

‘Well…’ Arlen said, ‘wherever the wind might take us, from now on, I want us to enjoy every step.’

He lifted his tankard again to toast.

‘To the future’ he said.

‘To the future’ Amaia and Farrell mimicked.

That night, they all slept at the inn in separate rooms, Amaia woke early, feeling happy, feeling excited. She couldn’t sleep, so rose, and went to wander alone, at long last in her life feeling safe to do so.

It was still quiet in the streets of the town they had come to, and Amaia ambled between the houses, breathing in the fresh morning air, still cool from the night.

She came to a fountain, behind which grew a beautiful tree, with little flowers blooming from the tips of every branch.

Amaia paused here for a moment, picking up a handful of the fallen petals and blowing them away across the water in the fountain. They landed lightly, the pink petals floating gently on the surface.

A flurry of petals fell over her head then, and she glanced up, seeing a curious thing. A man in the tree hanging upside-down was watching her. He offered her a tiny flower picked from the tree, and she took it from him tentatively.

He climbed down from the tree, turning upright with fluid smooth motions, as at home in the tree as a spider in its web. He landed lightly before her, straightening up and facing her.

‘Such skill it must take to hang in the tree like that’ Amaia told him.

‘I was an assassin’ he said, ‘such skills were expected of me. But that is a dark past that is far behind me. I wish for a better future, a brighter and happier future.’ He offered her another flower, not one from the tree, but a secret one hidden up his sleeve, a beautiful white, trumpet-shaped flower, which he offered to her.

‘Dare I ask’ he began, ‘the lady her name?’

‘Amaia’ she breathed.

He smiled kindly.

‘Mine is Carl.’

A year passes

‘You want to take her away from me?’ Farrell hissed under his breath.

‘No no’ Carl said defensively. ‘It’s not like that. I love her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.’

‘How do I know you’re good enough for her?’

‘I promise’ Carl said, placing his hand upon his heart, ‘in the name of each of the seven gods that will be good to her, always…’

Farrell stepped back, frowning in thought.

‘Please’ Carl said. ‘I never knew how dead I was until I met her.’

‘Farrell’ came Arlen’s voice from behind him. ‘Will you stop tormenting the poor man?’

Farrell turned to him. ‘You shouldn’t be sneaking up behind me like that.’

‘Oh please’ Arlen smirked, uncrossing his arms and stepping forward. ‘Amaia means as much to me as she does to you, and I believe he will treat her well’ he said nodding towards Carl. ‘I know…I can see in his heart that he truly loves her.’

Farrell gritted his teeth then as he considered Carl before him.

Farrell walked down the street, holding Amaia’s hand in his. Together they moved slowly towards Carl who waited for them at the end of the street.

They stopped when they reached him, letting go of each other.

‘Thank you for everything’ Amaia said to Farrell, glowing with joy. She leant forward and kissed his cheek, turning then to Arlen who had followed behind them and giving him a firm hug. ‘Both of you’ she said.

‘I trust you will take good care of her’ Farrell spoke firmly to Carl.

‘To the best of my abilities’ Carl bowed low.

‘Goodbye Amaia’ Arlen said, wiping a tear from her cheek and holding back his own. ‘We will still see each other won’t we?’

‘I’ll visit you’ Amaia told him, ‘whenever I can.’

‘I know you will.’

Amaia stepped back from him, turning now towards Carl and taking his hand.

Farrell and Arlen watched as Amaia and Carl walked away together, down the street and towards the two waiting horses. They both mounted them; Amaia pulled her mare around to face Farrell and Arlen, who waved to her. She smiled and waved back, one last time, before sending her horse around to follow after Carl’s.

The two headed away from the town and to his new home, a long way away.

‘I think this counts as a happily ever after’ Arlen grinned, lowering his hand.

Beside him Farrell looked sullen.

‘Oh cheer up’ Arlen nudged him roughly. ‘Come on’ he said putting his arm around Farrell’s shoulders and walking with him. ‘Let’s go and have a drink to celebrate a happy ending.’

Tristan sat alone in the dark of his home, staring at the empty bottles piled up on the table before him. He had lost a lot of weight over the months that had passed. Once healthy and fit and handsome, now he looked gaunt and skeletal, with pale skin and sunken eyes.

He sat miserably where he was with eyes out of focus; the same memory, whether he was sleeping or awake, would cycle over and over again in his mind.

He was leaning over Olithia, holding her hand in his and shaking her.

‘Olithia! Olithia stay with me.’

‘I’m sorry’ the midwife told him. ‘She’s gone.’

‘And the baby?’

‘Still born.’

Tristan rose to his feet, letting go of his wife’s hand and walking away.

A tear shimmered in his eye, and ran down his cheek silently.

Tristan stared at the bottles, thinking the same thoughts over and over; until at last a new thought struck him, as he remembered someone he had almost forgotten.

‘Amaia…’

He rose to his feet and left the room behind him.