by Dean Jones
Father of Storms
Dean Jones
Copyright © 2018 Dean Jones
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5272-3235-8
Dedication
For my Rachel who inspired me to write and motivated me to finish what I had started.
Contents
The Father of Storms
Prisoner
Where Is He?
Hope’s Plan
The Early Years
Ardeth’s Wrath
First Inquisition
The Lesson
Meeting the Mara
One Fateful Day
Good Morning Seth
No Longer Useful
A New Skill Mastered
The Night Before
Welcome Back
Two Souls Unite
Death of A Legend
Happiness at Last
Defending Our Lands
A New Master
The Meeting
A Decision Made
Waiting for News
Desperation of Aethelbald
De Ja Vu
A Conflict in Wessex
The Aftermath
News from Home
The Conspiracy
A Sacrifice Too Great
End of An Era
Find Them
New Day, New Pain
The Wait May Be Long
A Wandering Warrior
They’re Coming
A Purpose
A Soul Returned
Turning A Family
The Wait Is Over
Manipulating the Press
Our Child, At Last
A Family Trip
Interview with The Devil
Like Father, Like Daughter
The Zealots Story
Whose Fault Is It Really?
The Hunt
One Last Risk
Breaking Point
A Cornered Animal
Time to Leave
An End to It All
What Next?
The Father of Storms
The howling wind of a ferocious winter storm was tearing at the forest trees, forcing all living creatures, with any sense, to seek the safety of their hollows and dens. The black clouds rolled across the heavens sucking all sunlight from the sky and plunging the landscape into an early night.
Two men forced their way through the storm and the debris of broken trees. Around them the swirl of freezing raindrops, which were hurled by the wind like stones, threatened to strip the very bark from the trees.
Their attempts to remain standing, in the face of such ferocity, seemed a futile effort and yet they persevered.
The men used their hoods to shield their eyes from the worst of the stinging rain in their determined trek towards their destination. The larger of the two men tugged at his cloak trying to stave off the biting chill of the deep winter air as the second man sheltered in his wake.
They had needed to drive their staffs into the earth to ensure they weren’t blown from their feet by the violent gusts on more than one occasion as they moved along the path.
The noise of the storm had long since taken the sounds of their shouts making hand signals and gestures the only form of communication. The larger man stumbled on, regardless of the storm’s apparent desire to stop them reaching their journey's end, he had to get home nothing was more important, and this storm would not stop him.
The effort of the short journey from the centre of the village had taken its toll and both men felt they had been walking for days but their goal was now in sight and they made their way slowly up the hill towards the glow of a small house ahead.
In the house, three women busied themselves with the tasks which needed to be completed before the arrival. The two older women fussed over pots of water and stirred the contents of a stew, which hung over the open fire. The bubbling liquid gave off a hearty aroma of vegetables and meat, filling the room and beckoning the men home.
The third woman was lying on a bed of animal furs, breathing hard with beads of sweat making their way down her face as she bites down on a small stick of wood. Groaning with the pain she tries to maintain her focus of bringing their first child into the world.
“Hush, Edith,” the first lady said, as she wiped the gathering sweat from around her face, “You listen to old Mae now child, it’s nearly time.” Edith shook her head and her eyes flicked to the door, Mae followed her gaze and looked back with a smile. “He’ll be here soon, you mark my words.” She declared as she arranged her skirts about her as she nestled down next to Edith.
“Garrett has only been late once in his life and that was the day I brought him into this world. Don’t you worry; he won’t be missing the arrival of his first child!”
Edith threw her head back and her scream, stifled by the stick in her teeth, expressed her panic as she convulsed with pain knowing she cannot hold back the urge to push any longer.
“Ardeth, hurry with the water… it's time!” Mae calls.
Ardeth leaves the stew and pulls a pot from beside the fire and carries it over to where Edith and Mae are waiting. Mae straightens up the furs around Edith and whispers softly whilst she strokes her hair keeping a soothing hum in her voice as the wood once again muffles the young woman’s scream.
“What a night to be birthing, Mae,” Ardeth says as she waits behind the old woman. “I have never heard of its like, nor seen one take hold so quickly in all my years.”
Mae looks up briefly at Ardeth and nods towards the pot bubbling over the fire. Instinctively, she knows what Mae is telling her to do and heads promptly back to the pot to stir the contents sending a fresh wave of earthiness into the small room.
Mae gives Edith another reassuring smile, “pay no mind to Ardeth, my dear, the Father of Storms is active, but he is only removing the weak and fallen from the land so new life can begin. It’s a good omen on this night and you should take heart, that the Gods themselves are watching.”
Suddenly the door crashes open and with it the storm enters the room and searches out the warmth, trying to tear it from those who hold it so dear. The fire struggles to keep hold as two men fall through the open door and immediately set about closing it behind them.
Edith looks up, catches Garrett’s eye and breathes a sigh of relief as Ardeth rushes from the hearth to meet them both. Before they have a chance to take in the scene that’s playing out before them, she drags them through a curtain and out of the room.
Mae looks down at Edith and a knowing smile creeps across her lips, “are you ready now?”
Edith grunts and begins to push almost delirious with the pain. Mae continues her humming whispers and strokes Edith’s uncovered arm gently.
“You stay here Garrett,” Ardeth says as she pulls the curtain closed, “there’s no place for men when there’s a birthing going on…you too Felix,” she points at the smaller man, “there’s never a place for you when anything important is going on!”
Ardeth gives them both a stern look to enforce her words, before turning and heading back through the curtain leaving them alone with only the smell of the food on the fire and sound of the muffled screams coming from Edith for company.
Garrett removes his cloak and places it on a small stool under the window then moves towards the curtain and places his ear against the cloth.
Felix surveys the small room and smells the air around them whilst involuntarily licking his lips in anticipation of the promise of the food the aroma brings. Garrett turns from the curtain to Felix, who is placing his own cloak on top of his own.
Felix glances back and sees his brother wringing his hands and looking as helpless as he’s ever seen him. “Come sit down, you’re doing no good guarding the curtain.” He instru
cts.
Garrett pauses for a moment before heading to the stool under the window and sitting down on both their cloaks.
Time passes and the night falls as they wait, bringing a deep darkness with it. The storm continues to rage outside the window as Garrett sits listening to his wife scream and groan.
The noise of his wife’s struggles is interspersed by the sound of Mae and Ardeth giving encouragement and singing soft birthing songs to help soothe and ease the coming of the new life.
Suddenly, there was an almighty scream followed by congratulatory comments from Ardeth. Garrett stood and turned to move towards the curtain but stopped when he heard only silence where he expected a baby’s cry.
Felix placed a hand on his big brother's arm and looked down with sadness in his eyes.
The weight of what the silence meant hit Garrett in the chest hard and he dropped back to the stool with a thump. Beyond the curtain were sounds of hurried activity along with muffled cries from his wife but he paid them little heed as he knew his child was born still and it would take a miracle for the child to be revived.
Garrett peered out of the window into the dark stormy night then closed his eyes and listened to the wind and the creaking branches of the trees outside. He held his breath for a second and in that moment, he opened his heart to the night.
Thunor, almighty God of thunder. You are present this night removing the weakness from the land and I ask your help to bring my child through the darkness, so his soul may find the vessel we have created for it. Please show mercy on my child, they may be weak now, but I know in my heart the child will grow strong. He prayed whilst bowing his head reverently.
There was blinding flash in the sky followed by an almighty boom as lightning spread across the dark clouds above them. The sound shook the very house and even Garrett flinched in fear.
As the sound of the thunder disappeared it was replaced by the sound of a baby’s cry.
A few moments later Ardeth came through the curtain with a bundle of tightly wrapped cloth and made her way to where Garrett stood.
“Here is your son Garrett…. he’s a fine boy!”
Garrett looked down at the bundle in Ardeth’s arms and saw a small face peeking up at him. He looked at Felix who was standing to the side and grinned proudly then turned back to Ardeth.
“Edith?” He asked, his deep voice filling the silence his son’s arrival had brought.
Ardeth looked at him with gentle eyes, “she’s been through a lot this night Garrett, your son is a boy after his father’s image and Edith is only a small woman to be birthing a boy so big.”
The words hung in the air in front of Garrett who couldn’t quite bring himself to let them into his ears, believing if they stayed where they were their meaning would be less than it was.
“Mae is taking good care of her, but she has lost a lot of blood and is weak from pushing.” Ardeth saw the look on Garrett’s face and quickly added, “but she is a strong woman, she’ll be fine.”
Garrett stared blankly at the curtain again where only moments before there had been the sounds of childbirth but now only the rhythmic hum of Mae’s voice carried through the air to where he stood.
Ardeth nudged the big man’s arm with the baby held out for Garrett to take. Garrett looked down and held out his hands without thinking. Ardeth placed the boy into them, pulled back and left the room to return to Mae and Edith.
Garrett stood frozen with his son wriggling in his hands, only when the baby let out a cry did he wake from his reverie and look down again at the bundle in his care.
The baby looked up deep into Garret’s eyes and touched his heart. He pulled him close for the first time and breathed a whisper into his ear, “your mother is fighting in that room my son; I need you to reach out to her and bring her back to us.” A smile forced its way onto Garrett’s lips as he looked again into the eyes of his child, Garrett was sure he saw a small nod.
“Pass him over, Garrett,” Felix made his way over with arms outstretched. Garrett looked up from his son and passed him across to Felix who held him up for inspection. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw he held him close and took in a breath of his newborn nephew.
“There’s something about the smell of babies, don’t you think so, Garrett?”
Garrett nodded absentmindedly and moved towards the curtain again listening intently for any noise or murmur from Edith.
There was a gurgle from behind him and then a small cry as Felix quickly shot to Garrett and passed his son back to him, “don’t think he likes me,” Felix said as Garret took the boy from him.
“Garrett!” it was Edith calling him and he shot through the curtain and was at her side in a heartbeat cradling their son in his bear-like arms whilst his crouched down beside her.
Edith looked from Garret to their son and smiled, “what do you want to call him? I thought Kendrick after your father?”
Garrett shook his head and considered for a moment then turned to Mae, “will she get well again?” The concern in his voice unmistakable.
Mae smiled and looked at the baby, “it was the sound of his cry which brought her back…so long as he’s around her she’ll be back to good health in no time.” She brushed the nose of the boy with her finger and nodded to him.
“Seth…we’ll name him Seth!” Garrett spoke with a decisive tone which let all know he’d made up his mind.
Mae nodded thoughtfully and took Seth from his father’s arms. “Well young Seth, that’s a mighty fine name to be carrying around with you.” She paused for a moment and considered the child in her arms.
Seth looked up at Mae with an unmistakable air of understanding she hadn’t seen in many years.
“Your cry drowns out the storm which brought you to this life, and the sound brings comfort to your mother, but I dare say too much of it will bring the opposite, especially if you decide to keep her awake with your demands.” She gave a knowing laugh and Felix clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“She’s not wrong there!” he whispered into his ear.
Seth gave a gurgle and shifted in Mae’s grip, as she passed him to Edith who held her son for the first time and a tear rolled down her cheek as she looked into his deep eyes, “are you hungry my beautiful boy? You must be after all this.” Edith sat back on the furs and brought Seth to her breast; he took the invitation quickly and began his first feed.
Prisoner
Seth’s eyes opened, and he was instantly aware he didn’t know where he was.
Groggily he rolled from the bed and landed with a thud on the cold stone floor. On all fours, he took some deep breaths to try to clear his head, but the incessant buzzing was so distracting he couldn’t think straight. Visions popped in and out of his mind, pictures of a woman and a little girl lying broken on the ground with scorch marks all around them.
He shook his head and raised himself to his haunches still breathing in and out to try and slow his heart, which he was aware was racing faster than he would have expected having just awoken.
The images in his mind faded and reformed, what these memories were he wasn’t sure, but he did recognise the woman and child.
“Marcy? Hope?” He said as the realisation hit him as he put his hands to his temples to rub the image away.
Trying hard to clear his mind he focused on what he knew, he was in a room, but he didn’t know where he was or how he got here. He started to turn his head slowly to the side and took in his surroundings.
The room was small with a window at the farthest end of the room from where he sat. Climbing to his feet he paced the floor to the window and counted six paces. The window only showed the blue sky with the occasional cloud floating across the vista. Suddenly there was a click, Seth turned to his left to see a TV hanging from the corner of the room starting to show images from a news reporter called Nicola Stuart. She was talking about some kind of disaster it seemed. The TV was silent, and Seth watched the pictures.
Across the bottom
of the screen under her name, there was a scrolling script describing a mass murder in London and police were searching for a man they believed had set off a bomb or electromagnetic charge. It also stated fifty-seven people were dead including a fifteen-year-old girl and her mother believed to be the attacker's wife and daughter.
As suddenly as it had come on the TV was off again and Seth was left with the images of his wife and daughter in his mind and now this reporter seemingly confirming they were dead.
It couldn’t happen, I don’t believe it! he said to himself to try to drive the images from his mind.
The buzzing returned stronger and with it so did the images of Marcy and Hope burned and broken on the ground. It didn’t make sense to him. The hairs on his arms stood up and he felt like someone had just walked over his grave.
Turning he saw a large glass mirror and immediately knew it to be one-way glass. Someone was watching him…but who?
Putting his hands on the glass he stared into the blackness and his own reflection wondering what was going on. “Is there someone in there?” He shouted and then banged a fist on the glass, “answer me, who are you? Why am I being held here?”
The sound of a key turning in a lock stopped him and he turned to see the door opening slowly. He thought about making a run for the door and tackling whoever was on the other side, but the buzzing increased, and his thoughts swam in his mind and left him struggling to think.
He dropped to his knees as more images of his family dead came unbidden into his consciousness. He looked up to see three men enter. The first one had a white hood over his head, hiding his face, and he stooped slightly as he shuffled into the room followed by two suited men with grim looks on their faces.
“I see you are awake Seth,” the hooded man said as he stopped in front of where he was kneeling.
“I must admit to enjoying the sight of you cowering at my feet, it is…fitting given the merry chase you have led me.” Seth looked up and stared into the darkness where his face should be.
The buzzing was intense, and the images were so vivid Seth felt sick at their sight, but it didn’t feel real, so he fought the memories and tried to focus on this man, who clearly had an issue with him.
