Remembered (29 page)

“Kellus,” Nordorum said firmly, “have you been listening to
what I’ve said.”

“Yes, of course,” he lied.

“If what you say is true,” Nordorum continued, “and she is
alive, as soon as she returns you would be free to go to her.”

Kellus nodded.

And so, after a week, he found himself back at the Citadom.

It didn’t take him long to realize that the whole thing was
a sham. He no longer had anything to offer this place, couldn’t function as a
valuable member of this society. This was merely a case of one hundred men desperately
trying to save one worthless life. He could give nothing in return. She had
taken everything with her when she disappeared, leaving him an empty, soulless,
walking corpse.

He cursed himself constantly for falling so hard, for
believing in the dream.

He stayed indoors as often as possible, finding the summer
breeze a mockery, recoiling from the sight of flowers, shrinking from the sound
of laughter. Why were there still bright colors? Why hadn’t everything turned gray?
How was there still joy and humor in this hell? How can life go on when she was
no longer with him?

And the pain burned always, tearing at his insides, searing
his flesh from within. A hundred thousand sharp needles jabbed at his skin
constantly, an agony that only her touch could heal.

Why wouldn’t someone take pity on him and put him out of his
misery?

The drinking started in earnest as the summer came to a
close.

It was innocent enough at first.

One evening at dinner, he rolled food around his plate as
usual—rarely did any nourishment enter his mouth—when he noted the effects of
the wine he drank. An almost pleasant numbness came over him. After six large
glasses, he knew he could make it through the night without crying.

 Every night for a week, he repeated this trend, feeling
smug that he’d cheated the nights of their torment.

Soon, the days were more unbearable than the evenings. He
could think of only one way to rectify that. He sneaked into the kitchens
between classes and drank down almost an entire bottle in a couple of quick
mouthfuls. He thought no one was the wiser, but after another two weeks, he was
polishing off over five bottles a day. The one benefit to drinking all day
long, every day, was that he never felt the effects of a hangover.

One evening, he woke in the hospital with no memory of how
he had gotten there.

Conor came over to him. “How are you feeling?” he asked
kindly.

‘Like shit
.’ “Okay,” Kellus lied. “What happened?”

“You passed out drunk in the hallway outside the meditation
room,” Conor answered. “Kellus, when was the last time you’ve eaten?”

He really couldn’t answer that question. He shrugged his
shoulders.

“You’re very ill,” Conor added. “You won’t last another two
months at this rate.”

‘Good.’

“I’m keeping you here for the rest of the week,” Conor continued.
“We’re going to sober you up and get some nutrients and fluids into you.”

“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed.

Two days later, the burning pain returned. His body screamed
out for Annie, or was it alcohol? Did it even matter which at this point?

Five days later, he was out of the hospital and on his way
home. His father said nothing to him as they travelled along, but he knew that
his father had been told of his hospital stay.

As soon as he walked through the door, he went to the
kitchen and grabbed three bottles of wine from a cupboard. Not bothering with a
glass—swigging it right from the bottle was quicker—he walked back out,
noticing Cora watching him from the corner of her eye.

He didn’t join his family for dinner that night, couldn’t be
bothered with the strained conversations. He spent the night in drunken bliss.

The following morning, he walked downstairs and went
straight for the same cupboard.

It was empty.

Ah, so Cora had told on him, and they thought they could
stop him by hiding the wine.

He walked out the backdoor and to the left, to the shed
where he and Markum kept their cider.

That was empty also.

“Don’t even bother looking,” Markum called out. “I’ve hidden
it somewhere you won’t find it.”

Kellus balled his hands into fists. “Why are you fucking
doing this?” he seethed.

“I’m trying to save your life,” Markum answered
matter-of-factly.

Kellus lunged at his brother.

Markum was bigger than Kellus—muscled to the extreme—but
normally Kellus was more agile, more limber, and their playful fights had
always been even. Now, Kellus barely had the strength to stand up straight.
Markum had him in a vice-grip immediately. Max appeared by his side and
together they managed to drag Kellus upstairs to his room, locking the door
behind them.

He lay on his bed and draped his arm over his face,
exhausted.

Less than an hour later, he heard the lock click open.
Markum, Max, Zifini and Cora entered the room, all four somber faced.

After forty-five minutes of relentless intervention, Kellus
ordered them from his room, but they wouldn’t move.

Markum and Zifini pleaded repetitively for him to take
better care of himself, but they were getting nowhere.

Finally, Cora put up her hand to silence them both. She
looked deep into Kellus’s eyes and spoke from her heart. “Max and I lost our
parents at the age of twelve,” she reminded him. “We were devastated and
scared. Annie was devastated and scared, but she found the strength to face the
pain and to do everything in her power for us. She sacrificed everything for
us. Now, she’s gone also. So I think that both Max and I would have every right
to fall apart the way you have. We could take to constant drinking also, but
that’s not what she would want for us. In doing so, we would be making a
mockery of her efforts, of everything she ever did or gave up for us.”

Kellus swallowed hard, he knew where this was going.

“In many ways, she loved you even more,” Cora continued.
“She would be so upset to see you this way. She wouldn’t want this for you.”

He fell apart. He knew Cora was right. Suddenly, he was
riddled with shame, embarrassed by his weaknesses. He gave in and promised to
stop the alcohol abuse.

He spent the remainder of the day, curled up in a ball,
crying his heart out.

He returned to the Citadom and let the pain have him. He
understood that this was now his lot in life, agony beyond belief, but for the
little time he’d had with her, maybe in some way it was worth it.

Some months later, the dreams started.

This brought on a whole new level to the suffering.

Every night, he held her in his dreams, made love to her in
sleep, every morning he lost her all over again. When he thought that things
couldn’t get any worse, like a cruel joke, the Universe taught him differently.

Could black get any blacker? Could emptiness expand? Apparently,
it could.

He left the hospital on Thursday morning and joined the
other apprentices in the dining room for breakfast.

“How are you feeling, Kellus?” Danus asked with concern.

“I’m fine,” he lied. He would never be fine again, not in
this lifetime.

As the day wore on, he started to form a plan. He always
thought he knew that Annie was alive somewhere, but that didn’t mean she’d ever
be coming back to him. He could spend decades waiting, and he would if he had
confirmation.

He knew he could never kill himself with a dagger or knife;
his mother would never get over the horror of that. But suicide by alcohol was
gradual and unnoticeable. If he was really careful this time, he could hide it
from them until the very end. So, the promise that he’d made his siblings
months ago was about to be broken.

 On Friday, he cleaned up well, forced a smile onto his
face, and went to meet his father.

It was an easy plan. If he convinced his family that he was
feeling better, they wouldn’t sneak around behind him constantly. At the first
opportunity he had, he would sneak out unnoticed, hide the wine and cider down
on the farm, and then ask his father if he could borrow a carriage for some
made up errand. Then he would collect the booze, take it to the Citadom, and
sneak it into his room. There were a few minor details to work out, but he felt
confident that he’d find solutions as he went.

For the first time in months, Kellus felt a surge of hope.
He believed that all his suffering would be over soon enough.

By the time he walked out the front door, Tol was already
waiting for him. Whatever his mother had planned must have been very important
to her for Tol to be in such a hurry to get home.

He climbed up next to his father and managed an enthusiastic
greeting.

They rode quietly past the bank, turning right onto Sarry
Road.

When they reached the Ocean Road, Tol pulled the carriage
over and parked it by the beach wall. He turned to his son. “Kellus, I have
something to tell you,” he said. Then the biggest, happiest of smiles spread
across his face.

“What?” Kellus questioned, pretending to sound interested.

Then Tol uttered the words that would thwart his plan, the
words that would forever be burned into his memory. “Son, Annie’s back!”

Annella Kir

Annie woke feeling sick with nerves.

It was finally Friday and Kellus would be home later that
afternoon.

She went down to the kitchen, knowing that eating would
prove to be impossible.

“What’s the matter?” Sara asked, immediately sensing that
Annie was not well.

Annie shook her head, saying nothing, and jumped on the
kitchen counter, dangling her legs like a small child.

Cora and Zifini wished her good-morning with questioning
looks.

“You look ill, child,” Sara said.

All three stared at her, waiting for an explanation.

She shook her head again. It seemed that her lips were stuck
together.

“Are you anxious about seeing Kellus today?” Sara asked.

Annie nodded. Her stomach, upon hearing his name, wanted to
jump out of her mouth.

“You poor thing,” Sara mumbled, putting her arms around
Annie’s waist. “Please don’t be anxious, everything will be fine.”

“I’m sorry, Annie,” Zifini interjected. “I do love my brother
and all, but I can’t imagine anyone getting this worked up over seeing him.
It’s only Kellus.”

“You may understand one day,” Sara scolded. “I can’t wait
until you fall in love. I wonder how rational your behavior will be then.” She
placed a cup of tea and a plate of dry toast on the counter next to Annie. “Eat,”
she ordered.

Annie forced the dried toast down and continued to dangle
her legs, unable to talk.

“You can’t sit there like a fool all day,” Cora scolded.
“Let’s do something, anything to get your mind off Kellus.”

“Can we sit in the apple orchard for a while?” Annie asked,
finding her voice at last.

“We’ll help Sara clean up the breakfast dishes first,” Cora
suggested.

“No,” Sara argued, looking over at Annie. “Go now. I think
she needs air. She looks green.”

Annie ran upstairs quickly to take a book from the
bookshelf. She threw on Kellus’s coat and met Cora and Zifini outside by the
gate.

Once inside the orchard, Annie sat on a small, white, stone
bench that was situated directly under the first archway. She opened the book
and read the first page while the two other girls sat on the grass, deep in
conversation.

There was no way for her to concentrate on the words; her
mind raced all over the place.

She felt so at home here, so completely comfortable, like
she’d always lived here. She had left West Vistira six months ago, where she
had lived for years with only a brother and sister. But here she was now with
two sisters, two brothers, and what felt like a new set of parents. And a
husband that she loved so unbelievably much. The thought of him caused her
stomach to start jumping again.

And then her mind drifted to Cappy.

What would Cappy think when Annie never returned? Would she
try looking for her? Would there be search parties formed in that world also,
only to pronounce her dead after ten days? Was that world even real, or had she
imagined it? Maybe she had banged her head, and that was all just a figment of
her imagination.

No.

No, that wasn’t possible. Cappy was real, she was definitely
real. Somewhere in time and space, Cappy
did
exist.

She sighed heavily. She couldn’t even begin to deal with the
pain of that thought.

She opened the book again and forced herself to concentrate.

“We should head back,” Zifini said. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

Annie was very impressed with herself. She had managed to
lose time in one hundred and forty seven pages.

After lunch, and various other chores around the house,
Annie went upstairs to bathe and get dressed.

She walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a large towel,
and hurried into her room. She spent over thirty minutes scrunching her hair,
and scolding herself for not having the foresight to bring more clothes from
her little house. She had already borrowed two skirts from Cora in the past few
days.

As if reading her mind, the door knocked. When Annie
answered it, she saw Sara standing in the hall with a gold, velvet garment hung
over her arm.

“Come in,” Annie said. “What’s that?”

Sara placed a folded white cloth on the bed and spread the
gold garment out between both her hands, holding it out for Annie to admire. It
was the most beautiful skirt Annie had ever seen: soft, crushed velvet with
tiny gold beads running in three lines down the front.