Remembered (24 page)

“I suppose…” Annie trailed off, pursing her lips in thought.

“Annie,” Cora chided. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,
but remember, this is your brother and sister-in-law. May I suggest that you
ignore their feelings—or lack thereof—for one another completely? The rest of
us have agreed to let them sort it out for themselves. We’re living under one
roof as a family. It’s the only way we could continue to do so in peace if it
shouldn’t work out.”

As usual, Cora was a voice of reason.

The following day, their lessons continued again until
lunchtime.

Markum explained that he wouldn’t be able to continue in the
afternoon as he needed to check on the farm. “There’s not much work to do this
afternoon,” he said to Max. “If you want to stay here, it’s fine with me. I
thought I could give Annie a tour. She hasn’t been down to the farm yet, and
it’s a perfect day as I only need to have a quick walk around to make sure
all’s well.”

Annie set out with Markum after lunch, wearing a large pair
of rubber boots, and a heavy, black, wool coat—seven sizes too big—that she
grabbed from Kellus’s wardrobe.

They walked through the gates that divided the family garden
from the rest of the land.

“To the right are two greenhouses; see right over there?”
Markum said, pointing towards large glass structures.  “I don’t go near them,
haven’t been inside since I was a boy. That’s mother’s hobby. She grows
tomatoes, peppers, beans, and exotic fruits.” He pointed further beyond. “Over
there is our chicken coup…I believe I may have one or two of your chickens,” he
said with a grin. “When Max and Cora came to live here, I went by your old
house to collect some things for them. I noticed the chickens and thought it
best to bring them.”

“Of course,” Annie said, nodding in agreement.

“In the large gray barn behind the greenhouses, we keep a
few cows for milking purposes.”

To the left of the chicken coup was another enormous barn in
the center of a large paddock—four horses grazed freely.

Markum took her hand and led her past the chickens. “Allow
me to show you the prettiest part of the whole farm,” he said, walking to the
far left. They walked through a tiny gate, much further past the horses, into a
beautiful apple orchid. Trees formed rows and rows of archways, pretty canopies
that offered a fairytale setting. The entire orchard was surrounded by hedging.

“You must yield enough apples to have pies for all of
Vistira,” Annie said.

“Oh, no,” Markum answered in mock horror, shaking his head.
“Kellus and I brew and bottle our own cider.”

“Really?” Annie questioned.

“Oh, yes,” Markum replied. “Your husband and I have spent
many winter’s nights drunk from cider, much to mother’s disgust. There’s also a
grape vine just beyond the orchard—”

“Let me guess; you also bottle your own wine,” Annie butted
in.

“Correct,” Markum said, laughing.

“It seems like a lot of work,” Annie commented.

“Trust me, you won’t be idle come harvest season. There is
ample work to be done in the fall.”

They walked through the apple orchard for a while. It was so
peaceful that Annie planned to spend a day there soon, with one of the many
books from Kellus’s bookshelves.

“Max has been a great help to me here,” Markum said as they
continued on down the land. “Kellus strongly dislikes working on the farm, but
Max seems more suited for it. And Cora has been a great help to mother.”

“How?” Annie questioned. She had only ever seen Cora set the
table for dinner.

“You’ve been sleeping later than the rest of us,” he
explained. “Your sister has been up milking cows at dawn with Zifini. When they’re
done with that, they help mother in the kitchen.”

Annie felt a bout of self-consciousness. She realized she
hadn’t been doing her part to help.

They walked further down, past rows and rows of vegetables,
as far as the eye could see.

“What do you grow here?” she questioned.

“Cabbages, carrots, potatoes, and many other things,” he
answered. “To the right, we have acres of wheat planted.”

“You really love this work, don’t you?” Annie asked,
noticing the pride on Markum’s face.

“Yes, I do,” he answered. “There’s nothing else I would
rather do for a living.”

“I’m glad Max has been able to help you so much,” she added.

“I’m really fond of Max,” Markum said sincerely. “It had
always been just the two of us, Kellus and me, growing up. We were playmates
since I can remember. Zifini as well, I suppose, but she could never keep up
with us. We played rough as boys: fighting, wrestling, and then sword fighting
when we grew older. I was pretty sociable at school, but as foolish as it
sounds, it never occurred to me to form close bonds with others. I always had
Kellus. When Kellus went to live at the Citadom, I hated it; it was like losing
a limb. So Max has been a very welcome friend. Well, more than a friend, I
suppose…he’s been a brother to me.”

Annie was suddenly overcome with an urge to throw her arms
around this big man. She gave into the urge. Standing on her tiptoes, she
hugged him tightly around the neck. “Thank you,” she said. “You can’t imagine
how happy I am to hear that.”

Markum laughed at her sudden display of emotion. “No, it’s
been my pleasure,” he assured her. “I only hope my sister realizes in time what
a wonderful person he is. She would be a fool to pass him up.”

“Cora warned me that we were not to discuss that,” Annie
said, letting go of Markum’s neck. She grabbed onto his upper arm as they
turned to head back. “I’m surprised you have an opinion about that.”

“How could I not?” Markum replied. “I spend every single day
with Max. He’s funny and smart, but when Zifini comes around, he turns into a
tongue-tied fool. It’s rather painful to watch at times.”

“Poor Max,” Annie sighed, wincing at the thought of her
brother’s discomfort.

“Poor Max, indeed,” Markum said, laughing, affectionately
tapping the hand that held his arm.

Kellus Kir

A sharp knock on the door woke Kellus from his dream.

“Kellus,” he heard Danus yell from the other side. “Kellus,
are you awake?”

“I am now, Danus,” he answered in a weak voice.

“Sorry, but you’re going to be late for our lessons with Mandolis.
Should I wait for you?” Danus asked.

“Give me five minutes,” Kellus yelled back.

He turned sideways in the small bed, feeling his insides
burning, and sucked in a deep breath.

Damn dreams. Damn tormenting dreams. Somehow, this had been
the worst yet.

She lay beside him in the little bed, facing the wall,
away from him. Her beautiful naked body pressed up against his chest, his leg
draped over hers.

He lifted a pile of her lovely brown hair with both hands
and buried his face in it, the smell of lavender filling his senses. Her
smooth, naturally tanned shoulders moved gently up and down in peaceful
slumber, safe between his embrace.

He kissed a lock, felt the silk slide from his lips, and
caught it on his finger, the soft curl wrapping around. He felt peaceful,
filled with contentment to have this perfect creature next to him.

He reached behind and grabbed a pillow, pulling it over his
face. He yelled her name into it. With each gut wrenching cry, he willed the Universe
to return her.

He rolled over, fell off the bed onto his hands and knees,
and shook with the intensity of his prayer. He knelt up straight onto the heels
of his feet and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to compose himself.

After a thirty second shower, he reached for a clean blue
uniform from the small closet inside the bathroom. Six months ago, he was sure
that he’d never put on this uniform again, but that was a different time, a
happy time full of excitement for the future. In that thought, a twisted irony
dwelt. He was the oath-breaker, after all; having made an oath that he would
keep at all costs, even if it meant losing his soul.

He looked at his reflection in the tiny mirror above the
sink and cringed. What stared back was a warped mockery of the man he’d once
been. Bright, happy eyes were replaced by windows to a black, soulless vacuum.
Sickly, sallow skin took the place of what was once the vibrancy of youth, the
glow of a young man entering the prime of his life, a life full of hope and
promise. What a bitter joke that turned out to be.

In a daze, Kellus opened the door to find Danus leaning up
against the far wall, waiting patiently—like he did every single morning. “How
are you this morning?” Danus asked cheerfully, almost too cheerfully, as usual,
as though, somehow, his perky mood would transfer onto his miserable friend. It
was the same question every fucking day. Wasn’t that considered a sign of
madness, to repeat the same action day in and day out and expect a different result?

“Fine,” Kellus mumbled, without a hint of a
‘thank you’
or even a smile for the show of support.

He noticed Danus shoot him a pitying look from the corner of
his eyes. His right hand twitched, eager to curl into a fist and slam against
Danus’s face. He didn’t want his fucking pity. But somewhere deep inside,
somewhere his rationality may have still lingered, he knew that Danus was only
trying to be a good friend, and he supposed he should be grateful. Nah, fuck
that! He didn’t want a friend. He wanted to be left alone. What he really
wanted was a drink, to drown himself in a few bottles of wine, but he’d made a
promise to his siblings, a promise that he was growing weaker and weaker by the
day to keep.

He relaxed his hand and shook his head. The violent urges
had to stop. Already he’d come very close to breaking Markum’s nose a few weeks
back. Markum’s only crime was to ask him to try to find some happiness in
life—as if it was that easy, as if this was a choice he made. He watched in
horror as the blood gushed down his brother’s face, disgusted by what he had
done. He begged for Markum’s forgiveness, only to have his brother turn it on
him—Markum apologized for the insensitive comment.

Kellus knew that he was slowly losing his mind, but could do
nothing to arrest the decay of his sanity. Truth be told, he really didn’t want
to.

He knew how they felt, how they all avoided him as much as
possible, his whole family stiffening when he walked through the door every
month for a weekend. He’d heard them talk in whispers and look suddenly
uncomfortable when he entered the room.

Maybe they regretted now that Markum had not allowed him to
slit his own throat. Maybe they wished he had. Maybe they’d all be better off
if he didn’t visit any more, if he didn’t go home again.

He entered the dining room with Danus and sat down at his
usual seat.

The other apprentices didn’t bother trying to engage him in
conversation anymore, having given up months ago.

Half way through breakfast, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
The Under Master leaned down into his face when he turned to look at him. “How
are you, young man?” Lionel asked.

“Fine, sir,” he lied.

“Are you sure?” Lionel pushed. “You seem very pale today.”

“I’m fine, sir,” he lied again.

“Okay,” Lionel replied dubiously, “but if you need anything,
don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, sir,” he mumbled.

He rose from the table after breakfast and followed the
other apprentices to their weapons training class.

There was a time, long ago, when he used to serve as
Mandolis’s assistant in this class—having been named the youngest sword master
in the Citadom ever, but that was a different time. Now, Mandolis left him
alone to go through the pathetic motions in the back of the room.

“Grab a wasty and make it hasty.” Mandolis laughed at his
own poor attempt at humor. Only Loc, the fucking suck-up, laughed along with
him.

“That’s a little thing my sister Annie used to say when my
father taught us both to use a sword,” Mandolis added, honing in on Loc.

Kellus felt his knees buckle.

“You have a sister named Annie?” the suck-up asked.

“Her name is Annimora. We call her Annie for short,”
Mandolis answered.

Kellus’s stomach lurched. He felt his mouth fill up with
bile.

“Are you alright, Kellus?” Mandolis asked, having realized
his blunder.

Danus let out a loud sigh.

Kellus threw his waster to the floor and walked quickly out
of the room, banging the door shut loudly.

He stumbled to the bathroom, leaning on the walls for
support. He staggered over to the nearest toilet bowl and vomited into it. He
splashed water onto his face and drank down two mouthfuls to clean the vile
taste from his mouth. He slid down onto the floor and rested his cheek against
the cold, hard tiles, feeling chills rattle through his body, trying to settle
his stomach.

“Annella!” he called out desperately, unfazed by who may
have heard.

Ages passed.

Finally, he heard the door creak open. He kept his eyes
closed, his face to the ground, not caring who found him in this position.

“Kellus?” a familiar voice called. Oh, shit. It was the
Master. “Kellus, Danus told me that I could probably find you in here. He was
worried about you.”

Kellus pushed up half way to face the Master, kneeling at
his feet.

“Would you like to talk?” Nordorum asked kindly.
Unexpectedly, he sat on the floor before Kellus, crossed-legged.

Kellus shook his head. “It’s not getting any easier,” he
mumbled.

“You told me, personally, that you believe she’s alive,”
Nordorum replied in a quiet voice. “You must find the strength to go on. You
don’t want her returning to a sick, broken man, do you?”