Remembered Read online

  She remembered her parents vividly. She remembered the day they died. She was sixteen when a carriage they were riding in went over the cliffs of the East-West Crossing, leaving her to raise her twin siblings, Max and Cora, who were only twelve at the time.

  She knew instinctively that she had lived in this little house for some years after that, doing everything in her power to give Max and Cora a stable life as they grew into their teenage years.

  But where were they now?

  It was evident that this house had been empty for ages. Where could they have gone? What happened to them? They were still considered minors, or they were the last time she’d seen them.

  Gripping the edge of the table for support, she shut her eyes and tried to think straight. She needed to find the twins, but had no idea where they were, or how long she’d been away from this place. She took several deep breathes to steady her heartbeats. Her head swam. She prayed she wouldn’t faint.

  She sat down at the wooden table and stared at the wall. Ages passed: minutes, hours, she couldn’t tell how long. Her mind was shutting down from shock.

  Then she knew, she remembered where she had seen that bedroom recently—her bedroom. Under hypnosis with Dr. Lewis, she remembered looking at that bed when she felt the hand cover her mouth. When a stranger named Lionel had kidnapped her and taken her who-knows-where.

  She remembered something else: Mr. and Mrs. Wellum—an elderly couple that lived in the house down the hill. They were her closest neighbors. Mr. Wellum sold fish at a stall in town and coincidently, was not only the town’s fishmonger, but also the local gossipmonger. How many times she had been apprehended by him and forced to hear the private doings of the townsfolk, she couldn’t begin to guess. Nothing ever happened in West Vistira that he didn’t know about. If he didn’t know where the twins were, no one would.

  The other mysteries would have to wait. First, she needed to find her brother and sister.

  She stumbled out of the front door and down the hill towards the Wellum’s house.

  She prayed that they still lived there, that they were home and that they had some information on the whereabouts of the twins, even if logic told her that her house had been empty for a long time. They could be long gone from the village by now.

  She was so panicked that vomit crept up her throat.

  She pounded on the Wellum’s front door, forgetting the early hour.

  Mrs. Wellum answered after a moment. Emily, or rather, Annella, shook with relief at the sight of her elderly neighbor.

  Mrs. Wellum’s eyes widened. She stood in the doorway, put a hand over her heart and stumbled backward. Her face drained of all color.

  Emily was vaguely aware of the shock she’d caused the woman, and then realized that she was following Mrs. Wellum into her home as she backed away from her.

  “Annella? Annella Derlyn, is that you?” Mrs. Wellum said. She had found her voice, but it was strained, stunned.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Emily answered, desperation causing her voice to sound two octaves higher than normal.

  “How can this be? You’ve been gone for over six months. You were presumed dead. The whole town searched for you…” Mr. Wellum trailed off, still clutching her heart.

  Gone for over six months. But what about the life time she had lived in New York City? Was that real or did she imagine that? She felt her head spinning. “May I sit down for a second,” she asked.

  Mrs. Wellum led her into the living room, never taking her eyes off the younger woman as though she was a ghost. She was visible frightened.

  “Over six months,” Emily said in quiet bewilderment. “How?

  After another moment of silence passed, she realized that she needed to focus on her brother and sister first. If they were gone, nothing else would ever matter. “Mrs. Wellum, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I assure you, I am not a ghost. I was taken from my home, but have managed to make it back. It’s really me.”

  “Annella, what happened to you? Where have you been?” Mrs. Wellum asked in a quiet voice. She seemed to relax slightly, believing that Annella was really in front of her. Her expression turned to one of genuine concern.

  “I was taken against my will, I think. I’m still not sure. I haven’t had time to work it all out yet. And I can’t think about that when there is something more important that I need.” Emily looked into the elderly woman’s eyes pleadingly. “Do you know what happened to my brother and sister?”

  Mrs. Wellum nodded. “A short time after you went missing, a young man came here. He took the twins away in his horse and carriage.”

  “What? Who was he? Do you mean that Cora and Max were kidnapped also?” Emily demanded, feeling mind-numbing panic.

  “I don’t believe your siblings were taken against their will,” Mrs. Wellum replied “I don’t know who this young man was. I had never seen him before. He had dark hair and was extremely handsome. At any rate, Cora waved to me as they passed. She looked terribly sad, but not the least bit frightened. I’m sure they must have known him. I’m sorry I can’t tell you anymore.”

  Emily put her face in her hands and let out a pained moan. Where would she begin to look for them? They were still considered children after all, even if only marginally.

  “Annella, my husband has gone to town, to market already. He will know where the twins are. I’m sure he tried to tell me who took them away, but I tire of his gossiping at times. I turn a deaf ear to him,” Mrs. Wellum offered sympathetically.

  “Thank you,” she said, getting to her feet. That gave her hope, but not much. She was sure that Mr. Wellum would have more information, but what if it was too late? What if she never found them? She stood up and made her way to the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Wellum. Thank you very much.”

  “Good luck, dear,” Mrs. Wellum replied. She walked her to the door, her hand still covering heart. “You have no idea what a blessing it is to see you again. I thank the heavens that you made it home safely.”

  In spite of the empty, desperate feeling inside of Emily, she couldn’t help noticing how at home she felt. It was all so familiar, and it was beautiful.

  She knew every little house on either side of the road. To the right was a sharp hill—behind the houses—that ended with another road, and across that road was the ocean, it’s water bluer than any she’d ever seen.

  Everything was much brighter here as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes: colors more vivid, sounds sharper, and smells more potent.

  She watched the ocean all the way down the hill until the road turned left, away from the sea and towards town.

  Two story buildings came into view—the town of West Vistira.

  She looked down at her clothing: jeans, sneakers, and a New York Mets hoodie. This was not good. People in Vistira did not dress this way. Women and girls wore long skirts or dresses. Pants or trousers were worn only by men, and jeans were none existent. Luckily, it was early morning, and not many people were in the streets yet.

  She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, trying to pull it as far down her face as possible. She walked with her head down, hoping to be unnoticed, knowing that her clothing might make that impossible. If everyone in town thought she had died, the last thing she wanted was to be bombarded with attention and awkward questions.

  Turning left unto Main Street—where the market was held every day—she looked up to see a large building that was the town’s center. It was out of proportion with the rest of the buildings—gray stone, enormous, with a large tower on the left hand side, making it look almost like a castle. The words ‘The Citadom’ sat etched into the stone above two large wooden doors. The sight of the Citadom caused a twinge, a strange flutter in her stomach. It seemed to hold something of significance to her, but she couldn’t recall what.

  She did remember, however, that this building housed Vistira’s government and law enforcers. But the men of the Citadom were not like typical police, they were more like peacekeepers, healers, and s
piritual advisors all wrapped into one. They were commonly referred to as Peacemen.

  The men of the Citadom were handpicked for this position, sometimes at a young age, due to some outstanding quality or sixth sense, like strong initiations, healing talents, or they may display strong leadership abilities. They took an oath to serve the public and forfeited a normal life, living the remainder of their days in the large gray building, unselfishly committed to the service of others. Each man was a soldier, politician, priest, and anything else they were needed to be—like Buddhist monks merged with firefighters, doctors, lawyers, and with a little NYPD thrown in. Among the many things they learned, they were also trained in holistic and spiritual healing.

  Emily looked to the right and scanned the stalls that made up the morning market, looking for an elderly man selling fish. It was all so strangely familiar.

  The market consisted of twenty stalls spread out around the town square—the large cobblestone center of town, bordered on all four sides by buildings. The Citadom stood alone on one side. To the left of the Citadom was the Bank Building, the second largest building in town, which also had a large stone staircase leading to the doorway, though not as steep as the steps to the Citadom. To the right was a row of two story buildings, and another row of similar buildings faced forward. Shops occupied the first floors.

  The town had a pretty fairytale look. Every stall that made up the market had a different colored canopy on top: bright oranges, yellows, greens, reds, and blues, giving West Vistira a festive look all year long.

  The shops of West Vistira, that framed the market square, sold everything from personal necessities, books, gifts, and materials. There was very little that Vistirans could not find in town.

  When she finally located Mr. Wellum, she made her way over to his stall, keeping her head down, but imagining she could feel eyes on her. She waited until he was finished setting up before approaching him. “Excuse me, Sir,” she whispered, closing the gap between their faces.

  He stared back at her questioningly at first, and then realization dawned on his face, which quickly turned to shock. “Annella Derlyn!” he gasped.

  “Please, Mr. Wellum,” she said in a hushed voice, pushing her hand down to signal that she wanted him to be quiet, “I don’t want to be noticed.”

  He looked around in every direction, and then beckoned her to join him on the other side of his stall, his face the same shade of pale that his wife’s had turned upon seeing her. The smell of salty fish made her nauseous and weak, so she nodded to the wooden boxes and asked if she could sit.

  Mr. Wellum joined her on the crate and turned to look at her in awe. “This is a miracle. It is unbelievable,” he marveled. “Where have you been? The town assumed you were dead months ago.”

  “I know that,” she replied. “I went to your home. I spoke with Mrs. Wellum. I can’t really tell you where I’ve been, only that I didn’t leave of my own will.”

  “Is that so?” he said, eyes wide. “You must tell me everything.”

  “I can’t just yet,” she replied. “I have yet to piece it together. I can’t remember exactly what happened.”

  “But why have you come seeking me out?” he asked, slightly disappointed.

  “Your wife thinks that you may have some information regarding my brother and sister. She said someone took them away. Do you know who?” She crossed her fingers; this was her only hope.

  “Ah, of course,” Mr. Wellum said, the cheerful look on his face filling her with relief. He looked around again, and then lowered his head to hers. “When you went missing, the town formed a search party. Ten days the search lasted, our numbers in the hundreds. Day and night the search went on. It stretched to every corner of Vistira. When not so much as a trace of you was uncovered, the search was finally called off. Everyone assumed you were dead, carried off by the sea perhaps…but you were kidnapped?” he added with a sorrowful look.

  “My brother and sister thought I was dead,” she said regretfully, ignoring his last inquiry.

  “Yes, we all did,” he added.

  “What happened to them?” she asked, her voice sounding dead.

  “At that time, young Markum Kir went to your home. He went to fetch your brother and sister,” Mr. Wellum explained. “He brought them to his family’s homestead. I believe they have been living there ever since.”

  ‘Markum Kir? Why does that name sound so familiar?’ She thought. “Who is this Markum Kir?” she asked firmly. “And why would they go to live with a stranger? Where is his homestead?”

  “You do not know?” Mr. Wellum asked, giving her a look like she had gone mad. “You don’t remember?”

  “The name seems familiar to me, but I can’t place it just now,” she answered, feeling agitated.

  “What happened to you?” he asked again, almost seeming disgusted.

  “Please, just tell me who this Markum Kir is,” She begged.

  “Annella…Markum Kir is the brother of your young lover,” Mr. Wellum answered matter-of-factly.

  “My what?” she bellowed.

  “Yes, your lover…Kellus Kir,” he replied.

  “Kellus…Kellus,” she repeated, shock rippling through her. He was real. She did know him after all.

  “Yes,” Mr. Well said. “It has become common knowledge that you and young Kellus Kir were romantically involved. There are rumors that you may have married in secret mere weeks before you went missing.”

  “Yes,” she screeched aloud, putting her hand over her mouth. “Yes, I remember Kellus now.” She felt a ripping at her heart, a loss so severe that she thought she would stop breathing. She wasn’t sure how many more shocks she could endure this day. “Where is his house?” she asked in a hurried voice.

  “You don’t know?” Mr. Wellum questioned.

  “Kellus and I kept our affair a secret. It was important that no one knew, but I cannot remember why. The only member of his family I’ve ever met is his father…I think.”

  “You don’t remember the reason for the secrecy?” he asked, his eyes flickering towards the Citadom.

  “I can’t recall now. Everything is still unclear,” she answered.

  Mr. Wellum told her to walk down past the bank building, turning left onto the Ocean Road. After an hour, maybe less, she would see a large brown house easily from the street. “Annella, if you want to remain unnoticed, I suggest you discard the strange clothing,” he added when she stood to leave.

  “Yes, of course,” she replied. “I’ll go home first and change. Thank you again.”

  “The Kir’s house is the fifth left along the Ocean Road,” he called after her.

  She headed back in the direction she had come from, hoping that there would still be something more appropriate to wear back in her little house.

  As she passed the big gray building, she looked up from under her hood, and the sight that she saw caused her to halt abruptly. Three young men were descending the steps of the Citadom, dressed in the same blue uniform: a high neck shirt with buttons down the front, and loose trousers of the same color. The uniform had an Asian look to it, almost like the pajamas one could buy in Chinatown, but made of thicker material. They wore a tan sash around the waist, tied in a knot on the left hand side, leaving the remainder of the material to run down past their hips. She knew that concealed under the sash was a dagger. Each apprentice carried one.

  She froze in place because the sight of these men unleashed a flood of memories. She had seen Kellus in that uniform many times.

  Kellus was an apprentice peaceman.

  The apprentices took a vow of celibacy for the five years of training, prohibited from becoming romantically involved.

  Their relationship had been forbidden.

  She scanned her memory for more information, things that were common knowledge to the people of Vistira. The memories flowed easily—memories that had been buried until that morning. She remembered that once an apprentice graduated to peaceman, he was still not at liberty to
marry, but he could take a lover if he wished, but to father a child was strictly forbidden. Their lives were to be dedicated to their vocation alone.

  The peaceman wore a darker blue uniform than the apprentices. The Master—the title given to the man in the highest position—wore black, and the Under Master—who was second in command—wore charcoal gray. It came back to her in spades.

  She walked back up the hill, her mind teeming with memories as if someone had opened a floodgate, and she remembered every moment with Kellus.

  She entered her little house once more, sat down on the floor in front of the stove, and let her mind drift back to the beginning.

  Annella Derlyn

  Chapter 7

  “Cora. Cora, can you come here please?” Annella yelled out the kitchen window.

  “What is it, Annie?” Cora called back.

  “Can you watch the stove? I want to run down to Mrs. Wellum’s house to return a book I borrowed from her.”

  Cora walked casually through the back door.

  “Where’s Max?” Annella asked.

  “He’s gone fishing with a few boys from school,” Cora answered, flopping into one of the armchairs.

  “He did? Good,” Annie answered, pleasantly surprised. Cora and Max were not as sociable as she would have liked them to be. Like her, they were home birds, although it was not really a choice that Annie had made. She had a house to run, and two teenagers to care for alone, leaving her precious little time for a social life.

  She walked out the front door, sliding into a light cardigan, and breathed in the crisp ocean air.

  She looked to the left and stopped in her tracks, her face turning warm. Ten young men were marching up the hill, coming from the direction that she was heading in, all wearing the uniform of the apprentice peacemen.

  Suddenly overcome with shyness, she was reluctant to walk past so many young men at once. She tried her hardest not to make eye contact, very aware that she stood there like a fool as they paraded past her.