Remembrance: Land of Memories: Remembrance, #1

By S.A. Hussey

Everyone has a past, but not everyone has it come back to torment them six hundred years later.

Three lives entwined by vows, magic, and love end in distrust, bitterness, and anger. A spell cast with dying breaths to bring them back to settle their differences, rekindle the power of friendship, and mend a broken heart.

The spell worked.

Six hundred years later, they've been reunited. Can the trio work together to remember and bury the past and change what was, to what might be? Or will they allow the pain of the past to dictate their futures?

They must hurry as the spell didn’t just bring them back. It also brought back their executioner. He knows they are alive and he wants them dead…again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.A. Hussey
• Release date: Jan 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386951742

S.A. Hussey

S. A. Hussey is a freelance writer, author, and published poet.  She writes on occasion for Bluebird Reviews a web-based music review site, and has had two poems published in anthology books.  Stephanie takes part in on-line critique and writers groups. She continues to write and is working on paranormal fantasy for a 2016 release, REMEMBRANCE. S.A. Hussey lives in a small coastal community just north of Boston, Massachusetts, and very close to the witch city of Salem. She has two amazingly beautiful daughters, and a 9 month old cat named Rizzoli who will “cut you” with his love.  She’s a full-time billing manager for a local hospital and when she’s not there she’s writing, reading or listening to music. Ms. Hussey enjoys a good concert and freelances articles/reviews for an amazing fan-based music website, www.BlueBirdReviews.com   She enjoys most genres of music but the blues and classic rock are her favorites, especially Led Zeppelin – they stole her heart and make her soul come alive to dance and write. Reading is her other passion. S.A. Hussey loves escaping into new worlds. Her all-time favorite story is, The Songmaster, by Orson Scott Card. “There’s something in the way he weaved those worlds, and how the characters were brought to life. When I first read it, my 11 year-old mind was enthralled. I wanted to do that. I wanted to create and write, and I did for many years through poems and short stories, stopping only to raise my girls.  Now I’m back, creating worlds and characters of my own and having a blast while doing it.”

Book preview

Special Acknowledgement

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To my younger sister, Sharon.

Thank you for always being there.

I love you.

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"Blessed are Women whose hearts and souls are joined together

by laughter and tears for they shall be known as Sisters." ~ Author Unknown

Special Dedication

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. ~ Chinese Proverb

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Thank you for being a special part of my life and always believing in me.

Because of you, this story ~ as well as others ~ will be told. Forever Owen.

~ Goodnight, Rob.

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Robert W. Zachko

September 27, 1952 - August 2, 2017

Table of Contents

Special Acknowledgement

Special Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue: Chapter 1

Pre-Order: Book 2

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Author Bio:

Copyright

Credits

We stand with our roots in the past, our branches in the future. To grow straight and true we must be nourished by both. Ignore the past, and we may cheat the future; ignore the future, and we may cheat the past. Diminish either, and we cheat the present. Seek, therefore, the balance, so that past and future may live in the present, and the present may be nourished and strengthened by both.

~ Buddhist Mysticism ~

Prologue

Arianwen

They came at dawn. In minutes everything that was – was not.

Fire engulfed my hut. The flames sizzled and hissed, exposing me to its fiery heat. I escape, but not before my skin was ravaged. The pain, intense, as is my need for revenge. The bastard, Camalus, has taken everything I love. With my dying breaths I will see that retribution is made. I am the last of the realm storm witches. We three must come back. It must be done.

With labored breath I look towards the moon hanging low on the eastern horizon. A calm strength fills my being, dulling the pain, leaving me with focus and intent. My voice harsh and raspy as I call out.

"My mother, hear your daughter, Arianwen’s plea.

Take my soul; find the two

~ Sulien and Tarrant ~

Once again, make us three.

Let us all come once more. To right the wrongs

I beseech you, open the portal door.

To Land, Sea and Skye, hear my cry.

As above so below, with my blood sacrifice make it so.

Arianrhod, my mother, my goddess, as one make us three.

I cast my lot, so mote it be."

––––––––

I choke, sputter, I am drowning. I can no longer see my beautiful moon. It’s gone. The glow of a new morning is chasing the night shadows away. Oh, how I hope my goddess will grant my request. To see Sulien and Tarrant once more...my heart beats faster as I see them in my mind’s eye, smiling and laughing. Forever etched into my memory. I will be with them again, someday.

A rustling sound catches my attention. I turn to my weathered, old friends. The trees whisper to one another. I look upon them as a shaft of morning light roves its way through their branches and caresses my face. I blink. The trees shake and leaves begin to fall. A hot salty tear stings my cheek. They cry for me, and I, for them. I wheeze, then cough.

With my last breath I look to the striating beams of light above, and see her there with outstretched arms. Mother. Take me home.

Chapter 1

Arienh Forrest: Current Day

Arienh’s voice screamed loud and long. The wind whipped past, duplicating her cries. Soaring. Searching. But, for what? The air roared in her ears and the mimicking squeals grew fainter as she plummeted into a dark abyss. She sensed the light before she saw it and when she did, her spirit hit her body hard. Gasping she bolted upright. Warm tears trickled out and over her cheeks as she batted at the hands that tried to help her.

The fire...hurt. All of it. It can’t be, Arienh responded in broken bits of murmurings. Trying to make sense of what she was shown. Sulien. Tarrant. Mother. She placed her hands over her eyes as her stomach wrenched into a knot. He killed me. I tried hard and failed.

C’mon now, Davius responded, snapping his fingers by her ear. It’s time to come back.

You don’t understand, Arienh screeched smacking at Davius’ hand. You can’t understand. Owen? Where are you?

Owen moved towards the couch and laid a hand gently upon her shoulder. I’m here, he said softly. It’s alright. Come back slowly.

Arienh blinked her eyes several times as though that might delete the memories. Owen knelt on the floor next to her and she latched tight to him, almost a death grip. He said she’d remember, but she never thought she’d see and feel anything like that. She cried into his shoulder and he patted her back soothingly. My gods. It was awful. He...he, Arienh hiccupped then stopped. The regression worked. She’d seen her other life. A quick flash from the past came rapidly to her mind. Cor, I don’t understand. They swore to protect...our oath. Why?

She began to shake uncontrollably, still reeling from the memories freed from her mind. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Could I have lived that life? It seemed real. Her body ached and something metallic sat on her tongue...blood. Images of their bodies appeared in her minds eyes. Bile rose in her throat. She pulled away from Owen and retched. Closing her eyes, her body slumped over as her spirit spiraled again back into the past.

~ ∞ ~

Arianwen

No! Arianwen shrieked then moaned, Sulien? Please. Oh, gods, no...Please don’t leave me alone. Shattered she tilted her head to his then held his lifeless body and cried until she was numb then shifted his body off hers. Looking at her hands she saw her wrists and the dark ink inscribed into the skin, a part of their initiation binding each of them to one another. She could always feel their energy and now...she felt nothing. Anger filled her being as she stood. Balling her hands into fists she screamed loudly until she could scream no more. She looked at two men lying on the ground. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t supposed to lose them.

In homage the trees began to bend. The winds unleashed their power and wildly whipped through the field, howling loudly in Ari’s ears. They were calling her. Ari tried to run, but the winds were forceful and prevented her from moving.

I cannot follow.

The winds echoed their response. You can, you will, your vow. We are waiting...

Arianwen stood between Sulien and Tarrant’s bodies. In a quandary she didn’t know what to do. From beneath her robe she pulled out her jeweled dagger and fell to her knees. Mother! She looked up to the sky. Help me. Please. Ari placed her head to the earth. As the wind continued to howl around her, she looked up once more. Mother, I have to go. They whisper my name. She held the blade high and the ground rumbled beneath her legs as the winds roared in her ears. Mother. Sulien. Tarrant. I am here, but I do not know what to do. She noticed her blade then, it glistened in the early morning sun. Tarrant and Sulien’s blood dripped down her arms pooling around the inkings on her wrists. Yes, I understand.

Making her decision, she stood. The wind, which had been a maelstrom seconds before, suddenly stopped; all was quiet. Ari held the blade aloft, and into the still air said, Mother, forgive me.

Never, a voice bellowed in her ear as strong hands grasped hers from behind forcing her to drop the blade and making her scream, only this time in fear.

~ ∞ ~

Arienh bolted upright and gasped. A quick look around eased her worries as she rested her head back onto her pillow. ’The Welsh never forget.’ That’s what Owen always says. But, going back in time. Reincarnation...’tis crazy.

Owen and Davius, said it was possible. But then, they are druids. They believe in reincarnation along with the idea we carry our past identities with us. That they’re locked up inside our memory. All one has to do is turn a skeletal key.

And, that’s what I did. Turned the key. There had been no choice in the matter. Something. A force of sorts, loomed here in the castle and it centered on me, Arienh Forrest. It started that fateful day my car broke down while driving through the coastal town of Averswyth. Having to wait for a part forced me to spend a night in the local B&B and a nice jaunt up the foothills of Thunder Mountain.

There was something about the land I walking. It called out to me. From the forest to the ocean I spied from the high cliffs – everything felt right. I sensed a belonging. Of being home. I’d been awestruck when I came upon the stone walls of an old castle. Finding an old door left ajar and the place empty, I was giddy with excitement running around the place like I owned it. Every stairwell, stone corridor, and empty room in the old fortress yelled, ‘welcome back’. The oddest sensation of feeling like I’d been there before, when I knew I hadn’t. The for sale sign hammered into the ground...well, buying the broken, war-torn casualty of a castle felt right. Money from an inheritance along with wise investments helped me become the proud owner of castle Mynnyd Taranu.

Having a place all of my own felt wonderfully divine. It hadn’t been long after I moved in that the dreams started. It freaked me out. After one long night of horrendous visions I confessed to Owen about the experiences I was having. Owen wasn’t only the castle’s caretaker, but an old family friend. I trusted him and his judgement. But, when he responded with a reincarnation theory. I outright laughed. Reincarnation. Really? He was serious and suggested I talk with his friend, Davius, a renowned psychic who dealt solely in past life regressions. He would be able to help me find out what the dreams and coincidences were about? I had shaken my head in disbelief. The notion that Davius could tell me anything about a past life, seemed ridiculous at the time. I believed in reincarnation. I did. What I didn’t believe was that Davius could unlock a part of my mind so that I could regress back in time.

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to succumb to the regression, let alone learn that I’d been a powerful witch and part of the legend of the three in old Welsh lore. With Davius’ guidance, my journey had been quite vivid. Churning up deep emotions for people long forgotten, in a time that no longer existed. Davius opened my locked door and said the dreams and déjà vu moments would continue, become clearer, and to let them come. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to. Perhaps, the past was better off where it was. Maybe, I made a mistake buying Mynnyd Taranu. It was all too late now, the door to the past was now wide open.

Rolling over I fluffed my pillow and shivered. I remembered the spell Arianwen had spoken and it now appeared to be coming to light. Perhaps the auld gods finally deemed it time. And, that scared the bejeezus out of me. Arianwen had made some mistakes in that spell. If now was the time then what I needed was help. Serious help.

~ ∞ ~

Something called out to me in the pre-dawn hour. It was crazy. Ludicrous almost. I awoke from a dream only to find myself half awake and stumbling around in the woods. I’d been here before. I knew I had.

The birds chirped louder, the crickets kept a steady rhythm as soft winds blew through the forest creating a rustling sound. The woods were ripe with musical magic, all you had to do was stop and listen. And, buried underneath all the woodland sounds, you could hear it - a soft hum - it was the energy of the land. This is what had called out to me. This is why I stood barefoot in the wet grass searching for the place.

Had it not been for a pesky raven and its interminable caw I wouldn’t have found the correct spot to go too. It was like in the dream. Only, in that vision, I was younger, had red hair, and strode through these woods with purpose. The girl in the dream knew where to go and what she was about to do. I didn’t.

I looked around the tiny clearing and in the dim morning light could not find what it was the young girl had placed her hands on. All I saw was overgrown brush and cascades of morning glories, jasmine, and trumpet vines. The smell of heady woods and sweet floral was intoxicating and beautiful to look at, but I was quite sure this was not what I was brought here for.

A stream of early light slashed through the trees, illuminating an area of the clearing in a soft glow. Before I even took a step a buzzing sound played near my ears. I stood quite still. Fire crests. Three of them. The lime green birds with fiery mohawks darted around the clearing in playful ease. A couple of times they even perched on me, only to take off again. What magic was this, I wondered grinning at the frisky animals?

Mesmerized, I watched as they flit here and there, until my magical reverie was shaken by the shrieking caw of the returning raven. It appeared to me to be perched on the vines, but yet...no, it had found something else to sit on. The ebony bird continued its unrelenting caw until I made a move towards it, then it stopped and watched me, its black orbs following my every move. Waving my hands wildly, I shooed it away, but slipped on the dew filled grass; my hand reached out, grasping something hard which kept me from falling.

My heart beat faster as my hand moved over the hard, rough surface. Was this it? Could it be? I tugged and moved the endless flowering vines that had latched onto the stone, and sure enough it was here, intact. Putting a hand up to cover my gaping mouth, I stood staring at the object. Bemused I shook my head. Impossible. Once again, as Davius had said it would, a vision had come to life.

As the girl had done earlier in my dream, I moved closer but did not gaze into it. I peeked, afraid of what I would see. Though, I realized soon enough that all was not as it was in dreams.

The stone basin, carved with glyphs and etched runes, probably served a magical purpose once, but right now it was nothing more than a catch-all for twigs, leaves, feathers, and home to some creepy crawlies. I ran my fingers over the runic symbols and shivered as a cool wind chilled me.

It looked like a larger version of the scrying bowls I’d seen at a medieval fair. The proprietor, pushing for a sale, told me more than I needed to know about the practice, which boiled down to scrying required patience. However, this bowl lacked the one thing that was necessary to make it work...water.

Intuition told me that nobody hauled the water here from the nearest stream, which was a twenty minute hike down a rocky hill through the woods. Looking around for a source, I bet an underground stream once flowed here and it was blocked or dried up. Scooping out the debris in and around the deep bowl, I felt for dampness. It was dry as a bone. With a glance around and above the basin my eyes spied a small stone spigot somewhat hidden by moss. I clawed the debris, and saw a rock jammed tight in the opening. With some ingenuity, elbow grease, and time I managed to pry it free and a trickle of water began to flow.

As it filled I wondered what this scrying bowl might show me, provided it showed me anything. In my dream I hadn’t cast any spell, and most definitely no ritual had taken place. Or had it? Is this what witches did? I wasn’t sure. Owen and Davius said, ‘go with the flow; anything that happens, whether through dreams or déjà vu moments, let it come. It will feel natural.’ Yeah, o.k. right. Like peering into a basin of water to see if scenes of your past life show up in it, is natural.

As the water grew deeper I cleaned off more of the basin. Is this what I did in my past life? Did I come here, fill up the bowl and wait? It was the strangest feeling to know you lived hundreds of years before, were reborn, and came back to the same place. Talk about coming full circle, I thought. It wasn’t like I was clueless when it came to the arcane.

Religions have always fascinated me, and I’d studied quite a few, but never followed any one particular path. I found most religions talked of reincarnation, karma, souls, the Akashic records, and found them all very interesting, but I hadn’t given it much further thought or credence.

By no means was I a skeptic. In my travels I’d seen, heard and read things...magic was real and not something one trifled with unless you knew what you were doing? I stared at the etched stone before me. So what was I doing?

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath. An image of two men from the past, Sulien and Tarrant, came into my mind’s eye, both smiling and laughing - friends. I breathed a soft sigh filled with sadness as I remembered how much I had loved them both. My heart felt as if a heavy weight had been placed on it. It should never have ended the way it did.

Try as I might I couldn’t shake the remembrance of what had happened. My hands trembled as the buried memory tried to rear its ugly head. A metallic tang of freshly spilled blood overrode the scent of flowers. No, I don’t want to see. Please.

The image of two dead bodies lying side by side in a puddle of blood appeared in my mind. I blinked, trying hard to clear the vision, but it was the scent I smelled - their blood – it clung to me. I gagged but didn’t vomit, even though my body wanted to. I remembered, but dammit, I wanted to forget. And, it would never be possible, not with my aural eidetic memory. Having a photographic and recorder memory was one of the reasons I didn’t want to do the regression. Everything I saw and heard stayed with me.

As a musician the gift was fantastic, but with everyday life, it made it hard. When people said, ‘time heals all wounds’, I knew it never would. I learned at an early age to adapt, though sometimes it was hard to shut the drawers on the things I didn’t want to remember, like this particular image of the men. I attempted to shrug it off and looked into the water filled basin, hoping its soothing sound and clean clarity would send the images away.

After the regression I talked with Owen. He hadn’t said right away, ‘I told you so’, but knew eventually it would come. God, I hated when he was right. When Owen and I spoke in more detail about the regression he said it was validation for everything that had happened to me since coming to Wales, right down to my name being almost the same as the young girl, Arianwen. Validation? Who wanted validation? Not me.

Absently, I ran a finger through the water, ruffling the surface, the ripples bouncing off the edges and multiplying into complex patterns. My image reflected back and I brushed it away with my hand sending water over the edges. A slight breeze shifted my hair and a familiar hum was at my ears. The fire crests flew towards the bowl and stayed above the water’s surface. I smiled. When they took off small ripples scattered my features across the surface. When it stopped, my hand went to my mouth in shocked amazement. In the water was a face, but