A NOTE ON THE TEXTS

A NOTE ON THE TEXT

The names and places used are completely fictional and in no matter apply to real life scenarios; any form of description, place and property is completely coincidental. The novel is an idea and shall not be pressed upon human substitutes; do not copy any actions or stunts as they may lead to harmful injuries.
Thank You!


These are the names, how to pronounce them and the meaning of each name:

Name: Izrael
Pronunciation: Azh-rah-eeal like Azrael.
Name meaning: Angel of death.

Name: Ren
Pronunciation: -
Name meaning: Water.

Name: Mu'aqquibat.
Pronunciation: Mueh-aki-bat.
Name meaning: The protector from death.

Name: Darda'il.
Pronunciation: Dhar-da-eal.
Name meaning: The Journey Guardian.

Name: Maalik.
Pronunciation: Maa-lick
Name meaning: Guardian of the gates of Hell.

Name: Mikail
Pronunciation: Micah-eel.
Name meaning: Guardian Angel of rain, thunder and lightning.

Name: Israafiyl
Pronunciation: Isra-feel
Name meaning: The trumpet blower at the end of times.


Name: Ulrika.
Pronunciation: Ool-ree-ka.
Name meaning: Power.

Name: Concetta.
Pronunciation: Con-sett-ah.
Name meaning: Imagine.

Name: Anahita.
Pronunciation: Anna-heat-ah.
Name meaning: Immaculate, Goddess of water.

Name: Okra Iskar
Pronunciation: (Okra rhymes with opera) Is-khar
Name meaning: Healthy

“Each new generation is a fresh invasion of savages!”

Harvey Allen

 

PROLOGUE

This book is dedicated to my friends at Jiggmin Village, and a note to Mr. Cuddles, may you forever remain silly!





A young girl sat on the edge of the well, staring into the deep waters that had once come rushing all around her during the fight of Arabia against Persia a year back. The water shimmered and she wished it had swallowed her then, she wished it swallowed her now.
Anahita Meerad always wished for an exciting phenomenon to occur during her lifetime, the death of her parents was not what she had expected.
Persia was warm and unhealthy in the early days of 1700, the moon high in the sky, shining nothing but pale lightings from the dead heaven above.
How many sinners were up there?
How many people screaming in their graves? Yet we are deaf to their pleads and roars for forgiveness, maybe God has made life that way, maybe that was why life was given to people. To ask for forgiveness, to be forgiven, to be unmistaken.
Anahita swallowed, eyes scanning the water in the well, clear and clean and untouched.
Sighing she turned, the rocky road under her feet was damp and wet from days old rain. The small houses around her were dark and silent in this eerie night, everyone asleep, just her awake. Anahita wondered sometimes why night was the quiet one and why day was the loud one, maybe the grave was the same, then- but that would ruin the process of the dead. The graves were loud and deafening. Stories around the Castle walls told tales about two angels with blue eyes swarming into the grave of the dead straight after they are buried; words said they ask questions about religion, family and deeds. Of course Anahita had not listened to the full story, it had petrified her.
Footsteps made the girl freeze, who would be out this time of night? When the moon was full and silence was illuminating?
“Anahita?” a small voice called.
Anahita cast her dark eyes upwards and smiled shakily at the chubby girl standing before her.
“Anahita, are you alright?”
Anahita nodded, “yes, I am fine. You need not worry about me. Why are you here, Rose?”
Rose, with her pale hair and blue eyes shrugged. Her white gown plain and torn, muddy and mucky. She was a guard slave; she fed the Castle guards and washed their rooms. Anahita on the other hand was Queen Concetta’s head slave, with lilac gowns and white pointy shoes. The Queen was not a likeable lady, she was mean and violent, no children. She even got her husband killed so that she could rein before he took charge.
“Ali sent me,” Rose sniffed the warm air. “He said you need to arrive at the Castle immediately, the Queen needs to talk to the head slaves.”
The word made Anahita cringe, the hairs at the back of her neck stand.
Whenever the Queen wanted the slave meeting, she would get them all beat, whipped to ribbons and cut to shreds. The last time Anahita had had a beating was two sunsets ago, it was not a pleasant one. Marks remained on her olive skin, a lash on her right cheek dark and visible from miles.
She stood, “thank you for informing me.”
Rose left without another word, her footsteps soft on the dirty earth. Anahita stood and turned to look over the hills at the Castle, she could see the torches flicking and flaring. Calls from the guards broke the night silence, a soft bell rang and Anahita knew that it was for her crew.
She began to walk quickly; other servants of the Queen exited their homes and nodded to her silently, their faces ashen and hair scruffy from sleep. Some yawned but shook some life into themselves, not wanting to look too dirty in front of the Queen. Together they made their way up the hill; the steps were invisible in the night, a couple of slaves slipped and cried out in pain. Grunts from above forced them up quicker, being late to see the Queen would lead to a brutal punishment.
They reached the top of the steps and ugly looking guards with red uniform scowled like they were the ultimate cleanliness of Persia, beards tangled with their armour over their chests, shields gripped tightly to their side, sword out and ready like the enemy was just spitting distance.
“In,” they snorted.
Anahita and the others stepped in; the heat of the candlelight’s in the brackets illuminated the grand hallways. Silver doors on either side of the hallway led to bedrooms of high visitors or the Queens relatives who obviously would never rein. The floors shimmered like glitter; Anahita looked back a few times to check if anyone had brought their dirty shoes with them, no one wore mucky shoes. If the floor had been damaged, the Queen would have given another beating upon another.
The signs led them easily into the charming and cool Theatre Room where the Queen Concetta herself half lay in her lounge chair. The whiteness of her silk gown dropped down over the chair and onto the marble floor, guards stood stiff like boulders around the room, the silence engulfed the Castle, a hawk caught in a kill. The frozen Queen waved a hand and the double doors slammed shut, making the servants jump in shock.
The Queen laughed hysterically, “what little rats. Are you not? Ragged insects, homeless dogs, poor cats, dirty horses. Is there anything you can wear that at least shows you have some honour for me?”
She stood like a stick and made down the five steps, she was tall; maybe her legs gave her the tree like impression. Anahita stood up straighter as the Queen Concetta glided forwards, with her train sweeping the floors behind her, she was almost flying. The Queen did not like Anahita; every other Persian had light brown hair and blue eyes, Anahita had silk black hair and coffee brown eyes. She had always been cast an outsider, but the servants did not speak to each other in such insolence. Her name was Persian, but that was the only defence she had. Anahita was small in height and skinny; the Persians were tall and chubby, that was also an extra two reasons given to the Queen not to like her.
“Why isn’t the kitchen clean?”
Anahita blinked; the kitchen? They had left the kitchen clean and tidy this evening after serving dinner. This was impossible, she was the last one to exit and everything had been spotless. It was impossible, no one could ever enter the kitchen, and Anahita had the keys on her. She reached into her pocket and felt the small coldness of the key, sighing with relief she almost stumbled but Ali reached over and steadied her. He was shaking; a massive man like him was shaking.
“Come on,” the Queen’s face was kind as she passed the row of half-asleep servants. “Own up, children. Who did it?”
Someone mumbled and the Queen spun on them, her fingers twitching, the diamond rings sparkling as the candlelight’s reflected on them. Anahita closed her eyes and inhaled.
“What did you say?” Queen Concetta grinned, her white teeth flashing.
“We left your majesty, straight after serving dinner,” it was Havana trying to save herself once again. “We all left.”
“Then who did it?”
Havana slid her bright blue eyes towards Anahita and Anahita clenched her little fists, even though her eyes were drawn shut she knew what was happening.
“It was Anahita, your majesty, she locks up.”
The Queen turned to Anahita, and Anahita opened her eyes. The Queen stood before the small girl and grinned. Her cheeks were high and bubbly, her thin lips slapped with blood colouring, eyes made up with liquids and other royal dressings. The Queen licked her lips, raised an arm like she was about to slap someone and bent two fingers in a come-here motion. Two guards came forward with sticks and whips in both hands.
“Beat her bloody,” Queen Concetta snarled and turned back to her chair to watch the show. “Then make her sweep the blood, and then clean the kitchen, tonight.”
The guards grinned, and Anahita screamed as one lash came snapping down.

ONE

THE wounds were torn, blood leaked from them like an open tap. Anahita had just finished cleaning up the Theatre Room and dragged herself into the kitchen, taking her time on the stairs; her feet were saved but were shaking in their shoes. The aftershocks of the whips and sticks still buzzed her bones, the hooks still stung, the punches and kicks ached. She walked past guards who giggled their appreciation, some tripped her over, but she got to her feet and managed to dodge the others with much effort.
The kitchen was a mess, dishes everywhere, food scattered on the floor, bananas smudged over the worktops and everything was just dirty. The clay pots were broken, a billions pieces over the far corner, Anahita whimpered like a lost pup.
Havana came in, looking a little lost, looking like she was nothing but a casual Castle maid. She saw the state of Anahita and cringed, her pale lips in a thin straight line.
“Dear me,” she said smugly. “I told you so many times, little one, that cleaning up and locking up are the best and easiest effortless jobs around here.”
Anahita clenched her half broken jaw, “you have no right to be here. Get out and let me clean, you’ve lied enough.”
Havana grinned, her eyes tracing the open wounds on Anahita’s hands and half bare legs. The ugly bruise on her forehead was last to be examined, Anahita shook her head and her black hair slid forward, covering her swollen right eye. There was no more blood, but there was plenty of dirt to clean up.
“I know,” Havana examined her nails.
Havana never got a beating, she was beautiful and intelligent, she knew her role well, and that is why the Queen liked her. Believed her.
“Then go,” Anahita growled, making Havana raise a brow.
The lights were out; the moonlight was the only thing pouring shadows over the walls.
Havana barked a laugh, and then clapped a hand over her mouth, pointing a finger towards the door. “I don’t want a guard thinking that we’re having fun, they might beat me bloody.”
“When-” Anahita steadied herself on the wooden table which they used to chop meats and roll pastries. “Was the last time you were beat bloody?”
Havana’s mouth dropped, her featured flexed and she placed both hands on her hips, shaking her head sadly.
“Never,” it was an obvious answer, Anahita knew it. “Never ever beat bloody, they wouldn’t touch me. Ever!”
Anahita snarled and Havana giggled silently, and then slipped out of the kitchen, leaving it echoing silence, like the Dry Lands.
Anahita moved slowly, looking at the wrecked kitchen again, the crooked knives and the bent spoons. Someone must have taken their time to ruin this place, someone that was linked to- Havana.
Havana must have done something, if she doesn’t get beat then she doesn’t get blames, she gets away with the upmost dangerous activities.
Blinking her loneliness away, Anahita grabbed the cloth and wiped away the spilt juices. The spillages on the floors were much easier to handle, the mops sucked in most of the dirtiness, saved Anahita going on her knees and scrubbing the floor spotless. She moved along the kitchen, picking up skins and seeds, meats and other fresh foods. The tables were soon clean, and then she moved to the walls, someone had professional instincts to mess the place up with desserts, the apple pies they had served the Castle members were smudged everywhere. Anahita swallowed. She rinsed out the mop and raised it to the wall; she scrubbed the first two walls clean and then, a shadow reflected on the other.
Havana must be back, Anahita exhaled loudly.
She turned and raised the mop, mouth half open to announce a large curse, but she stopped. This wasn’t Havana; this was someone else, a tall strong figure in silver armour, not a Castle guard. He had bright blue eyes but sin black hair, the Persian eyes and the Arabian hair. He was what they called: half cast.
Anahita saw his tight features, the square of his jaw, just like hers, the slimness of his cheeks, just like hers. He was just like her, if only he had brown eyes.
“Who,” she stuttered. “W-who are you?”
There was no reply at first, then the man raised a bruised hand and rubbed his bleeding forehead which was covered with a lock of hair that fell into his eyes. Anahita cringed, his state was like hers.
“I-” his accent was firmly put. “I don’t know.”
Anahita held the mop tighter, crunched to her sore chest. He did not know who he was, that was a question she should have asked herself a few moments ago, but this man, who looked very sane didn’t know who he was? There had to be something wrong with him, something that didn’t quite get him to answer her formal question correctly.
“You don’t know?” she asked nervously.
He looked up at her, blue eyes almost white in this moonlight. He didn’t look harmful, but did indeed look harmed. He stood there for a few moments, making odd growling sounds, and then soon he stood straighter. His backbone cracked and he gasped, smiled at what was like himself and sat down on the table. Anahita struggled to form direct thoughts. Maybe he was a guard, beaten bloody because he didn’t do his job right, or maybe he was just another person who illegally entered the Castle walls.
“I don’t,” he nodded sadly, long legs dangling from the edge of the table.
Anahita leaned closer; he did not look much older than her, his solemn face showed courage and power, yet she sensed danger and damn.
“How?” her talking to men was one lesson she was taught by her parents long ago, they told her men were ruthless and savage creatures. But Anahita knew they were partly right, her father was neither a bad man like her mother had explained about others. It did not seem fair enough.
“You talk way too much, child.” He sighed irritably and cringed at her lost face. “By the name of Mu'aqquibat, what happened to you?”
Anahita looked baffled, then realised that she herself was also torn and bruised. “Me?”
“Don’t you know you?” he rolled his eyes painlessly.
Anahita set the mop down, “I do indeed. I was- never that mind you. I do not know you, you need not know about me.”
He got up from the table and Anahita saw that he wore a cloak of silk black, his hair just stopping under his ears in wavy curls. She almost tripped when she saw the sword and daggers strapped to his back and chest. He had to be a guard, ready to beat her for speaking like such a pathetic child. Anahita cursed herself, and cursed him too for disturbing her quiet cleaning.
“I buy maids,” he said instead of beating her, Anahita looked surprised.
“The maids are down the corridor, to the left-”
“Special maids,” he interrupted with a sniff.
Anahita frowned, “special? All the maids here are little creatures of evil and-”
“You,” he sounded almost angry, but not quite. “You’re a maid, guard servant be or the Queens servant, you are a maid none the less. You, I want to buy you, a sharp tongue is most necessary in my kingdom.”
Anahita froze, he was a king? But this was impossible.
Where were his guards? He needed them for safety; she would have attacked him with that mop for all she knew.
“Your, kingdom?”
“Yes,” he checked his hands again and sniffed although crying. “Well, not my kingdom. I’m from Arabia, travel to buy maids. You look fit for the job, now...”
He looked her up and down and grinned, “A little too thin, but we can sort that out sometime soon.”
Anahita blushed angrily, “I don’t know. I have been in Persia for most of my life, since my parents-” she stopped herself again.
He looked at her again, like he knew something, and then motioned her towards the door. She did not move, she stood there like a statue and watched him peek out the door.
Who was this man? Why was he buying maids? She knew he was no longer a King, but just an ordinary person, or maybe a guard.
“Come on child,” he turned back, hissing through his reddened teeth. “We have no time.”
Anahita was utterly confused; she looked around the kitchen and frowned. Who would clean up the mess? Havana? No, it would most likely be Ali, Queen Concetta hated him too, and he always saved Anahita from more punishments. It had to be him; he would come up here wounded like a cat and clean up the mess Havana had planned to make. Anahita could not imagine Ali getting beat, he would most likely die.
“We can get that sorted,” he frowned. “Come on, trust me, I will get someone to clean it up.”
When she didn’t move, he came to her slowly, watching her breathing hard, examining her sore legs. She could have hardly made a run if she needed to, she couldn’t have outrun a tortoise. He gently but firmly took her by the wrist, she snarled and shook him off, jumping awkwardly and landing painfully on the tiled floor. He jumped back in shock, but it was all too soon because as soon as she landed on the floor, a foot snapped back and she cried aloud.
He swivelled to the door and unleashed his sword just as guards pounded in, the man leaped forward and struck the nearest guard in the chest, without a sound he spun again and chopped off the others hands. They each gasped but did not roar in pain; instead they kicked the man in the stomach and barked curses.
Anahita struggled to stand, her whole body sweaty and sticky, she watched the fight with both eyes glued to the men. Her mind on the other hand was focusing on the broken foot, she tried her hardest not to bend it or flick it or dangle it, but whatever she did; it still did all those things.
The man came flying over the tables and landed by her feet, in surprise Anahita toppled backwards and yelped. She could see no more guards, but the ceiling instead. The man sprang up and grabbed her around the waist, hiked her over his right shoulder and pushed his arm out like he was opening a door, Anahita did not see what was happening but heard a glass break. Then the man jumped. No surprise that he jumped straight through the window, the last thing Anahita saw of the kitchen was another two guards running towards them.
The descend was deafening, Anahita could not scream, the wind whipped at her wounds and images of the beating flashed behind her watery eyes. The way Havana’s eyes widened when the blood sprang up like a fountain, the way Ali covered his eyes and prayed to God. The way the other servants turned and left without a word, it was all a work of evil. No one to stop her, not even her best friends, and this man was saving her from it. Maybe where he was going to take her would be softer, kinder, and safer.
They landed softly, but Anahita was not allowed to put her feet on the ground, looking around from over his shoulders she realised that they had jumped the three mile fall from the Castle back, they were outside the gates. Free from the horrible guards, the tormenting Queen Concetta and into the real world. Out there.
Where Anahita’s parents died.
“We do not stop,” the man said without sounding out of breath. “I do not stop.”
He laughed sourly, and then said: “What is your name?”
Anahita hesitated, and then blinked, she might as well tell. There was not point hiding, he would call her ‘child’ like he had several times in the kitchen.
“Anahita Meerad.”
He nodded, voice a whisper, “Ren Talon.”

TWO

REN ran fast, so fast that everything looked like a hazy blur to Anahita. The woods that surrounded the Castle and the lands were thick and extremely clean. No leaves on the floors and no animal mess. The mud was cleaner than it had been inside the Castle walls, sprinklers tended to muck it all up, just to simply make fun of people if they tripped over it. Anahita had been the victim a few times; it had not been a steady fall to the dirt.
Ren ran on for a long, long time, his legs as Anahita glimpsed were mostly invisible. It was funny, seeing him run this fast, seeing someone so different from you. He had been different from the moment she saw him, something odd in him, a sense of change and danger. At the same time, she had also sensed a bit of understanding, a bit of hope. Those feelings, she would never tell him. He was a stranger, and always will be.
Hours later, they stopped, the heat of the night almost over, the rays of sunlight pouring through the tree tops. Ren lowered Anahita carefully onto the ground, making sure the ground was steady, she leaned her back against the tree trunk. The bark poked in around her back, but she did not care, she just wanted some rest. She silently watched him work on fixing his boots, they were knee length and had to be done up with weird elastic things.
He caught her staring and angled his head to the right, “these are laces. They are handy for tying things; I take it you have never been introduced to them?”
Anahita’s jaw collapsed when she opened her mouth, her eyes half closed, she knew she almost looked drunk. Drunk. Images of the guards appeared everywhere and she almost fell, Ren came forward and steadied her by the shoulders.
“You must rest,” he looked concerned with his brows furrowed. “I see the state you are in is not good, we would have to start travel at mid-day.”
“Where are we going?” she whispered, her voice cracking like the dawn.
He sat back on his heels, cloak draped far behind him. “Safe places,” she relaxed. “A nice safe place, warm where we, I mean I like to be. It’s called home, child.”
“Anahita,” she snapped, although her jaw half hung. “I told you my name so you would use it.”
He jerked back and rolled over, coming on his feet almost instantly. “Sorry, Anahita. You must rest; I shall see what I can do about your injuries.”
Feeling satisfied but still query, Anahita closed her eyes and went to a long fitful sleep. She saw nothing in particular, just dark skies like in Persia, muddy roads and icky houses. She saw little footsteps on the rocky road, a shoe lying a few feet away. A little white shoe that she recognised as the Queens servants, purple pointed. Anahita looked down; her right foot was bare, her shoe lying in the middle of the road.
Why?
She made forward curiously, slowly. There was no one about, the well just behind her. The city was dead, silent as the graves. Maybe not so silent, maybe the grave was deafening like she had told herself the last time she was by the well. But that had been a thought, who knows if the grave was loud or quiet?
Persia, dead or alive, was dead anyway, like it always had been.
She reached her shoe and picked it up, it looked brand new, compared to her left shoe which was dirty and broke. She put her shoe on, and the life she had just experienced vanished from her head, people appeared in the dark night, crying and running. Swords clashing somewhere and Queen Concetta herself grinning madly, striding straight forwards, towards-

“Anahita,” someone was shaking her softly. “Anahita,” it said again.
Anahita flicked open her eyes and sat up straighter, the sun was high up, she must have slept till the skies went a pretty blue. Ren’s face was brightly lit, his hair was plastered to his scalp, and he smelt like fishes. Anahita wiped her nose and stopped, her hand was a light caramel colour, the colour of the Arabian people. It was clean, fresh of marks and cuts.
She felt around her face, no marks, her legs which were outstretched before her were good as new.
“What?” she asked; totally confused.
Ren stood up straight and looked through the trees, “I did what I could to cure you. The wounds would have opened up again slowly, gradually; it would have caused mayhem. I used fish to rub the wounds shut, they’re gone now. Some are still left on your back, but I did not see. I sensed your wounds and healed what was visible.”
Anahita exhaled, “thank you.”
He almost smiled, “your face was the hardest. The black eye was difficult to inflate. I did not want to seal it; the mark on your cheek will not go. For some bizarre reason.”
She wondered why, but could not think of a valuable answer. That mark had come from Queen Concetta’s sword, the one she used to slash Anahita’s face simply because the Royal Shoes had arrived late. There was nothing special about that sword, but the mark would not go, not even since it happened three sunsets ago.
He looked back at her, his eyes most likely white now. “We must move, you look much more alive than you did at dawn.”
Anahita, scowling like an angry guard, stood up on shaky legs. Not using them half way through the night, and almost halfway through the next day was supposed to stiffen them, they snapped into shape and she hissed.
“Saves me carrying a load,” he grinned. “We should probably walk fast, I think a little after mid-day we will be at some safe home.”
Anahita stepped forward and found her pace, she followed him for a few minutes and then- her stomach moaned. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday lunch; her sides had sucked themselves in, the dress following her thin shape. Ren spun; the bag she had not noticed last night on his shoulders almost hit her in the face. He raised a sin brow, grinning again.
“Hungry I guess?”
Her stomach made a loud growl and he laughed, he crouched down and opened his bag, took a few breads out and handed them to her. They looked and smelt good to eat, as Anahita bit in she realised that her lower lip had burst open, hurriedly she pulled the bread away and moaned. Fresh blood stained the cream softness of the good smelling wheat. Ren sighed with disgust.
“OK,” he shot both brows up. “Looks like we are going to have a problem, either you eat the bread or you starve and walk beside me.”
Anahita blinked, “excuse me? You want me to eat bread with blood on it?”
He stood and turned, “yes. If it keeps you alive.”
Scowling she trotted after him, their surroundings were beautiful. Tall trees reflected green onto the already green ground, the grass was soft under her feet and not a single crunch was heard. This was the Charm Forest, nothing died and nothing fell, everything remained how it was all year round, forever.
Ren led her deeper into the brighter depths, she kept her eyes on the back of his head. The cloak he wore dipped into the ground and out again like a hand in and out of water, she frowned at the ground. Was his cloak special?
He came to an abrupt halt and sniffed the air like a dog, then turned to her.
Anahita smacked into him and cursed; she turned unwillingly and found nothing, sighing with relief she turned back to him and almost jumped out of her skin. He stood before her with a look of confusion and worry, his eyebrows slightly down and eyes wide open. She could smell the metal of his armour and the fish from his skin, she almost screamed for a bite of tuna.
“What is it?” she asked.
He was looking over her shoulder, hands at his sides almost restlessly. “Hold on.”
She frowned, “to what?”
“Me.”
Looking back she saw nothing, “what are you looking-”
“Anahita,” he whispered and she turned back with a frown. “I said hold on, now.”
Then she heard it, smelt it. Thuds like an axe against a large tree, something crashing through the brightness, the smell of animal waste and sweat. The sounds and smell grew closer and Ren almost drew his sword when Anahita felt the air shift and leaped forward, swinging her arms around Ren’s neck. He cursed and hauled her up, turned from what was behind her and ran. Anahita’s chin bumped on his back, she forced herself to look up and blinked in utter horror.
Chasing them was the monster she had only heard about in stories; it was as tall as the trees, with a black cloak and hood that covered its head and face. Anahita saw no feet; her eyes were now glued to the staff it held in its right hand. The top of the staff had a crescent shaped blade, the tip looked extremely sharp, able to slice through flesh and bones like a knife through cucumber, it was her nightmare monster. The evil part of the Charm Forest, the one that fed on the magic of this place and repaid it with murdering animals and people.
Black Spectre twisted its staff and jammed it towards them; Anahita screamed and shut her eyes. Ren swung them off course and darted through the trees, his spare hand lifting when he jumped and then swinging backwards. The ground lifted and whipped behind them, straight into the Spectre. Anahita watched it stagger back, leaning over, it looked up at them and then gave chase at a high speed. I used the staff to haul itself up and leaped, Ren hissed and pulled to a stop as the Spectre flew from above them and landed a few feet ahead. From this nearness, Anahita saw the shimmer of the blackness they wore, it was like crashing dark waves in the mid of night.
Ren reared back and they came back the way they came from, the Spectre once again right at their heels, it made a horrible grumbling sound; and threw the Spectre.
Ren ran a few more large steps and jumped. The jump took Anahita and the Black Spectre by surprise, she gasped and it snarled. Ren released one hand from around Anahita and pushed; the air folded in on itself and revealed a silvery white gateway in mid-air. He went right through it and spun, the gateway closed instantly, leaving the Black Spectre in confusion and loss.
Anahita shook her head and moaned; Ren set foot on the ground and let her put her feet down. She did so and a tender featheriness set her alight, she grabbed his arm for support.
“Goodness,” she breathed. “What was that?”
“Black Spectre,” he replied, frowning at her state. “The hunter and killer of billions, it lives in the Charm Forest, I think it was following us for a very long time.”
Anahita blinked, “that is impossible. You only just realised there was something behind us, you could have known a long time ago.”
He rubbed his chin and moved away, hauling his sack over his shoulder. Anahita glared at it. It looked so familiar, something that made her want to snatch it off him and take it back. Like it was hers, her sack. She didn’t, she didn’t take it from him. Instead she looked around; they were no longer in the Charm Forest but in a village. Little houses built of strong stones stood alight in the sunshine, children ran and sang, some saw them and gasped.
“Ren!” a little girl at the age of five screamed, she let go of her friends and pounded towards him.
“Greetings Lara,” he replied and grunted to her furious hug.
Lara, the girl with blue eyes and pale hair stood back and examined Anahita. She almost snarled, but Ren said:
“Lara, this is Anahita, she is a maid of the Queen Concetta.”
Lara pinched her nose, “you are very pretty, but we do not take others in our land kindly.”
Ren snapped his head towards the girl, “Lara! Go and get your mother at once!”
Lara, who narrowed her eyes at Anahita, obeyed him shortly and went into a small hut. Her shouting was heard, and mothers ran out, took their kids and went home although in a rush. Ren turned to Anahita.
“Sorry about that,” he also pinched his nose. “Lara comes from a strict family, they don’t take Arabians kindly.”
Anahita rolled her eyes, “you are Arabian.”
This made him grin and nod, “so you have worked me out. I tend to work around telling people that I have coloured my hair, and that I am Persian. Cleaver you, Anahita.”
She almost slapped him, “you are afraid of who you are?”
“No,” he looked back to the hut Lara had ran into. “I have to lie to get around, buying maids for Arabia is hard, and I have changed my name on many journeys. I decided to keep my real name this time round. This village knows me by name, so I need not worry about my safety.”
The wooden door to the hut opened and Lara pointed towards them, a bulky lady came out with a sombre pretty face. Her features were like Lara’s, definitely her mother. She wore a lime coloured gown that hung loosely around her round frame; her hair was set in a tight bun that made her forehead look enormous.
She regarded Ren thoughtfully and then, sourly examined Anahita from head to toe, taking the longest time in the world. Anahita stiffened and looked towards Ren who shrugged lazily, the strain in his voice was heard clearly when he coughed and spoke.
“Aunt Okra Iskar, this is Anahita Meerad. She’s with me, a maid I am taking back to Arabia.”
Okra Iskar, her hazy blue devil like eyes sharpened. “Are you a servant of Queen Concetta?”
Anahita nodded.
“Do you not have voice, little one?”
“Yes,” Anahita took an instant dislike to the lady.
Okra bit her lower lip and leaned forward, the smell of fresh wine cursed though Anahita’s body like poison. The sweat on Okra’s brow was visible, thick trickles just under her nose; her throat was almost choked with the amount of necklaces she wore.
“Interesting,” Okra blinked. “You hold something special, but you are dangerous. Very dangerous, I now understand why Ren has chosen you.”
Ren raised a brow but said nothing; Okra turned and waved a hand, “follow me. I think you two might need a stay; you are not welcome in my house Anahita Meerad. Ren is most appreciated.”
Ren stopped, “I wish to stay with Anahita, keep an eye out for her.”
Okra grinned wildly, “As you wish, warrior.”
The fat lady went in, sounds of dishes and voices rippled along the walls and out the door, straight into Anahita’s ears. Now that they were in silence and on their own, Anahita asked the question she was dying to ask.
“Why do Persians hate Arabians?”
He took a moment to digest the question, and then he sighed and said, “It is not about hate. Arabians and Persians are alike you see, but Arabians were given the power to rule and have gold. Persians on the other hand don’t rule, they have separate lands in Persia like the Queen Concetta’s land. Arabia is a full nation, the war broke out a year ago and everyone was corrupt. The Arabians won and went back to their country, the Persians were left homeless for months, and it is why this difficulty is so hard to understand.”
Anahita nodded, “they shouldn’t be like that to everyone. I wasn’t involved with all this mess.”
He narrowed his eyes, “we are all responsible.”
She wasn’t going to take it, “not I.”
And that was the end of their conversation, they waited for Okra to return or Lara to come and snarl at Anahita once again. But no one came, the sun was up high and the heat was immense, Ren adjusted his cloak and loosened his armour, breathing like a stranded wolf. Anahita took her time to look around; beyond some huts she saw nothing but flat lands, miles of sand and sun. A few birds flew high up in the sky, their shadows casting long streaks on the earth, Anahita imagined them diving down and swooping up their own shadows. That would have been hilarious; they would be trying to swoop at it forever.
The door to the hut opened and a glowing figure stepped out, by the looks of the silk red gown with gold embroidery and the heel of the golden shoes Anahita knew they were caught up with another lady. She was slim and much taller than Ren, her skin was a creamy colour, her black hair hung around her shoulders and stopped just shy of her shoulders. In each ear she wore two diamonds which shimmered brightly. Her eyes were the colour of the sky, clear, clean, warm. She had red lips which were pulled up into a large smile, her slim cheeks and long face was the exact replica of Ren’s. She was just a girly version of the boy beside her.
“Welcome!” she sounded relieved. “Back so soon, Ren?”
Ren smiled back at the mirror image of himself. “It was pretty easy, quick and fluent. You look excited somewhat, why is this?”
The girl clapped her hands, “it is my birthday, Ren.”
Ren nodded and turned to Anahita, “Anahita, this is Ulrika, she is my elder sister. She is nineteen summers today.”
Anahita and Ulrika locked eyes, and then Ulrika moved first, taking the small girl into a bear like hug.
“Nice to meet you, Anahita Meerad.”
Anahita stepped back, smiling awkwardly. “How do you know my name?”
Ulrika shrugged, “not a big deal, little one. I read stories and hear stories, I have a professional ear.”
Satisfied but worried that everyone would know who she is and what her past was like, Anahita tried to stick with Ulrika more than with Ren. Ulrika guided them through small gaps between huts, talking of nothing in particular, her voice like an echo as it pounded through the narrow pathways. Ren congratulated her, wishing her a happy birthday, offering her a tulip as a present. Ulrika had giggled away and crushed the tulip, it had been a beautiful red tulip, and if she had plucked that into her hair she would have looked dazzling. After a few minutes of walking, Anahita’s stomach groaned. She covered it up with a cough but could not resist the urge to pound towards food, wherever it was.
Finally they entered a nice round hut with a metal door and glass windows; a hut that looked luxurious compared to the one Anahita had been in back where Queen Concetta ruled. The hut smelt like lavender and vases stood on each corner of every room, flowers bloomed from them like colourful rainbows that reflected their beauty onto the walls and ceiling. The floor was carpeted, a nice cream colour, everywhere was almost a creamy texture. Ulrika guided them into the living room and slumped down into a cushion chair, Anahita stopped. The last time she had sat on a cushion chair was over two years ago, at her home in Arabia. Before her parents were called to Persia for the war, before they had to leave her in the hands of Queen Concetta as a servant.
Ren brushed past Anahita and sighed, “Goodness, Ulrika. It was so huge, one of the largest Black Spectre’s I have ever seen. I cannot believe I outran that thing, the portal was up-close so I think we got away good.” He peered at Anahita. “We got away good, right?”
Anahita nodded, was about to reply but Ulrika grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her onto the cushion chair beside her. The girls shared a smile which was at once recognised as deep friendship. Ren cleared his throat, tried to break up the gossip that Ulrika was about to start when he heard a rumble. Ulrika howled with laughter and shot up, “dear me Anahita that was loud! Ren! We must get her to eat, look at her, she’s skinnier that the twigs in Charger Forest.”
Ren smiled at Anahita, “I gave her some bread but she spat blood all over it, I think it leaked or something, I’m not sure.”
“You didn’t offer her any raisin clusters?” Ulrika left the room.
Ren paled, “raisin clusters?”
Ulrika returned to the door with three glasses in hand, “I packed you raisin clusters when you came here from Arabia. Remember?”
Ren grabbed his bag from his back and tipped out the contents. Bread, water, fruit, raisin clusters in a bag...
He snorted, it was untouched. “Oh, I forgot.”
Ulrika placed the glasses on a table near the right wall; the window beside it gave scenery to the vast sand lands.
“I see that, naughty. Anyway, you both wash your hands and come sit.”
Anahita and Ren followed Ulrika into the kitchen; they washed their hands in a sink, a sink very similar to the one Anahita used to wash the Queen’s dishes in. Anahita, like a new born baby examined her surroundings, taking in the cupboards and stove and fire and floor. It was all entirely silver, pure, almost untouched silver.
Ulrika caught her staring and grinned, “I do not live here. I only come from Arabia to this village with Ren, so that on his journey back and there I can give him foods and supplies. I’ve done allot to make it like home, but it is not quite. Is it, Ren?”
Ren leaned himself against the wall and shrugged, “no. Home is where magical things happen, what happens here is blood and betrayal.”
There was a roughness to his voice that Anahita caught. Ulrika’s dark eyebrows settled. “Ren, hush now.”
Ren realised Anahita’s worried look and turned, “come, hunger cannot wait.”
Ulrika gave Ren a stupid look, making Anahita curl in with giggles.
In the living room Ulrika opened a small opening in the wall that was linked to the kitchen, she took a tray of meats and boiled vegetables, some curry was served with bread. Water and juices came later; Anahita frowned at some of the foods. Ren introduced them to her, she had rejected the meats but Ulrika told her they were fishes and good to eat. The fish actually looked like meat; she almost toppled over with laughter.
As she ate the pile of vegetable Ren had poured for her, Anahita Meerad thought about Ali and Havana and the other servants. What would the Queen do? Who will get the beatings? Who would Havana blame now? Servants like Rose would be taken in, changing their shifts to work harder... bile rose in her throat and Anahita almost puked.
Ren was too busy nibbling on crunchy carrots; Ulrika was staring out into the sand lands with a spoonful of rice in her mouth. None of them paid her any attention, so she went on thinking about the greasy roads and darkened houses. The layout of the Castle walls and the uphill daily climb of the stairs.
At least there was no more of that, for now.

THREE

ULRIKA and Anahita shared the work to tidy up; Ren sat in the back garden, staring out at the endless golden earth, the sun setting slowly. His eyes narrowed to blue slits; something dark and twisted was curling in his veins. He didn’t hear the soft breathing and steps as someone came to sit beside him, he inhaled and exhaled, pulling himself out of the small trance.
His head slowly moved to the right, he smiled at the figure beside him.
“Eaten?” he asked.
Anahita nodded, “yes. You do not look so good, maybe you should go rest.”
“Ulrika sent you to tell me to go to bed? Nah.”
Anahita frowned, scanning their surroundings. “You look exhausted, Ren. After all you did out there, you most certainly need to close your lids.”
He laughed, wiped his trousers. “If that is what you two worried ladies want, then that is what I will do. Under one condition.”
“And what is that?”
He sniffed, “if you rest too.”
Anahita shook her head, wondering in what need she should rest. She hadn’t done much on the way here, certainly nothing to do in the near future... she didn’t need a rest till a couple of days- she had lived for six days without sleep once- yet he looked very concerned. She wondered if it was for her injuries that she had to rest, or if it was for the satisfaction that she needed her strength back for something like the Black Spectre. She couldn’t hold back a thing like that, if it was a growling wolf-
“What are you thinking?” he asked suddenly.
Anahita shrugged, “nothing. I don’t need any rest, if I needed to, I would be snoring my backside off.”
He gave a small laugh, then his face fell and he stared out at the sands. She watched him fight a current inside, yet it was invisible to her thoughts, why did he look so sad?
Then the question bubbled, “Can I ask you something?”
He blinked, “yes?”
“Where are your parents?”
He looked taken aback, then rubbed his temples and sighed. The way his face lolled down harder made her regret the question, what if his parents had died a brutal death like hers? What if he didn’t want to talk about it, because it brought back a sorrowful picture? Anahita glared at the sky, crumbling thoughts of her own parents tortured her mind.
“They’re with Mu’aqquibat, safe.”
She frowned, Mu’aqquibat? He couldn’t be serious, they were with- angels? It was impossible; legend said the dead roamed the gates of heaven and hell, but with Mu’aqquibat? He wasn’t a Gabriel like angel... he was the protector from death. Why were Ren Talon and Ulrika Talon’s parents with the protector of death?
Before she could verbally ask, he gave a small yawn and rubbed his hazy eyes.
“They had a will,” his voice held a hollow edge, no emotion. “They wanted me and Ulrika to live, Queen Concetta was ruling then and the war broke out. I and my sister are the only siblings, when death came; Mu’aqquibat came in the way and promised my parents that if they came with him their children could live.
“So we lived, watching our parents torn in-between life and death, we used to have dreams about them looking very happy in a kingdom of bloom- but that’s stopped now since the flood.”
Memory flew into Anahita’s mind and she gulped, “a year?”
He swung his head to her, “yes. Were you there during the flood?”
She simply nodded, not trusting her voice. He edged closer; peering into her lost big eyes and shook his head. Inside the house they heard dishes clattering and glass broke, Ulrika swore fiercely and squeaked.
“Anahita, I need your help!” her voice echoed for some time.
“Morning call,” he smiled, though it wasn’t satisfyingly playful.
Anahita gathered up her torn lilac gown and went in to help Ulrika. She didn’t look back even as she felt Ren’s sad gaze on her, what did he see in her that made him so boldly sorrowful? Did he sense her unease, or was he just playing nice?
In the kitchen Ulrika was kneeling down and gathering some pots which she explained had fallen as she opened the draw, the glass which lay on the floor beside her had fallen from her grasp. Anahita ran to the dustpan and brush, sweeping away most of the glass, feeling like she was back at the Castle. Her stomach twisted, motion pictures of Ali and Havana and Rose flickered in her vision, she realised she missed them- excluding Havana. She hated that girl, to the inner depths of the core of her heart.
Ulrika allowed the worry to pass as both girls went to sit down beside the fire in the living room, the dark figure of Ren was unmoving on the grass, staring into the distance.
“He is like that,” Ulrika whispered. “Always thinking about things, he likes time on his own, to regain power and strength.” She poked her head out. “Ren, please do not come indoors for a few minutes OK?”
A muffled voice satisfied her; she turned back to Anahita and grinned. Something glittered there as her eyes traced Anahita’s small figure.
“You’re dirty,” Ulrika snarled.
Anahita cringed, “I know. You did not have to say it like that!”
The other girl grinned, “OK, let us get this sorted. You head down the hall to the bathing area and I’ll see what we have. I will also tell Reno to stay out there for some more time, we do not want him walking in-”
“I will not!” Ren called. “Clean her up good; I do not want her foul odour of blood and oranges edging another Black Spectre towards us.”
“You shut up!” Ulrika laughed. “Come, I shall show you to it.”
The bathing area was so nicely decorated and warm that Anahita didn’t want to leave, Ulrika had gotten her dressed in a lose silk gown and told her to stand under a small hole in the ceiling. Water engulfed her. Ulrika explained that the silk gown was to be worn if injuries needed to heal; she said that the silk was special and contained chemicals that mixed with the water and healed the wounds. She was also told to scrub at the dress, the soap would go through the cloth and clean her spotless, her hair was a little hard to wash; she called for Ulrika who appeared with a bowl of peeled oranges. She smiled and placed the bowl at a nearby stand and came over, she blocked the hole and grabbed a sweet smelling shampoo. She explained how these things worked; Anahita had told her she used to wash her hair with soap which made it stiff and ‘un-shiny’ as she put it. Ulrika’s touch was soft; she massaged the lime and lavender into her scalp and sung riddles till most of it had come to a sticky solid halt. When it was almost dry, Ulrika ordered her to unblock the hole and rinse it all out, grinning while she said that she needed to scrub her scalp free of the shampoo. It was difficult to wash long hair by yourself, so when Anahita was done she stepped out and Ulrika pulled down a large bowl like thing from the ceiling and let it hang over the girls wet head. A few moments later a towel was wrapped around her hair and air gushed around her body. The dress flew around her ankles and her skin dried ever so quickly, Ulrika grinned. From the way she clapped when the dryer turned off, Anahita knew Ulrika was openly happy with the result. She removed the towel from her head and let her hair fall lose, she combed the knots out carefully and pulled her into a small dressing room. Ulrika declared that she would pick the dress, and to Anahita’s surprise she picked a pair of leather trousers which were too tight but Ulrika said they were handy for when they got to the Sand Land. She gave her a black top which was high necked and full armed, it was extremely comfortable.
“All your clothing will maintain a certain mass of temperature,” she explained as she handed her a small jacket. “They will keep you cool in the warm weather and warm in the cold weather. Fear nothing!”
Grinning madly, Ulrika took her through into the living room; she allowed her a view of herself. The scar on her cheek was almost gone, for some bizarre reason after days of not signalling a disappearance. She looked better than a few minutes ago, alive and fragile, she couldn’t help but smile.
Her damp hair was easily drying, causing a few strands to spring into curls, but allowing the rest to straighten by itself.
Ulrika brought back the bowl of oranges and set it on the table, Anahita sat down and took a few oranges, and they were sweet and ever so tasty. Ren entered and smiled, directly at Anahita.
“Wow,” Ulrika clapped her hands. “I think I’m going to enjoy your lovely company, like what I’ve done to her, Reno?”
Ran having taken a seat beside Anahita nodded, “smells better. Looks different, too. Bless the Meerad family.”
The two girls exchanged a weary look, but then began eating oranges rather loudly just to make Ren cringe. Ulrika playfully threw him the skin, he kicked her from under the table while all the time Anahita watched and wondered what it would be like to be a big sister or a younger one- fun!
But that advantage had been taken away from her, so far away that she wouldn’t dare reach it with her forbidding will. She ate more oranges, remembering when she had peeled them for the Queen but was not allowed to eat them herself, that had been a very fun day. Skin lay everywhere, when the guards had entered they were furious, that was the only day Anahita had spoken before the evil Havana and blamed her. Of course she had not been beaten, just told not to do it again; there was no denying the fact that the Queen fed her a few slices of it while she was at it. Fancy that!
“We are leaving soon,” Ren announced and Anahita sighed. “I do not want to delay any more time, it is not that I want to go away from my beloved sister, I just want to get a move on back to Arabia. We have slept well before we arrived, I think.”
He glanced towards Anahita who nodded dumbly, “right, I think we’ll head off now.”
“But-” Ulrika began but silenced herself.
She knew very well that if she disturbed her brothers plans, he might not well like going anywhere, but stay by his sisters side and help her do the things she only wished to do: get her parents back. That was what Ulrika was after, her parents. Ren was after freedom for the Persians and Arabians, he had also promised to get their parents back.
Anahita stood, “thank you Ulrika.”
The pretty girl shrugged, “no problem. I will always be here, if Ren ever brings you back.”
Ren gaped, “what? Of course I will, I can see you two are like bonded friends, now Anna, you ready?”
Anna... her parents used to call her that.

When they had bid the beautiful Ulrika farewell, Ren led the way towards the only place Anahita had wanted to avoid.
The Sand Lands.
Her stomach lurched, this place, as soon you stepped into it brought a tingle of want and hatred including memories and nightmares all at the same time. Ren didn’t seem to have a problem, buying maids from Persia and taking them back to Arabia- he was the master of these doomed lands. As they walked, Anahita looked down at her clothes, remembering what Ulrika has told her.
“All your clothing will maintain a certain mass of temperature; they will keep you cool in the warm weather and warm in the cold weather. Fear nothing!”
Smiling, Anahita trotted on like a beggar stalking a rich man. Ren had gotten rid of his armour and cloak, she hadn’t realised he wasn’t wearing it. Instead he was tad in the same leather black trousers and top but with a much more boyish and loose jacket. He said they had packed another pair of clothes before the leave, he told her she had a dress and some accessorize and he carried a simple suit.
“They’re only for special occasions,” he had warned. “You wont go in this bag unless I say so, understood?”
She had nodded smugly; of course she was going to go in that bag, to get her food and water obviously.
Ren was unexpectedly brave, she had to admit that. When she saw a rattle snake hissing towards them through the lumps of sand she had screamed and hid behind him. Mr Bravo Talon had leaped forward and gripped the snake around the neck, squeezed and sent it to its misery. He said it wasn’t a sin to kill snakes, but the snakes out here in the Sand Lands... Satan lived deep inside their souls.
They had encountered nothing for the rest of the evening, so when the sun went down and Anahita was pretty satisfied that nothing was going to pop up-
“What was that?” she gasped, looking back the small village was no longer in sigh.
He stopped too, sniffing at the air and shrugging although trying to form a reasonable answer that wouldn’t scare her corpse less.
“It is nothing,” was all he came up with.
But he sensed her hurrying over and sticking close to his right elbow, he almost stifled a laugh when she clutched tight, just when that sound came again. He gaped.
“Hear that?” she asked, so quietly he had to lean over slightly. “Sounds like a wolf... Ren...”
He moved forward, dragging her along, and then stopped to smile. “There are no wolves in the Sand Lands, Anna. Just ghouls and fiends and Black Spectres who had broken out the woods and forests when the flood came in, hey you look white as a sheet.”
She shivered, “out of that big list, what the hell is it?”
This made Ren nervous, he had encountered these howling creatures and he knew exactly how to handle them.
“Do not worry, I know what it is. Just follow me, stick close, but not that close that you’ve practically come inside me. OK?”
She nodded, gulped and followed, eyes scanning the half dark area. It wasn’t much of a sight, but she told herself it would all be alright. The howling was far and she could feel Ren tense as soon as they heard it coming from another direction, she was screaming to ask him if there was a safer way of moving around the Sand Lands but knew that he wouldn’t answer her stupidity. They were walking in the middle; from all four directions even the world’s biggest idiot would think them as an enemy. She hated feeling an arrow or a sword go through her back, a counter attack as Ulrika had warned would be no surprise. Anahita was worried, she glanced back again.
Nothing, just sand and the past they had left behind. Her feet were light on the sand, she could feel them dipping in and coming out just as easily, Ren was kicking it about like it was nothing more than a dead pup.
As they headed forward, the howling got louder, closer and scarier. The travellers were now almost speed walking but did not come to a full run, the sounds were from everywhere. Neither of them spoke while trying to ignore the sounds, causing any form of attraction towards themselves could be dangerous. Could be.
A howl from the right caused them to stop walking, it had been so close and-
Anahita gave a gasp of surprise when she saw blood over her hand; Ren glared at it and then looked over her shoulder to witness a hunched charcoal wolf. It was on its fours but the tail was puffed up in warning call, the spine was arched and fury full, the snarl proved it wanted an attack. The eyes were a golden brown edged with a reddish gleam, the saliva dripped and made a lump in the sand. Anahita stared, her hands shaking, the blood warming her flesh, where had it come from?
“Stay ever so still,” Ren whispered. “Until I say so, understood?”
She nodded, not willing to say a word in case the wolf leaped. But it didn’t, it was there ready to launch, but not diving. It was a long time until Ren gave his own gasp, Anahita watched him shake his hand, blood...
In their line of distraction, the wolf on Anahita’s side jumped and took her down; she whirled and caught it in the arm. He jammed her into the sand and tried snapping at her shoulder and face, she kicked in fury and pain but the creature was just too big. Its paws were flat on her ribcage, pushing and almost cracking the bone; she gave a yelp and slapped the wolf across the jaw. It didn’t react so; instead it bit the base of her palm and peeled a lump of skin off, another scratch from his claws sent blood flying into the air. Anahita hissed from the new cut on her torn lips.
During her little fight with the dark wolf, she caught sight of Ren slaughtering other wolves of odd green colours and blues. Some just appeared from thin air, although they had been invisible all along.
Fear gripped her, she had no weapon.
Her training lessons with her parents were all to do with human attacks and during war and self defence if she needed it, but they had never told her how to fight a wolf.
Trying her hardest to beat the creature, Anahita remembered the one thing her father had told her:
“Always look for the weak chakra,” he had said one night. “It’s normally in the-”
Anahita grinned and lifted her fist, pushing all her energy into her punch and knocked the wolf down by thudding it in the throat. It fell on its back and didn’t get up; the neck was the weakest chakra, many lessons taught her that. Other wolves were no longer in sight, their crumbling forms turning to sand just as quickly. The lone charcoal attacker shivered, gagged and turned into the ground just as quickly. It wasn’t a surprising sight, rather glum and sickening. Turning away from them Anahita glanced at Ren, who stood examining his hand, she peered at her own. Most of the blood had cleared and she saw the deep gnash from her wrist to the top of her forefinger, she could see bone and flesh and tried not to cringe. With the minor cuts she knew they’d live. Travelling in the dark was her last request.
“Take no notice,” Ren approached and took her hand, examining it sourly. “It shall heal by itself sometime soon; wolf cuts are nothing more than paper cuts. Hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head, blinking back the sting of pain. In fact she was covered in fresh bruises, that wolf hadn’t been light as a feather but heavy as a boulder. He grabbed the back bag and swung it through his arms, pinning it to his spine. Grudgingly, Anahita followed him and kept her hands to herself, sticking them in the jacket pockets.
The wind was howling by the time they got to a small cactus plant, Anahita sat down while Ren cut the spiked flesh with a small dagger and began drinking from it.
He moved and wiped his mouth, almost instantly the cut area of the cactus resealed itself and let a spike fall.
“Come,” he beckoned her over. “It’s the cactus that allows you to drink whatever, very rare. Wish what to drink and cut it open, and then fill away!”
Nervous and unsure she stepped forward and wished for something, then nodded to Ren who gave the cactus another cut. It poured a yellow coloured liquid and she jammed her mouth to it, the taste filled her mouth and she gulped it down. Time ticked on and she moved away, last drips of the drink trickled down the body of the cactus and sealed the slit. Another spike fell off.
At her questioning gaze Ren told her, “The spike is to let the cactus know how many things it has fed in the coming week. Looks like we’re the first two, mango juice I see?”
He grinned and she scowled, “what did you ask for?”
His grin faded, “you don’t need to know.”
His sudden angry tone made her take a step back, his eyes narrowed and lips thinned into a vicious line. His jaw tightened and she heard the squeak of his teeth rubbing against each other.
“Get a move,” he said and when she didn’t move he boomed the next word. “Now!”
Anahita hesitated, and then willed her feet to move. On shaky legs she made to his side and followed him like a sidekick, wondering what had caused his sudden outburst of rage...

FOUR

IT was too dark; nothing could be seen for a good arms reach outwards. Ren had no problem, only one, keeping his distance from her. Every step he took he shifted to the left, slowly moving from her side, Anahita wondered why. He glanced at her, making sure she wasn’t watching him, but her senses were not that dead gone. His fists were clenched, making sure she knew that he didn’t want anything to do with her. She was on this journey with him; he’s the one who dragged her into this mess; at the same time taken her out of some too.
Rolling her eyes away from him she caught sight of lights up ahead, hope shimmered and she soon realised that they were at some sort of crossing. The crossing was a drop zone where the deep fall ended within the earth’s core, but instead of expecting fire and other items she was told about; Anahita saw water.
The moonlight danced off the liquid and made the nearby stones give off a radiant light, which is what Anahita had gotten so happy about.
“There is a water fall bridge that separates the Sand Lands from Arabia, and the Sand Lands from the Charm Forest.” Her father had once told her.
Straightening her spine she knew they would have to circle the falls and carry on around the pathway that led them into Arabia. What was her purpose? Was she meant to be another maid? Is this why Ren was treating her like a bad child, because he wanted to prove to his people he was probably a worthy leader that could bring any servant he liked? Because he thought they were good enough?
Horror drenched her and Anahita slipped, falling forward into the fall, she yelled out in shock and disgust. Hands grabbed her jacket and were hauling her back to steady ground, she whirled and punched.
Ren didn’t let her go until he had dragged her a few feet back, his face a mask of strain and the same rage. She pushed at him and growled, making him raise a brow in wonder.
“Calm down, kitty,” he laughed. “It will not do any good to have you greeting the King with a broken leg, or two.”
Grinning he set off again, but she was overdosing herself with fearful questions and future settlements. They were going to use her, her chance to find out about her parents true nature of death was going to be snatched from her. Swallowing curses she staggered after him, a little dizzy from the act.
The round pathway was uneven and she kept slipping towards the fall, the big hole which contained water, half empty since the flood took over a year back.
The war was too brutal as she remembered, men and women including children were unfaithfully murdered before her eyes, and when things had settled down she realised that she was in the hands of Queen Concetta just before the water came rushing all around her.
Anahita wished it would come up now and take her in, claim her again like it was mean too; at least she wouldn’t come up with such stupid thoughts.
Ren was much further ahead, whistling and riddling with himself. He didn’t look back once to check if she was safe or even agreeing to follow him, what was the most likely scenario? He’d yell at her again, nothing to be afraid of.
Anahita had seen something damned and dark in him in the kitchen, what had that been all about? Was he up to something he didn’t want to do or was he being... controlled?
“Hurry up!” he snapped, finally turning back to her and frowning. “There are Black Spectre’s in the forest ahead.”
Right now, she wasn’t worried about the Black monsters, it was him-
“I twisted my ankle,” she tried to fake cry and was surprised when a tear rapidly sprung and fell down her cheek. “It hurts.”
Sighing he came over and handed her the back bag, she put it on and climbed onto his back, he grunted something in fury and then- ran. She clung tight, just in case he himself lost the grip on ground and brought an end to both of their useless lives. He didn’t lose any grip and certainly wasn’t planning to drop her in the fall- just what she was about to think- and they reached the forest within easy timing.
He set her down, more although shrugged her off and began walking.
“Damn you!” she screamed as her ankle twisted for real. “Why are you acting so grumpy, what has got into you?”
He didn’t answer, so she carried on. “Tell me, or I'm not going any further with you, you have been hard and ill mannered since the drink at the cactus.” Her voice hardened with anger. “If you think you can overrule me, Ren Talon, you should try harder.”
He swung to her and she stopped acting like a complete fool, his face was more tense and angrier than ever. He looked nothing like his kind and lovely sister; he looked like a raged and disturbed monster. He stalked to her and she crawled backwards, leaves crunching under her hands, eyes on his. He stopped just by her feet and blinked.
In that blink his face fell polite, kind and almost the same as how it had been hours ago. Anahita began to worry about his mood changes; this could be a rather compelling journey. He squatted and sighed, eyes too light of a blue to even stare at, but still she looked into them with terror in her own.
“Look,” he said although it took his life’s energy. “The cactus doesn’t like males, the one we drank from. It only feeds to women who are noble and strong, even a giant of a man would not be granted enough of it, which is why I was only granted with warm water. Not cold.”
Anahita gasped, “What?”
He nodded regretfully, “the warm water stirred a string inside me, as it would have done with every other male. It raises the temper either good or bad, goodness.”
She frowned, “does that mean you were angry and it raised your anger?”
He nodded, eyes hardening but cooling when she backed away further. “Sorry, Anna, I should have told you. I asked for cool water, but like I said it only gives us hot water.”
She dipped her head, “that bloody cactus...”
“Hey,” he laughed, sounding like himself. “Come on, we must move on, a Black Spectre could be hanging about anywhere.”
He offered a hand and she took it painfully, he offered a back ride and she had beamed to it.
“Its fun,” she explained as soon as he ran. “By the way I was joking about the twisted ankle before, sorry.”
He nodded, “I knew.”
“How?”
“I know allot about you, things you don’t wish me to know. Things you don’t want to tell me, its part of who I am, Anna.”
Gulping down new thoughts about him knowing everything about her, she thought about their surroundings. It was a nice place, not as charming as the Charm Forest.
They took a short break because Anahita was hungry, Ren grabbed some cheese sandwiches from the bag and they both ate as quickly as they could. Their surroundings were rather dull looking since the moon was struggling to sharpen its light; everything was a rude yellowish grey, making Anahita want to sulk till death arrived. Ren pushed on allot, over fallen trees and under calved in branches, it was hard with Anahita on his back, so she had to crawl through some places by herself. Her clothes were nor ripped nor dirty from the half night journey, but she knew that beneath she was torn and bruised to high heavens.
Continuing on with one foot, they caught sight of a tall Black Spectre, its scent was nose blowing, and its sight was mind melting. Ren kept Anahita close, in case she shrieked and they had to make a run for it, but thankfully she didn’t say or move wrongly an inch. The Black Spectre sat on a fallen log and was still as tall as the high branches, the hood was over its head and the staff was resting along its knees. It looked to be snoozing, but neither traveller exchanged any thoughts about attacking it. They slipped by it easily, breathing only when it was far behind; Anahita glanced around and kept an eye out for more Blacks.
Thankfully, to her first wish for safety, there were none seen.

Ren stopped just outside the Charger Forest; he hiked Anahita higher and stepped into the blank whiteness. To Anahita it was just a white sheet when they had stopped, now it was a huge gate in which they were now entering. The gate was a brass gold, calved with weaving shapes of flowers and petals and in between the two middles of both sides was the word:
ARABIA.
Anahita swallowed and allowed Ren to carry her through; her instinct was to run away and never come back, memories surged and collided with her actions. She almost choked Ren, but he laughed and shrugged although he wanted her to kill him. She would have, back when he was having his drinks angry moments.
The streets of Arabia were beautiful, deserted with tall and small people even at this time of night, shops were open and houses were alive. The candle lights were blinding and Anahita giggled, shaking her head hard just to make sure she was looking at the right scenery and not a dream.
“Excited?” he asked, sounding almost relieved to make it to Arabia.
Anahita smiled, “yes. Although I can’t really remember gates being there, it’s so lovely!”
Ren nodded, “the gates were installed after the flood, and to keep creatures away, including the Persians. They’re protected, did you see the white light?” she nodded. “That blinds the evil who tries to cross the border, but to those who travel to Arabia to serve or live they are most welcome. Here, Anna, nature calls us and allows us almost everything.”
Nodding dumbly she asked to be let down, she limped against him and they made their way slowly between decorated houses and scent filled gardens. Ren talked and joked, informing her of where they were going. He said that he needed to report back to the King as soon as he got her, and now Anahita’s stomach was in nervous knots.
“Are you important to the King?” she asked as they walked up a steady hill.
He shrugged, “of course. I’m the Kings Head guard; I give orders to other guards and so forth. Why do you ask?”
A lump grew in her throat, “do you order beatings?”
He frowned at himself, and then remembered her state when he found her in the kitchen. He laughed.
“No, we do not beat. It is in Arabian culture not to harm someone else; the Persians worked you hard, didn’t they?”
Anahita looked away to hide her tears, “yes. Every day.”
They said nothing more until they reached the top of the hill and came face to face with the Castle doors, just like the ones of Queen Concetta. Anahita had to crane her neck just to take a dimmed look at the highest tower; the pointed tip looked dangerous, if it was to fall and that dangerous pencil tip was to slice through a-
“Ren!” the voice was so loud Anahita cried out in shock.
One male guarded the Castle door, his armour was thick as a tree trunk, made him look like a giant cheese roll. Ren hurried over while Anahita stuck to him like a painful ache.
“Jacob!” Ren barked in equal delight and half embraced the other guard.
Jacob had a small face, probably the same age as Ren himself with dark hair and black eyes. He eyed Anahita thoughtfully.
“By the name of Darda’il, Ren, you shift from ugliest to pretties. What is your name, girl?”
Anahita raised a brow and coughed, “that is restricted from your knowledge.”
Ren grinned, “She is clever and mean all at the same time, she speaks the truth Jacob. That is restricted for your ears.”
Jacob shrugged and pushed a large lever down, the heavy doors awkwardly opened inwards and a huge hall was revealed.
Anahita’s jaw flung open, the Castle was beautiful. No guards standing around the walls wasting their time, no useless people hanging about and chatting and certainly no cold blooded individuals who laughed when they saw an Arabian. Anahita smiled at a nearby lady who waved right at her, like they’d known each other for a very long time. Ren was fixed to nodding around, pointing at important sculptures and showing her paintings of Kings and Queens. Amongst them, Anahita saw Ren, maybe just a few years younger than he was now.
“Ren,” she frowned. “If these are Kings and Queens, then why are you here?”
He shrugged, “all royals are displayed on this gallery wall. Princes and princesses...”
Anahita jerked back and almost tripped, Ren grabbed her sleeve and kept her up on both feet. She blinked at him, like she was awakening from a trance.
“You’re a prince?”
He nodded.
“Prince, Ren?”
He nodded again and added, “Yes of course. Ulrika is a princess, there she is.” He pointed to a picture of a young girl seated on a throne, a huge smile printed on her pretty face. Anahita smiled, wonder and confusion mixing up inside her.
“Then the King would be your uncle, am I right?”
“Indeed, King Patrick has ruled since our parents were taken by Mu’aqquibat. He knows where they are, a very kind individual, offers us his help.”
Anahita turned to the sounds of loud clapping, a few people stood nearby cheering at a guard who looked rather tire but impressed. Ren helped her forward and they joined the little crowd, what they were happy about was rather scary. The guard had just been outside the back walls of Arabia and had taken down seventeen wolves and two Black Spectres, Anahita was astonished. Ren was talking loudly; other people stared at Anahita who clung to him like refuge. She waved and trotted on after him, the guard was with them all the way up the red carpeted stairs. His name was Boron, a warrior who defended the Arabian walls along with his army.
“I don’t like the job anymore,” Boron nudged Ren. “Maybe you can take over for me sometime soon, you’re young and talented and who is this gorgeous beauty you bring with you?”
Ren winked at Anahita, “this is my wife.”
Boron clapped, huge hands almost like slaps, “Ren this is excellent news! When did this happen?”
Ren laughed, Anahita played up with the act. “It was in the middle of a fight with a Black Spectre and a pack of wolves.”
Boron looked at her, “amazing. Tell me, if you do not mind, what is your name?”
Anahita grinned, “That is restricted from your knowledge, and we are not married. Ren and I were just teasing.”
Boron wiped his brow, “got me there, whoa. I was going to say that Ren has good taste, why are you here then, girl?”
“She’s going to work alongside Uncle Patrick,” Ren informed as they took a right turn into a cold hallway, the pillars giving way into a large garden full of tulips and roses.
Boron frowned, “Ren, you can’t do that. Look at her, what you going to make her do? Clean pots, slay dragons?”
“Work alongside King Patrick,” Ren said sternly.
They walked on in silence, which Anahita hated the most. Boron was fiddling with his armour while Ren examined the place, it was breath taking for Anahita, and she wondered why Queen Concetta never considered this place a true home. The Castle in Persia was an average building compared to this one, for a second everything was blank and new.

King Patrick sat on a throne, allot like the one Ulrika was sitting on in the painting. A massive golden thing with ruby red diamonds pinched all over the edges, it was dazzling, and when the fire reflected on it, Anahita was gone to high heaven. This was what a proper King and Queen sat on, not a lazy lounge chair. Anahita struggled to curtsey; Ren helped her half way, when they stood, King Patrick’s black eyes were dancing.
“Welcome to Arabia, Anahita Meerad. I have heard many stories about your name and your parents, brave and talented. I hope you carry the same personality, it will do you good.”
Anahita nodded, wondering why it would do her so much good when the only good thing that happened to her parents was drowning in a flood. She didn’t answer, so King Patrick went on about how much he appreciated her being here and why he wanted a maid from Persia. He wanted one because Queen Concetta was a strict lady and that her guards and maids were strong, hard working and exceptionally grand. Anahita nodded occasionally and glanced at Ren who watched her unexpectedly.
She nodded to him, he smiled and said not a word as to how she should reply and what she should do. Anahita was confused.
“Anahita,” King Patrick smiled. “Tell me, what did Queen Concetta say about your leave?”
This time Anahita’s gaze fixed on Ren was one of plead, he coughed and stood up straight, feet glued to the floor.
“Uncle, Anahita was taken due to her state.” He swallowed. “She was injured really badly, I saw her and thought of curing her while at the time when I saw her I was fully satisfied that she was the right one this time. Queen Concetta does not know about Anahita’s whereabouts.”
King Patrick rubbed his chin in thought and mumbled a few words to himself, then stood and made way down the two steps, he was incredibly tall. Anahita saw his mass, he was huge, a big man like him could take down a horde of Black Spectres.
He stopped before her, “Anahita Meerad, I will see what I can do about your sudden disappearance, do not worry.” He turned to Ren. “Well done, boy. We have one more headache on our heads, Concetta will not be happy; your next task is to return to Persia and buy me two gravestones.”
Ren blinked, Boron hid his surprise. “Uncle, gravestones in Persia are finger itching, people can’t touch their prices.”
Boron agreed with a nod, the King smiled. “Fear nothing; I have everything you need to buy me these amazing golden gravestones, the cost will vary the mass.”
Anahita looked at Boron, his white shade of hair dangling loosely around his temples; he was old, very old. She wondered if the King was ordering gravestones for him, is that why Boron was here too? On the exact same time as Ren, just so they could arrive to the meeting together to discuss fate?
The moon was hidden behind a thin cloud and the light gave a greyish shine to the sky, darkening Anahita’s face. The chamber was white and silver, the ceiling a resilient shade which looked like the skies in early spring, candlelight’s flickered and flared as the moon was once more visible.
“Your majesty,” Boron sounded shakily. “If I could accompany Ren, it would be a great honour for my last task.”
King Patrick smiled; it wasn’t a friendly smile but a nervous one. Anahita did not know what these weird man-feeling expressions were for; but they meant something between the three of them.
“Boron,” the King finally said. “You have full allowance of going to Persia with Ren, there is one thing I would like you to do while you two are at it.”
“Anything,” Boron was excited. “Everything.”
“Good,” the King sat back in his chair. “You will have to train Ren how to fight a Black Spectre, he tends to run away from them using teleportation, and I don’t want a cowardly King next on throne.”
Ren scowled and his uncle laughed, “I can kill a Spectre, uncle. It is just that I have limited time that I cannot decipher with evil. You must know how much I want to get my jobs done, as much as serving my own family; I am more than welcome to be trained by Boron.”
King Patrick laid his head back against the throne, “good. For now you should rest, leave whenever you wish to. Report to me before you go, and Anahita?”
Anahita found her voice, “yes?”
King Patrick looked her in the eye, “You were brought here to serve me, but I have changed my mind. You are now my guardian and teacher for those in the courtyard; you will train the younger girls how to defend themselves. I have heard much about you; the trees of Charm Forest send many messages, including the Sand Lands.”
Anahita blinked, Ren gaped and Boron stared. For her, this was a massive responsibility, training younger girls?
“Your Majesty,” she began but the King cut her off.
“Call me Patrick; I’m not that royal to you.”
“Patrick,” she said a little uneasily. “I know there is no need to ask this, and I thank you for the role but, what was I really brought here for?”
Ren shifted away, King Patrick’s face was suddenly a mask of horror and regret.
“Anahita Meerad,” he replied softly. “You were meant to be the executioner, just like your father.”

FIVE

EXECUTIONER was one word that left the corridors of the Castle weeping; it was a dangerous word that had filled the entire world with potions of poison. The Executioner was one who beheaded the people, either good or bad; a beggar who stole a crumb for their baby was killed. Anahita thought about her father, how could he do that? Kill other people simply because they were starving to death, because they were poor? Boron had parted straight afterwards; his gaze on Anahita was slow and sorry.
She and Ren marched along lonely hallways, his hands in the trouser pockets and hers in the jacket, her hair was a tangle, but she had managed to set it down by running her fingers through it.
“Listen Anahita,” he began but she turned towards another corridor and walked on much faster. She heard him running to catch up, but she darted on, ignoring the pain in her twisted ankle. By the time she reached the end he had caught up, grabbing her hand and twirling her around, she thudded against the wall and gave a small cry.
She fought him back even when he pinned her hands to the wall, he was calm but curious. She lashed out, kicking and cursing through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed to angry slits.
“You knew!” she snarled. “You knew my role was going to be evil and sinful, you should have brought me here to be executed instead!”
“Anahita!” he said. “I knew very well, I knew everything! That is why I picked you, I knew all along whom I wanted, I was watching you getting the beating, and I saw you take it which is who my uncle needed! Your father was a great man, understand? He was amazingly fragile; he offered the job to himself for years, a little selfish because he didn’t want anyone else knowing the beauty of murder!”
Anahita froze, “are you saying my father loved killing?”
He shook his head, “yes, you should have been there. Every time an execution took place he would walk up to the stage and grin happily, kill the person and kick their heads off into the crowd where children happily used it as playing equipment!”
Anahita pushed him and ran, this time he did not follow.
* * *

Morning came and went the next day, breakfast was toast and milk, Anahita was surprised as to how kind and logic King Patrick was. He had apologised for owning up about her true job, and also taken her down to the courtyard to introduce her to the students. The girls were all small, about five or six summers old, but mature than most adults.
Ren had not joined them for breakfast, even as they had toured the Castle he was not in sight. Anahita wondered what he might have been up to, but that though had perished when the King thrust a sword into her hands.
“Fight me,” he smiled, crabbing his own from around the waist.
The students backed away across the large courtyard, Anahita swallowed. The King was not in armour and neither was she, everyone else training was silent and moved to give them space. Crowds of people gathered in the stands, some had already started to cheer. Anahita caught sight of Boron, he waved at her, but she remained focused on the King.
“With pleasure,” she replied and launched forward.
Her sword clashed with the King’s and he staggered back, leaning on one foot he stabbed towards her ribcage but she pulled her belly in and grunted. She strode back and crossed him diagonally; they circled each other with bent legs. It was all very silent; the sun sent rays of heat upon them, the sweat pouring down their bodies was like buckets of boiling water. Anahita gripped the sword tighter, glimpsing the King do the same, so she made her moved as soon as his hand was loosened.
He swore aloud and giggled as her sword went right from under his arm, she could have sliced it off in one easy strike. He leaned back and slashed at her knees; Anahita jumped in time and watched the blade whip from under her. Luck.
King Patrick, being a big man stalked towards her, his shadow looming over her, hiding her frame from the others.
“Can we use our body?” she asked with a frown as he was almost upon her.
He nodded, “yes-”
She kicked him, hard. In the ribs.
King Patrick howled in pain and thrust an elbow into her jaw; she staggered back and dodged his kick. She came into view of the crowd and they cheered, she turned, hair whipping the air, and kicked with her right. King Patrick went down as soon as her foot connected to the back of his head.
The crowd howled with claps and delight, the entire courtyard was alive. Anahita wiped the sweat from her forehead and smiled, watching King Patrick grin and get to his feet.
He threw his sword away; “ladies and gentlemen!” he roared and grabbed Anahita’s small hand, lifting it in the air. “We have a new sword mistress, Anahita Meerad!”
Anahita smiled with wide eyes. She caught sight of someone in black, just behind the King. She peered around his shoulder and breathed in; Ren stood clapping his hands, laughing at... King Patrick! For a second she thought he wasn’t going to do anything, just stand there and sulk like she was sulking with him, but he didn’t. He just ignored her and clapped a few more times at his dear uncle and turn to leave.
Anahita wriggled herself free of the King and pounded after Ren, he had been standing at the mouth of a dark tunnel in which there was no light and probably no end. Anahita followed nonetheless, the heat in here made the air damp and she almost gagged, there was no sound from anywhere. Where could he be?
Running she found herself deep within the tunnels depths, the space around her was getting rather narrow, and she slid sideways and felt the sizzling rocks scraping against her chest and back. Hissing painfully, Anahita managed to pass the narrowness and found herself in the presence of a wooden door. Without hesitation, she pushed it open and squinted. Sun hit her again and she was in another courtyard, looking around hastily she saw him then- walking amongst the benches.
Anahita ran, he ducked down but she pounded forward and grabbed something furry.
Looking down she saw a black cat who hissed at her, she let go of the tail and smiled apologetically.
“You’ve made a new friend.”
Anahita whirled at the voice, Ren sat back on a bench with his hands locked behind his head, eyes a bright blue. She stood there, allowing the sun to hit her harder than it had ever done. Finally she sighed and began to fidget with the hem of the shirt Ulrika had given to her; the jacket was up in the chamber bedroom given to her last night.
“Na,” she muttered. “Just a silly cat, animals and humans can never be friends.”
She heard the cat purr against her leg and laughed, “Maybe just one animal friend.”
They were silent for some more time; the cat got bored and walked away. It was odd, very odd to not be talking.
“Ren,” she looked down at her shirt and realised that while fiddling she had torn some of the fabric. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday, it was foolish I know-”
“Anna,” he interrupted and leaned forward, removing her hands from the torn fabric. “Come sit here.”
He helped her over the bench and gave her a seat, she rubbed her hands together. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he laughed. “It is I and my uncle who should be, I did not want to apologise even though uncle told me to before breakfast. But I did not attend, I am deeply sorry for upsetting you yesterday, including today.”
She smiled, “that’s what I call a stubborn gentleman.”
He returned the smile, “You’re what they call the new sword mistress. Well done out there.”
“Thank you,” she began and then looked around. “What is this place?”
This courtyard was smaller than the other; it was a sandy colour with a round battle field, unlike the other one which was square. There was a stage in the centre and an axe-
“The execution site,” he told her. “No one comes here, the tunnel you just chased me through had chains on the walls, and you could not see them of course. Prisoners and other people who were lined up to be beheaded stayed there hungry for approximately twenty-four hours, made your father’s job easier.”
“How?” she asked, confused.
“When one does not eat, the throat settles down and is much easier to cut off.”
She cringed, “that’s disgusting. On the happy side, Ren, I’m satisfied that I know what my father’s real job was. My mother always told me that he was a butcher, I didn’t know he did this kind of butchering.”
He sighed lazily, “parents can be very provocative, they lie and you believe them like angels. Your mother didn’t want you hating your father; she wouldn’t want you doing that now.”
Anahita looked up into the sky, pigeons high enough to touch the heavens. She knew that Ren and his uncle should have kept it a secret still, but she needed to be informed about it sooner or later. Partly happy and partly sad, Anahita struggled to set her emotions on one gap. With everything happening so quickly, Ren helping her escape the horrible Queen Concetta, travelling through the Charm Forest, coming face to face with a Black Spectre... meeting Ulrika-
“Boron and I are heading off tonight,” Ren pulled her back into the present. “We need those golden gravestones, my uncle really hates delays, and he usually starts to break things.”
Anahita angled herself awkwardly on the bench and winced as the sun buzzed her eye, if Ren and Boron were going to go back to Persia, they were going to meet Ulrika on the way. Ren had promised that he’d bring Anahita along the next time he was travelling, looks like that promise was broken. She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was her duty to stay here and teach the girls how to defend themselves. It was also her job to check on the King, she was his guardian now. Her duties were to report to the King about issues around Arabia, fights between families and other personal related issues. She thought of it a hard job, but King Patrick told her she only had to report to him in the evenings, so she had all day to train girlies.
“When will you be back?” she asked curiously.
He shrugged, “I don’t know. Boron is a slow traveller; he doesn’t like teleportation, so I think we will have to walk the whole way. When we teleported, we were quarter way across the lands. We did it twice, right?” she nodded. “It’s not like I can teleport whenever I like, I have to make markings in the air that connect the currents together, like in the centre of a room where everything generates from. Making the markings takes days, Anna; it is not an easy job.”
“Give me an estimated time, then.” She was stubborn to the core.
He rubbed his eyes, “maybe a few months, I am not so sure. The Queen might jail me, kidnapping her head slave. The judging is averages of two months, if I am not back by winter then you know that I am behind heavy iron bars.”
Anahita knew what the prison in Persia looked like, small rooms covered in damp moss, a wooden bed with no personal hygiene. No bed covers and no pillow, there was no toilet and no bath tub! Ren would be given a cold shower if he really needed one, he would be given mouldy bready and beaten every day. Anahita cringed, and then remembered his state when he approached her in the kitchen.
“When you came to the kitchen,” she began with a sore voice. “Why were you in such a hideous state?”
He glanced sideways at her, grinning. “The one that is speaking looked more horrendous than I.”
“Answer me, Ren.”
He raised his hands in surrender, “OK! I was beat by the guards because I was watching over you getting beat, I told you before, remember? I said I saw you getting whipped and kicked around, I knew it would be you who could be a good fighter and a guardian for the King.
“You’re precious to the King now, Anna, and me. So what you suffered through, I had to go with it as well.”
She frowned, “meaning you got yourself beat on purpose?”
He nodded, “I had to, and it was a must. You would not understand, if you had to do things that killed you instead of another, Anna you would be fascinated.”
She looked around the stage, trying to imagine her father standing there with a smile on his face, an axe in his hand... it was impossible to imagine him as such. He was not a man of murder when he was at home, usually during the summer he’d come with meats in his bag- human meat?
“Did you know my father well?” she asked, watching him trace an invisible letter in the air.
“Indeed,” he replied with a nod. “He accompanied me with some of the tasks, brave man. Soul and heart in one, brilliant, one thing let him down. He was a murderer. He told me so he loved blood, but he also loved talking about his little Anahita.”
She smiled, looking away quickly. He caught her staring past the benches and into the wide streets of Arabia; the tears rolling down her cheeks were falling off her chin and tapping gently onto the knuckled of her right hand. She sniffed and went to rub her eyes, but he turned her around and made a funny face with his nose crunched up like a piece of paper, his lips drawn back to show the white rows of teeth, eyes wide open in comparison to the tunnel entrance. She collapsed with laughter; he too joined in, just to make her feel happy.
When she got her bearing back, she spoke more confidently.
“Never mind my parents, I need to go back to the courtyard, everyone must be wondering where I am. We will talk of this some other time.”
He nodded and they both stood, together they climbed over the benches, racing to the bottom. Ren was quicker, so he waited at the base, ordering a race out of the execution ground and tunnel.
Anahita knew she couldn’t beat him, seeing him run like a flash in the past two to three days felt like defeat already. She couldn’t risk it, even thought he knew he would win. Anyhow, anyway, they raced. Funny thing, Ren wasn’t running with crazy legs, in fact he was running at the same pace. It felt odd seeing him like that, all normal Ren Talon.
The tunnel stank, there was that narrow space which they squeezed through and then there was that open sesame. Anahita was in the lead, but then they both came to a halt at the same time. The King stood with his hands on his hips at the mouth, his face a deep frown mixed with question and confusion.
Ren bit his lip and went to speak, but his uncle raised a hand to silence him. They followed Patrick when he walked away, the training ground was almost empty. The students stood to one side, waiting for their teacher.
“You may start teaching however you wish, Anahita.” King Patrick jutted his chin. “Food will come to you; feel free to take as many breaks, you must report back to my chamber this evening.”
Anahita nodded her farewell; Ren stuck close to his uncle and vanished from the lower gates. She inhaled and exhaled, turning as the last breath flew out. The girls were all small, some chubby and some thin to the bone, allot like Anahita. She jogged to them and smiled.
“Good morning girls,” some of them cheered. “I am your new teacher, you may call me Anahita. Now, I want you all to take out a scythe.”
Every girl turned to the wall and removed the biggest blade of them all, green handled and silver bladed, and Anahita fetched one for herself.
She felt the weight and grinned, “First lesson. Defence.”

Lunch came in large plates, the sun was so high up in the sky Anahita and the girls were all sweating head to toe. They washed their hands and went to eat, the rice was spicy and warm, fresh smooth orange juice chilled their insides. It was all very tasty, but sadly they got back to training as soon as possible. The scythe was making Anahita’s arms ache, every time she set it down her shoulders would scream, the crook of her elbow would crack back into shape. She taught them how to spin out of action, left leg back and right leg swinging over the hip to give you mass effect. All the girls learned quickly, asking questions and demonstrating their own ways. Anahita was very proud; she congratulated them with a choice of their own. They all asked if she could tell them her life story so far, this made Anahita hesitate.
What harm could it be upon you? She asked herself.
So she set the girls in a circle just before sunset and began telling the tale of her lifetime.
At first the girls were all calm and cheerful, but when it came to the flood- they all went solemn and sad.
“My parents died,” she explained. “It was horrible losing them; I was taken in by Queen Concetta. She’s the lady that rules Persia; she’s a sinner to her last heartbeat. She took us Arabians and hurt us like we were rubber, children, if you ever come across her; kill her.”
With that, she got up and ran to the Castle.

SIX

KING Patrick was waiting in his chamber, more alike his living room. Lush white walls, glittering floors and shining candlelight’s, the place was like an earthly heaven. The chairs and tables were a quality Anahita had never seen before, clean wood and dazzling leathers.
Two guards stood silver stiff from head to toe near the door, such neatness, such perfection.
He had his back to her, so she slipped out again and made for her room. She bathed quickly and took a silk black dress from the wardrobe; it was too long for her, so she searched for some shoes. She couldn’t even move properly, the cold from the dress stinging her skin. It was too tight for her liking. She found a pair of black heeled sandals and slipped into them, she tied her hair back into a loose bun, allowing curly strands to fall about the frame of her face. She hurriedly applied make-up, checked herself in the mirror and grinned.
The arms of the dress were full sleeved, creasing and overlapping; the neck of the dress was covering her entire neck, making her feel secure and royal. From her hips downwards the flare was so fiery that when she edged left, the whole thing opened up like a fan.
Anahita hurried back to the chamber and entered with a gentle push to the doors, the guards bowed to her, she waved it away.
“Come here,” King Patrick looked up and pointed happily to a chair opposite him, the table decorated with candles and foods.
Anahita nodded and walked forward, someone was sitting in the seat just beside the one King Patrick had pointed to. They were slumped down, relaxing, playing with a knife. Anahita pulled the chair out and sat; the woollen base of it felt like soft clouds.
“Enjoyed your day?” Ren asked, not taking his eyes off the twisting knife.
He was in his armour and cloak again, the back bag at his feet. He looked slightly troubled, but showed no more until he smiled at his reflection in the plate.
“Yes,” Anahita nodded, “the most fun I’ve had in years.”
He shrugged lazily and sat up straighter, “well, that’s good to hear. Uncle, I am rumbling like an empty tank of beer!”
King Patrick laughed, “Then we must eat! Your journey starts soon, let’s make it enjoyable.”
So they began their dinner, allot of vegetables and pastries stuffed with cheese and onions. The warmth of them slid down Anahita’s throat and settled to one side within her stomach. King Patrick and Ren talked about their own adventures, half way through Boron joined them and rushed for the food. He too wore dark gear, swords and archery equipment clung to him like dangling shreds of intestines. The clang of metal echoed about, reminding Anahita of the servant call back in Persia. She couldn’t imagine being back there, she couldn’t return.
Never.
Anahita wanted dinner to last as long as she would live, but sadly her prayers were useless bags of air. She had finished her plate before everyone else and watched them intensively, taking in their features and differences. She hadn’t known either Ren or his uncle for long, yet she felt although she belonged here, with them. She felt like family, she felt warmth, peace and relaxation, home. She hadn’t felt like home in over two summers, this was all thanks to Ren.
A couple of minutes later, King Patrick and Ren had also finished their food and stood. Anahita scrambled up and followed them out the door. They weren’t saying much, just exchanging glances and smiling silent words. They walked through the castle and down the steps, into the open space where she had first met Boron and seen the images of princes and princesses; queens and kings.
Boron hurried up from behind, his boots like soft thuds against the carpet. He leaped the last few steps and glided from between Anahita and the king. He hurried to the front doors and turned, grinned and shook his weapons.
“You seem excited,” Ren frowned. “What’s the hurry?”
Boron beamed, “You said that we would have to leave before sunset to avoid any form of contact with others. Now come on, the sun’s almost down!”
King Patrick stopped walking, so did Anahita. Ren joined Boron’s side and sighed.
“Well, looks like we’re actually doing this. Eh, uncle?”
“Sure,” replied the king. “Say hello to Concetta.”
“Anna,” Ren called. “Don’t worry about me, OK? I’ll be untouched when I return.”
Anahita smiled, turned and went up, “Sure you will.”
* * *
Ren and Boron left, King Patrick stood standing in the doorway of the Castle, arms folded and eyes wide. People watched them walk on the street, news travelled fast in Arabia. Some waved, some cheered, and many stood shaking, looks of sympathy on their faces.
Ren smiled and waved, trying to look at casual as ever, but a feeling inside him kept plugging his thoughts, kept telling him to turn back and stay. Boron wouldn’t understand; he wanted this for years; it might be his last chance to visit the outside world, to free himself from Arabia.
Someone threw an apple and Ren caught it, bit in and cringed.
Sweet as the emotions drifting through his body.
Boron laughed and put his fingers in his mouth, blew out a sharp whistle and the gates tore open. Black horses came galloping from the towers and both warriors jumped on, swinging their legs and leaning forward. Ren narrowed his eyes and grinned, raising an eyebrow at the same time. Boron glanced at him, and it hit him.
Ren was going out there for revenge.
Throughout the years of planning this, Ren Talon was waiting for this moment to strike, he was hungry for blood. Not many knew about Ren’s history, his true past.
No one wanted to know about his brutal life, the thirsty sacrifices he made and the tortured souls he carried around on his shoulders.
He wasn’t a merciless human being, just rough from the inside but insanely soft from the outside. His kindness was an act; outside the shell many things look beautiful. What’s on the inside is hidden; it could be a dangerous snake or a poisonous creature.
They went straight through the whiteness.
Blinking wildly, the Charger Forest came into clear view, tall trees- black shapes. Black Spectre’s standing stiff.
Ren sighed, “I didn’t mean to let them follow us.”
Boron matched his sigh, “I know. They follow you anyway, you may not be able to sense some of them, and you may do. Black Spectre’s are clever little items. They are under no threat, look, they are asleep.”
Ren looked up, when a Black Spectre was asleep its staff was pinned to its back, the blade hanging loosely like it was made of cloth.
Silently they galloped their horses around the cloaks of the dark creatures and went on through the Forest.
At a guess, without any portals, Ren knew it would take a few months to get to Persia. Himself he could go and return within a few days. The portals skipped the time by forty days.

Ren Talon has always had secrets, dark secrets that burn him with forces that makes him cringe at his own reflection.
He is a dark devil.
He just doesn't know it yet.

TO BE CONTINUED...
With Waking the Allies.

Sneaky Peak

Thank you for those who have reached the last page of The Silent Quest #1: Taking the bait.
The idea of this book came to me when I was 11, but I never really got the chance to write it, I had many notes on it, yet again I paid no formal attention.
But when I did get to writing it, I completed it within no time.

So here is a very short sneaky peak of The Silent Quest #2: Waking the allies:


“MIKAIL!”

Ren barked; raising his sword to the dark sky, lightening caught at the tip of his blade and electrocuted his body; he twisted the blade in a large arc around himself. He felt it connect with the nearest Black Spectre, it staggered and melted into the ground, cowards.
Another Spectre came at him and he jerked back with the sword, thrusting it forward, the current of electricity curved off the tip and shot out, hitting the creature in the chest. Ren shook his head, the hair in his eyes was causing him too much trouble, and he pushed it back with one hand and used the other to stab at a silver wolf. Another two wolves leaped out from behind a tree, behind them stood three large Black Spectre’s, their blades at the ready.
Ren felt Boron come to stand beside him, he inhaled, the elder man stank of death. He glimpsed the slow purple glow of Boron’s sword, his own energy from Mikail was fading, and the deep blue was now a soft sky blue.
“I take the wolf on the left and the spectre behind it,” Boron’s whisper was hoarse. “You take the right wolf and the two Spectre’s.”
Ren sighed, took a deep breath and gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. Boron did the same, and then both men raised their swords to the skies and cried the name of the angel they need power from.
“Izrael!” in unison and they tore forwards even as the darkness shot down from the sky, into their swords...

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 05.12.2011

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
It took me a long time to write this novel, and to be honest i could not do it without you. This one is for my family, who took care and who have always loved me.