The Silent Quest - IziCain (inspiring books for teens TXT) 📗

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