The Silent Quest, IziCain [red seas under red skies txt] 📗

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,