Realm of Mindweavers: Book one: Tales of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Really?’ said Teona, her severe blue eyes boring into Zastra. ‘Well, we shall see. Defend yourself child, if you can.’

  Zastra did not have time to set her block before she felt a sharp probe inside her mind, deep and painful. However, she did not panic and used what she had learnt to push back. She saw a look of surprise pulse across Teona’s face.

  ‘Party tricks!’ huffed Teona. ‘Do you think your father will be impressed? Last I heard he was bemoaning the shame brought on him by his daughter.’

  Zastra’s heart sank at this, and as she was distracted she felt another sharp probe dig into her mind. Darkness enveloped her.

  She came round to find both Dobery and Teona standing over her.

  ‘Girl, you must learn to control your emotions,’ said Teona sternly. ‘They make your mind weak and vulnerable. What’s more, you should always have a block in place, even if you are not expecting anyone to attack you. Dobery, are you certain that this is not a waste of your time?’ ‘Quite certain, highmaster,’ he said respectfully.

  ‘Well, I shall allow this to continue, for now,’ Teona said. She then turned abruptly and addressed Dobery as if Zastra was no longer in the room. ‘I called in to talk about a problem the Grand Marl has raised, but we can discuss it after the council meeting. It’s not something to be discussed in front of children.’ With those words, the highmaster turned and stalked out of the room.

  ‘Why is she so mean?’ asked Zastra, rather chastened.

  ‘Hush, Zastra,’ whispered the old man, glancing down the corridor as he closed the door. ‘She has long ears! And we should be grateful; she could have forbidden me to teach you. We are not supposed to teach non-mindweavers how to defend themselves against us. And she was right. You must keep your guard up at all times and you are too easily distracted. Shall we leave it for today?’

  ‘No,’ replied Zastra. ‘I want to try again.’ That evening, Zastra was seated in her room trying to create a layer of fake thoughts outside her mental stone wall. This would allow a casual scan to be fooled into thinking her something other than she really was. It was an extremely difficult skill and she had not yet mastered it properly. As she was trying to pretend to be a common soldier, she was disturbed by a knock at the door. On opening the door she found Bedrun waiting, hopping impatiently from one foot to the other.

  ‘Hey there,’ said Bedrun, skipping into the room without waiting to be invited. ‘What are you up to? There’s a bit of a stir downstairs. Do you know what’s happening?’

  ‘What do you mean, a stir?’ asked Zastra, intrigued.

  ‘Well, a messenger arrived a little while ago, her horse almost dead with exhaustion. Heldrid said that he heard her say to the gatekeeper that she had to talk to the Grand Marl at once, as she had important news from Waldaria. They are in your father’s offices right now. What could it mean?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Zastra thoughtfully, ‘but I’ve heard Waldaria mentioned before. Come on Bedrun, let’s try and find out what’s going on.’

  ‘How?’ asked Bedrun.

  ‘There’s a balcony above Father’s outer office. Maybe we can sneak in and hear what’s happening,’ suggested Zastra.

  ‘But we could get in trouble. Remember last year, when you got caught listening into the teachers’ meeting?’

  ‘Yes, well, that was Heldrid’s fault. He dared me to find out who our new teacher was going to be. And I would’ve too – it was sheer bad luck that the vine broke just at the wrong time.’

  ‘You were lucky you didn’t break your neck,’ said Bedrun, suppressing a giggle. The teachers’ common room, like the schoolroom, was on the first floor of the enclosed triangular section of the castle, with windows overlooking the courtyard. This was the only side of the courtyard without a balcony, and in response to Heldrid’s dare, Zastra had climbed down a large vine that hung from the upper ramparts in order to listen in at the window. The vine had snapped under her weight, causing her to crash down and ruin one of Anara’s favourite flower beds. Zastra returned Bedrun’s smile ruefully.

  ‘You sound like my mother,’ she protested. ‘Come on, do you want to find out what’s happening or not?’

  ‘All right then,’ agreed Bedrun, and so the two girls tiptoed along the second floor balcony that passed alongside the great hall and ended above her father’s offices. Their bare feet made little noise on the polished wooden floor. They tried the door that led to a small alcove overlooking the outer office, but it would not open.

  ‘I’ll try and pick the lock,’ whispered Zastra. ‘Give me your pin.’ She gestured towards the pin that held a pink silk badge on Bedrun’s shirt; a reward, rather ironically, for good behaviour.

  ‘Do you know how?’ asked Bedrun.

  ‘Well, I saw once saw one of the grooms do it, to get into a locked stable,’ said Zastra confidently. ‘How hard can it be?’

  Unfortunately, the answer to that question appeared to be “very hard indeed” since in spite of lots of enthusiastic jiggling and thrusting with the pin, the door remained obstinately locked.

  ‘Someone’s coming!’ whispered Bedrun in panic, and indeed footsteps were approaching rapidly; closer and closer with relentless inevitability.

  ‘Quick, hide!’ urged Zastra. Grabbing Bedrun by the hand she dragged her through a nearby door that, by good fortune, opened to her desperate touch. They ended up in a dark closet, filled with brooms, buckets and other cleaning apparatus. As the footsteps paused alongside them, the girls stopped breathing and froze, gripping each other’s hands. Then the footsteps continued on down the corridor, and the girls let out shaky sighs of relief. Their hearts were still thrumming when they became aware of a dim echo of voices. Creeping to the back of the cupboard, they found a crack in the wall through which they could see down into the office below. Bedrun gripped Zastra’s hand in excitement. The crack was narrow and only a small strip of the room below was visible. However, Zastra could see the back of a black coat, which she thought looked like her uncle’s. Voices, barely audible at first, became more distinct as she pressed her ear to the crevice.

  ‘Did anyone see what happened?’ The question was asked by her father.

  ‘No one would talk to me,’ a weary female voice responded. ‘Everyone was terrified. All I could ascertain was that the body had been deposited in the night, outside the blacksmith’s, and that this was found next to it.’

  There was a sound of metal ringing on wood. Zastra pressed her eye to the crack, but the table was out of view and she could see nothing.

  ‘A dagger bearing the crest of Sendor, brother.’ Thorlberd’s booming tone was unmistakable.

  ‘Why was I not told about this?’ demanded a sharp, female voice. ‘If one of my masters was in danger, as clearly he was, why was I not informed?’

  Zastra could picture Teona’s blue eyes glaring at their target, and was glad she didn’t have to face them.

  ‘All we had were suspicions, highmaster,’ responded Thorlberd. ‘We didn’t wish to raise panic through the kingdom before we had evidence.’

  ‘Well, young Xendon has died for your evidence,’ exclaimed Teona, bitterly. ‘I demand to know what caused you to send him to Waldaria.’

  ‘Rumours,’ replied Leodra. ‘Unconfirmed tales of frightening visions and strange creatures in the Waldarian forest. We thought someone might be practicing unauthorised mindweaving and so sent Xendon to investigate.’

  ‘In matters of mindweaving, I should be your first council. My Lord, I must protest in the strongest possible terms. I must know what concerns me and my masters.’

  ‘Do not over-reach yourself, Teona, remember whom you address,’ said Leodra. ‘Perhaps we should have informed you, but these are difficult times, and we do not know who can be trusted.’

  ‘If my loyalty is being called into question…’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Thorlberd. ‘My dear highmaster, your service to this court is without question. But if a powerful mindweaver is involved, we canno
t rule out the possibility that it is a member, or ex-member, of the council, however unpalatable such a view might be. We thought it best to involve as few people as possible.’

  A dangerous silence followed, broken by the voice of the messenger.

  ‘My Lord, there is one more thing. I found this hidden in Xendon’s lodgings.’

  Zastra strained her eyes to try and see, but her view was still obstructed by the body of her uncle and the sides of the crack.

  ‘What’s happening?’ whispered Bedrun, nudging her friend.

  ‘Shhhh,’ Zastra hissed, and reapplied her ear to the crack.

  ‘Cintara bark!’ Teona exclaimed. ‘I thought we had eradicated this scourge.’

  ‘Someone has broken the law forbidding its use,’ said Leodra, grimly. ‘Our enemy is willing to risk all to achieve their ends.’

  ‘Let me look into this, brother,’ said Thorlberd. ‘Waldaria adjoins Bractaris after all. I feel the responsibility for getting to the bottom of this.’

  ‘Teona, what is your opinion?’ asked a soft voice. Zastra was jolted by the sound. She had not realised that her mother was in the room.

  ‘This is a matter of the utmost seriousness,’ responded the highmaster. ‘If cintara bark is being used in Golmeira, the dangers are deep indeed. I would suggest sending a strong contingent to Waldaria, including both mindweavers and soldiers. I shall lead the expedition myself.’

  ‘The expedition I agree to,’ said Leodra, ‘but as for you going, Teona, that is out of the question. You are needed here. Let us send master Dobery; he is a man of great wisdom and resource. I will send Morel with him, along with a full company of soldiers. Our enemy has power enough to murder one of our most valued and talented mindweavers. We will find out who is behind this outrage.’

  In the dark closet, Bedrun gripped Zastra’s arm tightly. Morel was one of Bedrun’s mothers and the proposed trip sounded very dangerous indeed.

  ‘Very well, it is agreed,’ said Thorlberd.

  ‘And send another message to the Sendorans,’ ordered Leodra. ‘I have left that situation unresolved for too long. Many of our troops are in the border regions to keep the peace, stretching our resources when we can ill afford it. We must try and reach some agreement.’

  ‘I’m not sure that is wise, brother. The Sendorans are uneducated savages, and they have no love of Golmeira or its Grand Marl. For all we know, they could be behind this trouble in Waldaria. The dagger certainly points that way.’

  ‘Anyone can plant a dagger,’ said Anara, ‘and the Sendorans do not have mindweavers. We must not leap to conclusions.’

  ‘I don’t have to remind you that any submission to Sendoran demands would be seen as weakness,’ said Thorlberd. ‘The Sendoran War is remembered bitterly by many in this land.’

  ‘Nevertheless, Anara and I feel we must pursue a peaceful agreement if possible,’ replied Leodra. ‘Of course, should Morel and Dobery find further evidence of Sendoran involvement in Waldaria, we shall take appropriate action.’

  ‘Well, it is of course your decision to make. I suggest that the Waldaria situation be kept secret. It would be unwise to broadcast our weakness, especially with the Sendorans around. No one outside this room, excepting the leaders of the expedition, should know the reasons behind this.’ At that moment, Thorlberd looked sharply upwards at the crack in the wall. Zastra gasped, jerking her head backwards. As she did so, she thought she sensed a feather of a touch in her mind. Her heart pounding, she pulled Bedrun away. They ran back to Zastra’s room as quietly and as fast as they could. Gasping for breath, they closed the door behind them and sank to the floor.

  ‘Do you think he saw us?’ wailed Bedrun. ‘He must have done. Oh, we shall be in so much trouble.’

  ‘I don’t think he can have known it was us,’ said Zastra, although her heart was still fluttering from the shock of Thorlberd’s eyes staring up at her, as well as the hectic flight back to her room. ‘He may know someone was listening, but not that it was us. We mustn’t tell anyone what we’ve heard, otherwise they’ll punish us.’

  ‘What was happening anyway?’ asked Bedrun. ‘I couldn’t hear very well, because you were hogging the crevice. What did they say about Morel and Waldaria? I didn’t catch it all.’

  With a heavy heart, Zastra told her friend what she had heard.

  ‘What was that stuff they found? Tara, or sintara bark, something like that?’ asked Bedrun. Zastra shook her head

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  Zastra called a servant and sent a message to Morel to tell her that Bedrun was staying with her and so not to worry. After talking late into the night, they finally extinguished the jula lamp. Bedrun was soon snoring gently, but Zastra could not get much rest. Too many dark thoughts swirled around inside her head.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day, the whole castle was alive with chattering and gossip. Word of the late night messenger had spread and a good deal of wild speculation was in the air. Zastra listened with a keen ear, but no one mentioned Waldaria, the Sendorans or any kind of bark, so she could gain no further information. At her early morning lesson, Dobery tutored her as if nothing had happened. Zastra wondered if he even knew he was to be sent away. Frustrated, she knew she could not ask any questions without giving herself away.

  At morning class, she sat with Bedrun, who looked particularly glum.

  ‘Any news?’ whispered Zastra.

  ‘Morel has to leave tomorrow. She didn’t tell me why, but I could tell she was not happy about it. Of course I couldn’t tell her that I knew where she was going and why. Oh Zastra, I’m scared. If someone in Waldaria can dare to kill even a member of the council of mindweavers…’

  ‘I know,’ whispered Zastra, giving her friend’s hand a quick squeeze. ‘But if anyone can look after herself, it’s Morel. You know how amazing she is at fighting skills. No one could sneak up behind her without her catching them.’

  However, Bedrun was not to be comforted and, in truth, Zastra had not much spirits herself.

  ‘Have you found out anything about that wotsit bark?’ asked Bedrun.

  ‘No,’ whispered Zastra.

  ‘I’ll ask Sestra,’ said Bedrun. Zastra shook her head.

  ‘No, you can’t. They’ll wonder why we are asking. If it gets back to our parents they’ll know we were listening last night. Perhaps we can find out in the library. I’ll go at lunchtime and have a look.’

  ‘Good plan!’ exclaimed Bedrun. ‘I’ll come too.’

  At this point Sestra, their teacher, entered the room. Everyone quietened and the lessons began. The two girls sat through the lessons on geometry and mathematics with even more impatience than usual. The instant the lunch gong sounded, they raced away from the classroom. As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, where the library was situated, Zastra had a strange sense that they were being followed. Grabbing an uncomprehending Bedrun by the arm, she pulled her past the library and into the darkness of the outer liden. Seeing her friend’s startled face, Zastra put her finger to her lips. A few seconds later, they heard footsteps proceed lightly past the opening of their passageway. They were shocked to see Rastran’s thin back, bony shoulder blades protruding, as he disappeared along the balcony.

  ‘Come out, cousin,’ he called softly. ‘I know you are here. I saw you and your fat little friend sneaking off.’

  The two girls shrank back down one of the narrow staircases of the liden. The footsteps paused, turned back towards them, and a dark shadow blocked out the light from the balcony.

  ‘What are you up to?’ he whispered. ‘Don’t think I won’t find out.’

  The girls scurried down the staircase. Keeping to the narrow passages between the castle walls, they found their way back to the kitchens and hid within the comforting crowd of their classmates.

  ‘Why does he have to put his nose in our business?’ demanded Zastra, once she had recovered her breath.

  ‘I really thought he would find us!’ said Bed
run, her eyes wide with anxiety.

  ‘Well, so what if he did? We weren’t doing anything wrong after all.’

  ‘Then why did you make us hide?’

  ‘I just don’t want him knowing what we are doing,’ replied Zastra. ‘It would be just like him to tell tales on us. We’ll have to try and go up to the library tonight, when he’s eating dinner with his father.’

  Rastran appeared at the entrance to the kitchen and looked around until he saw them.

  ‘Hello cousin,’ called Zastra, waving at him, a bread roll in her hand. ‘You are late. I think all the best stew may be gone. Did you get lost? I suppose the castle is rather confusing for some.’

  He cast an evil look at her, then took some food and sat alone at the far end of the table, shooting frequent suspicious glances towards them.

  ‘He looks annoyed,’ said Bedrun, nervously.

  ‘Oh, he’d get annoyed if an insect didn’t bow as it flew by, so I don’t think we should let that bother us,’ exclaimed Zastra, grabbing another roll.

  After afternoon lessons, Zastra and Bedrun visited the nursery and played with Kastara and Findar for a while before taking an early supper. Then, alert to anyone following them – especially Rastran – they went up to the library. It was quiet at this time of day. A couple of grown-ups were in the restricted section, but the general information area was empty. Zastra and Bedrun took up two different dictionaries, but could find nothing under “tara” or “sintara” bark.

  ‘Maybe it’s spelt “zintara”,’ suggested Bedrun. ‘Or “sindara”? Could that have been what they said?’ Despite trying all these avenues, they could not find the information they were looking for. Even the Great Book of Knowledge, which ran to three hundred volumes, didn’t appear to have any information.

  An idea struck Zastra. ‘What if we look up herbs and plants?’ she suggested. ‘Sintara bark sounds like it might come from a tree or bush or something.’