by Linda McNabb
So that was why his mother had asked if he was dead.
“Is this woman ever wrong?” Zaine asked, knowing that an early death was not enough to have him sent away, knowing that there was more to come.
“She is dead now, but no, she was never proven to be wrong.” Davyn looked uncomfortable and Zaine turned back to the page.
Let this child know the runes and he will come to great power.
He will shatter a world with one finger.
His anger will bring down the sky and his feet will split the ground.
The royal line will hang in the balance … and Zaine will decide its fate.
Within him rests the power to free the masters of the books.
Zaine read the words again, still not understanding what they were telling him. How could he shatter a world with his finger? And what was a master of the book? He read it a third time, the words finally sinking in but still not giving him many answers.
“And she’s never been wrong.” Zaine said it as more of a statement than a question. He realised now why they had sent him away and tried to keep him from the book of runes.
He turned the page, but the rest were blank, except for one blotch where the pen had rested, as if the old lady had intended to write more but had changed her mind.
“So what happens now?” Zaine asked, looking to Davyn for answers but seeing only uncertainty and doubt in his father’s eyes.
CHAPTER TEN - THE CIRCLE OF DREAMS
“The council will vote on that later in the day.” Davyn stood up abruptly and shoved his hands in the pockets that were set into the seams of his cloak. “If only you had been born a day later, the stars would have given you a different life. Come for a walk with me.”
“Am I allowed?” Zaine asked as he too stood up.
“Your presence here is probably common knowledge now,” Davyn replied.
“And this …” Zaine held up the book wondering what he should do with it now. He didn’t really want to hold onto it since it told of a dangerous future and of Maata’s fate as well. Was he really such a grave threat to the princess?
“I’ll put it back in my room.” Davyn reluctantly took the book and gave Zaine a look of sympathy that almost brought tears to Zaine’s eyes. “Perhaps this time she is wrong.”
Davyn spoke without a great deal of conviction behind his words, but Zaine appreciated them anyway. At least his father wanted him around.
After Davyn returned the book to the shelf in his room, he led Zaine out through several corridors to a courtyard which was surrounded by high walls. Inside the walls was an odd mixture of things that made Zaine frown. On one side was a rock face of a mountain, where no mountain existed, next to that was a lake, surrounded by mud, and a variety of ropes hanging from trees bordered the other side of the large compound.
All this was worthy of a few questions, but what made Zaine pause for breath before asking any was the bare dirt area directly before him. It was circular and showed signs of many feet having used it over the years, as the ground was covered with a dusting of finely ground soil.
Three pairs of feet were currently grinding the soil smaller with their boots, and Zaine stared at them in shock and amazement. One of them was a castle guard, fit, young and carrying a bright sword. A second young man was dressed in a white shirt and white trousers and he looked to be no more than a couple of years older than Zaine. He was light-skinned, but his skin showed years of exposure to the sun and his shoulder-length hair was bleached to a golden yellow. He looked well-muscled and strong, and he, too, had a long sword.
Their opponent, however, was being forced to evade their attack with only a short wooden stick for defence. Zaine drew in a shocked breath as a long black plait swung into view and he realised that it was Princess Maata. She wasn’t wearing the long white robe he had seen her in earlier, instead she wore a shirt and trousers of what looked like soft white leather, leaving bare her arms and her legs below the knee.
Zaine was about to rush to her aid when Davyn’s hand restrained him. He tried to pull free, but his father’s grip was firm.
“She doesn’t need your help,” Davyn assured him, as Zaine dragged his eyes away from the battling princess to stare at his father. “It’s simply a training exercise.”
For a few seconds Zaine stared at Davyn with a look of disbelief. How could this be a training exercise? He could see from here that she had a cut on her left arm and that blood was trickling from the wound. Then he noticed another man standing off to the side of the circular fighting ground. It was the tutor who had been looking for Maata in the gardens earlier.
“Training for what?” Zaine asked bluntly.
What possible reason could the princess have for needing training like this? Sweat was dripping off the princess as she ducked and fought with her less-than-equal weapon. She hadn’t noticed that they were watching as she was concentrating on the men before her.
“The contest.” Davyn’s reply was short and distant as he, too, watched the battle before them.
The princess seemed to be tiring and the men advanced on her. Zaine had great difficulty stopping himself rushing to her aid as the men raised their swords for what seemed like a final blow. The princess dropped to her side and swept the guard off his feet with her legs while supporting herself with her hands on the dirt.
The guard fell heavily and his sword flung out across the dirt, but the second attacker jumped out of the way and crouched, ready for another attack. Maata was up on her feet in less than a second and had scooped up the fallen guard’s sword in just another second. She stood over the guard with the tip of the sword at his throat, her breath coming in short gasps. The man dressed in white was advancing slowly, forcing her to circle the guard, while still keeping the sword point at his throat.
“Stop there! You’re taking far too long!” A voice snapped, and Maata turned to glare at her tutor.
Zaine didn’t blame her for the look of anger that she shot at the small man. Could the tutor have done better? Zaine doubted it.
“You were beginning to run out of energy. You were too tired, too soon. Another minute and Prince Varan would have had you on the ground.” The tutor clasped his hands behind his back; his monotone voice grated on Zaine’s nerves.
“I was faking it to get them where I wanted them!” Princess Maata blurted out in her own defence. She stalked over to the side of the training ground and raised the sword menacingly at her tutor, making Zaine wonder if she would actually attack the man. “I’m not tired!”
“Then scale the rock … three times,” the tutor said, his face totally emotionless.
The princess dropped the sword at the small man’s feet and glared at him mutinously for several seconds before she turned and stormed off in the direction of the huge rock face.
“Guard, follow her up and make sure she doesn’t slow down,” the tutor ordered the guard who was still dusting himself off.
The man in white, obviously Prince Varan, went over to stand by the tutor and watched the princess stalk off.
“Come on, we shouldn’t disrupt her training.” Davyn pulled a reluctant Zaine away.
Zaine couldn’t help but look back as he was pulled into a corridor. Maata was beginning to pull herself effortlessly up the almost sheer rock face.
“Why was she fighting a prince?” Zaine wondered if it were common practice for opponents to train together.
“He is her cousin and he lives down in the valley. He will not be contesting the crown, so he has spent the last few years helping Maata prepare,” Davyn replied. “It’s just as well he won’t be after the crown, because in a fair fight he’s about the only person who could beat her.”
“I thought the contest was between the runeweavers,” Zaine said, as he followed Davyn down yet another corridor which looked the same as all the others he had seen. It would be easy to get lost in here.
“The runeweavers are there to battle with their magic,” Davyn explained. They emerged out of t
he door by which they had first entered the castle earlier that day.
“They fight each other?” Zaine asked, wondering what a magical contest like that would look like.
“No, they fight the dreams of their prince or princess.” Davyn didn’t elaborate, even though Zaine looked confused. “I’ll show you.”
Zaine followed his father out of the castle and across a large expanse of grass which lay behind it and then up a slope. When they reached the top of the hill, Davyn paused and waited for Zaine to take in the scene before them.
The ground dropped away at their feet into a crater, which was filled with rows of stone benches. Down in the center was a flat field of grass, a perfect circle. Davyn began walking down the hill, using the benches as steps and Zaine followed, wondering what they could be going down to look at for it was just an empty field.
“The contest is held here,” Davyn said as he reached the bottom seat and remained standing on it.
Zaine looked at the field again. Now they were closer, he could see a circle of runes burnt into the ground at the edge of the field. He leaned even closer and examined the runes. He knew every one of them and was surprised to see that there were some from the last few pages he had learnt. He did not know what they did, of course, and he looked at Davyn for an explanation.
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘There’s nothing to fear but fear itself’?” Davyn asked gently as he bent down to pick up a small stone from the ground.
“You told me,” Zaine replied, and Davyn nodded as if he remembered doing so.
“Here those fears are what the runeweavers, and contenders for the throne, do battle against.” Davyn casually cast the stone into the air, directly across the field.
Zaine saw the air shimmer before him. A dark, forbidding landscape appeared, streaked with lightning and with more shadows than light. A shiver ran down Zaine’s back.
The stone landed on the ground and the air shimmered again, the grass circle returned, and only the echo of the thunder told Zaine that he hadn’t imagined it all.
“Whatever thought passes through the contender’s mind when they are in that land becomes reality. The things that scare them the most will be there before them, and it is the runeweaver’s task to keep them safe. The crown is thrown into the field and the first one to reach it is the new ruler.” Davyn was staring at the field with a look of revulsion. “Whoever created that field should have destroyed it. It’s no place to send a child.”
“And the runeweavers go in there with her to protect her?” Zaine could see now why Maata was being trained so hard, as fear was the one thing that could defeat her.
“No, the runeweavers stay out here. It is said that many years ago, before I was born, the runeweavers used to go in with their prince or princess. None ever came out again; we can only assume that they are still in there somewhere. Now the runeweavers stay outside the circle.” Davyn turned to start back up the hill, but Zaine stayed, staring at the field.
“What if Maata isn’t first to reach the crown?” Zaine couldn’t think of anything worse than being stuck in such a place.
“Only the one with the crown may leave the Circle of Dreams,” Davyn replied gravely. He turned back and looked at the field for a few seconds longer, then stepped up to the next bench.
“More like a Circle of Nightmares!” Zaine muttered as he turned his back on the field, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise and another shiver run down his spine.
As they reached the top of the hill, a pageboy came running up to them and handed a small rolled scroll to Davyn. The boy bowed and waited while Davyn read the message, then turned and ran back to the castle when there was no reply to take back.
“The council will meet at sunset,” Davyn said, stuffing the scroll into his pocket. He didn’t look happy and he avoided looking directly at Zaine. “You are expected to be there.”
Zaine looked at the quickly setting sun and he fell into step with Davyn as they walked back to the castle. Why was it that seven strangers could decide what his fate would be? Well, not all of them were strangers. One was his father, another his mother and Maata wasn’t really a stranger anymore. Should he count his mother as a stranger? He had never even spoken to her and she didn’t seem keen to have him around.
“Do you want anything to eat before we go to the council chamber?” Davyn asked. Zaine shook his head. Food was the last thing he felt like right now. “You’d better put your hood back up.”
Zaine did so just as they entered the corridors again, wondering what sort of ‘decision’ the council could come to. He didn’t have any idea, and visions of being thrown in a dungeon made him feel ill.
The council chambers were just another room, much like any other in the castle, but there was a large, round table with seven seats around it in the center of the room. Two men stood to one side of the room; runeweavers by the cloaks they wore. Their hoods were not raised and their eyes followed Zaine as he entered the room. Zaine recognised one of them as Master Pavil, and the old man scowled at him. Davyn pushed his own hood back, but a flick of his hand warned Zaine to keep his up.
“Wait over there for now,” Davyn said kindly, and pointed to a small bench next to the only window in the room.
Another runeweaver entered the room just as Zaine sat down. He walked over to join Davyn and the two started speaking in hushed whispers that Zaine couldn’t quite catch. Davyn’s gaze kept creeping over towards Zaine, though, so it was obvious they were talking about him.
More footsteps in the corridor announced the arrival of two more, one of them in the red cloak trimmed with fur; his mother. She paused slightly at the door as she looked across and saw Zaine sitting on the bench, then drew herself up stiffly and looked away.
“Take your seats,” Trianna ordered the gathered runeweavers. “What is keeping the princess?”
Zaine would like to have said that she was probably still halfway up a rock mountain face, but he doubted his mother would have been interested. The runeweavers all took their seats with Trianna sitting at the head of the table. One seat remained empty and they all sat in silence as they waited for Maata.
Several minutes passed, very slowly, before the princess walked quietly into the room. She was dressed in her white robes again, and her hair had been brushed out to black curls which were held back with delicate white clips. She showed no signs of the gruelling afternoon she had endured, and she inclined her head politely at the runeweavers as they all rose to greet her.
“Could this meeting wait until tomorrow?” the princess asked rather bluntly of Trianna.
“I’m afraid not, Your Highness,” Trianna said with a slight edge of panic to her voice. “Prince Theodane will arrive tomorrow and this matter must be settled before the contest.”
“Very well,” Princess Maata said with a sigh, and she settled herself into the remaining seat with a graceful sweep of her robes.
Trianna stayed standing when the rest of them sat down. She leaned her palms against the wooden table and glared at each runeweaver in turn.
“You’ve all read the life-reading of Zaine. He cannot be allowed to remain free to destroy the world, or the princess.”
She spoke as if she had never known Zaine and as if he were not in the room. Zaine pulled his legs up on the bench and hugged them close. Her voice was full of fear and Zaine knew that what people feared, they hated.
“What do you propose, Mistress Trianna?” One of the runeweavers queried as he too ignored Zaine's presence.
“Keep him locked up. He must be in his twelfth year by now, so it won’t be for long. We must keep him from knowing any runes before he dies!”
Zaine frowned. Obviously his mother hadn’t been told that he already knew the runes and that he had gained eternal life through the runebook.
“Your son was thirteen a few days ago,” Davyn told her with a snarl of disgust at her attitude towards her own son. “And as for the runes … he knows more runes than any of us could lear
n in fifty years!”
“Who taught him?” Trianna demanded angrily as she glared at Davyn.
“The book did,” Davyn replied. “It found a way to reach him.”
Trianna’s brilliant green eyes snapped around to stare at Zaine. She looked to have moved past her fear, and now hatred burned in her eyes. Zaine threw back his hood, unwilling to sit and take such a look from someone who should love him. Obviously his startling resemblance to Davyn took her by surprise, and she looked away, her cheeks colouring slightly.
“Banish him. Send him where he will not harm anyone,” Old Master Pavil demanded, standing up and waving his wooden walking stick.
“Yes, banish him!” agreed a second.
“Banishment?” Trianna said the word with a shiver that made her whole body shake. It looked to be a solution that she had not wanted, and her blank face told that she didn’t like the idea.
“I call for a vote,” Pavil demanded.
“Very well. Those who vote for banishment …” Trianna said woodenly, “… raise your right hand.”
Zaine could see that three men had voted for his banishment. He had no idea what that would mean, but surely they would need at least four to carry the vote.
“Those against banishment …” Trianna spoke quietly. Her anger seemed to seep out of her with each word.
Again three hands were raised. Davyn, the friend he had been talking to, and Maata.
“It appears I have the casting vote,” Trianna said bluntly. She looked up at Davyn and then over at Zaine. Fear still hung at the edges of her eyes, but she looked more sad than afraid now.
Zaine held his breath. Surely his mother would not vote against him … His heart began to beat so hard that the sound of it echoed in his ears. His mouth went dry as his mother stared at him and licked her lips in indecision.
“Banishment,” Trianna said, so softly that her voice was barely heard, and she sank into her seat. “Send him to the Circle of Dreams.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN - AN UNEXPECTED CHALLENGE