by Linda McNabb
Prince Varan bowed low to her and retreated back into the gathered runeweavers with his eyes remaining downcast. The runeweavers separated into two distinct groups, with one around Prince Theodane and the other around the princess, who had stepped down from the dais. Prince Varan was standing alone and, although nobody was speaking to him, they were all speaking about him. Davyn, finally seeing Zaine standing over by the door, came over to talk to him.
“You really should wear your hood up,” Davyn reproached him gently.
“Why?” Zaine asked a little bluntly. They didn’t care what he wanted, so why should he care about their rules?
“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Davyn said with a sigh.
“I thought Prince Varan wasn’t contesting the crown,” Zaine said in surprise.
“Obviously he has changed his mind.” Davyn frowned and shook his head sadly.
“Do you think he could win?” Zaine looked over at Prince Varan. He looked an ordinary sort of young man really, nothing special.
“Unfortunately for Maata … yes,” Davyn looked worried, and he shot a concerned look across the room at the prince.
Before Zaine could ask any more questions, a hooded man came towards them, his red robes swinging wildly from side to side, showing that he was hurrying.
“You stole my novice!”
Zaine took a step back at the harsh voice, as Calard threw back his hood and stared angrily at Davyn and Zaine.
CHAPTER TWELVE - RULES WERE MADE TO BE BROKEN
Zaine looked calmly at the furious Calard and saw that his shadow, Tercel, was only a few steps behind, as usual. Tercel was now wearing a robe similar to Zaine’s purple one, but with red stars and moons imprinted on it. Did that mean he had learnt the required number of pages and was now a weaver?
Zaine wasn’t worried that Calard would try to physically force him to go with him. He could defend himself with one finger now that he knew how to use the runes. He doubted it would come to that, though, as Davyn had already stepped in front of Zaine and was staring coldly at the angry runeweaver.
“He is not owned by anyone.” Davyn’s voice was quiet but firm. He obviously did not want to draw attention to their discussion.
“I paid a jar of silver for that boy!” Calard wasn’t bothered by attention at all; by the way his voice rose in volume with each word.
“My son was not for sale.” Davyn spat the words out, slowly and clearly.
“Your son?” Calard appeared surprised and at a loss for words for a few seconds, as he looked from Zaine to the hooded runeweaver and then back again. Davyn pulled his hood back and Calard took two steps backwards.
“Davyn!” Calard’s face paled to a ghostly white. He shot an accusing look at Zaine. “You never told me he was your father.”
Zaine just shrugged. The fact that he didn’t know at the time would mean he had to explain too much to Calard and he had no intention of doing that.
“Would you like a jar of silver to replace the one you lost?” Davyn offered pleasantly, but his eyes were hard and angry.
“Yours will be worthless after Prince Theodane wins the crown,” Calard scoffed. “For all I know, your son led me on that wild goose chase just to try to stop me arriving here on time.”
He shot one last venomous look at Zaine then walked off. Maata had returned to the dais and raised her hands for silence. Within seconds a pin would have been heard dropping on the floor.
“I see no reason to delay the contest for the stated two days while contenders may present themselves. All contenders,” she stared blankly at Prince Varan as she paused briefly, “have already presented themselves. The contest will begin tomorrow morning at sunrise.”
With that statement, which brought a hushed gasp of surprise from the gathered crowd, Maata stepped down from the dais and swept out of the room without looking at anyone. Zaine could tell she was about to cry. She looked scared and vulnerable.
“What exactly do we have to do at the contest?” Zaine asked as the crowd began to wander off, more than a few pausing to stare at them both for not having their hoods raised.
“We? No, I’m afraid you won’t be able to attend the contest.” Davyn shook his head and pulled Zaine over to the window. The view looked out over the Circle of Dreams as it stood empty and gave no hint of the drama that would unfold there the following day. “You cannot be near the princess at such an important time. Don’t you remember what the life-reading said? You could be the fatal blow to the royal line. No, there’s no way any runeweaver would let you near the contest.”
Zaine was about to protest that it wasn’t fair. He knew more weaving than a lot of the other runeweavers, and yet he wasn’t allowed to help. But Davyn’s next words stilled his protest as it formed in his throat.
“The contest may take an hour, it might take ten …” Davyn was staring out at the field. His voice was so soft that Zaine had to lean closer to his father to hear. “More than enough time for someone to disappear from Willow Castle and never be found again.”
“You want me to run away!” Zaine couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was true that he did not like what had been decided about his future, but he wasn’t about to run away like a coward and hide for the rest of his life.
“I do not want you to be banished into the Circle of Dreams,” Davyn said bluntly, defending his wish for his son to leave before his banishment. “Either way, you will not be near me and I would rather you were somewhere safe.”
“Tell me, why didn’t you just lie about Prince Varan being able to contest the crown? Maata obviously doesn’t want him to, so why not just say he couldn’t do it?” Zaine asked.
He had to prove to his father why he wouldn’t run away and this was the only way he could think of. Davyn looked confused for a second and then frowned at his son.
“But that would be cheating the rules… The rules are what we live by, and to bend them for our own purposes makes us unworthy,” Davyn stated firmly. Then his eyebrows rose slowly and his eyes widened as he saw what his son was showing him. “You’re right. To bend the rules of your banishment would be cheating.”
Together they turned from the view of the Circle of Dreams and walked slowly out the door. As they walked, they both raised their hoods at the same time. A rule was a rule, whether they liked it or not.
When Davyn lay down to rest that evening Zaine wasn’t in the least bit tired. His mind wandered to the two books he had tucked inside his purple robe. The green runebook had been niggling at the edges of his mind all day, almost demanding that he take it out and look at it.
Finally, knowing that the more runes he learnt, the better his chances when he was banished, he drew the book out and laid it on the table. He felt as if someone had sighed with relief as he traced the rune on the cover. The pages turned quickly as he worked his way through the book. He said the words softly so that he did not disturb his father’s rest. Zaine could not tell if his father was sleeping, but he did not want to risk waking him.
Time wore on through the night as he approached the point at which he had stopped back in the forest. It seemed such a long time ago that he had shown his father where he was up to in the runebook. He reached the unfamiliar page and concentrated so hard that the page turned on his first attempt. He felt an elation sweep through him at the success, and it seemed to echo from within the book, urging him onwards, hurrying him towards the end of the book.
As morning approached, Zaine had mastered another three pages and he made no attempt to slam the book shut when Davyn rose and came to see what he was doing.
“That’s excellent progress, about three years’ worth of study for anyone else,” Davyn said with a weak smile and a pat on Zaine’s shoulder. “The more you know, the better.”
“Why is this book thicker than the one Calard has?” Zaine asked, thinking that Calard’s would probably only have a hundred pages or so since it was so much thinner.
“I’ve no idea,” Davyn admitted. “I�
�ve never even realised that they weren’t all the same.”
“Who wrote them?” Zaine asked as he turned the book over and over, looking for any sign of a name.
“I don’t know. They’ve been around since before I was born.” Davyn walked towards the closet full of robes. “I’ll leave a guard at the door and they will follow you anywhere you want to go … except the contest.”
Davyn pulled on a clean robe, still of the deep-blue, and stepped closer to clasp his son’s hand.
“We should have at least one day after the contest before the banishment is carried out.”
“Good luck,” Zaine muttered as his father walked calmly towards the door that led to the corridor. A guard was standing outside, leaning against the wall as if he had been sleeping, but he stood to attention when he saw Davyn.
The minutes crawled by as Zaine tried to turn his attention back to the book, but the pages refused to turn, as if the book knew he was not really concentrating. The sun crept in the high window and Zaine stood up. He paced the floor as he imagined the runeweavers all gathering at the Circle of Dreams; and how Maata would be feeling. She looked worried and scared when she left the meeting yesterday. Zaine knew he couldn’t sit by and obey the rules when he could help. Surely some rules were made to be broken? He tucked the green runebook inside his robe and threw Davyn’s discarded robe over the top.
He looked around the room and found a pen and a bottle of ink. He dipped the pen in the ink and pulled up his left sleeve. He drew runes around the lower part of his arm, and, after allowing the ink to dry for several seconds; he pulled his sleeve back down to cover the runes, and stood up. He did not need a mirror to know that he would now look exactly like his father. Adding just enough years to pass as his father would get him out of the door. With a calm manner, that the guard outside should not dare question, Zaine pushed open the door to the garden.
“Keep an eye on my son,” he ordered the guard. “He’s sleeping now, so don’t disturb him. He may sleep all day.”
The guard obviously did not know that Davyn had already left by the other door and bowed in reply. Zaine walked off confidently, trying to imitate his father’s sweeping step. It was pure luck that he found the right path that led him to the front of the castle, and he emerged to see hundreds of people walking towards the Circle of Dreams. Only a few were weavers, but he fell into step behind several of them and followed silently. He could hardly believe how easy it had been, but he kept his head down and his face hidden. If people saw two Davyns they were bound to be suspicious.
By the time he reached the peak of the hill the sun had fully risen and the scene he looked down on was enough to make him pause for a few seconds. The stone seats were almost full, and the buzz of the crowd said they were expecting a good contest. Down near the bottom of the amphitheatre two groups of runeweavers stood out clearly in their coloured robes. They were spaced around the circle, and in front of each group of weavers stood one person dressed in white, the contender. Prince Varan stood alone with no runeweavers on the stone steps to help him through the Circle of Dreams. Zaine wondered how Varan would cope without help.
Zaine easily spotted Maata, by her long plait of black hair, and worked his way down and around to stand at the side of the group of weavers waiting to support her. Nobody even glanced at him as they all stared at the field of grass that looked so innocent right now.
Davyn moved off from the group of weavers and started walking towards Prince Varan. The young prince looked up as Davyn arrived and Zaine could see he was nervous. Zaine moved closer, pretending to be looking at the field, so that he could hear what Davyn was saying.
“You don’t really want to go in there,” Davyn’s voice held a desperate plea. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I’m going in,” Prince Varan replied softly, but with a determined voice.
“But you’ve never shown any interest in holding the crown before.” Davyn’s shoulders sagged as the young prince’s decision appeared final.
“I have my own reasons for going into the circle. I do not want the crown,” the prince replied, so softly that Zaine barely heard him. The effect of this declaration on Davyn was immediate and he looked both shocked and grateful.
“Take care of yourself then, Varan,” Davyn said sadly, and patted the prince on the shoulder before moving back to his place behind Maata.
Zaine followed as he tried to work out what other reason the prince could have for going into the Circle of Dreams if he wasn’t after the crown. He was still trying to work it out when a man’s voice drew an instant silence from the crowd.
“Are all the contenders ready?” A man in an official looking cloak walked towards the edge of the field and stopped next to the markings on the ground. Zaine had never seen him before and assumed he must have been chosen for his impartiality to any contender.
The man waited for each contender to nod and then drew the golden dragon-crown from his cloak.
Maata was holding her head up proudly, defiantly, and she turned her gaze to Prince Varan who stood about thirty paces to her left. It was a look that said she was more disappointed than angry, but the prince looked unconcerned by it and simply smiled at her in return.
“I will cast the crown into the Circle of Dreams. The first contender to reach it shall be declared the new ruler.”
The man with the crown raised it above his head for all to see and then threw it high into the air. It sailed across the markings on the ground and the uninviting land shimmered into view. Zaine was mesmerised by the sight of the tiny crown arching across the barren, rocky land. It soared high and reached its peak after a full minute. Zaine knew that the magical land must have had something to do with it staying in the air so long, for the man who threw it had not put much effort into it.
Distance in the Circle of Dreams seemed strange too. What seemed like a small field, about a hundred paces across, was now so large that the far side was barely visible. The people sitting on the far side of the amphitheatre seemed a long way off and they looked more like shadows on a wall than real people.
The crown finally started to descend and it floated gracefully down to rest on the top of a tree on a high, rocky outcrop that was halfway up a small mountain.
“Contestants! You may enter whenever you wish.” The man stepped back, looking immensely grateful that he wasn’t going into that horrible place.
Prince Theodane seemed to hesitate as he approached the circle of runes, and he looked nervously back at his supporting runeweavers. Calard nodded briefly to him and the young prince turned back, stepping slowly over the circle and into the gloom of the Circle of Dreams.
Maata, however, watched Prince Theodane’ s entrance with a calm, disinterested look. She turned briefly towards her own runeweavers and looked at Davyn and Trianna in particular.
“I’m counting on you,” she said in a tight, totally fearless voice. “I can’t do this alone.”
Davyn and Trianna nodded solemnly. Maata turned back to the field. She took a deep breath, as if she expected to find no air to breathe inside the circle, and stepped quickly over the runes burnt into the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - INTO THE FIELD!
The crowd remained silent as the three contestants entered the Circle of Dreams. Dark clouds rumbled across the magical sky and lightning forked, lighting up the dark ground and showing the fear on Prince Theodane' s face.
A child behind Zaine gasped as the prince fell suddenly to the ground and covered his head as dozens of bats swooped down on him. A quiet chanting from the prince’s runeweavers banished the bats and the prince stood up and began to walk slowly again.
Maata was moving more quickly, but testing each step before she committed her weight to it. She seemed unsure whether the ground would support her and Zaine felt a twinge of fear for her. Would the ground sink beneath her because she feared it? Before he had even finished forming the idea in his head, the ground rumbled loudly and split open right und
er Maata’s feet.
The crowd gasped loudly; all eyes were on the princess as she tumbled into the gaping hole. Zaine was sure that it must all be over for her until he saw that she had grasped the side of the wide crack with one hand. With the strength her hard training had given her, she pulled herself up and clambered back onto firm ground.
“What will happen to the princess if she falls?” a small child asked from nearby. The silence that met the question was enough of an answer for Zaine. He felt sick at the thought of Maata falling down the hole.
Davyn, Trianna and the rest of the runeweavers who were supporting her began to chant their runes to help her, and a bridge appeared across the wide chasm that was left by the shaking ground.
Maata briefly tested her weight on the small wooden slats that were held in place by the thick ropes, and then stepped out confidently. She had to trust the magic of her runeweavers or they would be no help to her at all – for as soon as she doubted them it would fail.
The princess was a few steps from the other end when the bridge began to fade. The wood shimmered, the ropes became transparent, and a second later the whole bridge was gone. Maata made a desperate leap across the chasm, only just making it to the other side and sending rubble down into the deep hole.
Maata ran across the Circle of Dreams again, limping slightly, and Zaine could see she had cut her leg badly. Theodane was heading for the mountain in the distance as well, but Varan was going in the wrong direction and seemed to be heading towards Maata.
The ground began to get steeper and steeper, almost rising up to stop Maata. She pushed herself as hard as she could, but wasn’t making much headway. Zaine looked to see why Davyn and the other runeweavers weren’t trying to help her. He could think of at least three ways they could help, although not all of them were in the pages that most of them would know.
“Why don’t you help?” Zaine asked the weaver next to him, and saw he was one of the ones who voted against him at the council meeting.