by Linda McNabb
“Davyn, you and your son have caused me nothing but trouble,” Calard almost shouted in his frustration.
“Let my son up,” Davyn said quietly.
The pressure on Zaine’s back disappeared and he struggled to sit up. It was then that he noticed that Davyn was leaning heavily on a broken tree branch for support. He looked awful, as if he had been in a long fight, and there were many holes burnt in his blue cloak.
“I guess I can wait to have a little fun later,” Calard sneered. “It’s not as if any of us are going anywhere.”
“Maata!” Zaine rang towards the spot where the tree had been.
Davyn and Calard followed and they all reached the edge of the slope at the same time. Far down at the bottom, three figures could be seen. All three were dressed in white, but Maata’s dark skin showed easily which she was. One of the others was lying motionless on the ground next to her. By the way she was draped over the body, sobbing loudly, Zaine doubted that it was Prince Theodane. And, indeed, Prince Theodane was sitting up a short distance away, clutching one of his legs. The fire had been put out by the tumble down the hill, and the crown lay a short distance from the smoking tree.
Zaine slid down the slope as fast as he could. He didn’t care about getting hurt, he had to get down there and see if Maata and Varan were all right. He reached the bottom in just a few seconds and slid to a stop just short of Maata. The crown lay a few paces away, between her and Prince Theodane. It looked more like a round of melted cheese than a crown.
“Varan broke my fall. He must have thrown himself to the bottom to get there before I did,” Maata said, as she looked up at Zaine with her face covered in dirt and tears.
“Is he okay?” Zaine pried Maata free of the prince. It took only a split second for Zaine to see that Prince Varan wasn’t good. His face was pale and his eyes were closed. His breath was coming in shallow gasps and he opened his eyes slowly.
“Get the crown, Maata.” The prince’s voice was barely a whisper. “Get the crown.”
“I’ll look after him,” Zaine said as Maata slowly dragged herself away. “Be careful though it’s probably hot.”
Prince Theodane looked up as Maata walked over to the crown. He attempted to drag himself to the crown, but his injured leg slowed him down and Maata reached the crown first. Maata picked up the bent and twisted crown and turned it over in her hands slowly. It looked nothing like a prize worthy of the fight it had taken to reach it.
“It’s cold,” Maata said quietly, as she placed the crown on her tangled mess of hair. “I don’t think it works anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Zaine asked in confusion. “What is it supposed to do?”
“It should end the spell of the rune circle when placed on the head of a contender,” Maata replied. She took the lump of gold off her head and stared at it. “The Circle of Dreams should have faded away. There’s no way to get out. We’re all stuck in here now.”
“I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home. I should have won the crown!” Prince Theodane cried, ashen-faced and eyes wide with shock.
Davyn had reached the bottom of the slope now. He knelt down beside Prince Varan, ignoring Prince Theodane' s frightened outburst.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - LIGHTNING NEVER STRIKES TWICE
The clouds above them were swirling around as if the Circle of Dreams was angry. Lightning was flashing from the sky, increasing in size by the second and lighting up the land with an eerie and colourless light.
The ground rumbled under Zaine’s feet and he looked from his father up to Calard at the top of the slope. He could tell by their faces that neither of them was responsible for the lightning or the ground shaking.
“I don’t think the Circle of Dreams wants us here,” Davyn muttered as Zaine walked over towards him. “The crown is part of the spell which created the Circle of Dreams, and now that Calard has destroyed the crown who knows what will happen.”
The lightning was getting stronger and the air crackled with sound so closely that one strike could not be distinguished from the last. All of a sudden a loud crack sounded above the rest. They all looked up at Calard. Zaine couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The lightning struck the runeweaver, flaring up for a split second and then dying away.
“Did it hit him?” Davyn asked as they stared up at where Calard had been standing.
“Something’s falling down the slope.” Zaine pointed out a small red object that was sliding quickly towards them. Zaine stepped forward as it came to a halt at the bottom of the slope. He leaned closer in the flashing light of the lightning and stared in confusion. It was a book, a runebook to be exact. It looked very similar to the one that he had inside his robe, except this one was red. The cover was worn and ripped in places and the golden rune on its cover was barely visible.
He handed the book to Davyn, who turned it over and then stared at Zaine. Davyn’s eyes widened in surprise, and the little colour that had been left in his face drained away.
“Do you know what this means?” Davyn asked Zaine, as he waved the book in the air. “The runeweavers who came in here with their princes many years ago must have been changed into runebooks when the contest was over. This is what the Circle of Dreams does to those left behind.”
Zaine felt the colour drain from his own face as he realised what his father was saying. To be trapped inside a world that was fighting against him was one thing, but to be turned into a book that would forever sit on a shelf was another. No wonder each of the books seemed to have a personality and some were longer than others. They represented the runeweaver who was trapped inside.
“But what will it do to the contenders?” Zaine asked nobody in particular.
Another crack split the air and they all spun, wondering who the Circle of Dreams was aiming at this time. Zaine’s jaw dropped. He stared at the ground where Prince Varan had been lying only a second before. A pure white stone lay there now, with dust blowing over it from the wind that was whipping Zaine’s hair cruelly into his eyes. A second stone lay next to him, where Maata had been standing, and another stone lay several feet away, exactly where Prince Theodane had been.
Zaine bent down and picked up the stone that had been Maata, and compared it to the one in his pocket. Only the colour of the gem set in it was different, as this one was blue. Now he knew what happened to the contenders. The stone he found earlier must be one of the contenders from years gone by.
Zaine had barely drawn another breath before the lightning struck again. He felt a yell of pain and anger rip from his throat as he saw Davyn engulfed in the white light.
“No!” Zaine shouted as he ran forward. By the time he had taken the three steps to reach his father, Davyn was gone. On the ground before him were two runebooks, the red tattered one that was Calard and a blue one with black smudges on it.
Zaine dropped the two stones and bent down to pick up the blue runebook that had been his father. He wept openly and Zaine heard himself cry out with anger.
He waited, knowing that his own fate was only a few seconds away, clutching the runebook tightly. But the white light did not come and he was not struck down by the lightning. The sky began to clear; the clouds drifted away. Zaine stared at the sky in confusion. Why had the circle taken the others and left him? Then he realised what his biggest fear was. To be alone. There was nothing else he was afraid of except being alone in the world, whatever world it was. The silence began to press in on him, and he looked around and knew he could not take being left here on his own. He could not even see the amphitheatre anymore. The Circle of Dreams went as far as he could see.
Zaine felt the anger grow within him. Anger at the Circle of Dreams that had struck down his father. Anger at being left alone in a world where he would go insane without someone to talk to. He began speaking a string of runes so fast that he wasn’t even aware what he was saying.
Every spell he had learnt from the old blue book seemed to string together into one as he yelled his fury at the
Circle of Dreams. He raised his arms to the sky and continued to issue his incessant string of runes. He wanted to reach up and rip the clouds from the sky and force them to strike him down so that he wouldn’t be alone.
All of a sudden, he found he was forming a new spell. One he didn’t even realise he knew. The runes echoed around the barren land as he yelled them; his voice cracking from the effort.
The ground seemed to shrink away from under him and the sky came closer. Zaine realised it wasn’t them shrinking; he was growing, and growing. The clouds came within reach and he batted at them with the now huge runebook, frustrated by the fact that it passed straight through the misty air.
Zaine reached up past the clouds with his free hand, intent on reaching the lightning. His hand struck something solid but stretchy. He grasped at it, digging one finger into it and hooking it firmly. He pulled down with all his strength and heard a ripping sound that was so loud he was almost deafened by it. He kept pulling, not caring what effect it had any more. What could be worse than what he already had?
The sky above him, dark and foreboding, cracked open. Silver light arced across the sky and split into thousands of tiny lights, cracking the sky into thousands of small pieces. Zaine knew he had ripped the very fabric of this world and he knew that it would collapse with him inside it.
He stamped his foot in frustration and wished he had found a way to free his father, Maata and the princes before he had destroyed the sky. If he had tried, he might have found a way to free them from the Circle of Dreams. But he hadn’t. He had been so intent on his own problems that he had lost any chance of that now.
The ground shook beneath his feet and echoed the destruction of what his hand had done to the sky. Huge cracks appeared in the ground and ran along with a speed that startled Zaine. A crack opened just beside him, tipping him off balance, and he dropped the runebook. The ground rumbled as the huge book landed on the rocks and Zaine released his grip on the edges of the world.
He felt himself shrinking back down to his normal size. He sat on the heaving ground with his knees tucked up against him, waiting for the world to shake apart and take him with it. Perhaps the runebook would survive, then one day someone else might realise who was trapped inside and find a way to release his father.
Zaine shut his eyes as the rumbling got louder, wishing it would hurry up, but all of a sudden the noise stopped. The shaking ceased and the wind stopped blowing dirt into his face. For several seconds Zaine just sat there with his eyes shut, sure that it was just a trick, until curiosity finally got the better of him. He could feel warmth on his face that he couldn’t explain.
He opened one eye, just a fraction of an inch, and peered over his knees. He opened his eye fully when he saw where he was, and the other snapped open as well. He wasn’t sitting on the hard, rocky ground of the Circle of Dreams. He was on soft grass which was blowing gently in the wind. He was sitting in the middle of the field, which was surrounded by stone seats – but the Circle of Dreams had gone.
Some of the crowd were still there, watching with awed expressions, so totally silent that Zaine wondered for a moment if he had gone deaf.
Zaine stayed sitting on the grass, staring in disbelief, until a voice interrupted his dazed thoughts. He turned towards the sound, trying to bring his eyes into focus. A short distance away, someone dressed in white was standing in the field of grass – Maata.
“Zaine! Are you okay? Where are the others?” Maata called out. She looked strained and her eyes were wide with shock.
Zaine stood up slowly, every muscle protesting at the effort, and brushed off his purple robe. It was a few seconds before he realised that there were more people in the field. All were dressed in white and lay amongst the tall grass.
“Prince Varan is over there,” Zaine tried to yell, but only a hoarse whisper came out, and he pointed just behind her. He hurried over to join her next to the prince’s side. After checking that the prince was still alive, they looked around at the other young men and women who were attempting to stand up although weak and disorientated.
“There’s Theo, but who are all the others?” Maata whispered.
“I guess they must be all the other contenders from previous contests for the crown,” Zaine replied croakily as he stared at them. How long had some of them been trapped in the field? Did this mean the Circle of Dreams was destroyed?
He looked around at the field and saw the massive blue runebook nestled in the long grass with the smaller red one a little further away. A huge crack in the ground had split the field into two and the crack went right through the runes burnt into the ground. It continued up the stone steps and divided the hill so that the entire castle was visible from where he stood.
Several runeweavers stood by the edge of the field but seemed reluctant to cross the runes. More were jumping noisily down the stone benches to reach the broken circle. Zaine saw his mother standing next to the circle and she did not appear at all pleased.
“Guards! Surround him!” Trianna yelled. Several guards went to step onto the field, hesitated and looked back at the red-robed runeweaver.
“It’s safe to come on,” Zaine tried to shout, but his voice had almost gone. “The Circle of Dreams is no more.”
Trianna tossed a stone onto the field. Getting no reaction, she stepped carefully over the runes.
“What have you done to the Circle of Dreams?” Trianna bellowed as she walked out into the long grass. “You have destroyed it, Zaine!”
“It needed destroying.” The disgust in Maata’s voice was clear.
“Where are we going to keep him now?” Old Master Pavil muttered angrily as he followed Trianna onto the field. “It was the only place he could be put to keep us all safe.”
“But, he’s already fulfilled everything in his life-reading,” Maata defended Zaine as the two older runeweavers approached.
“How?” the master demanded, looking less sure of himself.
“He has destroyed a world,” she pointed at the field which was just long grass now, “and he saved me from falling down the canyon – deciding the fate of the royal line.”
Master Pavil was silent for a few seconds while he considered what she had said. “But what about the masters of the books? What does that mean?”
“I’ve no idea,” Maata replied. “But it doesn’t sound like it’s a threat to anyone, does it?”
“I guess not,” Master Pavil grudgingly agreed, but Trianna just glared at Zaine.
Zaine turned to the huge runebook and walked towards it.
“The masters of the books…” he muttered to himself as he walked around the huge blue book that had been his father. Now that it was this large, he could even make out the stars and moons that had decorated his father’s blue cloak in real life. As he reached the bottom of the book he stopped and stared. What he had always thought of as a golden dot at the bottom right corner of all the rune books was not just a dot; it was a rune circle.
Zaine bent closer and placed his finger at the top of the rune circle. He began to trace the runes, saying them in a hoarse but firm voice. He completed the circle and stepped back. What would it do? He recognised some of the groupings of runes, but not all of them. A wave of nausea forced him to sit down and his vision blurred for a few seconds.
A crack of thunder made Zaine look up sharply. He cringed as he expected a bolt of lightning to strike him down. When he looked back at the book it was gone and standing in the flattened grass was a very battered-looking Davyn.
“Father!” Zaine got up and almost threw himself at Davyn.
“Easy now, son,” Davyn said, as he leaned on Zaine for support. “I feel like I’ve aged a few hundred years today.”
“What did he do?” Trianna was glaring suspiciously at Davyn and the remaining red runebook.
“He freed the master of the book,” Maata replied, looking pleased to see Davyn back. “Zaine is no threat to anyone anymore.”
Trianna scowled, looking far from co
nvinced. “Who won the crown? The Circle of Dreams faded out of view just before you all reached the crown.”
“I did,” Maata said proudly, and bent down to pick up the melted and twisted crown. “But it’s a bit damaged.”
“A bit? It’s destroyed. Did Zaine do this as well? He seems to be good a destroying things,” Trianna snapped as she took the deformed crown with its golden dragons barely even visible.
“Calard was responsible for that.” Davyn was quick to defend Zaine. Trianna just scowled.
“I suppose I’ll have to repair it,” Trianna muttered. She tucked the crown inside her robe, turned and stalked from the field without a backward glance. She was followed by all the runeweavers except for Davyn and Tercel. Several of the castle guards were helping the white-clad contenders off the field, and Prince Varan was being carried carefully by more guards.
“Bring back my runeweaver! Free him from the book.” Prince Theodane had dragged himself to his feet and was being supported by Tercel. He pointed to the last runebook in the grass – Calard.
“I think he can wait a while,” Zaine replied, pulling his own green runebook from inside his robe. “I’ve quite a few to get through before I get to him.”
“There’s a crowning ceremony to organise as well,” Davyn said with a smile at Maata. “The others may not have seen it, but we know you were first to reach the crown. The crown will know who was first to place it on their head. It will only accept the winner as the next ruler.”
Zaine put one arm around his father, the other arm around Maata, and turned to leave the Circle of Dreams. The tattered red runebook was left for Tercel to collect, as Zaine, Maata and Davyn crossed the broken rune circle that had been the Circle of Dreams.
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Timeweaver
Circle of Dreams
Book 2
Linda McNabb