by Linda McNabb
Silence fell as the three youths and the old weaver turned their attention to the night sky, expecting to see more shooting stars but hoping that they wouldn’t.
“Surely there’s something we can do?” Maata said. As a princess she was used to being able to fix things rather than sit by and watch them fall apart.
“If we knew where the link to my world was, we might have a chance,” Guyan said with a sigh and walked back into the dark castle.
Zaine followed, and lit a few lamps to bring some light to the extended night-time. As he lit the last one, he turned to where Guyan was sitting on an oversized cushion.
“The circle was destroyed by the lightning of the storm dragons,” Zaine pointed out. “All that is left is that piece of glass.”
Guyan shook her head. “No, that was just a mirror image of the real one. Somewhere in this world is the real link. It looks exactly like the circle that was here. The weavers of my world couldn’t use the real one as there was something blocking it, so they created a copy of it that only went one way.”
“So all we have to do is find the original circle and we can go and see what the problem is?” Maata asked, looking brighter at the prospect of fixing things.
“I had the storm dragons search for it for almost a hundred years when I was trying to find a way to send Jelena home. Even they could not find it.” Guyan paused. “It was supposed to be very close by, as the weavers needed to create it as close as possible to ensure a good link. I have searched this valley a hundred times but I cannot find it.”
“How long do we have?” Aldren asked the question they all were afraid to ask.
“It’s impossible to tell,” Guyan answered quietly. “A month, a week, maybe only a single day.”
CHAPTER THREE - FIXING TIME
Light was just creeping over the horizon as they reached the top of the steps which led out of Land’s End valley. Zaine wasn’t surprised to find that the inhabitants of Summer Castle were all up and about. The night had gone on for almost twice as long as it should have.
They all paused to wait for Aldren to catch his breath. The old runeweaver had never fully recovered from being trapped in a runebook for several hundred years. In the year since Zaine had freed him, the old man had got much better, but it was clear he would never be in full health again.
Two people were leaving the castle and heading towards them. Even in the grey half-light Zaine had no trouble recognising the figures. The tallest one was his mother, Trianna. Her thin frame was wrapped in her fur-trimmed red robes to ward off the cold of winter, and she walked forward at an urgent pace that showed she was angry. As light crept further into the sky, he could make out her flame-red hair flying out behind her as she hurried across the courtyard towards him. A step behind her was Davyn – slightly shorter and walking almost as fast, but not with the same agitation in his step.
“We were coming down to the valley to see you, Guyan,” Davyn said as he and Trianna stopped beside them.
“What has he done this time?” Trianna snapped. Her question was directed at Guyan, but her eyes flicked to her son and back.
Zaine wasn’t surprised that his mother thought he was to blame. She always blamed him for anything that went wrong.
“Nothing,” Maata replied in Zaine’s defence.
“The night has lasted too long,” Davyn said, cutting Trianna off as she went to speak again. “Do you know what has caused this?”
“The timeweavers of my world are not tending time as they should. Something is wrong there,” Guyan said.
“But it will be fixed now that morning has come,” Trianna said in a tone that demanded agreement. “We need to crown Princess Maata this morning.”
“We have more important problems at the moment,” Maata replied, her eyes flicking up to the sky. “It will not matter who rules if we cannot fix time.”
“Guyan, you once said that Zaine was a timeweaver,” Davyn pointed out. “Can he fix it?”
Zaine looked up at the sky that was lightening so very slowly. How was he expected to fix this?
Guyan’s expression did not change. She shook her head slowly. “In Zhan, my world, it takes a dozen timeweavers to control time for each world. Zaine is but one timeweaver. I have yet to be tested, but I feel I might well be one. If only I could help – together, we might have a chance.”
Guyan opened her right palm and held it up for everyone to see. The black cross that marked it was easily seen; it prevented the rune-marked princess from using her runes.
“So tell him the runes and he can do it on his own!” Trianna snapped irritably.
Guyan stared calmly at the angry runeweaver. She tipped her head slightly to the side as if she was considering the woman’s request. Trianna’s face coloured deeply as Guyan continued to stare at her. After a long pause, Guyan nodded briefly. “It is difficult, but at least he can try. We don’t really have any other options left.”
Zaine wasn’t terribly comforted at his friend’s apparent lack of faith in his ability. However, he allowed Guyan to pull him slightly away from the others. She pointed to one rune on her arm, then to one on her leg. Then she tilted her neck and ran her hand along a row of runes under her chin.
“You must do them in this order, without pausing, or they could have the same effect as unpicking a timeloop wrongly,” Guyan explained as she ran through the sequence of runes again.
Zaine tensed a little. No wonder she was hesitant at him trying the runes. If he got it wrong, the entire world would shatter into motes of time to float forever as echoes of what once had been.
“Usually they would be drawn at the edge of the circle, but we don’t have one. So saying them is the only other choice.” She paused and looked at him seriously. “Don’t get it wrong.”
He tried to tell himself that the world didn’t have much longer anyway, and even if he failed it would be better than time just stopping – wouldn’t it?
“I’ll do my best,” Zaine said, not sure he could be of any help at all, but knowing he had to at least try.
He took a deep breath. He felt everyone’s eyes on him. A dozen people had come out of Summer Castle and they all stood watching. He swallowed his doubts, closed his eyes and concentrated on the runes he had memorised. It wasn’t a hard spell. The runes were all familiar to him, but he had not used many of them before. If he’d had time to run through a few practices he would feel better about it, but he knew that he did not. He gathered all the courage he could muster, and spoke the runes as forcefully and as clearly as he could.
As he fell silent he looked over at the waterfall, where the sun was just peeping over the horizon. Had it worked? The sun still seemed to be taking forever to rise above the horizon. It looked as though it were floating in the waterfall. He felt a surge of weariness and had to lean on Guyan for a few seconds. He had never before felt so drained after saying a spell.
“We won’t know if it’s worked for a little while,” Guyan said with a shrug. “And even if it does, it will not last long. That is why we have a dozen timeweavers for each world. It is a constant battle to keep time steady, and it takes a lot of energy.”
The silence that followed was broken by the arrival of a carriage travelling at great speed. It thundered across the courtyard, looking as though it might continue right off the edge of the cliff.
Zaine was about to take a step back out of the way when the driver pulled hard on the reins and brought the two black horses to a stop. The carriage came to a halt only a few paces from where Maata and Zaine stood.
The carriage was that of Prince Theodane, who lived in the north. No doubt he was here to lay claim to the throne. Because the crown had been destroyed over a year ago, when the royals were competing for the throne after the death of Maata’s father, a new ruler had not been chosen. It had then been agreed, reluctantly by Theodane, that the people would choose the next ruler. However, arguments over who to choose had seen Theodane storm off to his castle in disgust.
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p; Now, the driver stepped down and opened the carriage door. Prince Theodane, pale-skinned and dressed in the customary white of royalty, stepped down to the cobbles. A single glance took in those around him, and he let his gaze settle on Maata.
“It has been a year and the people still haven’t chosen a ruler – now do you see that the only way to settle who is to be ruler is with a contest?” His tone suggested that he already considered himself the winner of any such contest. He walked towards the princess with a less than friendly expression.
“We will discuss these matters at the weavers’ council,” Davyn said, heading off Theodane and holding out one arm to direct the prince to the castle.
A red-robed weaver had stepped from the carriage and was now a step behind the prince. Zaine knew this weaver well; Calard was the prince’s personal runeweaver, and he had once bought Zaine for a jar of silver coins.
“When is the council meeting?” Calard asked. His long ponytail of thin brown hair was tucked into his red cloak, and he shivered in the cold morning air. “We have important matters to discuss.”
“We will eat first,” Trianna said, scowling at Calard and turning to head for the castle.
“There is no time for food,” Davyn argued firmly. “We need to find a way to fix time permanently before we do anything else.”
Trianna didn’t reply, but her stubborn expression said she had other ideas. Maata was obliged to follow them into the castle, but Zaine and Guyan stayed in the courtyard. Davyn helped Aldren up the steps, as the older weaver looked about to pass out from the strain of coming up from the valley.
A second, shabbier carriage rolled into the courtyard, and half a dozen weavers poured out of it. Zaine was sure it could not have held any more when one final weaver stepped down to the cobbles.
“Tercel!” Zaine cried out. He had not seen the dark-haired youth since Tercel had returned north with Prince Theodane After a shaky start, the two boys were now firm friends. “How long can you stay?”
“Hopefully a long time,” Tercel said, grinning at them all. “I’m going to ask if I can study under Davyn instead of Calard. Then I can stay when they go back north.”
“Or as long as we have got,” Guyan said, glancing at the slowly rising sun.
Tercel looked confused, and Zaine told him about the problems with time.
“I thought the night was awfully long. I just figured I was confused with such a long trip,” Tercel said. “So you’ve fixed it now?”
“We’ll see,” Zaine said, wanting to change the subject. He didn’t like being solely responsible for saving his entire world.
“I suppose we should go in and see what they’re talking about,” Tercel said, placing one hand on Zaine’s shoulder and the other on Guyan’s.
Guyan turned back towards the horizon and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The sun was definitely rising over the waterfall, and at what Zaine imagined was a normal speed from her pleased expression.
“It may not last long,” she warned, “but at least we have time to think of a way to fix it.”
The three friends headed into Summer Castle with a lighter step. It hadn’t taken long for news of the latest arrivals to spread, however. Every weaver seemed to be waiting in the large reception hall by the time they arrived. Zaine, Guyan and Tercel stood at the back of the room where they could see what was going on but would be out of most people’s way.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” Zaine commented to Guyan as several weavers noticed him and scowled.
“I doubt they want me here either,” Guyan said with a shrug as she pointed to the runes on her skin that most people found unnerving. “I’m not leaving. I want to see if they can think of a way to fix time, and I also want to see Maata crowned.”
Two seats had been placed on a dais at one end of the hall, and seven weavers were already standing behind the chairs. Finally, Maata and Theodane entered the room and stepped onto the dais. The room fell silent as the two royals sat down.
Trianna immediately stepped forward. She stood looking at the gathered weavers, who were wearing all imaginable colours of robes, and her eyes eventually rested on Zaine at the back of the room. Zaine tried not to let her angry gaze upset him, but he shifted restlessly until she looked away and addressed the crowd.
“We were to gather here to discuss the continuing of the royal line,” Trianna said, pacing across the dais and letting her red robe flow out behind her. “But it seems there is a more pressing matter. Time … appears to be slowing down.”
She stopped pacing and again her gaze flicked over to Zaine. It was an accusing glare that made him flinch. The room erupted into a babble of questions and shouts. More than a few weavers turned to follow Trianna’s gaze, and Zaine found dozens of eyes upon him.
“Did the boy do this?” someone shouted.
CHAPTER FOUR - A NEW KING
“Of course he did,” another agreed. “Look what he did to Willow Castle! It used to be a magnificent castle, and now it’s just a pile of stones and rubble.”
Zaine would have liked to have argued that he hadn’t actually caused the destruction of the castle, but he knew they would not listen. The storm dragons had been angry at him – the castle had just got in the way!
“Didn’t his life-reading say he would destroy the world?” a third weaver’s voice shouted above the rest.
“It did.” Trianna’s quiet voice cut through the hub-bub; she paused until they fell silent. “He has brought this upon us.”
Davyn stepped forward and strode to his wife’s side. His face showed he was barely controlling his anger.
“It says nothing about damaging time,” he pointed out. “He has already fulfilled all of the predictions of his life-reading.”
“Are you sure of that?” Calard came forward to join his fellow weavers.
Davyn took a deep breath to regain his composure, and then faced the gathered weavers.
And this boy will not age past his twelfth year.
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’s hand went instinctively to the slim silver book that he carried inside his faded purple robe. It foretold his life and was the reason his mother despised him so much. What had been a favour for a royal weaver – a reading of a new-born child’s life – had turned out to be his sentence to a life of misery and rejection.
Silence fell on the crowd as they all tried to work out if Zaine had indeed done all he had been predicted to do. Davyn let them consider this for a minute, and then continued.
“He has learnt more runes than most of us will ever know. He will never age again because of this,” he held up a finger as if to tick this off the list. “And he is of great power. He destroyed the world inside the Circle of Dreams at Willow Castle. He saved Maata from certain death, and he freed the masters from their paper prisons when he released them from the runebooks they were trapped in. Many of you were in those books. There is nothing left for him to do. This problem is not caused by him.”
Davyn held up his hand, four fingers and thumb extended, to show that all of the predictions had come to pass already. He looked around at the crowd as if daring anyone to argue with him. A few weavers shuffled uncomfortably, and Zaine was grateful that at least his father was standing up for him.
Trianna looked annoyed at having her prime candidate dismissed so quickly. She lifted her chin and turned away from Davyn; “That doesn’t mean he didn’t cause it.”
“Is it because we don’t have a crown?” a weaver asked.
“Perhaps. It has been written that when a crowning does not take place, then all of the runes will fail,” Trianna agreed reluctantly, unwilling to find an alt
ernative cause for the problem. Then, with a sudden tilt of the head, she declared, “We should crown Maata and see if it fixes time.”
With a flourish, Trianna reached into her robes and pulled out a golden crown. Zaine leaned forward to peer at it. He was at the far end of the room, but from what he could see it looked just like the one that had melted in the Circle of Dreams. It even had the forms of dragons intertwined around the outside.
“But the runes have not failed,” Davyn pointed out. “And we are not here to decide the crown.”
All around the room, weavers began to mutter runes. Some vanished from sight; others had bright spheres of light appear above them. Several changed the colour of the robes. Everyone’s runes seemed to be working perfectly.
“Enough!” Theodane leapt from his chair and strode forward, pushing Trianna and Davyn out of the way. The expression on the faces of everyone present showed that they knew what he was going to say; he hadn’t changed his mind on how the next royal should be chosen. “The people have had their time to choose, and they have not done so. We shall have a contest.”
Maata joined her cousin and raised one hand to silence the mutterings that had risen from the crowd of weavers.
“There is no time for contests,” she said simply. “Soon there may be no time at all.”
“Very well. We will not wait for a contest,” Prince Theodane said with the merest shrug, as if it didn’t really matter.
Calard reached into the folds of his red robes and produced another golden crown.
“If the people will not choose – and if we don’t have time for a contest – then I claim the throne!” Prince Theodane announced as he dropped to one knee and bent his head slightly to receive the crown. “Someone has to step forward and take charge. Time will be repaired and everything will be as it should have been a year ago.”
Calard quickly stepped closer and placed the crown on the prince’s brown hair. A sound made Zaine draw in a sharp breath. Singing. The true royal is known when the crown sings the song of the dragons.