Long Before…

Rated: K+, T.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Mark Shirrefs and John Thomson.

Characters: Gareth (OC), Ashka.

Genre: family/friendship.

Warning: This is the author's prequel to "Through Gryvon's Eyes…", which is recommended to read at first. Seeing this story events had been happening many years before the TV-series or the previous story, some characters will be already familiar for the readers, and some of them will be new. For the same reasons Ashka's nature will be very different from TV-series' one, for the better. As before, comments are more than welcomed))

Story 1. Collision.

What a quiet evening… What a strangely quiet and charming evening… The forest was surprisingly calm and for some reasons these peace and quiet appeared for him just now. The weather was fine and the evening wind – cool but mild. Light windflaws, passing by, tried to dishevel the rider's long hair or to run through his horse's mane.

Gareth smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Everything was strange. Only a week ago Brey died. His old teacher, one of the oldest Spellbinders in the castle. Everyone knew this moment was to come, but somehow his death seemed so unexpected. Why? Why did the final word always rest with him?

The man realized he was near the fork in the forest road, having no idea which track to choose. Oh, what's wrong? How much longer is he going to behave like a sentimental young fool? Thinking for a moment, he turned Star to the right track…

Speaking about foolishness and sentimentality, he, Gareth, had all the reasons for the first one and for the second one. The castle was still saving the image of the past, the memories about dead Spellbinder. People were still having either a light shock, or a prolonged tragedy feeling. And it was only Gareth who felt absolutely nothing. Perhaps because he did know Brey better than any other resident of the castle? He knew that beneath the scrawny appearance and wrinkles there were a rather quarrelsome nature, a lack of patience and more than loud voice for his age. He knew that despite the death approaching, the old Spellbinder made him feel not respect but some anxious fear, just as when he was a child.

He shook his head, getting rid of these musty mortified memories. Unlike many others he felt not grief but regret. He really felt sorry for the old man, however what could he do in his twenty-six? "This is the age, Apprentice, when people should learn and still change themselves", - Brey usually said. Gareth just nodded obediently. Nobody was bothered with his opinion, such a normal thing.

The time of his Apprenticeship had been long past, now the teacher was gone also… But there was left a stupid awkward feeling that part of his life was lived in vain, in fear and strict discipline. And all these things were mixed up in his head with suddenly appearing freedom. Perhaps, for the first time in his life he owed nothing. Well, something to the Council, probably, but it does not count. While the castle had a mourning period, Gareth was still the only one touched by the events less than others. He had spent three days in the library, with no idea of what to do and where to go. The next three day he'd spent in his room, realizing that very soon somebody would have come to him and asked if he was all right. Gareth was, but it was difficult to explain. And it wasn't worth it, if he wanted to save some properties.

Keeping a neutral face, he went to the stable on the seventh day and met Regent Jal, telling him he'd like to unwind. Regent nodded with sympathy, wishing him a good day. So Gareth mounted a horse, so he went under the stone arch, so he appeared in the forest where he didn't have to control himself and play the proper game…

"Help! – he heard somewhere from the right. - Anybody! He-e-ey!"

The voice was quite strange, wheezing and harsh, like the sound of powersuit plates put together. That person had been shouting for more than an hour…

Stopping the horse, Gareth looked around, trying to see the owner of the voice. Suddenly something moved in the thicket at the hill and the girl appeared. A small and scared one, in dirty clothes with leaves sticking onto it. Leaves were also in her hair, ginger once, but incomprehensibly messy now…

They were observing one another for several moments, not expecting such a meeting at all, and then, even before Gareth had some seconds to dismount, the girl ran to him. She stumbled, fell, not noticing it, got up and continued running. She ran into the man, collided, nearly knocking him down. Gareth tried to keep his balance, not aware a child had such a strength, and was hugged immediately. Her slim arms, pale, covered with cuts and scratches, appeared from a large shirt sleeves, enfolded him as strong as it was possible. Green eyes, huge, desperate, looked at the man with fear.

"Help me…," - the girl repeated. She'd strained her voice obviously, because these two quiet words seemed more like a roar.

Gareth got confused. Not by too familiar behavior of a child – of course, there was the Untouchability law in the villages, but it never applied to children under ten. The girl clinging to him was younger. The Spellbinder looked around one more time trying to see somebody with whom she could come here and think of where from she could be. In the name of all Regents, there were no settlements around, of course, apart from Clayhill somewhere at the other side of the forest. But she really couldn't…

"Are you alone here?" – pulling himself together, he kneeled in front of her, wiping the dirt away from the child's face. The tracks on her cheeks seemed like tears that didn't dry.

"Yes, - the girl whispered, - Spellbinder, help me, please!"

Wincing, she put a hand on her throat. Gareth saw it was painful for her to speak. But since nobody was following the child from the thicket, he had to ask her some more questions.

"Are you from Clayhill, little one?"

A nod. He was glad and worried at the same time. There was a little more information, but it sounded too absurd. What does a child do so far from her home, alone, in the evening? And with her voice strained…

"Are you able to whisper?" – Spellbinder asked carefully. She nodded again, still looking at him with fear. By this time Gareth had already cleaned her forehead and cheeks and now was looking at the result.

"What's your name?"

"Ashka".

Not bad, Ashka from Clayhill. Now all he needed to do was finding her family and making a good blowing-up for such a careless attitude to their child.

"Well, Ashka, let me ask how did it happen that you are alone in the forest? – Gareth asked, smiling. - And what's wrong with your throat?"

Suddenly it seemed her glance froze, observing something in the distance. Gareth gave a start, turning around quickly, afraid that someone was standing behind him. There was nothing. Taking a breath, he looked at the child again.

"My… my mum, she… She died, - Ashka whispered, looking at him, - and dad…"

Gareth's heart skipped a bit.

"And dad?" – he helped.

"He jumped from the cliff, - the girls said, wincing one more time, - I ran away and cried for help and…"

"…and got your voice strained", - the man concluded. Thoughts were mixed up, confusion came again.

"You have nobody left, am I right? – Before she started speaking he added. - Just nod if yes".

Pause. Then a careful nod. No, she wasn't crying. Just stood in front of him, watching his face. "She'd already cried her grief", - Spellbinder thought mournfully, imagining how long the child was walking through the forest if her throat was in so much pain. How long she was looking for anybody…

He shook his head, coming back to reality, thinking of what to do now. How to act? Where should this child go? No one's waiting for her… Stop, Gareth, don't be a fool, what "go"? Just look at her, she's in shock and she hardly can speak. It's necessary not to wait, but to react.

He looked at the sky, seeing that pink-golden color was turning into blue slowly. It was getting dark, and not for his benefit.

"This is how it looks, Ashka, - Gareth said in the official Spellbinder manner, - now were are going to the castle. You need to take a bath, change your clothes and drink some potion on order to speak normally again. Don't you mind to go to the castle with me?" – he tried to make the last phrase sound not too official, hardly knowing what the child will think about his offer. Perhaps she would be scared even more… But it seemed Ashka wasn't going to leave him at all. Clasping the sleeve of his black sweater with her slim fingers, she nodded quickly, as id she was afraid the man would change his mind or disappear.

He clocked his tongue several times. Star, trained for different unexpected cases, kneeled obediently. Gareth put Ashka on the horse's back lightly and then mounted too, waiting for the animal to stand up…

Leaving his foundling with three maidservants, which hurried to boil water and prepare the bath in his room, Gareth called for Stogar from the lower level, who was making some medicine. Describing the situation with no details, Gareth made sure the healer was skilled enough to prepare a necessary potion for the child. Waiting for him to start the work after the bow, Spellbinder went upstairs, walking towards the hall of the Council. It was time for details and guesses. And actions.

Tark was sitting at the table and reading a book, he called for Jal and Larius quickly. Of course, at first they were not very happy a quiet evening had been disturbed. But Gareth had enough patience and persuasiveness to make the three of them do something after his story. More precisely, to let him do this "something".

Gareth contacted the Summoner of Clayhill, trying to find out what had happened. He heard that missed Velat had been already looked for for several hours. Something in the Summoner's voice seemed strange for Gareth. Sighing, he put on his cloak again, feeling the adventure wasn't finished yet. Whatever had happened, apparently it wasn't a good idea to discuss it through the Eyestone and make the whole court aware…

"…Lara had been ill for some time, Spellbinder. One couldn't say it was so obvious. Sometimes she went to the healer, took different potions, but who doesn't? – the Summoner made a helpless gesture. - and we understood it had been serious only several weeks ago. It was up to Velat to take care of little Ashka, he became gloomy and quiet, didn't talk to anybody… And when his wife died…, - saying nothing more, the man went forward, lighting the land with a torch, - well, he just lost his mind. He throw away the things, cried and called for Lara, moved around Clayhill like a ghost. And this morning he went away together with Ashka, we didn't notice when…"

"Why didn't you make people watch his house? – Gareth asked, searching with the others. - You saw something was wrong. And you had to take away the child!"

"Sorry, Spellbinder, - Summoner looked down obediently, - he wouldn't let us. Neither to the house, nor to Ashka. Women in the village were worried about her…"

"Not in vain, - Gareth said sarcastically, - Velat took his daughter to the rocks and then jumped down from one of them. I hardly realize how the girl got away but it is obvious her fate was going to be sad".

The Summoner felt guilty. A group of men going with then was silent. For the first time in his life Gareth, who had always been reproached for his unnecessary kindness, felt a desperate need to banish someone. Or all of them, as a good example. What sort of people are they! Such a nightmare had been happening next to them, but nobody helped, nobody went further than watching, nobody interfered. Nobody called for the Spellbinders until it was too late! And perhaps they would have saved Lara…

"We found! We found him!" – They heard from a distance. Gareth went to where the voices were heard from, climbing slowly down the rocky track. Perhaps Stogar would have healed the woman. Yes, he wasn't almighty, but Gareth was sure, this knowledge would have been enough to help Lara… Spellbinders' knowledge is more extensive than the peasants'.

Gareth felt terrible thinking of the Spellbinders. Wasn't the Order instilling respect anymore? Were people afraid of the Council so much that didn't even ask for help? And what was the reason for it – peasants' ignorance or Spellbinders? Were they so terrible and cruel for them?

"Why am I not the Regent?" – Gareth mumbled, reaching a flat ground where some people were already standing…

It was already dark when he finally went to the castle. People of Clayhill decided to take care of Velat themselves, Gareth permitted kindly. Putting off his cloak, he went upstairs and tried to guess, what was his foundling doing and what was in the room.

The room was all right. Next to the door a maidservant was waiting for him, bowing and saying that the child had been taken care of.

"… and even put to bed", - the girl added leaving her post.

Gareth dropped his jaw.

"What do you mean with "put to bed"? Where to?" – But the girl had already turned round the corner; it was no use to follow her. He had been aware that in case of need servants were fantastically fast.

The man opened the door, observing his room. And then he got it. Well of course, he had to guess immediately. Little children should go to sleep early, when it is possible. And since he hadn't given any instructions about this (well, he'd forgot, actually), maids made their own decision.

Walking into the room slowly, he carefully reached the bed. Little Ashka was sleeping, with her face nuzzled into the pillow; she was in a clean white shirt taken from his wardrobe. And then somebody coughed delicately behind his back…

"Who's there?" – Not expecting it at all, he turned around, looking at the eleven- or twelve-year-old blond girl.

"Sorry, Spellbinder, - the guest whispered. It was Marna, Tark's Apprentice, diligent and delicate as usual, - Regent asked me to look after the child in your absence. Stogar gave her a medicine to strengthen her voice".

"Thank you, - Gareth nodded, having no idea the Council would be so kind after his previous thoughts about them, - you may go, Marna, good night".

"Good night, Spellbinder", - the girl bowed and left, closing the door quietly.

Gareth had to stay there, along with his thoughts, lack of idea about what to do and the occupied bed. The Spellbinder didn't realize the child would have been in his room. On the other hand, where else she had to be if he stirred up the trouble?

Oh well, he had to start with something easy – he still can prepare a place to sleep. The man went to the armchair near the window and put his cloak onto the armrest. Then went to the bathroom and put the powersuit off, trying to make as little noise as possible. Looking for the struts and hanging it right now wasn't necessary, it can wait until the morning.

He came back to the room and reached the bed, avoiding loud sounds, afraid even to breathe. While he'd been busy with the powersuit, Ashka turned to the left side, now faced to the wall. Her clean hair was still a little wet, lying on the pillow. And only now Gareth had a chance to see how beautiful her hair was. Thick, shiny and already quite long. And this strange unique color… Gareth realized that child's hair color reminded him of the copper plates and bracelets on the powersuit. He carefully touched a delicate hair lock with his finger… But that copper was warm and tender. Straightening her blanket, he went to the armchair. Of course, his neck wouldn't thank him in the morning for such tricks. But what choice can it have?

Looking at the bed one more time, he left the candles burning on the table, in case she'd need something. Funny thing, just this morning he couldn't guess that the evening would give him such surprises and involve him, Gareth, into a story like this. Children… He hardly understood how to treat them, not to mention some long care. Of course he had dealt with children several times, but it was very quickly, episodically, riding a horse through a couple of villages, nodding kindly to one, smiling to the other. Letting a group of boys and girls greet him with happy shouts. But that's all. Brey had always told him to keep his distance, that was a rule not for discussion. Everybody in the castle behaved like this. He also had to behave like this. And tonight…

Tonight he broke all the rules at once, took the child to the castle, started thinking about her family history, and it seemed he was planning the future steps? No, that was too much! How had children to be treated in cases like this? They were brought up by somebody else, that's it. Yes, he felt sorry and took her to the castle, because there was no time to act in some different way. However that meant nothing. Perhaps there are some women around Clayhill, who could take care of the girl. Or around some other village. That was all he needed. He'd make the necessary things, he didn't have to think of what Brey would have told. No worries. Nobody asked for more.

Thinking in such a manner, Gareth wrapped up in his cloak and fell asleep…