Story 11. Affections.

The older Gryvon became, the more he was paying attention to the girls. At the age of sixteen he realized for the first time that Nathia, an Apprentice like him, was quite nice. And not just as an Apprentice or a companion, but as a girl.

Nathia matched her name absolutely – she was small, light, almost transparent, with big dark blue eyes. Sometimes Gryvon was sure that too strong wind could blow her off of the ground. And even the powersuit that seemed too oversized for her wouldn't help.

During the free time Nathia's hobbies consisted basically of dreaming and thinking.

"I could write poems if my father didn't determine my future, - she said to Gryvon once, looking somewhere beyond the clouds, - you know it is so exciting and heartfelt".

Gryvon never took poems seriously and had no idea how it was possible. Well, he could try and imagine them to be exciting and heartfelt. Of course if his imagination is strong enough. But the fact that Nathia could write poems if she wasn't the Apprentice seemed too doubtful. After these years he still remembered Clayhill and knew what the rural life is. This is work, hard work, constantly unhappy peasants, and constant problems with something – with crop, with hay, with damaged roof. Nathia didn't fit into such a lifestyle.

"How do you see yourself in such a situation? – giving up, he asked her once. - I mean if you wrote poems. Is there any time for it in a village?"

"Oh, Gryvon, you're so materially-minded! – the girl sighed. - You absolutely have no thirst for beautiful things".

He decided not to argue. Eventually it was her who started the poems topic, so all the objections were up to her. Nathia looked at him sadly and left, her light blond curls flapping. The youth didn't understand that, why, when he said something clever she won the battle anyway? What's wrong with this girl?

During the moments when they had no arguments about something beautiful, Gryvon and Nathia were able to coexist peacefully, walking in the castle garden or riding their horses through the forest. Nathia was able to hold her tongue and keep silent, and Gryvon, being next to her also did it quite successfully. They understood each other, sometimes being silent for an hour or longer.

After his seventeenth birthday Gryvon was allowed to go to the villages alone, without escorting Spellbinders or Regents. From now on Gryvon came home more often; he could also go to Rivertown and control collecting of tribute for the castle residents. He could also watch the order at the market place, where the peasants were making swaps. Looking at the bright procession of the locals, who were putting the goods on the tables, Gryvon realized he was a stranger here. Once boys and girls didn't run to the river, screaming, but helped their parents. Nobody bothered him with a friendly embrace, obeying the Untouchability law. And to tell the truth, Gryvon was very happy about that. What would he speak about to them? About the life in the castle? About the Apprentice's weekdays and lessons? About usage of the powersuit? It can hardly be described in several words, one should live through this all, not just hear about it. One should be on his place. Looking at his father standing aside and talking to the Spellbinders with the help of an Eyestone, Gryvon understood he would never give his place to anyone else. Why should he? He was chosen, so this is it. He got this place, not Cara next door, not Galat, this quiet boy, not Riana that was just some years younger. Oh, here she is, bu the way…

A not very tall girl, with a constant ponytail, in green shorts. She was putting the vests and shirts for children on a table. There were scratches on both her knees. Gryvon smirked. A try to climb the tree or a hunting? Riana had strict parents, but somewhere deep in her heart a romp was waiting for the right time. Sometimes she was releasing this romp, but mostly she lived as a model daughter. Gryvon observed the girl one more time, from head to toes. Very nice, and a lovely smile. When did she grow up? Or did he visit the village so long ago?

He took a sip of water from a flask on the table and continued writing down the list of the brought things. There's nothing to talk to Riana about. Boring. He could already imagine her future, - she'll start keeping the house herself, will be someone's model wife. What a nightmare. She'll be thinking just of the stocks for winter.

On the other hand, there was Nathia. This delicate creature he wanted to take away from the duel circle. It wasn't a proper place for her! And generally speaking she was just wrong. What Spellbinder will she become? Seeing the Marauders she'll just faint.

Waiting for the ink to dry up, Gryvon rolled up the parchment. Nathia and Riana. Riana and Nathia… It was good with the first one, it could be safely and simple with the second one, if he tried to do something. They were just like two sides of a powerstone and he happened to be in the center.

Gryvon took a new roll and dipped the quill into ink. There was also Ashka… Ashka, whose way was stupid to stand on. Ashka who was much older than him; who couldn't guarantee anything good, safe or especially simple. This ginger hurricane, which blew off everything, seared, burnt and destroyed.

At first Gryvon considered her as a wonderful fairy. Looking at her shining locks and wide open green eyes he remembered the stories Malie told him years ago. Something about the forest spirits that could be seen only by the luckiest person. Little Gryvon was very proud of himself. In his opinion the Spellbinder was like the character of these stories. And it meant he was the luckiest one…

Then he grew up, then she taught him. A tender fairy had a faerie temperament and was able to change her mood several times a day. Gryvon was always bewildered by such a game of contrasts and he could almost never guess the right frequency and hit the right mood. Once he had compared Ashka to the powersuit, but later he realized the comparison wasn't proper. Technically the powersuit was rather predictable. He knew that it shouldn't get wet, it has to be put on and cleaned very carefully. Speaking about Ashka – she was impossible to predict. It couldn't be boring, sometimes it was problematic just to stay next to her. Gryvon tried to understand this phenomenon and realized with horror that he likes it.

A year or two ago they had a breakfast together. They were discussing something all the castle residents were speaking about recently – a necessity to go to the new mine where a magnetic rocks output could be more successful. They had a light argument about whether it is useless or not to stay in the old mine and then kept silent. Gryvon moved his finger across his plate, making two entwined snakes out of bread crumbs. Then he raised his eyes. Putting one hand on a table, Ashka was looking out of the window thoughtfully. Sunlight was dancing on her hair, making the locks lighter than usual. Her pale skin also had an amazing golden shade now. The corners of her mouth made a slight smile… That moment Gryvon felt sorry he wasn't able to draw and portray this wonder. The Spellbinder looked really adorable.

Breaking the magical silence, she looked at her Apprentice.

"Gryvon, stop dreaming. If you finished you may go. And don't forget to put on the powersuit!"

Sighing he stood up and bowed. It was always like this! However, it was stupid to expect that even with a chance and a parchment the Apprentice would be allowed to portray her…

Somehow he finished the second roll and looked at the market place. Peasants, happy with their swaps, examined their new dresses and small house stuff. The guards were putting the Spellbinders tribute into big carts.

Shaking his head, Gryvon stood up. It seems his fate is to stand at the fork, between three affections of his. Between simple diligent accuracy, exalted sentimental tenderness and unbridled intoxicating danger. Knowing he's doomed, Gryvon understood what road he will choose. Why he liked and wanted just to be with Her – he had no idea. This road promised nothing – no hopes, no prospects, but attracted him like a huge magnet…