Story 29. Emptiness and pain.

"I give up, I give up! - He shouted, seeing the guards in the distance. - In the name of Regents, just turn this thing off!"

The ship was tailing Gryvon, firing the powerbolts several times and nearly scorching his face. Rocky footpaths were entwining and tangling under his feet, his heart was pounding loudly in his chest, and his thoughts… Oh, right now he preferred to think of nothing, concentrating on a rather lucky return to the camp.

She couldn't… That was impossible! It was some sort of a strange idiotic bad joke! That was unfair! Why?

"Why?" – He didn't even notice he said it aloud.

Of course he got his troubles in the camp. The commotions after prisoners' escape had already reached the castle. The ship was sent for him quite soon.

"This time you really failed, Gryvon", - the guards laughed, pushing him to the Tower stairs.

He didn't care. For the first time in so many years Gryvon didn't imagine and wasn't bothered with his future. There was a forest glade in front of his eyes, and those three, which were holding on the boat rails, disappearing in blindingly bright sparks. And his own shout:

"Ashka, wait!"

Strangely enough, the Council wasn't raging or storming. And was oddly quiet.

"I don't know… It seems to become a tradition, I suppose, - Lukan rolled his eyes, seeing the prisoner followed by two guards, - for an umpteenth time we are sitting in this hall in order to find out what you've done and how to deal with it".

"Lukan, please…, - sitting in the center, Marna stopped him gently, - Gryvon, where's Ashka?"

Silence.

"Gryvon, do you hear me?"

One of the guards pushed him with his elbow.

"She just vanished…, - before the next question could follow, he clarified, - she went to a parallel world with those strangers".

The Regents looked at each other.

"Was Paul one of them?" – Correon spoke.

The young man shook his head.

"No. But these people were from a different world".

"Why hadn't they been led to the castle? – Correon continued. - I ordered to send a ship for them".

Silence.

"It seems Ashka didn't plan to allow the strangers appear in the castle, - Marna laughed, looking at silent Gryvon, - am I right?"

Nod.

"And once again you did break the law, Gryvon, - Lukan concluded tiredly, - dear members of the Council, what should we do? Should we keep turning a blind eye to it? Or, perhaps, you, Correon, had been too fast with that new decree?"

"I suppose, - Marna said, - we'd better leave everything as it had been. Gryvon comes back to the labor camp and gets some extra work for trying to escape. You have to understand, Lukan, - seeing the Regent was going to object, the woman raised her hand, - we can not repeal the law. We would lose our face for the whole country. And as for Gryvon, - she looked at him quickly, - our fugitive has already punished himself. And more than you think".

All three people kept silent at once. Gryvon stood in the center of the hall, waiting for their decision obediently. He didn't care. Even if they repeal the law. Even if he's banished to the Wastelands as a good example, showing that playing to the Council may end badly. His first shy hope that everything was a misunderstanding, some terrible joke – faded. And he'd been waiting, hoping that now, yes, right now the lightnings would dance in the air once again and the boat would appear in white-and-blue sparks. That she'd just failed, had been frightened, had no time… But nothing happened. The lightnings were not dancing. The sparks were not appearing.

He gave a start and listened to the Regents discussing:

"…I can not forgive him right now, - Lukan said, - but at least Gryvon saved our country from "plague" that makes me very happy".

Marna winced, knowing whom he meant with the word "plague". The whole court knew about Lukan's harshness and lack of self-restraint.

"Let's leave everything as it is, - Correon repeated Marna's offer, - I agree that it is a best solution".

Seeing their approval, he nodded to the guards behind Gryvon.

"Take the prisoner away…"

He came back to the camp. And everything went on, but in a different way. Work-break, work-break… Gryvon tried to concentrate on the orders only, taking the fire wood, fishing, helping other people… It was like Clayhill but it wasn't Clayhill. Sometimes his self-possession betrayed him, and the anger was leaking into his soul. Why? Why did she do this to him? Wasn't he loyal? Didn't he perform all the tasks of hers, ready to go through fire and water for her sake? Didn't her deserve her trust or mercy at least?

He felt hurt. But that pain wasn't physical, it didn't go away, becoming stronger, pulsating, and not allowing to forget about it. One could think his life had already been wonderful! Sometimes, when this pain was unbearable, he thought about Her. How he wanted to change their places. And let her feel the same pain, hot and tearing. And then he crushed this feeling inside, leaving it "for later", for the next time. The anger faded, his hands started the work again. And for a sort period of time it seemed that nothing had happened. That everything is the same: work-break, day-night, river-forest…

And then it was starting all over again. And white-and-blue sparks were dancing in front of him. And the circle was closing, leaving him without an exit…

Days passed. One by one, one by one, shaped into weeks… His pain was joined by some strange viscous emptiness. The anger was till there, but it became less evident, some shades paler. Now Gryvon considered himself as a mechanism, thinking only of work more and more often, crushing the thoughts he couldn't escape from. And he succeeded. Sometimes.

Nathia, whom he did promise to think, went to Orchard for several times but never spoke about what happened. She was very quiet, throwing quick sympathetic glances at former Apprentice. Indeed, they were able to understand each other in silence, and right now Gryvon was very happy about this ability. Happy that nobody asked him questions or tried to help. Nobody pried into his feelings.

Gryvon waited… Waited for something that could dilute his monotony existence. All the days were similar to each other, identical, grey. Ordinary. Not that he had a chance to be lazy, but sometimes he felt that all the brightness of his life – everything that fulfilled and made it really significant – everything vanished. And then he started working with his enthusiasm doubled, already aware where such thoughts could lead and what could follow them.

In the camp he wasn't asked any questions. They asked for help but avoided any sensitive issues. Gryvon got used to look as he never could before – something dangerous appeared in his eyes that made people think twice before starting a conversation and choose words properly.

Time passed. In six months the news came – his father died. "He'd been unable to endure the shame" – someone in the labor camp said. However, Gryvon knew that his father, who had seen his son as a great glorious Spellbinder in his dreams, could stand anything. But did he really want…

He'd been too stubborn, proving more stubborn than his illness. He didn't want to live thinking that his child could sink so low, that he was serving the sentence so close, in the labor camp. That he'd broken the laws he used to obey to, because he was brought up in discipline. That his family hadn't notice that point of no return, when a Spellbinder's future became the future of a prisoner…

As it had happened the previous time, the funeral went without his presence. And Gryvon was very happy with it. It was an advantage of his status. Now Gryvon envied himself that he hadn't seen how it had happened…

Months passed. One by one, one by one, shaped into year… One year passed, colorless and unnoticed. Then – another one. When the third year was coming to its end and Gryvon almost got used to his "mechanical" existence, losing the track of time, time itself decided to have pity on him. Gryvon got his freedom.

At first he didn't believe. Then understanding came finally. Then he found himself at Orchard road, among the forest, thinking of where to go and what to do. First of all he had to come to Clayhill; at least, his home was there. Then he would think about other things.

Thinking that was the perfect option, he went to Clayhill. The understanding of his freedom was small and pale, meaning and promising nothing yet. Gryvon had spent almost three years in a labor camp, obeying to others' commands and orders, so now he had no idea what to do with this freedom. Stay in Clayhill? Go back to Easthill, where he'd been born? Doing as he got used to, leaving these questions "for later", he decided to deal just with the present moment now.

It was an evening. The sun went down, casting a golden light onto trees and bushes. Birds were singing somewhere. Life with all its beauty and diversity was passing by, to the right and to the left, in two bright wide lines. But the young man, walking along the path, seemed to stay between these lines, in some neutral ground, where there were no colors, birds or the brightness of the world around. Three years… Three years had passed, but it changed nothing. The anger faded, replaced by the emptiness. Some capacious painful emptiness, which seemed like the Wastelands. There was a desert inside him, and memories which didn't grow dim or fade in time. Though he did try to get rid of them.

He remembered everything. First visit of Gareth to their village, which had started the whole story. His first evening in the castle… Every single day, every bright detail. They were left in the past… In the life "before"…

He asked himself, what had happened to Her, afraid to say this name even mentally. Ashka… Where was she now? Had she ever though about him, just once? Because he had thought about her. The moments when he wasn't able to leave "for later", Gryvon was always thinking about her.

He'd been waiting at first. Then he hated, despised her. Then he waited again, trying to understand, find the detail he'd missed, realize what he did wrong. The hatred faded – the pain stayed. Sharp at first, it became dull later. As if a deep wound got scarred, reminding him of what had happened from time to time…

…The night had almost come when he reached to village. It was quiet and mild. He met some peasants on his way, looking at him strangely. Either the pretended or they didn't recognize him. Gryvon, whose hair became longer, knew he looked different. He also knew that Clayhill would be different for him.

There was no one near his house. No one had tailed him; no one was coming to him. Those people he'd met would definitely spread the news throughout the village, but at least for now he didn't have to worry about nosy people irruption or stupid questions.

Sighing, Gryvon pulled the door. Could this quiet be long?

The house was dark. Pale light was coming inside through an opened window. A person was sitting at the table near the wall, with head resting on hands. Hearing the door opening the stranger woke up and looked at him. The light from an opened door fell onto the guest's face. Gryvon gave a start.

"You?"

"Me, - Riana nodded calmly, sitting at the table, - hello, Gryvon".

They were watching each other for several moments. The girl was in the Apprentice uniform, with an accurate hair bun. She'd matured, looking even prettier and still rather serious.

Shaking off the stupor, he entered the house.

"What do I owe your visit to, Apprentice?"

Riana didn't seem to be offended by his sarcastic intonations.

"Regent Correon sent me here, - the girl explained, - today is your release day. I have to see if everything is all right…"

"And what can happen? – He asked with dramatic indifference. - Or does the Council think I'd run and be silly?"

"Gryvon, don't do this, - Riana stopped him, - I understand you don't want to see me. I must confess I wasn't also too thrilled about going here".

"So there was no need", - he snapped. He had nothing against Riana, even the moments when she, stubborn as a mule, had stood on their way. He hadn't born her ill will. But right now, here, that very moment she reminded him of those many things he had tried to hide in his scarred wound. Gryvon felt the edges of this wound gape apart dangerously…

"It was an order. Orders are not discussed, - the girl answered, - sit down, please, we have to talk".

"Riana, you'd better leave, - the young man said sternly, folding his arms on his chest, - what were you doing here, anyway?"

Girl's eyes, not too small at all, became even larger.

"What was I doing here? Gryvon, together with Arla and Jal I've been looking after your house for two years! – She exclaimed. - Now sit down and listen!"

He didn't argue, sitting down. While Riana was lighting the candles on the table, he got a chance to look around properly, realizing that his house seemed really all right. Everything was clean, the roof was good, walls, things… everything was all right and where it should be. And no signs of spider web at all.

"Thanks", - that was all he could say.

"Don't mention it, - Riana waved it off, sitting down again, - that would be a horror to come here and find these walls out of condition".

Pattering with her fingers on the table, she kept silent for a moment.

"Gryvon, the members of the Council were deciding what to do after you're released. That was difficult. It was Lukan who offered it, others approved… By and large, the Council is offering you to come back to the castle".

Gryvon thought he'd been hit with something heavy.

"What? – He breathed out. - Come back to the castle? Wait, what does it have to do with Lukan?"

"I only know that it was his idea, - the girl repeated and suddenly laughed, - maybe he will feel calm and safe this way. Or maybe it's time to change everything. You don't know but Lukan is going to leave his post in the Council".

"Oh really? And who's the successor?"

"Emerick, - Riana answered, - the order will be prepared soon. Perhaps, in the twilight of his reign he wants to put a full stop in this story".

Gryvon sniffed. If there was something he could hardly imagine, that was Lukan leaving the Council. On the other hand, it was even harder to believe Lukan was offering Gryvon to come back to the castle…

"Riana, that was a stupid idea, - he answered, - why did the Council approve it? And anyway, what will I do in the castle? I can not be an eternal Apprentice, so I can not return".

"And who's speaking about Apprenticeship?" – Riana answered with a question. Gryvon froze.

"Don't you mean I may become…"

"Not right now, - the girl said, - but why not? Eventually, you've been punished; you've paid for your mistakes. Is it fair to keep you punished forever? No, of course you may stay in the village, - she added quickly, - nobody's gonna prevent pr scold you for that. But I suppose it will be better if you go to the castle".

"Better for whom? – Gryvon looked at his companion seriously. - Them?"

"Better for you, - she objected, - I will not insist, you are free to choose. But whatever your choice is, the Council will accept it".

She stood up, ready to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To the castle, - Riana smiled, - Correon ordered me to wait for you and talk about the offer. Now my mission is accomplished".

She took a short black cloak from a bank and put it on.

"I brought some food, - she nodded to the vegetables and bread near the window, - good night, Gryvon".

"Good night, - he said mechanically when the door was closed, - Riana…"

The sound of hooves moving from the house told him that the Apprentice left. Looking at the empty and clean house, Gryvon sat down again. That was a stupid idea. What reasons did they have? Pity? Sympathy? Some other silly emotion? He had no answer and was happy with it, preferring to stay without details. But deep in his soul, in this kind of a desert with burning thoughts and memories there was a strange sudden feeling. Some sort of gratitude…

He made this decision. Not right away, no. nearly in a week. When he realized Clayhill was crushing him. In peasants passing by he saw disapproval and hatred. The Tower his legs were ready to go to was no in his dreams.

The peasants were really looking at him, - some with disapproval and hatred, some – with pity. Opinions differed. The first ones would rather have some fun, destroying the Summoner family belongings. But apparently the Regent had restricted to come close to Gryvon's house and cause any damage. All the scowling glances were usually cast from the distance.

He made this decision. He came back to the castle, having no particular idea of what to do there. He couldn't fly the ships. As well as use the powersuits. But at least nobody prevented him from visiting the library.

Books became a real outlet for Gryvon. His old textbooks, chronicles of old Spellbinders, the journals and powersuit schemes taken from the dungeons… He read everything, nearly swallowing one book by another, unable to understand, why not so long ago he'd been a silly boy who used to glance through books quickly, not thinking about his studies and not preparing for his exams.

Astronomy, geography, history… he was interested in history most of all. Sitting in his old room, near the fireplace, he was fiddling thoughtfully with a quill, which had already left some ink drops on a clean parchment. A book was clutched in his left hand, he was going to write out some extracts from it. Just in some moments Gryvon realized he wasn't writing, but… drawing. And when he realized it, a Tower had already been created, strangely realistic, with all the details. Looking at spontaneously drawn mountains behind the metal constructions, Gryvon understood it was Clayhill tower. How did he do it – he had no idea. But fact remained the fact.

Throwing the book aside, he clutched the parchment with both hands, ready to tear it and send into the fire. But something stopped him from it. Straightening a saved drawing, Gryvon put it on the table, examining closely. Then he went to the cabinet where new parchments had been kept, took one, rolling it out…

In the evening of the same day there was one more drawing next to the saved Tower – Clayhill view from the forest, covered with ink drops…

Another year had passed. The news about Gryvon's hobby, so sudden, spread through the castle. The Spellbinders hadn't had good artists among them very often, so they appreciated the young man's drawings. Some of the women even asked him to paint a portrait. Hearing these words for the first time, Gryvon had frozen, bumbling that he couldn't and wouldn't be able. Then his damned curiosity won – he tried. The result was unexpectedly successful; the second offer followed the first one. Then there was the third one. And then… Then his Initiation came like a bolt from the blue…

Gryvon felt as he had already once, when Ashka offered him to fly a ship. Was he happy? Did he feel nervous? It was difficult to say. He knew that it would happen sooner or later, when the Regents considered him as a deserving and worthy candidate. But he'd always thought it would happen later, not sooner. In some moment he felt sorry his parents weren't able to see this day…

Going to the bathroom, he looked at his reflection in a high absolutely clean mirror. His hair became even longer and covered his forehead with oblique wave. Thin mustache and a goatee made Gryvon look older. One would hardly believe he was only twenty-five. Black habit, red tunic with a shining sun of symbol on his chest… He reached out slowly, touching the smooth mirror surface. It seemed he was looking not at himself. Behind the mirror there was somebody else, a stranger. A man with no more boyish disorder in his eyes…

A dream of Malie and Aaron became true. But it took very much time in order to do it…

"Correon said that you showed him too handsome on that portrait, with a powersuit", - Nathia smiled while they were having their breakfast.

"Well, at least the powersuit looks realistic, - Gryvon answered diplomatically, - I had to work a lot on wiring".

"And you succeeded, - the girl inspired him, drinking water, - I am afraid, Emerick and Marna would also want such a wonderful present".

Chewing his roll, Gryvon gave a start dramatically.

"In this case I am condemned to hear they reject my drawings, one by one, - he joked, - Correon wasn't aware I was portraying him".

A short pause came.

"Would you like to be my model?" – Gryvon asked finally.

Nathia lowered her head shyly.

"That would be very kind. But I suppose, I won't be able to sit for so long".

"I can try and draw quickly, - Gryvon said with enthusiasm, - and anyway, I am interested in it. There's still no portrait of yours in my collection".

Nathia was really embarrassed.

"That's not difficult, don't be afraid, - the young man kept convincing her, - and it seems the portrait will be extremely successful. And as you know we understand each other in a best way by keeping silent".

Smiling a moment ago, the girl became sad at once.

"What is it? – Gryvon asked worriedly. - Did I make you upset?"

"Oh no, - she smiled. This was a fake smile, - it's all right".

Pause.

"Sorry, if you don't want, I will not speak about it", - Gryvon said carefully, thinking it was because of his offer.

"It is all right, - Nathia repeated, - the drawing has nothing to do with it".

"Then what has?"

Pause. This time a longer one.

"Nathia, tell me if something is wrong. We are friends", - in order to support her, Gryvon touched her palm. But this simple natural gesture made the girl even more upset.

"Gryvon…, - she whispered, looking at him with her eyes full of tears, - I have to tell you something".

"What is it? – The young man, shocked by her mood change, squeezed the girl's palm. - And why are you crying? Nathia, it's not worth your tears, whatever it is…"

"It is! – She sobbed, freeing her hand. - Oh it is! Gryvon, I did something terrible, really terrible!"

"What are you talking about? – The young man said, confused. - What terrible thing could you do?"

Nathia cried even louder, closing her face with her hands.

"It was me… it happened because of me… It was my fault…", - she mumbled, sobbing.

Tired of asking, Gryvon waited patiently for her to calm down. Taking her emotions under control, the girl started speaking:

"Do you remember Orchard road, when we met? You were carrying the fire wood", - she asked with a trembling voice, wiping away the tears from her flushing cheeks.

"Of course I do, - he nodded, - but what does it have…"

"It has, - the Spellbinder continued, - I was not myself. Some days earlier I was going to Orchard. And I had almost reached the river when I saw you two in the water, - Nathia's voice trembled again, - you were looking for something. You were standing so close, in the middle of the river, you embraced her…"

Tears were running down her cheeks.

"That moment I had nearly gone mad. I knew, I knew that you don't love me, but that image – it had been typed into my vision. So painfully clear. And I decided to have my revenge…"

Gryvon was listening, happy that he was sitting, not standing. His legs became weak suddenly. He listened, afraid to move.

"I made an arrangement with a guard in the camp, - the girls said, crying, - he had to tell Ashka you were waiting in the forest. And when we were there… Well, she was there too. She saw and heard everything…"

Putting her head onto hands lying on the table, Nathia cried. Bitterly and hopelessly. Gryvon sat near to her, afraid to believe that things he'd heard. Believe this nightmare. Nathia, his friend, the girl he'd known for ages. The girl that understood him even in silence…

"Why? – He said at last. - What for, Nathia?"

"For you, Gryvon, - she whispered, - for you! You have always been dear for me. I liked to look at you, hear, listen… but you've always accompanied that monster…"

"Monster? – He roared, standing up. - Monster? I have hated her for four years, considering as a betrayer that left me. Monster?"

Clutching his fists, he was walking near the fireplace.

"What have you done? – He shook the girl, making her to stand up in one movement. - In the name of Regents, Nathia, what did you want to achieve with it?"

"Gryvon, I…, - her lips were trembling, but the young man didn't care a second part of hysterics could be started, - I just wanted to quarrel you! I didn't think it could happen this way… I didn't want to lie, but I got so tired of it. Forgive me!"

"How? – releasing her, he clutched his fists again. - How do you think I should do it? You wanted to hurt her? You hurt us both! As hurt as it wasn't even possible!"

Turning from her, he went to the window slowly, leaning on the sill.

"Four years, Nathia… I didn't want to think of her for four years, - he said quietly, - I was ready to be banished for this woman. I started doing evil for her. And I was happy…"

Only now he allowed himself remember, making the burning memories in the desert accessible. Only now he understood, seeing again that scene on a forest glade… he had already made a decision, looking in his face… she had done it even earlier, telling him to wait for a signal.

"She's not a monster, Nathia, she had never been one, - he turned around again, observing his room, and then looked at the girl, - and you destroyed my life. It is you who is a real monster…"

"Gryvon, - sobbing again, the girl took a careful step forward, - I am really sorry. I didn't want to make an end like this. I thought she would come back as it had already happened. It had been this way!"

There were pain and defeat in her eyes. But Gryvon knew there were the same emotions in his eyes.

"She won't come back, Nathia, - he turned to the window again, - too late for that… Leave me alone, please; I can not look at you…"

She didn't need to be told twice. The door was closed quietly. Leaning against the window, Gryvon closed his eyes. Four years… he was late again. And again he wasn't able to change it…