A Spell of Seven

Chapter 7

Falan picked a corridor and wandered down it. The days at the Order had fallen into a rhythm. Every morning he and Jax would report to magic training with an old earth mage who would take no other title than 'master' from the two of them, though Freya's rather disrespectful conversation with the man had revealed his name to be Garrett. It had surprised him how much Freya and Master Garrett had appeared to dislike each other, but then, Freya appeared to dislike everyone. Falan hadn't seen her since that day.

    At one o' clock they would be dismissed, and they would eat lunch in the mess hall, after which Jax would usually go out to the garage complex to explore the collection of Order technology, and Falan would either read a book on magic or roam the halls of the headquarters. Today was no exception.

    On this walk Falan was quite sure he'd wandered into the weapons area. Swords of all kinds were mounted on the walls, some of the only decorations Falan had seen in any corridor. Novice Order members could occasionally be seen walking up and down the hall with handfuls of arrows or large training dummies. Falan had asked Iris once, after he had the stitches in his chest removed, why the Order and the Brotherhood used few guns.

    "Guns are difficult to enchant and easy to enchant against," Iris had replied. "They are also loud and distinctive, and the innocent will hear them and be frightened. We do not want to risk our discovery or the harming of an unaware mortal."

    That had made sense. Now, looking at the weapons on the walls, Falan thought it was rather a historical thing too. This conflict had been going on for generations, and most of its tools were likewise ancient. Every now and then he passed a weapon in a glass case that had a plaque next to it, revealing its owner and its history. He stopped now at one labelled Sword Vir of Tristan, called Apollo. Slayer of Ithrixur, the rogue dragon. It meant nothing to him.

    Just then he heard a heated argument from up ahead. "I don't know what you have, Aiolos," said a familiar voice. Freya. She sounded like she was nearing the end of forced calm. "I told you, I used it for two days and then it shattered."

    "It should have held up," complained another voice loudly. Falan peeked around a corner to see that Freya and a man in steel armor, likely Aiolos, had come out of a room and were moving away from him. "That was made specifically for unusual situations such as yourself. It stands up to most bullets."

    "Ah," said Freya, "then I know what you did. That dummy was made for bullets, and strong blows, but it was not made for prolonged beatings."

    "I don't know what else to tell you." Aiolos was clearly taking her complaints personally.

    "I could always go back to the regular equipment, you know."

    Now Aiolos sounded worried. "No need for that. I'll find you something to work with."

    "Thank you, Quartermaster. That's all I needed."

    Aiolos pulled open a door and stalked into it, prompting a smirk from Freya. The door slammed, and Falan followed Freya as she moved down a myriad of hallways before stopping at the end of a dorm corridor. "You know, Falan, if you wanted to talk to me, you could have asked while we were still in the training area."

    "I was looking around," Falan explained. "I was under no illusions of secrecy." It was still kind of embarrassing that she'd noticed him so quickly – probably when she'd first walked out of the training room. She just smiled a little, which was so unusual in itself that it unsettled him. "I haven't seen you in a while."

    "My assignment regarding you and your brother ended right after that meeting with Garrett. I've been around, but this is a big facility, and I usually stay here or near the training rooms."