Chapter 6
Reign of Tiryam Edgarro
The City of Fairrod, Astoria Grove
Orion Manor
Year 736, Winter
He left before she could protest. Huffily, Frey tugged on her boots and pulled one of the tunics Harrod had gotten for her on over a white cotton shirt.
"Now he comes," she grumbled to herself as she fetched her cloak from its hook. "Not at any sane time of day but in the dead of night. I reckon he really is mad." Frey fastened the metal buttons and left her room.
Grouchy though she was from being woken up so abruptly, Frey couldn't help feeling eager. Was she starting her lessons finally? Orithin was slipping down the steps with those long legs of his and she had to hop down two at a time to match his pace. He steadied her when she nearly tripped over the cloak's length.
"Careful," he said in a low voice.
"It wasn't on purpose," she replied hotly.
He put a finger to his lips, drawing her eyes to them. "Don't want to wake the house."
With a start, Frey realized it was the first time they had spoken properly in weeks. "No, we don't," she told him happily.
"What are you so happy about?" In the dark, she couldn't see his face but the lilt in his voice told her he was smiling.
She shrugged.
They made their way outside. Though Fairrod didn't see snowy winters—indeed, snow was a mythical thing she hadn't even heard of before last week when she read about it—the nights tended to be chilly. Frey shivered and moved closer to Orithin, letting his taller frame shield her from the wind.
"We're here," he said at last, when they were a fair ways away.
"Where are we?" she murmured, looking around. It was about several hundred yards away from the house but in the dark she couldn't make heads or tails of anything. If she had come here alone she would have gotten lost.
"This place is heavily protected," he answered, sitting down on the ground. "Charmed," he added. "Any spells or magic we do here won't leave the bounds—about a hundred yards in any direction. It's also soundproof." Orithin shouted the spell for light and the clearing brightened considerably. Frey winced at the sudden outburst.
"Is there a reason we had to do this at night?" Frey asked, plopping down in front of him. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn't as cold here. It was like the gardens behind the manor—somehow warm and touched by a light breeze reminiscent of spring. Suspecting it was magic, Frey didn't question it. Her hands played absentmindedly with the blades of grass around her.
"This is a good time as any," he replied, shrugging. "I like to do magic when the world around me is asleep. It's my favorite time of the day. I should say night." He held out his hand. "Your right palm, if you please." Frey, blushing, put her hand in his palm-up and waited. He stared at it intently and said, "Inpertendene." Swirls of blue light shone from her palm, wrapping lazily around her arm, stopping just short of her elbow.
Frey watched in amazement, entranced by the twirling threads of azure, laced with shadows. She was surprised to see disappointment on Orithin's face and tried to calm her sinking stomach.
"This is why I had you meditate," he sighed, releasing her arm. The light vanished.
"What's wrong?" Frey frowned, turning her hand over this way and that. No traces of the magic was left. "What was that spell you used?"
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"It creates concrete manifestation of your magic."
"I don't—"
"It makes it so that you can see your magic," he explained, a touch of irritation in his voice. "And it only went up to about here." He touched where the blue swirls had stopped. "That tells me you haven't been meditating properly."
Frey jutted out her chin, vexed and more than a little offended. "And you couldn't have explained it to me before? 'I'm being called away so meditate for today'—that's all I heard from you. We barely spoke—I had no idea what to do. Meditating is hard, and I don't like doing it. If you had told me why..."
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, making her scowl. "No one likes meditating, but it's important. The better you can do it—well, let me show you." He repeated the spell, this time on himself, and concentrated. Coppery red flames—not swirls or thread but flames—began from his palm and engulfed his arm. In a moment, it looked like Orithin himself was on fire. The brown-red flames rose from his shoulders like wings.
He released the spell and scratched the tip of his nose, no longer glowing. Her scowl deepened. Now he was just showing off. Orithin gave her a rueful grin and squeezed her knee. Even though she was mad at him, her stomach did a little flip. He was giving her a look that a dog would give when begging for scraps, and she found it hard to refuse. "I'm sorry, wizling. Don't be so cross. You're right. I should have been clearer with my instructions. It's just that I've had a lot on my mind at the moment." He ruffled her hair and stood up, pulling her along with him.
"What are we doing now?" They were standing so close and the clearing so quiet, she could hear his heartbeat. Her own heart raced as she considered whether or not he could hear hers.
"Going back," he said, tweaking her nose.
"What?"
"Hold on—" Frey was whisked away through that swirling gray mist. Her stomach lurched as they stood on the ground again. It was a shorter journey so it hadn't taken very long but she felt nauseous all the same. It definitely wasn't her favorite mode of transport.
"Why did you bring me there in the first place?" she wondered out loud as they walked back inside the house. "And you couldn't take me there like that before? Why did we walk?" It wasn't a complaint but rather curiosity that drove her to ask so many questions.
"I want you to meditate there from now on," he said. "It's spelled to keep visitors out and the quiet will help you concentrate. I was planning on doing more today but I think meditation will do you some good."
"Wait—you want me to go find that place on my own?" She stared.
Orithin squeezed her hand, and Frey realized she was still holding his. She let go, afraid he would feel how clammy it was. "You have it in your memory. Try to remember where it is." Frey tried, and to her amazement, she recalled every turn they had made to get to the clearing.
"How...?"
"A little trick of magic I thought up," he told her cheerfully, dropping her off at her floor. "Frey?" he called after her in a loud whisper, making her pause and turn around, her head cocked to the side. Orithin had taken a few steps into the corridor, closing the gap between them. "I know you're disappointed," he spoke quietly. "But you shouldn't be, alright? You're doing really well. Work some more on that meditation. I was short with you earlier but I forgot something. You're just a student—and one just starting to play with magic. You're so much more mature than I was at your age. And you are really just a wizling yet. Most people have a hard time getting their magic to show even past their wrist but you've managed on your own somehow." A slight smile colored his eyes. "And without help from your dreadful teacher at that."
