Page 33 of Keeper of the Flame: Orrick

“Orrick?” said Corbett, cocking his head as Orrick turned around. “What happened?” He glanced around quickly and when he was sure no one could hear them, he continued. “I thought you were going to the garden – as Sir Rick, to see Lady Hope.”

“So did I,” he spat, tightening the straps. “But it seems I am incapable of holding on to my shapeshifting form lately. I don’t know what’s happening to me. This has never happened before.”

“So, are you saying your powers are weakening?” asked Corbett.

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” In his old sorcerer form, he hoisted himself up into the saddle. The leather creaked and so did his bones. Being old was starting to get on his nerves.

“Where are you going and how will you find out?”

“Don’t breathe a word of it to anyone, but I am going to check up on the Eternal Flame.”

“The Eternal Flame?” asked Corbett, a bit too loudly.

“Shhhh,” Orrick warned him, holding his finger to his lips. “No one can find out about it. It has to remain a secret.”

“I had no idea all these years you even had such a thing. Where is it?” he asked.

“It is better if even you don’t know the answer to this, Lord Corbett. You said so yourself. The power of the flame is strong and dangerous. It’ll attract a man to it, and sometimes it plays with one’s mind.”

“What does that mean?” he asked with a chuckle.

“It means that I have held the flame for way too long. I’m afraid something is happening to me because of it, but I’m not sure what.”

“Orrick, now you’ve got me really confused. That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“None of it makes sense,” Orrick told him, taking the reins and turning the horse around. “If it falls into the wrong hands, it could mean suffering and death for those involved, so you need to keep this a secret.”

“Suffering and death?” Corbett shook his head. “I thought you said the flame makes one immortal.”

“Aye, but only the Keeper of the Flame, and no one else.”

“Then what are you so secretive about? You are the Keeper.”

“I’m afraid the flame will be stolen, and that will mean trouble.”

“Nay.” Corbett swished his hand through the air. “Why would you even think that someone would steal it?”

“Because,” answered Orrick, becoming sullen just to think of his past. “Because I was once that person who stole the flame when it was meant to be passed on to the next Keeper.”

“So you weren’t supposed to be the Keeper of the Flame?”

“Nay.”

“Well, who was?”

“I don’t know,” Orrick answered, his heart aching to think of that day so long ago when he was pompous and thought he could conquer the world. “I never found out. As soon as I stole the flame, the previous Keeper died without relaying the names of the next Keepers to me. And because of it, I haven’t been able to pass along the flame in over a hundred years.”

“Just choose someone and give it to them,” suggested Corbett as if the answer were that easy.

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said sadly. “The Keeper has to possess magic and be at least ten years of age. Ten is when a sorcerer’s powers really start to emerge. Only then can they handle the energy and all that goes with being the guardian of the Eternal Flame.”

“So the Keeper needs to be a child?”

“Not necessarily. But the Keeper is supposed to hold the flame for fifty years and then pass it on to the next Keeper. Usually, a younger mind is not so selfish or pompous but, instead, clearer so it won’t misuse the power of the flame. I can prove that theory is right, since I was a grown man and turned selfish at one time and took something that did not belong to me. I have been paying for it ever since.”

“Well, good luck, my friend,” said Corbett, slapping the horse on the hindquarters as it passed by. “I hope you figure out what to do.”

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