Page 45 of Keeper of the Flame: Orrick

“Hope?” Grace stuck her head inside the room again. “Noah just ran out of here like he had the devil on his heels.”

“I know,” she said, picking up the book and sticking it in her pouch. “He must be afraid of the storm. We’d better get going before Orrick returns. I have the book and we can read it in the privacy of our own chamber.”

“Hope, the torches just blew out. It’s so dark out here. I’m scared.” Thunder rumbled again and rain started blowing in through the window in Orrick’s tower room.

“We’ll take the candle to guide us.” She picked up the candle out of the bottle, meaning to cradle the flame with her hand, but she didn’t need to. As she stepped out into the breezy corridor, the flame didn’t even seem to jump. It was strong and sturdy and not affected by the wind at all. She’d never seen anything like it.

“I hear voices,” said Grace.

“Don’t be frightened,” Hope tried to calm her. “I’ll protect you. Hold on to my arm and let’s go back to our bedchamber.”

As Hope led the way down the dark, steep, winding staircase, the storm rumbled outside and hail pelted against the sills of the open arrow slit windows. The flame from the candle she held lit the area beautifully for being so small. It surprised Hope. It also surprised her how brave she felt at this very moment. It was as if no one or nothing could ever hurt her again.

* * *

Orrick made his way in the dark back up to his tower room, feeling good about the practice and only wishing the storm hadn’t caused them to stop. The last round was going so well that he was about to put Lord Irwin in his place and show him who the better warrior was after all. He knew Hope was there watching and that made him want to do it even more. Mayhap it was a bit pompous that Orrick was putting on a show for her.

He wanted her to think of him as a young, strong, dashing knight. It felt good to be able to wield a sword again with ease. Too many years in the body of an old man can make one start to think they are worthless. The only mishap on the field was when his concentration was broken. He’d turned to look for Hope to make sure she was watching and, unfortunately, Lord Irwin used it to his advantage. Once again, he nicked Orrick’s sword hand pretty bad with his blade.

It didn’t matter. The cut would be healed by the time he made his way back to the room. After all, he was invincible and immortal, being the Keeper of the Flame.

Thunder crashed outside and lightning flashed through the arrow slit windows as he climbed the winding staircase to his room. Damn, he felt tired. And the cut on his hand stung like the devil. He also felt every one of his muscles aching from wielding his sword a good part of the day. He didn’t remember feeling like this in a very long time now.

With a quick shake of his wrist he re-lit the torches in the corridor that had blown out. As he climbed the winding stairs to his tower room, his feet felt heavier and heavier with every step. What the hell was happening to him? He shouldn’t feel this bad.

He got to the door and reached out for it, but his hand stilled when he found it already open. Any other warrior would have unsheathed his sword before he went into the room, but Orrick didn’t need to. He could use his magic to protect him from any intruder.

He entered the room, seeing the flame burning on the hearth. Mayhap it was just his imagination, but it wasn’t burning as bright as before. Not seeing any intruders, he figured mayhap he didn’t close the door all the way and the wind just blew it open. He closed the door and walked in, feeling so tired that all he wanted to do was go to sleep. After removing his boots and weapon belt, he walked over to the bed, pulling off his tunic. That’s when he saw the wand he’d given Noah lying on his bed. He could also see the indentations from the boy’s feet as he probably jumped on the pallet.

“Noah,” he said, shaking his head, realizing now that the boy had snuck into his chamber again to play. He’d have to start paying more attention to the lad because when he didn’t, the boy seemed to get into trouble. Heading over to the washbasin, Orrick poured water over his hand into the bowl, then put down the pitcher, splashing water on his face as well.

When lightning lit up the room momentarily, his eyes fastened to the water in the basin that was a bright red. It shocked him to see so much blood coming from him. Normally, his wounds healed before he even had a chance to clean them.

His hand throbbed, and when he looked down at it, he realized the cut was still gaping open and the blood spilling out. It wasn’t healing!

“What the hell,” he mumbled, walking over to the flames on the hearth for more light to get a better look. Sure enough, the wound was still fresh. “Oh well,” he said to himself, emerging his hand into the fire to speed up the healing process. But when he felt the heat of the flame burning his flesh, he jumped back and screamed out loud.

“Arrrrrgh,” he shouted in pain.

“Orrick? Is that you screaming?” Lord Corbett poked his head into the room.

“Come in. Quickly,” said Orrick, holding his hurt hand. “And close the door.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Corbett, entering the room and closing the door and then making his way across the floor.

“Look!” Orrick pushed his hand in front of Corbett’s face.

“Egads,” said Corbett, jerking backward, studying Orrick’s hand. “What happened?”

“I was hurt on the practice yard and just now I was burned. Burned, I tell you.”

“How did you get burned?” asked Corbett nonchalantly.

“I stuck my hand in the fire.”

Corbett raised his brows. “All right. I’m not . . . sure what I’m supposed to say here.”

“I’m invincible and immortal,” spat Orrick. “Or did you forget?”