Keeper of the Flame: Second in Command Series - Orrick

by Rose, Elizabeth

  “Aye,” said Orrick, gripping his sword tightly. “I want to put Lord Irwin in his place once and for all.”

  “You almost sound like this is some kind of personal vendetta,” said Corbett.

  “I think it’s just my bottled up emotions finally coming out.”

  “Well, don’t kill the man because you cannot control your actions,” warned Corbett.

  “I’m a sorcerer,” Orrick reminded him from the side of his mouth. “I have more control in the tip of my little finger than that man has in his entire body.”

  “I can see there is no use in me trying to talk you out of this.”

  “Don’t even try.” Orrick stepped onto the practice field and the crowd cheered. He wasn’t sure if they cheered for him or for Irwin, but neither did it matter. Once he took the man down on the first swipe, there would be no doubt they were cheering for him.

  Well, things didn’t go quite as planned. The first swipe of his sword proved he was a little rusty. Lord Irwin got the better of him, nicking his sword hand. The crowd oohed and aahed.

  “The first point goes to Lord Irwin,” shouted the herald.

  “That’ll teach you,” sniggered Lord Irwin. “I drew first blood.” He held up his sword above his head and the crowd cheered.

  Orrick looked down to the trickle of blood on his hand. The wound didn’t hurt. They never did. And the blood would be gone in a matter of minutes. He was immortal and a mere human like Lord Irwin couldn’t hurt him.

  “I’m just a little rusty, that’s all,” said Orrick.

  “Rusty?” Irwin made a face and shook his head. “I heard you just got back from campaigning for the king overseas. What kind of warriors does Richard have that they’d be rusty so soon?”

  Orrick realized he had to watch what he said. He also knew that Lord Irwin wouldn’t stop taunting him unless he taught the man a lesson. There were three rounds in the fight, and the first was awarded to Irwin, but Orrick was determined that the second would be in his favor. If it wasn’t, the competition would be over and Irwin would be the victor. Orrick would never allow that!

  When they met in the practice field once more, Orrick was ready for the fight this time. Their swords clashed and Orrick felt as if it were all coming back to him after a hundred years. He used to be one of the fastest and most accurate warriors with a sword. He’d fought many times on the battlefield for Edward Longshanks, King Edward I, and was even one of the king’s favorites. Of course, he was admired since he’d always come off the battlefield alive and unharmed. If he hadn’t had his magic, Orrick wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be dead right now for all the silly risks he’d taken in the past.

  Self-confidence flowed through him in the olden days but that is what immortality did to a person. However, sometimes mistakes were made when fear was absent. Orrick made a mistake in his younger days. By accident, he killed off one of his fellow Englishmen on the battlefield one day, turning around too fast and being too eager to take down a Scot. He’d watched the man die by his blade to his chest, the poor soul’s eyes staring into Orrick’s as his life left him that day. It was a look filled with disbelief, sadness, and also vengeance, since the man stuck his sword into Orrick’s side as a last attempt for justice.

  Orrick never told anyone about his mistake, living with the regret of acting too pompous and, because of it, killing the soldier. It was a long time ago, and Orrick couldn’t even remember the man’s name.

  Slashing out at his opponent, Orrick gladly repaid Lord Irwin the favor, taking a chunk of flesh out of his sword arm.

  “Arrrgh,” cried the man, dropping his sword, his hand covering the wound.

  The crowd cheered this time for Orrick but, for some reason, he didn’t feel victorious. He couldn’t stop thinking about his fellow comrade he’d killed so many years ago.

  “The second point goes to Sir Rick,” shouted the herald.

  “Well, one more round and we’ll see who wins.” Orrick held out his hand to help the man up. “Let me help you . . . old man.” He chuckled at his own jest.

  Sir Irwin pushed his hand away and got to his feet. A squire ran over to wrap up the man’s wound to stop the blood flow.

  “That’s a nasty gash,” said the squire, tying the strip of cloth over Lord Irwin’s wound.

  “I left a pretty good gash on my opponent as well,” boasted Irwin. “You might want to wrap his wound as well since it’s probably going to leave a nasty scar.”

  “Aye, my lord.” The squire walked over and surveyed Orrick. “Where are you hurt?” asked the boy.

  “His sword hand,” said Irwin, walking over. “I took out a good chunk of flesh.” His eyes dropped down to Orrick’s hand and he shook his head when he realized there was no cut and no blood. “Mayhap it was his other hand I hit and I’m mistaken.”

  “Nay,” said the squire, inspecting Orrick’s other hand. “There doesn’t seem to be a scratch on him.”

  “That’s impossible,” blurted out Irwin. “I saw the blood.”

  Corbett rushed over and, thankfully, broke into the conversation. “I think we should move on to the next set of competitors.”

  “Nay! I want to find out who will win,” shouted Irwin. “The score is tied. Now let’s finish the fight.”

  “Sir Rick, I don’t know about this,” mumbled Corbett, wanting Orrick to stop fighting.

  “I say, what’s stopping us? I’m curious as to who will be the winner as well,” agreed Orrick.

  Corbett shook his head and stepped back, letting the fight continue. “No killing and I mean it,” he called out. “Now, wait for me to call out to start.”

  “He’ll have to beg for his life if he wants me to spare it,” boasted Lord Irwin.

  “Lord Corbett was talking to me,” said Orrick. Having the gift of being a sorcerer and seeing premonitions in his mind, Orrick knew that Lord Irwin wasn’t going to wait. Orrick raised his sword just as Lord Irwin’s came crashing down toward him. Metal clanked and the crowd shouted. Corbett shouted as well since neither of them waited for him to signal the beginning of the round.

  The more Lord Irwin tried to win, the more Orrick felt alive. Everything came back to him now and he felt just like that young man on the battlefield once again. His skill as a warrior was strong and he didn’t miss a step in fighting with Lord Irwin. And as the crowd’s shouts echoed in his ears, Orrick let himself go, not holding back as he fought against Lord Irwin.

  Orrick had the upper hand and it felt good. He knocked Irwin to the ground and stood over him with his sword aimed right at him. But when he saw the man’s eyes, he froze. It reminded him too much of that poor soldier that he’d killed on the battlefield.

  In his split second of hesitation, Irwin raised his sword and stabbed Orrick in the side. Orrick heard the sickening thud of steel cutting into his flesh and felt the blade slide between his ribs. However, it didn’t hurt. Orrick never felt any pain. Blood gushed out but it would be gone in a minute.

  “Nay!” shouted Corbett, running across the field to them. The women in the lists screamed and the men shouted. Orrick turned his head slightly to see Lady Hope watching in terror from the lists. She ducked beneath the wooden bar and ran across the field toward them with her sister following.

  “You bastard!” spat Orrick, grabbing the sharp blade with one hand and yanking it from his body, throwing it to the ground.

  Irwin’s eyes opened wide in surprise that he could do this. Any other man would be cut badly and be lying on the ground dead right now, or at least severely injured.

  “Dammit, what are you doing?” yelled Corbett, rushing over to the men. “I said no killing.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” spat Irwin, pushing up and getting to his feet.

  “Nay, but not from lack of trying,” growled Orrick.

  “He was going to kill me and I had to do it in self-defense,” shouted Irwin, trying to justify his action. His eyes focused on Orrick’s side. “Why aren’t you on the ground and where is the blood
I saw? Where is the gash and why aren’t your hands bleeding from pulling out the sword?”

  “Take a respite, everyone,” Corbett called out, grabbing Orrick by the arm and spinning him around. Orrick’s sword dangled from his fingers. “Let’s get you the hell out of here. What were you thinking?”

  “Sir Rick, Sir Rick, are you all right?” Hope ran up with her sister. Her eyes dropped down to Orrick’s side where he was stabbed by Irwin’s sword. There was still blood on his tunic, and the cut in the cloth, but Orrick knew his wound had already closed and healed. “Let me wrap your wound for you.”

  “I’ll wrap the cut on your hand.” Grace picked up his hand and frowned. “Where is the cut? I am sure I saw blood.”

  Orrick replaced his sword in the scabbard. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

  “Mayhap not, but I saw Lord Irwin stick his blade into your side,” cried Hope. “How is it you can even walk?”

  “Ladies, please remove yourselves from the practice field,” Corbett commanded. “The competition will start again shortly, so please go back to the lists and wait while I take Orrick back to his room.”

  “We’ll take him,” offered Grace.

  “Aye, let us do it,” agreed Hope.

  “Nay, I wouldn’t ask a noblewoman to do that,” said Orrick. “Thank you, Ladies Hope and Grace, but Lord Corbett will make arrangements for someone to tend to my wounds.”

  Orrick left the girls standing there looking severely disappointed. He and Lord Corbett left the field, headed to the castle, and climbed the spiral staircase to Orrick’s tower room. Once inside the chamber, Corbett closed the door.

  “Do you want to tell me what the hell just happened out there?” asked Corbett, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I fought like a knight and it felt damned good.” Orrick collapsed atop the bed and kicked off his boots.

  “You did no such thing. Neither of you did. What I saw had very little to do with the knightly vows and honor.”

  “I might have gotten a little carried away.” Orrick lifted his tunic and looked at his side. There was a light pink line there, but no incision or blood at all. He still felt nothing.

  “A little?” asked Corbett, blowing air from his mouth. “From what I saw, you were ready to kill the man.”

  “Aye. I suppose I was.” Orrick pulled off the leather gauntlets, throwing them atop the bed. “Something came over me and I couldn’t stop fighting him. I felt anger and vengeance flowing through my blood. And every time he taunted me, it only made me hate him more. Sadly, I probably would have killed him today if I hadn’t seen the look in his eyes that reminded me of a man I killed by accident in the past. It brought back horrible guilt. As I looked at Irwin, I felt all the anger, sadness, fear, and pain that the man I killed so many years ago felt. It wasn’t a good thing and I wish I could forget it.”

  “No doubt Lord Irwin saw that you meant to kill him and he really did strike you in self-defense.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “By right, I should be punishing you, Orrick.”

  “Me?” Orrick’s head snapped up. “Did you not see the man push his sharp blade between my ribs? If I wasn’t immortal, I’d be dead right now.”

  “True. And I’m wondering how you are going to explain this to everyone on the morrow.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Of course you didn’t. But mayhap you should have.”

  “I know what you can do.” Little Noah walked out from the shadows.

  “Noah? What are you doing in here? I didn’t hear you come in.” Corbett turned and looked at the door but it was still closed.

  “I was playing in here,” Noah admitted. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “Leave,” said Corbett, pointing at the door.

  “Wait,” said Orrick, getting up off the bed. “He’s already heard our conversation, so mayhap he can help us after all.” Orrick hunkered down and took Noah’s hands in his. “What was it you wanted to say, Boy?”

  “I’ll wrap your wounds, Sir Orrick.”

  “It’s Sir Rick,” Orrick reminded him. “I’m not Orrick anymore. But mayhap you have a point.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Corbett.

  “I’ll wrap the wounds as if I am injured, and no one will know the difference,” Orrick told him.

  “No one but Lord Irwin, Lady Hope, and her sister, Lady Grace,” said Corbett. “And who knows who else saw anything.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll handle them,” Orrick assured him.

  “Like the way you handled Lord Irwin on the field today?” asked Corbett.

  “A man like him doesn’t deserve to live,” spat Orrick. “I have seen his kind before.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Noah, doing a somersault on the bed and landing on the floor on his rump with a loud thump.

  “It means, I know exactly why Lord Irwin wants the Eternal Flame and it has nothing to do with helping the king or saving an army. Nay. The man wants it for himself, because he wants to be immortal.”

  Chapter 6

  Hope picked up her skirts and hurried up the spiral staircase, worried out of her mind about Sir Rick. She’d seen Lord Irwin stab him in the side and she needed to make sure he was all right. Even though Lord Corbett had told her and Grace to stay in the lists and not to enter the sorcerer’s tower chamber, she didn’t care. She hid in the shadows until she saw Lord Corbett heading back out to the practice field and then she made a beeline for the tower.

  “My ladies, you are not allowed up in the tower,” said the steward, walking past and seeing Hope and Grace hurrying up the stairs.

  “Sir Rick is injured and I need to tend to his wounds,” exclaimed Hope, continuing to climb.

  “Come back here or I’ll be forced to stop you,” called out the heavy set, balding man. He pulled his blade from his sheath although Hope knew he wouldn’t really use it.

  “Go ahead,” whispered Grace, looking up at her sister from a lower position on the stairs. She smiled and her hand went to the lacing on her bodice. “I’ll distract him so you can go check on Sir Rick.” With one tug, the lacing opened up and the tops of her breasts spilled forth. “Oh, I think I hurt my ankle,” she said, bending over to show off her cleavage, and hiking up the bottom of her gown to show her bare leg.

  “Oh, Grace,” sighed Hope, shaking her head in disgust. However, she had to admit that it was a good distraction. And by the way the steward was eyeing up her legs, it worked! Turning, Hope ran up the stairs. She was about to burst into the room when she remember Lord Corbett telling her she had to knock first. Raising her fist to the thick, oaken door, she rapped quickly, then turned the knob and walked into the room.

  “Lady Hope?” Sir Rick was reaching up, putting a jar on a shelf. But as soon as he saw her, he sat down in a chair. His hand went to his side and he moaned.

  “You poor thing,” she said, feeling so sorry for him. Rushing into the room, she crossed the floor and sat down in a chair next to him, holding his hands. “I’m surprised you’re not dead after the blow you took from Lord Irwin’s sword on the practice field today.”

  A giggle was heard from behind her and it sounded like it came from the bed. She walked over and ripped open the closed bed curtains to see Noah sitting on the bed, covering his mouth.

  “Noah?” she asked. “What are you doing here and why are you laughing?”

  “The boy comes here often to play,” Sir Rick told her.

  She spun around to look at Rick. “How do you know that?”

  “Or, at least I think that’s what my – what Orrick – the sorcerer said.”

  Again, the boy giggled.

  “Noah, perhaps you’d better go down to the kitchen and see if there is something you can do,” Sir Rick told him.

  “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here and be a sorcerer’s apprentice.” The boy stood on his head on the bed, threatening to topple over.

  “Here, let me help you down.”
When Hope went to reach for him, her travel bag slipped off her shoulder. The bag hit the floor and, to her horror, the book about the Eternal Flame fell out.

  “What’s that?” asked Sir Rick from the other side of the room.

  “What’s what?” She acted like she didn’t know what he meant.

  “The book. Where did you get it?” Sir Rick’s eyes bored into her. She had to tell him something now. Perhaps he didn’t know about the sorcerer’s things or magic. She had to take the chance that possibly he wasn’t even close to Orrick even though they were related somehow.

  “Oh, that.” She feigned surprise, bending down to get it, but Noah got there first. The little boy scooped up the book and stared at the cover.

  “Lord Corbett is teaching me to read,” Noah said excitedly. “Watch. I can read this book. “The Et – Et –” he started, staring at the title, making a face, not knowing the word.

  “Eternal,” Hope told him. “It means forever.” She tapped the title with her finger. “The Eternal Flame.”

  “The Eternal Flame,” repeated the little boy, beaming, he was so proud of himself. “I want to read the inside, too.”

  “Nay, you won’t be able to read that,” said Sir Rick from across the room. “It’s protected by magic so only the sorcerer knows what it says.” Closing his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back in the chair.

  “I can read it. I can, I can.” Noah opened the book and stared at the pages but said nothing. Sir Rick looked like he had fallen asleep. “I can’t,” said the boy sadly, looking like he was about to cry as he handed the book back to Hope. Her heart went out to him.

  “Here, let me help you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed with the book. The boy smiled and climbed atop her lap. “Now, you follow along with me as I read and point to the words so you can learn.”

  “I will,” said the boy with wide eyes and a nod.

  “The Eternal Flame will burn forever, bringing immortality to the guardian, or Keeper of the Flame, for as long as he or she holds the power,” she read aloud. She noticed Sir Rick’s eyes pop open. She continued to read. “It is imperative that the one have magic in order to –”