Page 1 of Keeper of the Flame: Orrick

Chapter 1

Blake Castle, Devonshire, England 1386

Immortality should have been a blessing, but for Orrick Pendragon, it was naught but a curse.

As he caressed the smooth glass of his gazing orb, Orrick stared deeply into the foggy depths, lost in thought. Anxiety coursed through him causing a bead of sweat to form on his brow.

It had been a very long time since he’d used the orb to look into his past. Mayhap he should have left things as they were, but lately he had a longing he couldn’t control. Something inside him seemed to challenge his every thought. It caused him to feel that black void of emptiness tinged with guilt. The feeling was stronger than ever lately. Surrounded by a castle filled with people, Orrick shouldn’t be so lonely. Yet, he felt like a deserted isle as he continued to live a life that no longer held purpose.

His memories of her should have diminished by now, but they hadn’t. Some memories never died . . . just like him. Common sense told him not to stir up old feelings, but his heart convinced him that he had to see her once again.

Orrick’s pulse sped up when the cloudy crystal cleared and he saw his late wife within it. It had been too long since he gazed upon her angelic face. One hundred years ago today is when she died, and he still felt as if he were to blame.

Lady Petronilla of Canterbury smiled up at him as if she had never left his side. Orrick watched the vision unfold as his younger self held Petronilla tightly in his arms, kissing her and protecting her from all evil. He had been so gullible thinking his powers would be enough. Orrick had been a knight at the time, and felt invincible. He believed his strong skill with weapons combined with his natural powers of magic could protect his lover from any harm or danger.

Sadly, he found out how wrong he was.

With no one to guide him, Orrick hadn’t considered that his strongest asset would also end up being his biggest foe. He’d kept it a secret that he was really a sorcerer at first, thinking all his powerful ways would bring him the love and happiness he sought. Damn his need for love! And bid the devil, he’d been so foolish that he had no idea how much hurt would come from his decision.

Orrick’s arrogance mixed with self-importance was the beginning of the end for everything and everyone he held near and dear to his heart.

Being invincible, Orrick was always victorious in battle. He held the power of immortality and could not be killed. Of course, no one knew it. No enemy could harm him, no foe could strike him down dead. Unfortunately, this didn’t hold true for Petronilla or for Orrick’s friends. Being immortal was a double-edged sword. There was an enemy that even he could not defeat when it came to protecting those who were close to him. This enemy was none other than old age and death.

Lifting his hand to stroke his long, white beard, Orrick watched the vision of himself in the globe, almost forgetting that he was once a man with a spring to his step and a passion for life. He’d been a lady’s man, handsome and dashing. Aye, he was someone that every soldier and knight wished to be. But not anymore.

Orrick remained in his shapeshifting guise of an old man for the last hundred years by choice, ever since he lost Petronilla. It was mainly because he never wanted to fall in love again.

Aye, Orrick wished he were any man but himself. What he wanted more than anything was to be able to die. He’d welcome death over the pain of watching others grow old and perish. He was tired of feeling as if he’d cheated death when others more worthy than him deserved to live and didn’t.

“Orrick?” came a small voice from the door.

Startled from being in deep thought and not aware someone approached, Orrick quickly moved his hands away from the gazing ball. With it went the vision of the only woman he had ever loved. Loneliness returned even stronger than before. He released a breath of air from his mouth, turning his head slightly to see Lord Corbett Blake’s six-year-old ward, Noah, standing at the open door to his chamber.

“What are you doing, Orrick?” asked the boy curiously. He never tired of asking questions – most of them being ones that Orrick could not, or would not answer. Still, he enjoyed the company of the lad because Noah reminded him of himself at that age.

“It’s nothing, Noah,” he said, not feeling good about lying to the boy since he felt as if he didn’t want to have secrets from him. Noah’s innocence was refreshing, and Orrick wished it would last forever. Sadly, that would all change once the boy grew up and learned not to trust others after all.

In a way, Orrick felt like he was the boy’s mentor, and that was the only spark in his life right now that kept him going. “Come in,” he said with a nod.

“Lord Corbett doesn’t like it when I visit you in the tower,” Noah reminded him, but hurried into the room anyway.

“Lord Corbett was once a young boy like you and I remember it well,” Orrick answered with a chuckle. “Did you know that I mentored him when he was just about the same age as you are now?”

“Mentored? Do you mean Lord Corbett was learning to be a powerful sorcerer like you?” Bright blue eyes, the same color of his guardian’s stared up in awe.

Orrick chuckled again and patted the boy on the back. “Against his will, he was. He fought it with every fiber of his being. He didn’t want to be a sorcerer’s apprentice the way you do. The only thing Corbett ever wanted to be was a knight, a lord, and one of the best warriors that ever lived. He longed to follow in his father’s footsteps – that is, in everything but matters of the heart.”

“What about you, Orrick? Did you always want to be a sorcerer?” The curious boy crossed the room and lifted the lid of a humpback trunk with two hands, stretching his neck to see the contents inside.

“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.” Orrick walked over and gently removed Noah’s hands from the lid before closing the trunk again.

“I think it would be wonderful and exciting!” Noah looked up into the air, staring into the space as if he were daydreaming. “I wish I was a mighty sorcerer like you.” He climbed up on a stool next, leaning closer to the small wooden table. Putting his hands on the crystal orb the way he’d seen Orrick do, he started to rub his palms over it.

“Nay, you don’t want to be a sorcerer like me. Believe me, you don’t.” Orrick snatched the globe away from the boy and headed over to one of the higher shelves that the child couldn’t reach. “Besides, I was always a sorcerer. I was born that way and didn’t have a choice.” He looked back over his shoulder. “What did you want, Noah? Why did you come to my tower room against Lord Corbett’s orders?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” The boy humorously slapped himself on the head. “The steward sent me to fetch you.” When he smiled, Orrick could see the empty spot where the boy had recently lost a tooth.

“He did?” Placing the gazing orb carefully onto the high shelf, Orrick ran a reverent hand over it, still thinking about Petronilla. “Whatever for?” He turned partially and glanced over his shoulder at the boy. “Is someone sick or wounded? Do they need my healing skills? I’ll get my ointments and herbs at once.”