Page 44 of Keeper of the Flame: Orrick

“Sure,” said the boy, seeming delighted that someone would want a child’s help. He put the stick down on the bed and jumped to the floor, running over to her. “What can I do?”

“Do you remember that book we had that I was going to read to you? The one about the Eternal Flame?”

“Aye,” he said. “Can you read it to me now?”

“Well, mayhap. But I don’t know where Orrick put it. Can you help me find it?”

She started to look at the bookshelf, but Noah hurried over to the bed. He hunkered down and pulled something out from under the pallet.

“Here it is,” he said, holding the book up proudly.

“What is it doing there?” she wondered.

“I put it there, hoping Orrick would read it to me, but he didn’t,” Noah explained. “He never seems to want to play anymore or show me his magic, and it’s all because of Sir Rick.”

“It’s because of Sir Rick?” she asked, interested since she heard her lover’s name. “What do you mean by that?”

“Orrick wants to be young again, and I don’t like him that way. I like him old.”

Hope chuckled, thinking the boy was cute. “Well, Noah, I can see how Sir Rick makes Orrick want to be young again. But we all get old even though we would rather stay young. Someday, even you will, too. There is nothing we can do about it.”

“Not Orrick,” said the boy, sitting down on a stool, and placing the book on the table. “He chose to be old but now he is going to be young instead.”

“Sweetheart, Orrick is very old and I assure you he isn’t going to get any younger.” Thinking the boy just wanted attention, she decided to read the book to him. She placed it on the table and ran her hand over the red, etched leather, loving the feel of the magical book. “Do you remember what the title is?” she asked the boy, hoping to help him learn to read.

“It says ‘The Eternal Flame’,” said the boy excitedly, getting on his knees on the stool and leaning forward on his elbows on the table.

“You’re right,” she said, opening the book. She was about to start reading, but it was getting darker in the room and sky outside was becoming black. “I’m afraid it’s too dark in here to read,” she told him.

“Light the candle,” said the boy, pointing to the beeswax candle on the table.

She looked back once again at the sky through the open window and felt like she should leave. She saw a flash of lightning and heard thunder rumbling in the distance. “I think we should do this at another time,” she said, closing the book and standing up.

“No one ever wants to spend time with me,” said the boy sadly. She swore she saw him brush a tear from his eye. “Orrick used to be my friend, but he’s not anymore.”

She remembered hearing that Noah was an orphan that had been left on the church steps as a baby. The boy looked so sad and lonely that she couldn’t turn him away. Glancing over her shoulder at the sky out the window one more time, she knew she should leave the room but part of her told her that she had to stay . . . for Noah.

“All right, but we can only read a page or two and then we have to leave before Orrick or Sir Rick return and catch us here.”

“Oh, goody,” said the boy, clapping his hands together.

“And you can’t tell them we were here. You have to promise.”

“I do,” said the boy, nodding forcefully. A curly blond lock of hair fell over one eye.

“Hurry up, Hope,” said Grace, sticking her head in the door. “It looks like a storm is brewing. The wind is blowing in through the arrow slit windows in the tower so hard that the torches on the walls are almost going out.”

“Just give me a minute, Grace. This is important.” Hope snatched up the candle from the table and headed over to the hearth. As she approached the flame, an odd feeling surged through her body. She felt like she wanted to run but, at the same time, she felt so compelled, she couldn’t look away.

Her hand shook as she reached out with the candle toward the fire, meaning to light the wick. She wasn’t even sure the flame had touched the wick when all of a sudden the candle lit. The flame shot up higher than her. She fell back against a trunk, almost dropping the candle in surprise. Hot wax spilled onto the trunk and hit her arm as well. She cringed, waiting for the scalding feeling of hot wax against skin, but it didn’t hurt. The wax hardened instantly on her arm. Then a feeling flashed through her, starting at her hand, traveling up her arm and then up to her head. For a moment, she felt full of life, full of power . . . she felt invincible. It was the oddest thing and she had never felt this way before.

Then the flame subsided but continued to burn brightly on the wick of the candle. She hurried over to the table, placing the candle back in the bottle that served as a holder, picking up the book and sitting down next to the boy.

She was about to start reading, but Noah was looking at her oddly. It was almost as if he was suddenly afraid of her. He jumped off the stool and ran toward the door.

“Wait, Noah! I’m going to read to you. Where are you going?”

The boy didn’t say anything. He just looked back over his shoulder with wide eyes, and disappeared out the door.