The Ring Master's Fair

PART 13

The Ring Master's Fair - Part 13

Rylan coughed some dust out of his system as he crouched under yet another low hanging beam. "I've never seen this passage way before. I've never seen any, actually."

"You mustn't have been much a curious child back then," Lark remarked.

"I spent most of my time being scolded by Lucinda and digging around in the gardens," he defended himself.

Rylan moved around an empty cobweb with Lark teetering along behind. "What do you think this passage was used for? It doesn't look like anyone has been here in years." Lark crinkled her nose as a musty smell approached them.

"There was someone here, though. And not to long ago." Rylan stopped a few feet ahead and nodded to the floor. Dust covered most of it, but the lantern she carried lit up bare patches shaped like footprints.

"Who could it have been?" Lark asked.

"Atticus maybe? No, he's too... I can't even think of the word."

"Torrance is too small and too young. Even though he is the most curious."

Lark and Rylan kept on bouncing suggestions back and forth.

"Riva would faint at the sight of this mess."

"King Alkis is too busy."

"Let's not even start with Lucinda." Lark laughed and shook her head at Rylan's thought.

They carried on, each within the depths of their own thoughts.

The footsteps led to an oak door.  Lark reached out and gently jiggled the brass knob. The knob was so loose that it fell to the ground with a solid thunk.

"Whoops. No one will notice, hopefully," Lark shrugged nervously.

Rylan chuckled and moved to push the door open. At first, it was stuck pretty good. Both of them gave it another solid push, and the door fell open.

"Ladies first," Rylan gestured.

"You just want me to face the danger before you do, don't you?"

Rylan smirked. "Maybe."

Lark shook her head at his silliness, yet moved forward through the door.

There was a stone hallway before it spilled into a larger room.

The ceiling was high and the walls were dark. The paint was peeling and there was an odd, musty smell. Along one wall was a book shelf. It was mostly empty, except for the occasional book or odd trinket.

Lark moved forward. "It's fine. It's safe."

She headed over to the book shelf and took out the closest book to her.

A Slave's Misery

Slaves. Slaves. Slaves.

Lark still wasn't used to the fact that she wasn't a slave anymore. At least, she thought herself to not be a slave.

Opening the book to the first page, she immediately slammed it shut again.

"What's wrong, Lark?" Rylan asked, concerned. He came over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Lark flinched at the gentle contact.

Rylan frowned deeply, took the book out of her hands, and stepped back. Opening it up to the first page, she understood why Lark flipped out.

It was a very detailed picture of a man hung from a tree branch. His shirt was torn open, the bareness of his back drenched in his own blood.

A powerful man stood near by, a long, slender whip at hand. The man wore a grin. One of deviousness and pleasure.

Lark recognized that grin. It was the one her old master used to wear whenever she was tortured.

To Rylan, it was sickening to think that anyone could find pleasure in someone else's pain. Someone else who is as human as himself.

Rylan set the book down on a shelf. He carefully studied Lark. He inched forward slowly, not wanting to scare her.

"Lark," he said quietly, but loud enough for her to hear. "Are you okay?"

Lark looked up and laughed bitterly. "Am I okay?" Am I okay?" Lark sent Rylan a quick, sharp glare. "You clearly don't know anything. I would be amazed by anyone who was abused like that man.

Anyone who could withstand that pain. Withstand the constant memories of that whip flinging out from the owners hand. Flinging put like a loose snake and striking the back. Tearing your tender skin to pieces. Tearing yourself, your world, your innocence, your peace."

Rylan tried to act like he wasn't affected by the words. But, in reality, he truly was.

"The worse pain isn't it moment it happens, but the memories after the moment. Even day, months, years later."

"Do you wish for the memories to go away? To be undisturbed, to have a clean slate and start over with your life?"

Lark looked at Rylan with a seriousness in her eyes. Rylan saw that and also hope. The slightest glimmer of hope in her eyes that also gave him hope. Hope that he could make a difference in the world, even if it only affects one person.

"I would want nothing more," Lark whispered.

Rylan smiled slightly, a secret smile meant for only himself.

He opened his arms up gently and gestured for Lark to step into them.

She obeyed.

He held her.

He rocked her back and forth like a gentle breeze. He held her like she was a fragile doll. Like she would break under the slightest trip up.

Rylan then finalized his goal.

He was going to improve this poor girl's life.

He was going to save her.

Not only from his older brother, Atticus, but from herself and her past.