the remarkable misfortunes of ryan ross

Chapter 4 -- For Me To Know And You To Find Out

Ryan's hands shot up, cradling his already bruising skin. Curling up into a ball on his side, he thought he was going to be sick again except that he didn't really have anything left to throw up. Damn, it hurt!

He tried to feel what kind of damage might have been done through his thick fingerless gloves, but a rough hand grabbed him from the bedding and threw him down face first onto the floor. His teeth cracked hard into each other and bright spots zipped in front of his shut eyes.

Dr. Walker's face flurried through several devastated expressions as he watched the Collector's golden baton rise again. The pain was splitting, and Ryan groaned on his side as the metal cracked hard against his ribs.

Shit, was something broken? He touched his ribs. They seared. It was hard to breath.

Ryan saw the gold baton in his peripheral vision slowly line up with his head as though it were a croquet mallet and his skull were a wooden ball. The golden blur drew back, and he clinched shut his eyes with what fading strength his body had left.

The blow never came. He cracked his eyelids; his side was throbbing so hard it felt like the ground was moving with him. His stomach protested even the most ginger movements with a dull ache, but where had the blow to his head gone? Why hadn't that happened?

"Come closer, and I'll kill him!" Dr. Walker snapped at the outraged guards in the doorway as he held a rather slender sword to the Collector's throat.

Ryan's eyes darted to the empty shell of the swirling blue cane that had once concealed the doctor's slender weapon and was now rolling back and forth in front of his body.

"Should have taken that closer look at my cane when I offered, but OH, NO, you had to have bad taste in gentleman's accessories."

"You won't get away with this!" The Collector shouted back, "you kill me, and they'll kill you!"

"Ah, yes, but I am already a fugitive sentenced to death. Remember? At least this way I won't have to die alone." Dr. Walker grinned into the Collector's face.

"W-What's going on!" A shrill feminine voice called out from behind the shoulders of the guards in the doorway.

"Mom?" If she'd given herself up to check on him Ryan was going to be pissed.

"My baby!" She shoved her way between the bewildered soldiers and rushed into the center of the home.

Ryan was pissed. He spit a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor. His bottom lip ached from where his teeth had rammed against its soft flesh.

"Sandra?" A more masculine voice rang out from behind the guards. The guards parted this time, and it was just enough for Ryan's father, with his little sister clutched in his arms, to squeeze past them and into the room.

"Mr. Ross, I assume?" the Collector spoke, voice strained and terrified next to the thin sword wedged against his throat.

"Yes," Ross' father attempted to bow but was too feeble to actually do so without nearly collapsing in the processes.

Dr. Walker's jaw dropped slack; Ryan presumed it was in shock at the age of his father. He was used to it by now. His father was much older than people expected. Already into his late 50's and looking even more aged thanks to his difficult work.

"Are you aware of what you owe the crown?" The man's double chin dipped slightly into the glistening blade against his throat, "could you PLEASE lower that!"

"If you weren't such a gluttonous pig, there wouldn't be so much chin for the edge to accidentally gouge." Dr. Walker explained.

Before Dr. Walker could react, one of the guards reached forward and grasped Sandra Ross by her shoulder and placed a sword to the woman's neck.

"Release him or she dies." The soldier growled.

Dr. Walker's face fell, but he did nothing. Just stood there staring at the scene before him.

"P-please," Ryan groaned, his eyes darting from the doctor to his threatened mother.

Dr. Walker slowly moved the sword away from the man's flesh, and stepped away, leaving behind only a slight bleeding scratch on the Collector's throat.

"Drop your weapon!" the soldier ordered, and Dr. Walker hesitantly complied.

"We have no monies, sir." Mr. Ross lowered his head. "Please, I'm sure your majesty is aware of the flood. My daughter is ill. She's been running a high fever and can't keep anything down. There IS no money to pay you with. If I could have a week --"

"You have nothing of value in this whole residence?" the Collector questioned, much more relaxed now that the sword no longer stuck against his throat.

"Nothing. The only things of value are the walls themselves."

"Then maybe we could make a deal." the man motioned towards one of the guards who moved forward protectively towards the Collector. "We'll burn down your house, let you and your family live, and call it even."

"No. I mean, why? What would that gain you? We need this home. You can't put us out in the cold; I told you my daughter is very ill!"

"It would set an example; it would assure you did whatever it took to pay your debts in the future. It accomplishes a lot of things."

"Imprison me; make me work it off for the King. Something, please? Not this."

"You?" The Collector chuckled in his portly throat. "That deal would work fine, except that you can hardly bend over. You wouldn't survive in a dungeon, and you would be of no use as labor."

Tears welled into Ryan's father's eyes. He shook his head frantically.

"Burn it," the Collector snapped and a soldier caring a bright flaring torch burst through the doorway.

Ryan couldn't believe this was happening; everything hurt; his ribs might be broken; his father was crying; he was about to lose his house, and then there was his sister.

Ryan locked eyes with his sister. She was only eight and shivering in fright. Her eyes were the color of clear water with amber dust sprinkled across the surface. Her skin was sheet white and her hair so black it shined. She was an angel; she didn't deserve this.

"What about me?" Ryan's words garbled in his mouth, battling with his tongue to speak clearly despite the sparking pain in his side.

Everything stopped... the soldier with the torch, the Collector's muted chuckles, Dr. Walker's ringing hands, and for just a split second Sandra Ross' heart.

"What did you say?" The Collector leaned closer to the floor aiming his ear in the direction of Ryan's mouth.

"I said," Ryan forced himself to enunciate over his own short stabbing breaths, "what about me?"

"What about you?"

"I'm strong, young, and valuable. You can lock me up or make me do labor for the crown. Whatever you wish, if you'll absolve my father's debt, take that sword away from my mother's throat and let the rest of my family alone." Ryan's voice broke several times before he finished the sentence, and he cursed himself for sounding more pathetic than 'strong, young, and valuable'. Some salesman he was.

The Collector bent closer to Ryan, taking the boy's face between his short tubby fingers. He stared, examining in detail, and ran his thumb along the boy's bottom lip, tugging the smooth flesh along with the movements of his fingers. He brushed over Ryan's high arched eyebrows and button nose. He wrapped his entire hand around the boy's slender, swan like throat as though to choke the life out of him, but, despite the fear glistening in Ryan's eyes, the hand never tightened.

"Hmph," the Collector gave a trademark snort, and accompanied it with a greedy smile. "I know someone in the castle who might be able to use your services. If not that, or anything else, then you'll certainly make for nice decoration around the dungeon."

The Collector paused for another moment and then nodded, "Take him!" he ordered.

The guard holding his blade to Sandra Ross' throat lowered his sword and stalked towards the thin peasant boy sprawled out on the floor.

"No!" Ryan's father protested, reaching down to try to block the soldiers from taking his son.

"Then as you wish," the Collector waved off the guards. "Burn it!"

"No!" Ryan snapped again, "Father, I'm sorry, but I am seventeen. This is my choice. I know what I want. Think, I'll be in the castle; I'll be fed; I'll have access to books and learned people. Let me go, and you can keep our house." Ryan pleaded that his dad see reason.

The older man nodded and then watched as though the world were moving in slow motion. His son was wrenched from the ground by his slender arms and hauled towards a barred carriage just beyond the front doorway.

The barred carriage was filled with seven other prisoners, and some of the faces looked depressingly familiar. A loud clatter of the heavy iron doors punctuated Ryan's new captivity.

"Now," the Collector wrinkled his nose in disgust, "for the fugitive."

Several guards marched towards Doctor Walker who merely smirked at their presence.

"Come willingly." one of the guards ordered.

"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you." With that, the whimsical doctor pulled a gold handled knife from his vest and thrust it towards the guard.

The Collector dashed away from the doctor's threatening blade and one of the guards swung at Dr. Walker's head.

Jon Walker quickly ducked and grasped hold of his slender sword that he had discarded on the ground. He swung the long blade towards the threatening guard and the man fell to the ground clinching his abdomen and wailing in pain.

The Collector gasped and pointed about frantically, squealing like a pig, "GET HIM! Get him, get him, get him!"

Men swarmed around the doctor, swords drawn and raining down against his single slender blade. Clanking sounds filled the room as Jon Walker fell to the ground, and grasped a large handful of dirt in the process. Shooting back up he thrust the powdered substance into the soldiers' eyes and managed to dodge around and behind the disoriented men.

He was nearly out the door before being pinned to the wall via a sword through the side of his bright yellow vest. One of the guards towered close into his face with a knife against his neck.

"Breath, breath," Walker tried to turn his face away from the man as though disgusted, "Could you please at least shut your mouth when you breathe?"

Then the soldier slumped to the floor, knife clattering to the ground. Dr. Walker's head shot around to see who had saved him, and there was Spencer, holding one of the large sticks of wood from the pile Ryan's parents had used as refuge.

One of the soldiers with dirt still in his eyes lunged towards Spencer, who rammed his wooden stick between the larger man's legs. The soldier's eyes widened, and he crashed hard to his knees.

"Spencer, watch out!" Ryan's dad squeaked as another man struck Spencer hard in the base of his spine.

Spencer doubled over to the ground, and Ryan's parents watched in horror from where they cowered in the back corner of the house, and wrapped their arms protectively around their daughter.

The soldier aimed his sword at Spencer's chest, plunging down towards the boy before taking a sudden turn in mid-thrust and flying backward from the sheer force of being struck in the neck by the sheath portion of Dr. Walker's swirling blue cane.

"While I greatly appreciate your valor," Jon spoke to Spencer as casually as if they were discussing politics over mid-day tea, "I highly suggest you run as fast as you can, and as far from this house as you can, before they arrest you for having assaulted an officer of the crown."

Spencer nodded dumbly, terrified at his own near death, and before Dr. Walker had turned back around, he was out the door and gone.

The moment it had taken Dr. Walker to urge Spencer to save himself was precious and costly. Another guard charged at him before the doctor could make it to the door, striking him roughly in the side.

Jon fell to the ground, rolled quickly, and stabbed his sword directly into the foot of the other man. Warm, black-red blood oozed out over the officer's boot as the doctor removed his sword and jumped back up.

Just as he had done so, the Collector himself swung his golden baton at Dr. Walker's head, but Jon still managed to eloquently duck the blow, slicing at the fat man's shin in the process.

"Argh," the paltry voice wailed at the fresh gash on his leg. The Collector promptly dropped his baton in order to fling his hands towards his own wound.

"May I borrow this?" Jon asked lazily, lifting the metal rod from the ground and then swiftly swinging it into the side of the Collector's ribs and prompting further loud screams.

"Oh, gee, wow," Dr. Walker marveled at the shimmering gold in his hand, "that hurts a lot more than you thought it did, huh?"

Wielding the rod again, he cracked two of the guards across the chest, and one in the side of his head. Within moments the eccentrically dressed man was out the door.

Ryan spied this action from his new cell, but his head spun from a mixture of pain and confusion at the entire scene taking place in front of him. The bars of his carriage formed lattice work across his vision, and he craned his head to see where the doctor had gone when suddenly the now familiar face popped into view in front of his cart.

Jon dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the shred of paper he had been marking with the charcoal pen in the house before the Collector had made his enterance and thrust the parchment through the bars. The scrap fluttered to the floor of the cart in front of Ryan's feet.

"In case you need my help," the man smiled with a whimsical wink and then vanished.

By the time the injured guards poured out of the house, the doctor was gone, and Ryan had safely tucked the slip of paper into his pocket.

"Bring the boy into my carriage," the Collector barked, hobbling on one leg. The door to Ryan's mobile cell swung open, and he felt the round man grab him roughly by the collar of his pale tattered shirt, "I have questions for him."

Ryan felt himself thrust into an enclosed carriage, and he scrabbled clumsily into a seat opposite his tormentor.

"Where did he go?" the spite dripped off the man's lips.

"I didn't see," Ryan's voice was higher pitched than usual.

"Were your eyes malfunctioning?"

"It's hard to concentrate when it really, really hurts to breath." Ryan's voice was not trying to be arrogant, merely honest. His voice was meek and defeated. He didn't see the point in fighting right now, so he tried to keep his tone humble. His life was pretty much over anyway. All the plans he had dreamed about growing up... making it in the town, becoming a musician, everything... it was over.

"Do you think your ribs are broken?"

"I do not know."

"Well, if you wish that they do not sustain further injury," the man leaned closer to Ryan, "I would appreciate it if you informed me of the doctor's location."

"I don't know where he went," Ryan's voice actually whined slightly. Why did the man think he was lying?

A swift hand crashed into the boy's ribs right on top of where the baton had struck. Ryan saw sparks for a moment and went dizzy with pain. He actually started slipping out of his seat, clinging desperately to his injured ribcage.

"What was that for?" Ryan forced back sobs in front of the Collector.

"To make it perfectly clear," he shifted in his seat to keep his knees from having to touch Ryan's slouched form, "that your body no longer belongs to you. You are a possession of the crown, and you will do as you are told. You will answer questions honestly, or we will damage our property any way we see fit."

"Will I, will I get medical attention at the Castle?" Ryan said cringing as his wrecked torso tried to pull itself back into an upright position.

"Maybe. It depends on what you tell us about the doctor."

"I don't know anything about the doctor. I met him outside of a whorehouse. I – I --" Ryan stuttered as the Collector raised a humored brow.

"A whore?" The question was clearly rhetorical, and Ryan lowered his eyes into his lap.

"I showed him back to my home because he said he could help my sister... and then you showed up. That's all I know."

Ryan thought of giving the man the paper slip that Jon and had given him; he had the feeling he needed medical attention badly, but he didn't even know what was on the paper yet, and he couldn't bring himself to give it away.

The Collector leaned back, finally, and seemed convinced that Ryan had told him the truth. Maybe it was because he had confessed to having encountered the doctor in such a humiliating place, but either way, Ryan sighed with relief.

They sat in silence for several minutes; Ryan stared out the window at the gold and red leaves dripping from the autumn trees. He couldn't stop thinking; his mind swirled with everything that had happened. He wanted to know more about that strange doctor.

"Sir," Ryan muttered timidly under his breath. The man's eyes narrowed, but Ryan summoned his courage and continued, "What crime is Dr. Walker wanted for exactly?

The Collector curled his lip but then twisted his disgusting face into a crooked smile. "That is for me to know, and you to find out."