Jack Staples and the Ring of Time

by Mark Batterson

  Yet it wasn’t the dress or the sling that made Alexia’s fifth birthday so memorable. A short while after she’d opened her presents, Alexia ran upstairs to change. Although she didn’t love the idea of wearing dresses, this dress was different. Her mother had made it for her.

  As she pulled the dress over her head, her bright green eyes fell on the sling lying on her bed. She quickly closed her bedroom door, grabbed the sling, and climbed out her window and down the maple tree. I’ll go for just a few minutes, she thought. They won’t even know I’m gone.

  Wearing her new red dress and with her sling tucked into her belt, Alexia ran into the woods. She spent an hour searching for the perfect stones to shoot at the birds and squirrels. She then spent another hour hunting down and shooting at the birds and squirrels. It was after she’d hit her seventeenth squirrel that Alexia realized she’d been gone far too long. Suddenly worried she would get into trouble, she began to run.

  Alexia sprinted onto the road leading to her house. Rising high into the cloudless sky was a large plume of smoke. Tears sprang to her eyes as she topped the small hill and saw that her house was on fire.

  Alexia began to scream, “Mother! Father! I’m here! Where are you?” As she approached the house, the flames were scorching. Even from the middle of the path, she could feel her skin beginning to burn, yet she didn’t care. She continued forward as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “Mother! Father! I’m here!”

  Alexia’s clothing began to smoke, yet still she walked closer. And when the heat finally became too much for her, she collapsed.

  When she opened her eyes, Alexia was weary beyond words, and her body felt as though it had been beaten for hours. Her skin burned, and her eyes stung. At first she didn’t understand what she was seeing.

  “That looks like my house,” she croaked, her throat feeling as dry as a desert. “Except …” The house she was looking down on had been burned to the ground. Only the tall chimney rising from a stone fireplace was still standing.

  As she remembered the fire, Alexia bolted upright. Only then did she realize she was sitting on the highest branch of a tall oak tree. Dizzy and confused, she burst into tears as she grabbed the branch, lying flat and holding on with all her might.

  After some time passed, Alexia began to remember that she was not just Alexia Dreager, a five-year-old girl. She was Ally Goat, and she was the best climber her father had ever seen. She would climb down this tree. And when she arrived at the bottom, her mother and father would be waiting for her.

  A short while later, Alexia neared the lower branches of the tree. She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Until now, she hadn’t allowed herself to think of anything other than getting down. Now that she was close, she began to fear her parents might not be waiting for her. Surely they should be looking for me by now.

  When she heard the sound of Irish pipes, she called out excitedly, “Father! I’m here!” Her father was well known as the best piper in all of Ireland. “Father, I’m all right! I’m in the tree!” she said. Yet the pipes continued.

  Without thinking, Alexia dove from her branch. She didn’t have much time to think about what she’d just done, so she quickly tucked her head into her chest and thrust her arms out in front of her. As she hit the ground, she rolled into a somersault, and then another, then another.

  Shocked, Alexia rolled to her feet and looked up at the branch she’d been standing on. “What was I thinking?” she asked aloud. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now except her mother and father. They must be worried sick about me. She grinned at the thought of their pleasure at seeing her and ran toward the sound of the bagpipes.

  As she neared the edge of the woods, Alexia froze. What she saw took her breath away. A large group of men and women had gathered. Everyone wore black and were standing around three freshly dug graves. In the middle of the crowd, two men sat on chairs, playing their bagpipes. Both were far shorter and fatter than her father. Alexia had been to a funeral before, and she knew what this meant. It was custom to bury those who died near to where they had lived.

  Scrubbing at the tears on her soot-stained cheeks, Alexia was unable to make herself move. She sat watching the three graves long after all the mourners left. As the sun was setting, she finally worked up the courage to walk over to them.

  A small wooden placard had been placed on a post at the head of each grave. Although she couldn’t read, Alexia knew what they were for. The one at the head of the largest mound would have her father’s name, and the other, at the head of the slightly smaller mound, would have her mother’s. As she looked at them, Alexia could barely breathe.

  With nothing but horror in the pit of her stomach, she stumbled forward, feeling as if she were in a dream. She now stood before the third and smallest mound. Although she couldn’t read all the words, she could read her name: “Alexia, ‘Ally Goat’ Dreager.” She dropped to her knees, the shock too much to bear. Her parents were dead, and apparently, everyone thought she had died as well.

  She stayed by the graves long past sunset. She knew she should find someone and tell them she was alive, but she had no family left. Her only uncle had died before she was born and her grandparents when she was just a baby. As the hours passed, a stony look entered her eyes. When she finally stood and walked back into the forest, she had one thought echoing through her mind: I don’t need anyone to look after me. I don’t need anyone at all.

  Alexia spent the next few years on her own, stealing food and clothes and sleeping high up in the trees. Even on the nights she didn’t fall asleep in a tree, she often woke up in one. Before long the trees had become her home, and she felt far more comfortable in their branches than on the ground.

  A few months after she turned twelve, Alexia found herself in the grand city of Belfast. She spent her nights sleeping on rooftops and her days stealing food. When the circus came to town, Alexia happened to be in the right place at the right time and was offered a job. The circus master had initially hired her to clean up after the elephants, but on the day he walked in and caught her doing backflips on the tumblers’ rope, everything changed.

  Alexia quickly found herself starring in the biggest show in the history of the circus. The show involved four torch-bearing tumblers, a ring of fire, two lions, and Alexia. She was absolutely thrilled with the turn of events, especially about the lions. Over time, the beasts became two of her very best friends. And for the first time in many years, she once again had a family of her own.

  On the night of the circus fire, everything changed for Alexia again. After the fire, the circus was shut down. Every tumbler had broken an arm or a leg, and most of the animals had escaped. Even worse, one of Alexia’s best friends, the lion she’d named Beast, had died in the fire. The moment she’d learned the second lion—the one she’d named Killer—had escaped, Alexia set out in search of her furry friend.

  Two days after the fire, she found Killer. Alexia was surprised and somewhat hurt to discover that the lion wouldn’t follow her back to the circus. He was happy to play hide-and-seek and still loved being scratched behind the ears, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not make the beast leave the forest that surrounded the sleepy town of Ballylesson.

  Alexia spent most of her time trying to keep Killer away from the townsfolk. If they found out a lion was loose in the woods, they would surely come out and try to kill it. Every time Killer ate a farm animal, Alexia would drag the bones off to a hiding place she’d found down by the river. This was a disgusting job she disliked very much.

  After five days in the forest outside Ballylesson, Alexia decided enough was enough. Whether he wanted to or not, she would take Killer back to the circus and demand that the circus master reopen the show. Just as Alexia was about to try to corral the lion, she heard someone scream. Killer immediately bolted away to see what was happening.

  Furious that her lion friend wouldn’t lis
ten, and afraid of what would happen if one of the townsfolk saw him, Alexia chased him through the woods. Before long, she came upon two boys who were running for their lives, desperate to escape the pursuing lion.

  Chapter 7

  THE CHOICE OF A BEAST

  “What are you doing?” the girl in red yelled at Jack. “You need to run!”

  But Jack was far too stunned to move. “It’s the second lion,” he whispered.

  As the beast roared again, its eyes stayed locked on Jack. Five days earlier, the golden-maned lion had died saving him, and though Jack had thought about it many times since, he still didn’t understand why.

  “Whatever you do,” the girl spoke in a hushed tone, “don’t—”

  With a fierce snarl, the lion pounced, landing on top of Jack with its massive paws pinning him to the ground.

  “Don’t look him in the eye.” The girl’s voice was tight with fear. “If you do, he’ll see it as a challenge.”

  The lion’s growling grew even more threatening as it brought its head close to Jack’s chest and inhaled deeply. When the beast roared again, Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trembling at the hot breath on his face.

  “You need to help him,” Arthur screamed at the girl. “You have to do something!”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” she shot back. “If you had run away like I told you, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  The lion continued its study of Jack, ignoring Arthur and the girl. Jack wanted to scream as the beast snapped its jaws just in front of his nose. He tried to stay calm as another, lower growl erupted from deep inside the lion’s chest.

  “Boy, just don’t move. I am going to try and …” The girl was suddenly speechless as the lion shook its head, uncurled its tongue, and began licking Jack on the face.

  “What?” the girl said, gasping.

  The beast’s tongue slid roughly across Jack’s cheek and forehead, then down his neck. As it licked him, the lion began to purr loudly. The tongue continued to slide over his face, and Jack didn’t move. He was frozen in fear with no idea what was happening. A moment later, the beast snarled at the girl, then gave Jack a knowing look before bounding away to disappear into the forest.

  Jack lay flat on his back, trying to comprehend what just happened. For a long moment he didn’t move, and neither Arthur nor the girl said a word. As he sat up, he touched his face in disbelief.

  “Well, that was weird,” Arthur said, turning to the girl. “What on earth are you doing with a lion? You know they’re dangerous, right?”

  “She was the one who walked the tightrope on the night of the fire,” Jack said. “I told you about her.”

  “You were there?” the girl broke in. “You were at the circus?” She turned to Jack with a dangerous look in her eyes.

  “I was there,” he said slowly. “I’m the boy the other lion saved from the fire.”

  The girl threw out her arm, pointing her finger in accusation. “It was you!”

  Jack stepped back from the girl’s sudden rage, blinking in confusion.

  “You killed him!” she screamed as she grabbed a sling from her belt and spun it around threateningly. “That lion was my best friend, boy! I knew I’d find you someday. Prepare to die.” The girl glared at Jack, spinning the sling faster.

  “He was your friend?” Jack felt sick to his stomach.

  The girl didn’t answer but kept her sling spinning.

  “I think he … I think he could have escaped. I’ve thought about it many times. I think he could have gotten away from the fire, but he didn’t. He chose to save me instead.”

  The girl’s face contorted in rage.

  “I’m sorry you lost your friend. I’m sorry he—”

  Thwang. The stone hurtled from her sling, flying directly at Jack’s head.

  As the girl’s stone flew toward him, something quite strange happened. From behind a nearby bush catapulted a much larger stone, also flying toward Jack’s head. When the girl’s stone was about to strike Jack flat on the nose, the larger stone collided with it, deflecting it away at the last possible moment.

  Jack blinked and shared a look of shock with both Arthur and the girl. All three children turned to look toward the bush. None of them moved or said a word, even when the slight whooshing sound came from above. Jack looked up to see a small stone dropping toward the girl. The girl was squinting directly into the setting sun, so she never saw the stone that struck her on the top of her head, knocking her unconscious.

  Jack and his best friend stared at the girl, then at each other. “What had just happened?” Jack breathed.

  “My, my, isn’t she a wild one?” Walking spryly from behind the bush was Mrs. Dumphry. In her hands was a sling only slightly longer than the one still clutched in the girl’s hand.

  “Mrs. Dumphry?” Arthur croaked. “What are you doing here?”

  Mrs. Dumphry snorted loudly as she walked over to the girl. “Do you think to question me, child? Does the badger waste its breath on the bear?”

  Arthur opened his mouth to speak, then promptly closed it again, unsure how to respond. Mrs. Dumphry knelt and placed a hand on the girl’s forehead, wiping off a bit of grime.

  “I don’t know what’s worse—young Mr. Greaves ignoring my instructions or …” As she was speaking, Mrs. Dumphry placed her thumb under the girl’s eye and pulled it open. The second she had it opened, she whipped her hand away and hissed sharply.

  “Mrs. Dumphry, what’s wrong?” Jack hadn’t thought anything could shock his ancient teacher. But she didn’t answer; she stayed kneeling with an unbelieving look painting her face. “Mrs. Dumphry?” Jack asked again.

  “Silence!” Her voice held a note of alarm. “Who is this girl? Speak now, and speak truthfully.”

  “I don’t know her name, but she used to work at the circus. She was the one who walked the tightrope.”

  After a moment, Mrs. Dumphry’s hand hesitantly made its way back to the girl’s eye. With her index finger she once again pulled at the skin, bringing her face closer to get a better look. “It’s not possible,” she whispered. “Two children born without scales?” For a long moment, she sat unmoving. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and Jack was beginning to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. By the look on Arthur’s face, it was clear he was thinking the same.

  Just as Jack opened his mouth to speak again, Mrs. Dumphry’s shoulders began to shake. It seemed to Jack that she was both laughing and crying at the same time. Arthur glanced at Jack and raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s time to go,” Mrs. Dumphry said. She stood and began walking toward the schoolhouse.

  After a moment Jack called after her, “We can’t just leave her here!”

  Mrs. Dumphry turned and looked back. “Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools speak because they have to say something. Which are you, child?”

  Jack shuffled his feet. “It’s just … I don’t think we should leave her.”

  “Well, of course not. But a true leader does not need to be asked to do the right thing; he does it.” She turned and continued walking toward the school.

  Jack watched her go, utterly confused.

  “I guess that means we have to carry her,” Arthur offered.

  Both boys lifted the girl between them, one of her arms over each of their shoulders. With her feet dragging along the forest floor behind them, they stumbled forward, doing their best not to lose sight of Mrs. Dumphry. But within the first minute, their ancient teacher was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 8

  THE BIRTH OF THE ASSASSIN

  Darkness had fallen by the time Jack and Arthur stumbled into the schoolhouse, dragging the red-cloaked girl between them. She was covered in mud from when the boys had dropped her, face-first, into a puddle. It hadn’t been on purpose. A rabbit had been scared from its hole and leaped out in f
ront of them. Both boys had screamed in fear and dropped the poor girl without thinking.

  Once inside, Jack was glad to see a fire already burning in the hearth, though Mrs. Dumphry was nowhere to be seen.

  “You don’t think she went home for the night, do you?” Arthur’s voice trembled slightly.

  “I don’t think she’d leave us here.” Jack was skeptical. “Maybe she just went to fetch some wood or something.”

  With fear weighing heavy on his mind, the firelight made the once-familiar schoolhouse more unnerving than warm. Shadows jumped and danced as the light shifted continuously. More than once, Jack was certain he saw dark fog slithering across the floor, yet each time he looked, there was nothing there.

  As the boys carried the girl to the fire, they tracked thick, muddy footprints across the entire length of the room. And as he passed Mrs. Dumphry’s desk, Jack noticed a large number of odd-looking papers scattered across it.

  “Why do you think she hates you so much?” Arthur motioned to the muddy girl as they laid her next to the fire.

  “I told you already—she thinks I killed the lion.”

  “You’d think she’d be happy you killed the lion!”

  “I didn’t kill it,” Jack said angrily. “I ... I don’t know what happened.”

  “I’m just saying she’s mad, that’s all.” Arthur glanced at her as he sat on a nearby chair. “Anyone who considers a lion to be their ‘best friend’ is as loony as a loon.”

  Jack had to agree; she did look rather mad with her face all muddy and the firelight casting deep shadows on one side.

  “Either way, she’s Mrs. Dumphry’s problem now, assuming she ever comes back,” Arthur said.

  Too agitated to sit, Jack made his way to Mrs. Dumphry’s desk. There was something odd about it. His teacher was the most orderly woman he’d ever met. Her voice rang in his head, “An unordered desk points to an undisciplined mind.”