Hey, i'm back and not dead, even though my history teacher thinks i'm dead, and my science teacher thinks im a psychopath(which is probable :D) anyway thats off the point... the next chapters up and im sorry for the wait!

Chapter 35… Torment is an Escape.

'Where you taking him?' asked the man with a pointed finger.

Gilan didn't know what to say before he heard clanking footsteps behind him and turned to face the general in armour. The man was wearing a shining helmet but as he pulled the object off his head Gilan inwardly exhaled but he kept his face outwardly like stone. Murray turned to face the man.

'What is the matter here?' asked Murray, his voice deep and even. Mimicking the tone that Gilan had not heard him use since they'd fallen off the cliff, but even that felt leagues and lives behind them.

'Sir.' The man from the fire snapped to attention, his fellow soldiers- who had moved to flock behind him- simulating the action, if more sloppy and slow. 'That man over his shoulder is under guard in order of the king. I believed that this man is moving him without orders.' The man shifted from left to right under Murray's unnerving stare, his eyes flashing uncertainty like pale rivers reflecting into his irises.

'It is quite alright. This man was under my orders. Go back to your fire, my good fellow.' Murray made a guesser with his hands but the man still looked hesitant.

'But-' he started, but Murray stepped in first. His face flushed red and his quiet tone left no argument.

'Are you questioning my authority?' The man wavered and stepped back.

'No- it's just-'

Murray stepped forward again, striding past Gilan with a long step. 'No?'

'Well you're not the king, and it's his orders-' Murray gave a short-half laugh and smiled wrathfully.

'You expect the king does his own dirty work?' Murray didn't wait for the man to even open his mouth. 'No. Because that's my job. And if you question my person or authority again, well, need I say what will happen.' The man shook his head precipitously and stepped away, his fellow soldiers following him back to the fire. 'Good.'

Murray strode back to Gilan's position and took him by the elbow then strode away. Gilan hurried along with him, easily matching his strides to match Murray's but his father's body felt like dead weight on his shoulder and he tried to keep his steps even and steady as to not aggravate his father's wounds even further than the ones he had already attained. Under his breath he whispered, his voice coming out raspy and swollen but if Murray noticed then he didn't show it for his expression was still a stony wall.

'Did you get the others out?' asked Gilan, leaning forward slightly to even the weight across his shoulders.

'Yes, they're in the trees now.' Replied Murray in an equally quite voice that had lost all tones of authority.

They kept walking with long brisk strides and they weren't stopped or questioned again, however they were glanced at by some and it made Gilan feel worried but he forced himself to remain outwardly calm as he had done many times before, like Halt had taught him. Murray seemed the same, for from further away one would think his frown was heavy with power or tiredness but Gilan could see that the man was as worried as him.

They finally reached the edge of the wood and Gilan saw- just as Murray had told him- the Araluen men standing and sitting around the shadowed area. He moved towards his horse and carefully shifted his father on to the saddle. After checking that his father would not fall from Gust's back he move back to Murray who was speaking hurriedly to his second. Gilan had become fluent with their langue but they spoke so fast he wondered if they could even tell what the other was saying.

Murray broke away first, concern edged onto his face as clearly as if it had been inked there. 'Something wrong?' asked Gilan quietly, sending a glance of his shoulder as if Murray's problem would just appear out of thin-air and present itself to him.

'Well- no, nothing really, but we need to get your King's men back as they are in need of medical attention.' Gilan could see clearly that it was not the problem at hand but he decided not to push further.

Murray left to saddle his own horse and over his shoulder called orders to his men how helped the others to horses and started to lead them back to their camp. Many had to double on the horses and Murray's men walked between the horses, holding the rains and preventing the men from falling from the saddles as they swam in and out of consciousness.

Gilan led his horse near the front. Gust pushing him forward as he stumbled on the uneven ground. He stoked her soft fur gently, rubbing it through his fingers slowly. She butted his shoulder and he was silently reminded of Blaze and dropped his hand.

The first sign of the encampment was little sparks of flame jutting out in the distance and as they passed through the trees they saw the sun rising from beyond the hills in the distance like a ball of fire laying a dripped stream of red light in its wake. Gilan relaxed and the tension that had knotted in his shoulders became an absent pain.

He looked towards the Araluen's camp first. The tents pitched on the small rises colours of blue, red, yellow and white, the shouts drifting over the rutted land as they prepared there soldiers into order, the armour and weapons being handed out fairly and the noises of horses being saddled, fed then watered for the fight.

Gilan wondered what his friends where doing. Were they going to fight today? Were they going to die? Was he going to be able to say good bye? He shook his head, cleaning the thoughts from his mind.

Gilan stayed in the tent as the physician looked after his father. He felt strangely numb as cloth after cloth and bandage after bandage came away stained with blood, sickly red and bright. Gilan didn't know what he would do if he lost his father and he didn't know what to feel now. He knew his father's injures were fatal if not treated properly yet he felt nothing but emptiness.

In the back of his mind he knew he should go back to Geraldo's part of the camp but he seemed to have lost all movement or sense.

Maybe it would have been better to have someone there with him, like his father had been when they had lost his mother. Or maybe to feel despair, or sorrow, or maybe even fear and hope but he couldn't do it. For his feeling were trapped in a void of blankness and he could not tell one emotion from the other.

He sat back, tenting numbly on the tent post, his cowl up and shadowing his face and he stared. His blue eyes strangely blank and seemed void of life. He felt his body sag and slowly he let himself fall into a deep pitiless sleep.

Rain. Rain lashed down in a dark torrent. Terrors of clouds, swarming in the sky above, fell towards the ground which was slick with red mud. He heard shouts from far away, circling him, creeping closer and he huddled into himself, clasping shaking hands over his ears in hope to block away the screaming sounds. But they persisted, clawing under his thin fingers and into the hollow tunnels of his ears. The sounds screamed and cried out in pain. And pain then came.

Pain muddled his thoughts making him feel sheer panic, and he winced as a dark hand reached out towards him. He thrashed out at the body as it moved forwards him, crawling through the slick mud and scrambling to hold something other than mud.

The person veered out of the darkness and into the rain, but still he could see the face through the blurred water. The face was pale- almost pure white- and the skin sagged and cracked as it came into contact of the rain. The person opened his mouth- barely a hole in the pale oval shaped face- its teeth showing yellow and black and it made a croaking sound.

It moved forwards again and clasped a bony hand around his arm and pulled itself up next to him. He could feel the person skin on his own, the cold breath, and the benumbed pulse under the pallor flesh. Its fingers sank into his own sink, the long yellowing nails feeling like razors and then it moaned. Like a silent howl, its face scrunched up in pain and a dying sound emptied down its chin and into the pitiless night.

The mud turned to red and the red to blood, showering on his face and choking the person lying beside him. It splattered into his eyes and he felt blinded and lifeless. He gagged over and over making wines like the person beside him and he pushed himself away, as far away as he could get from the blood, rain, mud and cries of the helpless being on the ground. Yet he couldn't move.

Then he felt the pain come again, but it hurt more. It was agony and he couldn't help but lash out, wailing on the top of his lungs as they felt like they were burning inside out and the flames erupted around him and the floor fell from beneath his feet and the person was crying out beside him and he just wanted silence!

He was falling for what seemed like years. Having no sky or ground or anything around him he felt naked to the torment that screamed its way into his head, the person's hand holding him, dragging him down and he cried to the person to stop! But the person would not stop but only held on harder, making ringlets of blood welch from his arms and he screamed out-

He was lying with his back to the post, hulled in a ball and shaking all over. And still he felt the person's hands on him and the voices crying out and his back felt like am torment and his missing fingers were agony and even his shoulder- fully healed now- had a throbbing pain in it. His head swam and he shook it and reached out towards his father who was staring at him with open eyes.

Hahaha left it there! what will happen next? find out after the break!

please review... remember i'm trying to get this story to 100 reviews! pleaseXD