Gilan grimaced as he was thrown to the hard ground. Again. He felt his broken bones scream at him but he gritted his teeth determinedly. He wanted with every fiber of his being to scream and writhe every single time those men touched him or moved him and jostled his leg, but he held his own. The last thing he wanted was to give these men any satisfaction. But he couldn't stop himself from flinching every time one of them came near him. He looked away as one of them stood over him.
"Getting uncomfortable yet?" the man smirked, "I sure hope so. It will be mighty interesting to see how Ranger Halt reacts to his dear little apprentice broken and crazy."
"You're the crazy ones," Gilan gritted his teeth then winced when his jaw slipped and rammed into his tongue, drawing blood, "if you think Halt won't find me soon."
"Oh he'll find you," the man grinned maliciously, "but not all of you."
Gilan shuddered away from the man, what the heck did that mean? Whatever happened to him, he hoped they did it soon. Until now, he'd been able to hold back the pain, forcing himself to recognize it but not allowing it to engulf him like it wanted to. His vision blurred and a muffled shriek tore through him as the man kicked his foot. Pain shot up his body, causing him to jerk away.
"Yeah," the man smirked, "this will be interesting."
Gilan watched him with blurry vision as he walked off to join the other men. He let his head drop to the ground and breathed deeply, forcing deep breaths past his broken and battered ribs and lungs. He allowed one tear to slip past then gritted his teeth, refusing to allow any weakness to show. It was something Halt had drilled into his head for several years now. Never let your opponent know that you feel beaten, because, when you least expect it, Gil, you'll start to believe it yourself. It'll give you the strength you need to continue. Gilan knew it was slightly faulty logic but he didn't care. He held on to the echo of his mentor's words and forced himself to act strong. He glared stubbornly at the men as they gathered around a small fire.
With nothing happening, Gilan's mind began to wander. With his mind's eye, he found himself back in the clearing with Halt. Shooting and throwing knives. Then they were next to the fireplace and Halt was bandaging Gilan's hand, injured from an exercise gone wrong. He remembered the freedom of the meadow behind the cabin, the pure delight he felt from even one nod of satisfaction from Halt. He remembered the first time he'd hugged Halt, the way Halt had frozen up and then relaxed. The feeling of his mentor's strong arms around him after he'd fallen out of a tree. The time that Halt was sick, and Gilan had to care for him. Even the times that they had just been sitting doing nothing.
Gilan realized that he was crying. Silently, yes, but still crying. He understood why. All his memories with Halt would probably only ever memories now. These men would kill him before they let Halt have him back. Gilan shook those thoughts out of his head and wiped his eyes on his shoulder. The men from the group were beginning to take down camp and pack it onto their horses. Gilan frowned, it was almost sunset. No one traveled at night. It just wasn't safe. He looked up as the leader, known only to him as Boss, stood up from the fire and crossed over to him. A knife glinting in his hand.
***Line Break***
Crowley pushed Cropper up next to Abelard as Halt pulled the dappled grey to a stop. They both stood in the stirrups and shielded their eyes from the setting sun. Halt groaned and rubbed his face in frustration.
"We have to stop," he told his best friend, "Cropper and Abelard need to rest."
"So do we," Crowley corrected his friend, "Halt, you have to try to sleep. Don't make me drug your coffee again."
Crowley was referencing only a few days earlier. Crowley, with Halt refusing rest and on the brink of collapse, had dumped a simple sleeping drought into Halt's coffee. The Hibernian had been none to happy with the red-head, but it had been necessary. Crowley didn't regrt it in the least. It had given him time to go through paperwork and organize several search parties.
Halt grunted, "humph," he dismounted and pulled out his bedroll, "there. Happy?"
"I'd be happier if I knew you would actually sleep," Crowley sighed, "but I know when my luck has been pushed to it's extent."
Halt sighed and went about gathering firewood and getting out their small supply of rations, "you know I can't sleep. Not until we find him."
Crowley draped Abelard and Cropper's reins over a branch and set to helping his friend, "I know that, but you can still try. Start by not drinking coffee at midnight, maybe that'll get you somewhere."
Halt glanced over at Crowley, "listen, you can get as much sleep as you want. I can't sleep while my apprentice is out there going through who knows what, and is scared and hurt, and... and... who knows what else!"
Crowley sighed, "fine. But if you doze off, I'm not waking you until the morning."
***Line Break***
Gilan's heart pounded as the man approached him, knife glinting in the firelight. He shrank back as the man knelt next to him, playing with the tip of the blade.
"It's very interesting, " the man smiled, "what a man will do when he loses someone he loves."
Gilan didn't answer, choosing instead to duck his head away. He groaned in pain as the man jostled his leg.
"Yes," the man continued as if they were having a conversation, "some men become a shell of themselves, while others launch an elaborate revenge plan. I wonder which one you mentor will be? When he finds you dead in the woods, I do hope he tries to get revenge. I would love to see him on the edge of my blade."
"Stay away from him," Gilan snapped, unable to hold his comment back at the obvious threat to Halt.
The man slapped him sharply, "I do not think you are the one to be giving orders here," he growled, "besides, you have no idea what you've entered into, do you?"
Gilan's anger turned to confusion at the man's words. What was he talking about? The man laughed at the apprentice.
"Jason, why don't you tell him," he called over his shoulder.
A young man walked over and turned his head to the side, revealing a long twisting scar that ran the length of his neck and disappeared under his shirt, "your mentor gave me that. I didn't do anything wrong and he came out of no where and attacked me. He almost killed me."
"But... I thought..." he gestured to the insignia's on their shirts.
"Oh yes, these little things," the man laughed, "these were just to throw you and your friend. See, you're rangers. We knew one of you was bound to try and escape. On the slim chance that one of you got away," he pointed to the insignia, "well, let's just say this was our assurance," he grinned maliciously, "and so are you."
Gilan felt a cold hand grab his heart and squeeze, "what are you gonna do with me?"
The men exchanged looks of... glee, "we're going to use you," Jason's face was practically touching Gilan's now, "to break Halt."
DUHDUHDUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHH! Well, are you excited yet? I really hope you are. The next chapter is a whirlwind so bring your tissues and your swords. It will make you angry and sad. ;) I will probably post sometime either tonight or tomorrow so be on the lookout!
-storyspinner16