Free Lunatic by Ted Dekker

door rattled open and torchlight poured into the hall. Darsal squeezed her eyes shut and risked the pain to curl up tighter. Her body screamed in protest, making her whimper.
    "Stand up," the guard ordered. The others started shuffling. Darsal didn't move. The Scab rattled her cage door. "Stand up!"
    She stirred, quivering. The gash on her arm throbbed and a vein pounded against her temple. She staggered to her feet, ignoring the onslaught of pain and what felt like at least three broken ribs.
    Xedan and Jordan were already on their feet.
    Darsal grabbed a bar and pulled herself the rest of the way up. Dry blood crackled on her lip and nose.
    Her right knee popped, caving on her.
    Cursing, she gripped the metal tighter, holding herself upright. Her whole body felt swollen twice its normal size and incredibly heavy. Her skull outweighed an elephant.
    This wasn't the guard. He was a little older than Jordan and had an officer's insignia. General.
    Marak.
    The Scab gave them each a chunk of bread, a piece of fruit, and water in a skin.
    "What do you want?" she asked.
    But he wasn't interested in her. He went to Jordan's cage and stopped in front of him. The two men regarded each other. Darsal sensed a history there. Enemies of long standing, equally matched in strength and cunning, and a high respect and knowledge of the other.

    Jordan kept his arms loose, refusing to pull on the shackles, fists knotting. Shoulders back, chin level with the guard's. It wasn't anger or even hate in his eyes, though.
    It was sorrow. An unyielding, broken grief, oppressing the whole room.
    Marak's gaze, however, had nothing but bitterness and scorn. And perhaps the kind of pity that comes when you think a person is hopelessly deceived and there's nothing left to be done about it.
    And now Darsal could see the men's resemblance to one another. Marak's scaly white skin made it difficult, but he and the old man and Jordan had similar builds, similar expressions.
    They looked related.
    Jordan drew his lips tightly together. "I won't change my mind."
    "This can end." Marak put his hands up on the bars. His chalky gray eyes stared at the slightly smaller, younger prisoner. His voice was low, deep. "Just tell me where they are.,,
    "It could end if you would allow it." Jordan's chin lowered, then rose again to Marak. "Don't let Qurong turn you into a coward."
    "You're the coward."
    Jordan flinched. He looked once more at Marak. "If you say so."

    "Sucrow is forcing my hand."
    "Sucrow. Are you blind, Marak?" Jordan's fists knotted. "I hope you're enjoying this." He thrust a finger at Rona. "Open your eyes."
    Marak scowled and wouldn't look down at the woman. "I won't enjoy watching you die." But he glanced toward the door, afraid the guard might overhear.
    "But you'll be there. You'll do nothing and stand there while we're-"
    A sharp look from Xedan cut him off.
    "It's better than watching the disease take you," Marak whispered at last. He glanced at Xedan, then Rona, and back to Jordan. "Now that I can't watch."
    "Why are you here?" Jordan repeated.
    "It won't be much longer. Qurong is putting Sucrow over my head."
    Silence. Jordan's lips pressed tight.
    Marak caught Darsal's stare and returned it for a long beat, then he broke away and walked into the darkness. The door clanged shut.
    "DEFINITELY HEADED SOUTH," CASSAK MUSED. HE AND Warryn lay on their stomachs on an overhang, observing through a spyglass the ten men they knew to be the Eramite half-breeds. All on horseback. All armed.

    "Order your men to attack now."
    "Patience. The priest may be in command, but you are not him. We don't need a second front."
    Admittedly, the temptation to take out the rebels while they were so close and unaware was strong.
    But his orders were to keep the peace.
    "Bloody rabble-rouser," Warryn muttered.
    Eram had lured about a third of their people into the northwest desert shortly after the drowning incident, two years and two generals ago.
    "There's a reason he was