Gazing over at his friends still asleep, locked together in each other's arms, the tears welled up in his eyes. Mike - he had sacrificed himself for Micky. Allowed himself to be abused in such a way, all in the name of love. They couldn't abandon him now - they had to go back.

Mike was alone. Only a solitary guard was by the door outside. He had heard their conversation as they left. Apparently there was some banquet taking place in the great hall and everyone would be attending. All except the guard who'd drawn the short straw. Mike tried to move to get a closer glimpse to beyond the doorway but the ropes and chains that bound him against the wall prevailed him from seeing out.

Mike tried to comprehend why this was happening, he'd tried to be strong - he had to be. Micky was too weak to cope unaided, he needed Mike. The pain surging through Mike's fragile body was causing his mind to fog. He couldn't even remember where the others had gone. He creased his eyes closed and tried to think. He could picture Micky so terrified, so remorseful over what he had been forced to do to his friend.

Hazy portrayals of images were coming back to Mike. He was almost too terrified to look down at his naked body. He sent an obligatory gaze southwards to inspect the damage. His cock was now limp, the splinters of wood still protruding through the sides. The remnants of dried blood that had trickled down onto his leg, whilst the wound itself was turning a bluish black colour made Mike feel a sickness rising in his stomach. He could see the pool of blood on the floor and knew if he stayed there much longer in that state, he could soon be dead.

Again he pulled at the ropes binding his hands to the stone wall, it was no use he hadn't the energy to free himself and even if he did, what then? He would be seized and killed. Maybe that would be blessing though after what he had suffered already. After all what was there to live for, Micky was gone, either sold into slavery or murdered by Eric, Mike wasn't sure which. Peter and Davy had been sacrificed too, there was nothing left for him to live for.

Micky was tempted to leave and head back to Dragoon's alone. He'd saved Mike for a reason and he wasn't going to let him die now. He knew there wasn't much time, for Mike couldn't possibly survive another day in the condition Micky had left him in. He tried to stand up - every muscle ached. He could barely walk but Micky wasn't thinking logically, he wasn't thinking like a man in love. For once Micky was attempting to stand on his own to feet, he was scared admittedly but the terror he felt within would never compare to the desolation of never having Mike in his life again.

As he stumbled away from the campsite they had built, Micky tripped, his uneven balance causing him to fall. Peter opened one eye at the commotion.

"Micky, whattaya doin'?"

"Peter, I have to go, Mike needs us."

Peter yawned and removed his arm from around the sleeping figure next to him causing Davy to stir slightly. What could Micky be thinking? Surely he didn't believe that Mike was alive. Besides it was suicide the three of them risking their necks for one. He believed that Mike would see it that way too.

"I thought we'd already discussed this. Be reasonable Mick, is he gonna still be alive. After what you told us about what that sick fuck Eric did, I'm not convinced that it's worth the gamble. I'm sure Mike would say the same."

Micky couldn't contemplate what Peter was saying. Mike wasn't worth it. Never! Mike would by no means leave anyone of them. He had been their leader and their rock, he would never let them down and Micky wasn't about to turn his back on him. He turned away and began to walk towards the direction they came from last night.

"Micky, don't be stupid, it's suicide," prompted Davy joining in the conversation but his comments fell the same way Peter's did.

"I'm sorry Davy but you know it is wrong. I guess I still want to assume he's alive, ya know. Look at it from my point of view, would you wanna go back if it was Peter?"

Davy shifted an uncomfortable look in Peter's direction. Obviously they hadn't been as quiet as they expected last night and their little rendezvous had been noted by their band member.

"I guess so. Peter what should we do?"

Peter's new found leadership had unearthed a sense of power inside the usually shy blonde. He felt exhilarated to discover that for once his opinions counted, that they were looking to him to get them through. He stood up and approached Micky.

"Ok Mick, say that Mike is alive, how can we find him? D'ya know how ya got to the village from the castle?"

Micky thought back. All he could picture was Mike's pale and motionless body hanging from the chains. The screams he could hear echoing through his thoughts were his own. The guards had placed a dusty sack over his head and flung him recklessly into the back of a cart. Micky could just about make out the direction he was going in via a small hole in the sack that was leaking sunlight into the encased darkness.

"Yes," he finally answered, "I think so."

"Fine, if we can get back to village then maybe we can get to the castle. How long were ya travelling?"

Micky found all these questions were making his head pound. His intention to rescue Mike had seemed so easy in his own innocent mind. He hadn't empathized with the reality of the situation that they would have to encounter in their quest to locate the castle and Mike.

"Um…..an hour could've been two."

"Great, that miles," sighed Davy "Back to the village must be a good few hours walk from here. It's gonna be dark before we get there and that's if we don't stop."

This realisation from Davy made them all contemplate the journey. They didn't even know if they would be able to go undetected in the village, who knows who was after them. Micky was still as determined as ever despite the agonizing pain he was suffering from the cuts on his back and the tenderness of his groin.

"Look guys, I'll understand if ya don't wanna go back," he said. He could see both his friends were tired and hurting.

"No Micky," replied Peter, touched by his concern. "We are all in this together, if we are careful we can get Mike back and get the fuck outta this hell hole."

Davy nodded, running his hand gently over Peter's back to relieve him that he agreed with his words.

"Thanks, you are real friends." Micky's eyes were stinging with tears once more.

"Ok, we'd better be going," declared Peter gathering together what little possessions they had and helping Davy to his feet. He gave his lover a kiss on the cheek and a glance that reassured him that he wouldn't let any harm to them. Not as long as he was in charge anyway.

Back at Dragoon's Place, Mike was growing weaker. He could feel himself dying inside. His body was shutting down slowly. He had no feeling in his arms anymore, only the chains that held him up were stopping him from sloping to the ground. His chest ached and his head felt heavy. His breathing had become shallow and his mouth cracked and sore from lack of fluid.

He wanted out of this life. He had screamed at the guard outside the door till he was hoarse. "Please end it, kill me please" over and over again, but without success. The guard continued to ignore him. Despite this demand to die, Mike wasn't that brave enough to face death head on. He had given up on his life as it was, but he didn't want to leave this world, not this way. He began to shake, his body temperature had dropped rapidly and the numbness in his fingers and toes was now encasing his whole body. Mike welcomed the fact he couldn't feel any pain but he also realised that this was not a good sign either. It meant his immune system was ceasing to fight the infection creeping round his bloodstream and he would soon be dead.

Mike couldn't stop the tears from flowing, he prayed "Don't let me die, please God don't let me die." This wasn't some bad dream he was going to wake up from, this was his life, a life that would soon be over. "Micky" he called before slipping into unconsciousness.

They began their decent down the hillside and towards the small village that was familiar to Micky. He recognized the wooden poles, standing like crucifix's in the background. He began to tremble slightly, remembering what had happened the last time he was there. They knelt down in the undergrowth on the outskirts of the village, noting the guards that were patrolling the boundaries.

Peter's main concern was Davy, he didn't look well. His eyes were sheathed by dark circles and the cuts on his back were not healing as he expected. He glanced to Micky, he too look ill but his new found determination to find Mike was giving him a new lease of life. But Davy was lagging behind unable to keep up with the pace, he needed to rest.

"Davy, you ok man?"

"Yeah Peter," he smiled warmly at him. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"Liar, you are a stubborn bastard sometimes Mr Jones."

"Peter, please." Davy sensed what Peter was driving at, he wasn't going to be left behind. "I'm coming with you."

"Guys," whispered Micky crawling across the ground to join them. "There is no guards round the side there, if we can get some clothes and disguise ourselves, maybe we can hitch a ride with a cart in the direction of the castle."

"Which is?" asked Peter, sensing that Micky still wasn't certain.

"That road over there, I remember now." Micky pointed to the winding dust track in the distance.

"Ok, let's go."

Mike's eyes sprung open as the ice cold water hit his face. He was confronted with a young boy, probably late teens, staring back at him.

"Who are you?"

"Eric sent me to clean you up," replied the boy.

He unlocked the chains holding Mike's arms and removed the ropes tied across his chest. Mike's body fell forward, he had been left against the wall for so long, his sense of balance had been shot to pieces, and he could barely stand. The boy held his arms out and caught the Texan in his arms. He was surprisingly strong for such a small lad and carefully allowed Mike to lay down on the floor.

"Don't try and escape, there is a guard by the door that has been giving orders to kill you if you do."

"Thanks for the warning," Mike feigned a smile.

The boy began his task, his washed Mike's cuts on his chest with warm water, so tenderly so as not to cause him too much discomfort. Then he wrapped bandages round the deeper wounds. His touch was so gentle, that Mike basked in this attention his was receiving. He let himself imagine that it was Micky that was treating him. Those same delicate fingers, smooth skin and warming presence. Mike closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift into his fantasy.

Suddenly the pain in his groin was excruciating. He let out a loud scream as he realised what he was happening. The boy had the unpleasant task of removing the splintered wood from Mike's rapidly hardening cock.

Mike cried out again as thoughts of Micky fell from his mind. How could he be so fucking stupid! Surely he'd had forgotten what had happened last time.

"Sorry," said the boy his face apologetic. "But you seem so relaxed, I thought it would help if I didn't tell you what I was doing."

"It's not your fault kid, it's that sick fuck you work for."

The boy took the soft material cloth and began to gently wipe away the yellowish white matter forming around the exposed wound. Every touch was hell for Mike. His clenched his fist, turning his knuckles white. The boy then placed the dressing lightly over Mike's cock and wrapped it round concealing the injury within.

"I'm so sorry," the boy said again. "I can't understand why Eric did this to you."

"Maybe I pissed him off," said Mike through gritted teeth.

"Is there anything else I can do?" asked the youth.

"No."

"You just looked so lonely, maybe I could make you feel better."

The boy came closer, pressing his lips hard up against Mike's, slipping his tongue inside his cold mouth warming him instantly. Mike pulled away swiftly, slightly angered by the boy's forwardness.

"Really, you don't need to do that. Is that what Eric told ya to do?"

"No, I just like you that's all." His expression changed as he came closer to Mike once more. " I can help you?" he whispered nibbling gentle on Mike's ear.

"Help me," repeated Mike still confused to who this boy was.

"Yeah, I can get you outta here, far away from Eric. You'd like that wouldn't you."

He kissed Mike again. His hands exploring as he did so, running his fingers lightly up Mike's spine.

Mike's initial belief was that he was dreaming, he must be. After all, he hadn't encountered anyone else willing to help, why should now be any different. Maybe this was what death was like? Maybe this boy was an angel? Mike's face expressed confusion and caused the boy to speak again:

"You can trust me, I hate them. I was a slave like you sent to work here, but I want to get out and we can. Let me help you and quickly before Eric comes back."

The boy's mouth was so inviting that Mike gave in to his unspent passion. He kissed him back, lost in the moment of pleasure. Maybe God had answered his prayers. He withdrew from the kiss, staring deep into the boy's eyes.

"Ok, how do we get outta here?"