Hi all,
I'm back with a new story - this time trying something new and playing a little with supernatural/horror themes. Warning for some grisly images and violence/hurt.
Athos and D'Artagnan play a slightly larger role, but it's a four hander most of the story, with the adversary when he?she makes an appearance.
The_Ghoul has also created some wonderful artwork for the story - read the story on A03 to see it.
Happy reading :)
No wonder therefore 'tis, if over-power'd,
So many of them has the Wolf devour'd.*
~Histoires et contes du temps passé, avec des moralités - Perrault~
Chapter 1
Black posts loom up out of the mist, indistinct, but the only feature in that silent landscape.
D'Artagnan's slim hand reaches out. "This is hopeless. I can barely see two feet ahead."
"Damn it all, Athos." A sodden splash and Porthos' orphaned voice from the darkness.
According to locals, the tavern was only a few leagues away on the winding east road. Long and tedious days were behind them - weeks away from the comforts of home - and so it was that cold and bone-tired, Athos had opted for a shortcut.
Now, squinting against the blinding mist, he attempts to make out the structure ahead. The sparse posts reach skyward, a tall crossbeam nearly hidden - perhaps the entrance to a stable - but a far cry from the homely inn which they seek.
"Admit it," Aramis says with cheery superiority. "We're lost. We should have taken the road. The tavern will have shut its doors by now. We may as well make the best of it and bunk down until the mist clears."
"You promised," Porthos grunts, his boot eliciting an obscene squelch as he battles the marshy ground. "The best ale within a hundred leagues of Paris, I was told. Little help?"
Athos stands back while D'Artagnan goes to Porthos' aid. "I will admit that the long way around may have been more prudent - but I made no such promise. And although it may surprise you to hear it," he adds scornfully, "Old Maurus has no taste in ale."
"Maurus hasn't been able to taste anything since he had his teeth pulled years back," Aramis chimes in.
D'Artagnan agrees breathlessly, finally succeeding in freeing Porthos' leg. "He's right you know, Porthos. I saw him chewing on raw garlic the other morning."
"Medicinal perhaps." Aramis grins. "Or a talisman against admirers."
A strategy you might consider employing yourself," Athos suggests flatly, Aramis' cheery tone grating on his nerves. "Very well. The structure ahead may not be the tavern, but it may provide a little shelter."
"Structure?"
He raises an eyebrow to suggest the boy pay more attention to his surroundings, but the black posts are no longer visible. The whiteness swirls, chill fingers against his neck. Disoriented, he turns, pulling his scarf more tightly about his throat. "-The mist - it must have closed in."
"Just our luck," D'Artagnan sighs. "I'll go ahead -."
"Stay," Athos says without explanation. "Keep together."
They move on slowly, taking turns to pull each other free as the mud sucks at their limbs, drawing them down, sapping their strength. No stranger to the effects of exhaustion and hunger, Athos does not voice his unease when the posts fails to appear, only a widening expanse of marshland stretching on ahead.
The rain picks up, a constant trickle that seeps down the backs of their collars and into their boots.
At first he thinks he is imagining the sounds, the splashing of their boots and Porthos' grumbles disguising any other noise, but after several moments Athos puts out a hand to block D'Artagnan's progress. Porthos and Aramis come to a halt behind, and they all listen as one.
It is unmistakable.
"Wolves." Even through the cursed mist Athos can make out the sudden mark of terror on Porthos' face. "Athos, it's wolves."
They all strain their ears once more to catch the distant sounds, and when the howls begin again, they are nearer.
"I don't hear anything." D'Artagnan tips his head, birdlike, towards Porthos. His forehead creases in concentration. "Except the wind perhaps -"
"Is the city boy scared of the Big Bad Wolf?"* Aramis elbows Porthos good naturedly.
"Athos?" Porthos ignores the marksman's ribbing. "You can hear it?"
Athos hesitates, considering. He knows of Porthos' aversion, a rabid dog having come upon them once in an alley, teeth bared and hackles raised. His stolid friend had shrunk away, incapacitated.
"I hear something - but I am not certain..." he says slowly in a diplomatic attempt to both lend his support and avoid confirmation of the man's fears.
"There it is again," Porthos moans, gritted teeth shining in the dark, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold.
Athos has never encountered wolves in the wild, save for an injured animal as a boy. The howling is closer now, conjuring the tearing teeth and claws.
"You are serious?" Aramis turns Porthos by the shoulder to face him. The large musketeer's gaze flicks away into the darkness.
"I can't hear anything. Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm bloody sure." Porthos raises his drawn sword and lets them see the tremor in his usually steady grip. His breath seizes and he shrinks back from Aramis' hold. "I can't face this-"
Athos draws his own blade, the shriek of metal breaking into their exchange.** "I do not know what is out there - perhaps only hunting dogs. But there are four of us. We are armed. We will stay together and we will find shelter."
"Here," D'Artagnan holds out his pistol to Porthos. After weeks on the road, and on the eve of their return to Paris, their remaining ammunition is limited to two shots.
Porthos swallows at the offer, his chin set, but closes his large hand over D'Artagnan's. "You keep it. You've got my back."
D'Artagnan nods, his concern for their comrade, who he has never yet seen falter, not quite assuaged.
They move more quickly now, and Athos does not miss the confused glance that passes between D'Artagnan and Aramis when they think Porthos is not looking.
They have only been moving a few minutes when D'Artagnan trips and falls, Athos' reaching hand catching at empty air.
"Ugh." Crawling back to all fours, D'Artagnan groans, the sound more frustration than pain. Despite protestations as to his well being, the Gascon does not rise immediately, and Aramis kneels to check for damage.
"You're soaking wet - and bleeding."
A dark shape at the corner of Athos' vision hints at the silhouette of a structure, and with growing dread he begins to recognise the posts and crossbeam for what they are.
"Careful!" D'Artagnan pulls back from Aramis' probing fingers at his temple.
"It's a deep cut - what did this?"
Beside Athos, Porthos fidgets.
Grateful for the distraction, Athos drops into a crouch and reaches into the dark until he feels curved stone beneath his fingers. The small headstone, now marked with D'Artagnan's blood, is chill to the touch.
"Graves," Porthos intones. "We're in a graveyard."
"That's good news," Aramis says reassuringly.
"It doesn't feel like good news." D'Artagnan winces, one hand pressed to his forehead, as he crawls forward to examine the stone.
"There's likely a church near by. I'll scout ahead - see if there is some shelter where we can examine the wound in comfort. Look after D'Artagnan."
With growing apprehension, Athos watches Aramis disappear into the mist, the man's step light and determined. Porthos crouches down beside D'Artagnan, but his eyes wander distractedly into the dark.
As though struck by a snake, D'Artagnan recoils from the headstone he had been examining.
"Did you read this?" He scrubs a hand across his muddy face in disbelief. "Did you read it?!"
Athos grabs the boy's wrist, preventing him from frantically rubbing more foul water into his eyes. He bends low, attempting to make out the freshly carved lettering in the darkness.
Constance Bonacieux. 1631.
Notes:
* In case you're wondering, the story of Red Riding Hood was in oral circulation at the time, but likely not in published form, and with different moral overtones
** Aware that swords being drawn don't make this sound, but included for dramatic effect :p
Thanks for taking the time to read!
A little departure from the usual genre, so would love to hear if you enjoyed, and if you plan to keep reading :)