Authors note: Thanks for the review of my previous fiction. This one is quite dark and includes some torture, so be warned if that is not your cup of tea.

I aim to put the next chapter up tomorrow.

A Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter one

Porthos was hungry. He was looking forward to his dinner. The nobleman he had been tasked to deliver a letter to had kept him waiting whilst a reply was written. But now he was on his way, cantering along the forest road with ease. He hoped Aramis and d'Artagnan had the camp set up and food prepared.

As he neared the place he would turn off the road a movement caught his eye. He slowed his horse to a walk and spotted what had caught his attention. Two horses, tethered to a low branch of a tree a little off the road. No one was around, the horses were fine looking animals, obviously well kept. Porthos steered his own mount over to the two horses. He looked around, and when he still could not see anyone he dismounted. He carefully checked the area looking for any sign of the owners. He finally spotted a few footprints. They were heading in the direction of the musketeer's camp.

Senses on high alert he returned to his own horse, but rather than remount he walked the horse in the direction of the camp and tied it to another tree. He continued as quietly as possible. He was probably being overly cautious, but it paid to be prepared.

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The hare was still for just a few seconds as it sniffed warily about itself. The pause proved fatal as the well-aimed shot from Aramis' gun pierced its side ending its life. Aramis never really liked killing innocent creatures, but he and his friends needed to eat and he knew that Porthos would be hungry when he got back. They had agreed to meet up after completing their two deliveries before continuing the journey back to Paris together. There had been reports of attacks on the road they had to travel and they were hoping to be able to spoil the bandit's fun.

Aramis scooped up the dead hare and started back towards their camp. They had used the spot before, close enough to a stream, but far enough from the road so as not to draw attention to themselves. It was a quiet and relaxing place to spend the night with good company.

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Porthos would be back soon and he would be hungry, D'Artagnan thought as he busied himself starting the fire which they would cook their food on. Aramis was off catching them a rabbit, or something, he had been a bit non-committal over what he would be able to catch when he had left a while ago.

The fire was lit and catching well on the dry bits of kindling he was feeding it. He looked up as a man he did not know approached their camp. The man appeared to be trying to smile, but it was more like a sneer. D'Artagnan instinctively put his hand to his sword but stilled when the approaching stranger levelled a gun at him.

'I don't think so pretty,' he said, his sneering smile contorting as he spoke.

D'Artagnan spread his hands to show he was not a threat. 'What do you want?' he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

'You.'

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to reply but did not get the chance as a blow to the side of his head had him seeing a flash of white light and then the ground rushing up to meet him then nothing.

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Something was wrong, Aramis had a bad feeling, he could not work out why, but the camp seemed too quiet. He knew that Porthos would not be back just yet but there should have at least been the sight of d'Artagnan pottering about preparing the fire and sorting the horse out.

Aramis did not notice d'Artagnan lying on the ground until it was too late. Just as he reacted, reaching for his gun he saw two men pointing their own weapons. One was trained on him and one on the still form of his young friend who must have been unconscious. Aramis paused, he was caught, there was nothing he could do whilst one of the strangers was threatening his injured comrade.

'I'm glad you have made the right choice musketeer,' said one of the men. He was dressed well, not a common robber or peasant. The gun he was holding was well looked after and Aramis could not chance that it would misfire if he were to try and rush the man. He was slightly taller than Aramis and about ten years older, he carried himself upright and with authority.

The other man was a little younger and shorter, and clearly a subordinate to the first man. He was smirking at their captive, his gun wavering as he did so.

'Phillipe,' said the first man, 'much as I would have liked to just play with that pretty young thing, you hit him harder than you should have done, so I think we will have to make do with this one until he,' the man indicated the prone form of d'Artagnan, 'wakes up.'

Aramis looked down at d'Artagnan and saw the bruising and trickle of blood on his temple, he was lying on his side. It worried Aramis that the men had not bound their prisoner. Just how hard had he been hit? Much as he wanted to go to d'Artagnan's aid he knew these men were serious with whatever their intentions were.

'Practice makes perfect,' said Phillipe. He retrained his gun on Aramis, 'weapons on the ground.'

Aramis did as he was told, his gaze never leaving the older man, 'What do you want from us? We don't carry much money and even though we are musketeers, at this moment in time we have no important papers…nothing of value to you. Why don't you just leave now, before you do anything really stupid?'

He knew it was probably hopeless but if there was even the slightest chance the men would see reason and let them be he wanted to take it.

'You hear that Jean,' said Phillipe glancing at the older man, 'he thinks we want their property.'

Jean laughed and using his gun to indicate the direction he said, 'over there. My friend, we don't want your things we have a more physical plan for you and then your young friend, although you may get off lightly, so to speak, if your pretty friend wakes up soon. What I mean to say is, once he is awake we won't want you anymore.'

Aramis swallowed, this was not going in the direction he had expected. His mind raced as he tried to calculate plans of escape whilst continuing to wonder what the men were going to do to him and d'Artagnan. He hoped Porthos would get back soon, this was fast becoming a very dangerous situation.

'That will do, take off your jacket.'

When Aramis did not move Phillipe walked back over to d'Artagnan and casually pointed his gun at the unconscious man. Aramis saw that it was indeed hopeless, he had to submit to these men's demands or they would hurt d'Artagnan. He also realised that he was on borrowed time. Whilst he did not like the fact the d'Artagnan was still unconscious at the moment it seemed to be the only reason he was still alive.

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'Jacket,' said Phillipe simply as he continued to point his gun at d'Artagnan.

Aramis slowly took his doublet off and dropped it on the ground next to him.

'Good, now, do as you are told and I won't find a need to shoot your friend.'

Aramis looked at Phillipe and said, 'what is the point of threatening to kill my friend, you have already made it quite clear you are really only interested in him, not me. If you kill him surely you will just kill me as well.'

'Who said we were going to kill him. There are many ways we can harm your friend without killing him…' replied Phillipe, 'now over to that tree, back towards the trunk, hands behind you.'

Phillipe indicated a tree to Aramis' left. He walked over to it and turned his back to the trunk and did as he had been ordered, putting his hands behind him on either side of the trunk. Phillipe pulled a rope from a bag on the ground and walked behind Aramis roughly grabbing his hands and tightly binding them, the rope was wound up his wrists forcing his shoulders uncomfortably back. Aramis knew he was not going anywhere unless they untied him. He was totally helpless. Again, he hoped Porthos would not be long.

Now that Aramis was secure Jean walked over leaving d'Artagnan. He reached into the bag and pulled out a leather strap with a buckle. He walked up to Aramis and stood close enough for him to smell the man's foul breath.

'Now we can have some fun…and just think…when we are done with you we are going to do this to your pretty friend over there,' said Jean indicating the young musketeer.

Jean leaned around Aramis who realised what was happening with a sickening feeling. The leather strap was stung around his neck and the trunk of the tree and buckled tightly enough to force him to keep his head up or he would struggle to breath. These men were clearly sadistic as they both stood back and admired their work. All Aramis could do was glare at them as he tried and failed to adjust his feet to make himself even slightly more comfortable.

'Now we can begin.'

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