Porthos wrinkled his nose when Aramis passed him. Aramis stopped and looked at his scrunched up face. "What is it?" He asked, cheerily awaiting an insult.
"Why is it you always seem to smell of flowers?" He laughed. "Trying to bring out your feminine side?"
"It's probably something to do with the the brunette hanging off his arm this morning." D'Artagnan pitched in taking off his leather gloves. They had just been out riding and they were preparing to drown their troubles at the local tavern.
Porthos nudged Aramis laughing with a look that said,'classic Aramis', but he was ready to fight back. "Porthos, you smell like a donkeys behind, I think that's why I turn more eyes than you." He laughed and walked a safe distance away from his friend.
"Now that's uncalled for..." He said a meschevious grin stretching accross his face as he readied to have a wrestle with his close friend. D'Artagnan watched in amusement from behind while they both glared mockingly at each other. Porthos was about to make a move when Athos arrived, walking between them.
"Are we finished?" His tone was blunt and lessened the smiles on the faces of his companions. He walked down the street on the way to the Wren expecting the others to follow. D'Artagnan hurried at his feet but Porthos and Aramis took a more leisurely stroll behind them, still jostling.
When D'Artagnan caught up with Athos the conversation was scarce, his face was worn and tired from stress and D'Artagnan guessed that he hadn't slept in a long time. Ever since what happened with his wife, he only spoke when it was necessary and he hadn't graced anyone with even the smallest of smiles. As a group it was a constant competition as to who would make him smile first. D'Artagnan was sure that his hard work in training would triumph, Aramis tried to introduce him to a lot of women and Porthos... Tried being himself.
Porthos came forward and pushed his head between their two heads, his arms wrapped around their necks. "Cheer up!" He cried "I think I will be very lucky on the cards tonight." He winked slyly at D'Artagnan who smiled (Porthos had a bad reputation in his card games) but all Athos managed was a disapproving glare.
Aramis was about to join the three infront when a group of hands dragged him round the corner and forcing him back onto a cart. One of them had his leather gloved hands pushing against his mouth throat so that he could barely breath never mind make a sound. Somewhere in the madness he managed to get an arm free, he jabbed back with his elbow and the man holding his mouth gave a yelp and loosened his grip. He yanked himself forward and, realising he still couldn't yell, brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled, a short sharp whistle that echoed across the nearby streets.
The three Musketeers sharply turned on their heels, D'Artagnan was the first to react, as he had already noticed Aramis missing. He sprinted in the direction the whistle had come from, closely followed by the other two. Adrenaline pumped through D'Artagnan's veins as he saw the cart pulling away. Only just by a sprint did he manage to board the cart that was now racing away at top speed. Too fast for the others to catch up.
When on the cart he saw four men Aramis were trying to fight off and another one holding the reins at the front. He dove into action shoving one man off the cart and digging his sword into the next and for a moment it seems the two Musketeers would win. Suddenly a musket ball flew into Aramis' arm and he cried out in pain.
"Don't move or I'll kill ya." Growled one of the men in the front seat, he waved a newly loaded musket at them and then passed it to his ally left standing amongst the two Musketeers. The man in the front smiled grimly, "Aramis, someone put a price on your 'ead son, so your coming with me whether you like it or not."
"Care to put a wager on that?" D'Artangnan smirked, grabbed Aramis by the shoulders and shoved him off the cart with all his might. He tumbled onto the soft mud floor of the streets further out from the town and was unharmed.
As for D'Artagnan, the second man had whacked him round the head with the musket so quickly that D'Artagnan didn't even know what hit him. "Stop!" cried the man, we lost the cargo." But as he looked back to where Aramis had fallen he saw two Musketeers pass him on thunderous horses, heading straight for them. "Go faster!"
Athos had just caught up with the cart, his eyes piercing and his face full of rage. He was ahead of Porthos because his horse was faster and he was lighter, but most of all the ditirmination is what got him there. When in line he pulled out his musket and aimed at the man holding the reins but the second man was faster, he shot at his horse but narrowly missed throwing Athos of target and causing him to miss with his shot, startling Porthos' horse so that it almost threw him off and forcing him to stop. This gave the man just a second while Athos drew his sword but that was all that was needed. He grabbed D'Artagnan's sword that lay beside him. He knew he would never beat a Musketeer is a sword fight but he didn't need to.
"Stop!" He yelled, dragged D'Artagnan up by his hair and put the sword against his throat. "Stop now or I'll slit his throat." They man licked blood away from his lips from where Aramis had elbowed him in the face, he gritted his teeth and dug the sword into his neck so that a trickle of blood seeped out. But his hands were shaking and sweat pored from his face, he was no murderer but Athos didn't dare push him in this state.
Just then D'Artagnan stirred, it took him a few seconds to realised the situation and when the blade cut into his neck he took action. He grabbed the sword, the opposite end to were the man was holding it, and ripped it out of his grip. In the confusion he shoved D'Artagnan off of the cart so he fell and hit a stationary wagon on the side of the dusty road. While the man was still dazed Athos struck, stabbing the man in the chest so that he collapsed among the other two men who had attacked them earlier and now lay motionless. A twinge of guilt struck him momentarily but then he had tried to kill his close friend and that was unacceptable.
Though he longed to finish off the other man left on the cart, he heard D'Artagnan cry out in pain and pulled the reins so that his horse came to a stop. When Athos reached D'Artagnan he saw his face screwed up in pain as he clutched his shoulder. Porthos had just caught up but before he could dismount Athos ordered him to get Aramis as D'Artagnan needed medical help.
It was just minutes later that Aremis returned on Porthos' horse, he leaped down and rushed over to check his new patient. "He's dislocated his shoulder." He said bluntly, he ordered the other two to hold him down. "This is going to sting." He said looking straight at the boy, "on three." D'Artagnan nodded, "one" Cried Aremis and shoved the arm back into the socket.
D'Artagnan cried out in pain but was securely held down by his friends. "You call that three?" He yelled and Porthos laughed heartily as they helped the young Musketeer to his feet.