Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter - I was truly overwhelmed by the response. Hope you enjoy this next installment.
When d'Artagnan and Athos had given chase, Aramis had huffed in annoyance before he grudgingly threw himself into a run and followed Porthos who had already given pursuit. Running was one of Aramis' least favorite things to do, and running through the deluge that had water running into the collar of his doublet and soaking the shirt underneath just made the experience that much worse. In his mind, Musketeers were not made for running. Chasing bandits on horseback, using all manner of weapons to heroically save the day, possibly resulting in the appreciative affections of the fairer sex - those were all things that fell under the purview of the Musketeers, but those shouldn't involve running.
Gasping for another lungful of air, Aramis lifted his face to the rain to confirm he hadn't lost Porthos and then put his head back down as he ran. Porthos, he knew, didn't mind running, having done more than his fair share while growing up in the Court of Miracles. Aramis scowled at the look of intense joy that Porthos got on his face when he ran, much preferring to use his own two feet than to be on the back of a four-footed beast. Porthos took a sharp left and Aramis slipped around the corner to follow him, realizing that they now headed away from their two friends and that Porthos must be planning to cut the man off by using his intimate knowledge of Paris' back alleys and laneways.
They ran for several more minutes, taking lefts and rights that to Aramis seemed completely random, but Porthos never faltered. When the large man finally slowed to a stop, Aramis stumbled beside him, planting a hand on a building to his right and looking inquiringly at his friend. Porthos was looking around, confusion written on his face, "They should be here."
Aramis searched the area around them, panting for air, offering a shrug, "Perhaps we beat them here?"
"No," Porthos shook his head, "they had a shorter route. They should be here," Porthos repeated. As Aramis was considering his response, they felt the ground at their feet tremble and the two men shared a surprised look. Porthos was the first to recover, again drawing on his knowledge of the Parisian streets and he pushed Aramis back against the building beside them, pressing his body against the other man's. The trembling increased and climaxed with a deafening roar, and when Porthos released Aramis the two men looked to where the street had been, seeing a gaping hole in its place.
"Tunnels," Porthos explained at Aramis' disbelieving look, "they run all over the place. Sometimes they get unstable and then this happens."
"Huh." It was perhaps not the most intelligent comment, but Aramis was still astonished at the sight, having never seen anything like it.
"Come on," Porthos tugged at his friend's arm, "we'd best get back to the garrison. Athos and d'Artagnan will likely be back there, with or without our man." Aramis nodded, following his friend, giving the hole a wide berth as they made their way back.
Both men were surprised to find Athos and d'Artagnan absent from the garrison, but reasoned that it could be taking the two more time to return, especially if they had to detour around some of the collapsed tunnels. Apparently the cave-in they'd seen was one of three such incidents, one having given way just two streets over from their location, while another was further yet. The two Musketeers stayed close to the courtyard in anticipation of their friends' return, nursing cups of wine as they sheltered under an overhang in an effort to stay dry. Both would have been far happier inside, close to a roaring fire, but neither man could relax until the foursome were reunited. A half hour turned into one and then slowly crawled toward two, by which time both men had given up any pretense of calmness and were arguing about whether they should report to Treville before heading out to search for their missing comrades. Treville solved their dilemma by appearing outside his office door, having kept an eye on the two since they'd returned. With a wave of his hand he indicated his desire to see them and they both ran into the rain and up the stairs to the Captain's office, trying to avoid the worst of the downpour.
When they presented themselves to the Captain, he wasted no time with pleasantries, already having deduced that something was wrong. "Well?"
Porthos shrugged uncomfortably and looked at his silver-tongued friend, hoping the other man would explain, "We're not sure. We had our man in sight and were chasing him but then we split up at the Rue St. Claire. Porthos," Aramis glanced at his friend, "knew a shortcut so we skirted around in order to cut them off."
Porthos took up the tale next, "They should have beaten us there, but there weren't no sign of 'em. Maybe they were slowed down by one of the tunnels that collapsed?" he suggested.
The Captain looked up sharply at the large man's comment, "What route exactly did Athos and d'Artagnan take?"
"Not sure," Porthos answered, "but they were heading toward the Seine."
Treville stood and pulled a rolled piece of parchment from his credenza, unrolling it atop his desk. He pointed to their location as well as two others, "There were three collapses; here, here, and here."
Aramis exchanged glances with Porthos, "Was anyone hurt at any of these sites?"
Treville shook his head, "No, the rains seemed to have pushed most people indoors and the streets have been emptier than usual."
"Then we should go back and investigate and see if we can find any indication of where they might have gone," Aramis declared.
Porthos was already nodding his agreement, "Aye, try to follow the path they took and see if anyone knows anything."
Treville agreed, "Report back as soon as you know anything and let me know if you need more men for the search."
The two turned and left the Captain's office, eager to begin the hunt for their friends. They quickly retraced their path to the Rue St. Claire where they had parted ways, but this time moved forward in the direction they'd last seen their friends travelling in. Along the way, they saw the occasional signs that indicated they were on the right track, including an outraged vendor who was upset at the Musketeers' crazy race through the streets and Athos' cloak, which he'd obviously discarded so it didn't hamper him during the chase, and which Aramis picked up in order to return it to his friend. They had now stopped again, looking for clues of their friend's whereabouts when they were hailed by a wine-sodden voice. Turning, Porthos spotted the man who'd spoken, sitting at the base of a house, barely protected from the drizzle that persisted. Sending Aramis a look to let him know where he was going, Porthos made his way over to the man who squinted up at him through the rain.
"You a Musketeer?" he slurred.
"Aye, you seen any other Musketeers around earlier?" Porthos asked.
The man nodded, "You tryin' to find 'em?" Porthos gave a nod in reply. "What's it worth to ya?"
Porthos raised an eyebrow in warning, letting the man know that he was not to be trifled with. "Depends on the quality of your information," he drawled.
The man motioned a hand toward a doorway across the street, "Saw them chase someone in there. A young one with long dark hair and he was followed by an older man wearing a hat."
Porthos examined the door the man referred to, already dreading the answer, but needing to confirm his suspicions, "Do you know where that goes?"
"Sure, everyone knows; that goes down into the tunnels. Hope your friends didn't get caught in there when they collapsed today." Porthos' eyes widened, certain in the knowledge that his missing friends had been caught in the cave-in. Digging a few coins from his purse, he tossed them to the man before hurriedly crossing the street to share what he'd learned.
Aramis listened intently to Porthos' theory and put a hand on his friend's arm when he tried to move toward the door. "We should inform Treville."
Porthos pulled his arm away, "Let's have a quick look first; that way we'll have more information for the Captain." Aramis hesitated, understanding that Porthos' objective wasn't information collection but the need to check for their friends. With a short nod he agreed and they moved through the door and into the dim entryway. Waiting for a few moments for their eyes to adjust, Porthos snagged a torch from the wall as he led the way down the stairs, "If this is one of the affected tunnels, the force of the cave-in probably put out the other torches that were lit."
The two men moved quickly, soon coming upon signs of the collapse, having to navigate larger piles of rubble as they went. They stopped when they found their path completely blocked and Aramis looked at the obstructed way ahead of them in horror, now joining Porthos in his feelings of dread at the thought that their brothers might be trapped on the other side. Porthos didn't waste any time but moved forward to test the sturdiness of the pile in front of them. "It'll take more hands than ours to shift this aside," he declared.
Aramis sighed and asked, "Do you know where another entrance will take us to the other side?" Porthos nodded and again led the way, returning to the soggy streets above ground and leading them several roads over to another innocuous door. It took only a few minutes to discover that the tunnel was similarly blocked and Aramis scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "Can you follow the path of the tunnels above ground?" he asked. At Porthos' inclined head, he continued. "Good, follow it as best you can and see if there's another way we can get down there. I'll report our findings to Treville and gather men and supplies so we can begin digging. I'll meet you back at the first entrance in an hour."
The two exited the tunnel and parted ways, Aramis heading for the garrison while Porthos followed the path through the Parisian streets, looking for any sign of their friends and for any access points to the passageway beneath his feet.
d'Artagnan had lost all concept of time, dozing intermittently before being woken by Athos' concerned calls or when the intensity of his throbbing side grew too severe for him to ignore, even in sleep. It had been early morning when they had entered the tunnels and Athos believed that he had been unconscious for quite a while before he'd awoken to find them trapped. Based on the limited amount of light that was let in through the partial break above them, the young man estimated that it was around late afternoon.
He and Athos had talked for a while, but Athos was not known for his conversational skills at the best of times and this was definitely far from being the best of times. d'Artagnan had tried to carry the conversation for a while but he was tired from the pain of his side and his head still felt foggy, leading him to think he might have suffered a concussion. Athos had done his best to wake him when he fell asleep, but the older man was having difficulties of his own as he lay pinned beneath the rubble, jolted by the occasional stabs of pain that let him know that if his broken leg wasn't freed soon, he'd be at risk of losing the limb. During his waking periods the Gascon had stubbornly continued shifting the rocks and other debris that covered his mentor, focusing on the right side in order to uncover the damaged leg.
d'Artagnan could feel himself growing weaker as the hours wore on and, despite the fact that Athos had done his best to bandage his injury, he could feel the wetness as his side continued to seep. Added to his blood loss was the fact that he'd been sick twice more, bringing up nothing but bile with the unproductive cramping of his stomach. The only consolation was that they'd had some water, d'Artagnan putting his mouth directly under the run off that came through the roof above them, and soaking a handkerchief so that he could dribble the liquid into Athos' mouth. The Gascon shifted another large stone, stumbling off balance as it shifted, only to find his mentor gasping in pain. He dropped to the man's side immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Athos, what is it?"
Athos panted for several more inhalations before he opened his eyes, "When you shifted that rock," he started, pausing for another breath, "it jarred my leg. You must be close."
The statement gave the young man renewed energy and he careened back to his feet to examine the pile. It took him several seconds to spot, but he could finally see the outline of Athos' leg, covered by a splintered beam and surrounded by smaller dirt and rocks. "I think I can get to it now," he said, looking back at the older man who simply nodded. d'Artagnan moved slowly and carefully now, not wanting to cause any additional damage but recognizing that he needed to check on the broken limb and, at the very least, ensure there was good blood flow beyond the break. "Athos," he said after clearing the last of the dirt, but leaving the broken timbre alone, "I think I can reach it. I'm going to try to remove your boot to check the pulse in your foot." Another nod was the only reply and the Gascon manoeuvered himself carefully onto the ground beside Athos' leg, reaching a hand under the beam to the man's boot.
Athos knew that the process would be painful, especially since the young man could only use one hand, leaving his leg unbraced as his boot was removed. He did his best to breathe through the pain, resolving to not make things any harder than necessary on his protégé and biting his lip to contain his sounds of discomfort. When his foot was finally free, Athos couldn't help but gasp in relief at the lack of pressure and was grateful when the Gascon waited a minute before doing anything more so he could regain his composure. "I'm going to check your foot now," d'Artagnan told him. Athos could hear a sigh of relief from the young man as he confirmed that the blood flow to his lower leg had not been compromised and his stomach unclenched slightly at the knowledge that he would not lose his leg.
"Athos, can you wiggle your toes?" the young man queried.
He took a deep breath as he attempted the task, managing a small movement of his toes that had the Gascon chuckling at in relief. "That's good, Athos, that's really good." He scooted back up to be near his friend's head as he apologized, "I'm sorry, but there's nothing more I can do."
Athos examined his friend in the waning light, seeing how much the effort had cost him and he reached a hand up to squeeze the young man's arm, "It's more than enough knowing that I won't lose my leg." d'Artagnan managed a shy grin before ducking his head as he shifted to sit next to the older man. "How are you doing?" Athos asked, again quietly cursing his position and inability to do more for the young man.
"I'm fine, Athos, really. You need to stop worrying about me." d'Artagnan looked around their gloomy space. "I think we're starting to lose the light," he commented. Athos had noticed the same but hadn't wanted to draw attention to the fact that they'd definitely be spending the night below the streets. "What do you think Porthos and Aramis are doing?"
"Everything they can to locate us, I'd wager," Athos assured.
"But, how will they find us down here," the Gascon's voice wavered and Athos squeezed his arm again.
"They do not make a habit of failing their brothers; they'll figure it out," Athos declared confidently.
The young man's eyes were beginning to droop again and Athos knew he would soon succumb to his weariness. Patting the ground beside him suggested, "Why don't you get some rest?" d'Artagnan gave a nod and began to shift himself into position, laying on his uninjured side and facing his friend. His eyes had only just closed when he heard a foreign noise that sounded like voices. When he opened his eyes again and propped himself up on one elbow, it became apparent that Athos had heard something too and now had his head craned toward the damaged section of roofing above them. Pushing himself to his feet, d'Artagnan moved slowly to the lighter area, looking upwards in an attempt to make out the space above their heads.
"d'Artagnan! Athos!" the sound was repeated and this time he could clearly make out their names.
Grinning, he called back, "Down here! We're down here, in one of the collapsed tunnels."
There was some movement above that had fresh dirt and rubble falling, and d'Artagnan ducked his head to prevent being blinded by it. Moments later a voice called, even more clearly than before, "d'Artagnan, is that you?"
"Yes," the young man yelled back, "we're both here."
"Athos is down there with you?" Porthos, d'Artagnan identified, and his grin widened.
"Yes, Porthos, he's here with me but his leg is broken and he's pinned under some rubble. I'll need help to free him."
Aramis' voice returned, "Take heart, we know where you are and have the Captain coming with men and supplies. We'll have to widen the hole up here to get access to you."
"I know," the Gascon replied, "both ends of the tunnel have collapsed and we were lucky to be trapped in the middle." Had he actually said lucky, the young man thought to himself, but yes, it had been luck that they were in the one section that hadn't failed, burying them both. "How long will it take?"
It took several seconds before Aramis responded, "Are you hurt?"
d'Artagnan rolled his eyes at his friend's predictable nature before replying, "Yes, but it's not too bad. I'm still able to move around but we'll need a stretcher for Athos." Had the older man been close enough to call to his other friends, he would have contradicted the Gascon on both parts of his answer, but as it was, he was content to ensure the young man was seen to as soon as they were free. "How long before you can reach us?" d'Artagnan repeated.
"It may be a while," Porthos admitted. "We have to work carefully so we don't bring the rest of the place down on your heads." The Gascon nodded, having already guessed that their rescue would not be swift.
"Is there anything you need?" Aramis asked. "We may be able to pass a few things down once we've widened the hole up here."
d'Artagnan considered their space and the very real possibility that they would be spending the night. "A lantern and some blankets might be nice," he replied.
"We'll pass them down as soon as we're able." Porthos voice disappeared for a moment as he conversed with someone else above. "We're ready to start diggin' now so you may want to move back. Yell if things start getting bad down there and we need to stop."
"Alright," the Gascon agreed as he returned to Athos' side. "They found us," he stated unnecessarily, still grinning at the thought.
"Of course they did," Athos demurred. "Would you expect any less from the King's Musketeers?"
d'Artagnan rolled his eyes again but didn't protest, having had faith in their brothers and simply relieved that they would soon be released from their underground cave. The young man settled beside his mentor to wait, this time staying sitting up so he could watch for any signs of danger that would signal a need to end the digging above them. He placed a hand on Athos' shoulder and the older man didn't comment, recognizing the boy's need for comfort which was currently as strong as his own.