Hello again, I hope you are all liking the story. I would just like to thank Coffeecup35 for the advice as it was very useful and would love anymore from anyone!
This chapter is all Porthos based so enjoy!
He didn't know where he was but he knew the journey had been long. Porthos had woken to find a hood over his head, blocking his sight. He knew he was no longer in the net but both his hand and legs were now tightly bound and when he had pulled at the ropes he had felt a slight give but not enough to slip his bindings.
His head throbbed where he had been hit and it felt like a load drumbeat was pounding again and again in his head making it hard to think. The road had been rough and with every bump and hole Porthos had found himself being thrown around until he felt like he was bruised all over. The cut on his arm and stopped bleeding at least but he could feel it burning, he lay there wishing Aramis were there so that he check it wasn't infected.
Suddenly a thought crossed his mind. Aramis. He had seen his brother running to his aid before he had been knocked out. If he was still with his captives, what had happened to his brother? Had the cart pulled away before he reached it? Or had he been injured, or worse? Fear began to creep into Porthos' body along with a mixture of guilt. If his friend had been injured or killed trying to save him he would never forgive himself. Then another thought crossed him. What if Aramis had been taken capture as well?
He moved slightly, straining to catch a snippet off his captives conversation. He hoped to hear something about their destination or at least some information about his brother. Porthos soon found, though that the hood muffled most of their words and the men spoke only in soft murmurs so he was unable to pick up anything useful. Eventually he gave in and focused his attention on trying to loosen his bounds, with little success. One of the men soon spotted him moving and he earned a rough kick to the chest that left him breathless. He was turned onto his back and his bonds drawn so tight he could feel them cutting off his circulation. The cold barrel of a gun was then placed on his neck and he was threatened that if he did something like that again he would soon become a very dead musketeer. Porthos gave in and lay still for the rest of the journey.
It must have been near midday when the cart came to an abrupt stop. Although it was mid- winter, the sun was shining bright. Even through his hood Porthos could see it's light reflecting of the snow, he flexed his muscles slightly feeling its rays slowing warming him. Suddenly and without warning, strong hands grabbed him and roughly pulled him off the cart. He winced slightly as one of the men grabbed his arm near to his wound. Once he was off the cart he tried to stand but the hood made him disorientated, his muscles had still not woken from the long journey and he fell abruptly to the ground.
His captives left him there whilst they laughed. Blushing slightly under his hood, Porthos tried to stand again, not wanting to let the men get anymore kicks out of his situation and embarrassment. Just as he was about to stand his legs were kicked from underneath him and he fell forward into something that he hoped was mud but from the smell he knew it wasn't. The men surrounding him were in hysterics now. He felt a rough hand grab his shirt pulling him up. 'This is where you belong dog, you are no musketeer, just a dog who needs to be taught how to serve his masters' with that Porthos was pushed to the ground again, he hooded face forced into the manure. He tried to struggle but the grip on him just tightened. All around him the men laughed and jeered, cheering the other man on.
'Enough'. A deep voice barked the swift order. The hand holding Porthos down let go and backed away. 'I'm sorry sir we were just having a bit of fun' the man's voice sounded pleading. A shot rang out and Porthos started as he felt a body fall next to him. 'Anymore of you want to have a bit of fun?' The man asked. 'Good, glad we've got that sorted, now take him inside. Oh and someone deal with that.' Suddenly Porthos felt himself being half- dragged, half-carried into some building.
'Put him there'. Porthos felt himself being forced to his knees, two firm hands on his shoulders, another two holding his arms. 'Very good, Tyron, now the rest of you leave us.' Another man, something about his voice seemed familiar to Porthos. There was a sound of shuffling feet and a shutting door then the hood was removed from his head. The sudden bright light was blinding and he kneeled there blinking quickly trying to focus his vision. Then he saw the man who stood before him. He was tall and skinny with a mop of dark brown hair, a lot like D'Artagnan, Porthos thought but there was something different about this man. Instead of having D'Artagnan's soft, kind brown eyes this man's eyes were filled with anger and hatred. Then Porthos saw the scar on the man's right cheek and he realised who he was kneeling before.
'Kiron? Is that you?', suddenly a fist flew out of nowhere and hit him across the face, causing his teeth to rattle and blood to fill his mouth. Swallowing it, Porthos turned to see another the man, the man from outside he guessed, towering above him. 'You speak when spoken to dog!' he growled, voice thick with anger. 'It's ok, Tyron, let him speak.' Tyron moved away so Porthos was facing Kiron again. Kiron, an old friend from back in the Court now standing with his back to him looking into the mirror that was situated above the fireplace. 'Kiron, brother, what is going on? Why are you doing this?'. Kiron turned with a hiss. 'Brother? Charon was my brother and you killed him. You and you're musketeer scum!' he yelled. Porthos flinched trying to hide the hurt that rose inside of him. Kiron may have been Charon's brother in blood but Porthos loved him like a brother also. He had grieved for his friend from the Court but at the same time knew that at some point he would have to pay for what had happened. If now was that time Porthos was willing to accept it and silently he begged Aramis, Athos and D'Artagnan to forgive him for not trying to fight his end.
'That's why you brought me here, to get your revenge? Very well do your worse'. Porthos fought hard to keep the fear out of his voice. He would not allow Kiron the pleasure of seeing him scared. What really scared him though was the look that came over Kiron's face. 'Foolish Musketeer' he purred, bringing his face to Porthos, 'Although I would enjoy the pleasure of making you pay for my poor brothers life, there is something of far more value that I need from you.' He said taking a step back 'Oh and what's that' Porthos growled trying to appear brave while he began to feel a tight knot forming inside his stomach.
'Information'. For once Porthos was confused, not really sure what to say. What information could he have that Kiron could possible want? Then he remembered something Charon and him had found when he was still living in the Court. 'From the look in your eyes I think you know what I'm talking about, don't you Porthos du Vallon? Charon told me about it you know, he never told me its location but he told me about it.' Kiron turned back to the mirror, his hand touching his scar as he traced its outline.
'The secret entrance into the Palace itself, found by two young street beggars with no idea what to do with what they had found. A way into the palace that was completely unguarded because no when else knew about it and what did you do? Instead of stealing gold and jewellery you stole bread!' At this he turned and looked directly at him, 'But once you have given me its location, do you no what I am going to do?' Porthos stares at him but doesn't answer. 'I am going to take a group of my best men and we are going to attack the palace as they sleep. I am personally going to slit the childish king's throat myself' at that point Porthos felt himself growl but Kiron took no notice and carried on, 'Then I shall take the lovely queen as my own and all of Frances riches will be mine' at this he laughed. 'You're insane' Porthos growls and suddenly a knife is brought to his neck.
'I may be insane but I will soon also be rich beyond your wildest dreams and you are going to help me achieve that goal.' 'Never. I would never betray my country.' Kiron began to grin psychotically. 'I know I hoped you would say that because now I can make getting this information out of you as painful as possible, hold him up' The two men either side of Porthos pulled him up until he was face to face with Kiron. Suddenly a fist lashed out and caught him in the chest knocking the breath out of him whilst the next caught him across the face. Kiron may have been small but the beating was long and brutal. The last thing Porthos knew were the arms supporting being released and the ground coming up to meet him.