Chapter Ten

He watched as Aramis walked towards him. Ruiz stood in the centre of the clearing, he had readied himself for his task. Pottier had suggested one of the other men should kill the musketeer, but Ruiz was determined that he would redeem himself. He would take the life of the man himself. Pottier had given him a dagger, jewel encrusted, from his own collection. Ruiz felt honoured.

Ruiz turned to the man behind him, he nodded. The man walked away, leaving Ruiz alone with Aramis.

'Your friend will be freed,' Ruiz said.

'A man of your word,' replied Aramis stopping a few paces from Ruiz. He eyed the dagger in Ruiz's hand.

'I am pleased you have accepted my invitation. You are doing the right thing. Our quest is a noble one…'

'Killing innocent people does not seem noble to me,' retorted Aramis.

'But the collecting of the artefacts is worth their sacrifice…your sacrifice…these relics are meant to be revered. My Lord and his followers do so in a manner more befitting them. The common people do not understand their worth.'

Ruiz did not think the musketeer understood the gravitas with which he and the others followed their quest. He shook his head sadly.

'I will make this quick.'

He walked towards Aramis, the dagger ready.

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An hour earlier…

'Are you actually insane!'

Unexpectedly Porthos pushed Aramis up against the wall, holding him there. D'Artagnan stepped up to them and pulled Porthos away.

'Porthos, he's not going to let himself be killed.'

'When I said, I should do as the message says,' said Aramis as he straightened his doublet, 'I didn't intend to just go there and let him kill me…I'm going there so that you two can go and get Athos.'

Porthos took another step back, the tension leaving him. He turned and walked over to the bed before sitting down heavily.

'It's risky, I don't like it.'

'I don't like it either, but he only gave me an hour to get there. We have to move now…just be quick getting Athos out and then come and get me…preferable before Ruiz does anything.'

Aramis took off his weapon belt and laid it on the bed next to Porthos who glanced up at the marksman. He caught Aramis' arm and said quietly, 'are you sure you will be OK?'

Aramis smiled and nodded saying, 'yes. I'm looking forward to meeting Ruiz in more evenly matched circumstances than our last encounter.'

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Shouts and a strangled cry brought Athos to full alertness. He had not realised how weak he had become, he tried to sit up straighter but the pain in his side and his bound hands made the action difficult. He listened intently, with the blindfold still in place he had to rely on his hearing to try and discern what was happening. A couple of gun shots made him jump, which sent pain through his body as he jarred the wound. Once he had reoriented himself and settled his pained breathing he became aware of swords clashing.

He smiled, this was clearly a rescue. His brothers were fighting the zealots, from the sounds he could make out he guessed they were above him. He wondered if the three of them would be able to take out all the zealots. He did not know how many there were. He and d'Artagnan had despatched a few during their brief fight, but there were more to be dealt with.

Breaking wood, and the sound of a man falling in the room had Athos trying to move again. At least two people were fighting, the clashing of the swords was loud in the stone walled room. The fighters were moving about, their footsteps betraying their locations. One of the swordsmen was moving more efficiently than the other. He heard a yelp of pain and the sound of another body falling to the floor followed by steps rapidly approaching him.

Hands were on him, pulling the blindfold off, he blinked and looked up, relieved to see the smiling face of d'Artagnan.

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They had crept around the church and the zealots camp. Two sentries were taken out easily and quietly. The tents were scattered haphazardly, but close together. Taking one tent at a time they had managed to overpower and kill four more men. Killing the men was not their intention but as each man put up a fight and the need for silence was paramount they had been given little choice.

A group of eight men were sat around a campfire. They knew they would have to break their cover to deal with them. They were not sure where Athos was being held, but guessed it would be within the more secure area of the church. The campfire and the men sitting by it were too close to the door of the church for the two musketeers to evade them.

Porthos indicated that he would circle around the men. When he was in position they both broke cover at the same time charging at the resting men. Only four of the eight were armed, one managed to fire a shot from his gun but he did not hit his target. He was prevented from playing any further part when Porthos thrust his main gauche into the man's throat.

Tearing the blade from the dying man Porthos turned and began to engage two of the armed men in a fierce battle. The unarmed men had fled, presumably to alert any others and to collect weapons. There element of surprise was well and truly gone. This was to be a hard battle, but Porthos was determined that they would win.

He glanced across at d'Artagnan who had managed to manoeuvre the man he was fighting with toward the church, backing him up against the door.

One of the men fighting Porthos lunged forward, Porthos parried and grabbed the man's arm pulling him around and into the other swordsman. The two fell in a tangle of limbs, Porthos pulled his gun and shot one in the head before clubbing the other hard with the butt of the gun rendering him unconscious.

D'Artagnan and the man he was fighting had disappeared, the door to the church was open. Porthos could hear the clash of swords from within. He had no time to follow the young musketeer, three men were rushing towards him. A forth had run into the church, Porthos hoped d'Artagnan was in a position to deal with a second opponent.

The three that ran at Porthos were not as disciplined as the other fighters had been, they were small men. The first was dealt with by one sword thrust to the stomach, the man staggered back and collapsed weakly clutching at the wound. The second fought wildly but left himself open to a single, simple stab to the chest from Porthos' main gauche and the third was then left with no help. He tried to bring his sword, which was clearly too heavy for him, up and over his head leaving him completely exposed. Porthos slashed across the man's chest and brought his foot up and kicked him backwards hard. All three were dead or dying within a minute.

'You fight well musketeer,' sneered another man. He was a big man, an equal to Porthos, he carried a sword, held loosely at his side.

Porthos was breathless but ready for the next fight. He noted the man in front of him was not carrying a gun and appeared to only have a sword and nothing to help with parrying any thrusts. The man held himself like a fighter. Porthos wondered if he had been a soldier.

'I am Pottier, I am the leader of these men, and I shall avenge their deaths at your hand,' said the man, taking a couple of steps forward.

'Your men have been causing pain and suffering to innocent people, I've no issue with killin' them,' replied Porthos, taking a few paces forward himself and bringing his sword forward, ready for the fight he knew was coming.

MMMM

D'Artagnan's smile faltered when he saw the state of Athos, he was ashen and obviously in pain. He knelt beside his superior and used his main gauche to cut the rope from his wrists. Athos moaned in pain as his wound was agitated by the movement.

'How badly are you hurt?'

'I'll be able to walk, but I doubt I will be much good in a sword fight, where are the others?' replied Athos as he clutched his injured side.

D'Artagnan pulled Athos' hands away and inspected the wound, 'this will need stitches…last I saw Porthos he was fighting outside. We've taken out most of them now, here,' he handed Athos his gun, 'we need to get you out of here.'

'Aramis?'

'Gone to meet Ruiz…'

'What!'

'No…why do you two keep thinking he's going to sacrifice himself willingly?'

Athos nodded understanding what was happening, 'a distraction.'

'Yes, but not one that will last long, he's unarmed, and we don't know how Ruiz intends to try and kill him.'

Athos nodded again and allowed d'Artagnan to pull him up. He leaned against the cold stone wall for a few seconds as the pain washed through him. When he was ready he put his arm around d'Artagnan's shoulder and allowed himself to be helped from the room. They slowly climbed the steps back up to the church. As they entered they could hear Porthos continuing to fight outside.

A man rushed in through the door, he saw d'Artagnan and Athos and ran at them, sword raised. He had barely covered half of the distance before collapsing to the floor a bloody hole in his head. Athos lowered the gun.

'You may not be fighting with a sword, but that works just as well,' remarked d'Artagnan as they continued to move out of the church.

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Pottier was an accomplished disciplined fighter. His sword stokes were well aimed and hard. Porthos was having a difficult time fighting the man. He was tiring from taking on so many men in battle. He parried another good swipe of the sword from his opponent.

Initially Porthos had thought the man cocky in his actions, but it quickly became apparent that he was testing Porthos' limits. As they fought, Porthos realised the man was trained, there was a slight predictability about his fighting. This was what Porthos would need to expose. Although Porthos was trained, he was not averse to using his own personal touches.

Pottier lunged forward, Porthos stepped to the side to miss the sword, but rather than return the gesture he flipped the sword and punched Pottier hard in the face with the hilt. Twice. The man reeled back, sword flailing upwards wildly. Porthos twisted his main gauche around the sword forcing it from the man's hand. As the sword was pulled lose Porthos pushed Pottier back roughly, drew back his own sword and thrust it deep into the now exposed chest of his opponent. Pottier gasped, he looked at Porthos, surprised. Porthos smiled at him, as he pushed his sword deeper.

Pottier slipped backwards, he coughed, blood appeared on his lips. He fell slowly, Porthos had a good grip on his sword. Pottier slowly slipped off the sword and to the ground. He took one final, faltering breath. Then lay still.

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As they emerged from the church Athos took in the scene. Bodies lay scattered around a campfire. Porthos was stood panting in the centre of the carnage. He looked up as they approached him.

'That,' he said pointing at the body before him, 'was the leader…mad…totally mad. These men must've been following him blindly, they were clearly willing to do his bidding.'

'We still have one more to deal with,' d'Artagnan reminded him.

'You alright?' Porthos asked looking at Athos.

'I will be fine, I will be happier once we have found our missing marksman.'

'Don't you trust us to deal with your wound?' asked Porthos with a slight grin.

Athos knew that Porthos was anxious to be reunited with Aramis as well. They had all been worried about him, and even though he was not willingly going to his death, there was still the possibility that he would not be able to take out Ruiz first.

Porthos took Athos' other arm and helped d'Artagnan to walk the injured man towards the clearing they knew Aramis had headed to. Athos was glad they had not tried to talk him into staying, even though it would have meant Porthos and d'Artagnan could have moved quicker he wanted to be able to help in any way he could.

They moved fairly quickly anyway, Athos was in pain, but not so much that it inhibited his walking. He really only needed his friends to keep him from falling. He stumbled a few times, causing him to wince in pain, but they carried on regardless. The trees thinned out as they reached the clearing.

MMMM

Ruiz advanced on Aramis who stood his ground. He was ready to move, but needed Ruiz to be close enough, he did not want to give the man the chance to run. When the dagger had been produced Aramis had been careful not to sigh with relief. If Ruiz had intended to shoot him it would have been much harder to deal with.

When Ruiz was a couple of paces away he raised his left hand to place on Aramis' shoulder, he intended to plunge the dagger into Aramis' chest. Just as the dagger was moving towards him he grabbed Ruiz by the hand and stepped slightly to the side. Ruiz, obviously surprised by the move, could not prevent the extra step he took. Aramis managed to twist Ruiz's right arm around, but as Ruiz's hold on the dagger was tight he could not prevent it from slicing his forearm causing him to release his grip slightly.

Ruiz took advantage, he was no fighter, but his primal instinct to preserve his own life took over. He twisted back and shoved Aramis causing him to stumble slightly. Taking the momentary distraction, he put his foot behind Aramis and tripped him to the ground. Aramis fell hard, the air knocked out of him.

Aramis had to quickly bring his arms up to prevent Ruiz plunging the knife into his face, he missed the man's hands and ended up grabbing the blade of the dagger. He felt the sharp metal cutting his palm but he held on and pushed up quickly causing Ruiz to move back slightly. Aramis let go of the dagger and shifted slightly to the left at the same time. Ruiz could not change his direction quick enough and plunged the dagger harmlessly into the ground beside Aramis' head.

With a quick movement Aramis pushed Ruiz over onto his back and straddled him. Pulling his bloody hand back, he punched Ruiz, hard, his own blood mixing with that of his opponents. Two more punches saw Ruiz unconscious.

Aramis moved away from the still figure and sat heavily on the ground nursing his injured hand.

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