Here it is, finally. Enjoy :)
Porthos
Porthos was almost certain that the world wasn't meant to be spinning. The landscape swirled past like his horse was standing still and the landscape was morphing around him. The side of his head throbbed where it had hit the floor of the inn. He was so sleepy. That was rather strange as he must have spent a lot of time asleep (unconscious, but was there really much difference?) in that cellar. So why was he struggling to keep his eyes open now? The gradually began to droop and he allowed them to close for a second before opening them again, quickly, hoping that Athos hadn't noticed. He concentrated on staying awake, on riding forwards. Though he couldn't be entirely sure which direction was forward at this precise moment in time. He opened his eyes. Wait, that was wrong, he'd never closed them, had he? He shook his head, trying to clear it and thought of their goal, they had to reach Aramis in time. He opened his eyes again, the landscape had changed drastically, he was certain there had been a forest to left just a moment ago. Then he didn't open his eyes. The last thing he heard before he welcomed the darkness was someone yelling his name.
Athos
Athos rode straight on. He didn't change his pace for a minute. Determined that they would make it in time. There was no choice to the matter. He risked a glance at his companions. Porthos looked tired, this had to be a bad sign, and d'Artagnan was clutching at his side whenever he thought no one was watching. The irrational part of Athos' mind, the part that said they had to reach Aramis at all costs, including leaving his brothers where they fell from their horses, said that he should just ignore them and keep on riding. The rational part told him that sacrificing one friend for the goal of saving another was not the best choice he'd made. But rationality went out the window when Aramis left them, supposedly betraying them. So he continued on, deciding to look straight ahead rather than let his guilt grow worse by seeing his friends in pain. However, he was concerned for Porthos and d'Artagnan which made him jump and whip his head round at every slight noise. Just when he was about to suggest stopping to find a place to rest, he heard a thud from beside him.
"Porthos!" he yelled, yanking his horse's reigns desperately causing it to rear up wildly, almost throwing him off. He leaped to the ground and ran to crouch by Porthos' side. He was overcome with guilt when he saw his friend lying unconscious on the round but luckily he didn't seem to be injured. Then he heard d'Artagnan's yelp from behind him to see the youngest musketeer also lying on the ground. He sighed, but not out of annoyance with Porthos and d'Artagnan but with himself. If they had waited before setting off then they may still have reached Aramis in time. But he had to rush off, didn't he? They would never make it now. He gently shook Porthos' shoulder and Porthos opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden light. Behind them d'Artagnan was back on his feet and limping over.
"Is he alright?" the boy asked Athos
"Ask him yourself" he mumbled. Porthos raised himself up on one elbow and looked in puzzlement at the two concerned faces.
"'m fine, must've just...I'll just, just get up on my, my... Gotta... gotta get to 'rmis!" he said, seemingly unaware of what little sense he was making. "c'mon, what we waitin' for?" he sat up suddenly, pushing the ground to try and help himself up. He tried and failed a few times to get to his feet and collapsed back to the ground, his eyes closed.
"What are we going to do?" d'Artagnan asked. Athos just shook his head. They had failed Aramis, all because of his own stupidity. He cried out and punched the ground in anger.
Aramis
The hoof beats had slowed dramatically as they neared the cottage. The riders were obviously wary of approaching despite the fact that they knew its sole protector was a single musketeer. A shot rang out and Aramis jumped, grabbing Melanie close and checking that she hadn't been hit. When he heard the second shot he was looking out the window so he saw the red guard fall and knew he was dead before he hit the ground. Okay, maybe not its sole protector.
"Go down to the cellar" he told Melanie "They'll be here soon"
Melanie looked for a moment as if she was about to protest but nodded and walked towards the trapdoor. Aramis drew his sword and faced the door, listening carefully as the guards dismounted and footsteps replaced the hoof beats. The first man flung open the flimsy door and it crashed to the floor, Aramis slashed his sword across the man and returned to his guarding position without bothering to check if the man was alive or dead. Then the horde arrived. There wasn't a much better way to describe it. The red guards swarmed forward with no apparent care for their own safety, at least six fell before one managed to get a hit in, slicing his sword across Aramis' arm. He took advantage of Aramis' distraction and lunged forward; Aramis blocked the blow but was forced to take a step backward. He heard a pistol being cocked behind him and ducked before the shot was fired that went directly through his former opponent's heart. He turned his head briefly to see Mirabelle standing behind him. He shot her a grateful look which was met with her usual cold expression. He remembered just in time that he was in the middle of a fight and whipped round to face the next red guard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mirabelle pick up a discarded sword and join the fight. It was more difficult than he'd anticipated fighting in such an enclosed place. And considering he had never expected to win in the first place, his odds were not looking good. He ducked under another sword aimed at his neck and blocked another blow from the right. He realised that he'd stepped quite far back from the door now and the red guards were gradually gaining ground into the house. He turned towards Mirabelle and-
d'Artagnan
"We can come as well" d'Artagnan complained as Athos mounted his horse. He had been shouted down when he suggested they set off again. He was quietly grateful not to have to ride but he didn't like to think of Athos going alone. Porthos had woken again, more aware than the last and had demanded that he accompany Athos but he had been denied. He had told d'Artagnan when Athos wasn't listening that he was going to go anyway. This wasn't a good idea but d'Artagnan certainly wasn't going to try and stop him. He thought he might even go himself. The thud of Athos' horse faded away and d'Artagnan was left standing next to a grumpy Porthos in the middle of no-where while two of their brothers were in mortal danger. He didn't move when Porthos mounted his own horse, even muttering a half-hearted good luck. Now he was completely alone and if his friends died then it would his fault for not being there. The other musketeers were far more skilled than him and his presence would almost definitely not make that much of a difference but the thought that he could have saved them but didn't was far worse than the thought that he did do something but couldn't save them. He silently apologised to Athos as he galloped to catch up with Porthos.
Sorry it took so long (again). I think I need to stop making promises now about upload dates. All I can say is that I will tryto upload the next chapter as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, please review :)