My profound apologies for making you wait so long. Real life bites sometimes. I promise I always finish any story and this will be no exception. Thank you as always for those who have stuck around for your kind words and messages.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Voices floated around in the air as if they were caught in the fog. The night air had brought back the blanket of damp that swallowed everything into itself. D'Artagnan found himself having to force himself to concentrate to make out the words, but even then it was too hard. They were being whispered and he strained to catch them. His body seemed to have a mind of its own and refused to drag itself up off whatever he was lying on. A weight against his side told him that Juliette was sleeping beside him and he chose to ignore the voices and sink back into sleep.

Yves leaned back against a tree and glared into the near darkness. Hours had passed since they found the embankment and managed to pull some branches across as a rough kind of shelter for the night. He knew Chantal was right, but his promises weighed heavily on him as he had been forced to give voice to them.

"How much farther do you think he will manage? I can carry him for a time, but I'm not as young as him!" The anger in his tone was not aimed at her and Chantal knew it. She reached out a hand and grasped his wrist.

"I know. But …" the quiver in her voice betrayed her determination and Yves looked back towards her. There was barely enough light left to see her face, but the trace of tears was unmistakable.

"He made me promise!"

"He's half out of his mind! He has no idea what he asked you to do!"

"He knew exactly what he was asking me." Yves turned away as his own voice nearly gave out. "He loves that child and he knows he doesn't have much time left. See reason, woman. We have nothing we can do to help him, but we can get her to safety quicker and get someone back here to help him. If he has any kind of chance."

"I'm not leaving him out here to die. And I guarantee there is no way you will pry that child away from him even if you dared try!"

"You think I want to? God help me, I'm not a monster! But, he made me promise." The words trailed away as Yves felt the heat running out his bluster. He knew what he had promised to do, but he also knew there was no way he could carry through on it. He looked across their makeshift shelter and watched the object of their conversation sleeping restlessly.

"Where are those friends you seemed so sure of?"


Porthos shoved a final piece of dried beef into his mouth as he tied off the last of his gear. Athos was already atop his horse and looking impatiently into the distance. The first hint of sun was barely rising on the horizon as they pulled away from their camp. The chill enveloped them and Porthos pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself. Sometime during the night the first smatterings of snow had fallen. The ground had soon soaked it up and left a slushy mess in its wake. The horses seemed not to notice as they made their way along, but Aramis looked across at Porthos and both silently acknowledged their concern. They all had warm clothing and were still chilled. What did d'Artagnan and Juliette have with them?

Athos and Albert had barely spoken since rising and a kind of grim determination seemed to have set in as they traced their way along the route Athos had etched in his head. There was no point even trying for conversation when he was in such a mood and his friends simply followed closely behind him.

It was almost an hour later when they all heard the first screams. A bloodcurdling sound ripped through the air and they each spurred their horses on without pause for thought. The scream was suddenly cut short and the silence that followed was even more terrifying.

Albert felt his throat clench closed as he fought to keep himself in the saddle. He had demanded to travel with the group as they searched for his daughter and he had been determined to follow them if they had refused. For the first time, he began to doubt himself as he considered what they were riding into. His mind screamed at him that his daughter was already dead and he found himself clinging to the reins as if they were some kind of lifeline. Ahead of him, Athos urged his horse into a gallop and soon two shadows streaked past him. It wasn't that he had deliberately dropped back. It was just that he was nowhere near the horseman that the trio ahead of him were and he was afraid of being tossed from his horse if he pushed any harder.

As he rounded a bend in the trail, into a small clearing, Albert thought his heart may stop. Bodies lay strewn across the ground and all his mind could focus on was the blood. Somehow his mind blocked out the sounds of steel clashing against steel as his traveling companions morphed into soldiers before his eyes. Of course he had seen musketeers in the training yard, but he had never seen these same men swing a blade in anger. Each of them seemed driven by something he could not define and he stood gaping at them as if watching strangers.

Red uniforms flashed across his line of vision and Albert felt his head swimming in flashes of red. Blood trailed across the ground and his body froze in distress. His mouth refused to work properly as he tried to call his daughter's name. The sounds around him faded into the background as he stumbled forward. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he spun away from him, raising an arm in a defensive posture before he even thought about it.

"Easy! It's me!" Aramis grasped at Albert's forearm, trying to forestall the man from searching the bodies ahead of him. His own fear got pushed beneath his concern for the desperate father before him and he prayed that he would not find what he was expecting to. "Albert! Can you hear me?"

Albert found his thoughts running amok and his body staggered sideways. His mouth still could not form a coherent word and his eyes raked across the ground before him.

"They're not 'ere!" Porthos' voice boomed across the open space as he raced from one body to the next. Fear drove his feet as he searched out two in particular. A glimmer of hope arose as he could not find the familiar mop of dark hair he was quietly praying not to find. "They're not 'ere!"

"Then where are they?" Athos' voice behind him made Porthos stop dead in his tracks. His moment of elation evaporated as reality sunk in. The prisoners were clearly running from their captors when they were slaughtered. He slowly turned around while casting an eye as far as he could. He had not missed any of the bodies. As he saw Aramis nudging Albert forward, he could not read the man's face. A mixture of fear and exaltation fought for supremacy as he stumbled towards where Athos had a guard pinned against a rock. His sword tip dug into the man's neck and Aramis was acutely aware of the control holding him in check.

"Where are the others?"

The guard gulped as he stared at the enraged faces around him. "What others?"

The tip of the sword moved a fraction and blood began to trickle down the guard's neck. "Don't play stupid with me." The low and controlled tone of voice did nothing to belie the threat behind the words.

Athos twisted the blade enough to draw a gasp of pain. "Your life is forfeit already. Give me reason to end it in severe pain and I will happily oblige. Now, where are the others?"

The guard swallowed as he tried to rein in his fear. "I don't know. We got to the collection point and there was chains all over the ground and dead guards. This lot musta killed them!"

Athos stared at the man, as though weighing his words. "This collection point – where was that?"

The guard thumbed a hand over his shoulder. "Back that way. We figured they was all down here."

Athos looked across at his friends and could see his own thoughts echoed on their faces. Albert looked around wildly, trying desperately to see where his child could be.

Athos pulled his sword back and slowly sheathed it. "We give these people a decent burial and then we head back up that gully."

Albert pushed his way forward, struggling to get his thoughts in order. "But he just said they aren't there!"

"If they aren't up there and they aren't back here, there's only one place they could be." Athos watched as the distraught father struggled against his own fatigue and slowly came to the same conclusion.

"They climbed out." A glimmer of hope reflected in his eyes as he looked around.

As Athos stepped back from the guard, he noted with satisfaction that the nick at his neck was bleeding freely. It was not a fatal wound, but the one in his leg was. He locked eyes with the man slumped on the ground and allowed himself a further moment of satisfaction as he read fear there.


It was well over three hours later that the exhausted group climbed over the crest of the gully wall and looked around for clues. Their horses had been turned loose below them as none of them had any idea if or when they would return for them. Precious supplies hung heavily as they slung saddle bags over their shoulders before climbing the rocky slope. It was nothing more than an educated guess that the rest of group, however many that may be, had clambered up the rock face to escape the guards behind them. It had not been voiced, but the question hung between them of why the group would split up.

"This way!" Aramis crouched in the soft dirt and pointed ahead. "Multiple boot prints. This way."

Albert hurried forward and knelt down beside him. He was no tracker, but even he could make out more than one set of prints. His eyes scanned the ground, frantically searching for smaller feet. For evidence that his daughter was still alive. When he found none, he forced himself upright and allowed Aramis to haul him onwards.

The night's drifting of snow had left a damp mark across the ground and had served to smudge any trail markers. It took keen eyes, driven by desperate need, to find the hints left behind. As the group pushed themselves forward, it was Albert who first spotted the makeshift shelter. The others were all focused on the markings on the ground, whereas he knew his skills did not lie there and was not wasting his efforts on something he could not do. Instead he had been scouring the landscape for any hint of his child.

"Over there!" He was running before he knew it and flung aside the branches as if expecting his daughter to be simply sleeping underneath it. His disappointment was almost his undoing and he staggered backwards. Aramis grasped at his arm to steady him before dropping to the ground. He ran a hand across the ground and pulled up onto his haunches. What looked to be simply a dark patch of dirt may have escaped his attention, if not for the wad of dirty, bloody bandage balled up against the edge of the embankment. He slowly looked up and rose to his feet without speaking. Nobody needed to ask and the group moved in unison as they made their way onward again.


D'Artagnan gripped at Yves' shirt and tried to control the tremor in his voice. "You promised me!" he hissed in anger. Pain rippled up the length of his leg and he barely caught himself before he cried out in pain.

"I know what I said. But you are not done for yet and I'm not leaving you behind yet." The anger in his eyes belied his fear as he struggled to keep his voice low. The child they were all trying to protect was too close and he had no wish for her to understand the point of their argument.

"I can barely walk! The snow began last night and will no doubt come again tonight. There is no food and only a dribble of water left. You promised me you would get her home. I'm slowing you all down and …. you promised me!"

Yves scrubbed a hand across his face as he considered the impassioned plea. The words were all true. And yet, he could not bring himself to leave the young man behind, no matter how well argued the reason.

"Do you honestly think that child is going to let us just leave you behind?"

D'Artagnan lifted his head to argue. It took far more effort than he would have admitted and he found the words stuck in his throat.

Yves shifted an arm around his waist and without asking, began to haul him to his feet. "We need to get moving. The sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner we get her home!"

The words held an air of finality about them and d'Artagnan found his mind wandering to his father. The same sound of authority ran through his thoughts and he found himself complying without argument. A sword ground into his leg as he stood up and another pair of hands reached out to steady him from behind. Somewhere in the fog, he heard Juliette's voice, although he had no idea what it was she said to him.

The passage of time held no meaning as he forced himself to push one foot in front of the other. The small repetitive motion became the entire focus of his exhausted mind. What should have been a simple thing that required no real thought had become the most difficult thing he could imagine. Sweat dribbled into his eyes and he found it easier to just close them instead of fighting against it. His hands would not do the job anyway and his mind seemed to have taken leave of his body.

By the time his body slipped from Yves' grasp, d'Artagnan had no idea where he was anymore. He could have sworn he heard Athos calling his name, but that was just ridiculous, because Athos was miles away at the garrison.