Authors note: This is linked to Chapter Five.

Porthos yelled at the thickset man who wrenched his sword from his belt and yelled back. The two were the same height and build. Porthos knew he would have to assess the man's capability fast. They knew the group of mercenaries had been working together for some years. The leader only took the best fighters. His organised approach to being swords for hire was proving to be a good business.

When Athos had disappeared, several months before, the mercenaries were at the top of their list of suspects. But no one knew where they were. They were able to track the man the information was going to be sold to. That man had not been able to help them to find the mercenaries. The one small compensation to that disappointment was that the man was now languishing in the Chatelet. He was unlikely to see the light of day again.

Over several weeks they had searched. Large groups had combed the countryside. They had followed up each and every scant clue they came across. A few times they had allowed their hopes to grow only to be dashed by bitter disappointment.

But not this time. This time the clue they followed had paid off. Or it had paid off up to a point. If they could not deal with the three ruffians who had been about to murder their brother, they would not be getting the reunion they were hoping for.

They made their way through the labyrinth of shallow ravines at the side to the camp. They intended to sneak into the camp, free Athos, and sneak back out again. They had acquired clothing that would allow them to pass as the mercenaries and armed themselves appropriately.

What they had not expected was to find Athos on his way out as they were on their way in. The standoff was brief, ended by a single gunshot from Aramis. The fight with the men after the shot was equally brief. The few clashes of swords each pair made all ended the same way. With a thuggish brute of a mercenary on the ground, dead or dying.

Porthos pulled his sword from the man he had been fighting. He looked across at d'Artagnan who was kicking the dagger away from the bleeding man at his feet. Aramis was looking around with confusion as he stepped away from the dead man he had been fighting.

'Where is he?'

Porthos did not need to ask who 'he' was. Athos was nowhere to be seen.

A gurgled chuckle made them look at the man d'Artagnan had mortally wounded.

'You're too late. That delay... us... fighting you... he'll bleed to death before you get to him...'

The dying man vaguely gestured with his weakening hand. Porthos followed where the man pointed. A trail of blood led towards a hole in the base of the craggy stone wall. Porthos had not noticed it before. The blood led into the gap. Aramis crouched in front of the ragged tunnel; he peered through.

'They look so pretty when they bleed...'

'Who?' asked d'Artagnan.

The dying man, whose mouth was stained with blood, blearily looked up at the soldier responsible for his impending doom.

'The prisoners... he was worth it... he didn't react... only cried out a few times... never gave up the information...'

Porthos watched Aramis get on his hands and knees before easing himself through the tight jagged gap. D'Artagnan abandoned the now dead man and followed Aramis. After a final look around, Porthos pushed himself through the gap as well.

'Why'd he come through here?' asked d'Artagnan as he helped Porthos to his feet.

They were confronted by more rocky walls and twisting slippery paths. The moon's low glow cast an ethereal look about the place. The drops of blood shone clearly on the stone.

'He might have been confused...' said Aramis distractedly, 'after all, it wasn't exactly how we wanted our reunion to go.'

Porthos slapped his friend's shoulder, knowing Aramis would need the reassurance.

'We have to find him,' said Aramis, the worry in his voice palpable.

D'Artagnan glanced at Porthos; they exchanged a grim look and followed their friend. Aramis was moving at pace, following the trail of blood. Athos' blood. Porthos could tell Aramis was agitated at the length of time it was taking to find their friend. Whilst Porthos did not blame Aramis; he would have rather have a calm Musketeer leading them into the unknown.

D'Artagnan was thinking along the same lines and managed to get ahead of their slightly distracted friend. He slowed their pace and began a more thorough search. Aramis realised his folly and took a breath. When Porthos again slapped his shoulder, Aramis nodded his thanks.

'There...'

D'Artagnan pointed ahead of them.

Athos was lying slumped against the exposed roots of a large tree.

MMMM

Authors note: There will be more in Chapter Eleven.

Whumpee: Athos. Featuring: all four.