Chapter 11

"You're sure you can do it?" Athos asked Espoir as they moved. He seemed genuine in his desire to help, but Athos knew nothing about him apart from the fact that d'Artagnan believed in him. And d'Artagnan, ironically for an empath, was not always the best judge of character, too willing to see the best in people.

"I can do it. You'll have to get them near us, though. I can't do it at a distance."

"How near?"

He hesitated as they entered a clearing a handful of paces across. "Here. I can do it here, if they're all inside the clearing."

Athos glanced around; they were in the path of one of the patrols, but he didn't have time to round up the others. He passed d'Artagnan to Espoir, took a couple of steps away, and drew his pistol.

The shot rang out clearly around them and he could hear shouting and ferocious barking from the building. "How are you going to get past the dogs?" Espoir asked nervously, watching the edges of the clearing.

"I'll decide that when it becomes necessary." The first guard burst in and he drew his sword, keeping him away from d'Artagnan.

He had taken one down and was fighting two at once when they both froze, collapsing to the ground like marionettes. He looked over his shoulder at Espoir; the remaining two guards were crumpled between them. "Do you need to keep that up?"

"No. It just wears off." He swore as d'Artagnan lurched forward. "d'Artagnan, no! You can't go in there."

Athos caught d'Artagnan's face in his hands, studying the widely roving eyes and pale skin. "I'm going to get Aramis," he said clearly. "You need to stay out here." d'Artagnan didn't answer, and he looked past him to Espoir. "Can you manage him?"

"Always have before. Go."

Athos nodded, letting go of d'Artagnan and hurrying through the last line of trees. Some instinct made him linger in the treeline for several heartbeats before sprinting across the open space to the shelter of the closest wall, where he paused to listen intently. No shots, no shouts: he hadn't been observed.

The nearest way in was to his right, but he moved carefully to the left, stepping over a pile of rubble and listening briefly before stepping through the opening. He was in an unroofed corridor, and there was movement down at the far end.

He drifted through the complex, always in the right place at the right time, taking out the three remaining guards from behind without a scratch. The dogs kept barking, but they never came near him and he didn't worry about them. The moment the third guard hit the ground he was heading for the centre of the ruin, not even thinking about it. He was worried that the last man would use Aramis as a shield, but when he reached the room he realised it was much worse than that.

Aramis was shackled tightly, hanging from a high beam. His feet were swinging free of the ground, his ribs and chest drawn tight, struggling to breathe. He didn't seem to be aware of Athos, or of the other man standing nearby.

"You and your friends are all dead," the man told him. "You'll never make it out before Grimaud gets here."

"I'll just have to kill you quickly, then." He drew his sword, glancing briefly at Aramis – still breathing – before lunging to attack.

d'Artagnan was aware of Espoir – he was aware of everything around them – but nothing mattered right now except getting to Aramis before Athos tried to move him. Grimmaud was getting closer and closer, and that was another thing to talk to Athos about, but he wasn't sure he could find the words. He wasn't sure he could find any words, apart from the ones he was holding tightly.

He struggled on towards the building, trying to focus on what was in front of him, ignoring Espoir when he could, dragging him when he had to. The increasing worry was grating on him, though it was nice to know Espoir worried about him.

The Dark Place flared briefly, but it was buried under everything else that was going on, and d'Artagnan swept it away without stopping. Athos, unharmed, was turning to Aramis, trying to rouse him, trying to pick the chains on his ankles first.

d'Artagnan dragged Espoir around the final corner into the room. "Wait!" Athos turned, startled, and d'Artagnan groped for Espoir's arm. "Stop him."

"What?" Espoir protested.

d'Artagnan blinked; he hadn't saved any other words. He took a couple of steps closer to Aramis, almost falling over the debris he couldn't really see any more, swiping irritably at the blood running from his nose. "Stop," he said again.

"We have to take him down, he's suffocating," Athos said, tone calm and emotions roiling. "He's not even conscious anymore."

d'Artagnan dragged at Espoir's arm, trying to make him understand. Espoir frowned at him, and in desperation d'Artagnan waggled his fingers.

"Oh!" Espoir turned to Athos. "He wants me to have him sleep first, I think."

"He's already unconscious!"

"It's going to hurt badly getting him down, though. He'll rouse."

Athos studied him. "And you can stop that?"

"Yes."

"Grimaud," d'Artagnan managed warningly. The other man was only minutes away.

Athos nodded. "Do it quickly, and get d'Artagnan out of here."

"Can you manage Aramis?"

"Better than you could. Fast."

Espoir studied Aramis for a handful of seconds before stepping forward to work a hand under his shirt, searching for skin. Athos didn't protest; as soon as Espoir stepped back he climbed onto a nearby chair. Espoir braced Aramis from below as Athos worked the shackle chain free from the beam. Aramis slumped lifelessly against the wall, held there by Espoir until Athos jumped off the chair and took him.

"Good. Get d'Artagnan out, now."

"You have about ten minutes before he wakes," Espoir told him. "But the guards outside are probably up and around by now. No skin contact."

"That's under control. Just get d'Artagnan back into the trees."

d'Artagnan's vision was fading, lost under the swirling input. He couldn't really hear much, wasn't sure if he was moving or not, couldn't feel the sticky wetness on his face and neck, but Espoir seemed mostly satisfied. Then the emotions started to fade as well; he lost Grimaud and the men with him, lost Porthos, perched in the tree line ready to take down the guards, lost Athos determinedly carrying Aramis out behind them. Finally he lost Espoir and spiralled into the dark.

Aramis was limp and pliable, the only reason Athos was able to carry him as far as he did. Aramis was hanging bonelessly over his shoulder, arms dangling slackly; Athos knew that wouldn't be helping the strained muscles, but there was nothing to do about it now. He caught up with Espoir inside the treeline. d'Artagnan appeared unconscious, one arm over Espoir's shoulder and feet dragging as Espoir hefted him along, mouth and chin stained with blood from a nosebleed.

Porthos stumbled up on Athos' other side, reaching for Aramis' head to check him. "What happened?"

"Let's get further away. Grimaud will search the area as soon as he realises Aramis is missing."

"I might be able to help with that." He gestured to the left, towards a rocky slope. "This way."

Athos followed him without complaint. Espoir dragged d'Artagnan after him, panting but doing his best to keep up. Porthos helped as best he could, but he clearly still wasn't feeling well.

They reached a narrow cave opening, barely big enough for a man. Athos eyed it doubtfully. "Porthos…"

"Opens up inside," Pothos told him. "It's dark, but there's plenty of space. The cave turns so we can probably risk a torch. If I'm sitting in the entryway Grimaud won't see it."

Athos shot a glance at Espoir, who was carefully ignoring them. "What if that doesn't work?"

"Then it's a small entryway and I'll just about fill it." Porthos shrugged. "Best we can do. I let the horses go, we'll have to call them back tomorrow."

Athos nodded, hefting Aramis again. There was a faint groan; Aramis was obviously starting to wake. He ducked his head to enter the cave, careful to shield Aramis' head as he followed the barely visible walls around a rough corner. He could tell from the feel of the air that he was in a larger space; a moment later Porthos slipped by him, and a moment after that sparks flew and caught on a piece of kindling.

"Keep it low," Porthos said, "and watch the air, but it should be alright. I'll go…" He gestured towards the entrance. "Saddlebags're there in the corner."

Athos nodded, easing Aramis down. Espoir came to help, bundling a spare cloak under his head and carefully settling his arms by his sides.

"d'Artagnan?" Athos asked, straightening.

Espoir turned to look at the far side of the cave, where d'Artagnan was curled on his side. "If this is anything like last time, he'll sleep a while. Maybe as much as a day."

"What hap—" Athos cut himself off as Aramis shifted and immediately groaned in pain. Athos dropped to hunker beside him again, one hand resting on his shoulder. "Hush, Aramis. I'm here. You're safe, but we must be quiet, understand?"

Aramis tried to reach for him, groaning in pain. "Athos…"

"Try to remain still. Are you injured anywhere? Wounds or bruises?"

He shook his head breathlessly. "It's all…" He tried to lift his arm, biting back a curse.

Now that he was a bit more aware, Athos let go of his shoulder and started to pick the locks on the wrist chain. The dim light made it difficult, but he freed one wrist. Aramis breathed a string of curses as the shackles pulled loose from torn skin.

"Can you bear the other one?" Athos asked softly. He was glad Porthos and d'Artagnan were a little distance away; dealing with them as well as his own pain would strain Aramis badly.

Aramis nodded, eyes closed tightly. Athos bent over the second shackle, working it carefully free. They'd bitten deeply into Aramis' wrists and his skin was torn up and bleeding.

Espoir came to join them, offering a waterskin and a length of cloth. "I don't know the herbs," he said apologetically.

Aramis jerked at the unexpected voice. "Who…"

"Easy," Athos said softly. "It's d'Artagnan's cousin. He's helping us. I'm going to wash your wrists; it will hurt badly." Porthos whistled quietly from the entryway and he grimaced. "Espoir, give me your glove."

Espoir obeyed without question and Athos turned back to Aramis. "We are hunted and must be silent," he murmured, holding up the glove. Aramis bit down hard on it, watching closely as Athos wet the cloth and began his work.

After a moment Espoir muttered an apology and carefully pressed a hand to Aramis' throat. Aramis collapsed, out cold again. "Should have thought of that earlier," Espoir muttered, carefully straightening Aramis' head to save his neck from straining any more. "Work fast. I won't be able to do that again for a while."

Aramis ripped a piece of the cloth free and wetted it before handing it to him. "Clean d'Artagnan's face. Let's not scare Aramis too badly when he sees him." Espoir nodded and went to do it, and Athos concentrated on Aramis' wrists, cleaning them carefully and wrapping them.

Porthos whistled again just as Aramis started to wake up. Athos found the waterskin and had it ready, holding it for Aramis when he clearly couldn't grip it himself. "Is there something in your herb bag that will help you?" he murmured.

"Yes. Bring…" He tried to reach for the bag and groaned again.

"Stop moving," Athos scolded gently, getting up to look through the saddlebags. "You must be very badly strained."

Aramis snorted pained agreement. "Where's…"

"Porthos is keeping watch. d'Artagnan is resting." With the danger mostly over, Athos lit a second torch for Espoir before bringing back Aramis' saddlebag.

"Resting?" Aramis repeated.

"We're worrying about you right now, not him. I'm going to help you sit up."

The effort of sitting up effectively distracted Aramis. Athos got him settled against the wall, not liking how pale he'd gone, and set the bag and torch where he could see.

Aramis tried to reach for the bag again and caught his breath. "Show me," he said after a moment.

Athos took out the little bags and pouches one by one, letting him look and sniff. Finally Aramis nodded. "There, that's willow."

"We can't heat the water."

"It will do cold. Not as well, but better than nothing."

Athos hesitated, looking at it. "This will help with the pain?"

"Yes."

"Will it help you sleep?" Aramis made to shrug and caught himself just in time. "What will?"

"The only sedative I carry is poppy."

Athos rooted through the pouches until he found it. "How much?"

"Athos, poppy is dangerous -"

"You must sleep." Aramis looked at him steadily. "We are none of us at our best," Athos said carefully. "I know that you will want to help us, and you must be rested for that."

Atamis tensed, shivering a little at the pain. "Porthos? d'Artagnan?"

"In no danger, either of them." He held up the poppy again.

He was surprised when Aramis gave in, but that just meant he'd been right and Aramis needed it. Athos found a heel of bread in one of the bags and made him eat it before giving him the herb mixture.

It took effect quickly, as Aramis was clearly exhausted by everything. Athos sat for a few minutes, making sure he was still breathing. Eventually he got up and went to check on Porthos.

The forest had been quiet for a while when Athos slipped out to join Porthos. "All clear?"

"Seems to be. Grimaud got all worked up, striding around cursing, but he never even looked this way. None of them did. There'll probably be another search in the morning, we should sit tight."

"Sound plan, although we're likely to be cold by then. How are you feeling?" He tilted Porthos' head to examine the wound.

"Stopped bleeding. Little dizzy, still, but not sick, and I held the Fade no problem."

"Good signs, both. I'll see what we have to eat. I'd rather save the willow bark for Aramis, if you think you can manage without." He started to rise.

Porthos caught his arm to halt him. "What happened?"

"What happened?" he repeated; stalling or genuinely not understanding, Porthos couldn't tell which.

"To Aramis," he said patiently. "What did they do to him?"

"Ah." He sank back down to sit. "I found him in a high ceilinged room. Grimaud's men shackled his wrists and hooked the chain over a high beam. Aramis must have been on a chair or table at the time. Then they removed the prop."

"And let him hang?" Porthos said softly, skirting the idea, unwilling to picture it.

"And let him hang. He was not conscious when I came into the room. I don't know how long he was unconscious. Not long, is my guess; too easy to suffocate, and Grimaud wanted him alive."

Porthos swallowed a couple of times. "But he's breathing' now?"

"Unobstructed, as far as I can tell. He's having difficulty moving. He must have strained almost every muscle in his body. Luckily, muscles heal relatively quickly. His wrists are torn from the shackles. They left his boots on, so his ankles seem fine. And at least they did not weight him down."

The clinical tone seemed wrong, although Porthos knew it was Athos' way of dealing with things. "He's sleeping?"

"He took willow bark and poppy. We will assess him in the morning. If we are lucky, Grimaud will give up the search and we can leave. If we are very lucky, Treville will have sent a rescue party. Do you think you'll be fit to travel?"

"Bit of rest, something to eat. I'll be fine."

"Good. Then I shall find you something to eat and relieve you here. Tell Espoir to get some rest and relieve me in a few hours."

"Do we trust him?"

"We've little choice, and he seems genuine in his desire to help d'Artagnan. Aramis is unlikely to be able to move on his own tomorrow and it would be difficult for the two of us to manage the two of them."

"True enough," Porthos said with a sigh. "Long as he does what he's told, then."

"If not, you can correct his behaviour any way you like," Athos promised, standing again.

"Careful, Athos. You know my sense of justice."

"I count on it." He nodded stiffly and went back inside.

Porthos let out one long, shuddering breath, allowing himself a few heartbeats to feel the full horror of what had happened to Aramis. Then he shoved it aside. They had other things to worry about right now.