A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, Undertheoaktrees, BrokenKestral, LadyWallace, pallysAramisRios, and lizard1969 for reviewing! I'm glad you enjoyed the last one. XD
This one's also set in my dragon rider verse, back in season 1 before d'Artagnan became a musketeer.
No 15. Science Gone Wrong — Athos, Aramis, Porthos, d'Artagnan
Athos pointed out the two-story masonry building as their destination, and his dragon veered downward to land in the field outside. Aramis's and Porthos's dragons landed behind them.
"So this is where the alchemist Jacquard has been conducting his business?" d'Artagnan asked, sliding out of the saddle behind Athos.
"Yes."
The musketeers dismounted and left their dragons in the field as they approached the house. Athos stopped outside the door and banged the side of his fist against it. A few moments later, a wiry youth with red hair and red cheeks opened up.
"Is your master at home?" Athos inquired.
The boy nodded. "He doesn't wish to be disturbed though—"
Athos stuck his arm through the door and pushed his way in. "We are Musketeers here on the King's business. He will receive us."
The boy sputtered, unable to do anything against the four armed men barging in. "But he's working!"
The alchemist's dwelling was like a rat's nest, packed nearly to the brim with rows and rows of shelving units containing a myriad of jars, scrolls, and other items. Athos navigated his way through the maze toward the sound of tinkering in the back.
"Monsieur Jacquard?" he called.
"Yes, what is it?" an irritated voice called back.
Athos turned a corner into a work room with a furnace and chimney and multiple cooking pots lined up in rows with glass beakers and tubes connecting them. A man with a frizzy beard and spectacles was bent over them.
"Monsieur Jacquard, I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. You are under arrest on charges of dealing with illegal substances."
The old man looked up and furrowed his brow. "What?"
Athos gestured to a crate clearly labeled as one of the contraband items.
The alchemist squinted at it. "Oh, I can explain that. I'm working! I'm developing a new formula."
"Yes," Aramis interjected. "We received reports of your experiments after they contaminated the local water supply."
Jacquard waved his hand dismissively. "A minor setback in the pursuit of advancement."
"Yeah, well, your pursuit stops now," Porthos said with a slight note of menace.
"We are here to escort you to Paris to be tried before the King," Athos went on.
Jacquard threw his hands up. "Doesn't the King see that my new formula will only benefit him and France? I must be allowed to continue."
D'Artagnan stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You're done, monsieur."
Aramis nodded to the serving boy cowering by the door. "You should go home."
The lad wasted no time in bolting.
Jacquard continued to shake his head and began frantically puttering around his work station. "No, I must continue. The King will see what I have to offer him."
Athos was about to signal to Porthos to bodily drag the alchemist outside when the old man grabbed two fistfuls of different compounds and tossed them together into one of the pots. There was a flash of blinding light and a concussive force that exploded outward, whiting out everything.
When Athos came to, he found himself flat on his back and abruptly choking on a throat full of dust. His body convulsed with a series of hacks and he struggled to roll onto his side. More dust and grit sprinkled down from his hair and face; he could feel it clinging to him like chalk. Once the coughing petered out, he ran his gloved hand over his face, trying to brush the powder out of his eyes. All around him, the house was in ruins.
He opened his mouth to call for the others, only to inhale more dust that triggered another fit of coughing. Scooting around on his hands and knees, Athos searched through the rubble. He spotted Aramis only a few feet away, covered in a white coating so thick he looked like a marble gisant. But there was red underneath some of it, mixing into grit as it pooled from his hairline.
Athos crawled over and gripped his shoulder, having to restrain himself from giving his friend a small shake in case he was seriously wounded. There was only faint light peeking through a few gaps in the rubble around them, making it impossible for Athos to determine how injured he was. He squeezed Aramis's shoulder as tightly as he could but got no response. Heart hammering in his chest, he yanked his glove off and fumbled frantically to find a pulse. He nearly sagged when he did.
Alive was good. Alive he could work with.
Athos pulled off his scarf and tied it around Aramis's head wound. It was hardly clean, but there wasn't an inch of either of them that was at the moment. Athos coughed again as dust continued to tickle the back of his throat.
He heard a grunt coming from somewhere to his left and twisted around, eyes scanning the debris. Something twinged in his back and he grimaced. He could feel the bruises forming all over his body but pushed it aside for now.
The grunting became louder and Athos picked his way toward it. "D'Artagnan?"
He almost missed the young Gascon, half buried under some fallen beams and everything awash in gray.
"Athos! I'm stuck!"
Athos crawled over and examined the wreckage. "Are you injured?"
"Don't think so," d'Artagnan gritted out, still pushing against the beam pinning him.
Athos shifted position and reached down to lift. "Ready?"
D'Artagnan nodded, and Athos pushed upward. But something in his arm immediately gave out and he collapsed backward, rubbing at the strained muscle.
"I can't lift it by myself," he said regretfully. "And Aramis is unconscious." He turned his head to scan the rubble. "Porthos! Porthos!"
He got no response and ended up choking and coughing on the dust that got stirred up in his throat.
"Can you get out and get help?" d'Artagnan asked once the fit subsided.
Athos hesitated; he hated to leave them like this, but he definitely couldn't get either of them out on his own.
A creaking and grinding sound emanated from a little ways down, and the rubble started to shift, shards of sunlight lancing down to pierce the gray shroud. Athos stood and cautiously limped his way closer. The debris moved again, this time as a set of massive claws took hold and wrenched it away.
"Down here!" Athos called, trying not to shout too loud. The dragons would hear him anyway.
A shriek responded from outside and he caught a glimpse of a blue snout.
"Come this way!" Athos backtracked toward d'Artagnan, though stopped a few feet away so the dragons wouldn't be digging right on top of him, but hopefully they could pick through the debris enough to help free him. "Dig here!"
Athos backed up, watching tensely as the roof of rubble groaned above him. A few moments later, pricks of light began to break through as the dragons removed piece by piece.
Once a significant gap had been cleared, Athos shouted for them to stop. "See this beam here?" he called. "D'Artagnan's trapped underneath. Can you lift it without bringing more debris down?"
He couldn't hear the dragons conferring with each other, of course, but a minute later, Savron reached a clawed foot down and grasped the beam, then lifted. He didn't have to pull it all the way out, just enough for d'Artagnan to squirm free. Athos hobbled back to grip his arm and help pull him out.
"Okay, let it down gently!"
Savron set the beam down, then let out a querying trill.
"Wait here," Athos said, then hurried back to Aramis, who had yet to regain consciousness. Athos tried not to worry about that.
"Is he?" d'Artagnan asked fearfully, having followed.
"He's alive," Athos replied. "Help me carry him back over there."
Athos slipped his arms underneath Aramis's shoulders while d'Artagnan grabbed his ankles, and they carefully transported him over to the gap in the ceiling.
"Savron, throw down the anchor line. I need you to pull Aramis and d'Artagnan up."
There was a thwack of wing beats as Athos's dragon lifted into the air to hover directly above them. Athos saw him snake his head around to carefully nip the coiled anchor line free of its loop so one end of the rope could come falling down, the other still securely tied to the saddle.
"Get a good hold on him," Athos instructed d'Artagnan as he grabbed the rope and began to fashion a lasso.
D'Artagnan looked uncertain but nevertheless scooted closer to Aramis and half lifted him into his arms. Athos then tied the loop around the both of them as best he could. A second line came dropping down to smack his head, and Athos looked up to find Rhaego had joined Savron.
Athos gave the russet dragon a brusque nod and tied that rope around his friends as well. "Ready?" he asked d'Artagnan.
"What about you?"
"I have to find Porthos."
D'Artagnan's throat bobbed and he nodded. Athos called up for the dragons to raise them out. It wasn't a smooth maneuver, not when each flap of their wings gave a jolting ascent by a few feet each time. D'Artagnan clung desperately to Aramis, and Athos held his breath until they were clear of the wreckage and gliding away. Two safe, one to go.
Athos turned to survey the dim rubble. Nothing was recognizable, but he tried to remember where they'd been standing. Porthos had been across from d'Artagnan, so if d'Artagnan had landed there, then Porthos should be…
Athos headed off that direction, stumbling through detritus and calling his friend's name in between mental repetitions of please be alive, please be alive.
He jolted to a stop at the sight of a body up ahead. But no, it was leaner than Porthos. Athos inched forward, exhaling heavily when he found it was the alchemist, dead. He hadn't been so lucky in his impact with the wall. Athos felt only a modicum of sympathy. The man had been haphazardly playing with forces he didn't understand. Who was to say he wouldn't have ended up reducing the entire area to a crater if he'd been allowed to keep at it?
Athos tried to reorient himself based on Jouquard's final position, then adjusted and kept pressing on through the rubble. "Porthos!" he called hoarsely.
Then he spotted a boot and his heart dropped into his stomach once again. Athos scrambled forward, pushing aside a few lightweight pieces of debris to reveal Porthos lying underneath, coated in dust and eyes closed. And a large piece of wood sticking out of his shoulder.
Athos frantically reached out to feel for a pulse and was once again granted another miracle this day. But they were not out of danger yet.
He heard Vrita squawking outside, her throaty dragon call slightly muffled. Athos took a breath and yelled for her as loud as he could to signal their location.
A few moments later, the rubble began to shift and rumble from what sounded like a dragon climbing over it, and dust sprinkled down around them.
"Careful!" Athos shouted. "We're right here! Start digging at least six feet away!"
The movement ceased, but then started up again where Athos had directed. Now all he could do was wait as Vrita gradually broke through the detritus, then started prying more debris away in an effort to reach them.
Porthos let out a low moan.
"Easy," Athos said, pressing a hand against his uninjured shoulder. "Don't move."
"Wha 'appened?"
"The alchemist blew us all up," Athos replied dryly.
Porthos blinked a few times, brow pinching. Then his eyes widened. "Aramis? D'Artagnan!"
"They're already out," Athos assured him. "We'll be out soon. Now don't move. You have a piece of wood in your shoulder in case you hadn't noticed."
Porthos shifted his gaze to the left and then jerked it away, squeezing his eyes shut. "Damn," he breathed.
"Where's your bandana?" Athos asked. "I'm afraid I already used my scarf on another need."
Porthos grunted. "Mm, right pocket."
Athos gingerly reached over to pull it out, then wrapped it around the protruding shrapnel in an effort to stabilize it.
"Athos!" d'Artagnan called as Savron swooped down to hover above the hole Vrita had made. "Do you have Porthos?"
"Yes!"
D'Artagnan nodded in relief and threw down the anchor lines.
Athos repeated the configuration he'd made with d'Artagnan and Aramis, and then gave one of the ropes a tug to signal they were ready. The lines tightened abruptly as they were lifted off the floor, and Porthos choked on a cry of pain. Athos also gritted his teeth as the coarse rope bit into various bruises.
The dragons lifted them out of the rubble and then carried them over to a clear patch of ground and set them down as gently as they could. It was still a tad jarring with their wounds though.
D'Artagnan leaped out of Savron's saddle and hurried over to help untie them. Athos helped lay Porthos flat on the ground, then swept his gaze around in search of Aramis. He was laid out several feet away, his dragon crouched worriedly next to him. But his head was moving slightly and one hand was resting on Rhaego's leg, which meant he'd finally woken up.
Still, Athos knew Aramis wouldn't be in any shape to function as their medic right now. But it seemed the explosion had drawn a crowd from the nearby town, as Athos saw several figures in the distance making their way toward them. Hopefully there was a physician among them.
"Get this bloody thing out," Porthos growled.
"Not without proper medical supervision," Athos rejoined. "So just lie still until that can happen."
Porthos clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.
Athos looked at d'Artagnan, giving him a thorough once-over now that they were in the light. The boy met his gaze and gave him a nod; he was all right.
Athos patted his shoulder and then made his way over to Aramis.
"Oh thank God," the marksman breathed as Athos came into his line of sight. "The others?"
"I'm sure a physician will be here soon enough," Athos replied.
Aramis frowned and started trying to sit up. "How serious is…" He trailed off as he fell back, obviously overcome by a wave of dizziness.
"Yours is serious enough that you are not to move until a doctor looks you over. I will fly out and retrieve one if I have to." Athos knelt down and gently pressed a hand to Aramis's shoulder. "And to ease your worry, we're all alive and in one piece." He looked at Rhaego. "Keep an eye on him."
The russet dragon snorted and plopped his head directly on Aramis's chest, which would prevent him from getting up at all.
Athos shook his head to himself. "Thank you. But be gentle," he reminded the young dragon.
He then stiffly got to his feet again and turned to deal with the next thing, but came face to face with his dragon instead. Savron gave him an appraising look and then arched a single, pointed brow at him.
Athos's lips twitched because even though he was the lieutenant and it was his responsibility to clean up this mess and see to everyone else before himself…his dragon would always look after him.
Athos let himself take a moment to lean against Savron's shoulder, his exhaustion and aches tugging him down. But they were all alive, miraculously.
Athos could take another moment to appreciate that.