Authors note: This is a two-part story, although both parts can be read alone. This is Aramis centric. So much so that he is the only one in the first half of the first part. I hope you enjoy it despite the lack of other Musketeers. The first part is finished, I will post the chapters over the next few days as I complete final read-throughs and run them through Grammarly.

Chapter One

He welcomed the cooling weather after a long day in the saddle. Aramis took a swig of water from the bottle and made a mental note that he needed to refill it. His horse needed to be rested as well. But his and his mare's comfort would have to wait. He had reached the rendezvous point.

The meeting required all of his attention. The contact would only wait for a few hours. And the valuable information would need to be taken back to Treville as soon as he safely could. The Captain had suggested he take a circuitous return route in case he and the contact were observed together.

Not for the first time, Aramis wished he was not on the mission alone. An extra pair of eyes would have been welcome. The area where he was to meet the contact was littered with potential hiding places. Aramis wondered if the contact knew what they were doing by picking the centre of a dark forest for the meeting.

A bird screeched somewhere to his left. His mare snorted in response. Aramis wondered if some unfortunate creature had become the screeching bird's dinner.

He returned his attention to the rough path that picked its way around large boulders and thorny bushes. Stray rocks posed constant irritants to the horse as she walked. The forest seemed to press into him and sucked the air away. The deeper they went into the woods the more oppressive the humidity became.

There were occasional openings to one side of the path or the other where a dell or gully sloped off steeply. Moss covered rocks and fallen trees had collected on the dank ground of the natural dips in the landscape.

Aramis knew the late afternoon light would be lengthening the shadows outside the forest. But in the centre of its tangle of branches and dark green fir trees, there were only oppressive voids of light on either side of the path. He felt uneasy. The sooner he met the contact and got the information the better. Aramis wanted to be on his way home that evening.

The journey to the rendezvous had taken five days. Travelling alone meant that he could travel further and faster each day. Making camp had been simple; he had eaten before it got dark and sheltered where he could each night. The importance of speed had been impressed on him by Treville. The days of travelling had left Aramis with plenty of time to wonder what was so important about the information he was to be given. He had not even been allowed to tell his brothers he was going. Treville had given him thirty minutes to prepare and sent him off before muster.

As he mused the circumstances that led to him being in the dense wood, he reached the clearing. Several shafts of light cut through the dimness like a sword thrusting forward and glinting off the sun. An ethereal glow surrounded the clearing. A poetic interlude to the darkness.

A man was sitting on one of the many boulders on the opposite side of the clearing. He rose as Aramis approached. He looked skittish, his eyes darting around constantly, looking for threats that, for all Aramis knew, were only feet away.

'Treville sent me,' said Aramis as he dismounted and tidied the reins.

He left the horse to nibble at the lush grass that had found its way into the clearing.

The man glanced around again before speaking, 'what time of year is she expected?'

Aramis nodded; he knew the man would use a code phrase. Treville had made him memorise three questions and responses in use by the network of contacts in the area.

'She is not expected until the autumn,' replied Aramis. 'She will arrive in September.'

The man narrowed his eyes for a few seconds before nodding slowly. He looked around again. Aramis glanced about; he could not make out anything beyond the clearing. The odd movement of a bush or leafy branch only indicated birds or beasts going about their lives. He had seen nothing to indicate that he had been followed, and there was nothing to indicate they were being watched. But he would remain vigilant.

The contact was wearing simple labourers clothing he would not stand out as he travelled about the countryside. Although his expensive, hard-wearing boots might give him away, Aramis hoped the man never washed the dust and dirt off them. He was carrying a simple bag slung across his body, keeping one hand over it as though it contained something important that he needed to be sure never left his side.

'You cannot write any of this down,' said the man, his accent had hints of Spanish, Aramis guessed he lived near the border.

'The Captain said I would have to remember it. How long do you have?'

'Long enough to question you and be sure you have retained the information.'

Aramis nodded, 'let's get started then.'

The contact looked around again before indicating the boulder where he had been resting. They both settled on the warm rock. The man stared ahead for a few seconds, his head nodding almost imperceptibly. Aramis guessed he was ordering the information, perhaps convincing himself that Aramis was the correct man to be giving it to. After a few seconds of inward contemplation, the man shifted slightly to look at Aramis.

'If this information falls into enemy hands-'

Aramis nodded, 'the Captain made it quite clear to me that I could not allow that to happen,' he said with a grim smile, 'I know that my life is forfeit if that were to happen.'

The man returned his smile before reaching out and giving Aramis' shoulder a conciliatory squeeze. They both knew the stakes could not get any higher.

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The contact, who went by the name Martin, spent some time ensuring Aramis had remembered all the details. Aramis knew he would not have a problem retaining the information but could understand the contacts need to be sure.

'Do you have far to travel?' asked Aramis as Martin finally accepted that he had done all he could to pass on the information and rose from his stony seat.

Martin shrugged, 'I am always on the move,' he said. 'I travel from place to place to place. I'm paid well for what I do but can never settle.'

Aramis nodded his understanding, 'but what you do is vital and, although it may not seem so, it is appreciated.'

The contact smiled, 'if people do not know they have been helped by my work, I have done my job well,' he said.

Aramis turned back to his horse. Before he had taken more than a couple of steps, he heard the unmistakable sound of men approaching them. He whirled around in time to see three men step out of the shadows behind Martin. More men appeared at various points around the clearing. Aramis' first thought was to wonder if they had been hiding there the entire time. He knew that Martin would have noticed them if they had arrived after he had and Aramis knew he would not have missed a group of heavy-set men moving through the tangle of branches and bushes that surrounded them.

His second thought was to wonder why they had waited until Aramis was about to leave with the information. They could have overpowered Martin, who was minimally armed with ease. The skittish man would have tried to prevent the information from being extracted from him, but he may not have been quick enough. Aramis realised the men had waited because now they had two men to extract the information from.

The men were organised and patient. Two dangerous things for an enemy to be.

Aramis knew there was no chance that he could fight his way out or make a run for it. The men were going to take him and the contact captive one way or another. Aramis decided he preferred to be taken without giving the men the excuse to harm him in some way. He wanted his wits about him ready to take the first opportunity to escape. He spread his arms out to the sides and allowed two men to approach him and disarm him.

Martin stumbled back a few paces towards the centre of the clearing. One of the approaching men, wearing a scuffed black jerkin, stepped closer to him, a gun aimed in the contact's direction. Martin glanced skywards for a few seconds. Aramis could see his lips moving for a few seconds before he crossed himself. Aramis knew what he was going to do. Knew that he might have to take the same way out if his plan of escape failed. But watching another man take his own life and do nothing to stop him was one of the hardest things Aramis had ever done.

Martin pulled a dagger from his belt, twisting the blade towards his chest as he raised it. The man that was walking towards him yelled for him to stop and quickened his pace. But he was too late. Martin plunged the dagger into his chest, pushing it to the hilt. The blade would pierce his heart. Aramis knew there would be nothing their captors would be able to do. The man in the jerkin holstered his gun and grabbed the contact, easing him to the ground. Aramis was surprised by the man's gentleness. Martin stared upwards with glassy eyes. He gasped a couple of times before going limp. The jerkin wearer reverently closed the dead man's eyes and looked down at him for a few seconds.

One of the men that had taken Aramis' weapons stepped forward, he pushed at the body with the toe of his boot before turning back to Aramis.

'Take him,' the man said. 'We cannot afford to lose them both.'

Aramis was grabbed firmly from either side and turned away from the clearing and the body of the contact. He was aware of his horse being led behind them. With his heart thumping, Aramis scanned the immediate area for any way to escape. Now that the men only had him to focus on any opportunities for escape were likely to diminish.

He mentally retraced the path away from the clearing. The dense forest did not offer up many paths. He knew they would exit the forest the same way he had entered it. He remembered the narrowest section. He remembered the screech of the bird. He had looked across at that moment. That was where he would make his move. He remembered there were several of the large boulders and jutting rocks at that point. He would have to move fast and take risks, but he had no choice. He could not allow himself to remain a captive.

The man holding Aramis on the right was gradually loosening his grip on his upper arm. The man on his left was only urging him on with a heavy hand on his shoulder. When they reached the narrow section, one of the men would have to let go. That would be his moment. If he did not run the instant he was released but waited a few seconds the other man would drop his guard. At least that was what Aramis hoped would happen.

None of the men had spoken since he was taken. He was not sure how many there were, but there were enough. The one man that had spoken was somewhere behind him. Aramis did not know if he was the one in charge. As he was the only one that had spoken, Aramis decided the man was in charge. He assessed each of the men that he could see ahead of him. Two of the men at the very front were vigilant. They were scanning the area constantly. The third man was younger. He was observing the other two men and trying to follow their lead. Aramis did not see the younger man as much of a threat. But he was wise enough not to dismiss him completely.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear one of the men talking quietly to his horse. Aramis could not make out what was said, but the man was speaking calmly. The horse would be valuable to the gang of men, either to add to their own stable or to sell. Aramis hoped he could reunite with his mare but equally expected he would have to abandon her.

The path began to narrow. The man who was loosely holding his arm took a couple of steps forward, releasing Aramis in the process. Aramis did not react; he bided his time. His moment would come in mere seconds.

Timing would be everything.

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