A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, beeblegirl, pallysAramisRios, and Lia Whyteleafe for reviewing! Warning for animal cruelty in this chapter (to dragons).

Chapter 4

"Found some more of that pink powder," Porthos said, waving Clara over.

They'd been on the trail for several hours that morning, covering a lot of ground but not yet finding the missing dragons.

Vrita and Issa hung back as Clara came closer to look.

"That's a boot print," she said, pointing to a spot a few feet away.

"Like the pied piper of dragons," Porthos muttered. But where were they heading and why?

Vrita made a chirping sound and thrust her nose at something in the distance. Porthos straightened and squinted that direction, stiffening when he caught sight of the circling buzzards. A lot of them.

"What do you think?" Porthos asked.

Clara's mouth pressed into a tight line as she looked at the carrion birds, then at the tracks on the ground. "They're in our current path."

Yeah, Porthos was afraid of that. They were also getting close to the border, and he wasn't sure what to do if the trail led them outside of France.

They set off again, careful to make sure there were still signs of the trail while also quickening their pace with a sense of dreaded urgency. The dragon tracks did diverge away from the spot where the buzzards were circling, but Porthos still felt they should take a look. He waved for the dragons to stay there while he and Clara continued on.

The stench hit his nostrils before they even reached the source, and he jerked his head away in response. There was only one thing that smelled like that. Porthos swiped his bandanna off his head and covered his nose and mouth as he pressed onward. Clara's face was also scrunched up as she kept pace with him. They rounded a wall of shrubbery and immediately pulled up short before they could walk right into the large dragon carcass.

Porthos tried not to gag into his bandanna as the odor assaulted him full force. The sight wasn't much better—carrion birds had already been picking at exposed flesh and flies were buzzing around like a cloud.

"Is it Nurim?" he asked between coughs. He already knew it wasn't the younger dragon, which he remembered being a rufous orange color.

Clara shook her head. "No." She covered her nose and mouth and ventured closer. "He's been dead for a week or more." Her brows furrowed as she looked it over. "These wounds are strange."

Porthos grimaced and moved closer so he could see for himself. There were dozens of shallow cuts that were too clean to have been done by another dragon. An acimite blade? There were also whole patches of scales that looked like they'd been…skinned.

"Porthos," Clara choked out softly.

He moved around to where she was standing and staring at something on the dragon's flank.

"What do you make of that?" she asked tautly, pointing to what looked like a perfectly spaced grid etched into the dragon's hide, and inside each square was a different type of wound, anything from minor irritation to a fully charred burn, and the glittering residue of various colored powders.

"I don' know," he murmured, but he was getting a bad feeling. Aside from the myriad mutilations, there was no clear sign of what had killed this dragon. "Let's get back to the trail," he suggested.

They turned away from the poor creature and returned to where they'd left Vrita and Issa. From there, they kept following the tracks, which led them straight toward a lone mountain only half a mile away. Porthos was thinking there must be a cave, but as they approached a cleft in the mountainside, he realized the entire mountain was hollowed out, with a jagged crack all across the top that let in full daylight.

They crept up to the edge of the opening, which had a shallow stream bed burbling its way out. No doubt it had once been a raging river with the power to erode the entire inside of a mountain over hundreds of years.

And someone had set up a base inside it.

Canvas sheets had been stretched taut over the center of the cavern in a makeshift ceiling. Rows and rows of tables were set up underneath, each one of them full with jars and vials. Several had elaborate contraptions with beakers and glass tubes bubbling with various substances. Porthos had seen a station like this before—in an alchemist's laboratory.

And off to the left were two wooden platforms, each one holding down a dragon with notched rods over their necks, keeping their heads pinned to the floor, and shackles clamped over the joints of their wings, completely immobilizing them from head to foot.

Clara burst forward and sprinted across the cavern toward them before Porthos could stop her. Gritting his teeth, he drew his pistol and followed.

"Nurim!" She ran her hands over the older dragon's head. He blinked blearily up at her and let out a low keen. Clara threw a horrified look at the young dragon beside him, then started yanking at the rod around Nurim's neck.

"Hey!" a heavily accented voice shouted.

Porthos whirled and raised his pistol as an older, blond-haired gentleman emerged from behind a set of work tables.

"What are you doing here?" the man demanded. Porthos couldn't be sure, but he thought the accent sounded Swedish.

"I was thinkin' about askin' you the same thing," he growled. "What is all this?"

"This is my laboratory," the man replied haughtily. "And you are trespassing."

"You're on French soil. So I'm gonna ask you again—what are you doin' with these dragons?"

The man's eyes flicked over to where Vrita and Issa were standing near the entrance, their postures guarded and eyes narrowed in warning. "You have dragons?" he said, somewhere between intrigued and worried.

"I'm a musketeer," Porthos told him. "Now answer my question."

"I see." The man's gaze began to dart around nervously. "I'm an alchemist. I am out here conducting experiments to discover new formulas."

"Experiments…" Porthos's eyes widened as he thought back to the dead dragon they'd discovered. "You're experimenting on dragons?"

"You monster!" Clara shrieked and lunged at him.

He backpedaled around one of his work tables and flipped it toward her, forcing her backward as glass shattered across the ground. He ducked under another table and came back up with a small black cask, which he held out to an open flame on the work station. Sparks flew as whatever was inside the cask ignited. Then he tossed the device through the air at them.

Porthos dove for Clara, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down as the flash bomb exploded. The concussive force rattled his skull and stars danced across his eyes even though he'd managed to close them in time. He scrambled to his feet, pistol still in hand, and whipped his gaze around for the alchemist.

The dragons had also started forward at the attack, and that was when Porthos spotted the man pop back up, this time with a fistful of something he threw at the incoming dragons. Porthos's heart seized when the black powder hit Issa in the face and she reeled back with a screech. No…

The blue dragon's eyes turned red and she spun toward Vrita, attacking her instead. The two dragons went rolling in a tangle of gnashing teeth and claws across the cavern.

"Issa!" Clara screamed.

Porthos ran after the alchemist. He saw the man darting around tables, then ducking down behind one. Porthos skidded to a stop and took aim. When the man popped back up with another incendiary device to throw at him, Porthos fired. The musket ball went through a beaker before slamming into the alchemist's shoulder and dropping him like a rock. Porthos drew his sword and sprinted around the tables, finding the alchemist trying to crawl away. He tapped the point of his blade against the man's back, prompting him to roll over and raise his hands in surrender.

Across the cavern, Vrita shrieked as Issa body slammed her into the rock wall. Porthos glanced back at the alchemist and clobbered him in the head with the pommel of his sword. He then sprinted back to the work stations and scanned the jars of various colored powders.

"Issa, stop!" Clara begged.

The blue dragon whirled toward her and roared before charging.

Porthos spotted the pink powder and snatched it up. Arching his arm back, he threw the entire jar as hard as he could. It struck Issa in the face, shattering on impact and dousing her in the hypnotic compound. She skidded to a stop and tossed her head back and forth. Porthos ran for Clara, intent on getting her out of harm's way. But as the two compounds warred with each other, the pink gradually began to win out. Issa's eyes remained red, but she swayed lethargically until she slumped on the ground, head lolling to the side, pupils glazed and unfocused.

Clara took a hesitant step forward. "Issa?"

"Best give her a bit," Porthos warned as he reached her side. "Dragon's bane has a hell of a bite."

Clara bit her lip. "Will she be all right?"

"Should be. Maybe after a few hours," he added, because he didn't actually know whether this was the same dragon's bane or a nastier version. And when that alchemist woke up, Porthos was going to ask him.

"You okay, Vrita?" he asked.

She bobbed her head in the affirmative. She looked a little banged up but nothing serious.

"Why don't you bring our alchemist friend over here so he doesn't wake up and try to sneak off."

She bared her teeth and lumbered over to where Porthos had left the man.

He reached out and gave Clara's arm a squeeze, then the two of them went to get the two captive dragons free. The young one's eyes rolled wildly as Porthos approached him.

"Easy there, boy," he soothed. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He started by showing the dragon his hands from the front, gently laying them on the dragon's snout, then moving around to the side so he could get to the neck clamp. "My name's Porthos," he went on in a calming tone. "You probably don't remember me. Bet you haven't had too many good experiences with humans, have you?"

The dragon was breathing heavily as Porthos unlocked the clamp and pushed the rod up. Sven didn't rear up right away, perhaps too drugged to be able to move much. Porthos had to stretch to flip the trap completely over to the other side where it hit with a raucous clang. He immediately put his hand back on Sven's neck and rubbed soothingly.

"Let me get those wings next."

He continued talking to the young dragon as he went through each mechanism to finally get him completely free. It took Clara just as long with Nurim, and the older dragon stood up on shaky legs to stumble off the platform, only to fold back down to the ground.

Vrita suddenly snapped her gaze toward the entrance to the cavern. Porthos scrambled for his pistol to quickly reload it, but apparently it wasn't necessary.

"Vrita?" an incredulous, familiar voice blurted.

Porthos straightened. "D'Artagnan?" He blinked dubiously as d'Artagnan, Athos, Etienne, and Geoffrey, followed by their dragons, made their way inside the mountain. "What are you doin' here?" he exclaimed.

"Us?" d'Artagnan rejoined. "What are you doing here?"

"In dereliction of duty, I might add," Athos said tightly. His gaze flitted around the scene, pausing on Clara briefly.

Porthos cleared his throat. "Aramis has the royal family covered. Clara needed some help and I volunteered."

Athos just rolled his eyes.

"Help with what?" d'Artagnan asked, also looking around at the mess in confusion. "We're following a lead on the alchemist that's been supplying the Spanish with the new compounds they've been attacking the dragons with."

Porthos's gaze hardened and he glared at the unconscious Swede. "That's him. And he's been makin' these new compounds by experimenting on captive dragons. These three are from Clara's clan. The blue one got hit with dragon's bane. I tried to use another compound to neutralize it, but…not sure how well they mix."

"Yeah, we had an encounter with the dragon's bane too," d'Artagnan muttered.

Porthos glanced over Ayelet and Savron, but they seemed okay, to his relief.

"Is he dead?" Athos asked, nodding to the Swede.

"No, just shot."

"Then let's wake him up. I want to know exactly what formulas he has on hand and the antidotes."

Etienne and Geoffrey moved forward to haul the unconscious man off the ground. Porthos thought about joining them for the interrogation, but he decided to stay behind with Clara and her dragons. He found some clean buckets and filled them with water from the stream, then set them before Nurim and Sven so they could drink. Once they had their fill, Porthos found some fabric among the alchemist's supplies, and together he and Clara wet them and began to gently wipe down the wounded dragons. At least it didn't look like the Swede had had too much opportunity to experiment on them yet, though they had certainly been brutalized enough as it was. Porthos also wiped down Issa's face, slightly tensed for the dragon's bane to rear its violent head again, but the poor thing was too out of it to notice.

It took a few hours for the dragons to recover from the various drugs they'd been subjected to, and in that time Athos and the other musketeers had thoroughly questioned the alchemist and catalogued his various compounds.

"There's a lot to take back to camp," Athos said when they all gathered together again. "But there is a cure for what poisoned the dragons."

Porthos was relieved to hear it. "I'm, uh, gonna help Clara get her dragons home safely."

Athos leveled an unreadable look at him. It wasn't like he'd been part of the original mission anyway. After a moment, Athos merely turned away to begin giving orders to the others, which was the closest thing to permission Porthos was going to get.

"How about we start with jus' getting out of this place?" he suggested to the dragons. They hardly looked well enough for a flight home, but some fresh air away from this torture chamber would do them some good.

Clara coaxed them to stand and they began to shuffle their way out of the mountain. Porthos turned them in the opposite direction away from the dragon carcass, and they meandered along for a bit until he signaled a stop to rest.

"That's it," he encouraged. He went to Sven and stroked the young dragon's neck as he began to shake anxiously. "You're all right. Feel that nice warm sun?" Sven shuddered but slowly calmed down. "There you go."

Porthos paused when he caught Clara eyeing him.

"You're good with them," she said.

He shrugged. "Like you said, they deserve respect."

Clara smiled softly.

They rested a bit longer, and the dragons gradually regained their strength until they were ready to begin the flight home. Porthos invited Clara to ride on Vrita with him, give Issa a break. She accepted.

They took it slow, gliding along the air currents whenever they could. It wasn't actually that far back to the area where Nurim and Sven had gone missing from, not by air anyway. The older dragon took the lead as he angled his way down into a mountain valley and landed in a glade next to a crystal clear pool fed by a waterfall. Multiple dragons poked their heads out from the surrounding trees and rocks at their arrival, then came forward to greet their returned clan mates.

Porthos slid down from Vrita after Clara and roved his gaze around curiously. "This is nice. A little paradise you got here."

Her lips quirked. "It is nice here, peaceful. A place we won't be bothered."

They fell silent, and Porthos shifted his boot through the grass. "Well, I wish you all the best," he said awkwardly, reluctant to part ways.

Clara cocked her head at him. "And I you." She reached out to snag his arm, then stood on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you."

He broke into a modest smile. "You're welcome."

With that, he climbed back onto Vrita and waved farewell as they took to the skies.

.o.0.o.

Aramis stood over the Dauphin's crib, watching him kick and flail with a fond smile. He was fully healthy again, the steam treatments having worked. Not that Doctor Delacroix was going to admit to that being the turning factor, but it didn't matter to Aramis. The important thing was the child was fine.

"I can never thank you enough," Anne said, standing on the other side of the crib and gazing down at her son.

"Your thanks isn't necessary, Your Majesty," he replied. "I'm only glad he's well once again."

She graced him with a soft smile. "You always come to my rescue, Aramis."

He met her gaze and held it, unable to look away. Neither did she. Aramis felt transfixed, like a moon pulled into a sun's captivating orbit. By the way she was looking at him, she must have felt it too. Both of them were poised on a precipice they both had to know they couldn't cross. And it was to their good fortune that a crib currently physically separated them.

Movement in their peripheral vision finally shattered the moment. The baby's governess was puttering about, trying to remain unobtrusive.

Aramis used the distraction to carefully extricate himself from this treacherous influence, taking a step back. "Your Majesty," he said with a bow, then turned to leave.

But his gaze kept straying over his shoulder back to Anne. And hers to him.

NEXT TIME

In an effort to regain favor among the people, the Queen sponsors a printing press for Ninon and pressures Aramis into starting secret peace talks with Spain. But her enemies turn both ventures into disaster.