Chapter Six
The echoing clang and the sound of footsteps were enough to get him to raise his head. He was slumped against the wall, staring at his hands which lay in his lap. If he concentrated on his fingers he could forget about how nauseous he felt for a few minutes.
The door was pulled open, and he made eye contact with the leader. His eyes strayed to the vial of liquid. He watched it continually as the men gathered around him. As Garlic breath went to pin his arms to his sides Aramis shook his head. He pulled away. His movements felt slow. He thought he heard one of the men chuckle. He looked up and saw the young man watching him. The young man did not look away anymore; he just watched Aramis.
With pity?
Garlic breath wrapped his arms around Aramis and pulled him back to the position the leader wanted him in. Aramis turned his head away. Was that another chuckle? He was grabbed by the firm hands of the leader who forced his head around. Wheezy pulled his head back and without much more persuasion Aramis drank the liquid. He did not try to spit it out.
Then they waited. Aramis did not look at the other men. He allowed his head to loll forward. He allowed the feelings of inadequacy to be washed away at the same time as the nausea and general aches went. By the time the men were letting him go and leaving his cell, he felt better.
There was a piece of cheese with the bread and the apple. Aramis smiled. He could not remember smiling for a long time.
Was he happy because there was a piece of cheese? Or was he happy because he had been given some more of the liquid?
He did not care.
But he did care.
The moment of happiness dissipated.
He did not feel happy. He felt pathetic.
He had allowed himself to be tortured without even realising it. He had allowed the torture. He had allowed the men to make him amenable to them. Was he at a point where he would do as they asked? Had they broken him without even hurting him?
They were not gentle with him when they forced him to drink the liquid. Although, they were not as firm with him now. He was sure they were not holding him as firmly.
They did not need to. They had starved him to get him to that point.
And they had made him need them.
He hated himself.
He hated his cell.
He hated the sunshine.
He hated the spiders.
He hated the men.
Aramis pulled his knees up and leaned his elbows on them. He buried his face in his hands and screwed his eyes shut. He remained still for a few seconds.
Then he screamed.
He screamed and he shouted. He did not know what he was shouting, but it made him feel better.
He wondered if the men would be able to hear him?
He wondered if the men cared?
MMMM
'Aramis, you need to stay awake. I am not carrying you. And I am not leaving you.'
Aramis made a conscious effort to walk straighter. He knew Athos was taking most of his weight. He had received worse injuries but that did not make him feel any better. The couple of miles they had to walk back to the garrison in the cold of the night was not something he was looking forward to.
He stumbled on a dislodge cobble. Athos tightened his grip.
'There is nothing too bad,' said Athos, 'it is only cuts, grazes and bruises.'
'I know,' quipped Aramis, 'I was there when they were dishing them out.'
'And you took them well, my friend,' replied Athos with a chuckle of his own.
'You can take the beating next time.'
'They picked you before I had a chance to volunteer,' said Athos.
Aramis smirked before wincing and putting all his concentration into the walk back to the garrison and the safety and comfort of its infirmary.
MMMM
Getting away from his captors was something he should have been planning all the time. Had the drug in the liquid addled his mind?
He kept thinking about the assorted ways he and his friends had escaped capture in the past. When he and Athos had been taken by the thugs it was Athos who had got them out. His friend had spotted the weakness in the gang of opportunistic men and exploited it.
Could Aramis do the same? The young man was a weak member of the gang. And perhaps Wheezy could be exploited?
MMMM
'Get him untied, we need to clean this-'
'We need to leave. There is no time,' slurred Athos as he tried to pull away from Aramis' grasp.
Porthos was busy searching the room for anything that might be useful whilst d'Artagnan went to work on the rope around Athos' wrists with a serrated blade.
'There is time to at least bandage your back Athos. We can stop it getting any worse than it already is.'
Athos glared at him for several seconds. Aramis raised an eyebrow. He was not going to back down. And Athos was not strong enough to come up with any witty retorts at that moment.
MMMM
Without his strength, he was limited in what he could do to escape. He could not fight the men. Not now. If he had made more of an effort to start with, he might have been able to.
For a couple of days he tried to pull away from the men, to spit out the liquid. But he was never successful.
The cheese was a one-off. Only bread and an apple were supplied again.
But, the men were coming each day again.
He followed their every move, he tried to find more weaknesses. Did the leader have a slight limp? Did he favour his left leg a little?
MMMM
'Just breath, Porthos. Take a breath. Slowly…'
Aramis rested one hand on Porthos' chest and clutched at the reaching hand with the other. He held Porthos' hand firmly, trying to give reassurance. Porthos continued to gasp. The shock was not dissipating from his eyes.
'Breath Porthos. Slowly.'
Porthos gasped again.
'You'll pass out. Slowly.'
Porthos made more of an effort. The breath was still short, but it was deeper. Aramis allowed a smile of encouragement to cross his lips. He nodded for Porthos to keep going. He took deliberately deep and long breaths to give his friend something to aim for.
'Sor… ry.'
'Why?'
'Pan… ic… ing.'
'Porthos they practically drowned you. I think you are allowed a small amount of panic to seep into your usually calm nature.'
His friend managed a smile before continuing to calm his breathing.
MMMM
Aramis would have to be calm when he escaped. He would have to force any of the irrational thoughts away. He knew he was not thinking straight a lot of the time. Particularly when they tortured him by not coming for two days.
It was the third day, and Aramis was watching the faint shadow move towards the fourth stone.
They were late.
How could he be calm if they did not come to give him the liquid?
'Why aren't you here?'
'Why haven't you come?'
'It's been two days?'
His questions went unanswered.
Had they left him? Was the information he had of no use to them now? He knew it was time-sensitive but by months, not days. The information was still highly important.
Where were they?
MMMM
'D'Artagnan, let me look at your wrists. D'Artagnan, they've gone. It's over. You're safe now.'
Aramis had to move Athos out of the way. Athos looked angry. If Porthos had not stopped him he probably would have pummelled the man that had left d'Artagnan hanging by his wrists to a pulp. The Musketeer was too wound up to be of any use at that moment.
D'Artagnan moaned. It was clear he was in a lot of discomfort from the position he had been left in. Porthos stepped closer and took the younger man's weight as Aramis cut the ropes. They lowered him to the ground, easing his arms to a more natural position. D'Artagnan had his eyes screwed shut the entire time.
'He won't be up to much for a few hours. His wrists are in tatters and his shoulders must be screaming.'
Aramis shook his head.
'But he held out,' said Porthos. 'He could have cracked. He could have given up the information.'
MMMM
'Please come back.'
The fourth day. Or the fifth.
He was hungry and thirsty. But he wanted the nausea and the fever and the cold to go away more. His head was thumping. There was no part of him that did not hurt.
Aramis realised he would have preferred to be tortured more conventionally. They could have beaten him, or whipped him, or pretended to drown him, or left him in an uncomfortable position. Any of those was preferable.
'I'll tell you what you-'
He stopped himself.
No.
He could not tell them what he knew. He was not allowed.
He flopped onto his back on the floor. He could feel every indentation on the stones. He stared at the ceiling. Brown was fixing his web. Intricate movements that fascinated Aramis. Speckled was standing a few feet from the corner. The inverted spider did not seem to be starving.
Aramis was hungry.
He turned onto his side and reached out to the spot on the floor where the food would be left. He pressed his finger onto a stale crumb and brought it towards his lips. The crumb dropped from his finger. He stared at the crumb but made no further effort to get it.
The distant echoing clang.
Had he imagined it?
Was he imagining the footsteps?
The door was pulled open. The men, who Aramis realised were all a little blurred now, entered his cell. He searched for the leader; he looked for the vial. As Garlic breath pulled him up to sit, Aramis reached for the vial. The leader crouched in front of him and put the vial into Aramis' hand. He helped Aramis to hold the vial to his lips.
Aramis drank the liquid.
The leader pulled the vial away from him. Garlic breath let him go, allowing him to lie on the floor again. Next to the bread and the apple that the young man had set down.
Aramis watched the men disappear. He reached out his hand to the leader, but the leader was gone.
'I'll tell you what you want to know…'
Next time he would tell them all the information.
MMMM
But there was no next time. At least that was what it felt like to Aramis.
He watched the shadow travel across the stones again and again.
The thirst and hunger returned. He grew weaker.
But more than food and water, he wanted the liquid. He wanted whatever they were giving him. He was already prepared to give up the information for it.
Where were they?
All the awful feelings returned. He shivered but felt hot. He sweated but felt cold. He felt nauseous. He retched a few times but he had nothing in him to throw up. His throat was sore from shouting at the men. He called for them. He started to call out with the information in the hopes that they would come.
But they did not.
He lay limply on the stone floor. He stared at the wall opposite. Another day. Another shadow. It reached the third stone.
The echoing noise.
He switched his attention to the door.
The sound of footsteps. But only one set.
He felt pathetic again. They did not have to come en masse any more. He was prepared to do what they wanted.
He wondered if it would be the leader.
Would he bring some of the liquid?
Aramis stretched out his hand.
The padlock was undone. The door was pulled open.
It was not the leader who appeared, framed by the doorway.
It was Athos.
MMMM
Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed the first part. I will start to post part two tomorrow.