Nothing can ever go smoothy for our favorite Musketeers, can it? Thank you again everyone for reading and letting me know how much you're enjoying the series!

Here we go...


Chapter 10

Athos turned suddenly, raised his sword, blocking the sudden blow of Grimaud's blade. The clashing of metal rang throughout the room. A table was knocked over and its contents fell to the floor with a clatter. The book fell open, its pages fluttered, and wine arched and splattered against the bookcase. The port shattered.

Grimaud grabbed a candlestick and swung it toward Athos while thrusting his blade upward. The sides of his cloak billowed behind him, and Athos took a long step backward, angled his blade and blocked the blow, but felt the candle stick strike hard against his left thigh. Athos jumped back, hobbled, and then adjusted his stance. While keeping his blade in his right hand, he grabbed the table leg of the small stand next to Raboin's chair.

Raboin shifted away from the thrusts, held onto his glass of wine, and winced when his shoulder protested to the movement. Athos used the tabletop to deflect the blows while Grimaud charged at him with long, determined strides.

The fire sparked, a log shifted, and flames flickered upward. Hot coals fell from the firedog and landed on the hearth, still red and morphing in color.

"Stop wasting time, you fool!" Raboin shouted and slowly pushed himself from the chair. He stumbled forward, raised his arm to protect himself, and finally rested against the far wall. "You promised me you could do this! The man is half dead already!"

Grimaud exhaled, lunged forward, and then fell to his right. He crashed against the bookshelf and then pushed himself away as Athos' blade struck the wood. Wide-eyed, Grimaud stumbled backward and adjusted his grip on his sword. "I guess you're not all showmanship." He lunged again, pushing Athos backward and causing him to lose his footing.

Athos dropped the table and fell against the wall. The room spun as his vision blurred. He pushed himself upright, leaving a trail of fresh blood along the wall, and then tightened his grip. He ducked when Grimaud grabbed a book and threw it at him. It landed against the wall near the base of a painting and caused it to sway. He grabbed another and threw it.

Raboin shook his head, tossed his wineglass into the fire and listened to the liquid sizzle. He stumbled toward the rack by the door where his weapons belt hung and then turned toward the window when he heard the musket-fire cease. He took a deep breath, grabbed his pistol, and hobbled forward to peer outside. His shoulder hunched, and the wound continued to seep.

General Thorell had turned his attention to the chateau. A regiment of men was now moving forward.

"Kill him, you fool!" Raboin shouted. "We are nearly surrounded!" He watched his men flee from the courtyard. "Spanish fools," he muttered. He fumbled with his pistol, took a seat on the bench below the window, and struggled to load it. His hands shook as he poured gunpowder down the barrel of the flintlock and then tamped it down. He turned suddenly when he heard shouting coming from the yard as the Musketeers and Thorell's military moved in. "Do it now!" He wrapped the ball in a patch, slipped it inside the muzzle, and tamped it down with the ramrod. His hands continued to shake, but he closed his eyes and held onto the pistol.

Grimaud lunged again, knocked Athos backward, and then swung his blade from right to left. Athos ducked, felt the cut of the blade across his left flank, and then fell to the right. Grimaud moved quickly, grabbed Athos by the collar of his blouse and shoved him against the wall. His eyes hardened, his jaw clenched, and blood seeped from the wound across his chin that Athos had delivered days earlier.

"Still disappointed?" Athos asked and gripped Grimaud's cloak and tried to push him back.

Grimaud chuckled, smashed his fist against the left side of Athos' head, and watched him fall to the floor. Athos struggled, raised himself to his elbows and knees, and felt his strength wane. He tried to inhale, but his lungs protested, and he turned in time to see Grimaud bend at the waist and pick up his blade. He raised it, pointed the end toward the ceiling, and smiled. Blood coated his teeth and seeped past his lips. "I'll keep your ring where I can see it… always."

Athos groaned, hitched his breath, and then suddenly reached for his blade. He swung it upward as he twisted and fell onto his right side. It blocked Grimaud's blow, and he fell forward unexpectedly. Athos raised his left leg, stopped him from landing atop him, and then shoved him backward.

Grimaud landed with a humph onto his back. The broken leg of the table punctured his back and perforated his left lung. Blood seeped between his lips and fell down his cheeks into his hair. He looked toward the ceiling with unseeing eyes and opened and closed his mouth as his lungs were denied air. With his elbows at his sides, he raised his hands and they clawed weakly toward his chest.

Overtaxed muscles quivered, but Athos struggled to stand. Sweat soaked hair clung to his scalp and his forehead. Blood continued to seep from the wounds on his arm, his back, and his side. His lungs ached, his throat felt tight, and joints ached for reprieve. While still leaning against the wall, he lowered his blade, pressed his hand against the wall to push himself forward and watched Grimaud breathe his last.

"I should have just killed you myself!" Raboin stood, raised the pistol, and fired.