A/N: Thank you beeblegirl, Musketball1, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing the last episode! Musketball1: Haha, that would have saved them all some future grief. ;)
Chapter 1
Athos stood against the balcony railing outside his office, watching the Musketeer cadets get put through their paces, much like Treville used to do with the lot of them. Now it was d'Artagnan schooling the young, bright-eyed recruits with the patience and mastery of an experienced soldier.
A large shadow swept over the yard, pausing the exercises. Athos pushed away from the balcony and descended the steps, curious by Zhar's arrival. Communication from the Musketeer regiment had been relegated to the more traditional, albeit slower, method of human courier after Athos and the others had left the front to return to Paris. Ayelet was no longer available to carry messages and the other Musketeer dragons couldn't be spared. Which made Zhar's presence sans rider something to take note of.
The cadets scampered out of the way of the unfamiliar dragon, while Savron trilled out a note of greeting and perhaps a query from across the yard. Athos strode toward Zhar, coming to a stop directly in front of him. He was wearing the courier necklace Ayelet used to carry, a piece of parchment sticking up out of one of the pouches.
Waiting for tacit permission, Athos reached out to retrieve the missive.
"What is it?" d'Artagnan asked as he, Porthos, and Aramis came over as well.
Athos read the contents of the letter, brow furrowing. "It's from Etienne. He says the Spanish have been engaging in blitz attacks, targeting the dragons with an alchemical compound they've never seen before." His mouth turned down. "He says it's crippling the regiment and is requesting assistance from an alchemist."
"Dragons have died?" Aramis asked in alarm.
"Not that he says specifically," Athos replied. Still, the information was disconcerting. He folded the letter back up. "I'll obtain the services of an alchemist and head out there myself."
"We can all go," Porthos put in.
Athos shook his head. "You will remain here and continue carrying out guard duty at the palace."
"You shouldn't go alone," d'Artagnan said.
All three of them gave Athos pointed looks until he huffed and relented. "Fine, d'Artagnan will accompany me." He turned to Zhar. "I will write a reply for you to take back ahead of us."
"I'll get Ayelet and Savron saddled," d'Artagnan volunteered.
Athos nodded and headed up to his office where he dropped Etienne's letter on his desk, then grabbed a blank sheet of parchment to pen a quick reply promising help soon. Once it was written and sealed, he quickly packed his saddlebag for the journey; there was no telling how long this would take. Then he made his way back down to the yard and tucked the letter into Zhar's collar. With a dismissive pat to his neck, the dragon backed up and launched into the sky to fly south. Athos crossed the yard to where his own dragon was waiting and secured his bag over the saddle.
"Where are we going to find an alchemist?" d'Artagnan asked as he mounted up on Ayelet.
"There's a man by the name of Brochard with a laboratory in Clermont. He has a standing contract with the Crown to supply France's armies with alchemical ammunition." Clermont was north of Paris, but by dragon flight, they should still make it to the Musketeer encampment by nightfall.
Athos swung up onto Savron, and the two dragons leaped into the air, heading north. It was only a short detour to Clermont, less than half an hour to touch down in the fields outside the alchemist's workshop. There were several workers about who halted at the unexpected arrivals.
Athos and d'Artagnan dismounted and headed for the cobblestone building.
"We need to speak with Monsieur Brochard," Athos said loudly. "It's official state business."
A young page darted through the open door into the workshop, and a few minutes later a wiry man with spectacles and wearing an apron emerged.
"Musketeers? If you're here about the monthly shipment, that was sent out two days ago."
"We're not. We've received a report that the Spanish may be using a new formula of some kind against dragons. We're going to need you to accompany us to the regiment's camp to look into it," Athos explained.
Brochard's mouth moved incredulously. "But…I can't leave my workshop. There's much work to be done, supplies to make!"
"I assume that's what all these employees are for," d'Artagnan put in.
"Well…but I'm the master alchemist. Some formulas require the utmost precision."
"And your expertise is needed on the front," Athos said. "If the Spanish have, indeed, created a new formula, wouldn't you want to discover what it is?"
Brochard pursed his mouth. "Well, yes." He looked around hesitantly. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
"Not unless you want the King to search for another alchemist for his business," Athos said casually.
Brochard glowered at him. "Fine. I will pack my instruments and be with you shortly."
He stormed back into his workshop in a huff.
"Can't really blame him," d'Artagnan commented. "No one in their right mind would want to go to the front."
"Nevertheless, we are in need of his skills," Athos replied.
They walked back to their dragons and waited close to half an hour for Brochard to finally re-emerge, lugging a huge trunk with him.
"You can't be serious," d'Artagnan said incredulously.
Brochard grunted as he gently set the chest down. "You want my expertise identifying an unknown alchemical compound; these are the tools I need."
D'Artagnan shot a dubious look at Athos—which dragon was going to carry that thing?
Athos looked to Savron and gave him a regretful grimace. This could slow them down a bit.
"Do you have any rope and weights around?" he asked the alchemist.
Brochard frowned. "Sure."
"We can rig something up for Savron and Ayelet to carry the trunk between them."
This was also going to delay them further, but they didn't have much choice.
Athos called over some of Brochard's workers and told them what he needed. They managed to dig up some strong rope lines and some old wagon axles. Athos and d'Artagnan then secured one end of each rope to the trunk and the other ends to the axles, which the dragons would be able to grip firmly in their claws.
"Be very careful with that," Brochard hemmed.
"It'll be fine," d'Artagnan assured him. He threw a covert look at Athos that belied that confidence.
"Let's go," Athos said. "Monsieur Brochard, you may ride with me."
"Alright," the man said nervously as he approached Savron.
"Never flown before?" d'Artagnan asked.
"I have," he said defensively. "Once or twice. I just prefer the ground."
"Unfortunately, we do not have the time to travel by cart," Athos said, reaching down to offer him a hand up.
Once Brochard was seated behind him, Athos secured the extra anchor line to his belt.
"Hold on," he said.
Savron spread his wings and gave a massive thwack to lift into the air. Ayelet followed close behind, the ropes securing the trunk snapping taut and raising it off the ground. No doubt they made for an odd sight flying above the countryside, a chest hanging between the two dragons. With the extra weight, their speed was slightly hampered, plus they had to take a few breaks on their journey. Brochard fussed every time they had to set the trunk down, but each time he checked his instruments, they were still in one piece.
"How close to any active battlefields will we be?" he asked nervously the closer they got.
"It's the front," Athos replied vaguely. "But we will be surrounded by musketeers and their dragons; the most heavily defended camp there is."
It was just after dusk by the time they reached the area of their destination, which made pinpointing the Musketeer encampment more difficult. But Savron belted out a trumpet call and received a response. A moment later, Athos caught sight of Zhar flying up to meet them. The dragon then turned sharply and guided them down to where a cluster of torchlight marked a camp. The dragons landed just on the outskirts of it.
"Athos!" Etienne came over to greet them, looking surprised and relieved. "I didn't expect you this soon."
Athos swung down from Savron. "Your letter seemed most urgent. This is Monsieur Brochard, an alchemist."
Etienne nodded to him. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We don't know what to do."
"Your letter didn't say what happened to the dragons," d'Artagnan said.
"We think it must be some kind of poison. Those who got doused with the compound in the attacks are sick and not getting better. Come, I'll show you."
"Bring my trunk," Brochard instructed.
Athos and d'Artagnan untied the chest from the ropes and carried it around the edge of the camp to where five dragons were bedded down in some grass. In the light of the braziers, Athos could see they weren't asleep, but half-lidded and shifting restlessly.
"They won't eat and barely get any water down," Etienne went on.
"This compound you say they were doused with, do you have any samples?" Brochard asked.
"Yes, I'll get it." He turned and hurried away.
Athos and d'Artagnan set Brochard's trunk down as the alchemist went to examine one of the dragons. Athos noted the cloudy eyes and milky white substance around the nose and mouth.
Etienne returned and held out a carefully wadded up handkerchief. "We were able to collect some residue. It hasn't affected any of the men."
"Hm." Brochard still took it carefully and folded the cloth back to reveal a light green powder. He then turned and knelt to open his trunk.
"Are you sure this isn't some kind of disease?" Athos asked Etienne.
"Only the ones who took direct hits from the powder in the attack are like this," he replied.
"I would concur poison," Brochard said as he set up a miniature distiller right there inside the trunk, which had hooks and tubes apparently built into the casing. "Would someone bring me a candle?"
Etienne waved to another musketeer to retrieve the requested item.
Brochard poured some of the green powder into a beaker, then added some drops from various vials. When he was handed a candle, he set the flame beneath the glass and swirled the contents around, then connected it to the distiller.
"Already I can tell you I don't recognize the formula," he said. "So I don't have a cure on hand."
"But can you derive one?" Athos asked.
"I can try, but it will take some time."
"Understood."
The musketeers moved away to give the man room to work.
"Athos," Etienne said, voice pitched low. "With five dragons out of commission, it's put a strain on the regiment. There's not enough food with the other dragons unable to leave to hunt for themselves."
Athos nodded. "The flight from Paris was long, but Savron and Ayelet can do some hunting in the morning."
Etienne's shoulders drooped in relief. "That would be helpful, thank you."
Athos reached out to clasp his shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up; you're doing the best you can under the circumstances. That's all anyone can do."
Etienne ducked his gaze and nodded mutely.
D'Artagnan clapped him on the back too and smiled. "You heard the captain."
They turned to head into the camp, Athos eager to check on the rest of the men.
.o.0.o.
"I can't believe we have to stand on parade while the regiment is in trouble," Porthos groused as he and Aramis were getting ready to head to the palace that morning. "I hate not knowin' what's going on out there."
"Athos and d'Artagnan would have only arrived late last night at the earliest, maybe not even until this morning," Aramis replied. "So there wouldn't be much to know yet."
"You know what I mean."
"I do," Aramis consoled. "But I'm sure Athos and d'Artagnan can handle it."
"Porthos?" one of the cadets called as he jogged over to them. "There's a woman at the gate to see you."
"A woman?" he repeated, sharing an intrigued look with Aramis.
They headed over, and Porthos was surprised to see Clara standing under the archway.
"Hey," he greeted lamely. "What are you doing here?" He hadn't really expected to see her again after they'd parted ways in the mountains, her and her clan of dragons setting off to find a new place to live in seclusion and freedom.
Clara looked him in the eyes. "You said if I ever needed anything, I could come. Do you stand by that?" she asked directly.
Porthos blinked, taken aback. "Of course," he immediately replied and gestured for her to come inside the garrison. "What's wrong?"
Clara flexed her fingers nervously. "Two of my dragons are missing. I believe they were taken."
"Taken?" he repeated.
"I thought you gave your dragons freedom," Aramis put in carefully. "Perhaps they decided to leave?"
She lifted her chin. "If it was just the young one, I would believe that. But he was out with Nurim, one of the older dragons who was working with Sven on his anxiety and social issues, and he is missing too. Plus, I found traces of a pink powder on the ledge they liked to go, not natural." Her mouth pressed into a worried line. "Perhaps those men from before found us again."
"No," Porthos said. "Boudier's in prison."
"Then someone else is behind it," she declared staunchly. Jaw ticking, she met Porthos's gaze again. "I'm asking for your help."
He hesitated. He did want to help her, but with Athos and d'Artagnan away, he had his duty here…
"It's alright," Aramis said. "You go. I can watch over the royal family."
Porthos shifted awkwardly. "You sure?"
"I'm sure. Rhaego and I can handle things."
Porthos exhaled and gave Aramis a grateful nod. He then whistled for Vrita, who lumbered over at his call. She was already saddled for guard duty.
"Change of plans," he told her.
Vrita cocked her head in curiosity at Clara.
"You remember Vrita?" Porthos said by way of reintroduction.
Clara nodded. "Thank you."
Porthos climbed up first, then Clara behind him. "Uh, here," he said, awkwardly holding out an anchor line.
She merely arched a brow at him. Porthos's cheeks warmed as he remembered she didn't ride with a saddle in the first place. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight.
"Alright, then, let's go."
Vrita gave a mighty thwack of her wings and they lifted off.