A/N: Thank you pallysAramisRios, Musketball1, and SnidgetHex for reviewing!
Chapter 3
Porthos, Clara, and their two dragons had tracked the two missing ones for several miles southeast before they were forced to stop for the night. Clara hadn't brought any provisions, and Porthos had only a few scraps of food tucked into his saddlebags since he'd been planning on guard duty that day, not an overnight excursion. Fortunately, they had two capable predators in their company, so while the humans set about making camp, the dragons went off to hunt.
Porthos gathered some kindling and started a fire with the flint he'd taken to carrying on his person since the start of the war. D'Artagnan used to tease him for being without one, saying the musketeers relied too heavily on their dragons to make fire. Porthos had scoffed at him, but after being on the front for a winter when the dragons weren't necessarily always by their side, he'd relented and gotten one to keep on hand.
With the low flames now crackling through the kindling, Porthos got up to gather more wood for the night. Clara already had an armful, which she deposited next to the campfire.
"So," Porthos said, "where are you from?"
"Zambia," she replied.
"Is that Africa?" he asked, grimacing at his ignorance.
"Yes."
She didn't seem keen on saying anything else.
"My mother was from Africa," he went on, trying to fill the silence with conversation. "I don't know where. She came to France as a slave but was then freed."
"She was fortunate."
"Not really. She ended up in the slums of Paris, died of sickness when I was just a little thing. But she taught me to be strong before she died, and I was determined to make somethin' of myself. So as soon as I was old enough, I joined the infantry, learned soldierin'. Was pretty good at it," he added with a grin. "Became a musketeer and then a dragon rider."
Clara sat on the ground in front of the fire. "My father was a respected shaman and dragon speaker in our homeland. But then we were captured and brought to Portugal as slaves. Our master was cruel and my father was worked to death in the fields."
Porthos dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry."
"The plantation had a dragon," she went on after a moment. "It was worked in the fields too, turning soil for planting. One day it was so hot and there wasn't enough water. I couldn't keep up. The dragon gave me shade under his wing, shielded me from the sun and the eyes of our master. We struck up a friendship after that." Her gaze turned distant, dark, as she stared into the crackling flames. "A few years later, it was the dragon who collapsed from heat stroke and being overworked. The owner beat him with an acimite whip."
Porthos's jaw tightened with righteous anger, even though the incident was far in the past.
"That night, the dragon broke free and burned the plantation to the ground," Clara went on. "He came for me, though, amidst the flames and screams. He picked me up and carried me away from that life." Her expression pinched. "That dragon was Nurim."
Porthos frowned. That was the name of the older dragon that had gone missing, he recalled. They had stuck together all this time. No wonder she was worried about him.
"So that's why you rescue dragons," he said. "Because one rescued you."
Her eyes sharpened as she looked up. "Slavery is wrong."
Porthos nodded. A man was born free and no one had the right to make a slave of him. He supposed that went for dragons too. Or, at least, it should.
The ensuing silence was interrupted by Vrita and Issa returning with some game for their supper. Porthos watched Clara get up and go over to cut off a leg for the humans to roast over the fire while the dragons dug into the bulk of the catch.
He and Clara didn't strike up any more conversation after that.
.o.0.o.
Aramis stood just outside the door of the Queen's apartments as Anne and Louis stood over the Dauphin's crib, looking anxious. The infant had not shown any signs of improvement overnight, and in fact seemed to be getting weaker.
"I'm afraid the next course of treatment is leeches," the doctor was saying.
Aramis's face soured at the notion, which he found barbaric even for fully grown adults. But for a baby? The child barely had any blood to spare as it was.
"You assured me the medicine would work!" Louis shrilled.
The physician ducked his head contritely. "One can never make guarantees, of course…"
"So the leeches might not help him," Anne said, voice breaking.
"They are the best course at this point and they are a proven treatment for such ailments."
"That's what you said about the medicine!" Louis spun away, distraught.
Anne reached up to put a hand over her mouth. The baby's governess moved in to try to offer comfort.
"We can start small, three leeches," the doctor compromised. He walked over to his satchel of instruments and lifted out a jar with the viscous creatures.
The King and Queen drifted over to look, both of them cringing at the disgusting things.
"He's just a baby," Anne protested.
While they continued arguing with the doctor, Aramis wandered over to the crib. The infant was listless and lethargic, not moving at all, skin pale and lips tinged slightly blue. The cough he'd had the day prior was gone, but Aramis knew it was only because his tiny body lacked the strength to fight against the congestion in his lungs.
"I must begin right away," the doctor insisted.
"I have another suggestion," Aramis spoke up.
All eyes in the room turned to him incredulously.
"You?" the physician scoffed. "Do you have any training in the field of medicine?"
"Battlefield medicine, but—"
"Then you are hardly qualified in this situation."
"I want to hear him," Anne loudly declared. She came back to the crib, eyes wide and desperate. "What is it you suggest?"
Aramis hesitated, knowing it wasn't his place to speak out like this but also knowing the child was in dire need and leeches weren't going to help him. "Take him to the laundry rooms. The steam will help break up the congestion in his lungs."
"The laundry rooms," Louis spluttered indignantly. "That's absurd."
"It's a treatment often used by the common people," Aramis said. "And it is safer than leeches."
The doctor rolled his eyes in obvious disagreement.
"My son is not common people," Louis said disdainfully.
"I want to try it," Anne said firmly. "If it doesn't work…" She swallowed hard. "Then Doctor Delacroix can proceed with the leeches." She gestured for the governess to pick up the Dauphin.
Aramis nodded and quickly took the lead as they exited the room.
"This is ridiculous," Louis's voice echoed behind them, but he didn't order them to stop, so Aramis kept going.
He escorted the governess down to the laundry rooms. They received odd looks, and then the servants began scuttling away, and Aramis realized the Queen had followed them down as well. Anne looked on worriedly but with open trust as Aramis took the child from his governess and then went to sit by the edge of one of the washing pools. The air was heavy and warm with the steam that hung like mist throughout every inch of the place.
Aramis propped the baby up in his arms and began to massage his chest. After several minutes, the child began to cough. Anne took an alarmed step forward, hands clasped together in fright.
"It's all right," he told her. "It's a good sign. The steam is loosening the congestion."
Aramis continued to gently rub the baby's sternum. He started to hum a lullaby in time with the rhythmic movements, then switched to actually singing the words.
Anne came over and took a seat on the edge of the pool next to him. The steam had caused her carefully coiffed hair to come loose, frizzy strands trailing wildly in the humidity. She had to be as uncomfortable as him in their layered clothing, but she didn't look put out by it. The worry from her expression finally began to melt away, replaced with a soft look as she watched Aramis sing to her son.
"I have not heard that lullaby in a long time," she said wistfully when he trailed off with the last note.
He smiled. "My mother used to sing that to me."
"She was Spanish?" Anne asked in surprise.
Aramis nodded. "She came to France when she was young, looking for opportunities as all young women do." He dropped his gaze sadly at the truth of the life she'd ended up with. "She taught me many things of her home country, though."
"That is how you speak it so fluently."
He canted his head in confirmation. The Dauphin coughed again, then began to kick in discomfort.
"There you are," Aramis said with a relieved smile. He shifted the child so he could lightly tap his back, helping him cough up some of the gunk that had been suppressing his lungs. He began to wail after that.
Anne looked astonished. "It worked."
Aramis passed her child over to her. "Half an hour in here a few times a day should do wonders for that congestion. And I believe that will give him the fighting chance he needs to overcome the rest."
Anne nodded. "Thank you."
Aramis stood and offered his hand to help her to her feet. They looked rather rumpled as they exited the laundry rooms, but they were both smiling.
.o.0.o.
Athos, d'Artagnan, Etienne, and Geoffrey—the only dragon riders whose dragons hadn't been compromised by the alchemical attacks—stood around a map of the area marked with the current troop movements as of the latest intelligence. Astra and Huron had managed to track the Spanish dragon that had attacked them back to its base camp, which was located over ten lieue east of the Musketeer encampment.
"It'll take too long to mobilize the regiment," Athos said. "Besides, our goal is capture, not a full engagement of forces."
"Sneaking into an enemy camp and capturing a captain won't be easy," Etienne pointed out.
"No, but with the dragons, we'll have a quick escape. Astra and Huron confirmed the Spanish camp only has the one dragon. D'Artagnan and Ayelet will draw it away. We'll need some kind of distraction on the ground, and then the three of us will sneak in, grab the captain, and rendezvous with our dragons here." Athos pointed to a spot on the topographical map. "From there we'll fly north and meet up here where we can proceed to get the answers we need."
"We don't have any acimite rounds at the moment," Etienne said. "What will d'Artagnan do about the dragon?"
D'Artagnan had a fist tucked under his chin in thought. "Brochard still has some of that tranquilizing powder. Ayelet and I can draw the dragon out of the camp, and then I'll hit it with the sedative so it goes down close enough to draw the soldiers to the scene."
"How will you deliver the powder?" Geoffrey asked.
"Slingshot."
Athos nodded in approval. "We should have a backup plan, just in case."
D'Artagnan shot him a dry look. "Athos."
"One of the other dragons could make a show of attacking the camp," Etienne suggested. "Just enough to create some chaos while we sneak in."
"Very well." Athos straightened. "Let's go."
They exited the command tent and made their way to where their dragons were gathered. They'd already been saddled in preparation for the mission. The men staying behind wished them luck as they mounted up and took off.
Astra and Huron led the way toward the Spanish camp, knowing where it was safe to land without being seen. From there, they split up—Athos, Etienne, and Geoffrey venturing toward the camp on foot while d'Artagnan waited to give them time to get into position.
The captain's tent wasn't hard to spot with its colors waving from the poles. Athos could see the Spanish dragon prowling about the camp and taking pleasure in making some of the men flinch. The musketeers waited, careful not to make any sounds.
Finally they caught sight of Ayelet rising into the air, d'Artagnan on her back. She shrieked something, and the Spanish dragon whipped his gaze toward her with a snarl. He launched into the air immediately to give chase. Ayelet didn't turn tail and flee, though, and Athos tensed as he watched and waited. They were too far away to see d'Artagnan make the shot with the slingshot or see the splash of blue powder against the blue sky backdrop, but the Spanish dragon suddenly jerked and screeched, and then it fell toward the ground.
Shouts went up through the camp as soldiers leaped to their feet and ran that direction. Ayelet turned and retreated.
Athos stood up from the brush and darted into the camp, Etienne and Geoffrey on his heels. They came around the back of the captain's tent, trying to stay out of sight. But everyone's attention was on the commotion toward the opposite side of camp.
The tent flap thwacked open as a man in captain's stripes stepped out, shouting something in Spanish. Athos surged forward and grabbed him, slapping a gloved hand over his mouth. The man yelped and struggled as the musketeers dragged him backward into the chaparral. Etienne drew his pistol and pointed it in the man's face to force his cooperation. He continued to struggle half-heartedly on principle, but they managed to haul him all the way back to where their dragons were waiting.
His eyes widened with understanding and he started to thrash again in earnest as Geoffrey grabbed some rope to bind his hands with. Athos removed his hand and Etienne stepped in to quickly gag their prisoner before he could scream loud enough to draw the attention of his men. Then Athos shoved him toward Savron, who picked the man up in his talons and took wing. Athos swung up behind Etienne on Astra to save time.
They flew north as planned, Ayelet and d'Artagnan gliding in to join them halfway. There were no troops within miles of the place they chose to land, Savron dropping his cargo with an unceremonious thump. The rest of the musketeers dismounted and strode over to circle their captive.
"Do you speak French?" Athos asked as he yanked the gag out.
The man glowered at them and spat something in Spanish.
"Unflattering, I'm sure," Athos replied blandly. "Let's make this quick. Cut off his thumb so we can bring it to the general."
D'Artagnan started toward him. The Spanish captain reeled back, eyes blowing wide. D'Artagnan drew to a stop and smirked.
"I see you understand French after all," Athos remarked. "Where are you getting the new alchemical compounds you've been attacking the Musketeer garrison with?"
The man sneered. "I will not tell you," he said in heavily accented French.
Athos flicked a look at the others. "We'll see about that."