December Desolation Chapter 35

The muffled banging of gunshots filtered through the earth above his head, just barely reaching him enough to register that it was indeed the rapport of pistols that he was hearing. It was a sound that he would recognise above all else, even if he were to forget his own name, the smell of freshly burning gunpowder, the click of a weapon being cocked and the bang of discharge, that he would never forget. His fingers itched to curl themselves around the pommel of his own specially designed pistol or his harquebus, it was always as if a part of himself was missing when he was separated from his weapons including his rapier.

Silence fell once again in the courtyard above his head, leaving him to ponder on what all the excitement was about, he hoped they hadn't been wasting gunpowder shooting at rabbits. Then all of a sudden a roar of outrage that sounded disturbingly like Athos when D'artagnan pissed him off, which thinking about it now happened with alarming regularity, at least once a day. No actually, it had the panicked tone that he usually associated with some reckless act that he himself had perpetrated, in fact it was frankly quite similar to Treville's shout when he threw himself on that bomb.

Wait, Athos. That was definitely Athos. Oh those fools, they had come to rescue him and unwittingly, or deliberately played right into their enemies hands in order to do so regardless of the possible repercussions. The thought of the harm that could come to his brothers now that they had thrown themselves into the fray here, was enough to motivate his aching limbs into motion and kick start his brain.

Aramis pushed himself to his hands and knees, arms shaking violently with fatigue. His hand slipped from beneath him, elbow slamming painfully into the concrete and he swore vehemently at the burning pain it elicited but at least he avoided injuring his face. Goodness knows if he were to hit his head once more it could spell disaster, he had tried his best to curl into himself and protect his head when blows had been raining down upon him but he had been unsuccessful. He was familiar with the symptoms of a concussion and the blurry vision and pounding headache were clear signs, but he battled through the dizziness that threatened to floor him as the world swayed and black spots swam in his vision to finally find his feet.

He winced as he placed his feet flat on the floor, soles protesting the abuse they had suffered and muscles burning at supporting his admittedly small body weight. In the end he made it to the doorway, pausing and straining his ears for any sign of a skirmish upstairs.

Slowly he reached out and grasped the door handle, tentatively pushing the door open and branding himself a fool when it swung open easily, unlocked and unguarded. On the other hand he thanked his guards' lackadaisical attitude towards security which allowed him to walk out, his brothers and he would have taken it in shifts even if their prisoner was in no fit state for daring escape attempts.

Looking at the stairs before him felt like facing eternal suffering or at least the prospect of a full days march on an empty stomach or worse. Painfully he began to drag his broken body up the concrete incline, keeping his attention focussed on the noises he was hearing upstairs, mainly for any sign of his brother's welfare.

Gabriel nervously crept up to the imposing oak door and tapped timidly before waiting anxiously for a response. He nervously shifted from foot to foot as time stretched on with no answer, a quick glance to the men in the trees revealed they were as bemused as he was.

"Why aren't they answering?" D'artagnan whispered impatiently, glaring at the door as if the force of his gaze would make it spontaneously combust.

"If you had just seen Musketeers crossing your land, were holding one of their comrades prisoner and then got a knock at the door you weren't expecting, would you answer?" Athos' tone was distinctly sardonic as he raised an eyebrow at the Gascon and gestured to Gabriel to knock again.

Gabriel nodded and taking a deep breath, hammered against the wood. He then leapt back as fast as his legs would allow, clasping his hands behind his back as the door was flung open, smashing off the wall with a deafening crash.

"What do you want?" a burly man sneered down his nose at the boy.

"Message for the master sir" he chirped cheerily.

"Go, go, go" Athos whispered, crouching low and running across the open space, rapier in hand and jaw set in determination. The others followed, occasional glances sent towards the doorway to check the occupants were still engaged in conversation.

"Now what?" Porthos asked as they crowded around the back door, chests heaving with adrenaline.

"Now, we enter"

Pushing open the door, they held their breath as they waited for it to creak loudly. Thankfully it swung open relatively silently, and they managed to creep in undetected.

The manor looked unlived in, almost derelict to the untrained eye. The corridors were teeming with cobwebs, dust rising in clouds with every step they took on its carpeted floor and the lanterns on the wall were more broken than not. To the three men traipsing the halls, it was a veritable goldmine of information. There was a clearly visible trail of footprints in the layers of dirt on the floor and the working lanterns signified were the occupants were using, one trail split off from the others and this was the one they chose, figuring the path less taken would lead them to their brother.

They had barely taken a few steps when Aramis came stumbling around the corner, arm outstretched and fingers trailing against the wall to steady himself. He looked once again like death warmed over and it scared them to death that he looked so terrible.

"Aramis!" Porthos cried, rushing over and wrapping Aramis up in his arms before he collapsed.

"Stop right there!"

Spinning around the men were faced by the entire population of the manor house holding them at gunpoint.