A few minutes before…
Athos was pleased Aramis had not taken much persuasion to allow him to return to his rooms to convalesce. The noises of the garrison, whilst generally welcomed, were not something he wished to endure at that moment. His arm and his hand hurt where the stitches had been put in. The headache would ease over time he knew, but the quiet of his rooms would only speed up his recovery.
D'Artagnan was walking alongside him, close enough to stop him falling if he stumbled. Aramis had not even asked if he wanted help as they walked from the garrison; his friend had not given him a choice. Athos would not admit it, but he was glad of the arm around his waist. The attack had left him feeling weak and somewhat pathetic. Athos would be pleased to reach the comfort of his rooms.
Aramis was not rushing him. They walked at a steady pace. They had all experienced injuries over the years. They had all learned how to deal with them, and more importantly, how to deal with each other.
When injured, Athos preferred little to no fuss. Porthos, on the other hand, liked to get as much attention as could be spared. D'Artagnan tended to be apologetic as if every injury he received was his fault. And Aramis would deny he was even hurt.
The night was chilly, Athos wondered if there would be rain at some point that evening. His musing was cut short by d'Artagnan who was doing some musing of his own.
'I wonder where he went?'
Athos sighed, 'he will probably have ended up at a tavern.'
'He was quite upset,' said Aramis. 'And distracted.'
'Keep an eye on him,' said Athos. 'If he is feeling unnecessarily guilty, he might do something stupid.'
They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Athos concentrated on keeping his steps steady. The chilly air helped to clear his head. He knew he would continue to suffer for some hours to come but the thumping headache he had experienced when he first came around had receded to a dull roar.
Athos hoped Porthos would not dwell on what had happened. They all had things in their past that occasionally affected their present. With luck, the couple of days Treville had given him away from his duties would be enough for him to work it through in his head. Athos knew that he needed time alone occasionally. Although, Porthos was not a man who generally sought solitude.
Athos' thoughts were cut short by a sudden movement behind them. Aramis stumbled forward and crashed to the ground. Athos could not stop himself from being dragged down with his friend. He managed to get his uninjured arm underneath him and prevent too much pain being caused to his injuries.
As he tried to untangle himself from Aramis, who was not moving, he heard a scuffle going on to his right. D'Artagnan was fighting with someone.
'Stop.'
Athos could not prevent himself from being pulled up. An arm was wrapped around his neck. Whoever was holding him was strong. He tried to pull away, but the man only squeezed his arm tighter. With his free hand, the man aimed a gun at Aramis, who was lying sprawled on the ground, unmoving.
D'Artagnan had been grappling with another two men. He stopped what he was doing when he saw the threat being made to both Athos and Aramis. He made eye contact with Athos who shook his head. They were in no position or capability to overpower their attackers at that moment.
'Get them in the carriage,' said the man that was holding Athos.
The two other men nodded. Athos was stunned to realise he recognised them both. One was the tatty man he and Porthos had talked to earlier in the day, and the other was the young man that had shown them the location of the most recent attack victim.
The man that was holding Athos pulled him to his feet. Athos looked down, seeing the black, glass-covered cloak he was wearing swing into view with the movement. The other men were wearing similar cloaks.
The younger man stepped towards Aramis and lay his hand on the still man's back.
'Is he dead?' asked the man holding Athos.
The young man shook his head.
'Kill him,' said the tatty man who was busy wrapping a rope around d'Artagnan's wrists.
The young man reached into his cloak and pulled out a dagger. The action caused d'Artagnan to move forward.
'No,' said the older man, who moved so that he was aiming his gun at d'Artagnan. 'Untie him, he can help you carry him to the carriage.'
'What do you want?' asked d'Artagnan who had wisely stopped struggling now that the immediate threat to Aramis was gone.
None of the men responded. Athos was pulled back a few paces and disarmed by the man holding him. Aramis had his weapons roughly pulled from him before d'Artagnan and the two men pulled him up from the ground. The unconscious man had a few grazes on his cheek where he had been on the ground. Athos could only guess his friend was hit from behind and knocked unconscious.
D'Artagnan was the only one of the three of them in a fit state. Athos hoped if his friend saw an opportunity to run, he would. But the continued threat to both himself and Aramis would probably keep d'Artagnan compliant to the attacker's orders.
Aramis was bundled into the waiting carriage and left sprawled haphazardly on the floor. Athos was pushed up the steps and into the carriage by the man holding him who finally let him go. It took Athos a few seconds to orientate himself. D'Artagnan was pushed in behind him. The door closed. The carriage began to move almost immediately. D'Artagnan tried to open the door, finding it locked or bolted shut. He looked back at Athos shaking his head.
MMMM
Despite their best efforts to escape the carriage, the three Musketeers were still prisoners by the time it reached its destination.
They were forced out of the carriage at gunpoint. They had been driven into a private courtyard of a large house. Many windows overlooked the courtyard. D'Artagnan looked around, seeing no light coming from any of the windows. The place looked deserted. The only light came from a few burning torches in sconces around the courtyard and a couple of braziers near a large door.
D'Artagnan got his first proper look at the man who had been holding Athos as a hostage. The older man, probably in his late fifties, looked strong. He had a weathered face with an evil glint in his eyes. D'Artagnan suspected the man might have been responsible for the attacks the first time around and was now using the younger men to help carry them out again. D'Artagnan wondered if they would be given any answers or if they were to be killed by the men.
The older man hoisted Aramis, who was still unconscious, over his shoulder and led the way into the large house. The younger men indicated for them to follow. The man carrying Aramis entered the house and headed across a large hallway. The house was dimly lit. It did not look lived in. The area they were in was falling out of favour with the wealthy. The place had probably been empty for a while. D'Artagnan doubted the attackers owned the property.
'Search them both,' said the older man as he pulled a plain door open in the corner of the hallway.
The tatty man raised two guns, aimed at them both. D'Artagnan held his hands out to show he had no weapon. They both remained still as they were searched. D'Artagnan was sure he heard Athos sigh with annoyance as the slim dagger hidden in his boot was found. It had been no use to them in the carriage but would have been better than nothing. Their cloaks were taken off them. They were pushed towards the doorway the older man had disappeared through.
'What are you going to do with us?' asked Athos, with an uninterested tone.
The tatty man chuckled, 'wait for the last ship to leave,' he said.
He did not elaborate. D'Artagnan looked at Athos who appeared as confused as he was.
'Because then you can drown, like the rats you are,' continued the younger man.
They were shoved towards the door and forced ahead of the armed men. Athos stumbled a couple of times, the assault he had suffered mere hours earlier, causing him issues. D'Artagnan had to steady Athos a few times.
'If you get a chance to run,' whispered Athos, 'go. Get help for us.'
Reluctantly, d'Artagnan nodded. He hated the idea of leaving his friends, but he was the only one of them capable of making a run for safety.
They found themselves in a large cellar. The older man was leaning over Aramis, who was lying on the floor. The man was going through the injured Musketeer's pockets and pulling off his empty weapons belts.
'What do you want with us?' said Athos.
The man looked up at him, 'it's only you that we wanted,' he said. 'But your young friend there and this one,' he indicated d'Artagnan and Aramis, 'were in the wrong place at the wrong time.'
D'Artagnan scowled at the man, 'what do you want with Athos?'
'You were clever enough to pull Claude's scarf off. You saw his face. He told me you and… what was his name, Porthos, talked to him earlier.'
The man glared at Claude who looked at the ground.
'If that imbecile had done his job when he attacked you earlier… When he was supposed to have killed you… you wouldn't now be about to die with your two friends here.'
Claude took a step forward, 'I told you I wouldn't be able to take on two Musketeers.'
The young man laughed, causing Claude to round on him.
'If you'd not let yourself get kicked by that one that fought back you could have helped-'
The young man unconsciously rubbed at his chest. Athos remembered hearing about one of the victims being knocked unconscious after he fought back against his attacker.
'Enough,' said the older man, 'Claude, Pierre, get your things together. We've only got a couple of hours.'
'What are you going to do?' asked Athos.
'We told you, drown you,' said Pierre with a smirk.
'What good will that do, why not just shoot us?' asked d'Artagnan.
The older man took a step closer, 'it's the way we're going to drown you that's important. We're going to make it look like the elusive Devilman got the three of you. It will sow more fear into the locals and will hopefully make the nosy upper classes stay away.'
Athos shook his head, not understanding, 'don't you want rich people coming through here… so that you can rob them?'
The older man smirked, 'me and the lads here,' he said. 'We're going to catch the Devilman soon. Then we're going to start protecting the locals. And they're going to pay for it.'
'You're tricking them? Making them think something is haunting their streets. Then you're going to save them, and they will be grateful and keep you on as some sort of paid saviour.'
All three men nodded. Claude grinned for a few seconds before being cuffed around the head by the older man and shooed out of the room. Claude cowered a little as he scurried off. The three may have been working together, but there was a distinct pecking order, and Claude was very much at the bottom of it.
They watched as the door was closed and bolted. D'Artagnan walked up to the door and pulled on the handle for a few seconds. He turned back to Athos who had eased himself to his knees by Aramis. Athos was struggling with his assortment of injuries. D'Artagnan realised his friend was probably running out of strength.
'Aramis?'
Athos shook his head.
'I cannot find any other injuries,' replied Athos. 'But he is not showing any signs of waking.'
D'Artagnan sighed. He started to methodically check the cells for any weakness they could exploit or any way they could escape. But with one man unconscious and another injured, the chances were slim for all three of them getting away. Once he had concluded they would not be getting out of the room, he returned to Athos.
'Let me check the dressings on your arm.'
Athos did as he was asked. D'Artagnan was pleased to see that despite the rough treatment, his friend's wounds were not bleeding. None of the stitches had been pulled.
They settled on the floor by Aramis. D'Artagnan watched the steady rise and full of his friend's chest.
'I can't believe we didn't work out there was more than one man working together,' said d'Artagnan. 'It's so obvious, how else could they have been disappearing and reappearing.'
Athos looked up at him, 'with hindsight it is obvious,' he said. 'They were working in tandem. One man attacking with another waiting to perpetuate the growing myth that the Devil Man could appear as he pleased.'
'I wonder if the older man was responsible for the attacks thirty years ago,' said d'Artagnan. 'He's the right age.'
'Quite possibly,' mused Athos who had gone back to watching Aramis.
Footsteps outside the door brought the two men to alertness. Athos indicated to d'Artagnan to wait by the door.
'I will distract them,' said Athos, 'make a run for it.'
D'Artagnan nodded reluctantly, he could see it was their only hope, but he did not like the idea of leaving Athos and Aramis behind.
The door swung open. Pierre stepped into the room. Athos leaned over Aramis, pretending he was checking if their friend was still alive. The move was enough to make Pierre take a couple of steps into the room without looking for the other captive man first. D'Artagnan shoved Pierre further into the room. He was aware of Athos moving towards Pierre.
D'Artagnan took his chance. He charged up the steps leading back to the hallway. The door at the top stood open. He paused at the door for a second. He could hear Athos and Pierre scuffling in the cellar. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds before Pierre got the better of Athos or managed to shout out a warning that one of the captives was escaping.
He moved cautiously out into the hallway. He froze by one of the open doors as he heard a tersely spoken conversation within what would have been one of the large houses' reception rooms.
'But Jacques, you know I'm not as strong as you,' Claude was saying, his voice a whine, 'I can't strangle people.'
The older man responded, 'you're useless, that's what you are. You're lucky I still had the claw weapon.'
There was a pause before Claude spoke again, 'why did you hurt me?'
'Because it needed to look genuine. If you'd gone to talk to them without any marks on your neck, they wouldn't have believed you… And then you went and accused Porthos of having seen the Devilman before. You're the one who's put us in this position. I'm not ready to change our tactic yet… but we need to get rid of them… all four of them…'
D'Artagnan risked looking into the room. The older man, Jacques, was standing with his back to the door. Now that he was not wearing the cloak d'Artagnan could see he was a well-built man. It was no wonder he had been able to overpower some of the fitter victims of the attacks.
Claude was standing by a side table, his finger resting on one of the blades of what must have been the claw weapon. It was, as they had guessed, an adapted glove. Thin blades were attached to the knuckles of the glove. There were joints on the blades, d'Artagnan wondered if they could be locked in place and then bent back when the wearer did not need them as a weapon. The blades were shining in the light of the small fire in the large room.
The glass-covered cloaks were lying over the back of a dusty couch. An assortment of other weapons lay across the couch.
'Just kill them then. You don't need to use the judgement box… One of them's already unconscious; the other one is injured. Shoot them all and be done with it.'
D'Artagnan wondered what the 'judgement box' was. He guessed it was something to do with Jacques' plan to make their Devil creature a greater threat. The three men would then be seen as heroes when they defeated it.
The inevitable yell from the cellar caused the two men to look towards the door. D'Artagnan made a run for the main door. The two men were quicker. As he pulled at the heavy door he was grabbed by the older man. D'Artagnan kicked back, catching the man on the shin. Jacques did not react to the assault. He pulled d'Artagnan around and spun him to the ground. Claude stepped in and kicked him before he could get his feet under him. The air knocked out of him d'Artagnan took longer than he would have liked to orientate himself. When he looked up, he was staring at the dangerous end of a gun being wielded by Pierre.
'Your friend tried very hard to stop me shouting,' said Pierre with a sneer, 'but after his last encounter with us he's not at his best.'
Jacques stepped forward and hauled d'Artagnan to his feet. D'Artagnan tried to shrug the man off but found himself being held firmly. Jacques propelled him towards the open door of the cellar.
'Back to your friends,' he said as he shoved d'Artagnan at the top of the stone steps.
D'Artagnan wildly grabbed at the wooden rail that ran along the wall. He managed to control his fall enough to prevent going headfirst down the steps. He was unable to stop himself from landing hard on the steps. The corner of each step dug into him painfully. He knew he would be bruised from the brief fight and the consequent fall. He wondered if he was now in as bad a state as both his friends.
What little chance of getting away from the three men had diminished with d'Artagnan's re-capture.
MMMM
