Well, it might not be the storm of the century here in the northeast of the US, but it's stormy enough to release the end of my story, so hope you enjoy it.
Thanks to all who commented- they are greatly appreciated!
Of course Athos, Porthos, and Aramis led the charge in the furious trek down south to Melun. But first, Athos insisted they take a quick detour to the Bonacieux residence, on the outside chance that D'Artagnan, exhausted beyond measure, may still be taking a rest there, back from the forest.
No such luck- neither Constance nor Jacques had seen the boy. Constance had considered stopping by the Garrison in the morning to enquire as to why her boarder had not returned the previous evening but the weather being as bad as it was, she had deferred her trip.
Athos deflected the conversation away from admitting the boy was in danger, instead simply alluding to a safe solo mission and avoiding the location of said mission. If he had to return to Paris and convey bad news to Constance, in effect admitting he had lied to her, well, add it to his ever lengthening list of crimes to which he was now guilty.
It was late in the day when they arrived in Melun. The three men could not believe their eyes.
It was as if the town got hit by a hurricane of biblical proportions, and in truth, that is what occurred. Buildings were razed to the ground. There was occasional screaming- still. Since hours had passed since the storm had let up, that could only mean that survivors had been tended to, but others were still trapped in the refuse, desperately needing assistance.
Athos' plan of a fast escape to look for D'Artagnan evaporated almost instantly. He was needed here. They all were.
As if reading his brother's mind, Aramis said, "Go. Look for D'Artagnan. Porthos and I can help out here. It doesn't look as bad as it probably was earlier today."
Aramis knew that Athos, the noblest man he's ever met, would need some sort of approval to depart. He pressed the issue before Athos reluctantly agreed. It would still take some time to get to the forest.
He was off.
If Melun was a shock, then the Fontainebleau forest literally made his breath hitch.
It seemed as if every tree was strewn to the far winds, down by a storm so devastating it flattened everything in its path. Only a few sections of the forest seemed upright, but not one inch seemed intact. Debris was strewn everywhere, probably flung from a large distance based on the storm's intensity.
Nothing could have survived this. No person could have survived this.
When he saw the devastation, he could not help but think of D'Artagnan's fate, trapped in the midst of it. Was he afraid? Was he torn apart, his body strewn to the far corners of the earth, never to be found?
What had he done? Yesterday, D'Artagnan's playful manner had placed him in a similar mood, and he found himself proud of the prank he had pulled on the boy. But did it sign his death warrant?
And what would be worse- finding his broken, lifeless body, or never finding him at all?
Athos owed it to the boy to cover as much ground as possible to find his…crestfallen, he meandered through the devastated forest, in an unlikely rescue attempt.
If he found the boy's body, he owed it to him to bring him home. If he was injured…
Words could not describe the feeling he had once he realized that his hope of the boy only having a serious injury- versus having been killed- engulfed his thoughts.
'D'Artagnan!" He began yelling. "D'ARTAGNAN! D'ARTAGNAN!'
Over and over again. Hoping for a response.
Nothing.
After two long hours, Athos headed back to Melun. Alone and devastated.
It was during the overnight when Athos returned to Melun. The town was gratefully silent of the screams of the survivors, either rescued or still trapped.
Knowing his brothers all too well, he gravitated towards the area where most of the activity was still occurring.
There he met Porthos and Aramis; they were taking a break, eating and drinking food and drink offered from a grateful citizenry. He wished he had better news about D'Artagnan- no news seemed the worst news of all.
Aramis, as expected, had spent the day acting as a medic to the unfortunate injured, and, in some cases, delivering last rites to the less fortunate.
Porthos and Aramis smiled at their brother's return.
Once I tell them how I came up empty-handed, they will no longer be smiling. Athos felt he was rendered mute- he found himself unable to admit his failure, when suddenly a voice of a woman to his left yelled, "D'Artagnan! Can you come here? I need help!"
Athos turned his head, only to see D'Artagnan race over to the woman who had yelled for him.
"I think they found another live one underneath some rubble! Can you come quickly?!"
Aramis and Porthos also jumped up to help. Athos, unbelieving, also gave chase.
They arrived at the wreckage of another building and the woman was stammering: "I thought I heard some low moaning and when I got closer I heard it louder!"
D'Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis said not a single word- after doing this all day, they knew the drill. Immediately they began clearing the rubble, ably being assisted by some of the townsfolk. Soon after they began, they saw the opening to the home that housed an injured woman.
"She's stuck!" Aramis yelled, and then D'Artagnan was clearing off the debris preventing the woman from escaping. However as she was too weak to remove herself once freed, Porthos swept in and gently picked her up, away from the wreckage. She was battered, but now safe.
The surrounding crowd broke out into applause at another saved soul. Athos' three brothers shot each other satisfied, but tired smiles.
It was D'Artagnan who spoke to Athos first. He walked over and grabbed Athos into a tight hug.
"I can't believe you went back to the forest. When Porthos and Aramis told me-"
Athos interrupted. "So- you were here during the storm?"
D'Artagnan said, matter-of-factly, "No, I was in the forest when the storm hit. Afterwards, I-"
"AFTERWARDS? There was nothing left! How did you survive? Did you SEE that forest afterwards?!"
D'Artagnan beamed a bright, wondrous smile. "I know! Wasn't it amazing! I mean, I've seen storms in Lupiac before, but I never saw anything like that!"
"How did you not get yourself killed?" Athos asked again.
"I found a ridge underneath a copse of trees and lay down in it. From there we saw the entire storm pass over us. It was the most incredible thing I've ever seen."
"We? A- ridge?"
"Sometimes a copse of tree's roots are so strong that they literally pull the ground up and form a ridge. I saw the storm coming long enough to know that I had better take cover."
"And Zad?"
"I had to pull her down and get her in the ridge as well. That was the most difficult part, since as you can imagine, she was terrified. I pulled so hard on the reigns, which I hated to do to her, but it was the only way. She would have been blown away otherwise; everything else was. She barely fit, but once the storm was right over us, she was too petrified to move."
"Too petrified, but you also have her deep trust," Aramis added.
"And after the storm passed, you came through here? And stopped?"
"They needed help, Athos. I simply couldn't leave. It was an emergency. We've literally spent the last day and a half rescuing people and tending to the injured."
Athos simply rubbed his hand over his face. He was still absorbing it all.
One of the town's residents came up to D'Artagnan and asked, "Are you going to introduce us to your friend?," referring to Athos.
"Of course. Marcel, say hello to Athos, of the King's Musketeers. Along with Porthos and Aramis here, he is one of the finest men I've ever met."
"A pleasure. I'll have you know that when this young man arrived yesterday, he joined the fray immediately and his help has been immeasurable. He's a brave, fine, selfless young man."
D'Artagnan blushed. He pointed to Marcel and said, "Now that's the best five livre I've ever spent." Everyone laughed.
Athos simply said, "Yes, we are all extremely proud of him."
"Many of us are displaced now- but for tonight you will stay amongst us and we will- figure it out…" Marcel said, suddenly emotional as the extent of what had occurred was finally sinking in.
Many of the townsfolk had gravitated to these remarkable, brave men, who had helped do everything in their power to lessen the tragedy that the storm had wrought upon them. The town had suffered death, and serious injury.
Without prompting, Aramis stood up and blessed himself.
"Lord, heal those who lay here from their injuries. Strengthen, encourage, and comfort each one of them so that they may know the depth and the magnitude of Your love. Draw each one closer to You as you meet their needs, carry them through this difficult time, and touch gently these lives which You have created, now and forever.
"As for the ones who have departed us from this tragedy, Lord, we need divine strength for their families. Fill their hearts with courage and help them to accept that their dear ones are now with You. Let this knowledge of them joining you in paradise be their source of comfort and strength. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen."
The next day, all of the three Musketeers and D'Artagnan took their leave, on their way back to Paris.
Athos was astonished at what had transpired in the last two days, but the thing that seemed to amaze him more than anything was that there was no recrimination from D'Artagnan about abandoning him. He could have been killed!
Riding their horses back home, Athos said, "D'Artagnan, I apologize for leaving you in the forest. It could have ended badly. So I am truly sorry. Your performance gives new meaning to the term 'superb survival skills'."
D'Artagnan threw his mentor a confused look. "Thank you. But you were only trying to teach me something. No apology needed. But I accept if you wish."
"Oh, D'Artagnan," Porthos moaned. "Poor, pathetic, naïve, silly, stupid, dumb, jackass D'Artagnan. Passin' up an opportunity like that."
Aramis said, 'Yes, he isn't much of an opportunist, is he?"
"What do you mean?" D'Artagnan asked, already smiling.
"Feigning rightful indignation, then insisting for satisfaction, for a favor to be rendered, was so much on the table here," Aramis said.
"Do not listen to them," Athos interjected.
"No, now I'm curious. What should I ask for?" D'Artagnan asked, his mischievous side being drawn out by the two bad influences he called his older brothers.
"Makin' you breakfast for a month," Porthos offered.
"Making him end every sentence he addresses to you with 'as I am your faithful servant' for a week," was Aramis' suggestion.
"Hmmm. Making you breakfast for two weeks, and signing over the other two weeks to him making me breakfast," Porthos amended.
"Abandoning him in the wine cellar of the Wren for- oh wait, that would be a favor to Athos."
"Are you quite done?" Athos asked.
"Can I think about it?" D'Artagnan asked.
"No, you cannot think about it. You accepted my apology. You cannot rescind it now."
"But Athos, I could have died! I believe I was too hasty in forgiving you."
"Good thinkin'," Porthos added.
"Athos! I want something!" D'artagnan now proclaimed, grinning broadly as the eight-year-old in him was being drawn out, as usual, by Porthos and Aramis.
Athos managed to swallow down his delight that not only was D'Artagnan safe and sound, he was back to his irrepressible self, annoying him no end. He managed to mask his relief and happiness by saying, "See what you have done now? Once again, you have managed to get the boy to unleash his inner brat. I hope you are very pleased with yourselves."
Aramis and Porthos, in fact, looked extremely pleased with themselves, as that was the whole point. To Porthos, Aramis said, "Then our job is done, my brother."
"Wait! Athos! I know what I want from you now!" D'artagnan announced excitedly.
Athos remained silent, simply shaking his head in bemused annoyance.
"Athos! Can you hear me?" D'Artagnan asked, his horse now trailing just behind Athos'.
"Yes."
"Are you listening?"
"No."
"Athos! ATHOS!"
"Oh my God- damn that ridge," were Athos' last words on the subject.
