A/N: Thank you beeblegirl, pallysAramisRios, and SnidgetHex for reviewing the last episode!
Chapter 1
The four musketeers gathered in Athos's office after he'd summoned them together. Athos always looked somber, but today there was an extra weight of grim gravity about him. Aramis wondered what dire news he had this time.
Athos moved to stand behind his desk to face them, drawing his shoulders back. "We're going after Milady," he declared.
The rest of them exchanged careful looks at that. Of course Milady was a serious threat that had been hounding them for far too long, but it wasn't like they'd had any luck tracking her down previously.
"What about Rochefort?" Porthos asked. "He's a Spanish spy."
"Who currently has the King's complete trust," Athos countered. "We need proof. But as of now, the King has banned us from the palace and given strict orders that we are not to return until the witch's threat is neutralized."
D'Artagnan's brows shot upward and he scowled. "Isn't that supposed to be Rochefort's job?"
"Now it's ours," Athos replied, then added more quietly, "It was mine from the beginning."
Aramis straightened. "I hope you're not planning on taking this on alone."
"No, but I don't want to risk anyone else. Milady has singled the four of us out; we will handle her."
He opened the lid of a chest that was sitting on his desk and started pulling out compasses with multiple needles to give to each of them.
"Witch trackers?" Porthos said, taking his.
Athos nodded. "I acquired our own, since Rochefort has proven less than helpful."
The four of them stepped closer together and held their trackers out next to each other. The needles all swiveled to start pointing in the same direction.
"Well," Aramis said, "it looks like we have somewhere to start."
With sober looks of agreement, they headed out to retrieve their dragons, then took to the skies. Aramis's tracker continued to align its many needles as they soared out past the city. The others' must have been doing the same because they all continued to fly in the same direction. Until all of a sudden the compass's needles started spinning wildly.
Aramis looked over at the others and saw Athos signaling for them to land at the edge of some woodland.
"Mine's stopped workin'," Porthos said once they'd touched down.
"Same," d'Artagnan said, holding his up as evidence. Ayelet craned her neck around to give the compass a sniff.
"Milady has used spells to ward off trackers before," Aramis commented. "We must be getting close if we've triggered them."
Athos stared at his compass for a long moment, then toward the woods. "We'll have to split up," he declared and slid off Savron's back. "Call if you find something, and be on guard."
The rest of them dismounted as well to make their foray into the forest on foot. Aramis watched with trepidation as his friends moved off into the pale trees and out of sight. Normally, the fact that each of them had a dragon with them meant there was hardly anything to worry about. But dealing with a sorceress as powerful and malicious as Milady was another matter.
He turned to Rhaego and canted his head for them to get going.
The woods were quiet with a false sense of emptiness that didn't come from winter hibernation; most fauna tended to hunker down when a predator as large as a dragon was nearby.
Or perhaps a witch.
Aramis glanced at the tracker in his hand and pulled up short. The needles were aligning again.
"Well, what should we make of that?" he mused aloud.
Rhaego scrunched his nose up.
"Indeed. Either the warding stopped because we're no longer close, or…" Aramis sighed. "She wants us to find her."
He turned slightly to the left, then to the right, trying to see which way had more of the needles aligning. As three more swiveled closer together, he adjusted his heading and cautiously continued further into the forest.
Rhaego made a soft, querying snort.
"Not yet," Aramis replied quietly. He didn't want Rhaego calling out and spooking Milady if she was really out here and they were closing in on her. And maybe the others' trackers had also started working again and they would all converge on her location. Not that Aramis had any illusion that would give them the upper hand.
Dead leaves and twigs crinkled underfoot as musketeer and dragon moved carefully through the woods. There was no sign of a dwelling all the way out here to indicate why Milady was here—if she even was. Aramis wondered whether she could fool the trackers into giving a false reading. But why? To lead them away from Paris? But it was them she wanted.
A snap of a branch sounded through the woods, and Aramis and Rhaego froze. The dragon straightened sharply and sniffed the air. His pupils dilated and he whipped his head up toward the barren tree canopy. Aramis followed his gaze just in time to see a black creature perched in the treetops leap down onto Rhaego's back. Both animals gave a screech as Rhaego twisted around, trying to reach the beast. It was one of those winged demons they'd encountered on the Jura mission.
Aramis scrambled backward as the two creatures went rolling through the mulch in a grappling tangle of gnashing teeth and snapping jaws. He whipped out his pistol by instinct but couldn't get a clear shot. His gun wasn't loaded with acimite, so maybe he could risk firing…but he'd just as likely miss with how rapidly Rhaego and the demon were twisting and rolling. Rhaego screeched and kicked his back claws against the beast gouging its own talons across his hide.
"Rhaego!" Aramis shouted, desperate to help but woefully outmatched.
A puff of cold air brushed against the back of his neck and sent a chill through his veins like the fingers of a ghost plunging through his skin. He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat when he came face to face with Milady.
The corner of her mouth curved upward. "Hello, Aramis."
He jerked his pistol up to shoot, but a blinding flash of light slammed into him like a physical force, and then there was nothing.
.o.0.o.
Porthos smacked the tracker with his palm, then gave it a shake for good measure. "Come on," he groused.
The thing still wasn't working, all its needles spinning haphazardly no matter which direction he turned. He had half a mind to throw it against a tree for all the good it was doing.
"You smell anythin'?" he asked his dragon.
Vrita gave a head shake.
"No wonder Rochefort never got anywhere," he grumbled. "How are we supposed to find one witch in all of France?"
Vrita made a gurgling sound like she had no idea.
Porthos huffed. "If this thing doesn't start working soon, we're heading back. It's freezing out here."
A high-pitched shriek echoed through the woods. Vrita snapped her gaze toward it. Another one followed, this one hair-raising.
Porthos cursed under his breath as he drew his sword and took off toward the source, Vrita lumbering alongside him. The screeches grew louder as they barreled through the forest until Porthos caught sight of a mass of red tumbling back and forth across the ground.
Vrita roared and surged forward, charging through the trees and nearly slamming into Rhaego as she skidded past him and snapped her jaws at the black creature attacking him. Porthos felt a zing of horror as he recognized the type of demon, and he whipped his gaze around for a whole swarm of them about to descend while the two dragons killed the one.
There was no sign of any others, though that didn't mean they couldn't come out of nowhere like they had the last time.
Crashing branches had Porthos whirling around, sword raised, but it was just Athos, d'Artagnan, and their dragons arriving.
"What happened?" d'Artagnan asked breathlessly.
"One of Milady's demons," Porthos said, nodding to the carcass Vrita had tossed several feet away.
She was hovering near Rhaego and gingerly nudging at a myriad of bleeding scratches adorning his scales. The russet dragon flinched away from her poking.
Porthos looked around the woods. "Where's Aramis?"
Athos and d'Artagnan also turned in full circles, scanning the area. There was no sign of the marksman.
Porthos spun toward Rhaego. "Where's Aramis?" he asked urgently.
The dragon let out a low mewl and ducked his head.
Porthos grimaced; right, Rhaego had had his talons full with that demon. But Aramis wouldn't have left his dragon in trouble like that, and they wouldn't have split up…
D'Artagnan moved past Porthos to check the dragon's wounds while Athos started walking around looking for signs of what had happened. The captain stopped at a spot that seemed insignificant, then slowly bent down and picked something up off the ground. Turning around, Athos held up Aramis's hat.
"He was here," Porthos concluded.
Athos's expression, however, was grave. "And it looks like he found Milady."
.o.0.o.
Aramis woke to an aching head and crick in his neck from his chin hanging down against his chest. His arms were also in an uncomfortable position…from being strung up above him. He jerked fully awake at that realization and thrashed on reflex, his back knocking against the cold wall behind him. His gloves cushioned his wrists from the coarse fiber that grated against them in his struggles, which did nothing to loosen the bonds.
He stilled his movements and squinted as his vision gradually cleared, giving him a view of what looked like an abandoned church—a few broken pews were piled in a corner, several of the windows along the opposite wall had broken panes coated in dust and frost, and dead leaves were strewn across a dirty floor.
Movement in his peripheral vision had him snapping his gaze to his left as Milady stalked toward him. He tugged again at his bonds, but they didn't show any sign of giving.
"I'd been hoping you'd be the one to come to my trap," she said. "Or d'Artagnan."
Aramis sucked in a quiet breath and tried to steel himself against the trepidatious fluttering of his heart. "And what torment have you devised this time?" he gritted out.
He had trouble imagining what could be worse than the last one she'd inflicted on him, torturing him with the ghosts of his dead friends lost in Savoy.
But her imagination…given her track record thus far, that was something to be afraid of.
Milady smirked and turned away from him, walking over to the altar where a variety of ingredients were laid out. And not the religious kind.
She began to mix things in a spell bowl, ignoring her captive for the moment. Aramis glanced up at the rigging holding him in place. She'd looped the rope over one of the chandelier hooks in the wall, meaning he had absolutely no leverage for trying to yank it free. He rotated his wrists and attempted to slide his hands out of his gloves, but the ropes were cinched too tightly for that. He'd have to dislocate his thumb to manage it…
But there was no time. Already she'd completed her preparations and was bringing the spell bowl back over to him. Aramis tensed, his heart rate ratcheting up.
Milady stopped directly in front of him and held up one of the white flowers from the Jura. Aramis had no idea what it was for, though he remembered her commenting on their significance in the use of spells before she'd stolen the musketeers' supply.
She dropped it into the bowl and began to recite an incantation in Latin. Aramis understood the words, though they had little meaning to him. But thick black smoke began to rise from the bowl.
His heart was slamming against his ribs now as the smoke swayed and curled. Then its tendrils began to extend toward him. Aramis jerked his head back as they abruptly plunged into his nose and mouth and forced their way down his throat. He choked and sputtered on the cloying brume as it wormed down through his sternum where he could feel it permeating through his body and filling every cavity with its ever thickening fumes. He began to convulse as more and more of it consumed not just his body, but his mind.
Milady's chants grew louder and her eyes turned black.
Aramis heard her voice echo forth from her mouth and inside his head.
"Your soul to take…"