A/N: Thank you pallysAramisRios, Enigma TM, SnidgetHex, and 29Pieces for reviewing!

Chapter 3

The garrison was in complete disarray as half clothed men nervously ventured back into the barracks to collect themselves. Most of the rats had vacated the premises but a few were still scurrying around. Athos let the dragons take care of those. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that could be done for the streets outside, which were mostly too narrow for dragons to go hunting rats down. Although…

"D'Artagnan," Athos called.

The young Gascon stopped on his way back to the dragon compound, looking as rousted from bed as the rest of them.

"Ayelet is still pretty lean," Athos said when he reached him. "She could do a sweep of the neighborhood, take care of any rats in the street."

D'Artagnan nodded. "Sure. But…there were so many. You don't want her trying to hunt down all of them, do you?"

Athos grimaced at the too fresh memory of what had to be at least one hundred rodents. "Hopefully they'll find their way out of the city or back underground. Just take out any stragglers you find. I'm sure people have enough to contend with in their homes."

D'Artagnan blanched slightly at that, but he gave a quick nod and headed back to the dragon compound.

Athos turned to survey his own garrison and spotted Pierre and Christophe hurrying through the front gate. They'd been assigned to watch the tavern last night.

"Athos," Christophe said breathlessly. "There was…" His face scrunched up like he didn't know how to explain it.

"I know," Athos said and gestured to a few rat carcasses lying about. "They're sweeping though the city?"

His men nodded.

"Like a sea of vermin," Pierre added. "What could have caused this?"

"Nothin' natural," Porthos answered as he and Aramis walked over to them, properly dressed now. "Never seen anythin' like it in my life, not even in the Court of Miracles, an' we had our share of rats down there."

"Perhaps they felt the presence of dark magic and…responded," Aramis speculated.

Athos didn't think so. This strange occurrence was too similar to the blood at the tavern. "Did anything happen on your watch last night?" he asked Christophe and Pierre.

Christophe shook his head. "It was all quiet there."

"Then perhaps the tavern keeper was not the target after all," Aramis surmised.

"I agree," Athos said. "These incidents seem like they were intended to produce mass panic and fear."

"So we're dealin' wit' someone who has a wicked sense of humor," Porthos commented grimly. "What's next? Beetles in our food?"

Each of them cringed in disgust.

"Thank you for that image, Porthos," Aramis remarked dryly.

"Someone get Rochefort down here," Athos said loudly, and the stableboy quickly darted off. He turned back to Christophe and Pierre. "Get some rest," he ordered. "But…" he grimaced, "do a thorough search of your rooms first."

"I'll help you," Aramis said and went off with them.

Athos and Porthos retrieved some shovels and started helping scoop the rat carcasses into a pile to burn. They had cleared the entire yard by the time Rochefort arrived, and by then Athos's vexation was mounting.

"I take it from this latest attack that you didn't find anything yesterday," Athos said scathingly.

"Unfortunately, no," Rochefort replied blandly.

Porthos snorted derisively. "Some witch hunter," he muttered.

Rochefort sharpened his vitriolic gaze on him. "I don't currently have the tools of my trade, but I've sent for them, and once they arrive I will be able to track this witch more effectively."

Athos turned away to hide his scowl, only to find Etienne jogging up to him. The musketeer looked unnerved and worried.

"Captain, the well is dry. All we've been able to bring up is sand."

Athos's brows shot upward in dismay. This couldn't be happening.

"Alright," he said, trying to regain his composure and take charge. "Send out men to check the rest of the city. We need to know how widespread this is before we can decide what to do." He spun back to Rochefort. "Your tools better arrive soon."

Rochefort didn't appear fazed in the slightest and nonchalantly turned to walk away.

Athos reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You know," Porthos spoke up quietly, "I ain't ashamed to admit I'm startin' to get a mite freaked out here."

Athos didn't blame him. There would be a lot of terrified people in the city, and that was just going to make matters worse.

"Captain Athos," a new voice spoke, and he turned to see what it was now.

"The King wants to see you," the palace servant said. "Immediately."

Athos suddenly wondered if the Louvre had been overrun with rats as well. He could just imagine the panic Louis would be in if that was the case.

He turned to Porthos. "Aramis might get that promotion after all," he commented dryly before heading to the palace.

"After this, who'd want it?" Porthos's wry comment followed him out.

Athos made his way to the Louvre where he was immediately escorted into one of the private libraries where the King and Minister Treville were waiting for him.

"Athos, what are these new incidents I'm hearing of?" Louis demanded.

Athos held himself stiffly as he answered. "It appears an outpouring of rats filled the garrison overnight, Your Majesty. I apologize for not coming sooner but my men are still ascertaining how widespread it was. Was the palace struck as well?"

"Thank God, no," Louis said, voice tinged with horror. "But this cannot go on!"

"The Musketeers are doing everything they can," Athos assured him.

"Make sure they are," Louis snapped.

"What about Rochefort?" Treville put in. "He does, after all, have experience in these matters."

Athos hesitated. While part of him wouldn't mind casting the blame on Rochefort for failing to perform as promised, he didn't want to diminish the King's trust in his Musketeers by doing so.

"Rochefort claims he is waiting for special instruments to help him hunt the witch responsible," Athos said honestly.

"We cannot abide these blatant acts of sorcery to continue," Louis rambled, still stuck on his previous point. He spun toward Athos, expression taut with fear. "My position has been tenuous enough as is after the Cardinal's betrayal; I cannot let the people think he truly was the power keeping France secure."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Athos replied.

Louis's face scrunched up in distress further before he finally whirled and swept out of the room.

Athos and Treville shared grim looks.

"The well in the garrison is also dry," Athos said, realizing he'd failed to mention that to the King in his report.

Treville exhaled heavily. "The King is not wrong; the Cardinal was the main force keeping witchcraft out of the city. In the early days of his witch hunters, they showed no mercy."

"I remember." Athos had never been directly involved in any incidents, but he'd heard tell of them. Tales so abhorrent that it was little wonder witches were hated and feared.

"Sir," he went on hesitantly. "We're not equipped for this." Athos was loath to admit it, but he was out of his depth here.

Treville nodded sagely. "The Musketeers have never had to directly deal with the threat of black magic, but I saw it in my early days of soldiering and I will tell you this—a witch's greatest power is convincing mortals their magic makes them invincible and us helpless. It's not true. Yes, their arsenal is greater and they work in the shadows, but they can be stopped."

Athos nodded in acknowledgement of the captain's wisdom. He just hoped they found a solid lead soon, before the entire city was brought to its knees.

.o.0.o.

Constance cringed as she batted yet another dead rat across the yard with a broom toward the pile that was accumulating. At least these ones were dead. She shuddered at the awful memory of live ones in her bed. She didn't know if she'd be able to sleep in her bedroom tonight. She didn't know if she'd be able to sleep anywhere until this horrible witch was caught.

She looked up from her work and startled at the sight of the Queen walking toward her. "Your Majesty!" she exclaimed, then grimaced at the pile of carcasses not three feet from her skirts. "I'm sorry for the state of the compound…"

"I heard what happened," Anne said. She glanced down at the rats and looked sickened, but quickly smoothed her expression as she wrenched her gaze back to Constance. "I came to see if you were all right."

"Oh, yes. I'm just a little shaken up."

"We all are," Anne replied. "But I'm sure Rochefort will find whoever is responsible and the city will be safe again soon."

"Rochefort," Constance repeated. "Right."

Anne furrowed her brow. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said hurriedly.

"Constance."

She winced at the Queen's tone. "He just seems a rough man, is all," she hedged.

Anne frowned sadly. "He's been through a great deal. I imagine that would take a toll on anyone. He deserves our compassion while he readjusts to being a free man."

"Of course," Constance was quick to agree, though internally she wasn't so sure. She trusted d'Artagnan's and the other musketeers' judgement.

Anne's gaze shifted past Constance's shoulder. "Is that Rochefort's dragon?" she asked.

Constance turned and spotted Falkor lying in the back of the compound by himself. "Yes."

She followed the Queen across the yard as Anne went to get a look at him. Falkor's eyes tracked them but otherwise he made no acknowledgement of their presence.

"The poor thing," Anne commented. "He's been through a lot as well."

Constance couldn't disagree with that.

Falkor got to his feet then, only to turn his back on them and limp to the other side of the compound where he plopped down again.

"He's been like that since he arrived," Constance said. She bit her lip before adding, "Some creatures just don't want kindness."

"We'll just have to be patient with him," Anne resolved. She forced a smile on her face as she turned her attention away from the sullen dragon. "And how is Beltane?"

"He's doing well," Constance replied. "If you'd like to see him…"

Anne's smile turned genuine. "I would like that."

Constance nodded and led the way to the dens, making a mental note to send one of the dragons out to incinerate that pile of rats before the Queen walked back that way…

.o.0.o.

D'Artagnan slogged into the garrison that evening and slumped wearily onto the bench seat at the table under the captain's office. It'd been a hell of a day, not counting the rat infestation, which, after a few hours, had thinned out as the rodents retreated to whatever hole they'd crawled out of to begin with. But that had just been the beginning. Every well for ten city blocks was dry, plunging the neighborhood into even more disarray. D'Artagnan wondered why the witch hadn't dried out the entire city, though maybe they weren't powerful enough for that.

In any case, the chaos from that had kept the musketeers busy all day long. The needs of the garrison's dragons were too great for them to vie with citizens for water in the lower part of town where the wells were untouched, so d'Artagnan and some other riders had taken a group of them with buckets outside of Paris to the nearest large source of water and proceeded to ferry a supply back. It'd taken hours but at least the garrison was stocked for a couple of days. Assuming the witch didn't come back and wipe out what they'd collected.

After that, d'Artagnan had gone on some patrols throughout the city, but nothing else out of the ordinary had happened, thank goodness.

Aramis sat down beside him and poured him a cup of wine. D'Artagnan automatically accepted it, but then stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. Grimacing, he set it down again. Aramis gave him a sympathetic look, yet he didn't pour himself a cup.

Athos and Porthos came over a few moments later.

"Those little vermin managed to chew through several pieces of dragon tack last night," Porthos groused as he took a seat beside them. He picked up the cup of wine and knocked back a swig without compunction.

D'Artagnan almost groaned; that'd be expensive to replace.

"We're fortunate no one was bitten," Aramis put in, always trying to look on the positive side.

Athos inclined his head in agreement, and d'Artagnan was massively relieved about that too. He stood up, realizing he should get back to Constance. He hadn't had a chance to see her all day and she was probably still upset about what happened.

A massive gust of wind abruptly whipped through the yard with a whistling howl, and every single torch and lantern was snuffed out. Even the candles sitting behind closed windows went dark. It was over as quickly as it'd come, the air settling and an eerie gloaming swallowing the garrison in its deepening shroud.

Everyone remained frozen where they stood or sat, exchanging unnerved looks. If d'Artagnan didn't know better, he'd say it felt like they were being called out.

But how did they respond to an invisible enemy who refused to make themselves known?