A/N: Thank you pallysd'Artagnan, jmp, LadyWallace, Ardoa88, and BrokenKestral for your reviews! :D And I know you've all been wondering about d'Artagnan's future dragon...here's your answer. ;)
Chapter 3
D'Artagnan's heart was in his throat as he dipped and lurched over the countryside, dangling from the dragon's claws. He instinctively twisted and writhed in the beast's grip, even though wriggling free would mean plummeting to his death far below. The mountains and forest loomed ahead, and d'Artagnan braced himself as he skimmed dangerously close to the tree tops. There was a small clearing at the base of a rocky outcropping where the dragon abruptly opened its talons, releasing its catch.
D'Artagnan cried out in surprise as he dropped to the ground, barely rolling into a crouch in time to avoid serious injury. He whipped out his acimite blade as the dragon landed with a dull reverberation and spun around to roar at him. D'Artagnan scrambled back automatically and the dragon surged forward, snapping its jaws at the air where he'd been. He swiped his sword in response, only remembering at the last minute that he shouldn't have done that. The tip of the blade caught the dragon across the face, but the impact caused the fracture to bend past its breaking point, and the top few centimeters of the sword snapped off. The dragon reared back with an ear-splitting screech.
D'Artagnan staggered backward again, heart hammering in his chest. The blade was still usable, but he had to be careful and make his next strike count.
Though, now that he was facing an enraged dragon, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that when every move was defend himself or die.
The dragon snarled viciously, blood flying in flecks from its split cheek. It lunged again and d'Artagnan darted to the side. The dragon whirled, its tail lashing out and knocking d'Artagnan's legs out from under him. He hit the ground and rolled, yet somehow kept a grip on his sword. The dragon shrieked again, and d'Artagnan twisted out of the way before that powerful jaw snapped over his head.
Scrambling to his feet, d'Artagnan let out a desperate battle cry and surged upward, aiming for the dragon's chest. The acimite's broken tip pierced its hide and went deep. The blade snapped from the hilt. With a screech, the dragon flung itself backward, then fell onto its side. D'Artagnan tripped and fell back as well, blood roaring in his ears.
The dragon twitched and jerked before letting out a long exhalation and falling still. D'Artagnan stared at it for several long moments, chest heaving from exertion and terror. But the dragon didn't move. Blood streamed out of its wound and shards of onyx glinted from within.
D'Artagnan dropped his head back against the ground and closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to return to a semblance of normalcy. After a few moments, he forced himself to move, pushing himself upright and then onto his knees. Black powder glittered on the ground around him. He frowned, heart clenching with anger and grief. This didn't have to happen; he wouldn't have had to kill that dragon if someone hadn't poisoned it.
He forced himself to stand and began to look around. Maybe he could find a clue as to who was behind all this. There wasn't much, though. D'Artagnan slowly made a circuit of the clearing, passing by a cave opening that must have been the dragon's den. He cautiously crept inside, just to have a look. There was a bed of dried leaves, some large animal bones that had been picked clean. D'Artagnan turned to leave when his eyes landed on something oval shaped and sparkling with amber flecks even in the dim light of the cave.
He moved to the edge of the nest and crouched down. It was an egg, sand colored save for flecks of orange and gold. D'Artagnan reverently reached out to touch it, fingers brushing across a coarse, grainy surface.
His gaze drifted over his shoulder and outside to the dragon he'd killed, and he felt a new wave of guilt and remorse. He hadn't had a choice, but it wasn't the dragon's fault. He turned back to the egg and, after a moment's thought, carefully picked it up. It was the size of a large melon and a little heavy. D'Artagnan looked around the cave uncertainly for a moment before tucking the egg inside his vest as well as he could. It was awkward and bulged beneath the fabric, but hopefully it would be relatively secure, since now he had the long, arduous walk down the mountain to get to.
And hopefully he wouldn't run into any more crazed dragons along the way.
.o.0.o.
He didn't make a habit of visiting the villages that had been targets of destruction; he had no intention of drawing attention to himself, and a lone stranger cloaked in black could easily garner suspicion. But he had seen the group of three flying in and knew they had to be dragon riders sent in response to the attacks. If they caught up with the wild dragon, the battle would likely be fierce, but the King's dragons would end victorious.
Yet as he made his way along the edge of the woodland, he saw no sight of the King's men and their dragons. That seemed odd; he hadn't seen them depart.
He kept to the tree line as he surveyed the perimeter of the village. Peasants weren't milling about as one would expect, picking through the detritus of their shattered lives in an effort to start over. They were skittish, like frightened little rabbits. And they were giving the barn furtive looks and keeping their distance.
He crept closer and heard the familiar snuffling of dragons. Ah, that made sense; the poor peasants would naturally be leery of any dragon, even tamed ones.
…Oh, but wouldn't that make for the perfect escalation? Turning Musketeer dragons against their riders.
Face cracking into a devious grin, he broke cover and made his way to the barn.
.o.0.o.
Aramis woke to fire in his shoulder and chest, a pained moan slipping past dry lips without thought.
"Aramis?"
He struggled to open his eyes in response. Porthos's blurry face loomed over him, and he didn't need to see distinct features to sense the hovering worry. "Mmph," was all he managed to get out before closing his eyes again.
A hand settled on his shoulder, opposite the unrelenting fire and of a softer warmth. "You awake?"
"Yes," he murmured. Though he really rather he wasn't. He focused on taking very slow, shallow breaths to keep the pain just under the surface of unbearable.
"Hang on," Porthos rumbled and moved away.
Aramis only had a flicker of thought that it was odd for him to be left alone, but he needn't have worried; footsteps returned a few moments later.
"Monsieur Aramis," a new voice spoke, "I have some medicine for the pain."
Normally he would question the authority prescribing something and what was in it, but right now he hurt too much to trouble over it and waited, focusing on strained breaths, until the rim of a cup was placed against his lips. He sipped slowly, recognizing the bitter taste of a few familiar herbs. The man knew his tonics, then. He kept absolutely still and continued his rhythmic breathing until the pain began to recede a little more.
He heard Porthos let out a heavy sigh.
"'M still awake," he mumbled and opened his eyes again.
Porthos straightened. "You had me worried."
Based on how Aramis felt, he could imagine. He very carefully lifted his head to look down at himself, but the bulge of bandages over his chest and shoulder prevented him from seeing the damage.
"Doctor Nouwen patched you up," Porthos said. "You lost a lot o' blood though."
Aramis shifted his gaze around the room in search of said physician, but he had apparently left. He settled his head back and tried to remember what had happened to lay him this low. His eyes blew wide. "Rhaego! Where's Rhaego?"
"He's in the barn wit' Vrita and Savron," Porthos replied.
Aramis shivered as memory swept through him. Rhaego had attacked him without warning. But something was wrong…something was wrong with him. "Is- is he…?"
"I had to knock him out," Porthos admitted. "He jus' went crazy."
Aramis's heart clenched. No. He tried to push himself upright. "I need to see him. Something was wrong." Fire lanced through him again and he gasped.
"Yer in no shape to do anythin'," Porthos snapped, pushing him back down. Aramis was too weak from blood loss to put up much resistance.
"Something's wrong with him," he insisted, even as his vision swam and he had to close his eyes to keep from throwing up.
"We know. Athos found some strange powder near where he was sniffin' for a trail. Thinks it may be some kind of alchemical compound. He an' d'Artagnan went to consult with an alchemist in another town. So until they get back, you jus' lie there and try not to rip out all that needlework the nice doctor put in."
Aramis didn't have the breath to respond, and he was loath to just lie here as Porthos suggested when Rhaego was sick and they needed to help him. But if Athos and d'Artagnan were already looking into it, then there really wasn't anything useful Aramis could be doing at the moment.
"Doc said you need to replenish all the blood you lost," Porthos went on, tone wary as though he expected more protest. "He left some broth."
Aramis breathed out slowly and finally managed a small nod. His stomach was quivering slightly, but some broth could help settle it, especially after those herbs he'd taken. He didn't bother trying to sit up and take the drink himself but let Porthos brace his head and hold the cup to his mouth.
He tried to rest after that, but his worry for Rhaego kept him from drifting into sleep easily.
"Vrita and Savron are…guarding him?" he asked.
"Yeah." Porthos hesitated. "An' we had to tie him up."
Aramis tried to imagine how they would have subdued the crazed dragon. "Did he hurt anyone else?"
"None of the villagers," Porthos answered. "Athos and d'Artagnan tended Vrita and Savron, and Rhaego as best they could, before they left."
Aramis's chest constricted again. Their wounds should be checked…and he doubted Doctor Nouwen would be willing to take on non-human patients. He was debating trying to get up again when the door opened and Athos entered. Aramis could immediately tell something was wrong; there was a tautness to the swordsman's demeanor in how he held himself back just over the threshold, as though reluctant to come further in. Haunted eyes briefly met Aramis's, and while there was a flicker of relief, there was something else Aramis couldn't identify but suddenly felt afraid to name.
"What happened?" Porthos asked, picking up on it as well. He shifted to look over Athos's shoulder into the taproom. "Where's d'Artagnan?"
A muscle in Athos's jaw ticked. "A dragon attacked Le Blanc. We tried to fight it. It- it took him."
Aramis pushed himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the pull of his sutures. "What?"
"What do you mean it took 'im?"
Athos shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. "It carried him off into the mountains. There was nothing I could do."
"We have to go after him!" Porthos exclaimed.
"We can't risk letting Savron or Vrita try to track its scent," Athos countered. "The substance we found is called dragon's bane and is used to send dragons into a crazed state."
"We can't jus' abandon him!"
Athos's mouth pinched into a grim line. "It's unlikely he's still alive."
"You're just going to give up on him?" Aramis said incredulously.
"I didn't say that," Athos snapped. "But we're stretched thin with Savron and Vrita guarding Rhaego, and this isn't just a wild dragon we're dealing with; someone intentionally triggered these attacks."
Aramis finally managed to push himself fully upright. "I'll watch Rhaego. You two go after d'Artagnan."
"Absolutely not," Porthos growled.
"This wasn't Rhaego's fault," Aramis insisted.
"I know that, but until we're sure he ain't gonna go crazy and attack you again, there's no way in hell we're leavin' you alone wit' him."
"The alchemist said the effects of the dragon's bane should wear off," Athos put in.
"How long?" Porthos asked.
"It doesn't matter," Aramis answered first. "D'Artagnan can't wait." He struggled to shift his legs over the side of the bed, keeping his arm tucked close against his stomach so as not to jostle his shoulder. His vision swam briefly and he knew he was pushing it, but as he'd said, it didn't matter. "You have to stop the dragon anyway," he pointed out through gritted teeth.
Porthos and Athos exchanged a look before wordlessly moving to help him. Porthos fished out a spare shirt to help him into since his was ripped and covered in blood. Athos took his own scarf and fashioned a makeshift sling for him.
"I still don' like this idea," Porthos grumbled as he helped Aramis toward the door.
"D'Artagnan needs you more than I do right now," he replied.
"Monsieur," Doctor Nouwen called, standing abruptly from his table in the taproom. "You should not be out of bed."
"Probably not," Aramis agreed with his usual jovial smile, or at least a grimaced attempt at one. "But duty supersedes luxury in times of need."
The physician didn't seem to know what to say to that and simply stood back in obvious displeasure as the three musketeers made their way outside.
Aramis was already feeling the strain and dizziness, but he told himself he could sit down when they reached the barn.
"Athos," Porthos suddenly said in a low voice.
"I see him."
Aramis snapped his head up and saw a cloaked figure sneaking across the road toward the barn. If they weren't aware there were dragons inside, they could find themselves facing a very angry russet beast.
"You there, stop!" Athos yelled out.
The figure jerked in surprise but then quickened his pace, sprinting the rest of the way to the barn door.
"Hey!" Porthos shouted next.
Aramis stumbled as his support moved away but managed to keep his feet as Porthos and Athos surged forward. The figure grabbed the barn door and yanked it open. He raised his other hand in a fist like he was going to throw something inside…
Athos whipped out his pistol and fired. The figure jerked and fell backward. Athos and Porthos rushed forward as Savron began to poke his head out of the barn to see what was happening.
"Stay inside!" Athos shouted at him, while Porthos barreled straight at the door and slammed it shut in the dragon's face.
Aramis lumbered across the stretch of dirt, slumping against the side of the barn when he caught up. Athos had knelt by the body and was prizing the dead man's fist open. It was full of a glittering black powder.
"Don't try to come out, Savron!" Athos yelled.
Porthos crouched down on the other side of the body and began to pat it down. The man had several pouches on his belt, and Aramis caught glimpses of various compounds in each one. Porthos reached into a pocket and pulled out a medallion bearing the seal of the Order of Alchemy.
"Guess he was makin' all his own stuff," Porthos commented.
Athos searched the pockets on his end and pulled out some coins. "Spanish gold."
"You think he was workin' fer Spain?" Porthos asked incredulously. "To do what?"
"Spread terror on French soil?" Athos postulated. "Lure the Musketeers here to target them? We'll never know for certain." He started scooping up the dragon's bane and shoving it back into one of the alchemist's pouches, then snatched a water skin off the dead man's belt to wash his hands with. "We should cover him, in case there are any traces on his clothes."
Porthos nodded and jumped up to open the barn door and slip inside. He re-emerged a moment later with a tarp that he spread over the body. "Vrita an' Savron seem okay. An' Rhaego's awake."
Aramis pushed away from the side of the barn at that and hurried inside. He pulled up short in horror when he saw Rhaego on the floor, bound so thoroughly that he couldn't move more than his neck and only a few inches. That brief moment of mindlessness that had been there before was gone, replaced with a miserable and confused look as he blinked up at Aramis.
"Oh, Rhaego," he breathed, shuffling forward and sinking to his knees next to his dragon. He placed a hand on Rhaego's head, then moved to undo the rope muzzling him, but fumbled with it one-handed.
"Savron and I will go look for d'Artagnan," Athos announced. "With the person behind this dead, there shouldn't be any more dragon attacks."
"You both should go," Aramis said.
"No," Athos rejoined and gave Porthos a meaningful look.
Aramis wanted to argue, but the effort it'd taken to get out here had triggered the pain in his shoulder and chest again and there was no way he'd be able to help Rhaego by himself.
"Good luck," he said quietly to Athos.
Athos nodded solemnly and walked out with his dragon. Aramis took a moment to close his eyes and lift a prayer heavenward that their younger brother was still alive, and that Athos would find him and bring him home.