A/N: Thank you Guest for your review! Glad you enjoyed the first chapter. ^_^
Chapter 2
There wasn't much that Aramis and Porthos could actually assist Agnes with as she ran her experiments, save for passing her bottles from her shelves at her behest. Aramis did most of that, as Porthos was too leery of even touching anything he thought could be related to black magic. He stood by the door, arms crossed and looking constipated as he watched Agnes's moves with guarded suspicion.
"How do you intend to find a cure?" Aramis asked, trying to dispel some of his friend's wariness by inviting scientific explanation.
"By running tests until I find the compound that neutralizes the damage," Agnes replied. "Unfortunately, there are a great many on this earth and my only course is process of elimination."
Aramis gazed around at the numerous materials. Yes, that could take a while.
"Athos an' d'Artagnan are back," Porthos reported, gaze angled out the window.
A few minutes later, the two re-entered the small hut.
"Everything alright?" Aramis asked.
"For now," Athos replied. "But the priests are displeased we haven't taken Agnes into custody yet. And their superstitious fears are getting them worked up. Have you made any progress?"
Agnes let out an irritated sound. "You cannot rush science."
Aramis arched a brow at Athos. "Not yet."
The musketeers hovered around the small dwelling, trying to stay out of the way as Agnes continued to work. At one point she ran out of contaminated wheat samples to test and asked them to go out and get her more. Porthos and d'Artagnan went while Aramis and Athos remained to keep an eye on her, though they didn't say so.
The afternoon wore on and evening fell, and still it didn't seem as though any progress was being made. Agnes stood over her most recent mixture, watching it intently. The water inside was murky from whatever she had added to the wheat ear. She stared at it for several long moments before pushing away from the table with a frustrated grunt.
"Didn't work?" d'Artagnan hazarded.
"No." Agnes braced her palms on the edge of the work table. "Not even a little. I assumed I would have to find a combination of elements to treat the disease, but so far nothing is working."
The musketeers exchanged looks. That wasn't good.
"Why don't you take a break," Aramis suggested. "It's getting late and you should eat."
Agnes straightened with a frown as she glanced out the window at the encroaching twilight. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? I should have offered you some food. I get so caught up in my work sometimes."
"Understandable," he said with a smile. "And it is rather important work."
"Here, let me cut up some vegetables." She reached up to remove a sack hanging from the ceiling, but Aramis intercepted her.
"We'll take care of it," he said. "So you can keep working."
Agnes hesitated for only a second before nodding.
Aramis carried the vegetables outside so he wouldn't get in Agnes's way and the musketeers began to set up a camp, since it seemed they would be here overnight and Agnes's small hut couldn't possibly house them all. They unsaddled their dragons and let the beasts loose to go hunting. Aramis settled against his saddle and started cutting up the vegetables into a large bowl while the others unpacked the bags.
"You don't still think she's a witch?" d'Artagnan said to Porthos.
The large musketeer harrumphed. "Can't say fer sure, can we?"
"But, if she was a witch, wouldn't the dragons, I don't know, sense something?" the boy pressed. "They seem fine here."
"Dragons don't hold the same prejudices against magic that we do," Aramis put in.
D'Artagnan furrowed his brow. "Even though they know what our mission is?"
"If she tried to escape, they would pursue her," Athos replied. "But if you're expecting them to hiss and spit at any witch they come across, that is just more superstition."
"Of course, Athos doesn't believe in witches to begin with," Aramis pointed out with a cheeky grin.
Athos didn't deign to respond to that.
"I still don' like it," Porthos grumbled.
"The question is moot," Aramis said, tearing off a chunk of bread from their rations and adding it to the small plate of vegetables he'd set aside. He stood and carried it back into the hut.
Agnes looked up in surprise as he offered her the food. "Oh, you didn't have to…"
"You should eat," he pressed. "You've been working nonstop all day."
She accepted the plate with a small smile. "Thank you." Her gaze drifted down his neckline. "You're a man of God."
He glanced down at his rosary hanging out from his collar. "I try to be."
"Yet you don't seem to despise me."
"You haven't been tried and found guilty in a court of law yet. And even if you were, that would not give me reason to despise you."
She scoffed under her breath. "The Church does not agree with you."
"No," he said sadly.
They fell silent as Agnes nibbled on a piece of bread.
"So if I were a witch," she spoke up softly, "you would not execute me on sight?"
"That's not my job," he replied. "Besides, you're not really a witch."
Agnes studied him for a prolonged beat, then turned away and set the plate on the table. "Thank you," she said. "I should get back to work."
Aramis's brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded in respect and took his leave.
.o.0.o.
Because of the village's unrest, Athos set a watch for the night, not only to keep an eye out for more spies who might wish harm on the supposed "witch," but also to keep close tabs on Agnes. The fact that she was working so hard trying to find a cure counted for something though.
The fire crackled, sending embers floating up into the sky awash with the light of a full moon. Athos roved his gaze over his sleeping companions, then to the small hut where an amber glow still flickered softly through the window pane. It was nearing midnight, and despite the urgency of the situation, Agnes should get some rest as well. Athos stood up and went to the door, pausing to knock softly before entering. He pulled up short when he found the room empty, the candles burning low. His gaze shifted to the back bed—but it was empty as well.
Athos took a few more steps into the hut, whipping his gaze around, but there was no sign of Agnes. There was only the one door; how had she snuck out without him seeing?
Athos turned and strode back outside. "Wake up," he snapped.
Aramis and Porthos immediately came awake and threw off their cloaks; d'Artagnan made a snuffling sound and shifted.
"Agnes is gone," Athos reported.
Aramis frowned. "Gone? Where?"
"If I knew, we wouldn't have a problem," Athos retorted. He marched over to Savron, who lifted his head in query. "You didn't hear her leave?"
The dragon's expression pinched and he abashedly shook his head.
"How is that?" d'Artagnan asked, finally stumbling out of his bedroll.
"Yer gonna tell me that ain't witchy?" Porthos added.
Athos's lips pressed into a tight line. He didn't know how she'd managed it, or why; their only concern now was finding her.
"Do you think we made a mistake?" d'Artagnan asked worriedly.
Athos ignored the question. He didn't want to be wrong putting their trust in this woman, but if they didn't find her, then it would be a decision he would certainly rue. "Split up. The dragons too."
The more ground they could cover, the better.
They all set off in different directions, the dragons taking to the sky to get an aerial view. Athos followed the road along the edge of the village, the path a milky ribbon under the full moon. And so it was that he easily spotted Agnes standing in the middle of one of the dying wheat fields. Her back was to him and she wasn't moving. Athos slowed warily. Were this one of the healthy fields, he might suspect her of being the one to tamper with the crops after all, but it wasn't. Yet she wasn't gathering samples as she had been doing earlier either. A strange blue light was emanating from the space in front of her, wreathing her contours in a hazy outline.
The hairs on the back of Athos's neck stood on end and he gripped the hilt of his sword as he moved forward. Agnes suddenly whirled, her eyes wide at seeing him. He pulled up short yet again and frowned at the candlestick in her hands, glowing a soft amber. There was no trace of the blue light he swore he saw…but maybe it had just been the reflection of the moon, a trick of light.
"What are you doing?" he demanded sharply, his senses still unsettled.
"I think I finally found a cure for the crops," she replied. "I came out to try it."
"What is this cure?" he pressed.
Agnes huffed. "Would you like the make-up of the chemical compositions, or would you just like to see if it has the desired results?"
Athos narrowed his eyes at the evasive answer, but a look around showed nothing obviously amiss. "Why did you sneak off on your own?"
"I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up when I wasn't sure it would work. Time was of the essence though, and I didn't want to wake you."
"We're all awake now," Athos rejoined.
Agnes nodded. "My apologies."
She started to walk toward him; his hand remained fixed on his sword. Guardedly, they both fell into step side by side and started heading back toward Agnes's hut. Athos let out two sharp whistles which were answered by a chirp from above. By the time they reached Agnes's dwelling, the others were returning in response to Savron's call.
"What happened?" Aramis asked, throwing a look of concern at Agnes.
"She claims to have been testing a remedy," Athos replied. "And didn't want to wait."
Aramis's brow furrowed while Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged skeptical looks.
"And did it work?" d'Artagnan asked.
"We will know in the morning," Agnes replied and started for her home. "In the meantime, sleep well."
With that, she slipped back inside and shut the door.
Porthos turned to Athos. "You don' believe her?"
"I can't see what reason she would have to lie," he said. "Unless she has been playing us from the start."
"Did you find her in a healthy field?" Aramis asked.
"No, in a sick one."
Which was the only reason he was inclined to continue believing her.
Still, her behavior was not without suspicion.
"So what do we do?" d'Artagnan inquired.
Athos strode back to his bedroll. "Wait for morning and see what we'll find then."
.o.0.o.
The next morning they all forwent breakfast in order to check the crops first thing. Well, the humans did. The dragons opted to go hunting rather than go look at uninteresting wheat fields. Aramis couldn't blame them.
There was a nervous tension among them as Agnes and Athos led the way to the field she had visited the night before. If this hadn't worked, they were back to square one.
But as the field came into view, Aramis's eyes widened to see the stalks standing upright and strong. Athos came to a halt, his own expression uncharacteristically open in its stupefaction. Agnes was smiling.
"It worked," d'Artagnan said, giving voice to what they were all thinking in relief.
And so quickly too…it was practically a miracle. Aramis turned to Agnes. "What did you do?"
"I found the right balance," she replied in that coy manner of hers again.
"We need to treat the rest of the fields," d'Artagnan said eagerly.
"No need," Agnes responded. "I treated them all last night."
Athos turned his frown upon her. "You did? You had time for all that?"
"Some wind helped spread the cure," she said. "As did insect germination, I'm sure. Why don't we go check them?"
They did need to confirm that the disease had been countered. Still, Aramis got the feeling Agnes was keeping something from them—and Athos, for one, did not like it.
But if she had saved all the crops, did it really matter?
They trekked all along the outskirts of the village, inspecting each field of crops they passed. Each one looked healthy and hearty, even the ones Aramis remembered were crumbling with rot only yesterday. Such turnaround was staggering. And unfathomable.
"The locals should be relieved to hear their crops have been saved," Athos said as they came to the last field. He shot a meaningful look at the others before saying to Agnes, "Excuse us for a moment."
She gave him an odd look but nodded.
The musketeers moved a few paces away.
"What is it?" Aramis asked.
"Now that the crisis is resolved, we have our orders."
Aramis's brows flew upward. "But she's not a witch."
"Our orders were to bring her back to Paris," Athos reiterated.
"She just saved the crops!"
"And we will plead her case before the courts."
Aramis shook his head in disbelief.
"Look," Porthos interjected, "I can admit she's proven herself not evil, but Athos's right. We have orders."
"We'll just explain to the Cardinal that the rumors were false and that her 'magic' was really just science," d'Artagnan added.
Aramis put his hands on his hips and hung his head. He knew they were right, even if he didn't like it.
They turned back toward Agnes, yet before they could deliver the unfortunate news, they spotted a large group of people from the village heading their way.
"Well this don' look good," Porthos murmured.
The musketeers immediately moved to flank Agnes as the peasants drew closer, led by two priests.
"Is something the matter?" Athos asked loudly above the din of the mob.
Father Duval jabbed a finger at Agnes. "You have neglected your duty long enough! Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"
"She is not a witch!" Aramis yelled back. "She studies science, not black magic."
"I saw her casting a spell last night!" someone shouted. "She's poisoning our crops!"
"Look around you!" d'Artagnan jumped in. "The crops are healthy again."
"By witchcraft!" the second priest accused.
Athos rolled his eyes. "And why would she poison them just to save them?"
"To worm her way into our good will," Duval spat. "But we will not be taken in by her deceits. The witch must burn!"
Men surged forward suddenly, pushing the musketeers back as others seized Agnes and dragged her into the mob. She screamed and tried to wrench away but there were too many. Aramis fought against the tide to reach her but was repeatedly pushed back. The only way through was to draw his weapons and cut them down, but he could not slay a bunch of unarmed peasants. Where was one of their dragons when they needed it?
"Enough!" Athos bellowed. "We will be taking her to the Cardinal for a trial!"
"Will you?" Father Duval seethed. "Whether by enchantment or guile, you cannot be trusted around the witch."
"No, stop!" Agnes screamed, but her pleas were swallowed up in the ruckus of the mob sweeping her back toward the village.