Earlier
Athos and Porthos were beyond frustrated. They were beginning to think they had been led on a wild goose chase.
The four brothers had left Paris together, and had been a couple of days' journey to a comte's home to deliver a letter from the King. The letter had been personally put into Athos' hand by the First Minister, who told him they were to guard it well-with their lives, if necessary, the Cardinal had said with a pointed stare..
Athos had given Richelieu a long, hard stare, the Cardinal knowing full well that was part of any undertaking regarding the Royal Family or their property that the Musketeers undertook. Richelieu, after a moment, was the first to look away. Athos had turned on his heel and almost stalked out of the room, upset that he had let Richelieu get under his skin, something he rarely let happen.
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They had ridden out of the garrison early the next morning. It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves on the trees were just starting to turn color, the reds, golds and oranges of the leaves brightening the day.
The beauty surrounding them brought out the lightheartedness of all four of them, and they began teasing each other and telling tall tales to while away the hours of the journey.
"Maybe the comte will be so pleased to hear from the King that he will give us a delicious supper for our troubles," Porthos commented, patting his stomach in anticipation.
"More likely he will have us sent around to the back door, where his man of business will take the letter, and tell us to cool our heels in the barn until his master composes a reply to bring back to Louis," Aramis said. Porthos' face fell at the death of his dream, as Aramis grinned.
Athos and d'Artagnan just listened in silence, enjoying the bantering and teasing that relieved the boredom of a long ride on horseback.
Athos just wanted to finish their mission and get back to Paris. D'Artagnan wanted to get back, as well, but his thoughts were focused on seeing Constance again.
Two days' journey out, Aramis began to get a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. As discreetly as possible, he began to scan the treeline to see if he might see movement there. His brothers, atuned to each other as they were, noticed Aramis' scanning right away, and joined him in trying to detect anything unusual that might have triggered Aramis' feeling. They knew how many times their brother's sense of danger had saved their lives. Aramis had barely registered the glint of a metal coming from the darkness of the trees on the side of the road before several heavily-armed, hooded men burst out onto the road, attacking as they came.
After several minutes of intense fighting, Aramis managed to signal Athos and Porthos that he and d'Artagnan would hold them off while they continued on to the comte's lands.
Athos had to make quick decision. He understood that Aramis was right, the letter couldn't fall into enemy hands. It was their duty to protect it at all costs. But these were his brothers. He loved them with all his heart, and didn't want to leave them to fight while he and Porthos rode on.
Finally, duty had won out after Aramis had tried again as he had continued to fight furiously with the bulky, hooded man in front of him. . Porthos didn't want to leave either, and was rather insistent. Athos just mouthed one word, 'duty', and Porthos, with a lingering look back at his brothers, had finally and reluctantly followed him.
AS they rode away, they were somewhat heartened to hear their brothers' furious fighting driving back the hooded men.
The rest of the journey was about a day's distancce, and when they finally caught sight of the turrets of the centuries' old castle where the elderly comte resided, they were relieved. They could finally deliver the letter and get back to the scene of the ambush
The two, the further away they had traveled from their brothers, had felt their anxiety and worry increasing, as they had no idea what final the outcome had been.
They had hoped against hope that Aramis and d'Artagnan had dispatched their unknown foes, and would race to catch up and rejoin their brothers. But there had been no sign of them, no matter how often they had glanced at the road behind them.
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Aramis and d'Artagnan had dispatched their opponents, Aramis finally driving his sword throught the chest of the last one standing. Pulling several long, deep breaths into his lungs now that they had a free moment, he looked over at d'Artagnan, whom he found doing the same thing.
"We need to get moving, d'Artagnan," he said, "I have a gut feeling that they may have reinforcements coming. One of them kept looking to the north as he was fighting, like he might be expecting assistance."
As weary as they were, they nevertheless began moving at a fast pace towards the east, their horses having been frightened by the clashing of swords into bolting. Neither one of them thought their horses were irretrievably lost, however. Their mounts were highly trained, and would head back to the garrison when their panic had worn off. But it meant that Aramis and d'Artagnan had only their own feet for transportation, and couldn't move nearly as fast on foot at on horseback, and their possible pursuers were mounted.
They ran for as long as they could, but after several miles, with no warning, d'ARtagnan simply wilted to the ground, where he lay unmoving.
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Present
Aramis woke when a hand softly began to rub his shoulder. Shrugging it off, he heard a very familiar voice say urgently, "Aramis!" And again, louder, "Aramis!"
Groaning, he reluctantly rolled around to face his brother, not quite completely awake yet, his eyes slightly u nfocused. He looked up through the light rain that had materialized as he was waking up, seeing the frown on his brother's face.
"Aramis," d'Artagnan said his name again, concern fraring anew that his brother was hiding an injury from him, but having no time to act on it now. "Riders are coming."
That woke Aramis up the rest of the way. "Which way?"
D'Artagnan replied, "From the north, the same direction we just came from. I could hear the horses' hooves on the ground when I woke up. They could be some distance away yet, as sound carries when an ear is put to the ground," which they both already knew. "We need to get under cover fast."
Aramis began hurriedly looking around for a likely place that would conceal them adequately, but d'Artagnan spoke again. "There is a cave opening a little ways up that hill," pointing to the incline in back of them. If we can get up there, I can pull some brush over the opening. I just hope nothing is living in there that may resent our intrusion."
"Beggars can't be choosers," Aramis quiped, as he pushed himself to his feet, stifling his reaction to the pain the movement caused him from the sharp eyes of the Gascon.
Moving quickly, they reached the hill and began climbing. Aramis could feel the movement pulling at his wound, but ignored it as best he could. It wasn't easy for d'Artagnan to climb without putting pressure on the shoulder he had injured, but the urgency of the situation fueled their movements now as they both tried to move past the pain to reach the safety of the cave. It didn't help that as they had started to climb, the light smattering of rain that had greeted them after they had awakened had now turned into a downpour.
Finally, they moved into the mouth of the cave, d'Artagnan, who had been brushing over their tracks with a broken tree branch as they moved, turning a smilng face to Aramis.
"Luck is with us! That downpour may have been hard to climb with,but it will have wiped away all our tracks. They won't know where we went now!"
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Once d'Atagnan had pulled the brush over the cave's entrance, he joined Aramis where the marksman was just getting a small fire started. They had figured that no one would be able to see it as far back in the cave as they were, and with the cave entrance covered. D'Artagnan had noticed that Aramis tried to do as much as possible partially turned towards the wall. 'Still trying to hide the winces from his movements', he thought, having just ignored the sharp twinges from his own, as well. 'We're a fine pair,' the ironic thought almost making him smile.
The one thing they didn't have was food or water. That would become a concern their pursuers hung around for very long looking for clues as to where they had gone. D'Artagnan figured he could probably slip out and see about getting them some water and maybe even something to eat once these unknown villains had moved off in another direction. 'If they do,' he cautioned himself.
"How is your shoulder?" Aramis asked.
"Still there," he answered.
Giving him a stern, no-nonsense look, Aramis asked again softly.
"It's sore, especially if I try to do too much with it..."
"Like drag branches around to cover up our presence, and brush to conceal us?" Aramis asked, with a hint of a smile, then looked pointedly at him again.
Giving up, d'Artagnan replied, "It's sore, especially if I try to do too much with it, but I haven't let it stop me," he answered truthfully and with a little hint of stubborness in his voice.
They were silent for awhile, listening for the sounds of horses and riders, but so far it was all silent except for birds singing in the trees.
"Aramis...," d'Artagnan began, only to be stopped short by Aramis, who put up a hand and said, "I'm fine, d'Artagnan."
"You don't look fine, Aramis. You're pale, your hands are trembling off and on. Even though you try to hide it, I see you wincing in pain when you try to do things. Let me..."
Aramis stopped him again. "We don't have the luxury of time for this. The men hunting for us may get here at any moment. They must not hear me sc...," almost betraying himself. But he had already said too much.
D'Artagnan pounced on his words. "I knew it! I knew you were hiding something. Aramis, I need to take care of it. Let me..."
But Aramis had got himself under control once again, and pulled away saying, "I've taken care of it, mon ami. There's nothing more you can do that what I've done already."
But d'Artagnan had picked up on the quiet note of resignation in Aramis' voice, and his worry ratcheted up at it. "Aramis, please...," but all the the begging in the world wouldn't move his brother to give in.
"D'Artagnan, leave it be," said Aramis, his voice holding a hint of anguish, he began moving towards the cave entrance to listen for any signs of horses below.
If d'Artagnan had been concerned before, the worry levels were now consuming him. He loved his brother, and knew Aramis. "Something is seriously wrong,' he thought to himself. He almost sounds like ... like ... he might not make it."
'If he thinks he's going to sacrifice himself to protect me, he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does. I will help you despite your stubborn self,' he promised silently.
His thoughts were interrupted by Aramis' whispered warning. "They have arrived."
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We will be getting to who is after them and why a little later, I promise. Thanks for reading!