Instead of one long chapter, this week's will consist of this rather short chapter, with another longer one probably on Monday morning. My schedule has been a little unsettled this week and probably the next. Enjoy!

The Musketeers made their way stealthily towards the site d'Artagnan had discovered, not seeing anyone else emerge from the building.

At last reaching an opening that looked as if it might have been the entrance to the abandoned prison in what was left of a grey-stoned wall, Athos and d'Artagnan stood with their backs to the wall on the opening's right side, while Porthos assumed the same position on its left.

Listening for several moments to see if they were able to detect any movement within, they silently signaled all clear to each other. D'Artagnan slowly stepped away from the wall and around the crumbling door frame, pistol and sword drawn, Athos and Porthos right behind him.

They seem to be in what looked like the former main entranceway to the prison, probably where new prisoners were received into custody from whoever had charge of bringing them there. The grey walls were green-tinged, piles of rubble lying about in its desolated condition. The remains of another door stood opposite them, leading to the interior.

Cautiously crossing to the door, Porthos went first, poking his head around first to see if the coast was clear. It led to an equally dilapidated staircase, the bottom of it shrouded in darkness. Since almost all of the remains of the old prison was underground, this might be the only way to access it.

Having grabbed a lantern each from a pile of them piled haphazardly against one wall of the entranceway, they now lit them and proceeded cautiously and as silently as possible down the stairs, not knowing if booted feet would be heard on the lower level.

There was a wide hallway shrouded in darkness in front of them as they got to the ground again. Making their way down the hallway, they passed darkened rooms lining both sides of the corridor, full of cobwebs and mice, that skittered away across the floor at the sound of their footsteps.

At the end of the hallway, two branches led in opposite directions. Porthos silently made hand signals, asking if they should split up and check them out, to which Athos shook his head, indicating they needed to stay together.

Since there were cells in the hallway on the right, Athos opted to check them out first. Taking the lead, he moved slowly down the corridor, which was narrower than the previous one. Cell after cell lined the long darkened hallway, all with doors ajar, empty inside.

Hoping when they found the cells that it was going to be easier than they had thought to find Aramis, they each swallowed their disappointment and returned to the junction of the hallways, taking the remaining unexplored one now.

This corridor had no cells, just darkened like the main one near the entrance. But Athos froze a couple of steps in, seeing light under the door at the end, which was also the only one closed.

Moving more slowly and with extreme caution, they approached the door, and as they got closer they heard voices, muffled by the closed door. Flattening themselves as they had at the entrance, they listened.

"Won't be much longer now. Held out longer than we figured. But no one comes out of that alive," and several men agreed, and then laughed at the comments. He had no idea how incensed the words had just made three Musketeers.

As one, they burst through the door, firing as they came.

There were six men lounging at their ease around an ancient, rickety table. When they were invaded, they flew out of their chairs, reaching for their weapons, the chairs overturning, cards scattering to the floor, drinks spattering everything they touched when they fell.

All three pistols found their marks, leaving two men dead and sprawled on the floor, one wounded but still on his feet, the other four now armed and defending themselves against the furious Musketeers.

The fight was over in a few minutes, their opponents no match for three highly trained Musketeers, no matter how many underhanded tricks they tried. Two of the four were dead, one by Athos' sword and the other by d'Artagnan's, and two were wounded.

But no matter how much they were questioned, no matter how many times Porthos threatened to take them apart, their lips remained sealed as to where Aramis was.

Downcast at receiving no answers to help them in finding their brother, Athos finally called a halt.

"We do not have the time to continue. We need to find Aramis quickly. I have had a very bad feeling since we have been here." The others nodded their heads, telling him they, too, were getting the same unsettled feelings.

Their two captives were bound and locked in one of the cells along the previous corridor. Then, the brothers resumed their search for their missing fourth, a heightened sense of urgency spurring them on now.

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Aramis' shivering was gradually increasing. Vaguely, the medic in him recognized all the signs now of a bad cold developing, but he was unable to help himself. He was curled up as tightly as he could, given the shackles' restrictive presence. But in shirtsleeves, without a blanket, cloak or any protective covering, he was aware enough to know that without help, he wouldn't make it.

He would die here, without his brothers, alone in a dark underground pit, never even to be found and properly received the last rites and be buried.

His mind tiredly turned to d'Artagnan. 'I'm so sorry, brother', he thought. My one purpose was to try to save you, and I failed miserably. May we meet again in death as we were unable to in life. Athos. Porthos. Do not grieve for me. Be at peace. Carry on. Find the loves of your life. Live for me.'

Once again, he couldn't restrain the tears. They trickled down, and then dwindled as he lost consciousness again, feeling that it might be the last time.

He had no idea how close his brothers were, if only they could find him.

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