Aramis felt guilt creeping through his mind as he raced away from his brothers. They had opposed his coming with them in the first place, being concerned that he wasn't in shape to be going with them. He had vigorously appealed to them, saying he needed to take part in rescuing Athos because he had caused his brother's predicament in the first place, that he was overcome with pain at the possible death or injury to his brother. He then told them he was feeling fine, which they immediately dismissed in disbelief, knowing him quite well. But his last argument finally made them give in.
"If you leave me behind, I will just go on my own', he had said, and that made them nervous enough at the prospect of him facing the vicious gang alone that that finally gave in. They knew Aramis, and knew that he would do exactly as he threatened to do if they didn't.
Aramis had to work hard to keep a smile hidden as he had mounted up with them. He knew his brothers, too.
He reached the back of massive prison, and began searching for the little-known entrance that hadn't been used in recent times. The Musketeers and the Red Guards had been at each other's throats for years, but Aramis had made one friend from among them.
Two years ago, he had saved the man's life when a petty thief had pulled a hidden dagger as Henri was wrestling him to the ground. The man had taken a swipe at him, and the blade had torn a deep gash across his shoulder. Aramis, happening by, had knocked the man out with the handle of his pistol, his brothers arriving next, and taking the thief into custody.
Aramis, meanwhile, had stopped the bleeding from Henri's wound, and used a piece of his own shirt to bandage it. Henri had been profoundly grateful, and little by little, a friendship between the two had formed.
It had been Henri, a man interested in how things were built and who had taken to examining the structure of the prison he had been assigned to work in, who had told Aramis about the Bastille's back door, telling him if you didn't know to look for it, you might pass it right by, overgrown with creepers and weeds as it was. Aramis had thought, while they headed for the Bastille, that a sizable group of men would probably attract the attention of the Red Guards who worked in the prison. One man alone might not draw their eyes, at least he hoped not.
There it was! Leaping from his horse, he approached the door and tried it, jubilant when it creaked right open. He moved through it, pulling it closed behind him-a moment before Porthos, who had been delayed by a vendor's cart crossing his path, rounded the corner in search of him.
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Athos had taken out two of the men, and was close to defeating the other two, when several more arrived to join the fray. Trying not to get disheartened/div at the overwhelming odds now stacked against him, he continued fighting furiously, but was starting now to tire.
Just as it looked as if he would be retaken, he saw out of the corner of his eye a new man entering the fight-and to Athos' astonishment, it seemed he was fighting against the foe. Athos couldn't see much more out of the corner of his vision than a back and hat, but then the his unexpected ally swiveled his head and grinned at him as he fought.
"Aramis!' Athos exulted. He had no idea how his brother had got here or found his location in the twisting dark-lit halls of whatever prison he was in. He was just incredibly glad he was here beside him.
The two of them now made short work of their opponents, dispatching them with a level of skills their opponents simply didn't possess.
As the last man fell, both Aramis and Athos spied a large figure take off down a dark connecting hallway. Looking at each other in silent agreement, they both followed in pursuit, leaving an array of bodies strewn around the now-silent hallway.
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Treville found that he didn't have any trouble gaining entrance to the Bastille, once he told the Red Guard at the entrance that Louis needed a prisoner brought before him immediately. The ruse worked, and the Musketeers rapidly filed through the doors.
Treville had already figured, as Aramis had, that the only place Athos could be successfully hidden away would be the seldom-used bottom level of the edifice. Treville seethed, thinking of his man in the bowels of this prison, innocent of any crime, a pawn to force a trade-off for another of his men, also innocent.
Laurent, who had also pleaded, and then insisted that he be allowed to accompany the rescue attempt. He brought up the rear, anger at his brother warring with the fear Mattieu had instilled in him all through his life. He tamped down that fear now, determined to be his own man finally.
Treville led his men by as straight a path as was possible down into the depths of the prison, but after moving through a series of passageways, they found a scene of bodies and weapons strewn in the middle of one of the them. Treville looked at Porthos and d'Artagnan, Porthos' nodding before saying, "Looks like they weren't much of a match for our brothers", ending with a grin.
"Let's go find them before they run into any more trouble," Treville said.
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Athos and Aramis both figured they might finally have a chance to get Mattieu. Both men had seen the size of the culprit who had taken of, and figured there couldn't be that many men of that size who just happened to be inside the Bastille.
Aramis had fought full-out at Athos' side surprisingly with no signs of exhaustion from his long period of recovery. But as they trailed Mattieu, it started to make it's presence felt. 'Not now', he stubbornly told his body.
He had briefly told Athos of the Musketeers arrival, and that they were probably even now within the building searching for them.
Glancing over at a grim-faced and determined Athos, his medic's trained eyes could see, even in the dim light from the torches hung high on the walls, that he had been beaten-and recently. Knowing Athos, he figured that his brother was also commanding his body to ignore the damage for now. In some ways, Aramis thought to himself, we are quite alike at times.
They had reached another branching of the hallways. Aramis looked at Athos, who shrugged his shoulders and turned onto the one to the left, Aramis staying right beside his brother. They could just hope this was the right direction, that Mattieu hadn't gone right, back out into the streets of Paris to continue the bloody path he made of his life.
This section of hallway was even worse lit than the others. They moved more cautiously, always peering ahead hoping to get a good glimpse of their quarry.
This hallway had several completely unlit branches spaced out along the passage. They glanced down them as they passed, but couldn't really see anything.
The increased dimness of the hallway began bringing back unwelcome memories for Aramis of the time of his captivity with the absence of any light. Shaking the thoughts off, an involuntary shiver still ran down his back.
That feeling suddenly changed, as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Mattieu was somewhere very close to them now! He started to reach over to warn Athos, when an arm grabbed hold of his left arm and wrenched it viciously up behind his back, at the same time as a big, meaty hand clamped down over his mouth, stifling the warning he had been about to give.
It did Mattieu no good to keep him quiet, though. Athos instantly felt the danger, swiveling around, sword in hand.
Seeing Aramis held tightly against Mattieu's huge frame, Athos froze.
"Let him go, Mattieu! The game is over. Musketeers are already in the building looking for you. You have nowhere left to run."
"I don't think you or they are going to run your friend through to get to me. You care too much about each other, and that has been your downfall. He is going to be taken back to finish what we …"
At these words, Aramis' eyes went wide, and Athos could see the effect they had on him. At first, Aramis struggled, but didn't get anywhere doing so. He wasn't physically the size of Mattieu, and the man had no trouble maintaining his hold. If anything, he tightened his arms further.
Aramis' breathing was now being affected , as part of Mattieu's hand was over his nose as well as mouth. Athos demanded, "Let him go! He cannot breathe!"
"Well, then he dies here now instead of later. Makes no difference. I get paid anyway," he said laughing.
"The man doesn't Richelieu's is dead', Athos thought. About to inform him in the last hope that the man would back off, Athos saw Aramis suddenly go limp.
Just as he was going to fling himself at Mattieu, he saw Aramis, once Mattieu's grip loosen slightly, kick back as hard as he could, hitting Mattieu's kneecap, causing the man to help in pain.
At the same time, he wrenched his arm upward. Athos heard a loud pop, seeing Aramis grimaced in pain. But the marksman's arm came free.
Athos, gripping his sword, started forward, but halted when someone new walked into the dim light. Laurent. The man had a determined look on his face as he pointed his pistol at his brother.
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Only one more chapter to go! I had an unexpected interruption in my writing yesterday, or this would have been longer, and with the finale.