Chapter Eight

The young mercenaries appalling footwork finally proved to be his undoing. Athos had been forced to shove the scarred man away when he stepped in closer. Using the moment's respite Athos swung his sword towards the younger man who was pulling his overstretched right leg back. The point of the blade struck the man on the arm and sliced deeply across his thin doublet. The man gasped, Athos was quick to thrust his main gauche into the man's stomach and kick him backwards.

But the few seconds he had been concentrating on the younger man proved costly. The scarred man managed to slice Athos' arm in a similar move, but Athos was able to move back and avoid any more than a deep cut to his right arm.

Athos was tiring, and now he was injured. He dropped his main gauche and passed the sword to his uninjured left hand, holding his right arm across himself as defensively as he could.

He was unsure if d'Artagnan was close by.

Athos would have liked a little assistance. He knew he had a reputation as a good, if not the best Musketeer swordsman but at that moment Athos felt far from the best.

There had been a few mercenaries around, but they were either injured or had turned to looting before running off. As far as Athos was aware, he and the scarred mercenary were the only men left fighting.

Athos started to wonder if running away was an option?

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'Try to walk a bit Porthos,' said d'Artagnan as he shifted the weight of his disorientated friend slightly.

'Sorry,' slurred Porthos as made more of an effort to walk on his own.

When he had seen Porthos knocked flat by the second blast d'Artagnan had been lucky to avoid a fleeing mercenary who nearly ran straight into him. He had to fight off two men who appeared to want to try their luck with the downed Musketeer, but d'Artagnan had made short work of them both.

The chaos and confusion caused by the two blasts had been enough to send the mercenaries into a panic. A couple of the men had shouted out something to indicate they thought a whole garrison of soldiers was onto them. D'Artagnan was pleased the plan had worked, even it had come at a cost. He knew Aramis had been injured but had no idea where he had gone and Porthos had obviously been affected by the shock of the blast. D'Artagnan knew he had to get his friend out of the way whilst he could before he potentially wandered off on his own. It would not do for them to lose two of their friends in the surrounding woods.

D'Artagnan had glanced about looking for Athos. He could not see his friend, d'Artagnan hoped Athos had gone off after Aramis.

D'Artagnan had hauled Porthos to his feet and started to make his way towards the shepherd's hut, hoping to spot Aramis on the way if Athos had not already found him.

'You're not going direct, are you?' asked Porthos as he continued to make an effort to walk on his own.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'no, I do know we need to make sure we're not being followed, but I think they've all run off anyway. Your plan worked.'

Porthos huffed out a non-committal agreement.

'Where are you hurt?'

D'Artagnan wanted to keep Porthos awake and more likely to walk on his own. The injured man was already starting to get heavy again, making less and less of an effort to walk.

'Just bruising I think,' Porthos mumbled back, 'my head...ears ringing...really want to sleep.'

'In a bit. We're not far off now.'

Porthos managed to look up as they reached the clearing, d'Artagnan saw his friend smile slightly when the shepherd's hut came into view.

'I will happily take one of Aramis' pain killers…'

D'Artagnan wondered if Porthos had forgotten that Aramis had been injured and was missing?

They reached the door, d'Artagnan had to shift Porthos slightly to get his hand free to reach for the door handle. As the door swung open, the sight inside the small hut made both men freeze.

Treville was sat awkwardly on the edge of the small bed, pinning Aramis down with one arm, his hand over Aramis' mouth, whilst pointing a gun at the doorway. Aramis was mumbling and struggling, despite an obvious injury to his side.

Treville visibly sagged when he realised, he was not facing the enemy.

Porthos, who had finally managed to stand alone for a few seconds moved to lean heavily on the door frame. D'Artagnan quickly grabbed him again as he began to sink down.

'Not in the doorway, Porthos.'

Treville released Aramis who continued to struggle. D'Artagnan noticed that his friend had been tied to the bed with belts, he glanced at Treville.

'Sorry, I...he's confused,' said Treville who looked as though he had been caught doing something wrong.

'Is he badly hurt?' asked Porthos as d'Artagnan helped him to sit on the floor next to the bed.

D'Artagnan was amused that Porthos seemed to have forgotten his own injuries, although the pain was still evident in his expression.

'He's lost blood, I don't think he knows he's safe...he's still trying to rescue me,' said Treville with a sigh.

D'Artagnan realised his Captain was starting to tire after the burst of energy he would have enjoyed when he managed to escape. He disliked seeing his Captain, who was usually so sure of himself, a little overwhelmed.

'Let me sort Porthos out with a pain killer, then I'll help you clean and dress the wound to Aramis.'

Treville nodded his agreement to the plan. Porthos did not argue but continued to look at his friend with concern.

'Athos?' asked Treville as he went back to trying to keep the non-compliant Aramis still.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'I thought he had gone after Aramis. I'll go back for him once Aramis is sorted.'

'I can help with Aramis,' said Porthos.

'No,' said Treville. 'You are barely awake.'

'I'm sure he's fine-' d'Artagnan started to reply before he was interrupted.

'There's going to be a distraction…'

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis who was staring at Treville. The injured man was still pulling at his bindings but his efforts to escape had grown weak.

'I know,' said Treville quietly.

Aramis, who had been agitated slowly sank back onto the small bed. They watched in silence for a few seconds as Aramis finally passed out.

'He was shot by one of the men. He had a scar on his face. Aramis had nearly got out when the man started to question him,' said d'Artagnan as he handed Porthos the small vial that contained a pain killer.

'That would have been Herrera, their leader,' said Treville as he started to clean the wound to his Musketeer.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. D'Artagnan cleaned and dressed the wound to Aramis' side. Treville assisted by manipulating the unconscious man to sit when d'Artagnan needed to wrap the bandage around him. Porthos sat watching them work, his eyelids drooping as the fatigue began to catch him up. D'Artagnan knew he would start to suffer himself once they had all been sorted out. None of them had slept in many hours. But first, they had to find out what had happened to Athos.

'I knew it would be you four,' said Treville as they finished their ministrations.

D'Artagnan smiled, 'the King called Athos in for a secret meeting. A meeting everyone knew about. He told Athos that if we could not rescue you, we were to kill you.'

'It would have been for the best,' said Treville, his expression serious. 'The information I have really is that important, it cannot fall into the wrong hands.'

'The King also said that if we failed, we would all be condemned.'

Treville's expression turned to one of annoyance. He shook his head with a sigh.

'It's a good job you succeeded then.'

D'Artagnan nodded.

A noise outside caused d'Artagnan and Treville both to look towards the door. Porthos, who had almost fallen asleep sat up straight again.

'At least you won't have to go and look for him,' said Treville as he reached for the door to let Athos in.

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The relief Treville felt when he heard what he had thought was Athos outside the hut was short lived. As he opened the wooden door, he was shocked to find himself facing Herrera a gun in the mercenaries hand aimed at his former captive. The man was grinning. His scar twisting as his haggard face wrinkled.

Herrera moved the gun slightly to point it at d'Artagnan when the Musketeer took a couple of steps forward. D'Artagnan stopped his hands out submissively. Porthos had sat forward, but not tried to stand up.

'I see my aim was not good enough,' said Herrera with a glance at Aramis who remained unconscious. 'Although I seem to have been able to deprive you of one of your men, with one on his way to join him, and that one,' Herrera nodded towards Porthos, 'does not look as though he is in very good shape either.'

Treville wondered what had happened to Athos. Herrera was implying he had dealt with the swordsman in such a way that he would not cause the mercenary any further problems.

'I will have my money,' Herrera said, his lips twitching into an ugly sneer. 'Come with me without a fuss and I will not shoot your young soldier here.

Treville knew that d'Artagnan would lay down his life for him, all his men would and Treville hated the thought. He knew he would not be able to reach the mercenary before he had time to shoot d'Artagnan. There was no chance of the man missing, he was only stood a couple of yards away. Too far away to try tackling to the ground but close enough to kill d'Artagnan.

Thinking fast and remembering what d'Artagnan had said about them being told by the King to kill him if they could not rescue him, Treville took matters into his own hands. Grabbing the dagger that Aramis had given him, he held the blade to his own throat, pressing the tip into his skin. He heard d'Artagnan gasp and shift slightly but the Musketeer did not otherwise move.

Herrera kept his gun on d'Artagnan but stared at him, indecision in his eyes. They all knew that if Treville was dead there would be nothing left to bargain with. D'Artagnan would not hesitate to attack Herrera, and Treville suspected that despite his injury, Porthos would not be far behind.

'I'll shoot him,' said Herrera, 'I won't kill him, I'll just maim him...would you like that on your conscious?'

Treville knew he was at an impasse with the mercenary. He thought fast, desperately trying to think of a way out that did not involve his own death or that of his men.

When the answer came, it did not come from Treville.

Herrera, who was stood just outside the door to the hut, one foot resting on the low step, was bundled to the floor so suddenly it made both Treville and d'Artagnan flinch, fearing the gun would go off.

A series of thumps signalled the gun skittering harmlessly across the floor of the hut as Herrera dropped it and was forced to deal with his attacker.

Treville watched for a few seconds in shock as Athos pummelled the man into the floor. Athos threw punches indiscriminately at the mercenary. It took Herrera a few seconds to make any kind of retaliation, he managed to grab Athos' right wrist pulling it upwards forcing Athos closer to him. Herrera managed to twist Athos over onto his back, leaving him compromised and easier to assault. Herrera did not hesitate to take advantage. The two men continued to fight at close quarters trading blows quickly.

Treville noticed the blood on Athos doublet and knew he would only be able to sustain the fight for a matter of seconds before the uninjured Herrera got over the initial attack. As he stepped forward d'Artagnan stopped him and pushed him back, before turning to help Athos. Treville knew his Musketeers were still following their orders. He was too valuable, and they held no value. At least not to the King, not when affairs of state were concerned.

As d'Artagnan was about to grab Herrera and pull him off Athos, both the brawling men stilled.

A deadly silence fell.

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