Once the sun had set and the camp was surrounded by darkness, with only the flickering of the fires to light the way, the three musketeers made their move.
Surprise was key, as well as stealth. Athos was in front with Porthos bringing up the rear. They slipped effortless down the banking and into the cover of the trees.
Aramis had promised not to do most of the heavy stuff, allowing Athos and Porthos to handle most of the guards due to his injury. He whistled, catching the attention of the two guards stood by the entrance of the camp. They turned to see him leaning against the tree with a smile on his face.
"Pleasant evening tonight isn't it," he began and before the guards could even lift their pistols at him, both Athos and Porthos had slammed their own against the Spaniards heads. The two dropped to the ground in seconds and the musketeers continued on their way.
They passed the horses, ducking down slightly out of sight of the two Spaniards who were currently feeding the animals.
"That's their tent," Athos whispered as they came to the tree D'artagnan had been thrown up against earlier that day.
Athos quickly leant back, his arm going out to push Aramis and Porthos back as a Spaniard came walking passed, humming to himself as he did rounds. He paused, titling his head in the musketeers' direction.
Athos was about to make a move when Porthos suddenly snuck up behind the guard and quickly threw an arm around the man's neck, squeezing tightly. Aramis moved to cover the Spaniard's mouth and nose to stop him alerting the others.
They dragged the Spaniard out of sight after he had passed out before moving to the tent the prisoners were in.
Sneaking around they took out the two guards stood watching effortlessly, dragging them around the tent and out of sight before moving in.
Porthos stayed as guard, the best out of the three of them when it came to street fighting. He would stay outside and keep look out, taking out any guards that came by without using his pistols or sword to minimise the amount of noise.
Athos pulled the flap of the tent open and entered, Aramis following after him. The second the two walked in they were met with shocked expressions.
"Athos. Aramis," D'artagnan breathed, the look on his face was one of pure disbelief. They both froze for a second, taking in D'artagnan's weak form.
"So you see them too? Thought I was losing it for a second there," Beaumont mumbled before pulling himself to stand quickly, dusting himself off with Duval following close up behind.
"What...How did you... How?" D'artagnan struggled to ask as Aramis and Athos began cutting them all free.
"Followed your trail," Athos simply said as he moved over to cut Duval free.
"But all I left was a feather," D'artagnan simply stated and Aramis glanced over at him with sorrow in his eyes.
"And the Spaniards trail," Athos then explained and D'artagnan caught on instantly to what he was saying. They had followed the trail of dead bodies, dead comrades, heading towards the camp.
Aramis and Athos knelt down on either side of him, both pausing to take in the sight of their beaten and bruised brother.
"It's good to have you back," Aramis said, leaning over and pulling D'artagnan into a gentle hug while trying to stop the tears of relief from running free.
"For a second there I didn't think you'd show up," D'artagnan joked, a small smirk making its way onto his busted lip. His lips maybe curved up into a smile but from how the pain shone brightly in his eyes Athos could tell D'artagnan wasn't entirely joking.
Athos simply placed a hand on the back of D'artagnan's head, pulling his brother close and placing a soft and quick kiss on D'artagnan's forehead.
He pulled back to meet D'artagnan's eyes, wanting to put everything right there in that tent. He wanted to tell D'artagnan how sorry he was that he didn't stop their capture; that the three of them hadn't been coping with a member down. He wanted to tell D'artagnan how guilty he felt about letting his brother down.
However, the Captain side of him screamed to him to get moving. Porthos was on guard but that didn't mean they had enough time to simply chat. They had to keep moving before someone came and drew unwanted attention to them.
"Let's get you up and out of here," Athos finally said and the two moved to help him stand. D'artagnan slung his arm over Athos' shoulder and he helped him walk out of the tent.
"Porthos," D'artagnan breathed, a smile growing on his face once his eyes landed on the larger musketeer.
"D'artagnan," Porthos replied, moving over to D'artagnan's other side and helping him walk.
"I'm so happy to see you three," D'artagnan said and Porthos grinned.
"You have no idea how happy we are to see you," he replied and D'artagnan smiled softly, glancing towards the ground before looking back up. His eyes landed on the tent he had seen Antonio walk in an hour ago before he was dragged back to the prisoner tent.
His heart started to pound against his chest, adrenaline suddenly hitting him and pumping through his blood. He had to keep his word; he was going to be the one to send that man to hell.
Before he could think of a distraction to allow him to slip off towards the tent, they ran head on into eight Spanish soldiers, all having been walking back to their tents after a late supper.
"Gentlemen," Aramis said with a smile, opening his arms out in a friendly manner. "Shall we talk about this?" He questioned before the Spaniards quickly withdrew their weapons. "Apparently not," Aramis said.
Athos quickly put himself between D'artagnan and the Spaniard coming at them from the front. He drew his sword out and met the Spaniard's blade head on, metal hitting metal with a grunt sounding from the Spaniard. Athos twisted to stop the hit from another Spaniard, duelling two with ease.
Porthos turned to the right to protect D'artagnan from one side, drawing his sword and diving straight into the battle against the Spaniards.
Aramis pulled out his dagger and threw it back to Duval while passing his pistol to Beaumont. He then turned just in time to duck the oncoming swing of a sword to his head. He lunged for the Spaniard, completely ignoring his still healing wound and wrapping his arms around the man's waist, throwing them both to the ground with him getting the upper hand.
A pistol fired and a cry of pain echoed out in the night, Duval falling to the ground and grabbing his thigh.
"Duval!" Beaumont shouted before raising Aramis' pistol to take out the Spaniard who had fired.
Lamar was already by Duval's side, grabbing Aramis' fallen dagger and throwing it to take out another enemy. The rest of the musketeers suddenly joined the fight, using their bare fists to bring down the Spaniards.
Attention drawn away from him, D'artagnan did his best to sneak through the battle and then run with all the strength he had left into Antonio's tent.
He could have sworn he heard Athos shout his name but with the buzzing in his ears he didn't register it as a cry of concern.
D'artagnan pulled the flap of the tent open to see Antonio stumbling from his bed, having woken up from the pistol firing and moving to grab his sword that rested against the table.
D'artagnan bet the Captain to it, grabbing the sword and turning to press the blade against Antonio's neck.
"On your knees," D'artagnan growled, the adrenaline pumping through him was the only thing keeping him from falling to his own knees. Antonio swallowed hard, the tip of his blade pressed hard against his throat.
"You don't want to do this D'artagnan," Antonio said, starting to try and manipulate the musketeer.
"On your knees. Now," D'artagnan warned, the anger rising quickly within him and causing his grip on Antonio's sword to tighten.
The Captain obeyed, simply lowering slowly down to his knees and holding his hands up slightly in surrender.
"Please," he began to beg.
"Surrender or die it doesn't make a difference to me," Athos growled down at the Spaniard, his sword at the man's throat. The Spaniard quickly lifted his hands up in surrender and Athos granted it, knocking the man out before he moved off, stalking through the camp once again.
He got to the tent D'artagnan had ran, or stumbled, into with Porthos and Aramis following close behind him. The rest of the musketeers stayed behind to take out the two remaining Spaniards and watch out for anymore coming their way after hearing the commotion of their fight.
Athos came to a stop when he found D'artagnan stood with Antonio's sword in his hands, pressing the blade up to the Captain's neck. Athos couldn't tell if D'artagnan shook from anger or from the physical pain he was currently in.
He took a breath before slowly walking forwards, Aramis and Porthos staying back.
"D'artagnan."
Wow, thank you so much for the reviews, I'm so glad you guys are liking this story. I hope this chapter was good and I'm sorry for the cliffhanger ;)