Note: Quote is from Woodkid's "Iron" (if you haven't seen the video, watch it. It's effing awesome).
Chapter Ten
The steady burst of snow is burning my hands
I'm frozen to the bone, I am
A million miles from home, I'm walking away
I can't recall your eyes, your face
Athos' arm felt as if it were on fire. He acted on instinct and punched the dog repeatedly in its face, but if anything it clamped down harder. Aramis was on his feet now, he aimed a hefty kick at the dog's side. It whined, and on the third blow it finally released Athos' arm. He clutched it tightly to his chest and scrambled across the the ground to their bags. He needed a weapon… The dog's attention was now on Aramis, it snapped its jaws and made to rip at him with sharp little claws. For his part Aramis was viciously kicking at the beast, desperately trying to keep his arms out of the way of its teeth. Just as the dog reared up and launched at Aramis with outstretched paws and slathering maw, Athos felt his fingers brush against his dagger.
Aramis cried out and fell back, but an agonised yelp rent the air. When the young musketeer hit the ground the dog landed on top of him, a dead weight, with Athos' dagger protruding from its thick neck. Aramis quickly pushed it away and drew the dagger out with a sickening wet sound… warm blood began to pool on the cold ground. They hardly had a chance to breathe before another two hounds attacked. Aramis made short work of his, as it leapt up he thrust forwards with the dagger, striking its throat. The dog whined weakly as it slipped away into death. Now without a weapon Athos reached out with his bare hands. He caught the dog by the throat and held back its straining, snapping jaws. Though he couldn't escape the claws tearing at his chest… Adrenaline and anger lent him the strength to squeeze the dog's neck. He imagined the cardinal between his hands, and his grip became enough to shatter bone. Feeling its breath being cut off, the dog writhed and tried to escape, but Athos was the one growling now. The dog was an innocent obeying its master, perhaps the same could be said of Treville who was chasing them down. But when you were attacked, you had to end the threat. As Athos squeezed the life from the ignorant creature between his hands, the urge to stand and fight took him. Perhaps when they next met Treville they should face fire with fire…
Finally, Athos felt the dog go limp, and he dropped its lifeless body to the ground. He scrubbed an arm across his sweat streaked face and turned to meet Aramis' awed gaze. The young musketeer was sitting on the hard ground, staring up as if he had just witnessed Hercules defeat the Nemean Lion. But Athos caught the sight of flickering torches through the trees, as ever there was no time to linger. He went to haul Aramis to his feet.
"Did you… did you just strangle a dog?" Aramis asked breathlessly.
"Yes… Well, as Porthos has demonstrated often enough - hands are perfectly adequate weapons."
A dark look seemed to pass over Aramis' face as they staggered away from the scene of carnage. Three dogs lay dead, two amidst growing pools of their own blood. Athos and Aramis themselves were covered in it, as well as their own. The adrenaline was beginning to ebb away, and Athos suddenly felt the pain of his arm and the tiredness of his limbs. But they were not out of danger yet. In the distance several voices called out for their dogs. Athos wanted to put a little more space between them before stopping.
"Your arm…" Aramis' whispered hoarsely in the darkness.
"Not now. We'll stop in a moment. Those men are still far too close."
The sound of a small stream running nearby was music to Athos' ears. If they followed it along they could wash their wounds when the men were left behind. As the two trudged on, dark spots started to dance before Athos' eyes, but he told himself it was just shadows amongst the trees. When his leg gave out and he dropped to one knee Aramis' hard voice crossed the darkness.
"That's it. We're stopping, this is far enough."
"No… not safe." Athos' tongue felt heavy in his head.
"We're even less safe with you bleeding out all over the forest floor…" Aramis' features could hardly be made out in the dark, or was it his sight failing?
Athos found himself being stripped of his shirt. He was propped against a tree trunk and his arm was being tightly wrapped a moment later. The sound of Aramis coughing reached his ears, he made a note to say something about that when his mouth worked properly. As it was, he was drifting away…
~oOo~
When he came to Athos found Aramis curled up against his side, shivering hard. It was cold, but he didn't seem to have enough energy to shiver. Delicately he put his uninjured arm around the young musketeer, but the action seemed to wake him. Aramis jerked from sleep suddenly, his eyes searched around before realisation seeped in.
Aramis cleared his throat and pushed himself upright. "How is your arm?"
It hurt, but there was nothing to be done about that. He would have to play Aramis at his own game, he didn't want his friend worrying.
"It's fine."
"I've cleaned and wrapped it, but it could really do with stitching." Aramis ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed.
"No matter, as long as it still works…" Athos wiggled his fingers and tried to keep from wincing. "... well, it mostly works."
Aramis gave a worn smile and went to retrieve some bits of food from their bag. Their bloodied shirts lay to one side, Athos noted they had some crisp, clean ones on, no doubt from Tilda. At least they hadn't been lost.
"And what about you?" Aramis looked at Athos' question in confusion. "Did you clean your own wounds?"
"Of course. I'm not foolish enough to let dog bites fester... but it's all quite superficial." Aramis' eyes dropped to Athos' arm. "Not like you."
"I'll be alright. It's just a flesh wound."
"A deep one." Aramis countered.
"I've had worse."
"And we've had actual medical supplies to deal with 'worse'. If this gets worse I won't be able to do anything…" Worry creased Aramis' features.
"Stop fretting, just let me rest a while and I'll be fine." Athos lay back against the tree, it wasn't comfortable, but he felt he could fall asleep on a bed of nails.
A faint smile pulled at the edge of Aramis' mouth. "Now you know how I feel, having you ask after me all the time."
"Well, I promise I'll worry less if you worry less."
"Deal." Aramis was quick to answer.
"Good, and now for the resting…"
Aramis' eyes slipped to one side, he stared fearfully at the trees. "We shouldn't stop too long. They might come back to search now it's light."
"Quite... I don't want to be another dog's dinner."
"Sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to go."
Athos gave in to the exhaustion that wracked his body. He was asleep moments after closing his eyes. But sleep gave no rest. Athos was chased around his dreams by barking dogs and the scent of forget me nots. Eventually he flinched awake when the bared teeth of a hound lunged towards his face. Shocked from sleep as he was Athos came to with his heart racing. He gulped down a few breaths and took in the quiet woodland scene. There were no dogs. No men… No her. Just Aramis. He sat some distance away, hugging his legs with his back to Athos. There was a slight shiver to his frame.
Athos cleared his throat. "Time to go…"
Aramis simply sat frozen on powdered ground.
"Aramis? We should move on."
He did not so much as twitch.
So Athos tried to get to his own feet. He winced as pain flared from the wound in his arm, and then he pressed his palm to the tree trunk, taking a moment to steady himself. Athos approached slowly, step by careful step. When he reached Aramis' side he found the young musketeer wasn't hugging his knees, his knees were drawn up, but his hands were tight around a pistol. Aramis stared into the trees, his eyes were vacant but intense, he seemed to be in another world.
"Aramis?"
Athos went to reach a hand out, but just as he did so Aramis suddenly came back to himself. He drew in a sharp breath and flinched back before making a move as if he were about to raise the pistol. Realising it was Athos he just managed to stop himself in time.
"Are you alright?" Athos asked.
Aramis gave a sigh of relief and rubbed at his eyes before blinking heavily. "Yes… just tired, that's all."
"Shall I take that?" Athos indicated the pistol.
Aramis looked as if he were about to object, but a fleeting moment of concern passed across his face and he gingerly held the gun out. Athos took it without a word. He had seen that look on Aramis' face before, it had been the first time they camped in snow after Savoy. The young musketeer had recovered his spirits once they returned to the garrison, but ever after he avoided overnight missions in the snow. A tendril of worry unfurled in Athos' heart. There was no nearby garrison out here. There would be no avoiding the night either.
"How is your arm?" Aramis interrupted Athos' thoughts with a weary voice.
"Holding up…"
"Let me have a look."
Athos offered his arm without an argument. He told himself he was setting a good example for Aramis, but it also provided his friend with a distraction.
"See how I submit to your ministrations without so much as a scowl?" Athos tried to make his tone light.
"Well, we can't all be such good patients." The corner of Aramis' mouth twitched into a smile as he probed Athos' wound. "It looks good. No sign of infection, not yet anyway. Are you alright to carry on?"
"I'm just waiting for you."
They helped each other up and gathered their bags. Not wanting to start a fire to burn their bloodied shirts, Aramis cast them into the stream. The water would carry their shirts away, and take the scent of blood with it.
Athos started out at a good pace, but he soon slowed down to a trudge. His cold and wet feet were most unpleasant, and exhaustion covered him like a blanket. Aramis had fished out a cloak to wrap around his shoulders. They had only one between them now, the other gifted to them by Tilda had been lost during their capture. Athos had tried to get Aramis to wear it for a little while, the young musketeer was trying to hide the fact he was coughing, but he refused and insisted Athos was more in need. Aramis had drawn ahead. He was not exactly forging a strong path, but his trudge was a little quicker. The young musketeer brandished Athos' sword in one hand, his own having been lost along with the cloak. He held it up, as if waiting to be set upon. Athos suspected he wasn't afraid of the men that had been pursuing them the night before. It was another attack he feared, one that had long passed into memory leaving scars in its wake.
"Well, we didn't make it very far to Spain." Athos took a stab at making small talk. It wasn't exactly his forte, but he needed to distract Aramis. Suddenly he missed Porthos. Porthos was never short of something to say. No doubt he would have been complaining incessantly about his wet feet. He would have been able to distract Aramis. He would have been able to ground the young musketeer, and keep him here.
For a moment Athos feared Aramis wouldn't reply, but then a tired voice drifted back. "We can still head south… Where else are we going to go?"
"I would settle for anywhere with a warm fire and good food. But south is as good a direction as any. Can you imagine the sun's warmth? I've almost forgotten what it is to be warm." The sun might have been shining, but it was a weak light that gave no warmth to the world. "To think we used to stand on guard in the blistering heat, desperate for a cool breeze."
"Summer seems a lifetime away." Aramis spoke so lifelessly, as if his heart wasn't in it.
"It will come again, it always does." Whether they would be alive to see it was another matter…
They walked on for what felt like hours. The trees were not thinning around them, surely the woods must give way at some point? Eventually Aramis stopped replying, and Athos stopped searching for words. They struggled on in silence, until Athos called for them to stop and rest. They took a moment to eat and check wounds. Athos managed to get the cloak around Aramis' shoulders for a while. He coughed into the back of his hand and made as if he were clearing his throat.
"We should keep moving. We need to get out of here by nightfall."
Athos raised an eyebrow. It would be better to spend the night under cover in the woods. For his part he had given up on breaking free of the trees and finding shelter in a village before nightfall. Did Aramis still hope? Or was he just desperately running from the ghosts of Savoy?
"I doubt we'll find shelter elsewhere before the sun goes down." Athos spoke evenly.
"We can try."
Aramis got up and helped Athos to his feet, the cloak was back around his shoulders moments later. And so they continued on.
Once again Aramis drew ahead, and Athos watched his friend with more than a little concern. He shivered slightly and held the sword as if it were his last candle against the dark. Every little sound had his head whipping around and the blade raised, ready to meet an attack. When the light started failing Aramis tried to speed up, but he couldn't keep the pace. The temperature dropped, and it seemed to slow him even more. And then he stopped to stare at the ground.
"What is it? Have you found something?"
Stiffly, Aramis bent and reached out to pick something up. Though Athos could see nothing in the light dusting of snow. Abruptly he shot back up and shook his head.
"Aramis?"
"Nothing… There's nothing." He wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered.
"I think we should stop. It will be pitch black before long, we can't go blundering about in the dark."
Aramis took a moment to look around at the trees as if they conspired against him, and Athos took the chance to throw the cloak around his shoulders. Aramis didn't object, which only served to worry Athos all the more.
"We can… go a bit further." Aramis' words were broken up by chattering teeth.
"No, we need to rest. I'm going to start a fire, we have just enough light to find some wood." Athos started casting his eyes about.
"You can't. They'll find us!" Aramis spoke with alarm.
"We need the warmth." Athos was being careful to say 'we' and not 'you', lest Aramis object all the more. In truth he feared the cold was beginning to affect Aramis, and combined with his Savoy anxiety it meant nothing good. "It's safe enough, there's nobody about this far in. We're more at risk from exposure than attack right now."
"I'll keep watch then." Aramis' grip tightened on the sword.
"No, you'll rest. I'll keep watch."
"I have to… If I sleep… They'll come..." In the dying light, with his eyes wide and expression lost, Aramis seemed so young.
"Do you trust me?" Athos let the soldier in him speak.
"To the very ends of the earth."
"Then rest. On my honour, I'll keep you safe." Athos squeezed his shoulder, and Aramis went quiet.
It was no easy job lighting a fire with the wood so damp. But Athos was determined, and eventually a small fire came to be crackling on the ground between them. Athos covered Aramis with the cloak and noted he was wheezing a little. Thankfully his breath seemed to ease as he drifted into sleep. Athos sat watching him across the fire, while gratefully soaking in its warmth. Aramis twitched and flinched, when he started tossing and turning Athos wondered whether to wake him. His face was creased with a frown and his sleep looked anything but peaceful. Eventually when he shot up with a cry Athos went over to him.
Aramis searched around in a panic, breathing heavily. Athos sat next to him and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders.
"They're dead… they're all dead…" Aramis' eyes were wide with alarm.
"There's nobody here but me Aramis."
For a moment the young musketeer looked at Athos as if he were trying to work out who he was. Then Aramis let out a long breath and seemed to relax slightly. "Athos…"
"That's right, now let's both try to get some sleep shall we?" Athos pulled a bit of the cloak over himself and settled down with Aramis. Hopefully with the warmth of a body next to him, Aramis would realise he wasn't sleeping with twenty dead men.
Suddenly Aramis' head shot up. "I have to watch."
"No you don't. We're safe." Athos tried to pull his friend back down, but he resisted.
"There'll be an ambush. Don't think that there won't. That's how it happened. We were safe before. The forest seemed so quiet, so peaceful, and then..." Aramis' words came out in a rush, all at once.
"This is different."
"How?"
"I'm here, and I've given you my word. You'll wake up, I won't settle for anything else." Athos tried to fix him with a steady eye in the flickering light.
This time Aramis let himself be pulled back down. Athos wrapped an arm around him. "You're safe…" he whispered before closing his eyes.
When next Athos woke it was morning. More snow had fallen during the night, it covered the cloak that was wrapped tightly around him... but it was wrapped around him alone. Athos looked up to find Aramis standing on the other side of the burnt out fire, staring at the trees. The young musketeer held a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, he was standing in nothing but his shirt.
"Aramis?"
How long had he been there like that?
Athos got to his feet and went to throw the cloak around Aramis' shoulders. Gently he pried the weapons from Aramis' grip. It seemed to bring him from his silent vigil.
"Are you ready to go?" Aramis looked dangerously pale.
Athos was on the verge of insisting they eat and rest first, but he could eat as they walked. He was suddenly as eager as Aramis to leave these woods behind.
They continued on as before - Aramis trudging ahead, Athos watching with worry behind. The young musketeer hadn't even wanted to look at Athos' arm. Though it stung with pain it seemed to remain free of infection - thank goodness for small mercies. But Aramis was always keen to see to other's hurts before himself. Now he was stumbling ahead in his eagerness to get out of the woods. Though Aramis moved slowly it was still done with an element of haste that saw his heavy footsteps betray him. Every now and then he would stagger to one side, just as a horse spooks at something unexpected. Aramis put a stray hand to his temple and seemed surprised to find nothing there when he drew it away. Then, as he trudged on, Aramis pushed the cloak away from his shoulders, letting it drop to the snow covered ground behind him.
Athos retrieved it as he passed by and made an effort to catch Aramis up. He tried to slip the cloak back around his friend's shoulders, but Aramis pushed his hands away.
"Marsac… leave it."
That had Athos frowning with concern.
"Aramis, you have to keep warm. Put it on." Though he was shivering himself in the cold, Aramis had exposed himself to it for longer. And this confusion was not a good sign.
"I'm warm enough, I said leave it." Aramis' voice was laced with an uncharacteristic hardness.
"Stop Aramis… Look at me." Thankfully he did as he was asked. "Where are you?"
Aramis frowned. "What do you mean? We're in Savoy... it's a training exercise, remember?"
"No, we're not." Athos tried to keep the panic from his voice. "That was many years ago. Who are you with?"
"It's me and you, and through there are the other twenty." Aramis pointed a hand to the trees. "We'll have to hurry or they'll start without us."
"There's nobody else here. It's just me and you… do you know my name?"
Aramis took a moment to answer as if he were unsure. "... Marsac."
"No Aramis. I'm Athos, and we are far away from Savoy." Athos put the cloak around his shoulders and gripped them tightly. "You must keep this on."
"But I'm warm… I'm too hot." Aramis made to pull the ties of his shirt undone, but his fingers were clumsy as they trembled.
Athos batted his hands away and went to rub vigorously at Aramis' arms. "It's the cold, it's fooling your mind. We have to get you warm."
Aramis pushed at Athos' arms and stepped away. "I'm already warm…"
"No, you're not, you're frozen." Athos followed him closely. "Come and sit down, I'll start a fire."
"We haven't got time, leave me alone Marsac…" Once again Aramis batted at Athos' outstretched arm and shied away.
But Athos wouldn't let him get far. He took a firmer grip on Aramis' arm. What was the best way to get him to comply? Play along with the delusion or try to wake him from it?
As it was Athos did not get a chance to try either approach. Aramis reacted suddenly and violently to the hard grip on his arm.
"Leave me alone!" Aramis tore his arm away and his hand became a fist.
Athos would have easily dodged the blow, were his reactions not slow through being tired and cold. As it was Aramis cracked him hard across the face and darkness descended.
Note: After a comment by Boooyakasha I realise I've ended another chapter with Athos whump. That's three in a row now. I'm sorry, it just sort of... happens XD