Chapter 8

Jacqueline softly stroked Siroc's blonde locks, murmuring soothingly to him in the hopes that a familiar voice might rouse him from his catatonic state. Unfortunately, her efforts were proving rather futile. Seeming hours had passed, and there was still no indication that his condition would be changing anytime soon. Bernard…Beltranus…whatever his name was…had really done a number on her comrade…had inflicted a torment upon him the likes of which she could scarcely dare to even imagine. And what's worse, she couldn't do a thing to prevent it…Bernard had made certain of that. Jacqueline growled, hating this feeling of utter helplessness and dreading what the elder immortal might have in store for her come dawn.

"Is it me, or is this place even filthier than it was the last time we were down here?" That voice! Her head shot up, eyes darting over to the door.

"It's not just you, amigo. Too bad Siroc hasn't finished working on that miracle cleanser. We could really use it right about now." For the first time in hours, Jacqueline allowed herself a small smile. She should've known those two wouldn't be able to stay away. Carefully setting Siroc's head aside, she rose to her feet and rushed over to the door.

"Over here!" she called. In moments, the tiny window near the top of the door opened and she found herself being drawn into a rather awkward--though not unpleasant--kiss by D'Artagnan. "Took you two long enough," she said, once they parted.

"Sorry, but the captain had us confined to the barracks. I think he was afraid we'd do something rash."

She arched an eyebrow. "This isn't rash?"

"Actually, amiga, we're here on the capitan's orders."

"Really?"

The Gascon nodded. "How are you two holding up?"

She sighed. "I'm doing about as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. Siroc, though…"

Ramon's face appeared in the small window, having shoved D'Artagnan out of the way. "Dios Mio! What happened?"

"I don't know….Bernard dragged him off to some other room for awhile, and when he was brought back…." She stepped aside, causing the Spaniard to gasp as he caught a good glimpse of his battered comrade.

"I-Is he…?"

"Alive? Far as I can tell. But his mind seems to be elsewhere, and I'm not sure when--or even if--he'll be coming back…it's as if he's trapped there." She returned to the window, looking out at her comrades once more. "Please tell me that you two are here to break us out."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. I'd love to, you know that, but Captain Duval gave us strict orders. We're to find where you are and report back to him. That's all."

"Oh, hang the captain! Bernard's coming back for me at dawn, and I'm pretty sure he intends to sacrifice me as part of some ritual…like Mazarin was planning to do to Gerard last year. Personally, I'd prefer that Siroc and I were as far from here as possible by that time."

The Gascon sighed, glancing up and down the corridor. "Well, perhaps I could…" He pulled his dagger, preparing to work it into the lock, only to have Ramon take it away. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same question, amigo. Are you looking to get us all killed?"

"So you're saying I should stay here and wait for Bernard to have his way with me?" Jacqueline asked, glaring at the Spaniard.

"Of course not. I'm certain the capitan has a plan. And once we tell him what you told us…well…I'm pretty sure we'll have you out of here long before that coward can try anything."

"I hope so."

"We will…even if Ramon and I have to come back and break you out ourselves. In the meantime, maybe you can figure out how to bring Siroc back to us."

She nodded, even though nothing she'd tried so far had worked. The Gascon returned the nod and, with a sad smile, closed the small window. With them gone, Jacqueline returned to Siroc's side, more determined than ever to get her comrade back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"If that bastard harms even one hair on her head…"

"Don't worry, D'Artagnan. He won't get the chance."

"He better not." Practically growling, D'Artagnan charged down the corridor towards the exit. Ramon had to sprint to keep up with his single-minded companion. Unfortunately, the Gascon's anger blinded him to his surroundings, and he soon found himself running headlong into a couple of red-coated guards. One of them, a lanky creature with rat-like features, immediately pulled his blade and stuck the tip underneath D'Artagnan's chin. His squat, corpulent companion did likewise to the Spaniard.

"What are you musketeer brats doing down here?" Rat-boy demanded.

"Cleaning detail."

He laughed, lowering the blade a bit. "In trouble again, are we?"

D'Artagnan's eyes narrowed, along with his patience. "I fail to see how that's any of your concern."

Rat-boy raised his blade once more, poking it even more insistently into the Gascon's flesh. "You forget your place, boy. The musketeers have no authority within the Bastille."

"That's right," Tubbs chimed in, prodding Ramon with his own blade. The Spaniard shared a look with his comrade as they both covertly reached for the daggers hidden behind their backs. In seconds, the blades were between the legs of the redcoats, pressing into a particularly sensitive portion of their bodies.

"Care to re-think that, muchachos?"

A look of panic crossed the guards' faces. They immediately dropped their swords and put their hands in the air.

"That's better," D'Artagnan grinned. He and Ramon quickly relieved the guards of their pistols and backed them into an empty cell, locking them inside. "Come on. The sooner we get back to the garrison, the better." The Spaniard nodded, and the pair quickly made as discreet an exit as they could.

A half-hour later, the younger musketeers came barreling into Duval's office. "Captain, we--" Realizing that the elder musketeer wasn't alone, D'Artagnan shut his mouth. Duval's guest turned around, eliciting a gasp from the privates. It was the King himself. "My apologies, Sire. We'll come back later."

"Nonsense," Louis said, rising from his chair. "I assume you have news of LePonte and Siroc's whereabouts."

"It's alright, son," Duval nodded. "His Majesty just wants to help."

"Really?"

Louis walked over and placed a hand on D'Artagnan's shoulder. "Of course I do. You four are the bravest, most loyal musketeers I've ever known. Now, what have you found out?"

He sighed. "Captain Bernard has them locked away at the far end of the lower dungeon. Most of the surrounding cells are empty, and the number of guards is surprisingly low for supposed traitors."

"Sounds pretty suspicious," Duval mused. "It's like he's hiding something. Anything else we should know?"

"Just one thing, Capitan. Jacques said that Bernard…or possibly Mazarin himself…is planning some sort of ritual at dawn, with him as the intended victim."

Louis let out an undignified squeak. "Do you really think Bernard would actually sacrifice your comrade to some heathen god?"

"Wouldn't put it past him," D'Artagnan muttered.

"Nor would I, amigo. Look at what he did to Siroc."

"What are you talking about, Private?"

The young musketeers looked up at the sudden intrusion, almost as if they'd forgotten Duval was in the room. "Bernard…he beat him, Capitan…so badly that he seems to have withdrawn into himself. Siroc…it was like he didn't even know we were there."

Duval surprised them all by slamming his fist onto the desk. "What in blazes are we all standing around here for? We're wasting time." Grabbing his sword, the captain headed for the door. "I'm going to go round up the troops. You two stay here with his Highness." On that note, he walked out, not giving them a chance to argue. As soon as he was gone, Louis spoke up.

"Much as I appreciate your captain's concern, I hardly require baby-sitters. Especially not when there are far more useful things you could be doing."

"Like what, Sire?" the Gascon asked.

"Well…it certainly wouldn't hurt to take a look around Siroc's laboratory…see if he's invented anything recently that would give us an advantage over the cardinal's men."

"Excellent idea, your Majesty. Ramon and I will get right on that." Bowing, he and the Spaniard left the office, heading in the direction of the lab.

"Are you sure about this, amigo? Siroc will kill us if we mess up any of his experiments…once he's himself again, I mean."

"I'm sure he'll understand." The lab's heavy door was locked, and Siroc had the only key, so the pair wound up going in through the window. Everything was just as they'd left it the day before, so the pair had no trouble recalling which items the inventor had warned them not, under any circumstances, to go anywhere near. Unfortunately, he had a system of organization that was a complete mystery to his comrades, leaving them hard-pressed to locate anything useful.

"Mira…I think I found something…" Ramon gestured to the rather large trunk he'd located after several minutes of otherwise fruitless searching. Abandoning the papers he'd been examining, D'Artagnan went over to where his comrade stood. Looking down at the chest, he noticed a folded piece of paper attached to the lid and gently pulled it off. He opened the note up and read its contents.

"The Impenetrable….Warning: Has not been tested yet."

"What do you suppose that is?"

D'Artagnan shrugged. "I don't know, but it's the best we've got. We should get this trunk to the captain's office."

"But the note says it hasn't been tested. What if it doesn't work?"

"It's a chance we'll have to take. Desperate times and all that."

"Alright…whatever you say. I just hope this doesn't blow up in our faces."

"You and me both." With that, D'Artagnan unlocked the lab door, then he and Ramon lifted the trunk and hauled it back to the King.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jacqueline leaned back against the wall, Siroc's still form lying across her lap. She'd tried everything she could think of to snap him out of it, but nothing worked. So she finally just smothered him, hoping that a temporary death would be enough to shock him back to reality.

There was a loud gasp, and she glanced down to see the inventor returning to life. He sat up, eyes darting about the room, and Jacqueline breathed a sigh of relief.

"Who…wha…oh gods, it really happened, didn't it?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what 'it' is, but Bernard certainly did something."

"Oh gods," he cried, dropping his head into his hands. She reached forward, intending to lay a hand on his trembling shoulders in an attempt at comfort, but he quickly jerked away.

"W-would you like to talk about it? Maybe I can help."

"No one can help me…" He sat staring into the shadows, hugging his knees to his chest as tremors shook his lithe frame.

She stared at him for a moment, not knowing what else to do, before finally speaking up. "Bernard…he was your master, wasn't he?"

Siroc whirled around, glaring. "Who told you?"

"N-no one had to. I saw the scars, and know enough Latin to figure out what you were muttering when he put you back in here…well, some of it, anyway. What did he do to you?"

He shook his head. "Nothing suitable for your ears."

"Why?" she yelled, leaping to her feet. "Because I'm so much younger than you? Because I'm a woman?"

"Because you're innocent. You've never been a slave, so there's no way you could possibly understand what it was like for me…what I had to do just to survive….I've spent over a millennium trying to purge the memories of what I suffered at his hands, and in less than a day that sadist managed to bring it all back with perfect clarity."

Anger fading, Jacqueline knelt down next to Siroc. "He beat you again, didn't he? That's what the special room was for."

"That was part of it, yes. But not all scars are physical…" He trailed off, staring once more into the darkness. In the dim torchlight, she could see tears starting to form at the corners of his eyes. Curious as she was about what happened between Siroc and Bernard, Jacqueline knew better than to push the subject further. Instead, she wrapped her arm around the ancient's shoulders. He didn't resist this time, but leaned into the embrace, burying his face in the fabric of her shirt.

"Well, isn't this sweet." Both musketeers looked up to see the Legend himself standing in the doorway. Jacqueline smiled. This had to be part of the captain's plan…only there was no one else to be seen.

"Where are the others?" she inquired.

"Others?"

"Yes. Captain Duval…Ramon…your son…"

D'Artagnan chuckled mirthlessly. "Is that what you think I'm here for?"

"Why else?" Even as she spoke, Jacqueline had a bad feeling about what his answer would be. Her fears were confirmed a moment later, when the Legend stepped into the torchlight, clad in the black habit of Mazarin's secret order.

"Traitor!" Siroc cried out. He tried to lunge for the elder D'Artagnan, but Jacqueline held fast. Now was not the time. Unfortunately, his outburst managed to draw the Legend's attention. He stalked forward, shoved her aside, grabbed Siroc by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

"Hello…Aramis."