A/N: Everyone who has been reading this story thank you and I'm really sorry for the delay. There is no excuse except I hit a wall with this one. Even though I knew where the story was going, the words for it just weren't coming. There's been so many drafts for this one and I'm still not satisfied; but so proud of myself for getting this chapter out.
They hadn't taken the horses and they had left the garrison before twilight. By the time the two of them came to a stop in the grove of trees the last glow of the day was dimming. Before them was the rough open expanse leading to the rock face and the dark gaping hollow that held their friend.
"You think she would just appear out of thin air?" Athos asked.
"She did last time," Aramis shrugged.
He closed his eyes and said Isadora's name three times under his breath. He would have felt foolish if he wasn't hoping so fervently that it would work. They had until the night set in properly, then the Captain would be riding in with his men and Aramis feared that it would end in a blood bath. The only one he hoped was capable of stopping this Shredded was the Weaver herself.
"I don't think that worked," Athos scanned the surroundings with his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"It worked fine,"
Both men drew up short at the voice.
Aramis had expected the sound of his mother's voice or that of the Comtesse who frequented his nightmares, he had never imagined Etienne's little sister to emerge from behind a tree in that grove.
There was stiffness in her movements and an edge in those big dark blue eyes that had Aramis glancing Athos' way. He was immensely grateful for the carefully neutral look the man wore, but it was the gaze leveled at the young woman that assured Aramis. Athos was searching, picking out details, weighing their options, forming a plan and if there was one thing Aramis had learned; it was that his plans always worked.
"I apologize for the wait," Constance wiped the blood that had trickled down her nose, "this body isn't used to my abilities, not a Psychic this one."
"What did you do to her?"
"Me? Oh no, she accepted to help me," Isadora smiled, "not exactly for this but…"
Aramis watched her shrug and move closer, the swing in her walk and the flirty smile on her face was so grotesquely wrong that it left him cringing. Here was an innocent, grieving young woman, a vibrant, fierce spirit cast in the control of this creature.
"Constance?" he tentatively nudged the presence of Isadora.
"Sneaky," Isadora gloated, "But you finally understood how to use it,"
"Constance?"
"Aramis?"
The girl's voice sounded muffled and so surprised was Aramis that he pulled back abruptly from the power he had tapped in.
"She's there," he turned to Athos, "somehow… "
"Oh she's in here alright," Isadora tapped the side of her head, "won't give up,"
Aramis flinched at her words but his eyes still sought Athos, who swallowed hard as though trying to keep the nausea at bay. It was their unspoken dilemma; they couldn't run her through the sword, not when there was even a little chance that the young woman before them was still somewhere in a twisted prison of her own being.
"Now I believe there is something you have to give me," Isadora said.
Aramis took the seal out of his pocket and raised it for her view. The receding light of the day caught in its multicolored jewels and reminded him of the strain of time they were under.
"I need something in return," he said, "two things."
Isadora cocked her head to the side as though studying him, her calculating and cold eyes felt wrong on that face.
"You free Constance from whatever this is," Athos nodded, "And you help us defeat the Shredder."
"Do you believe you're in any position to make demands?" the lilting cheer in her voice was icy.
"We certainly do," Aramis clenched the seal tighter in his damaged hand, "You can do what we ask or you don't get this bloody seal you're after."
"What makes you think I can't take it from you?"
"You would have stolen it yourself if you had been able to," Aramis said and smirked as he remembered the words Athos had said to him, "But you needed me to do it for you, you could have had anyone else to do it for you too, but it had to be me hadn't it?"
Things slowly began clearing in his thoughts, he glanced towards Athos and could tell the exact moment it dawned on him. A tiny smirk curled onto the older Musketeer's face.
"It has to be Aramis," Athos said, "It has to be him to give it to you, something to do with being a born knot."
Isadora flinched and scowled hard, the uncharacteristically harsh expression twisted further into a demonic sort of rage. The wind picked up speed around them, wisps of foggy white swirled at her feet and from beside Aramis, Athos gasped.
Aramis caught him as he swayed; his eyes were clenched shut, shoulders rigid and teeth grit against an invisible assault.
The younger man's anger simmered, it surged through Aramis like the bellow of wind through the mountains, aimed at the woman standing a few feet away and cracked into one fierce, enraged demand, "BACK OFF!"
He didn't see Isadora's feet literally sliding backwards on the ground, didn't notice her hold shatter, her presence waver but all he did focus on was the man beside him who staggered a little.
"Athos?" he asked.
" 'm alright," the older man blinked to clear his eyes.
The taut sharpness dissolved from the shoulders that Aramis held and his friend's harsh breathing slowly turned leveled. The younger of the two wasn't sure if it was his abilities or just that he had come to read the older man easily, either way he could tell that a raging headache was pounding against those calm eyes that settled on him.
"I'm fine," Athos assured him, "wasn't prepared for it."
Aramis nodded, he had been on the receiving end of an attack like this one a few years ago. He had a clear understanding what agony his friend had gone through, it wouldn't happen again if he had any say in the matter.
Aramis squeezed the shoulders under his hand in silent support and opened his mind to pick on any new threat coming Athos' way. As his awareness stretched and sharpened he knew his eyes would have changed.
"Athos?" it was Constance's voice, "help me,"
But even as the two reached for her she stepped back with a snarl and both men watched as the terror on her face was washed out by pure anger.
"You'll pay for that!" she growled.
This time Aramis was prepared for the hit of unseen power and surprised even himself with the invisible shield he formed not just around his own mind but around Athos' presence as well. It felt like blocking a punch from a giant and took as much strength.
He heard the Weaver gasp as she pulled back and planted his feet more firmly to keep standing in the world that seemed to lurch under him. Athos steadied him and Aramis was sure that his eyes were all black when he caught the other Musketeer's gaze.
But his friend didn't even flinch and came to stand right beside him.
"Let Constance go," Athos ordered the woman before them.
"She's fighting you know," Isadora taunted them, "wouldn't do her any good, she's not even a psychic."
"She doesn't need to be," Aramis moved towards the woman, "She would get rid of you if she wanted to. Maybe it's her way to gain some freedom and recognition."
Ignoring Athos' gaze boring into the side of his head Aramis stalked even closer to the woman.
"I bet that's why she agreed to help you," he said, "With you at least she wouldn't be bogged down by the demands of the society. You must have been glad to meet Isadora right Constance?"
The woman before them shook her head, her eyes widening before the scornful glare overshadowed it again. Aramis didn't stop until he was standing within an arm's reach of the young woman.
"They told you that your brother's been killed right?" he asked and watched the muted hurt flash in the woman's gaze, "Etienne is dead Constance, I bet you'd be glad to have one less controlling person in your life."
The sound of the palm hitting across his cheek was sharp.
Aramis didn't lose a second in holding onto the presence that was Constance. It was like wedging his foot in a closing door while a raging bull tried to push it close from the other side.
"How dare you!" the girl demanded, tears streaking her face.
Aramis paid her no mind as he pushed back against Isadora, dug in his heels and tried to force her out. Distantly he could hear Athos' calm voice asking the girl to think about her brother, to focus on that love and that loss, that grief.
"You're killing her," Isadora's voice echoed in his head. It clawed at his mind and tore into his consciousness with the ferocity that left him breathless.
Isadora scrambled to reaffirm her control and Athos' hands were the only thing keeping Constance on her feet; Aramis himself was hoping for a nice tree to lean against when the distinct metallic clink of footfalls from a man in armour reached his ears.
He saw the black mass of metal emerge from beyond the trees bordering the clearing in front of the mine, heard the shuffle and zing of that dangerous bullwhip and he tackled Aramis seconds before the glinting arc curled down.
They rolled aside in a jumble of limbs and came up weapons ready, a sword pointed at the Shredder and a pistol pointed towards the Weaver. Athos wasn't really surprised with the mounting odds against them, considering the luck they had been having he was surprised that the Captain wasn't here yet.
"I officially declare my half baked plan is a failure," Aramis told him, his eyes still filled with liquid black.
"Calling it half baked would be rather presumptuous," Athos shrugged a shoulder.
He was trying not to think about his other friend who was ominously absent. Not that he had expected the Shredder to come dragging the man behind him, but it still worried him that Porthos wasn't there.
"Porthos can't be –" Aramis shook his head.
"No he can't," said Athos.
He ducked one way while Aramis went the other in order to avoid the serrated metal rope snapping towards them. With a speed that belied his heavy armour the Shredder drew closer and flicked his weapon again. It wrapped around the tree behind Athos and sprayed him with splinters as it slashed back from the tree bark.
But then thick vines were curled up the dark metal, fixing him to the spot, they wound up and around his torso even as he struggled. Within minutes the Shredder was enveloped in a mass of green, the leaves shook and fell as the man strained.
"The seal," Isadora hissed breathlessly, "now."
"Why do you need it anyway?" Aramis held up the object in question, "what's so special about it?"
"It carries the other half,"
"Of what?"
"A very dangerous weapon,"
"So we should just hand it over to you," Athos arched a brow.
"You question to give me a part of a weapon when you hold influence over the most dangerous of them all?" Isadora gave him a wild grin and pointed a shaky finger towards Aramis, "He will betray the king you serve with such diligence and he will cast doubt onto the throne you work so hard to protect."
Athos had heard of the fortune tellers, the seers that cheated the nobles out of their position and bled dry their inheritances. He had always believed himself above of such weakness but there was so much conviction in that declaration, an authority of one stating the obvious that he found himself flinching at the woman's words.
"I cannot touch the stone without any physical presence," Isadora's voice was strained, "I cannot touch anything non-psychic, even a human unless it is offered to me. But if something is handed over by a born Knot it will be mine, whatever form I take."
"We give you this seal and you will let Constance go," Aramis clarified what the woman was implying.
"And why exactly should we trust you?" Athos wanted to know.
"I can let him go," Isadora pointed to the struggling form of the Shredder, "He will tear all of you apart, even this girl you seem so fond of. Out of us, only I will survive,"
Athos considered the offer, though there wasn't much choice and the night was upon them. He would have to think quickly to handle the Shredder, subdue him like Isadora had. But he had a feeling that a simple rope wouldn't suffice, as it was the thick vines holding the armoured man were constantly growing back where they were torn against the strain.
"You want to test me?" Isadora asked.
Aramis still held on to the seal, he was waiting for Athos to come to a decision. The older Musketeer found it unnerving the amount of faith his friends had in him. He nodded for his friend to go ahead. Without hesitation Aramis tossed the seal to Isadora.
The woman deftly caught it with a wide grin. She twisted its slim grip off the round base and reached for the vaguely teardrop shaped stone set in its hollow. With a smile she examined the clear stone in the faded gray light then clasped it in glowing fingers.
The light emanating from the woman increased, flashed once before Constance dropped to the ground unconscious and the crack of the whip announced that the Shredder was free.
The fire in his leg had receded into embers that sparked to life with each step he took and soaked afresh the bandage he had devised from the strip of his own shirt. He knew that something was afoot when the Shredder had stalked off but he had never imagined finding Athos, on his back and trying to reach his sword in vain just as the Shredded tosses aside Aramis like he weighed no more that a single sack of feed.
Porthos didn't think, he simply charged, hit the cold armour around the waist and knocked the Shredder to the ground. He fell on his wounded side and the pain in his leg turned his vision white, drowning out the world.
"Porthos! Don't you dare die now you utter bloody maniac! Open your damn eyes!"
Porthos had never heard Aramis this angry before. He blinked to clear his vision even as a groan escaped him, his leg bumped into something and the sharp pain cleared any lingering daze. He found his friends were dragging him back from their enemy.
"Saved your lives," he grinned.
Athos and Aramis stopped and as one eased his back against a tree.
"Of course you did," Aramis' face softened, "Now why is there a hole in your leg?"
There was no time for questions.
"Let me up," he ground out.
The world spun as his friends hauled him to his feet and Porthos grabbed onto a low branch to keep from swaying. He held out the blood soaked metal spike he had dug out of his leg.
"This, this will probably cut through his armour."
"Probably?" Athos glanced back to him even as he kept an eye on their advancing enemy.
"It came from his armour, would have the same magical nonsense on it so it won't bounce off of him."
Athos looked from him down to Aramis who was tightening the bindings around the wound in Porthos leg. He shrugged and Athos took the small spike. He set it on the tip of his sword where it wobbled precariously. There was no time to steady it as their enemy's weapon snapped out towards them and the three of them scattered.
They worked in tandem, moving into the space of their enemy to land an ineffective blow, distract him, dodge, pull back while one of them tried to use the spike. More often than not the silly thing wouldn't stay put.
"This is getting ridiculous." Aramis gasped as he scampered to pick up the spike that had rolled away from Porthos.
Not having time to use it, he tossed it to Athos and hurried out of the range of the Shredder's metal bullwhip.
The first scratch that arched into the chest plate was a revelation; harmless though it was, it was hope for their survival yet. But even as they shared a proud grin, Porthos knew he was sagging; it was only a matter of time before his strength would give out and he wouldn't be of any help to his friends.
The Shredder now wiser was weary of the spike they were tossing between them and began evading their blows. Porthos saw him step out of reach of Athos and spin closer to him. Pain and blood loss slowed his reflexes and he blinked to clear the sweat blurring his vision. He saw the serrated metal wire curling in the air, caught the gleam in the blade at its tip and decided to face death with his eyes open.
Only someone pulled him back, he blinked and Aramis was there.
"Now would be a good time Athos," his friend's voice was strained.
Porthos didn't see the spike tipped blade that Athos pushed through the chest plate. He was too busy gaping at the reason why the Shredder hadn't moved away from the attack.
The dagger at the end of the bullwhip was deep in Aramis' shoulder; the serrated metal rope wounded onto his arm and down to his hand where he had clasped it against the Shredder's pull. As their enemy fell with a resounding thud of finality his friend still kept his fingers closed over the weapon.
Porthos swallowed hard, his throat turning dry for reasons that were far from the blood loss he was suffering from. He had seen too many people killed by this weapon and as darkness crept at the edges of his vision he stared at the back of his still standing friend. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Aramis to this.
TBC