Chapter Two
The men following must have spotted them as a couple of guns were fired in their direction. Aramis renewed his efforts to stay upright. The fall had hurt, he knew he would be bruised and he knew that he would be stiff after they rested, if they ever got a chance to rest. His shoulders hurt and he could barely feel his hands and arms. The ropes were tight around his wrists. Now he wished they had taken the time to free him completely before they ran. He was also struggling for breath; his vision was stating to go fuzzy. But they had to keep moving.
A yelp behind him had him slow and turn, Athos had been hit when the guns had been fired. He was clutching his left arm with his right. He was still moving easily and waved Aramis on with his bloody hand. It was clearly not serious enough to force the swordsman to stop running. But it would have to be looked at, as would the burns on Porthos and d'Artagnan. They were all injured in some way now.
The trees and undergrowth in the area they were running through had become thicker. It was getting more difficult to negotiate their way. Aramis was forced to wait for Athos to help him, grabbing his bound arm to steady him as he clambered over a fallen tree trunk, as he went to move off again Athos stopped him.
'Listen.'
The sounds of the pursuit had stopped. Ahead of them Porthos and d'Artagnan stopped as well. They were all breathing hard, d'Artagnan looked to be in quite a lot of pain.
'Let's get hidden before we sort ourselves out…' said Athos looking around.
In the relative silence, the noise of running water became apparent. D'Artagnan took a few steps towards the source of the sound.
'It looks like there are overhanging rocks on the other side,' he said as the others joined him.
'Perfect,' said Porthos as he clambered down the bank of the small river and managed to cross it using protruding rocks to keep dry.
'Should we get you untied first?' asked Athos looking between Aramis and the short decent to the stream and the rocks across it.
'I can't feel…my arms now anyway,' panted Aramis, 'let's get hidden away first, much as I want to be…untied, it is not going to be pleasant.'
Aramis knew it was going to hurt as the blood started to circulate properly in his hands and arms once he was untied.
Athos helped him down to the river then steadied him as they used the rocks to cross the shallow water. None of them fancied getting wet.
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Porthos moved to the back of the overhanging rock, it was not really a cave but it would provide them with enough cover for now. They needed to tend to their injuries and catch their breath.
Athos had guided the still bound Aramis over from the stream. He forced Aramis down onto his knees. The marksman was breathing hard, almost gasping for breath. The pressure of having his arms pulled back for so long and being forced to run had exhausted him.
Porthos moved to kneel in front of Aramis and steadied his shoulders as Athos began untying the rope. Aramis rested his head on Porthos shoulder as he tried to calm his breathing. Porthos knew that Aramis was probably in danger of passing out.
'Easy,' he said, 'need you awake to see to our injuries.'
Aramis whimpered in pain as the rope fell away from his wrists. Between them Athos and Porthos manoeuvred the newly liberated man's arms around to rest in his lap. Porthos rubbed at Aramis' shoulders in a vain hope of easing some of the pain. But he knew his friend would probably be suffering for some time from the strain on his shoulders.
Athos moved to sit by d'Artagnan who had perched on a narrow ledge at the side of their temporary hideout.
'He'll be alright in a few minutes,' Porthos heard Athos say quietly to the concerned looking d'Artagnan.
'I'm fine…now…' managed Aramis between gasped breathes.
'No, you're not,' said Porthos pushing his friend back up to look at him, 'can you even feel your hands?'
'Well, no…but I…will be…able to…' Aramis hissed.
Porthos managed a chuckle as he watched his friend's face contort in pain as the feeling slowly returned to his abused arms. He pulled the marksman back towards him and held onto him for a few more minutes whilst his breathing settled and he made the occasional sound of discomfort.
'How bad are your hands?' asked Porthos looking over the top of Aramis' heaving shoulders.
D'Artagnan looked down at his fingers and palms, 'they hurt…' he tried moving his fingers, 'and it's hard to move them.'
'How cold is…the water?' Aramis' voice sounded slightly muffled as he spoke with his forehead still pressed against Porthos' shoulder.
Athos walked across and reached down trailing his hand into the flow of water, 'it is cool, not too cold.'
D'Artagnan understood and moved across, he knelt and dipped both his hands into the river, Athos remained by his side looking back the way they had come.
'Any signs of them?' asked Porthos as he helped Aramis to sit back up.
'No, but we really cannot linger here any longer than is necessary,' replied Athos looking back at them.
Aramis was trying to move his fingers without success, he looked at Porthos, 'show me the burn on your arm.'
Porthos obliged, he knew there would be little that could be done, 'another scar to add to the collection,' he said with a grin.
'You can at least clean it,' said Aramis nodding towards the river.
'What about your leg and arm, you cannot hide the tears to your clothes,' said Athos as he crossed back to where the marksman was sat. Aramis had managed to twist around and lean against the back of the overhanging rock.
Porthos looked back concerned, he had not noticed that Aramis had other injuries. Athos knelt next to Aramis and pushed the torn fabric of his breeches apart. The marksman's leg was already a mess of angry bruises, his arm the same.
'If we stop for too long I will get stiff,' said Aramis, who was clearly too fatigued to try and cover up the extent of his injuries, 'and your arm?'
Porthos looked across as Athos and noticed the bloody stain across his left arm. Athos pushed up his sleeve to show a slight furrow across the skin. The wound was barely bleeding, Aramis looked at him then pointed at the stream. Athos made a small mocking bow and walked across to clean the wound.
'So, we're all injured?' said d'Artagnan looking up from staring at his burnt hands.
'But they are all small injuries,' said Aramis as he continued to move his fingers as the blood started to flow properly to his hands.
Athos finished cleaning the dirt from his wound and stood up, 'all the more reason to keep moving, the greater distance we can put between them and us the better.'
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