Chapter Fourteen - Torture
D'Artagnan (with Athos)
Athos closed his eyes briefly when d'Artagnan screamed. The young Musketeer had held on far longer than Athos had expected him to. Even when he did show the pain he was in he managed to stifle the scream to a certain extent. But the look of pain in his eyes. That was what made Athos close his own. D'Artagnan had held eye contact with Athos as the lash hit his back. Athos had lost count of the number of times the lash had been swung through the air.
D'Artagnan did not want Athos to speak. They both knew Athos could not speak up, if he did countless innocent lives could be lost. The information was just too valuable. It was not the first time Athos has been in the position he was. Watching a brother tortured. Knowing he need only say the word and the torment would be over.
Athos pulled at the chains that were holding him at bay. There was nothing he could do.
He could talk.
He could betray the innocent people.
He could save d'Artagnan.
He could save his brother.
But the look he got from d'Artagnan, the look that had not changed since they had ripped his shirt off and tied his wrists tightly and raised them above his head. The look had not changed as the lash was brought down across d'Artagnan's back again and again, and again.
Athos would not talk.
Athos would not betray the innocent people.
Athos chose not to save d'Artagnan.
Athos chose not to save his brother.
It could have been him, barely able to support his own weight, trying not to show any weakness. It could have been him, but it was not; it was d'Artagnan.
Athos wondered what had made the men chose to torture d'Artagnan rather than him? Surely the younger man would break quicker if he had been made to watch? Surely the men would know that Athos was likely to last longer before he was compelled to talk as he watched d'Artagnan tortured?
Then it hit him. The men knew Athos would not speak easily. They knew Athos would be able to hold out longer. The sadistic bastards wanted to watch them both suffer. D'Artagnan physically; Athos mentally.
Did they even want Athos to give up the information? Was this just a game for them?
Athos decided he did not want to play anymore.
'Alright,' he said.
The man with the lash paused, his arm already drawn back ready to strike again. The man with the gun stared at Athos a look of surprise on his face.
D'Artagnan, who had momentarily lowered his head looked up.
'No,' he said quietly, his voice cracking, even on the simple word.
Athos looked at the young man for a few seconds before turning to face the man with the gun.
'Get me some paper, I will write it down, I would not want you to forget any of the details when you report to your paymaster.'
The gunman smirked slightly before nodding to the man with the lash, who grunted and dropped his torturous device. The clang of the door shutting told Athos the man had gone.
'Athos...don't,' d'Artagnan barely had the strength to talk.
Athos did not look at him; could not look at him.
The paper arrived, the man brought a small table, a chair, and a quill and ink. The man with the gun stepped forward, passing his gun to the other man who pointed it at d'Artagnan. Athos was released from his chains and allowed to walk to the table. He sat down and began to write.
Athos could feel d'Artagnan watching him.
The rope holding d'Artagnan up was cut, the young Musketeer crumpled to the ground. He made no sound and did not move, but Athos was sure the man was still conscious.
Athos finished writing, he held up the paper to the man who reached out for it.
The mistake the men had made was in believing Athos. Believing that he had broken. The other mistake the men had made was to release d'Artagnan from his bonds.
Both men moved together, Athos knew he could not rely on his injured brother, but d'Artagnan would cause enough of a distraction for him to deal with the two men. A swift firm punch to the throat of the man in front of Athos saw him stumble back, falling to the floor. The other man, the man who had taken such pleasure in lashing d'Artagnan was kicked firmly in the back of the leg by the injured man, he fell hard, his head smacking into the stone floor. Athos was impressed, with no effort at all d'Artagnan had halved their problem.
Athos made short work of the other man, he grabbed the gun, flipped it in his hands and clubbed the man across the head, twice. The man was not dead, but now had a broken nose and would probably have a bad headache when he awoke.
Rushing to the door Athos peered out. As he had expected, they were alone, the small house was only occupied by the two men who had taken them.
'I thought…' panted d'Artagnan, 'you were really going to speak…'
'I thought,' replied Athos, 'that you should have pretended to be in more pain than you are a little earlier than you did.'
'Wanted...it to look authentic.'
'They were playing with us,' said Athos as he grabbed d'Artagnan's doublet from the corner of the room where the men had thrown it when they had forcefully taken it off him.
Athos hated to put his brother through more pain, but it would be cool outside, and he did not want d'Artagnan to suffer from the cold as well as his injuries. The sooner they could get back to their camp and deal with the wounds the better.
'Stay awake a bit longer…'
D'Artagnan nodded as Athos helped him up and out of the room that had been their prison. The information was safe, they were both alive, d'Artagnan would recover. Not the perfect mission, thought Athos, but they had accomplished what they set out to do.
The End.