Several red guards tumbled from their horses when hit with musket fire. Their horses spooked, snorted, reared and pulled on reins as the smoke of gunpowder hung like heavy fog. Musketeers dismounted, pulled their muskets and immediately moved into box formations as several men, hidden in the shadows of the wooded area above them, rushed toward the caravan with angry battle cries and promises of retribution. Clubs, swords, pistols, and axes were pulled and swung. Startled horses jumped, sidestepped, and tossed their heads. Several trotted and galloped away, snapping their reins and snorting as men tumbled, fought, and fell before them.

Athos swung his pistol, struck a man across the jaw, and watched him stumble backward. He ducked when another man charged him and fell over his back and then rolled to a heap on the ground. Aramis tackled a man who raised his sword to strike one of the carriage horses, while d'Artagnan swung his weapon and defended the other. A sword clattered to the ground. Someone reached for it, only to find Porthos' kicking it away. More fists were thrown. Several men who had charged them fell alongside musketeers and red guards.

They were victims of their own making. The king's decision to travel had been made without the consent of Treville or Richelieu, and the decision to take the less traveled roads now proved detrimental. The Musketeer and Red Guard Regiments were solid, well trained, and devoted to their king, but regardless of their hours of dedication, they could not combat the weather, the terrain, and the anger of too many men who believed in their cause. Leaving Paris had put them all at risk. A rash decision made from fear and not logic.

A large man with broad shoulders, thick red hair that was pulled away from his face and bound at the base of his neck, and a heavy beard and mustache rushed toward Athos and shoved him against the carriage. Athos landed with a "humph." The carriage shifted, and then rolled slightly forward as the driver pulled back on the reins in an effort to still the horses. There was no place for the king's guards to maneuver as men and horses clamored before them and behind them. Athos pushed his attacker, but the man countered and they both landed with a grunt against the carriage. Another man grabbed the door handle and violently swung it open. Queen Anne screamed and her cries went unanswered when Louis shouted in anger and fear. Richelieu swore when grabbed and pulled from the confines by a man with dark black hair and a brand of desertion on his cheek.

Richelieu landed with a groan and then moaned as he rolled to his back and clutched his arm to his chest. A portly and sizeable man tumbled over the top of him just as he tried to roll away. He looked at the chaos and tried to scoot backward, but his cloak snagged on the bark of a downed tree. He watched in horror when Athos was grabbed around the neck, lifted off his feet, and shoved once more against the carriage. His red-haired attacker bared crooked teeth.

With his hands clutched to his assailant's collar, Athos fell, striking his lower back against the base of the carriage doorframe. He pressed the heel of his hand against his assailant's chin, forcing him to look upward despite being shoved farther inside the carriage. Athos struggled for breath as the hands around his throat tightened. He felt lightheaded, his vision blurred, and the frantic sounds of the battle dulled. Frantically, he tried to shift his knee and foot upward. His attempt to push the man backward was proving futile. Athos' size and strength were no match for the monster of a man who had him in a death grip.

Queen Anne screamed and struggled to squeeze herself into the far corner. Louis spread his arms, backed up beside her, partially covering her, and opened his eyes wide when the red-haired man looked up and smiled. He winked and blew her a kiss before grunting when Athos pulled his dagger and shoved it into the right side of his chest. The man shouted, not from pain, but anger. Spittle flew from his mouth and he continued to hold steady tightening his grip around Athos' neck.

Louis looked frantically from Athos to the attacker, his long curls bounced around his shoulders and slapped the sides of his cheeks. He pulled his right shoe from his foot and hit the stranger several times across the face and head.

"How dare you?" Louis shouted and hit him again.

The buckle sliced the man's forehead and blood streamed between his eyes, over his nose, and fell downward. Athos continued to struggle weakly.

"Release him! I demand it!" Louis struck him again and eyes grew large as he pursed his lips and tightened his jaw. "Do it now!"

The man laughed, winced, and then released his hands and then struck Athos violently across the jaw. Athos' grip failed, and he gasped for breath before suddenly going still. The man looked up, looked at Anne's wild, wide eyes, and Louis' determined features.

"You, Your Majesty," the man said. He licked his lips, spreading blood across his teeth, and continued, "Are about to learn how tired your people are — how disenfranchised they are — and just how far they are will go to prove to you that your taxes are killing us." He pulled the dagger from his side, looked at it, and chuckled before dropping it to the floor.

Louis opened his mouth to say something, but sat back, lowered his hand that still held his shoe, and then watched as Athos was suddenly shoved inside the cabin and the door of the carriage slammed shut. Louis turned, wrapped his arm around Anne's shoulders as she cried. He listened to the chaos outside, and then looked at Athos, who lay in a crumpled heap.

"What are we going to do?" Anne asked and hitched her breath as she tried to control her breathing. "Is he alive?"

Louis closed his eyes, pushed aside the curtain that covered the window to Anne's right, and hissed when he watched Treville swing his blade and strike a man down. Treville was hit from behind and fell forward. The carriage suddenly lurched. Louis leaned forward over Athos' body and tried to push open the door. Frustrated, he stepped over Athos and tried harder. "It's locked." He clutched at the handle and shook it, but nothing happened. He heard shouts from outside, frantic calls, and panicked horses as the carriage careened forward.

"Louis," Anne said, and gripped the edge of the seat. Her heart raced and pounded against her chest. She felt faint and while she tried to swallow her fear, she looked once more at Athos, who moved his hand to his throat and violently coughed.

A sudden jolt caused Louis to fall backward against Anne, and Athos reached up and grasped the edge of a seat to prevent himself from sliding forward. He groaned, coughed again, and then rubbed his hand along his neck. "Your… Majesty?" he said gruffly.

Louis looked once more out the window and watched several musketeers and red guards run toward their horses. "I fear," he looked at Athos, "we are alone in this situation."

The back of the carriage suddenly bounced, and Louis and Anne both gasped for air before falling back onto the narrow bench. Athos fell against the edge of the seat, hitched his breath and groaned again, but slowly shifted himself to his knees and looked out the window. Another bump in the road had him falling toward the king. He apologized and then shoved himself onto the bench across from them.

The horses galloped with stretched necks, bits clenched, and legs reaching for more ground with each stride. The long reins snapped and the aggressive driver flung the long whip through the air. Several unknown riders joined in the escape and galloped alongside the carriage. They turned occasionally and fired at those chasing after them.

Anne grasped the ledge of the small window and the edge of her seat. King Louis fell forward and landed against the side of the carriage. Athos grasped the king's arm and shoulder and helped him sit back. The carriage continued to bounce, weave, and sway and all three inhabitants struggled to remain seated. A sudden bump had all three of them coming out of their seats. Anne hissed, clutched at the curtain, while Louis fell and struck his head against the edge of the seat. With an exaggerated grimace, he pressed his hand against his temple and swore when he pulled his hand away and found blood on his fingers.

"Majesty?" Athos asked, and looked out the window. He suddenly fell backward and landed against the far door when the driver took a harsh turn to the right.

"I'm," Anne said as she closed her eyes, "going to be sick." A cold sweat broke out on her brow. Her face paled, and she closed her eyes.

Louis struggled and extended his right leg across from him, bracing his foot against the seat near Athos' thigh to stabilize himself, and then gently took her left hand. He pushed himself close to her. He was just as terrified, but he kissed her hand and held tight even as the carriage hit another bump and then took another turn.

"I feel like a pebble that is trapped in the saddlebag of a runaway horse," Louis said. He exhaled slowly when he felt the carriage slow. He could hear the voices of the men outside and he looked outward as several leaned over the pommels of their saddles and looked inside the carriage in curiosity and satisfaction. Louis wiped at his brow and smeared a small amount of blood across his forehead. He looked at Athos and said, "They'll all hang for this."

Athos' scarf had loosened around his neck and the bruising was slowly appearing. He had lost his cloak in the scuffle, along with his pistol and sword. His main gauche was missing, but he grabbed the dagger from the floor and then shoved it inside his boot.

"Where are they taking us?" Anne asked, and looked at Athos. She wiped her lips and then clutched at her cloak. The fear, adrenaline, and anxiety had caused her to forget about the chill in the air, but as the driver slowed the horses, she suddenly felt goosebumps along her skin and shivered.

"I don't know, Your Majesty," Athos said. He winced, coughed again, and then rubbed his throat, and looked again out the window to his left and then to his right. When the carriage tilted to the right, he grabbed the edge of the window-frame and leaned suddenly back. Athos noticed several riders surrounding them, all heavily armed with brands on their cheeks. "Deserters," he said and looked at the king. "All of them are military trained."

"Traitors," Louis said and placed his arm over Anne as she leaned toward him. "What's the likelihood that these are the same men who attacked Paris?" He looked at Athos as he leaned to the right and placed his hand on the carriage door, when it once again suddenly shifted. Louis counterbalanced the movement and used his position next to Anne to keep from falling forward.

"I would assume so, Your Majesty," Athos responded. He caught the eyes of one rider, who stared back at him with a vacant, angry, and unyielding look of determiniation.

Anne's eyes grew wide as she looked from Louis to Athos. "What do we do?" She instinctively placed a hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. She feared for the child growing inside her. Her mind ran rampant with unreasonable fears. She tried to be strong, stoic, and royal, but her fear as a mother took the forefront of her concern.

Both Louis and Anne looked at Athos for a response.

Athos swallowed and said, "Stay calm, do what they say, and don't fight them unless you have to —"

"You are going to protect us?" Louis asked with a hint of desperation. He furrowed his brow, looked hard at Athos, and shifted uncomfortably when the carriage slowed and the sounds of stones and rocks beneath the iron covered wooden wheels suddenly transitioned to wood when they crossed a bridge.

"I'll do my best —"

"Do better than your best," Louis said. "Your king demands it."