Authors note: This follows on from yesterday's misadventure…
At the same moment that Athos slumped to the ground, d'Artagnan surged forward. He swung his sword in a wide arch over Athos' inert body, cutting deeply into the man who had taken the lead. The man gasped in shock at the speed of the assault. D'Artagnan wrenched his arm back, dragging his sword further into the man's body as he did so. The leader of the gang would not be leading anyone again. The second man growled at d'Artagnan. The man whom Athos had been wary of right from the start had proven the injured man correct. He was a double-crossing scoundrel. D'Artagnan rarely took pleasure in killing someone, but this man was the reason Athos was injured and they had all been put in danger. The turncoat deserved everything he got. D'Artagnan might have liked to give the man a fair chance at fighting back if they had time to indulge in such nonsense.
But that luxury could not be afforded. Athos was injured, he was bleeding and might have passed out for real. D'Artagnan did not offer the man the chance to fight back. In two fast sword strokes followed by a quick jab of his main gauche, the slimy man collapsed with barely a whimper of pain.
He turned toward the horse and cart. Aramis was a few paces ahead of him helping Athos stumble forward. D'Artagnan grabbed Athos on the other side and hurried the pair towards the cart. He could hear a fierce sword fight to his left. Porthos was still busy with the two men he had taken on in what should have been a quick melee. D'Artagnan hoped his friend would conclude his fight in the next few seconds. They did not need to be delayed any further.
A muffled grunt from Porthos was not a sound d'Artagnan wanted to hear. He glanced at Aramis who simply indicated with a head nod that he should help their friend. Athos rallied for a moment and took his weight again as d'Artagnan let him go.
Turning back to Porthos, d'Artagnan found that whatever caused Porthos to grunt seemed to have spurned him into finishing the fight. One man lay bleeding from an injury to his neck that would see him dead in seconds. The other was stumbling back, falling off Porthos' sword which had been thrust into his stomach.
Porthos stood still for a moment, the only movement his shoulders heaving as he caught his breath. Then he wavered. But d'Artagnan was there, steering him around, towards the cart. D'Artagnan could not tell where his friend was injured and could only hope it was not serious. It was bad enough that one of their party was hurt, now they had to deal with two injuries.
'Help him up, then we have to get out of here,' said Aramis, who had managed to bundle Athos onto the back of the cart on his own.
Athos looked decidedly pale, he was still clutching at the wound on his leg, but the blood stain on his breeches was all that was needed to know how badly injured he was.
Porthos managed to pull himself onto the back of the cart. D'Artagnan could see him clutching at his side, blood staining his shirt through the slash in his doublet.
'See to Athos,' said Porthos. 'I'll be alright for a few minutes.'
Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan and indicated that he was more than ready to depart. D'Artagnan nodded his agreement and rushed to the front of the cart, he jumped up behind the horse and grabbed the reins. The beast lumbered forward without much urging. D'Artagnan was content to let the horse pick its route initially. He twisted around to check on his friends.
Aramis was busy pulling bandages from his medical bag, he threw a couple towards Porthos who grabbed them and used them to help stem the flow of blood from his wound. Porthos was correct, his injury was not as serious as Athos' and could wait a few minutes.
Athos on the other hand.
The pale man had finally passed out. Aramis was pressing a dressing over the wound one-handed as he pulled another from his bag and unfurled it. He wrapped the strip of cloth around Athos' leg firmly before laying his hand on Athos' chest for several seconds. D'Artagnan knew what his friend was doing.
Checking if Athos was still alive.
Checking he had not succumbed to the injury.
Checking he had not bled to death as they tried to get away.
When Aramis sighed and leaned back with a nod d'Artagnan was grateful. But they were not safe yet. They had to deal with the injured men properly. They had to find somewhere they could safely stop.
D'Artagnan knew he could not help much with tending to their friends' injuries, but he could work on getting them to something vaguely resembling safety.
D'Artagnan set to work.
To be continued…
Whumpees: Athos and Porthos. Featuring: Aramis and d'Artagnan.