Ambush

Chapter One

Although the ambush had taken them by surprise Porthos did not expect them to have any issues dealing with the four men. They were not the best fighters and after glancing around he was aware that d'Artagnan was easily beating his opponent, a scrawny tatty man. Athos' opponent was trying a little harder, but as usual, Porthos got the impression his friend was toying with the man.

His opponent had tried some enthusiastic moves, he was a sprightly middle ages man who moved quickly but had not been able to get passed Porthos' well-trained defensive moves. All Porthos needed was an opening and he would finish the man off with ease.

Aramis was skilfully dealing with his young opponent. The pale lad was probably not even twenty. Like Porthos, Aramis was waiting for the lad to make a mistake that he could take advantage of.

The man in front of Porthos made his mistake, a quick thrust with his main gauche left the man clutching at his chest as he crumpled to the floor. Almost simultaneously d'Artagnan finished off his opponent. As d'Artagnan turned to see which of his comrades needed help, his face took on a look of shock. Porthos turned in the direction he was staring just in time to see a fifth man approach Aramis from behind.

There was no time to warn the marksman, the new opponent lifted the axe he was carrying in to the air and brought it down on the unaware musketeers back. Aramis crashed to the ground. The young lad and the new man both kicked Aramis to the side several times.

A shot rang out, startling Porthos who had become frozen staring at the horrific image of the axe hitting his friend. The axe man fell to the floor, a bullet wound in his head.

The pale young man stared at them for a second before running off as fast as he could, disappearing into the woods.

MMMM

Athos had defeated his opponent a few seconds after d'Artagnan had fired his gun. He looked over at d'Artagnan who was moving forward tugging at Porthos who had stopped and was staring ahead.

Aramis lay, face down a few meters from them. Athos rushed forward and knelt by the unconscious man. D'Artagnan was by his side, resting his hand on Aramis' back, he paused, looked at Athos, then turned to Porthos.

'He's not dead. There's no injury…'

Athos looked at d'Artagnan with confusion etched on his face as Porthos walked over and crouched down.

'He was struck with an axe, how is there no injury?' asked an incredulous Porthos.

'It must have been the blunt side, the axe isn't double bladed,' replied d'Artagnan looking over to Porthos, then nodding toward the weapon which lay a few inches from the dead hand of the man who had wielded it.

'He could still be badly injured. If the blow was hard enough it could have broken his back…and you know what that would mean.'

D'Artagnan looked at Athos, the question clear, on his face.

'I've seen it before, after a horse accident a man broke his back, it was like he was in some sort of waking death. He couldn't move his arms or legs. There was nothing the doctors could do. He died…I think his friends may have…helped him to die,' Athos told d'Artagnan shuddering at the recollection.

'He ain't dead yet,' said Porthos defiantly, 'help me get his jacket off, let's see what the damage is.'

They carefully divested Aramis of his doublet, being as gentle as they could. Porthos slowly pushed the unconscious man's shirt up over his back. The bruising across his back was already dark, with equally nasty looking marks on his side where he had been kicked. Athos felt along his friend's ribs.

'I think two are broken,' he said grimly, 'all we can do is bind the ribs as best we can…and wait.'

MMMM

As d'Artagnan busied himself searching the bodies of the four dead bandits he kept an eye on Porthos and Athos who were gently binding Aramis' ribs. They had turned him and sat him up, there was no sign of Aramis coming around.

'I can't find anything on the bodies, there isn't even any money. I doubt they were important members of the gang,' he said as he walked back over to his friends who had laid Aramis down again, slightly on his side.

'I do not want to stay here any longer than we have to,' said Athos ignoring Porthos' glare, 'the one that ran off, he could come back with reinforcements.'

D'Artagnan could understand the reason for Athos wanting to move quickly and he could see the issue Porthos had. Athos wanted to avoid another confrontation now that they were a man down and Porthos did not want to risk moving Aramis until he was at least conscious and they knew how badly injured he was.

As if on cue Aramis moaned and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up and gasped in pain.

'Careful,' said Porthos as he helped the marksman to sit, 'at least we know your back isn't broken.'

Aramis looked at him, shocked.

'You were hit on the back with an axe, the blunt side, you went down hard…' Athos trailed off.

'Like that man who fell from his horse?' asked Aramis understanding.

Athos nodded. Aramis smiled and to placate any lasting fears in his friends he made an effort to move all his limbs. Satisfied that his friend was going to be OK, Athos rose and looked at Porthos pointedly.

'Athos wants us to leave as soon as possible, will you need to ride with one of us?'

Aramis thought for a moment before saying, 'help me up.'

D'Artagnan stepped forward and offered his arm, Aramis grabbed it and slowly, with Porthos' help, eased himself up. The effort had drained the musketeer of any colour in his face and left him panting. He clutched at his broken ribs.

'Short answer is, yes, I doubt I can ride alone.'

'You can ride with me,' suggested d'Artagnan.

Porthos nodded his approval.

MMMM

Athos was keen to leave. He knew it would be uncomfortable for the injured marksman, but there was a high chance more bandits would arrive. They had been breaking camp when the attack occurred. The four men that ran at them were undisciplined and had the fifth not arrived they would have defeated them with ease. But, one man had escaped and that meant they were still in danger. The bandits in this area had become increasingly organised, Treville had despatched several groups of Musketeers to scout out the area in an attempt to find their base of operations. It appeared several smaller groups had banded together and were working the area as one large gang.

A few minutes later and they would have been on their way, but they were not to be that lucky. Several men approached them, guns aimed at each musketeer. There was no chance of fighting back this time.

'Which one?' a tall, sturdy man asked a young lad. The tall man, unlike the other bandits was dressed well, his clothes were not tatty. He bore similarities to the axe man who lay dead a few meters from where Athos stood.

The lad pointed at d'Artagnan who was stood by his horse. The tall man strode with purpose towards the young musketeer. Without warning he punched d'Artagnan hard to the face causing him to stagger back and lean against the waiting horse. The man stepped forward and pushed the end of his gun under d'Artagnan's chin forcing his head up. The musketeer had his hands out in submission. As well as shocked, he looked confused.

'You killed my brother,' said the tall man, 'I'm going to kill you.'

Porthos, already enraged, took a couple of steps forward. One of the other bandits grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. The tall man looked over at him, then at Athos, and finally at Aramis, who was sat on the ground near the body of the man's brother.

The man nodded towards Aramis, another of the men walked over to him and pushed him roughly over. Aramis could not help a small cry of pain, the man put his booted foot on Aramis side. The already pale musketeer screwed his eyes up in pain his breathing fast and shallow.

'Be still or you will all die, right now,' said the tall man firmly. He removed the gun from under d'Artagnan's chin and stepped over to Porthos who was glaring at the man.

'My father, will want to be there when I take my revenge. Since my father isn't here, we'll be going to him, but I don't need all of you…would you rather die now?'

The gun was pushed into Porthos' face, he tried his best not to flinch away. He continued to stare at the man.

'I thought not,' he said before turning to the other men, 'bind their wrists, tie them to the back of the cart, we leave as soon as the bodies have been collected.'

MMMM

There were seven bandits. The leader clearly had a good command of his men. They worked well together, they were more coordinated than the first group to attack the musketeers. The young lad was the one that had run away. He had clearly reported to the leader, who had known Aramis was injured and now knew that d'Artagnan was responsible for killing the axeman.

The other five were strong looking young men, this implied to Porthos that the gang were prospering. The coming together of smaller groups of bandits meant that a hierarchy had formed. Not unlike the Court of Miracles. Most groups of people eventually formed into leaders and followers. It was unfortunate that d'Artagnan had killed the son of what Porthos suspected was the gang's overall leader. D'Artagnan was in grave danger.

If Aramis was not injured they would probably have been able to escape, but he was in no shape to move quickly. He had not moved from the spot he had ended up in after being pushed over earlier. As he and Athos were having their wrists bound and the rope tied to the back of a cart, Porthos watched as two gang members advanced on the prone man.

They hauled him up with no regard for his injuries, he tried to stifle a cry. The men laughed, Porthos took a step towards them only to find Athos' bound hands on his shoulder stopping him as he quietly said.

'They want us alive for now, do not keep drawing attention to yourself.'

Porthos huffed in response as he watched the men with Aramis roughly tie his hands together and drag him toward the cart. The marksman stumbled the last few steps and Porthos had to grab him as best he could, to prevent him crashing to the ground. Aramis was breathing as hard as his injured ribs would allow. He was ashen and looked on the verge of passing out. It took Porthos a couple of minutes to steady his friend, who was hanging on to him for support.

He glanced over at d'Artagnan who was looking warily at one of the other gang members who was positively leering at the young musketeer. D'Artagnan did not look comfortable as he was being scrutinised. Another man was binding his wrists, then he too was brought over to the cart and tied to it.

The bodies of the dead men had been loaded onto the cart. The musketeer's weapons and saddle bags were piled on top. Their horses were being brought up alongside the cart.

The leader stepped forward. He peered at the weapons, poked about at a couple of them then pulled Aramis' guns out of their belt. He weighed them up, nodded approvingly then slipped them into his own weapon belt, discarding the guns he already had. He next appraised the horses, settling on Porthos', he mounted and turned to look at his captives.

'We have a long walk ahead of us, if you behave you will be allowed to eat and drink and rest. If you cause us issues you will not be allowed the luxuries. Do you understand?'

None of them said anything. The man signalled the driver of the cart and the horse was encouraged to walk forward. The four musketeers were jerked forward by the motion. Porthos managed to grab Aramis' arm before he fell to the floor. Once steady he was able to walk on his own, but Porthos could tell he was in a lot of pain. The man who had been staring at d'Artagnan was walking a few meters from the young musketeer. Porthos nodded imperceptibly to Athos and indicated the man. Athos nodded.

They had their work cut out, if they were to keep an eye on each other.

MMMM

D'Artagnan did not like the attention he was getting from the gang member. The slight man had gradually moved closer to him and even brushed his arm with his hand at one point. D'Artagnan had moved over as far as he could, Athos giving him a bit of space by moving forward. He knew Athos and Porthos were aware of the unwanted attention he was receiving.

The leering man seemed to grow board and moved off a little, d'Artagnan sighed with relief he turned to Athos who was watching him.

'Just keep away from him as much as you can. I doubt he will get the opportunity to try anything, you are…too valuable…to their leader.'

D'Artagnan managed a smile, 'aren't I the popular one. Although I'd rather not be…how are we getting out of this?'

'I am trying to come up with a plan and am open to suggestions,' replied Athos.

D'Artagnan fell silent as he thought. They were surrounded by seven men. Under normal circumstances, the four of them could easily take out seven men. But they were effectively only three at the moments, Aramis looked awful and on the verge of collapse. They were without their weapons and they were restrained. He thought, wryly, that he might be able to persuade the leader to let the other go as he was the one that had upset the man so much by killing his brother. But d'Artagnan knew his friend would not allow him to sacrifice himself for their sakes.

They had been walking for about an hour, Aramis was stumbling more and more. He was very pale and clearly about to pass out. The leader of the gang was watching him carefully, d'Artagnan got the impression he was amused by the injured man.

D'Artagnan was not surprised when Aramis did collapse to the floor in a heap.

MMMM