Athos clenched and unclenched his calves and thighs above his horse, trying to stop them going numb as they entered the fifth hour of travelling. The ground beneath their steeds was rocky and uneven, causing them to be extra vigilant for bumps and holes in the road- the carriage that contained the haul of gold that they were accompanying to Paris was also having a rough time; coins jangled around and once or twice Porthos was sure one of the wheels was slowly loosening free.

All the checks that had to be made every time Porthos pointed out a wonky wheel had cost them many minutes, and a trip that should have lasted two or three hours at best was rapidly becoming a long haul journey- Athos could see that the sun was rapidly going down behind a thick bank of clouds.

'Looks like rain.' D'Artagnan took the words right out of his mouth, and he looked behind him to Aramis, who sighed atop his own horse. They looked across at the treasury guards around the horse drawn carriage, all trotting along in practiced formation. 'They're not going to want to stop.' Aramis muttered, before frowning as the first drops of rain patterned onto his hat. 'Lovely...' He chuckled to the nearest guard, who didn't look across. 'I do love spring showers!' He added, unperturbed.

The road they were on seemed to go on for miles, and Athos hadn't seen anyone- or anything- in all that time. Boredom wasn't part of his vocabulary; he knew to watch out for danger at every second, and to always be vigilant...but even he was finding his eyes wandering to birds and trees, just wiling some of the time away.

D'Artagnan slumped on his horse as a rumble of thunder crashed over head- he blew a portion of his fringe from his eyes, eyeing Porthos with a frown as the older man laughed and patted him on the back. 'Wait for the snow!' He grinned, pretending to shiver. 'When you actually think that your toes are about to fall off!'

'Amongst other, more important things!' Aramis butted in, shaking his head as if remembering a very bad time.

'I bet!' D'Artagnan groaned, sitting up straighter as the dark paint of the carriage was illuminated by lightening.'I hate storms... ' he muttered, sighing to himself.

For a few minutes their was silence as everyone settled in to ride out the rain- the treasury guards flicked up their collars on their coats, while the Musketeers pushed their hats further on their heads to keep out the lashing rain.

'Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques...' Aramis sang softly, more to annoy the guards than anything else- their stoic faces and unwavering silence made him feel on edge, like they were expecting something to happen.

He whistled the rest of the tune as the rain came down in sheets, his legs getting wetter and wetter with each passing second. 'Isn't it time we looked for shelter?' He called after another barrage of thunder.

Athos turned, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. 'Captain Treville has given us a strict timescale...the King wants this gold as quickly as possible-'

'-at this rate our damn horses are going to drown!' Aramis interrupted, hair plastered to his head. Athos looked around, the squelching sound of the mud getting louder as the horses and wheels of the carriage trampled through thick mud.

'We might get stuck.' Porthos pointed out, tipping his head to the wheels of the carriage. 'That'll really bugger up our timescale!'

Athos sighed, knowing each of his friends were right. He stifled a laugh as he caught sight of d'Artagnan...the lad looked like a soaked puppy atop his horse.

'Its not up to me...it's up to Captain Silent and Commander Mute.' He said, nodding at the two main treasury guards just a little to the front of them. The men didn't even look up, nor acknowledge his words.

'I've got this...' Aramis muttered, moving his horse forward, passing Porthos and giving him a wink. 'I have a natural affiliation to these men...' He boasted, slowing down as he sat across from 'Captain Silent'. 'We're worried about the weather-' he began, before sucking in a breath as his horse slipped on a muddy bump, almost jarring a leg. 'The horses are going to bolt soon!' He added, eyes wide. 'Just a few moments in the dry will rejuvenate them-'

'No.' His answer came in a jarring syllable, brash and final.

'No...?' Aramis repeated, irritation rising. 'What if we get stuck, will you say no then, too?'

'We'll carry on until the next town-'

'That could be three leagues away!' Aramis butted in, frowning as his horse shook her mane and threw water into his face.

'The King will want his gold as soon as possible.' The man replied, brushing rain out of his own hair.

'Fine.' Aramis muttered shortly, reigning back his horse with a grumble so he trotted back in line with a chuckling Porthos. 'Shut it.' He told him, sniffling.

The rain continued to pour from the sky, and as they began their sixth consecutive hour on the road all any of them could hear was the hooves of their horses, the squelching of of wheels and the incessant sniffs and shudders of the men under the dark clouds.

'This. Is. Stupid.' Aramis muttered, feeling a droplet of rain run down his nose and fall off the end- he sniffed, his teeth chattering.

'How far away are we from Paris?' D'Artagnan spoke into the rain, shuddering as looming darkness started creeping in. He hadn't made the trip before, Athos remembered.

'Not far.' He told him, shaking his hat of rain. 'Thirty more miles or so.'

'Thirty?' The young man's voice was high with shock. He grumbled to himself, pulling his coat even tighter around him.

The first sign that anything was wrong came a few minutes later- they had turned a corner into a heavily wooded lane, with oaks leaning in towards them with pressing darkness. Aramis eyed the lane warily, one hand fisted in his reigns, the other lingering towards his blade.

'I'm not liking this...' He whispered to Porthos.

'Me neither.' His friend confirmed- seconds later the horses of the guards up ahead nickered and snorted, baying upwards as they saw something up ahead- 'steady girl...' Athos whispered, holding up a closed fist to herald them to stop.

No sooner had the carriage of gold slowed all hell broke loose as a musket shot sounded in the silence, followed by yells and shouts from ahead. 'AMBUSH!' Porthos cried, immediately getting off his horse with his hand darting for weapon.

A cacophony of shouts and blurred action followed as Aramis ran forwards himself, eyes scanning the rain soaked lane ahead; he threw himself to the side as a blade came out of nowhere- steel met steel as his own blade crashed onto it; Aramis grunted as he pushed the man backwards and onto his backside as he slipped in the mud.

He finished him off with a quick swipe of his blade, and before the man's head even hit the ground he was up again, towards the two horses that pulled the gold. 'Steady...steady...' He muttered, trying to calm them, but it was no use- 'Untie them!' He yelled at a guard that had just dispatched another thief; he looked at him like he'd gone mad, so without another word he pulled out his dirk and cut through the leather that attached the horses.

'Are you insane?' Athos shouted across.

'Probably!' Aramis muttered as the horses bucked free, before running down the lane. 'But at least they won't bolt with all that gold attached to them!'

Athos nodded, impressed by his friend's quick thinking. A cry of alarm followed by a hard thump made them turn round as another thunderclap sounded. 'D'artagnan!' Aramis yelled, almost slipping as he ran forwards to the noise.

He slid around the corner of the gold carriage to find D'Artagnan barring the way to a bruising looking fellow- the young man had backed himself against the door of the carriage, and the thief was holding a musket in his hands.

'Put it down!' Aramis growled, prodding his back with his Rapier. 'I won't ask again.'

Whereas in most circumstances when a man had a blade in his back, he'd surrender...this one seemed to have some kind of death wish. 'Tell your friend to move, and I will.' He growled back, quite calm.

'Are you deaf as well as stupid?' Aramis asked lightly, pressing harder. 'I said I won't ask again.'

'Well...' The man said, his back still to him, 'then you've just made a very stupid mistake.'

'Me? My friend, I-' the man moved as fast at the lightening that illuminated the scene as he turned to face Aramis, the barrel of the musket firm in his hands- Aramis, by the sheer grace of God himself, took this opportunity to conveniently slip on the thick mud under foot, and fall un-gracefully down onto his backside.

The musket shot was deafening, and Aramis was very glad it was the trees behind him that got the ball, and not his head- he heard Athos shout his name as he knelt up, hands balled into fists; he punched the man in the belly, before levering himself upwards and striking him across the face.

'I think it was you that made the mistake!' He spat, delivering the final blow as the man lurched to the ground. As he sank to the floor his eyes met with d'Artagnan, who had paled considerably.

'Amateur .' He muttered, before nodding at the lad. 'Nice work.' He smiled, making to pat him on the shoulder.

'ARAMIS!' The scream of warning from Athos came too late. He stiffened as a pain ripped through his stomach, coupling with the smell of smoke and the blast of another musket.

His eyes widened as d'Artagnan clasped his shoulder to keep him upright. 'Aramis?' He muttered, eyes scanning for danger.

'Always...keep your eyes...open.' Aramis growled through gritted teeth, cursing himself for not looking around. He sank to his knees, putting a hand underneath his coat as a war cry sounded and Porthos cut through the man that had shot him as he was reloading. 'Take that you bastard!' He growled, eyes wild.

Aramis took his hand back out, balking as he saw blood. 'Aramis!' Athos cried, falling to his knees in the mud beside him, eyes roving his face before looking for his wound.

'Where? Where?' He asked urgently, face ashen.

'Gut shot.' Aramis growled, biting back a groan. 'Nothing I can't...handle...' He sat in the mud, rain falling in their faces. He closed his eyes as pain enveloped him. He let out a long, low moan as Athos cut through his white linen uniform. 'How bad?' He asked as Athos let out a groan of his own.

'How bad?' He demanded again, looking to Porthos as his friend came near.

'We need help.' Athos muttered, before looking round and swearing.

'There's nothing round here...' Porthos replied, panic levels rising.

'Aramis needs help or he's going to die.' Athos looked across at his old friend- his eyes met panicked blue ones. Aramis squeezed his eyes together again as pain shot like fire across his stomach- he yelled out, before trying to quell his pain by grinding his teeth together, and as he did Athos looked across to D'Artagnan, who was clasping Aramis' shoulder.

'We've got to get him back to Paris. Fast.'

If only it were that simple...

Thanks for reading! Lots more whump to come!

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Next chapter up soon!