Double Trouble

Chapter Five: The Chase

The Chase:

Athos and Porthos speed ahead, hooves thundering beneath them, as they find themselves in a race for their lives. Neither man would run for their own personal safety but would stand and fight like Musketeers. However, they would do anything to save their two wounded brothers tucked tightly in their arms. Both Musketeers know the wounded men need medical attention soon; or neither one will last the day. This is a race against time.

Their horses are tiring and slowing, it won't be too long before the raiders catch up. A shot rings out behind them, the ball whizzes past Athos's ear, causing him to instinctively duck. Athos thinks twice about further dodging musket balls when he remembers Aramis in his arms. He would rather take a ball shielding his brother than have Aramis hurt.

More shots are fired from behind, making a buzzing sound as they fly by, missing their intended targets. Athos yells to Porthos they need to ride into the trees and try to lose the riders in the forest. They're running out of options as the raiders draw closer. Going into the forest is a better option than staying on the road as easy targets, being overrun and shot dead.

Porthos stares into the forest then throws a glance over his shoulder, frowning as he watches the raiders close in. He doesn't like this idea but he nods his agreement—as he can't think of a better idea at the moment. Athos steers toward the trees, with Porthos following close behind. He dodges and weaves between the trees, making his way to the older, thicker trees deeper in the forest. The larger trees will be perfect for cover on their zigzag path of escape.

The raiders follow them into the forest, yelling obscenities and laughing at the musketeer's peril. A shot is fired. Athos easily dodges around a tree, but from the corner of his eye, he sees Porthos flinch, jerking slightly in his saddle.

"Bloody hell!" Porthos growls.

"Are you hit?" Athos yells to Porthos. He tries to get a good look at his friend but there are too many trees passing between them to see.

"Nah, I'm fine," Porthos yells back. "It's just a graze, I'll be fine."

"It's just a graze where?" Athos yelled with concern.

Athos sees a rocky escarpment with scattered boulders on the path just ahead. He points, yelling to Porthos to take cover behind the rocks. Both men stop their horses behind a large boulder where it is safe from the raiders. . . for the moment.

"Now what?" Porthos yells to Athos, quizzically.

"Give me your pistols," Athos ordered.

"Wha' are gonna do?" Porthos was instantly alarmed. "You're not gonna do somethin' stupid, are ya?"

"They've got to reload and regroup," Athos answered. "While they're reloading, we're going to reload. . . and get you out of here."

"Whoa, hold on now," Porthos protested angrily. "You are not stayin' here fightin' them off by yourself!"

Athos looked at Porthos to see blood trickling down from a long graze to his neck from the musket ball. "Damn, I knew you were hit." Athos leaned closer on his saddle to see if the neck wound was serious but, considering it was a neck wound, thankfully it wasn't too bad. Athos got to business reloading the muskets while Porthos continued protesting.

"I'm not leavin' you here by yourself," Porthos argued. "Looks like there's about four or five of them raiders, there's two of us. I ain't leavin' you alone."

Athos looked hard at d'Artagnan slumped in the saddle-his face ashen, lips pale. "No, d'Artagnan doesn't have much time. He needs a physician soon or he dies, Aramis also. This is our only chance for you to get them both to a doctor. I will stay here and hold off the raiders while you ride away."