Authors note: A little something I bashed out this evening. I'm working on a longer story, but this would not leave me alone. I hope you enjoy it.

The Bridge

Chapter One

Athos and d'Artagnan watched as Porthos scrambled out of the window before turning and practically dragging Aramis after him. They tore across the ornate, manicured lawn at a sprint. Aramis was holding the papers they had been sent to retrieve and was stuffing them, with little care, into his doublet.

'I think we should run,' said d'Artagnan as he grabbed Athos shoulder to turn him around. Athos nodded his agreement and took off after d'Artagnan.

Porthos and Aramis were not far behind them, Athos could hear their boots crunching on the gravel of the chateaux's sweeping drive. D'Artagnan was out of the gates and had turned to his right and was heading towards the bridge and their horses. Athos knew that once they were across the bridge and had mounted up they would be able to escape with ease.

The man they had been sent to liberate the paperwork from was known to dislike horses, so he had none, despite there being an extensive stable block to the side of his home. The men who were pursuing them could only do so on foot. Athos chanced a look back. Following Aramis who was at the back of their little group Athos could see five men. They had heard a gun shot just before Porthos had jumped out of the window, so Athos suspected there had been six men.

The men following them were gaining on the musketeers. But the men following had probably not been riding hard for two days and barely slept in that time. The four of them were close to exhaustion. He was not surprised they were being caught up. As they reached the bridge Athos heard a grunt. He looked around and saw that one of the men had grabbed Porthos around the knees having dived at him in a last-ditch attempt to stop their escape.

Porthos was not hurt and kicked the man for his troubles before scrambling up and drawing his sword. He was soon engaged in a fight.

Athos was similarly accosted by two of the other men, he held them off with ease. All he needed to do was wait for an opening and he could deal with them. D'Artagnan and Aramis were fighting a man each.

Athos had been forced halfway across the bridge by his somewhat enthusiastic opponents. Porthos was a few yards in front of him with Aramis further back. The bridge was high, the landscape creating a natural defence for the old chateaux. The bridge was the only, easy, way to reach the building.

One of the men in front of him lunged towards him a little haphazardly. Athos took advantage and sliced his main gauche across the man's throat. The second man paused for a fraction of a second and paid for the hesitation with his life.

A yell from Aramis drew Athos' attention.

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They had been surprised to have reached the mans office so easily. Aramis was busy going through the paperwork in the desk, opening drawers and leafing through folders. Porthos was watching the entrance way through a crack in the barely open door. The window they had jemmied open sending a slight breeze into the room.

'Come on, our luck ain't gonna hold out much longer,' he said as Aramis pulled open the last drawer.

'I think this is it…'said Aramis, his brow furrowing as he scanned the document, he looked up and nodded.

Porthos walked from the door he had been guarding and headed straight to the window, eager to leave the chateaux before anyone noticed they were there. Aramis followed him. A faint sound drew his attention, some sixth sense had him turn, drawing his gun at the same time. Creeping up behind Aramis was a man holding a large candlestick. The man was about to hit Aramis with the improvised weapon, a blow, which if it did not kill his friend, would have left him seriously injured.

Porthos levelled his gun, he had no choice, and fired. A shocked Aramis turned back to see the recently deceased man collapse to the floor the candlestick landing on top of his still form.

'Come on…' urged Porthos as he reached the window and scrambled inelegantly out.

He turned and grabbed Aramis, pulling him out with haste. They broke into a fast run across the lawns towards their friends and the freedom they knew their horses would bring.

As they reached the bridge Porthos was annoyed to find himself forced to the ground. The man wrapped around his knees received as swift kick to the face for his troubles. Porthos regained his footing at the same time as his assailant. They drew their swords and began to fight.

The others were all engaged in their own fights. Porthos could not see Athos or d'Artagnan. He could see Aramis to his left forcing his opponent back a few paces and clearly on the verge of taking the man out. Porthos returned to his own fight.

The man was not using a parrying dagger so Porthos was quick to knock the sword aside and step in with a forceful stab to the man's gut. The dying man looked a little annoyed as he slid off Porthos' sword to the ground.

A yell from Aramis caused him to turn around.

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As they made their way from the room Porthos turned around raising his gun, Aramis did not know why until his friend fired and hit the man who had been creeping up behind him.

'Come on…' urged Porthos, not that Aramis needed much urging. The gun shot would have alerted the whole chateaux to their presence.

Porthos was out of the window and had paused. As Aramis went to pull himself through he was grabbed by Porthos and almost lifted out. His friend was clearly keen to make his escape. Aramis was of the same mind.

They ran hard, Aramis could sense the men closing in on them and was not very surprised when one of the men jumped forward passed him grabbing Porthos around the legs and bringing him to the ground.

Aramis did not have much time to take stock of their situation. He knew Porthos was on his feet again and that Athos was facing two men whilst d'Artagnan was to his left a little further onto the bridge fighting another.

His man was probably the weakest of the five. He forced the man back and it did not take him long to become uncoordinated and make a mistake that Aramis took advantage of. The man clutched at the wound to his throat as he sank to his knees.

Aramis paid him no further attention. He turned to assess which of his friends needed help. D'Artagnan had been forced right to the edge of the bridge which had a low wall running along its side. Aramis could see what was going to happen before it did so. He yanked his gun from his belt, hoping he would be in time but knowing that he would not be.

The man fighting d'Artagnan forced the musketeer back another step, his feet hit the low wall and he toppled backwards, the look of abject terror on his face was palpable.

Aramis yelled, raised his gun, and shot the man who was responsible for killing their brother.

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The men following them had gained quickly. D'Artagnan heard Porthos grunt as he was taken to the ground. Two men ran passed him and engaged Athos in a fight. He turned, just in time to fend off the first of several furious strokes of the sword of his opponent. The man was about his age and determined.

He took a couple of steps back, he was aware that where he was the man fighting him was likely to knock into Aramis. If that were to happen it might give the marksman's opponent the upper hand. Porthos was busy dealing with his opponent and d'Artagnan was aware of the clash of swords to his right where Athos was busy fighting two men.

He knew their skills were more than a match for the ill trained men, but it would only take a small mistake from one of them to cause injury or death. They were all fatigued from the journey.

The man fighting him pushed him back another step. The man was aggressive with his actions, d'Artagnan hoped this would cause him to make a mistake he could exploit. Another forceful step forward had d'Artagnan take another step back.

He had been aware that he had his back to the side of the bridge but had not thought much about it until the moment he hit the low wall. His heel clipped the stonework and his own momentum carried him backwards. The man in front of him grinned in triumph as d'Artagnan realised he would not be able to stop himself falling.

He felt weightless as he fell, he hoped he would die when he hit the ground, he knew the fall would not be survivable. The thought of a slow drawn out death from multiple injuries was not something he could bare.

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