Traitor's Chase (25 page)

“Look out, D'Artagnan!” Aramis sprinted past Greg, desperate to save Milady as well. The scribe didn't seem to be bothered by any of the wounds he'd suffered, either.

Only Porthos seemed to be as fatigued as Greg. He came last, lumbering through the woods, gasping for breath. “She has to get herself into trouble
now
?” he gasped. “She couldn't wait ten minutes to let us catch our breath?”

Greg suspected the timing wasn't random at all, however. Everything seemed much too convenient; Milady just happening to show up way out here, at this moment, when the boys were exhausted and battered from battle. He called after Athos and Aramis again. “Stop! I don't think we can trust her!”

The boys each looked back his way for a second, then continued on.

Greg turned to Porthos, desperate. “Maybe you should call to them. They're not listening to me.”

“Why should they?” Porthos asked harshly. “You're the one who hasn't been honest here.” With that, he trudged on ahead after the others.

Greg hadn't gone far—just a bit above the point where the top tier of the aqueduct met the mountainside—but he was wiped out from the night's adventure. His legs ached and his lungs burned. He watched helplessly as his fellow Musketeers disappeared over a small rise ahead.

Behind him, on the far side of the river, he could see the last of the Spanish army retreating. It seemed he should feel some joy about this—or at least a sense of relief. After all, he and the Musketeers had managed to repel the Spanish and save France. They'd prevented Dinicoeur from altering the course of history. And he had retrieved half of the Devil's Stone, which he now clutched tightly as he staggered uphill. But still, all Greg felt was a sense of foreboding, as if he wasn't out of this yet.

“They may not trust you, but I do.” Catherine was suddenly at his side, steadying him as he struggled to climb.

Greg turned to her and saw that she meant it. “We need to stop them,” he said.

“Why? What do you think she's up to?”

Before Greg could answer, there was a commotion ahead. He heard the shouts of his fellow Musketeers, the clang of swords, a scream of pain from Aramis. Catherine started to race in that direction, but Greg caught her arm. “No,” he said.

“But they're in trouble.”

“And if we go that way, we'll be in it with them.” Greg tucked the Devil's Stone away and withdrew his sword. “We'll circle around to get the jump on them.”

He had only gone a few steps, however, before Milady's voice rang through the forest. She no longer sounded as though she was in danger. Instead, her voice was almost taunting. “D'Artagnan and Catherine, we know you're out there. If you show yourselves, your friends might live. Try anything foolish … and they'll die.”

Greg shared a concerned look with Catherine.

“What do we do now?” Catherine asked.

“Exactly as she says.” Greg sighed. He lowered his sword, and clutching Catherine's hand, came over the top of the rise.

He found himself in a large clearing. Milady stood at the far side of it. She wore a clean new dress and a devious smile.

The Musketeers, on the other hand, were in considerably worse shape. They had been ambushed. Six swordsmen had laid them flat on their bellies in the center of the clearing and now stood over them, the blades of their weapons resting on the boys' necks.

“Apparently, we should have listened to you,” Porthos told Greg.

Aramis and Athos were too stunned to speak. Both just stared at Milady, confused and stunned by her betrayal. Aramis appeared heartbroken, while Athos seethed with anger.

“Drop your sword,” Milady told Greg.

Greg saw he didn't have a choice. He let his weapon clatter to the ground. More men emerged from the trees behind him, their blades aimed at him and Catherine.

“D'Artagnan has something else with him,” Milady told them. “A magic item of some sort. Check him carefully for it.”

Two men forced Greg to the ground. While one pinned him, the other patted him down and quickly came across the Devil's Stone. He held it up to Milady. “Is this what you mean?”

“No, but that's very interesting.” Milady crossed the clearing and took the stone. Her eyes glittered as she stared into it. “This must be one half of that Devil's Stone everyone wants so badly. The other half is somewhere in Paris, correct?”

Greg looked to her, surprised.

“Yes, I know all about it,” she told him. “I keep my ears open, you see.” She tucked the Devil's Stone into the folds of her dress, then spoke to the soldier who'd found it. “The item I'm looking for is a small metal box with strange powers.”

Her stooge dutifully frisked Greg and found the phone. He stared at it curiously until Milady demanded, “Bring it to me.”

“That's of no use to you!” Greg protested. “Please, I need it....”

“I'm sure you do.” Milady took the phone, inspected it curiously, then slipped it into her purse.

“There's no point to any of this,” Greg told her. “Face it, Milady, your plans have failed. We've repelled the Spanish army and defeated Dinicoeur. The French army is on its way. You and this small group will be powerless against them.”

Milady burst into laughter. “Oh, D'Artagnan, you've been much more alert than your fellow Musketeers. You almost caught me that day at the waterfall. In fact, you would have if you'd realized I wasn't
leaving
a message for the enemy. I was retrieving one.”

Greg winced, thinking back to that day at the falls. Milady hadn't taken anything
out
of her boot. She'd been putting something into it.
If only I'd thought to search her
, Greg thought.

“You were right,” Milady continued cruelly. “I
was
plotting against all of you. But not with Dinicoeur. With
him
.”

A young man stepped into the clearing. He was around twenty, with curly blond hair and a devilish smirk. He was startlingly handsome, and Milady knew it; she stared at him in the way most men stared at her. “Well done, Milady,” he told her. “That went even better than you'd predicted.”

He then turned to face the boys, revealing the white rose emblazoned on his tunic. “I suspect you know who I am?”

“Condé,” Athos snarled.

“The
Prince
of Condé,” he corrected. “The rightful heir to the throne of France.”

“We merely took advantage of Dinicoeur's scheme to distract you,” Milady explained. “Now, because of the message you sent King Louis, the entire French army is on its way here, leaving Paris vulnerable to attack.”

“And you have your own army,” Greg said. He felt as though he was standing at the edge of a chasm. He'd just repelled an entire army, defeated Dinicoeur, and regained half the Devil's Stone … only to find himself facing another enemy and losing the stone again.

“Yes, I do,” Condé said with a smirk. “Thanks to all of you, it will soon conquer Paris—and I will take my rightful place as king of France.”

I
DID A GOOD AMOUNT OF RESEARCH IN THE SOUTH OF
France for this book, and so I need to thank my wife, Suzanne, who accompanied me on that journey. It didn't take a whole lot of arm-twisting to convince my wife to join me on a trip to the south of France, but I think she would have preferred to spend more time exploring quaint little towns and less time exploring dark underground chambers or clambering about ancient Roman aqueducts in the rain. Thanks for being such a good sport, Hon.

In that spirit, I also need to thank my in-laws, Barry and Carole Patmore, for watching our children while we were away. This book wouldn't have happened without their help.

Finally, I'd like to thank my old friend Larry Hanauer, who first convinced me to visit many of the places in this book with him back when we were in college. If not for him, I might never have learned about the fascinating history of southern France, explored the Roman ruins of Arles, or descended into a cryptoporticus. Hopefully, dear reader, I can now pass at least some of that excitement of discovery on to you.

STUART GIBBS
lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children, Dashiell and Violet. He is the author of
THE LAST MUSKETEER
as well as two other novels for young-adult readers,
BELLY UP
and
SPY SCHOOL
. Stuart is also a screenwriter, and when he isn't penning scripts or novels, he can be found honing his swordsmanship skills, which are formidable. Since he isn't likely to be traveling back to seventeenth-century Paris, Stuart has decided to leave the fighting to Greg and his compatriots. You may visit Stuart online at www.stuart-gibbs.com.

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The Last Musketeer

Cover art © 2012 by Poly Bernatene

Cover design by Erin Fitzsimmons

The Last Musketeer: Traitor's Chase

Copyright © 2012 by HarperCollins Publishers

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ISBN 978-0-06-204841-7

EPub Edition © JUNE 2012 ISBN 9780062048431

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