"Any luck?" Vitalstitistix inquired, as the various search parties gathered back in the village center. It was well in the afternoon by now, and the wind had picked up considerably, indicating that a storm was underway. The air was cold, more so than it had been before, probably because the clouds now covered the sun's warming rays.
Asterix felt as though his answer were as heavy as lead. "Not at all. If he's here, then he's gotten very good at hiding overnight." Obelix had always been very poor at playing hide and seek, due to him thinking he was considerably smaller than he was. He never seemed to realize that his sizely girth could not fit in the small places he used to climb into, and he had not lost that illusion even as an adult. "I don't understand this!" the blond Gaul said in frustration. "Why would he be hiding from us? Where would he go?"
"Maybe he's down by the waterside," Cacofonix suggested. The bard was well bundled up, even more so than usual. Despite everyone's insisting he stay inside, out of the cold, he had made sure he was a part of the search for their friend, sick or no. "You know how he likes it down there."
Asterix sighed sadly, eyes downcast. "No, Fulliautomatix and I checked. There aren't even any footprints in the snow down there." And Obelix, without a shadow of a doubt, would have left footprints.
Unhygienix patted his own arms in an attempt to keep warm. His boar-fur tunic and woolen scarf did little against the cold, and it was only his worry and friendship to Obelix that kept him away from his warm hearth and family. He and several others had gone down to Obelix's quarry, hoping to find the large Gaul there. But they hadn't. "You...You don't suppose he went for a walk and got lost, do you?"
Asterix shook his head with absolute certainty. "Not Obelix. He can always find his way home, especially around mealtimes." Obelix, despite his lack of knowledge of many things, even the stars, had always been very good at finding his way. When Asterix had asked him how he knew where to go, the large Gaul had simply shrugged, saying that he just knew. Asterix felt a prick of sorrow and pain in his soul, his fear clearly evident in his eyes. "I...I know he was upset about what happened yesterday...but, he's been upset before, and he was always very straightforward with it. He'd always come and talk with me." Obelix never held anything inside. When something was wrong, he always spoke his mind. The fact that he had just up and disappeared left an ache in Asterix's heart that he couldn't quite place.
A shadow fell over the small warrior and, half out of habit and half out of hope, he spun around, almost expecting it to be Obelix. He was sorely disappointed. Lycurgus, proud and bare-chested as always, stood over him, looking down at him as if he was lower than dirt. And yet, for the first time, the man seemed to be addressing Asterix directly, without the full weight of contempt that his voice usually held. "Do I understand correctly that you are searching for the big Gaul?"
"Obelix," Asterix corrected, a little bitterly. "Yes." He still didn't trust this man, but there was no reason to be rude, even if he wanted to. The man had never done anything to hurt them, and he had seemed to have warmed up to Obelix quite a bit. Perhaps he was just concerned. "Have you seen him?"
The tall, stately man gazed out in the direction of the gate, rather dramatically, eyes slowly taking in the walls and the forest treetops he could just barely see beyond. "I have indeed," he intoned lowly. "He left your village yesterday, to take a long journey to 'correct his mistake', as he put it." The lie, unbeknownst to any of the Gauls, even Asterix, slipped from his lips without even the slightest effort.
A look of confusion swept across Asterix's face, along with a fair amount of worry. "Correct his mistake? How? He hasn't done anything wrong!'' Of that he was certain. Obelix was the most innocent, child-like person he had ever known. He loved food, enjoyed a good punch-up with the Romans, and cared more for their village than anyone could truly realize. Obelix not only hadn't done anything wrong, he was practically incapable of doing anything wrong. At least, that was how Asterix felt. A few instances came to mind, but he pushed them away. None of them held any relevance to the current situation.
"Well, he certainly seemed to think so," Lycurgus replied, almost indignantly, as though Asterix were calling him a liar. "He left for Burdigala, to see Abbadōn, who he believes will take away his strength. He believes that then you all will be safe from him hurting you."
"By Toutatis..." Getafix breathed, his hands clutching each other in front of his chest with an intensity that made his knuckles white. His eyes held an almost haunted look, and he turned noticeably paler.
Asterix was a little more indignant. "I don't believe that!" he shouted angrily. "Obelix values his strength! He loves being able to make menhirs and catch wild boar, and fight Romans! He'd never give that up!" Then, slightly more quietly, he added a slight mutter. "He knows we're not afraid of him hurting us..." He blinked down at his feet. Looking back up, he fixed Lycurgus with a firm glance. "His strength is what makes him who he is!" he finished strongly.
"More than you know, Asterix..."
Getafix's shaky voice broke into the warrior's rant, changing Asterix's anger to fear immediately. "W-What do you mean?" A feeling was growing deep inside of him. A familiar, sickening intuition, that told him things were far worse than he realized. That what Getafix was about to tell him would be bad. Really bad.
Getafix was shaking slightly, more out of distress than fear. He swallowed hard, knowing that his next words would hit Asterix very hard. "Obelix's body has been reliant on the M-" He stopped, eyes flitting to the gathering of strangers to the Gauls' right, before changing his word choice and continuing. "He had been reliant on his strength ever since he was little. It flows in his very veins, as it does with all of us, only in him I believe his blood contains more of it. Far more. If that were suddenly taken away..." Here came the blow. "Asterix...Obelix would die."
The little Gaul's brown eyes widened in absolute horror. His heart gave a violent twist, and that light inside of him, that he knew now so well, flickered in distress in an odd sense of pain. "We've got to stop him!" he cried. "He doesn't know what he's doing!"
"We'll leave at once," Getafix decided with finality. He had every intention of going along with Asterix. Firstly, because the little Gaul was injured; not to mention still struggling with certain events in the past, and secondly, he had a feeling his talents as a druid would be needed. Obelix was a kind-hearted, but spirited soul. He was almost as stubborn as he was round, and Getafix knew that solving this problem, or even making it there in time to stop it, would not be easy. But they needed to try. Obelix's life depended on it.
Asterix blinked in obvious surprise. "Getafix? But..."
"Don't look so surprised. I am more than capable of traveling when the need calls for it. And this certainly does." The druid's smile faltered into one of deep worry and concern. "Asterix, Abbadōn is a sorceress. She is evil. I don't know whether she has the power to take away Obelix's strength or not, but even if she tries, the damage will more than likely be irreversible." Those words sent chills down all the Gauls spines, and caused their hearts to drop like a cold lump in their stomachs.
"I understand," Asterix answered solemnly. "Let me grab a few supplies from my hut." His eyes saddened further. "If only we had Dogmatix. He would be able to help us follow Obelix's trail in no time."
"The dog is in Obelix's hut," Itylus spoke up, as unemotionally as possible. "He had wanted to join Obelix, but the big Gaul would not allow it. Obelix locked him in the store room of his cottage." The Gauls' reaction was simultaneous.
"WHAT?!"
The thought of Obelix doing such a thing seemed extremely out of place. None of them could imagine the large Gaul doing anything that would, in anyway, make Dogmatix unhappy. It just wasn't something Obelix would do. Of course, Obelix would never have run away either, under normal circumstances. Something was wrong with him, and that made him locking Dogmatix up slightly more believable.
"I'll go let him out!" Cacofonix cried, running off to do so without even checking to see if that was alright. He didn't need too. If he hadn't volunteered, someone else would have. The bard slipped and skidded off in the direction of the menhir deliveryman's hut, trying not to run too fast and induce yet another fit of coughing. The others watched him go a moment, before turning back to the conversation.
"I'll pack some food and water," Getafix agreed, already heading in the direction of his hut, his white robe blending in with the blank snow all around him. "The journey to Burdigala is long, and we don't know how long it will take us to catch up with Obelix."
"WAIT." Lycurgus's voice was loud and demanding; not a yell, but strong and intimidating enough to be one. The tall man stood forward, his followers watching him curiously, as the Gauls did so with more hesitation. "Itylus, my Right Hand, will accompany you on your journey. He is a remarkable tracker, and will lead you well." He motioned to Itylus, who stepped forward with a hint of confusion.
Asterix didn't really fancy the idea of taking one of these strangers along. He was stressed enough as it was. He was so tired now, and fed up with all the confusion, he was just about ready to stomp off and find Obelix himself, right there and then. "But this isn't your concern. Are you sure you'd be willing to do such a thing for someone you hardly know?" His eyes burned into Itylus's own, and the traveler felt all at once very uncomfortable, afraid that, somehow, Asterix would be able to see right through his lies.
"Obelix treated me well when I stayed with him," Itylus explained as honestly as he could under the circumstances. And it was true. Obelix had opened up his home to a stranger, which was quite a thing, especially when these Gauls knew nothing of their guests. It almost hurt, knowing that the Gauls were sadly mistaken in where they had put their trust. But it was too late now. Too late. "He is an honorable man, and I owe him my help." He glanced over at Lycurgus, who nodded ever so slightly in approval at his mask of dishonesty.
Asterix nodded, to much in a hurry to truly care. He just wanted to get started, before Obelix got too far ahead of them. It was taking his strongest metal restraint not to burst out in anger at the travelers for not telling them of their friend's departure sooner. But that couldn't be helped now. "Very well. Your help will be appreciated," he answered sincerely. Or, at least, as sincerely as he could manage. "Gather whatever you will need for travel, and then we'll set out." With that, the warrior ran off in the direction of his hut, to gather his own supplies. The Gauls and villagers shifted on their legs, awaiting the druid and warrior's return.
"My Lord," Itylus muttered lowly, quietly enough that the Gauls would not hear him, and with confusion written on his features. "Why have you arranged this so? Will not it just be easier to let the two fools leave? Then they would be out of the way, and the village would be ours." He said so with as much respect as he could muster, not wanting his words to bring about his leader's wrath.
Lycurgus nodded, not the least bit bothered by his inquiry. "No. There is always the chance that they may return. I am sending you to make sure they don't find their friend, nor return. Our plan is working out well. With the warrior and the druid gone, this village will be at our mercy. It is time to bring order to chaos, and perfection to the weak. Go, Itylus, and do not disappoint me." He lay a strong hand on the younger man's shoulder, causing Itylus cringe ever so slightly.
"Yes, My Lord."
Asterix ran into his hut so fast the door of his cottage was slammed open, hitting the broom he always kept behind it and knocking it to the floor. He didn't even consider taking the time to pick it up, instead stepping hurriedly over it into the warm interior of his cottage. He rushed purposefully across the well-packed dirt floor, making his way swiftly up the ladder to his loft. Which wasn't an easy task with one arm strapped tightly in a sling. He was keeping all his most valuable possessions up there at the moment, do to the guest he had been letting stay in his home. While he always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, he had not wanted his things out in the open; especially those of major importance, like his sword and gourd of Magic Potion. He was not, for perhaps the first time in years, wearing his sword or potion. Due to the accident the day before, Asterix had been laid up in bed. He hadn't wanted them in Getafix's hut, out in plain sight, and so had given them to Vitalstitistix to bring to his hut. On the upper floor of his home, under a floorboard beneath his bed, was a small storage area that he had made himself. He kept all manner of things within it, as well as a number of extra weapons for emergencies. It was a safe, hidden spot, and only he, Getafix, Obelix, and the Chief knew where it was.
Kneeling down and removing the board as swiftly as possible with his uninjured hand, Asterix slid the heavy wood lid aside and reached down into the gape to pull out his sword and gourd of potion. He strapped both to his belt, feeling already more secure with their weight against his sides. He would most likely need them both. Having both at his side was something he had born since he had grown big enough to hold a weapon. Even to that day, he could barely explain how he had become village warrior. It had just sort of...happened. And since then, those two objects had been with him all over the known world. Maybe even beyond that. They were a part of him, and he treasured them dearly.
Needless to say, he was scared out of his wits this time though. It seemed to be where their enemies always seemed to hit him. His weak spot, which consisted of his home and friends; especially Obelix. Only this time, there was no enemy, not that he could see. It was just Obelix, going off and doing something stupid. Something that Asterix didn't understand. And it scared him badly. He felt guilty, wondering if, somehow, it was all his fault. Had he said something? Done something? He couldn't remember. But, whatever the reason for Obelix running away, Asterix was determined to fix it. He wanted to help, and bring his friend back safe and sound.
He was about to place the cover back over the opening, satisfied with what he had gotten, when something caught his attention, down inside, that made him freeze. Laying there, dusty and faded slightly, was a cloth, wrapped around something that he hadn't given much thought for a while now. After a moment of indicision, the Gaul reached down and gently lifted it out. He set it on the floor by his knees as he knelt, again pausing. Then, carefully, he unwrapped it.
A golden pin, an emblem of fine make and beauty, sat among the rag like a diamond among soot. It shown in the daylight coming through the window, dim as it was, twinkling up at him like a reminder of its significance. Intricate designs wove all over its surface, twists and knots of finely carved lines, not of any specific picture, but lovely all the same. Symbols that were distinctly Druidic were delicately carved on it's every angle, the whole thing small enough to fit in the palm of Asterix's hand. It brought back many emotions, ones he had nearly forgotten. It had been given to him by the Venerable Druid, that the elder said was the emblem of the Soul Light and that with it any druid he came upon would know who and what he was; a Solas Anam, and would give him whatever he needed.
Asterix had greatly treasured it, not only because it was a rare gift from the most honorable of druids, but had once beloved to Prolix, a druid who had possessed the same light that Asterix himself held. A druid who Mastix had murdered, near thirty-five years before. It was an honor, really, and Asterix had always thought of it as such. But it also held a great deal of sadness. Not his own sadness, but the sadness of a life lost...or, maybe, two. Mastix was yet another life lost, as evil as his existence had been. And Asterix had just not had a serious enough reason to carry it, or get by his initial feeling about it.
Now he held it in his hand, studying it, despite his prior urgency to leave. He couldn't think of any reason why he should bring it with him. Not one. But then, a sort of nagging was nudging him deep inside. It was a feeling he had come to trust and recognize, and not take the least bit lightly. With a deep breath, he closed his fingers around it, closing his hand into a firm fist.
He would take it with him.
Sliding the board back in place, Asterix carefully descended the ladder. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he was running again, back to the village square, grabbing his scarf and mittens off his table as he passed. He knew on this journey, he would need them. The air was frigid, but it couldn't possibly come anywhere close to his frigid terror and worry over his best friend's disappearance.
Asterix made his way back to the village center, taking in the many sad, frightened faces that watched him as he approached. He knew the other Gauls were afraid for Obelix, but that look gave him a sick feeling inside. They had lived in peace since Mastix. The look of fear that had been so permanently pasted in their expressions for all that time had just been beginning to fade. But now, something had taken place to make it flicker back to life. Like an ember reignited, that painful look of worry was back. He could see it in their eyes, in the very way they were standing. Asterix hated that look. He had hated it before, because it had always been him that those feeling existed for. This time was worse, because it was Obelix that was in danger now, not himself. And Asterix hated that far more.
Joining the crowd that had gathered in the center, not only of villagers, but also their guests, Asterix adjusted his sword absently. Getafix returned almost right after he had, carrying a sack of various things, food and such, though Asterix suspected that he had also grabbed a few potions or powders. Giving his friend a nervous smile, that really held no humor, Asterix steeled himself for the journey. "You ready?"
"Just about," Getafix replied, checking the content of his sack once more. It wouldn't do to leave and find he had forgotten something. Once they had gone, there would not be time to come back for any neglected items. The druid was feeling rather shaky. He had not left the village since his trip to the Carnutes five months before. Since then, he had been happy and content to stay in the village. Maybe even, in a sense, he had been hiding there. He had never given that fact much thought. He hadn't needed to. But now, preparing to go, he felt a heavy reluctance settle in his heart. A reluctance that he was certain had never been there before. But Obelix was in trouble. And that was worth going against any hesitation.
Getafix may have got frustrated with Obelix from time to time, but he cared for the Gaul deeply. Ever since he had first seen the little, plumb fellow, Obelix had given him many enduring reasons to chuckle. As well as scaring the daylights out of him. The day that Obelix had fallen into the Magic Potion had been, perhaps, one of the most frightening moments of the druid's life. He had had no idea how the boy would be affected. He had never tested it on one so young, in fact, even to that day Getafix only let children drink it during emergencies. It was far too strong for young ones, as Obelix's incident had shown. The druid still regretted not closing the door to his hut more securely back then, believing that, had he done so, Obelix would not have wandered inside and fallen into the cauldron. But that was all far in the past. Obelix had done just fine, up until now. In fact, his strength had become a kind of saving grace in many instances. Why Obelix would wish to be relieved of all that was beyond Getafix's understanding, and he intended to find the large Gaul and find out himself, before Obelix did something he would deeply regret.
That they would all deeply regret.
A sharp barking filled the air, and everyone turned as a small, white dog charged into the village center, yipping and sliding all over the place. Cacofonix was right behind him, trying to catch the pup, but not doing very well in that respect. "Dogmatix, no! No, no! Come!" He ended up coughing, coming to a halt until the fit passed. By that time, Dogmatix had found his way to Asterix, yapping and barking urgently.
Asterix picked the small animal up, his heart aching at the sight of the little one without his master. He soothed the pup carefully, trying to get him to stay in his arms rather than jump back down to the snow. "Dogmatix, come on, boy. We have to find Obelix. Please, calm down." He pet his hand through the pure white fur, talking softly.
Asterix's gentle voice seemed to work on the dog, and his barking calmed considerably. Sniffing the air, Dogmatix struggled to catch any scent of Obelix, whether it be on the wind or anywhere nearby. Asterix set the pup back down, allowing him to walk to and fro, smelling left and right, tale held high as he searched carefully for any sign of his beloved master. All at once, Dogmatix started off, running several feet before stopping and looking back at them with a sharp, commanding bark.
"He's already on the trail!" Unhygienix shouted excitedly.
Lycurgus nodded in approval, eyeing the small creature. "He is well trained to the scent. He also will lead you well. Itylus will pick up the trail when the dog cannot." He turned an eye to his second, indicating with a harsh glare that there would be no argument. Itylus, a small satchel over one shoulder, stepped forward, joining Getafix and Asterix, dwarfing them with his stature. Dogmatix gave him a warning growl, but no one else noticed.
Asterix shook Vitalstitistix's hand, pumping it with more enthusiasm than he truly felt. "We'll be back as soon as we find him," he promised, sharing a look of worry that only the other Gauls could understand. They all knew how close Asterix and Obelix were. They had seen the pain Asterix's situation with Mastix had caused the large Gaul, and now, even though he was hiding it well, they could see that same pain reflected in Asterix.
The Chieftain gave a firm, encouraging nod, looking Asterix right in the eyes. He held the smaller man's gaze worriedly, holding his hand a fraction of a second longer, trying to reassure him. "Be careful."
Asterix nodded. Adjusting his sling a little more comfortably, he turned, giving his friends a smile that was only half of what it had always been. He was terrified for Obelix, but he was also worried for them. His eyes wandered over to the group of travelers, watching from the sidelines. He knew that they couldn't possibly understand what this was like for them. They didn't understand the deep relationship all the Gauls shared. The visitors were different; almost aloof of each other's needs, even among themselves. But that wasn't why he didn't trust them. He didn't trust them because of Lycurgus. The way the man was watching him intently, even if Asterix didn't know why. Maybe that was just the man's way. But, just to be safe, he shook Fulliautomatix's hand as he passed, whispering that the blacksmith not give the visitors back their weapons until he or Vitalstitistix said otherwise. Fulliautomatix's eyes had flitted in the travelers direction, before returning to Asterix with a nod. He understood. Getafix, likewise, managed to slip it to Vitalstitistix that he had left them some Magic Potion, hidden in the back room of his hut. That made the chieftain feel far more prepared.
Shouldering what they were bringing with them, Getafix, Asterix, and Itylus left through the gates, led by little Dogmatix, and a crowd of waving villagers behind them, calling encouragement and warnings to remain on the trail.
"Stay safe!"
"Don't get too cold!"
"Tell Obelix we miss him! And that we want him back!"
"Eh?! Where are they go'n?!"
"Shh! Just wave."
Behind them all, away from the calls and shouts of the villagers, Lycurgus and his followers stood watching in silence. Arms crossed over his chest, the leader seemed to smile, even though it couldn't quite be called one. His eyes roved over the village, now void of its warrior and its druid. His deep voice rumbled low, so only those of his kind could hear.
"The time...is right."
Whew! I had a terrible time getting in the writing mood for this, and I have no idea why! I guess it's because I'm so tired...But I think the inspiration is coming back again, so no worries ;)
Please keep my grandfather in your prayers, he is in the hospital, in urgent care, all day today and yesterday. He had water on his lungs and he needed something called dialysis done to him. They said he was in really bad shape, but he's doing a little better now. I'm very worried so, please, any prayer would be wonderful. Thank you.