Obelix gave a sudden gasp, involuntarily wrenching his arm away from Asterix's weak, shaking grip. His withdrawal caused Asterix to fall to his knees, but, at the moment, that couldn't be helped. Pain had all at once erupted in the big Gaul's limb under his friend's touch; a stinging, burning sensation. Obelix looked at his arm in consternation, taking in the odd, blistering mark Asterix had left on his skin. It was a perfect imprint of a hand, the palm and each individual finger clearly distinguishable. The burn had turned the flesh a bright, irritated shade of pink, looking even more vibrant as it contrasted with the pale white of his unaffected skin. It still stung; a numbing, crawling tingle that made it both tickle and hurt. It was as if Obelix had accidentally brushed up against the heat of a dancing flame.

"Don't touch him!" Obelix exclaimed as several Gauls moved to assist Asterix, who was practically convulsing on the ground at their feet. He felt awful, giving an order like that; to leave his best friend kneeling in pain, but he had no choice. He didn't want anyone else to be burned. "There's something wrong! If you touch him, you'll get hurt!" The other Gauls shrank back, eyes wide and mouths shut tight. "Someone go get Getafix!"

After glancing about to see if anyone else was going to volunteer, Cacofonix took off like a frightened fawn, running for their druid as fast as his legs could carry him. He was the most logical candidate, being perhaps the fastest villager besides Obelix when not under the influence of the Magic Potion. His long, thin legs and years of learning to outrun enraged critics of his musical talents paid off as he disappeared from view in a matter of seconds.

"Oh my!"

Obelix turned at Impedimenta's exclamation. The Chief's wife, along with a number of the other woman, were fussing over Fulliatomatix and Unhygenix, who were holding their hands painfully in front of them; palms up. They were burned and blistered like Obelix's arm, looking quite nasty and irritated in the heated sunshine. The big Gaul realized that when the two men had caught Asterix, when he had collapsed, they too must have been scorched. How that was possible was beyond Obelix's understanding. As far as he knew, people weren't capable of burning people by simply touching them. This wasn't natural; and if it wasn't natural, it had to be magic. And if it was magic, it had to be Mastix. Again, the largest Gaul felt himself feeling a very strong dislike of the dark druid. He wished the fellow was within his reach; he'd soon make the man leave his friends alone. At least, that's what he wanted to think he would do. But, deep down, Obelix knew that not even he, with all his strength and size, could truly stand against something so powerful as true, evil magic.

Obelix looked back to his friend kneeling by his feet, quivering in agony. It was almost more than the big-hearted Gaul could bare. Getting down to his own knees, which wasn't exactly easy for a man of his girth, Obelix hovered his hands over Asterix, wishing with all his might to touch his friend to reassure the little Gaul that things were going to be alright. Asterix's skin had left painful marks on his arm and the other two mens' hands; Obelix couldn't hold Asterix without being hurt again himself. He couldn't carry him to Getafix; he couldn't do anything. But the little warrior looked so pained and frightened, Obelix was seriously considering reaching out and picking Asterix up despite it. But then, at a sudden idea, Obelix realized that, perhaps, Asterix's skin was the only thing that would burn him. Maybe his clothing would protect the larger Gaul against his friend's fiery touch. Without a second thought, Obelix tentatively reached out one of his huge, stone-hardened hands and lay it gently against Asterix's shivering back, where his black tunic covered him fully. Feeling no pain from the action, Obelix added a little more pressure in a comforting fashion. He was both relieved and worried when Asterix leaned into it, as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded against the pain. To Obelix it didn't feel like enough, but it was all he could do.

Vitalstitistix stood directly behind the largest Gaul, wringing his hands in agitation. A part of him couldn't believe this was happening. Things had been moving so fast since that morning, and now Asterix had been attacked twice. Vitalstitistix might not be the village warrior, but he was the village leader. He was in charge of the others. Like his father before him, Vitalstitistix was supposed to lead them; help them; direct them. In all honesty, his goal was never far off from that of Asterix. They both worked to keep the others safe and happy. The Chief made the decissions, so that others could perform them for the benefit of the village. It was the highest position in Gaulish culture; the most coveted and envied. It was supposed to be a sign of strength and bravery...but right now, looking down on his friend's suffering, all Vitalstitistix felt was weak and helpless. He should have known Petunia was a danger. Should have known nothing good ever came of mysterious strangers who came wandering into the village by the dark of night. He should have known.

Impedimenta stood beside her husband, a hand clutching his tightly as they watched in horror the events happening around them. Impedimenta's eyes had widened at the frighteningly dreadful burns on the blacksmith and fishmonger's hands, as well as Obelix's arm; worried about what such power was doing to Asterix himself. The little warrior was gasping for air, allowing Obelix to support his back, though he twitched and shook with each hitching breath. The Chief's wife had been startled when the menhir deliveryman had leaned forward to touch Asterix once more, after already having been burned once. But Impedimenta sighed in relief when the big Gaul received no pain from the action, as long as his contact stayed within the area of Asterix's clothes. Her eyes were full of sadness and fear as she took in the shorter Gaul's haggard appearance. Asterix was struggling to hang on; Impedimenta could tell. It really amazed her sometimes; the amount the small man could take. Asterix was only a few inches taller than her, and yet, as far as his bravery was concerned, he overshadowed them all. He was unique, courageous, and had a heart of gold. It made watching him suffer all the more excruciating.

Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix shared nervous glances. The pulsating pain in their hands had diminished to a dull sting; though neither man felt they could inspect them at the moment. Their stomachs had turned at the unexpected smell of burnt flesh, as well as the blisters that now covered their palms and fingers. They didn't think they would be able to handle another glance until their guts calmed themselves a little. Bacteria and Mrs. Fulliautomatix fussed over their husbands' charred injuries, trying to do their best not to faint at the sight, while attempting to comfort the men just by being beside them. The burns had been a shock. After all, when you touch someone, you don't tend to expect to feel as though you had grabbed a cauldron of scalding water. It had hurt, and the funny thing was that it hadn't hurt right away. For both Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix, neither man had truly felt the pain until after they had handed Asterix over to Obelix. Then they had felt it; and it wasn't an experience they wanted to undergo ever again.

The villagers all remained perfectly still, watching in agonized silence as the attack on Asterix continued. They fervently wished they could take the small warrior into one of the huts; any of the huts. Out here, in the open, they felt as if nothing was sheltering the smaller Gaul from Mastix's spell. Of course, they all knew that wouldn't make any difference. The attack would be just as strong and dangerous inside as it was outside. But it was as if the very air; the sunshine and bright, clear, blue sky were poison. Any one of them would have traded the beautiful day for a dark, humid cottage in a flash if it would have done any good. They felt frightened and helpless. There was nothing they could do; not until Cacofonix returned with Getafix. They prayed that their druid would be able to do something to help.

Obelix didn't move his gaze from Asterix. The big Gaul's stance was stiff and determined, as though he were preparing to stand against a hurricane. He didn't shift the pressure of his hand from Asterix's back, hoping that his friend would somehow feel comforted by it. There was no way in all of Gaul that Obelix was going to let go. The blond-haired warrior was shaking so violently it was a wonder he hadn't scooted along the sands. The grip he had on his own chest hadn't lessened any. In fact, as the seconds passed, he clutched tighter. With horror, Obelix realized his friend's attack was getting worse the more Asterix weakened.

To everyone's relief, a moment later, Cacofonix came speeding back, practically dragging Getafix by the sleeve of his white robe. It wasn't that the druid was reluctant to come, he just simply couldn't keep up with the village bard as he dashed madly along the paths. Coming to a halt so abruptly that they slid, Cacofonix pointed to Asterix with a nervous, shaking finger. Dumping an armful of herbs he had carried with him from his cottage, Getafix crouched down beside the two Gauls kneeling in the dust, his face panicked and not the least bit controlled. He reacted much the same as the others had to Asterix's condition, though he knew better than to touch his friend.

"It's Mastix!" Obelix burst out, stating the obvious in his intense fear. "He's attacking Asterix again!" The villagers flinched at the emotional pain the deep voice carried. Obelix and Asterix were inseparable. The two went everywhere together; did everything together. They were as different as night and day, but just as dependent on each other. Since birth they had been by one another's side, and now the sound in Obelix's voice spoke of a terrible fear that Asterix might be about to break that bond, if they couldn't do something at once to save him.

Getafix tried to keep his thoughts in order, though it was hard. His emotions were going wild, scattering his focus, threatening to throw him into utter panic. He stared at Asterix, taking in the symptoms he could visually see at a glance. Asterix's pale face, gasping breath, and desperate hold on his chest testified to the immense pain the little Gaul was enduring. The druid saw the twitching and shivering; having to fight down another surge of frantic energy when he noticed the faint, sinister glow shining from beneath Asterix's quivering hands. There was no doubt this was Mastix's doing. Getafix cursed his past fellow student under his breath as he began digging through the supplies he had brought from his hut. He couldn't understand why Mastix would target Asterix again, and so soon. They had no Magic Potion; could Mastix still be trying to force him to brew some by torturing his friend? The thought not only filled the druid with horror, but with rage. Obelix watched the druid's shaking hands as Getafix dug through the various herbs, selecting certain ones while discarding others.

"Please, Getafix! Put up the Neutralizing Spell! Please!"

As dense as Obelix could be sometimes, he often surprised his fellow Gauls whenever he was truly thinking clearly. While that rarely happened, when it did it came to him with a jolt and a kick; like a bolt of subconscious understanding that made him think of things or do things he wouldn't normally do. Now was one of those rare times. The obvious danger Asterix was in cleared his mind, causing him to remember what Getafix had said only a short time ago. A Neutralizing Spell would release Asterix; Obelix knew it would. Getafix had said it would leave Mastix powerless and, at the moment, that was exactly what needed to be done. Whether it was long term or no, this had to stop. Now!

Getafix looked up into the larger Gaul's eyes, seeing a panic that the druid knew was mirrored in his own expression. In all truthfulness, he had been planning to do just what Obelix was now asking. But he hesitated. He wasn't as convinced that the Neutralizing Spell would be such a good idea, as he had been before. The more he thought back, the more reluctant he was to try it. That spell hadn't exactly been one of his greatest triumphs. On the contrary, he might even count it among his worst failures. The experiment had been both disappointing and exhausting; something that would certainly be a disadvantage to them right now. It was too risky; too slim a chance...But then Getafix returned his sad gaze to Asterix. He couldn't let his friend continue to suffer. Not when there was something he could do to help. The druid made his decision then and there. The spell would work. He'd make it work.

Grabbing the last few ingredients from the colorful pile of supplies, Getafix placed the various herbs and roots into a small mortar he had had the discretion to bring. Taking the wooden pestle in hand, the druid ground the plants into a fine, grayish-brown powder that smelled oddly of dirt and coal. He did it far more quickly than he normally would; spilling a bit here and there over the brim, though not enough to cause a problem. Keeping an ever watchful eye on Asterix, Getafix carefully poured the dust-like substance into the palm of his hand. He shifted his eyes down to the powder, as if considering some last, unpleasant option; then he stood with the villagers still gathered all around. With a dramatic phrase in some unintelligible tongue that was forgotten the moment it was heard, the druid tossed the powder into the air with a jolt of his aging hand.

The particles didn't flutter to the ground like the Gauls had expected it to; instead being caught up into the air, as though a strong breeze had taken hold of it. Only there was no breeze. The atmosphere was completely calm. They watched the powder drift far above their heads in curiosity, surprised by the fact that the spell had been so subtle.

"Close your eyes!"

Getafix's shout came just in time, warning the villagers and startling them to action just seconds before the bright, silent explosion of iridescent light. Even through their lids and shielded faces, they saw the flash, causing colorful patterns to dance within their tightly shut eyes. When the explosion had passed, and they had all returned their gaze to the sky, they saw no difference. No odd coloration; no shimmering visible field. In fact, everything appeared disappointingly normal and very non-spell-like. As if nothing magical or out-of-the-ordinary had taken place at all.

Vitalstitistix blinked with confusion up at the clear blue sky. "Did...did it work?"

"Oh, it's working," Getafix replied in a strained voice. He was slightly paler than he had been a moment before, and was a little out of breath, but in all other regards, he seemed perfectly fine.

"Getafix!"

All eyes turned to Obelix. The large Gaul was now cradling Asterix, relieved that the burning sensation had left his friend's skin. Asterix was limp, but conscious; thoroughly exhausted from the harrowing experience. His hands still lay on his chest, even though the pain was undoubtedly gone. The light pressure helped to ease the dull ache that remained, as well as the memory of it. It was like that slight soreness one gets after the cramp in their leg has finally gone away; a kind of twinge that reminds one that they should be grateful the pain has passed. The small warrior was shivering, but it wasn't the body-wracking jolts from before. These were the leftover tremors of the little Gaul's shock and fear. Obelix looked down on him in great anguish, wishing there was more that he could do.

Getafix hurried forward, kneeling beside the two and reaching out a hand to check Asterix over. The druid would have liked to have lain Asterix on the ground, where he could better see him, but it was more than obvious that Obelix would be extremely reluctant to do so. Despite how gently he was holding his friend, the biggest Gaul's grip was firm; determined to keep all danger and pain away. Asterix was safe. If Mastix wanted to hurt the warrior again, he'd have Obelix to deal with first. The druid leaned forward, trying to read Asterix's expression, wondering just how aware the little Gaul was. After such an ordeal, he would have expected Asterix to be unconscious; though Getafix was extremely glad that he was not.

"Asterix? Can you hear me?"

The exhausted face registered his voice, and the little Gaul turned his head to look at him, releasing a tight, shuddering sigh. "...Th-that...h-hurt..."

Both the druid and the villager's eyes filled with pity at that soft, whispered statement. It had most assuredly been a lot worse than simply a 'hurt'. The way Asterix had been gasping and cringing; writhing about, it had been closer to 'agonizing' or 'torturous'. But, of course, Asterix would never admit to that. He wouldn't want to scare them any more than he already had. That was just how Asterix was; even now, he was thinking of them more than thinking of himself. How their friend could manage to do so in his present state was a mystery, and tugged at their hearts uncomfortably. Mostly because they knew, should they ever be in such a situation; ever be in that much pain, they'd probably never be able to do so themselves.

"Yes, Asterix...I know," Getafix soothed gently, trying not to sound as worried as he really was. "But now you're safe. I put up the Neutralizing Spell. Mastix won't be able to reach you again for some time...And by then we'll have a plan." He really would have liked to have been able to promise them all that Mastix would never harm any of them again. But Getafix knew his spell wouldn't last. Mastix would figure it out eventually. And then, what would they do? And why did Mastix keep targeting Asterix? They'd discuss that shortly, but right now they needed to get Asterix back inside.

Asterix seemed distressed by the news. "B-but...Getafix...you...you s-said that...the Neutral...lizing Spell...had something wrong...with it..."

"Don't speak," the druid said quickly, not only because now wasn't the time to discuss those few problems with his magic that he had mentioned earlier, but because he wasn't sure how badly Asterix had been hurt. "Let me get a better look at you before you start back to being a hero again." He received a weak smile from the little warrior, but Getafix found he had to try hard to return it.

The druid looked up at Obelix, taking in the Gaul's concerned, upset expression. "Do you think you can carry him back to my hut?" It was a silly , misleading question really. Everyone knew that Obelix was far more than physically capable of carrying anyone anywhere. Getafix's real question was more of a inquiry to the large Gaul's emotional state. Could Obelix mentally handle carrying his weak and injured best friend to the druid's hut? That was the real question. But Getafix needn't have worried. At the moment, Obelix's fear and anger were feeding him, and the full shock of the morning's events had not hit him quite yet. The large Gaul's emotional strength was empowering him, and he felt as though he'd be both willing and able to carry Asterix to the world's end if need be.

Standing carefully with Asterix held carefully in his large, powerful arms, Obelix turned and headed back toward the druid's hut; where Asterix had lain hurt only that morning. It wasn't fair that the little Gaul had been hit twice in one day. It wasn't fair that the moment he had finally recovered enough to stand on his own two feet, Mastix had struck him back down without a second thought. It wasn't fair. It was as simple as that. Obelix wished fervently that this would be the last misfortune to distress his friend; to distress any of them...but, somehow, he had the feeling this was just the beginning.

Mastix cursed loudly, glaring in the direction of the village with an expression of extreme hatred. In his mind's eye he could just imagine those insignificant villagers gathering around that pathetic, little, blond Gaul. He could practically feel their relief and hope, as his spell had been abruptly blocked. He had expected Getafix to try something; it was the old fool's way. But Mastix was unfamiliar with this particular spell. Otherwise he would not have been hindered by it in the slightest. This spell practically glowed with Getafix's magic style; every druid had one. Like every house has its own scent, or every culture has its own costums; every druid had their own, recognizable magic. Getafix's had always been exceptionally bright and cheery, much to Mastix's disgust. The spell that had broken his must have been something Getafix had concocted himself.

But Mastix was angry about something else as well. Even if Getafix had not interfered, Masrix knew he would not have accomplished his own spell. While he was certain his magic had caused the little Gaul a considerable amount of pain and agony, Asterix had been too far away. Too far away to truly reach the way he needed to. It was a short range spell; calling for the victim to be only as far from the caster as six yards, and even that was stretching it. Mastix had tried it anyway, more out of curiosity than anything else; as a test. But now, his fears had been confirmed. In order to attain his goal, he would need to be very close to Asterix. Very close. And that wasn't going to be easy, especially now. If only he had known of what the little Gaul was before, then he wouldn't have wasted his time in the village searching for that Magic Potion. He would have struck then and there, and nothing would have been able to stop him.

Mastix grumbled heatedly.

Now things would be harder; his goal would be more of a challenge to obtain. But Mastix was certain he could break Getafix's spell eventually; it was only a matter of time, and Mastix had plenty of that. He would just have to keep pressing; crushing against it. Getafix had never been as strong as him; and Mastix was sure he could win. Then he would have a power that no one could equal. He would be able to exact revenge on the fools in Carnutes; on the Venerable Druid. On Getafix, and all those little villagers; every man, woman, and child of them. It didn't matter that the Gauls had never even heard of him before that day. They were friends of his enemy; and that was enough. He'd make them all see who was the greatest. He'd make them all pay, whether they deserved it or not. They would all suffer.

It was just a matter of time.

...

This chapters a little short, but I don't want to move too quickly through my story. Plus, college has been really keeping me busy, as it's supposed to I guess. Boy, am I tired though. But, I will not forsake Asterix and his friends, nor my readers! So, onward! Onward, I say!

Yeah, as you can see...I'm tired... :)