24. Woof

Marwon fought the waters that drowned him. Although the ground beneath his feet was slippery and he couldn't get a hold, he kept kicking and struggling for all he was worth. Yes, all his life he'd been told what a weakling he was, what a disappointment for his great father. Not just because he wasn't the warlock born of legends, but because he was so good a warrior, a mortifying shame to the whole Druid nation.

Unnecessary to say that the scheme that had brought Lord Antek to their hands had been conjured up by him.

And yet he was a Druid, son of a High Priestess and the great Arenboarth, Lord Druid of the Blessed Isle, and this unnatural, disgusting, sorry excuse for magic would not defeat him.

With even stronger resolve he fought against the suffocating, wet darkness around him and the pressure of the invisible arms that fought to keep him down, to keep him drowning. For once his muscles weren't the issue. But his magic was.

He couldn't see, couldn't hear anything but the deafening thunder of wild waters, he couldn't breathe and yet he struggled on and on, clinging to life by stubborn obstinacy alone.

Step by step he fought his way up, to the surface and centimetre by centimetre, he succeeded. Too slow, much too slow to save his life.

Until, all of a sudden, the pressure was gone and he shot upwards, his head broke through the surface and his lungs filled with air; a precious, clean, exhilarating gush of air. He heard his own voice, a triumphant roar of sheer joy and opened his eyes to – nothing.

Darkness.

Silence. No sound but his own ragged panting and the fast beat of his heart.

The first thing he noticed about reality, besides it being unnoticeable, was dryness. There was no water; there had been no water, and no monster that drowned him.

"Shit" Marwon thought passionately when memory kicked back in. "The Book of Demon's most basic, most simple trick and look who's the only one who got through? Not Emrys, who got himself caught by the Rashnijaan's followers, not Gaius, the former Master Pupil of the Healers' Temple who ran head first into the barrier like a child. No. It's me. Poor, stupid, almost magic-blind me. And know what? I'm absolutely clueless as to what I am to do next!"

Marwon rubbed his face with both hands. Apparently Princes, Camelot or Druid, had a lot in common, for all their people being so very different. Frustration was most definitely among those shared experiences. That would be what Arthur felt when all his considerable talents were once again useless. The Prince was brave, intelligent, strong, dedicated; a hell of a fighter and what good did it ever do? Zero, none, nihil. Because some misguided, good-for-nothing half-wit had once again dug up some idiotic spell which by right should never've been written down in the first place and that was that. Sit tight, Your Highness, the great Emrys will be around presently.

Only, on this occasion, Emrys would surely not show up any time soon. That much Marwon could tell from recent events, especially from the exemplary nonsense Arthur had told earlier. If it had been Arthur at all.

So it was Marwon to the rescue. Well, then. Although there was nothing well about anything.

As he had to do something, the young Druid climbed to his feet. Which wasn't easy as his legs were still asleep and reluctant to give up the desirable state. For an interlude, he dusted off his pants and shirt with his hands. He'd seen Arthur do that on occasions, when he'd seemed at a loss at what to do next, and it seemed to help.

Most of all, he'd to show resolve and confidence.

Resolved and confident, Marwon walked but one step and crashed to the ground, face-first. Oh. Yes. That was the spot where Gaius lay, still out as a light. Which was, by the way, a very apt circumscription for a motionless body in a moonless night for which even the birds and bees had made a vow of silence.

"Gaius" the Druid said in a strained whisper "Gaius? Can you hear me?"

No response.

"Gaius! Damn it, wake up. I'm all alone."

Nothing.

Marwon sighed heavily. Not that again. Not so very soon. Gosh, he hated using his inborn magic. It was small, it was weak and as if that wasn't enough to disgrace a Druid from a very noble and distinguished family, it was also…. prankish. And a bit cheeky. It worked the most embarrassing miracles at times, if it worked at all.

However, he could neither leave the old healer to his fate – fate had a tendency to be cruel where the Rashnijaan was involved – nor could he fight the Book of Demons on his own. Not if the Pendragons' lives were at stake. No good had ever come to the Druids from suffering in Camelot.

Marwon knelt by Gaius' side and closed his eyes. He concentrated. Concentrated really, really hard. Behind his lids there was a golden flash and he opened his eyes for an expectant look at the old man before him.

Alas, his magic had indeed reached an all time low. In front of Marwon sat a sad looking toad, sleepily opening and closing his eyes with a subtle yet somewhat disheartening 'quaock'.

Maybe….. Gaius wouldn't remember this episode later on.

The Druid gave it another try, quite hastily.

The toad vanished – thank heaven for that – but it was quickly replaced by a little dog with three legs. A very ugly dog with a distinctively evil, vengeful shimmer in his eyes.

Oh-oh.

Another spell was muttered in an instant and, to his profound relief, Marwon found himself face-to-face with a very alert, very himself-like Court Physician.

"Gaius, oh, Gaius, it's so good to see you in your own person" Marwon exclaimed warmly.

The old healer glared at his saviour, threateningly.

"What is it?" Marwon asked "c'me on, you can't be that angry, besides, we mustn't lose a minute, we must save the others!"

The old man glared even more dangerously.

"Gaius?" the Druid said cautiously.

"Woof" the healer answered, with a face long as a fiddle. "Woof. Woof-woof-woof. WOOF!"

"Does that mean you've got a headache?"

The question wasn't of immediate consequence. As soon as Gaius' aggravated fist hit Marwon's cheek, they both had a headache.

A/N: Many, many thanks to anyone who answered my Author's S.O.S. Your feedback was much – and I mean MUCH! – appreciated.

But no, I will not (yet) tell you what I finally decided about how – and when – this story will end. You'll find out soon enough.

I know, this one is an usually short chapter, coming from me, but I loved the last line so very much, I thought it would make a good break.

As always, reviews are also appreciated. Please, take the time. As a belated Christmas present perhaps?