The Dragon of Avalon (24 page)

Without making even the slightest movement—which would, in this valley, cause more than enough noise to warn their prey—the bloodboars turned their attention to Basil. Tiny as he was, they could smell the meat upon his bones. Having found nothing to devour in days, the merest scent of this little morsel was enough to make them salivate. Already, frothy spittle formed at the corners of their mouths.

Unaware of any danger, Basil pressed his snout against the vine leaves. Sliding his tongue along the leaves, he was tickled by their delicate hairs. Then a tiny clump of dirt, lodged in the notch between two leaves, caught his attention. Drawing the clump back into his mouth, he swallowed.

We are the dark
, said a host of hushed voices inside his mind.
Many secrets do we hold, many treasures do we keep. Subtly, we share our beauty—but only with those whose sight does not blind.

Basil blinked, suddenly sure that he sensed real creatures somewhere nearby. Somewhere in the darkness. But no, he knew better. These were the voices of this realm's innermost magic—nothing more.

So, too
, the hushed voices continued,
we hold fear and longing, rage and grief, as well as yearnings so deep they cannot be named. Yet in those places of shadow, sightless seers may also find truth and love and yes—a dark kind of light.

Even as the voices said, once again,
We are the dark
, the bloodboars tensed their powerful leg muscles, preparing to spring. In another second, they would pounce—and tear their unlucky prey apart.

At the same time, on the other side of Basil,
another
creature stirred in the darkness. Its eyes were fixed on him—and unlike the wide, hungry eyes of the boars, these eyes shone with a hint of green. They looked, in fact, very much like Basil's eyes. For the creature itself resembled him—so much that it could have been his twin.

His identical twin.

Unnoticed by anyone, this creature was slowly, silently lifting himself out of a deep hole in the vine-covered ground. First came his small, triangular snout. Then his eyes, below a pair of rounded, batlike ears. Next came his scaly green neck, belly, and back, upon which rested two crumpled wings. Although neither wing was broken, they mirrored Basil's, right down to the veins that lined the leathery skin. Behind, dangling down the hole, hung a thin tail that ended in a bony knob.

Now, Basil couldn't see at all in this pervasive blackness. But if he
could
have seen, and looked to his left, he'd have been instantly terrified—for he would have discovered three deadly boars about to rip him to pieces. And yet . . . if he could have looked to his right, he'd have been instantly enthralled. For he would have found the first creature in all of Avalon who truly resembled himself. The first creature who might be able to help him, at last, solve the mystery of his own identity.

The boars' leg muscles tensed. Their powerful bodies quivered, ready to attack and kill. Meanwhile, Basil—the lizard they intended to devour—sat perfectly still, blithely unaware. And not so far away . . . the identical lizard quietly emerged from hiding.

As the twin lizard came out of his hole, one of his ears brushed against a leaf of ravenvine. On that leaf sat a louse, an insect so small that it would have been very difficult to see even with any light. As the lizard's ear touched the leaf, the louse instantly sensed a good chance for a meal, and latched on. Feeling the tender skin, it opened its minuscule jaws—and took a bite.

The twin lizard, feeling the nip, instinctively flicked his ear. When its edge hit the scales on the back of his head, it made a soft little tap—the sort of sound that almost nobody would have heard. Unless, of course, it happened in the Vale of Echoes.

That tiny tap reverberated, quickly swelling in volume. It grew into a drumroll, then loud pounding, then unrelenting thunder. Soon the echoing sound filled the air, moving from one end of the Vale to the other and back again.

That very instant, something else moved through the air. Returning from her search, having found no sign of Merlin, Aylah drew near. Sensing trouble, she plunged downward. Wind suddenly gusted all around Basil and swept him up into the darkened sky.

At the same time, the three bloodboars pounced. Although one of their tusks grazed Basil's tail, they hadn't moved fast enough to catch him. As the wind sister carried him out of reach, their heavy bodies slammed onto the vine-covered ground. That impact, together with their angry snarls, raised the echoes to a deafening roar.

Meanwhile, Basil rose higher. Though he couldn't see what was happening below, he knew that Aylah's quick reaction had saved him from danger. And maybe death. What he didn't know—and would never have guessed—was that he had also missed, by a fraction of a second, meeting an identical twin.

Below, in the darkness, the boars snapped and butted heads ferociously. Having lost their meal, they were hungrier, and also angrier, than ever. Fur flew as they pounced on one another, rolling on the vines. Suddenly, one of them caught the scent of another tasty lizard on the ground nearby—and instantly stopped fighting. The other boars, also smelling new prey, did the same. All three instantly crouched in the attack position.

The twin lizard, sensing danger, froze. Should he try to dive back down into his hole, or hope to avoid being detected by three such powerful adversaries? He chose, instead, to do something else entirely.

Even as the boars leaped, snarling viciously, the tiny lizard suddenly transformed into his true shape. A changeling! The form he had temporarily assumed just a moment before—a mirror image of his intended victim, Basil—disappeared. In its place stood a tall, murderous beast with powerful limbs, deadly claws, and hundreds of terrible teeth. Enraged, the changeling plunged into battle. Before the boars even hit the ground, one of their necks was torn by his terrible jaws.

Flesh, fur, and blood splattered across the ground. Screeches and snarls erupted, gathering into an onslaught of echoes that ripped through the air. No more than ten seconds later, the battle ended. With a grunt of satisfaction, the changeling tore into the meaty bodies of his three latest victims.

Soon, nothing remained of the bloodboars but a tangle of sinew and bones. The changeling, assuming for now the shape of a black snake, slid his bloated body underneath the vines. There he would wait, digesting, until his next unwary meal appeared.

While Aylah and Basil flew swiftly eastward, with no notion of what they had missed, the echoes of battle faded away. In time, the last sounds vanished. An eerie quiet fell upon the realm of eternal night.

27:
A
D
EEPER
D
ARKNESS

What shows above isn't nearly as interesting as what lies beneath.

As they sailed over the outer reaches of Shadowroot, shrouded by darkness, Basil searched the sky for something he longed for, something he ached to see. At last, through a gap in the dark clouds, he found it.

"Light," he said gladly. "Light again."

He watched as the first glowing rays shot through the gap, illuminating the wispy edges of the clouds and then radiating through the mist. Steadily, as they flew eastward, the clouds around them brightened. Light permeated the very air, making the sky glow like a celestial candle.

Less than a day had passed since their escape from the belly of the windtaker. Yet so much had happened, it seemed more like a week. He had seen the realms of fire and darkness—every bit as strange, beautiful, and dangerous as the realms of stone, mud, and air. And he had tasted their mysterious magic, magic he could still feel inside him.
I don't feel any wiser
, he thought,
but I do feel a little . . . larger.

Starlight streamed over the clouds as he said to Aylah, "Whatever happens . . . I'm glad we've taken this journey! You know, the world is bigger than I ever thought."

"And so, little hhhwanderer, are you."

"Maybe so," he replied, the hint of a grin on his face. Then the grin abruptly vanished. "But Rhita Gawr could ruin everything. Everything! We've seen so much of the world but no sign of Merlin since our escape. We've got to find him!"

Aylah's breath blew colder on his face. "Hhhwe must get to the last realms: hhhWaterroot and hhhWoodroot. But hhhwe are a very long hhhway from those places, little hhhwanderer. To reach them hhhwe must fly all the hhhway around the tree, and that hhhwill take time—more time, I fear, than hhhwe have left."

His snout furrowed. "Is there any faster way?"

She banked to the left, swooping around a spiraling tower of mist. "Yes, there is. But I must hhhwarn you, it hhhwould take us back into darkness. Not the darkness of Shadohhhwroot, mind you . . . but a deeper kind."

"Impossible! What darkness do you mean?"

"The darkness at the edge of the Otherhhhworld."

"The world of the spirits?" Basil shifted uneasily on the wind sister's airy cushion. "But that's so far away! How could that way be quicker?"

"Instead of taking you all the hhhway around the Great Tree, I hhhwould carry you
under
the Tree—beneath the roots. That hhhwill bring us through the mists that divide the hhhworlds—mists that are very deep, and very dark."

Basil gulped. "I don't care how dark they are. If that way is faster, let's do it."

Abruptly, Aylah plunged downward. Slicing through the starlit clouds, so fast that whistling winds screamed all around, she seemed to be racing the beams of light. Basil, ears blown flat against his head, imagined he was a great bird of prey, diving out of the sky.

Clouds darkened, as light grew scarcer. To the right, he saw the rugged outline of a long black ridge, so completely shadowed that it made the dusky clouds seem bright by comparison. Could that be the outer edge of Shadowroot?

The light around them dimmed swiftly. As they continued diving downward, rare spots of light illuminated the crest of a misty wave over here, the shredding vapors of a cloud over there. Then, all at once, everything went black. Darkness swallowed them whole.

Are we back in Shadowroot
? he wondered anxiously.
Or is this really . . . the edge of the Otherworld?

Still grateful for the brief interlude of light they'd experienced earlier, he peered all around to see if he could find any remaining beams. But no, he saw only darkness, unbroken in every direction. In the uniform blackness, he couldn't even begin to judge their speed or direction. In fact, it was only by the constant rush of air on his face, and the shrill whistle of wind, that he could be sure they were moving at all.

Yet after a few moments of gazing into the darkness, he began to notice something odd.
It isn't all black out there
, he realized with amazement. He stared harder, making sure he was really seeing correctly.
Or at least, not all black in the same way.

Indeed, he was starting to see subtle differentiations. The darkness seemed, in places, not lighter—but
thinner
somehow. In some areas, thin and thick darkness formed layers, like the sand and mud along a streambed. In other areas, the darkened vista rippled with veins of even richer, deeper blackness.

"Hhhwelcome to the Otherhhhworld," said Aylah's voice directly in his ear, loud enough to be heard above the wailing wind. "Nohhhw hhhwe are under the roots of the Great Tree. Hhhwatch hhhwell, my little friend . . . and you shall see some things that no mortal but Merlin has ever hhhwitnessed."

"No one but Merlin? I don't deserve such special treatment." He chortled, swaying his slender tail. "But that won't stop me from enjoying it."

"Good," she replied. "Nohhhw hhhwatch."

As winds whistled around them, they swept deeper into this new, subtly varied darkness. Soon, Basil began to see not only layers, but shapes within the layers: some as boldly defined as a huge, castlelike cloud; others as fleeting as a flash of black lightning. He gasped, seeing a flock of shadowy, sylphlike forms fly out of one dark spot that could have been the entrance to a cave, turn in unison, then fly straight into another.

Beyond, he glimpsed another amazing shape—what looked like a gigantic upside-down tree. Mighty black roots anchored in the mists above, the tree's twisted branches stretched downward, far past what he could clearly see. The top of the tree lay hidden in the swirling mists below, yet for an instant he caught a hint of its shape—the merest shadow of a shadow.

Then, in the distance, he saw something that made him catch his breath. A landscape! An entire darkened landscape with billowing hills and wispy waterways, black mountain ridges and shaded hollows.

Even more remarkable, this landscape constantly shifted its shape. Turning endlessly into itself, the dark vista swelled and diminished and renewed. Hills spiraled upward to become mountain peaks, valleys receded into cavernous pits, and rolling contours flattened into limitless plains.

Suddenly, a strong current of wind blew across their path, jostling both Aylah and her passenger. The wind carried a group of ghostly shadows, dark figures astride even darker steeds, whose great hooves glinted like obsidian. The riders galloped right over them—and, Basil felt by the intense chill in his bones, right
through
them.

"Owww!" he cried in pain, as the jolt of turbulence twisted his broken wing.

Whoever they were, the shadow-riders passed in an instant, disappearing into a swelling black hole in the mist. But something they'd caused didn't disappear. The pain in Basil's wing continued to throb.

"Are you all right, little hhhwanderer?"

"No, not really," he grumbled. "This wing—ahhggh!—is worse . . . than ever."

"Merlin can heal you, and hhhwe hhhwill find him soon." In an airy whisper, she added, "I hope."

Trying to find a new position so that wind didn't blow against his injured wing, he sighed in anguish. "I . . . hope so, too. For more than my wing."

New visions, landscapes, and—occasionally—creatures appeared as they continued to fly through the dark mists. Basil didn't notice many of them, though. His wing kept throbbing, as if a heavy hammer were beating on the anvil of his shoulder.