The Dragon of Avalon (28 page)

Groaning in pain, the little lizard reeled and staggered sideways, almost falling off the wizard's hand. He tried desperately to speak, to warn the others, but could only make a hoarse, choking cry.

"Hhhwhat is it, little hhhwanderer?" asked Aylah, suddenly concerned. She spun so fast in the glade that the surrounding trees swayed and clacked their branches as if caught in a sudden storm.

"Tell us," demanded Merlin. His bushy black eyebrows arched in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Over . . . there," Basil croaked at last. He drew a ragged breath, as the evil spell began to wear off. Still weakened, it took all his strength to jab his wing toward the spot. "The leech! Rhita Gawr."

"Rhita Gawr!" exclaimed Merlin, as the wind sister wailed overhead.

"He's . . . here," Basil said hoarsely. "Saw him before. On Dagda. Tried to warn you . . . too late! He's . . . here, Dagda said, to conquer . . . Avalon. Then to use our world . . . as a stepping-stone. To conquer other worlds—like Earth."

Merlin winced at his words. Then, as quickly as a hare, he bounded over to the place where Basil had pointed.

"There," said the lizard hoarsely, "In the needles! By that claw."

The wizard pounced on the spot. Setting Basil down on a branch of the toppled cedar, he started sifting through the needles with his hands. Furiously, he searched for this foe from the Otherworld. He worked with both speed and care, inspecting every twig, cone, and scrap of bark before tossing them aside. Meanwhile, Aylah swept across the ground, turning up terns, broken roots, and clumps of velvety moss. The forest floor seemed to bubble with motion.

But they found no sign at all of the leech. The wizard's hands dropped to his sides, and the air in the glade fell still.

"Gone," the wizard whispered.

Grimly, Merlin raised his head and turned to Basil. For a long moment, he studied the small figure on the branch. At the same time, Basil raised his leafy wings as if to ask, "What now?"

"This bodes ill for Avalon," Merlin said at last, tugging on his beard. "Yet now, at least, we are warned. That gives us a chance—just a chance—to prepare for whatever is to come." He sighed. "And for that I am grateful."

"Hhhwe are all grateful," whispered Aylah.

The wizard rose to his feet, strode over to a nearby patch of ferns, and picked up his staff. Its runes glowed subtly green, much like Basil's eyes. Grasping the gnarled top of the staff, Merlin announced, "From this day forward, we must be on guard. All of us."

He raised the staff high. In a ringing voice, he commanded: "Spread the word far and wide, to every creature of every realm! Avalon faces a grave new threat.
Rhita Gawr has entered our world.
"

All around the companions, trees swayed and rustled, their branches creaking ominously. At the same time, a great horned owl, seated on the highest branch of a spruce, hooted in its husky voice and took flight. Smaller birds, too, took up the cry, fluttering from tree to tree and wheeling overhead. Squirrels chattered in the boughs, a grass snake hissed as it slithered through the ferns, and a lone possum piped a warning cry while padding across the needles. Even a pair of orange-backed beetles, perched on a twig beside Basil, opened their wings and leaped into the air.

Seeing all this, Merlin lowered his staff and looked directly at Basil. Speaking with quiet intensity, he declared, "And from this day forward, Avalon also has a new defender. A courageous warrior who, despite his size, possesses remarkable gifts."

He stepped closer to the small winged creature who had saved his life. "I still don't know your name. Or how you have lived your life so far. But with all my heart, I call you . . . my friend."

The wind took up his words, carrying them through branches and treetops, bearing them high into the clouds. And so, throughout the seven realms of Avalon, the twin messages spread: An ancient enemy from the Otherworld had arrived—even as a new defender had appeared.

33:
A
L
IFE
W
ORTH
S
AVING

I don't mind being corrected. Not at all. Except, of course, when it happens in public or in private.

Basil," the little fellow said in his small, crackling voice. Seated on the branch of the fallen cedar, he ruffled his leathery wings and hopped toward Merlin. "My name is Basil."

"Hmmm," said the wizard, stroking the curls of his beard. "I'm not so sure about that."

Puzzled, Basil cocked his head to one side. "What do you mean? I know my own name, don't I?"

Merlin knelt down on the needle-covered forest floor, so that his face was directly opposite Basil's. "That can wait. First, tell me this. What can I possibly do to thank you? Today, to save my life, you dived into the very mouth of a kreelix! Surely there is something I can do for you."

Immediately, Basil felt tempted to ask for an increase in size—a longer tail, maybe, or a bigger back. After all, adding even just a little length would be a great improvement, making him equal in size to something truly enormous—say, a sparrow or a chickadee. But he merely shook his head. "No thanks. It's enough to see you safe again."

"Tell me the truth," pressed Merlin, pushing some stray locks of hair off his brow. "Surely there is
something
you desire in your heart of hearts."

Basil's scaly tail quivered. "Only," he admitted, trying his best to sound lighthearted, "to be bigger than a broken twig. Are you handing out longer tails? That would be nice."

Merlin merely sighed. "That sort of magic, I'm afraid, is beyond my reach. It would mean changing you into a different kind of creature than you are."

He paused, a slightly guilty look on his face. In a whisper, he added, "Not that it hasn't occurred to me on occasion. How delightful it would be to turn a mosquito into an eagle! Or, for that matter, the reverse. Or what about turning a young boy into a fish or a goose? Now, that would be true magic." He tugged at his beard. "As I said, though, such skill is beyond me. Someday in the future, as an elder wizard, I may know how to change creatures' kinds. But not today."

Basil shrugged as if he really didn't care. "Right. Anyway, that sort of thing only happens in those tales the faeries tell their young."

"Not here and now," agreed Merlin.

The little fellow nodded. He stretched his wings, appreciating their breadth, their lightness. It felt good to spread them again, to know they could carry him skyward, even without Aylah's help. Sure, he would like to have a bigger chest or a longer tail. But then these wings probably couldn't lift his weight. Truth be told, he could be a lot worse off than he was now.

And yet . . . Part of him had hoped, for just a second, that Merlin might be able to change him into something a bit bigger. Something a bit more, well,
frightening
. To dactylbirds, at least.

The wizard suddenly scrunched his nose, pondering. "So tell me, one-who-calls-himself-Basil. What kind of creature
are
you? In all my travels, I don't believe I've ever seen anybody quite like you."

"My good hhhwizard," breathed Aylah as she brushed past, swishing Merlin's long hair, "that is because there
is
nobody else like him."

"She's right," Basil agreed, sounding less than joyful. His round ears drooped. "I'm one of a kind."

"But what kind is that?" the wizard wondered aloud.

"I don't know." Basil blew a long, slow breath. "I really don't."

"And yet," said Merlin softly, "you must have wondered."

"Oh, from time to time, I suppose."

"Only hhhwhen he is conscious," teased Aylah, blowing across Basil's brow. "And then only four or five times a day."

The lizard shifted uncomfortably on the cedar branch. "How do you know so much, Aylah?"

"Ohhh, I just listen to hhhwhatever is on the hhhwind."

Merlin, still kneeling, edged closer. Gently, he stroked the small green scales of Basil's tail. "Can't you tell me anything more? Any clues about your kind?"

"Only that Dagda said I'm not a dragon.
You are not a mere dragon
were his exact words."

At this, Merlin's tufted brows lifted. "Anything else?"

"Well, I'm not a kreelix." He glanced down at the lifeless hulk that lay sprawled under the old cedar. Dark blood from its mouth continued to seep into the ground, soaking the needles and cones nearby. "At least . . . I hope not."

"You are definitely not a kreelix, my friend. Anything else? Where were you born?"

Basil shifted his weight on the branch, thinking. "I hatched from an egg. A green one. Here in Woodroot,"

"I knohhhw," whispered the wind sister. "I hhhwas there."

"Yes!" said Basil, bobbing his head brightly. "I remember, Aylah. You were right there."

The wind swept through the glade, tossing boughs of spruce and cedar, lifting shards of bark off the ground. "And I hhhwas also there, before you hatched, hhhwhen you came floating dobhhwn the River Unceasing in Lost Fincayra, hhhwhen you hhhwere carried ahhhway by a falcon, and hhhwhen you fell on the Forgotten Island."

"The island!" exclaimed Merlin. "You were
there
?"

Basil tilted his head, unsure.

"He hhhwas," assured Aylah, "though still in the egg. Just as he hhhwas there hhhwhen a certain young hhhwizard planted a magical seed—a seed that grehhhw into a hhhwon drous nehhhw hhhworld."

The wizard pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And how did you know, good wind sister, to look after this particular egg?"

"You have guessed already," she whispered, stirring the branches around them. "Dagda came to me in a vision, asking me to hhhwatch over this creature. He never said hhhwhy, nor hhhwhat kind of creature he might really be, only that this hhhwould be a life hhhworth saving."

"A life worth saving," repeated Merlin. With a decisive nod, he stood up. "Now I've heard more than enough to confirm my suspicions. For a long time, my friend, I have puzzled over your abilities, and over that green glow in your eyes. At last, I know what kind of creature you are!"

Basil's heart leaped. "You do?" He waved his little wings anxiously. "Will you tell me?"

"Better than that," he announced. "I will
show
you."

Planting his staff firmly in the carpet of needles, Merlin met Basil's gaze. "While I cannot change you into someone you are not, I
can
change you into someone you are truly meant to be."

His voice deepened. "With your consent, I can accelerate your growth, giving you whatever form you might ultimately have. Let me warn you, my friend, that nothing may change. I could be wrong; you might already have the form of your destiny."

The wizard's eyes gleamed. "Then again, you could have a little surprise."

Basil drew in a full breath, trying his best to stay calm. Could he really be something more than he seemed? Placing his small feet firmly on the branch, he declared, "You have my consent."

"Good. In that case, I shall give you a body as great as your heart."

34:
G
REAT
H
EART

Like starlight, a person's soul can be hidden by a seemingly endless storm—but never really extinguished. All it takes is one good wind to clear away the clouds, and the light will be revealed.

Standing in the center of the forest glade, Merlin placed both his hands on the gnarled top of his staff. He waited, watching a lone cedar needle drift slowly down to the ground, twirling in the tree-shafted light as it fell. Then, gazing skyward, he started to chant:

Powers unborn,
Powers to be,
Grant us the birth of a destiny.
Sprout now the seed,
Welcome the child.
Bring forth enigma, mystery wild—
Under the secret,
Over the sight,
Honor the soul of emerging light.
Beginnings shall end,
New ends begin:
Free now the future that dwells within.

Three times he spoke the chant—first in the language of Avalon, then that of Fincayra, and finally that of the Otherworld of the Spirits. With every word, the sky overhead grew darker. Dense, heavy clouds gathered. The air buzzed with electricity, lifting strands of the wizard's flowing hair. But no lightning, which could have released the tension, blazed overhead. The electric tension continued to swell.

The surrounding cedars, spruces, firs, and pines began to quiver. Their boughs trembled, knocking more needles loose. Yet this was not movement caused by wind. No breeze at all stirred the glade. Wherever Aylah might have been, she remained utterly still.

All the while, the electricity grew. Tiny sparks ignited in the air, crackled briefly for an instant, then vanished. Tree bark sizzled and popped, as drops of resin exploded. The soil under Merlin's feet started to vibrate—gently at first, then steadily gaining force, until the very ground was humming.

Seated on the branch of the toppled cedar, Basil felt the swelling energy. He felt it in the air, the quaking branches, and in the vibrating ground. Sparking with electricity, the loose scale on his neck slowly lifted toward the darkening sky.

Most profoundly, though, Basil felt the growing energy inside himself. Not only in his bones, which felt steadily warmer, or in his eyes, whose vision seemed increasingly blurred. Most of all, he felt it in the deep, untouchable depths of his soul.

Something is happening to me. But what?

All at once, a great bolt of lightning exploded, searing the sky. A powerful blast of thunder erupted at the same time, strong enough to make Merlin stumble and nearly fall oyer. The lightning flashed downward, but it didn't strike the tallest tree around. In fact, it didn't strike any tree.

The lightning struck Basil.

With a brilliant flash of light, the potent bolt hit the little fellow on the back, right between his ragged wings. The green scales on his shoulders sizzled and briefly burst into flame. Basil's eyes glowed brighter than ever before.

Simultaneously, the sky above opened, illuminating the forest. Heavy clouds melted into mist and then disappeared. The trees ceased quaking, as did the ground. Air moved freely once more, freshening the grove.