She popped it into her mouth. “Yum,” she said, and smiled.
Perfect, Nate thought. As Aunt Phil and the Dolon talked, Nate cheerfully fed every last bit of liver to his gremlin.
“Our story begins five days ago,” the Dolon said. “When the basilisk did not come for his nightly feeding. This happens sometimes, so we were not duly concerned. Except he did not come for a second night, either. That has never happened.”
“Had he been feeding regularly up until that point?” Aunt Phil asked.
The Dolon nodded. “The next day, we mounted a party to enter his sacred caves. We found them empty.”
“This is a puzzle, to be sure. However, I won’t be able to do anything until I see his lair.” She glanced up at the dark sky. “We will have to wait to enter his caves until first thing in the morning,” Aunt Phil said.
Nate groaned to himself. Why did it have to be caves? Caves meant bats.
He hated bats.
Chapter Ten
IN THE MORNING, after another bowl of porridge—which Nate found out was actually boiled millet—Aunt Phil, the Dolon, and Nate set off for the basilisk’s cave. Greasle was curled up asleep inside Nate’s rucksack. Probably still trying to digest all that liver she’d eaten.
“That is where we must go,” the Dolon said. He pointed—up, up, up—to a small hollow in the cliff side.
Nate had to tilt his head all the way back just to see it. “How do we get up there?”
“We climb,” the Dolon said.
Nate looked at the sheer cliff face, then back at the Dolon. Maybe this was a joke, kind of like his story about Aunt Phil. “You’re teasing, aren’t you—hey! Wait for me!” While he had stood gawking, Aunt Phil and the Dolon had started to climb. Nate scrambled to catch up.
The climb was the hardest thing Nate had ever done. Parts of the cliff didn’t have any footholds or handholds, or at least none that he could see. Not until Aunt Phil pointed them out. Even worse, the Dolon and his aunt could climb like mountain goats. Nate felt gawky and clumsy next to them.
Nate was hot and sweaty, his fingers raw. He had to force himself to keep from looking down. His mind kept wondering what it would feel like to go splat.
The final leg of the climb was the worst.
There was a giant chasm, much too wide to jump across. A rickety, handmade ladder had been laid over the gap, like a bridge. The Dolon scrambled across, then Aunt Phil. Nate grabbed the ladder, biting back a shout as it wobbled and nearly sent him tumbling into the yawning abyss below.
“Come on, Nate! You can do it,” Aunt Phil called to him. “Just don’t look down.”
“Then how am I supposed to know where to put my feet?” he called back.
“By feel.”
By feel? The only thing he could feel was the fear racing through him like a runaway train. With no other choice, he took a deep breath, looked away from his feet, and clambered across the ladder as quickly as he could, hoping he’d make it across before the whole thing fell apart.
Sweat was pouring down his face when he finally reached the other side. It was all he could do to keep from kissing the ground beneath his knees.
As they drew closer to the cliff face, Nate’s heart stuttered in his chest. It was decorated with animal skins and skulls. In the middle of all that sat a thick, crooked door made of rough wood. A snake was carved into its surface. Nate tried to swallow, but his throat was as dry as one of the bones hanging in front of him. He desperately wanted to know why they were there, but was afraid to ask.
Aunt Phil bent to examine the door. “It didn’t get out this way, did it?”
“We do not know.”
Aunt Phil pulled her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose. The Dolon covered his face, then unlocked the heavy iron lock that barred the wooden door. It creaked open to reveal a gaping black hole.
“Maybe I should wait out here for you?” Nate suggested hopefully.
“No, Nate.” Aunt Phil gave him a gentle shove forward. He quickly yanked his scarf into place as he stumbled into the cave. The air was stale and musty with an underlying sickly sweet smell.
The Dolon lit a torch in the wall, then handed it to Aunt Phil. She waved it away. “No, I’ve got a flashlight here,” she said, pulling one from her heavy pack. When she turned it on, the light flared along the cave walls. Nate gasped and took a step closer to her.
Hundreds more skulls had been set into the walls. Empty eye sockets gaped back at him. Some had large facial bones—like a baboon. Others sported the long sharp beak of some sort of bird with a pair of spindly feet dangling below. Nate’s own feet were itching to turn tail and run all the way back to the village. He wondered why the bones were there. A warning, maybe?
Almost as if sensing his question, Aunt Phil spoke softly into his ear. “It is the Dhughani’s way of honoring those animals sacrificed to the basilisk,” she explained.
Some honor, Nate thought, but kept to himself.
“You’ve got a flashlight in your pack, too, Nate,” Aunt Phil said. “Why don’t you get it out?”
Nate opened the outside pocket of his rucksack and retrieved his. He turned it on, feeling a little better with something solid and light-generating in his hand.
A half dozen smaller caverns opened up off the main cave. “Um, what exactly are we looking for?” he asked, trying to pretend his heart wasn’t about to gallop out of his chest.
“Anything that might tell us how the basilisk escaped,” Aunt Phil said. “A hole in the cave wall, an opening from above, signs of a landslide or cave-in. Even a small pool that might lead to an underground stream that it could have followed out. We should split up for greatest efficiency.”
“Since I’m just supposed to watch and learn, shouldn’t I stay with you?” Nate asked.
“The basilisk isn’t here, Nate.” Aunt Phil’s voice was gentle. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“What if it returns?” Nate asked.
“Then we would be lying sick on the ground even now, gasping for fresh air.”
“Oh.” He could tell she had meant that to be comforting.
The Dolon thrust two balls of rough red twine at them. “The caverns are deep and twisting and it is easy to lose your path. Take these so that you may find your way back. Unwind the string as you go. It will mark your return so you don’t get lost.”
Nate and Aunt Phil took their balls of twine from the Dolon. “Well,” Aunt Phil said, “see you all back here in a bit. Holler if you find anything.”
As Nate watched the others disappear from sight, he had to fight the urge to run after them. The empty skulls in the wall stared at him, making his skin crawl. He didn’t want to be alone in this place.
But wait! He wasn’t alone. He swung his pack off his shoulders, yanked it open, and peered inside. “Do you want out?” he asked Greasle, hoping very much that she did.
The gremlin’s head emerged cautiously. “I don’t know. Does I?” She looked at the eerie skulls, then squealed and ducked back inside. “Maybe I’ll just stay in here,” she called back to him.
Nate reached into the pack and snagged her. “Oh no you don’t. I could use an extra pair of eyes.” He ripped a small corner of his scarf off and helped her pull it up over her mouth and nose. Then he carefully set her on the ground. “Ready?” he asked.
She folded her arms and glared at him.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Chapter Eleven
ONCE THEY WERE AWAY FROM THE WALL OF SKULLS, Greasle didn’t seem to be bothered by the dark at all. She scampered easily from boulder to crevice. Nate clutched his flashlight tighter and wished he were more like the gremlin. She didn’t have a scared bone in her body. Well, except when it came to Aunt Phil—Greasle was plenty scared of her.
Nate swept the light beam against the cavern walls. The truth was, he had no idea what he was looking for. A method of escape, Aunt Phil had said. It seemed to Nate that he needed to know a
lot more about the basilisk to understand how it could have gotten loose.
He shone his flashlight behind him, relieved to see the trail of red string pointing the way back. Turning back around, he swept the light in an arc. It caught something on the floor of the cave. Something that glittered.
It looked like—jewels?
He squatted down and shone the light directly on them. They glittered blue, green, and red and looked like fish scales. Basilisk scales? The Book of Beasts had said they were valuable, but he hesitated. Everything about the basilisk was poisonous—its breath, its gaze. Its scales were probably poisonous, too. Even so, Nate’s fingers itched to pick them up. It seemed like something a beastologist ought to do—collect samples. He had a phoenix egg. Basilisk scales would round out his collection nicely.
He set the flashlight on the ground, then fished a handkerchief out of his pocket. Careful not to let his skin touch the brightly colored scales, he picked them up and wrapped them in the handkerchief.
Greasle appeared at his knee. “Whatcha got there?”
“Basilisk scales,” Nate said.
“Pretty.” Greasle reached out to touch one and Nate jerked them away from her.
“No!” He stood up, trying to keep the scales out of her reach.
Before he could explain about the poison, Greasle made a face at him. “I wants to find some jools of my own,” she said. And with that, the gremlin scampered down a cavern to the right.
“No, Greasle! Come back!” Nate swung the flashlight on her just in time to see her disappear down the tunnel. That dumb gremlin! He should just let her go. See how she liked being all alone in this creepy place. Except then he’d be all alone, too. And what if she found more scales and got poisoned? She was his responsibility.
Nate poked his head into the tunnel Greasle had taken. “Come back here, Greasle!” He flashed his light into the darkness. There was no sign of her.
Grumbling to himself, he scrunched down and took a few more steps. “Greasle?” he whispered. Still no answer.
He checked his ball of red twine and saw there was plenty of string left. He got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl after her.
The cavern was small and narrow and went on forever. No matter how many times Nate called after Greasle, she never answered. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen if the basilisk came back. Nate’s heart started to beat too fast and it felt as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen. He wanted to rip the scarf from his face, but of course he couldn’t. Not with the basilisk’s venom hanging in the air.
“Greasle?” he called again.
When he rounded the next bend in the cavern, he blinked. It was lighter, and he could feel the faint stirring of a fresh breeze on his face. At the next turn, he had to shut his eyes against the bright light spilling into the cave. Once his eyes had adjusted, he saw that he was able to stand up. He rose to his feet and looked around. It appeared to be the basilisk’s den. The sickly sweet stench of the basilisk’s poisonous fumes was stronger, and piles of old bones were everywhere. Its scales, glittering like precious gems, littered the floor. Nate was glad he’d found them before—
“Greasle! Where are you?” he called.
“Here.” She poked her head out from behind a skull the size of his rucksack.
She was dangerously close to the scales. “Get away from there!”
Ignoring him, the gremlin reached for a large, shiny green scale.
“Don’t touch it!” he called out. “It might be poisonous!”
Greasle jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned. “Nasty scales,” she said.
“Yes, but valuable, according to The Book of Beasts.” Nate hurried over and scooped her onto his shoulder. He was hot and sweaty from crawling through the tunnel, and the cool air on his back felt good. He turned and saw a gaping hole in the wall. It looked new. Large chunks of stone had been hewn from the side of the cliff, creating a passage to the outside. There were harsh white scrapes and cut marks on the red sandstone. He was pretty sure this was what Aunt Phil had meant by a method of escape. His heart started to race. Why did he have to be the one to find it?
Slowly he approached the opening. What if the basilisk was waiting outside? He cautiously poked his head out, ready to leap back into the safety of the cave if necessary.
Nothing moved. He lifted his foot to step outside, but it caught on something hard and he tripped. A loud clatter and clang echoed back into the cave. Nate looked down at his feet.
A pick and an ax lay on the ground in front of him. He looked back at the opening, realization dawning.
The basilisk hadn’t escaped. Someone had dug it out.
Chapter Twelve
“WE’VE GOT TO FIND AUNT PHIL.” Nate snagged Greasle and put her into the rucksack. He turned around and raced back through the narrow tunnel, his heart thudding against his ribs. It seemed to take forever. When he finally reached the main cavern, there was no sign of Aunt Phil or the Dolon. They were both still out searching the rest of the caverns.
Nate stepped into the tunnel that Aunt Phil had taken. He cupped one hand around his mouth and called, “Aunt Phil!”
Aunt Phil, Aunt Phil, Aunt Phil echoed throughout the caves, reaching up into the soaring ceiling above. Nate listened, but there was no response. He tried again. “Aunt Phil!” Aunt Phil, Aunt Phil, Aunt Phil.
This time he heard a rushing sound. He glanced up and saw a thousand dark shapes detach themselves from the ceiling of the cave. In his excitement, Nate had forgotten all about—
“Bats!” he whispered. He threw himself to the ground and clapped his arms over his head as a thousand winged creatures swooped down on him.
When Aunt Phil arrived fifteen minutes later, that’s how she found him—still plastered to the floor, afraid to move. “Nate?” she called as she crouched at his side.
He lifted his head and peered up at the ceiling. “Are they gone?”
“Are who gone?”
“The bats,” he whispered.
Aunt Phil’s face relaxed. “Yes, they’ve all gone.” Then she held out a hand and helped him to his feet. “Is that why you were calling me?”
“No! I found something. I think it’s the way the basilisk escaped.”
Just then the Dolon appeared in the far tunnel. “I heard shouting,” he said.
“Nate thinks he’s found the escape route,” Aunt Phil explained. Nate was grateful she kept the bat incident to herself. “Lead the way,” she told him.
Luckily, Nate had thought to leave his string in place to guide them back to the hole. If not, he could never have found it again. Aunt Phil and the Dolon had to crouch down very low to get through the small crawlspace. He heard their grunts and muttering behind him. “It’s not much farther,” he told them.
Finally the narrow passage opened up and revealed the basilisk’s lair. Aunt Phil and the Dolon blinked, and then Aunt Phil hurried over to the gaping hole in the cave wall. She bent to inspect it.
“There’s a pick and an ax outside,” Nate said.
Aunt Phil and the Dolon exchanged worried glances, then went out to see. “Someone set it free on purpose,” Aunt Phil said, examining the tools.
Nate cleared his throat. “Greasle was the one who discovered it.” He wanted to remind Aunt Phil that the gremlin could be useful.
Aunt Phil merely raised an eyebrow before addressing the Dolon. “Do you have any enemies who would wish your people harm?”
The Dolon shrugged. “We have had many enemies over the centuries,” he said. “But I do not know of any who would loose this upon the world.”
As Aunt Phil and the Dolon continued to discuss the possibilities, Nate wandered away toward the edge of the outcropping. It was a sheer drop-off that made him dizzy when he looked down. He pulled his gaze back up, then frowned.
Before him, the Sahel stretched out for miles, as far as the eye could see. Cutting through the landscape was a wide brown swath. It looked almost like a . . . a path. A p
ath of destruction, Nate realized. “Aunt Phil!” he called again.
“What is it?” she asked as she hurried over.
Nate pointed to the wide brown trail. “The basilisk,” Aunt Phil said.
“The basilisk,” the Dolon agreed.
“And we know where it’s heading,” Aunt Phil said grimly.
“We do?” Nate asked.
“Yes, look.” She pointed to the winding path. “It’s getting closer and closer to the river.”
The Dolon looked ill. “And if it gets to the river . . .” His voice grew silent, as if he could not bring himself to say the words.
“It will poison the entire water supply all along the Niger,” Aunt Phil said quietly. “All the animals who depend on it, the fish who swim in it, and the people who drink from it will be poisoned.”
Chapter Thirteen
“DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SKETCH THAT FOR US?” Aunt Phil asked Nate. “A map of the basilisk’s progress and where it might be heading?”
“Me?” Nate asked.
“Yes, you.”
“I think so.” Nate set down his rucksack and took out his sketchpad. He sat himself on a flat rock and began to draw, his pencil trembling slightly in his hand. It felt like the most important drawing he’d ever done.
As if sensing that importance, Greasle stayed quiet while he drew.
When he was done, Aunt Phil looked it over. She studied the map, then compared it to the landscape in front of them. “Excellent work, Nate.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ve drawn it exactly.”
He busied himself putting his sketchbook away so she wouldn’t see how pleased he was.
“Well,” Aunt Phil said, “I think we’ve learned all we can here. Let’s get back to the village and start asking some questions.”
When they got back to the village, the Dolon called all the Dhughani together. Nate took a seat on a rock and waited. When everyone was assembled, Aunt Phil spoke to the Dolon in a low voice. “I’m going to explain to them that someone freed the basilisk on purpose. Ask if there have been any strangers sighted near the village in the past few days.” The Dolon nodded his agreement.
The Basilisk's Lair Page 4
