The Basilisk's Lair

by R. L. LaFevers

  As Aunt Phil spoke to the Dhughani people in their tongue, Nate wondered if she expected him to learn all the languages that she knew.

  When she had finished, the small crowd erupted in excited voices, everyone talking at once. When they had quieted, the Dolon translated for Nate. “No strangers have been seen in our village. But Golu says that his wife’s cousin has taken on a job as a guide. Golu will go to that village and question the man.”

  “Excellent,” Aunt Phil said. “And we need to send messengers to all the villages in the basilisk’s path. Nate, may I have your map, please?”

  “My map?” he squeaked.

  “Yes, I want to show them the direction the basilisk is moving in.”

  Blushing, Nate pulled the sketchbook from his rucksack and handed it to Aunt Phil. He didn’t think it was good enough to show to other people.

  As she held the drawing up for the crowd to see, the villagers talked excitedly again. After a few minutes of discussion, three men set out to warn the nearby villages that were in harm’s way.

  “Well,” Aunt Phil said, “I think that’s all we can do for the time being. Nate, you and I have a number of preparations to make while we wait for the others to return.” They excused themselves and went to their small hut.

  “It will be dark in a couple of hours, so I don’t think we’ll be able to leave tonight. With any luck, Golu will return before we go to sleep.” She rifled through her pack, drew out a large pouch, and held it up. “Rue,” she announced, as if she were offering him gold. “Of course, nothing can protect against direct contact with the venom, but rue is the one plant that can neutralize the basilisk’s poisonous gaze. We’ll make a tea of it. I want you to drink as much as you possibly can.”

  If it would protect him from the basilisk, Nate would happily drink mud from the Niger River.

  Aunt Phil built a small fire and set a pot on to boil. Next, she pulled two round mirrors out of her pack and handed one to Nate. “These are our weapons of last resort. If something happens and we cannot stop the basilisk from poisoning the entire water supply, we will use the mirrors.”

  Nate stared at the mirror, the size of a dinner plate, in his hand. It looked harmless to him. “What will they do?”

  “They will reflect the basilisk’s venomous gaze back at it and kill it.” A long moment of silence followed as her words sank in. “However,” she continued, “I’d rather not kill it if we don’t have to. Which is why I’ve brought our secret weapons.”

  Nate perked up. Was he finally going to learn what was in that crate?

  Aunt Phil dropped a handful of the rue leaves into the boiling water, then got up and went over to the crate. “Ready?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I think so,” Nate said, bracing himself.

  Aunt Phil undid the latch at the top of the crate and lifted the door. Two sleek, furry shapes exploded out, moving so quickly that Nate barely had a chance to see them. They had bright, curious eyes and darted frantically about the room, exploring every nook and cranny.

  “Meet Sir Roland and Lady of Shallot, Sallie for short,” Aunt Phil said.

  “Ferrets?” Nate asked in surprise.

  “No, weasels,” Aunt Phil corrected. “The basilisk’s deadliest enemy—the one thing on earth that can withstand its poisonous gaze from closer than twenty paces.”

  “B-but they’re so cute,” Nate said.

  “It’s important to remember every creature on earth has at least one enemy,” Aunt Phil explained. “And not all of them are ferocious looking. Even cute things can be dangerous, Nate.” She stood up and poured two mugs of rue tea, then handed one to him. “Even you,” she added, ruffling his hair.

  The affectionate gesture surprised him, but he decided he kind of liked it.

  One of the weasels—Roland, Nate thought—galloped over to sniff his knee. Nate bent down and caught the weasel’s eyes. Once he had its attention, he held his hand out for it to sniff. Only then did he reach out to pet it.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Aunt Phil asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Approach animals that way.”

  Worried, Nate asked, “Did I do it wrong?”

  “No. You did it exactly right.”

  Nate shrugged. “It just makes sense.” The truth was, he approached animals like he wished people would approach him. Well, except for the sniffing part.

  After another quick turn around the hut, the weasel was back at his knee, practically climbing up into his lap to see what was in the mug. Nate laughed and petted the creature, trying to get it to settle down. “Curious things, aren’t they?”

  “Very,” Aunt Phil said.

  Nate felt a movement behind him and saw that Greasle had crawled out of the rucksack. She glared unhappily at the weasel. “What is that?” she asked.

  At the sound of her voice, the weasels raced over to her. Frantic with curiosity and twice as big as she was, they sent her tumbling end over teakettle. “Help!” she squeaked. “Call ’em off! They’re killing me!”

  Nate lifted the two weasels off Greasle. “They’re just being friendly.” As he set the weasels down Aunt Phil whistled a short single note. The weasels forgot about him and the gremlin and galloped off to explore Aunt Phil.

  “Huh.” The gremlin dusted herself off. “Seems to me you’ve already got a friend,” she said with a loud sniff.

  Nate stared at her in surprise. Was she jealous? He gently picked Greasle up and set her on his shoulder. “They’re just weasels,” he told her softly. “Nothing near as special as a gremlin. And they’ll never be my friend like you are.”

  Greasle’s face grew pink with pleasure. “Really?”

  “Really,” Nate said.

  “If you’re so fond of that gremlin, you’d best have her drink some of the tea,” Aunt Phil suggested.

  “Okay.” Nate had meant what he’d said—she was his best friend. He held his mug up to her. She sniffed, wrinkled her nose, then took a sip.

  She spit it out. “Yuck.”

  “Drink it,” Nate ordered. “It will protect you from the basilisk’s poison.”

  Greasle made a face. “Why don’t they have to drinks it?” she asked, pointing at the weasels.

  “Because they eat the leaves instead.” Aunt Phil set a small pile of leaves on the floor. The weasels scampered over and began nibbling at the rue.

  Feeling better that they had to share in the nasty stuff, Greasle drank her tea.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JUST AFTER DUSK, Golu returned, dragging his wife’s cousin behind him. The man was nervous and afraid he was in trouble. Once the Dolon and Aunt Phil had assured him he wasn’t, he began to talk. Aunt Phil translated quietly for Nate whenever the man paused for breath.

  “Seven days ago,” she explained, “a man came asking about the local rock formations. He claimed he was a geologist. The Dhughani led him up and down the cliffs. When they came too close to the basilisk’s caverns, the guide steered the geologist away, but said nothing of the creature who lived there. He swears he did not reveal the Dhughani’s sacred secret. They went back to the village that night, and in the morning, the stranger was gone.”

  There was a lot of murmuring as everyone digested this piece of information.

  The Dolon looked at Aunt Phil. “He must have headed straight back to the basilisk.”

  “But wouldn’t it have taken quite some time for him to dig through the rock?” Aunt Phil wondered. “That wall is thick. He had to have used explosives of some kind, dynamite or something. Wouldn’t you have heard it?”

  The Dolon looked chagrined. “Six nights ago, we did hear thunder, but assumed it was one of the rare storms moving through the area.”

  “That was it, then. He blasted the creature out.” Aunt Phil grew furious. “Didn’t he realize he could have harmed it?” She was so angry, she was shaking. Nate was pretty sure the stranger hadn’t worried about hurting the basilisk. In fact, Nate was willing to be
t that Aunt Phil was the only person in the world who’d worry about that.

  She asked the guide a series of rapid questions. The man held his hand up to just below the top of Aunt Phil’s head, then held his arms apart, as if describing a barrel. Last, he pointed to Aunt Phil’s hair, then Nate’s.

  She nodded politely and thanked him for his help. Then she turned to Nate. “Describe for me again the man you saw at the oasis in Arabia last week?”

  “He was shorter than you, and round,” Nate said. “And he had ginger-colored hair. Do you think they could be the same person?”

  “It would be an amazing coincidence to run into two such men at two different places.”

  Nate thought for a moment. “But how did he get here before us? Wouldn’t the mail service have said something if someone else had come through asking for that much fuel as well?”

  Aunt Phil grew thoughtful. “Excellent point. And I think they would have, if he had used the British Mail Service. But there are other air facilities in Cairo. Not many, but a few. And he did have a head start on us.”

  Nate winced. That was his fault. If he had been better at navigating, they would have made it back to Wadi Rumba sooner and the stranger wouldn’t have had such a lead. He waited for Aunt Phil to point that out, but much to his relief, she didn’t.

  The next morning, Aunt Phil woke Nate while it was still dark outside. She shoved another mug of rue tea into his hands and made him drink it. His stomach was so fluttery with nerves, he could hardly get it down. Today was the day he’d come face-to-face with the basilisk. The thought made him want to dive back into his bedroll.

  “Make sure your mirror is well padded so it won’t break on the ride,” Aunt Phil told him as she secured her own pack.

  Nate hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. In fact, he secretly hoped they would never find the basilisk. He was pretty sure he could live his whole life happily without ever coming face-to-face with it.

  But when he remembered all the people who were in danger, he felt ashamed. He was such a miserable coward. He didn’t deserve the name Fludd.

  As Nate reached into his rucksack to check on the mirror, Greasle tried to burrow deeper into the pack. Nate picked her up and plunked her on the ground next to his mug. “Time to drink more tea,” he said, lifting the mug to her mouth.

  Glaring at him, she glugged down a few swallows, then wiped her mouth. “There. Are you happy now?”

  “Not happy, exactly,” Nate said. “But I am glad you’re protected against the poison.”

  The Dolon had their donkeys ready for them outside. He and Aunt Phil talked quietly as she secured her saddlebags on her mount. Nate tried to listen and could just barely make out what they said.

  “Be careful,” the Dolon told her as she climbed up on her donkey.

  “Always,” Aunt Phil replied.

  Nate stared at her in surprise. He’d never met someone who was less careful than she was.

  Then Aunt Phil slapped her reins and clicked her tongue, and their donkeys took off at a trot. Bouncing atop her donkey, Aunt Phil compared Nate’s map to her own.

  “It looks to me like this village here, Dinka, is the last one standing between the basilisk and the river. We’ll go there and try to head it off.”

  Nate tried not to let his mind dwell on what lay ahead of them. Aunt Phil knew what she was doing, he reassured himself. When at last a village appeared on the horizon, Nate swallowed nervously and asked, “Is that it?”

  Aunt Phil consulted her map again. “No, that’s Gando.”

  As they drew closer, Nate gagged at the terrible stench. “What is that?” he asked. It was a foul combination of skunk, rotting fish guts, and the acrid tang of manure.

  “The basilisk’s hunting venom. Best get your scarf up,” Aunt Phil answered.

  Nate pulled his scarf over his mouth and nose. “His cave stank, but not like that.” His voice came out muffled.

  Aunt Phil gave him a quizzical look. “That’s because it doesn’t foul its own lair.”

  Nate tried not to stare at the destroyed village. It felt rude somehow. But it was all too real a reminder of what the basilisk could do to them.

  An hour later, the final village came into sight. “Stop!” Aunt Phil commanded.

  As Nate reined in his donkey, a confusion of noise reached his ears—shouts and cries, the sounds of running feet and stampeding animals. “The basilisk must have been sighted,” Aunt Phil explained grimly. “This is it, Nate. Are you ready?” Without waiting for his reply, she dug her heels into her donkey’s sides, then galloped straight for the village.

  No, Nate thought. I’m not ready. But he followed her anyway.

  Chapter Fifteen

  MUCH TO NATE’S RELIEF, Aunt Phil steered the donkeys around to the far side of the village. The area was barren; nothing but a few thorn trees and a scattering of rocks and stones. Giant boulders had tumbled down the nearby escarpment and littered the ground. “This will do, I think. See where the cliff ridge curves around? We’ll take our stand there so we have something solid at our backs. But first we need to secure the donkeys someplace where they’ll be safe.”

  They steered their mounts closer to the cliffs. Rocks were everywhere—some nearly as big as the Dhughani huts. Aunt Phil chose one of those to hide the donkeys behind.

  Once the donkeys were secure, Aunt Phil called Nate over to help her release the weasels. She undid the crate latch and lifted the door. Two furry heads popped out. Gone was their playfulness; their beady little eyes looked grim and serious.

  “Go on, you two,” Aunt Phil told them. “Bring the basilisk to us.” Like two streaks of furry brown lightning, they raced off across the hard-packed earth.

  Nate heard a sniff. He turned to his pack, where Greasle’s head peeked out. “Good riddance,” she muttered.

  “Pull your scarf up if you’re coming out,” he warned.

  “Not sure I wants to come out,” the gremlin said.

  Nate tended to agree with her, which gave him an idea. “Should I stay here with the donkeys?” he asked Aunt Phil. “To be sure they don’t run off?”

  Grunting, she lifted her pack. “How would you learn anything that way? Besides, you won’t be in any danger. You’re only to observe and learn today. Let’s take up position over there, between those two rocks.”

  Nate turned to Greasle. “What about you? Are you staying with the donkeys or coming with us?”

  “I’ll come, but I’m staying in the pack.” She ducked back down, and Nate heard her burrowing among his things. Wishing he could do the same, he shouldered his rucksack and followed Aunt Phil.

  When he caught up to her, he asked, “What are you going to do with the basilisk once you catch it?”

  “Excellent question, Nate!” Aunt Phil reached into her pack and pulled out an enormous bag. “We’ll put it in this basil-sack—a bag made entirely of rue fibers. That will neutralize all its poisons long enough for us to get it back to its cave without injury.”

  “Okay. But how are we going to get it into the sack?” Nate didn’t think the creature would hop on in just because they asked nicely.

  “Ah,” Aunt Phil said. “We’re going to sniggle it in, that’s how.”

  Nate stared at her. Was she speaking another one of her foreign languages?

  “Here, I’ll show you,” she said. “We’re going to spread open the basil-sack, like this.”

  That’s when Nate saw there was a stiff wire running through the open end. It held the opening rigid, like the mouth of a cave. “Oh! I get it. He’ll think it’s a cave and go in.”

  “Not exactly, but close. We’ll still have to lure it in, using a sniggle pole.” She pulled an odd-looking pole from the side of her pack. With a flick of her wrist, she flung it open so that it was about six feet long. A thick line was attached, and at the end of that line, a sharp hook. “This is where you’ll come in. You’ll climb up onto the top of that rock there. Then I’ll hand you this, but with bait on the hook
to lure the basilisk our way. Your job is to dangle the bait in front of the basil-sack opening, making it look interesting and tasty. Then, once the basilisk’s close enough, toss the bait inside. The beast’ll go after it, and I’ll pop the basil-sack closed. It’ll be safely trapped inside and our job will be done.”

  Nate didn’t think it qualified as “watching and learning,” but it sounded easy enough, as long as everything went according to plan. “What will we use as bait?”

  “She better not think I’ll do it,” Greasle muttered, creeping out of the pack.

  “I’ve got a dead mouse here that the Dolon gave me. Are you ready to give it a try?”

  Nate swallowed back the no that wanted to come out and said, “I guess.”

  “Good. Let me give you a boost so you can reach the top of that rock.”

  She cupped her hands and gave Nate a quick lift up. He grabbed ahold and pulled, grimacing as the rough surface scraped against his stomach.

  “All settled?”

  Nate looked around, surprised at how little room there was. “Yeah, I think so.” He flattened himself on his belly, then took the sniggle pole from Aunt Phil.

  “Now, remember, your job is to stay low and out of sight so the basilisk doesn’t decide it wants you instead of the bait. I’ll do the rest. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Excellent. Now, stay quiet.” Aunt Phil quickly checked the basil-sack to be sure it would stay open, then hurried around to the far side and crouched between it and the rock. Nate lowered the bait in front of the sack and gave it a couple of wiggles, just to get the feel of it.

  Nate saw a flash of brilliant red and green through the last huts of the village. His stomach heaved and he was afraid he was going to throw up. He glanced down at Aunt Phil, whose face was set in grim lines. “It’s coming,” he said.