The Dragon of Avalon

by T.A. Barron

  Basil gazed at the great stag, afraid he had revealed too much. Yet, seeing those rich brown eyes, he decided to say one thing more. "I've always feared," he whispered, "that the creature . . . was really me."

  Gusts of wind blew across the cliff, carrying flakes of snow from distant peaks. A timeless moment passed before Dagda responded to what Basil had told him. And when he did respond, it was by saying a single word:

  "Beware."

  "What?" Basil asked, his voice as shrill as the wailing wind. "Myself? My fears?"

  No answer.

  "What should I beware?"

  "Whatever might diminish you, my son," the stag declared. "Whether it lives within you or without."

  The lizard shook his head. "That's not very helpful."

  The stag stepped closer. "Perhaps not. But I would, in fact, like to help you—just as you helped me. Without your uncanny Sight, I might have carried that leech much farther, grown weak from loss of blood, or even taken ill from Rhita Gawr's evil toxins."

  Coming still closer, he announced, "And so . . . I would like to grant you a boon,"

  Basil's heart leaped. Instantly, he knew what to ask for. "The portal! It was here, on this slope, then buried by a rock slide. Could you find it for me? And fix it so I can use it to travel?"

  "I could," answered the stag. "First, though, tell me where you want to go."

  "Everywhere!" Basil jumped into the air as he shouted, landing with a smack of his tail on the boulder. "I want to see all seven realms—and I have five more to go. I want to explore new places, find someone else like me, and on the way, maybe even find . . ."

  Dagda tilted his head, waiting to hear how he finished the sentence.

  "Myself."

  The stag nodded, bobbing his enormous rack. "A worthy destination."

  He paused, contemplating. "If I grant you this boon, I will make two requests."

  "Name them," said Basil eagerly.

  "First, in every realm you visit, I want you to find something."

  "A treasure?"

  "Of a kind, yes." Dagda's lips curled in a slight grin. "I want you to find . . ."

  Basil braced himself, expecting the worst. Whatever the spirit ford wanted him to find, it would not be easy.

  "A grain of sand."

  Basil blinked, unsure he'd heard correctly. "A . . . what?"

  "A single grain of sand, or soil, or rock. A piece of that magical place."

  Relieved, the lizard sighed. "Well, that won't be too hard."

  "And then," Dagda continued, "I want you to swallow it."

  "To what?"

  "Swallow it, my son. Take into yourself that grain of sand—and whatever secrets it holds." The stag's round eyes gleamed. "You see, I want you to do more than just travel through your world. I want you to become your world. Make it yours! Taste it, swallow it whole. Its wonders. Its mysteries. Its secrets."

  "Like this?" Basil whipped his tail against one of the boulder's quartz crystals, whose facets had endured so many brutal mountain storms that they had started to splinter and crack. A small sliver of the crystal broke off, sparkling as it flew through the air. With the ease of a practiced hunter of insects, he spun around and snapped his jaws closed. Then he swallowed his prize—a tiny piece of Stoneroot.

  Instantly, the light of crystals flashed inside his mind. I am stone, declared a deep, rumbling voice, rich and wise with years.

  I have burned in the belly of a star, the voice continued, flowed in a river of lava, inhaled bolts of lightning, and exhaled precious gems. Time has ripped me apart, melted me down, blended me together, compressed me flat, then stretched me tall. Yet I have endured. For I am stone—the body of mountains, the basin of oceans, the birthplace of crystals.

  Basil sat on the stone, blinking with astonishment. He could still hear the faint echoes of the rumbling voice.

  Catching his eye, Dagda said approvingly, "Yes. Like that."

  "But how—"

  "Just consider it part of my gift to you, my son." The stag's head lifted high. The wound at the base of his antler had stopped bleeding, though it remained swollen and discolored.

  "You said," prompted Basil, "there were two requests?"

  "Yes," answered the stag, his expression suddenly grave. "Here is the second."

  He glanced around the area again, then stepped so close that his nose nearly touched the lizard's snout. Basil could feel Dagda's warm breath upon his face. When, at last, the spirit lord spoke, it was in the quietest of whispers—and Basil understood immediately that Dagda didn't want to risk the possibility that Rhita Gawr, if he was still nearby, might hear his words.

  "Find Merlin," the stag said urgently. "You must find Merlin."

  Basil looked up at him, puzzled. "To warn him about my dream?"

  "That—and more." Dagda's eyes narrowed grimly. "He must be warned that Rhita Gawr has . . . The stag coughed, as if the words hurt his throat. "Entered Avalon! Merlin is the one person who can lead all of the peoples of this world—to find the evil spirit, and then to fight if necessary. And Merlin is also the one person Rhita Gawr will most want to destroy."

  He paused, peering into Basil's green eyes. "So you see . . . all of Avalon is in danger now. But no one—no one—is in greater danger than Merlin."

  The lizard gulped. "Do you know where Merlin is now? Which realm?"

  Dagda shook his head, then whispered, "He could be anywhere in Avalon—any of the seven realms. But I do know this. He is, right now, searching for a terribly dangerous creature. A kreelix—the greatest mortal foe a wizard can face."

  Hearing this, Basil scowled. As if things weren't bad enough already! Cocking his head, he asked, "Could you tell me more? I've never heard of a kreelix."

  "That, my son, is because they disappeared long ago. No one had seen one since the last days of Fincayra, and everyone assumed that Avalon was free of them. Until recently! Now one has been sighted, and Merlin has set out to find it—and to stop it from wreaking terrible havoc."

  Narrowing his eyes further, Dagda spoke in a half whisper, half growl. "What you need to know is that a kreelix possesses wings—huge, jagged, and bony. It uses them to crush, or even smother, its prey."

  Basil shuddered. He moved away, stepping backward on the boulder. "So my dream . . ."

  "Could be a vision of the future. Merlin's future."

  Deep furrows lined Basil's brow. "I must find him. Must warn him!"

  "Indeed you must." The stag hesitated, glancing around once more, then whispered urgently: "The gravest danger of all—the worst nightmare—is if that leech, Rhita Gawr, finds the kreelix before Merlin does! For then Rhita Gawr could give the kreelix greater strength, as well as greater intelligence—something Merlin would never suspect. He would encounter a kreelix more powerful than any wizard has ever known. And the result could be . . ."

  "His death," finished Basil grimly.

  "One advantage we have," said the stag, "is that the leech does not yet know about the kreelix. So you must move with haste as you search! Yes, even as you remember to swallow one grain of sand from every realm."

  Not far from the stag's hooves, hiding in a tiny crack beneath a boulder, a dark creature stirred. Its bloodshot eye burned intensely. For it had learned much of importance. And now, if it succeeded in its plan . . . the fearsome kreelix would soon be joined by a powerful ally. One who feasted on blood.

  Unaware of the leech, Basil declared, "I must go. Now."

  "Wait," replied the stag, returning to his full, resonant voice. "Before you depart, I must ask you something."

  Uncertain what it could be, the lizard asked, "Which is?"

  "Your name. Tell me your name."

  "Basil. I'm called Basil. But don't ask me why."

  The stag's ears swiveled. "From the smell of basil leaves, I would guess. One of your first magical scents, perhaps. Am I right?"

  "Y-yes . . . but how did you ever—"

  "A lucky guess, my son." From deep in the stag's throat
came a sound like a satisfied chuckle. "And now, my good Basil, it is time for us to part. I must go to Elen, to guide her to the Otherworld. And you must start your search . . . wherever it may lead."

  Grimly, the lizard nodded. "Wherever it may lead."

  "Farewell, good Basil." Flexing his powerful legs, the stag whirled around, stamping his hooves so hard that stones splintered beneath them. He started to pace away, his gait quickening to a gallop across the cliff.

  "Wait!" cried Basil, suddenly alarmed. "What about the portal?"

  Dagda stopped. Swishing his antlers through the air, he turned back around. "You won't be needing that," he declared, a strange gleam in his brown eyes.

  "But how—" protested Basil, waving his little wings.

  "There are other ways to travel," said Dagda. "Some of them are slow . . . and others are fast—as fast as the wind."

  19: TIME TO FLY

  Journeys take endlessly varied forms. They are the ultimate shape-shifters. Only one thing do all journeys have in common: Somewhere, perhaps when you least expect it, they begin.

  Instantly, a warm breeze swept over Basil, filling his lungs and fluttering his wings. The smell of cinnamon tickled his nostrils. Fresh wind encircled him, whirling constantly: an airy embrace.

  "Hello again, little hhhwanderer."

  "Aylah!" shouted Basil, so delighted he jumped off the crystalline boulder and landed on a rock at the very edge of the cliff. Small shards broke off and tumbled down the steep walls, clattering noisily. "I'm so glad to see—er, feel—you again. I've missed you."

  "And I have missed you, little hhhwanderer. Though I have traveled many places, even farahhhway hhhworlds, I have thought of you often."

  "Faraway worlds?" asked Basil, amazed, as Aylah wrapped an invisible knot of air around his tail. "I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. You did tell me, long ago, that you're a ceaseless traveler."

  "As hhhwatchful as the stars, as restless as the hhhwind," she whispered in his ear. "Now, though, I am here at your side. For Dagda summoned me, hhhwanting me to take you on a journey."

  At the mention of the great spirit's name, Basil turned to the spot on the cliff where he'd been standing only a moment before. But Dagda, in the form of a mighty stag, had bounded off. No sign of him—or the evil leech who had clung to his antler—remained.

  As much to himself as to the wind sister, Basil muttered, "I hope Avalon will be all right."

  "As do I, little hhhwanderer." The cinnamon scent grew stronger as Aylah brushed past his face. "For this is the hhhworld between all hhhworlds, a bridge hhhwhere all magic meets."

  "But Aylah . . . Rhita Gawr is here! In Avalon! I saw him—in a strange sort of way. Disguised as a bloodthirsty leech. Believe me, Aylah. He's here."

  The swirling wind grew colder, frosting Basil's ears. "That is dreadful news, little hhhwanderer. Dreadful beyond hhhwords. Avalon is in grave danger."

  "There's more," the lizard snarled. He drew a sharp breath. "Merlin's in danger, too. He's searching for a kreelix, right now, in one of the realms."

  "A kreelix?" The wind sister gusted doubtfully, shaking Basil's snout. "They are gone, little hhhwa—"

  "No more!" His tail pounded the rock, making it teeter on the cliff's edge. "One has been seen. Dagda told me so! And Merlin's searching for it, looking everywhere. We need to find him before—"

  "Rhita Gahhhwr finds the kreelix," finished Aylah, blowing decisively against his back. "Or else that leech could join hhhwith the kreelix, making it more pohhhwerful than ever."

  In the darkness beneath a nearby boulder, a wormlike creature twisted its circular mouth. Its body trembled in what might have been a silent, sneering laugh. But its lone bloodshot eye burned with unfathomable hatred.

  Basil nodded at the wind sister's words. Then his ears turned with a question. "What exactly makes kreelixes so dangerous? Dagda called them the greatest mortal foe a wizard can face."

  "Indeed they are," said Aylah with a sudden rush of air. "I hhhwill tell you hhhwhy, but later. Right nohhhw hhhwe must go! I hhhwill carry you, lifting your hhhwings."

  Basil nodded gratefully. He stretched out his wings to the fullest. They resembled two ragged leaves; as the wind blew faster, they started to rustle.

  "Hhhwhere do hhhwe start to look? Hhhwhat place do hhhwe go?"

  "Every place! Aylah, we can't stop until we find Merlin. Wherever he is." His green eyes flamed. "We'll look in every realm. We'll fly all the way around the Great Tree, searching the whole world, if we must."

  The wind fluttered, breathing warmly all around him. "You are truly a hhhwanderer, my friend."

  With a gentle gust, she tapped his nose. "But you underestimate the size of your hhhworld. Even if hhhwe took many years, hhhwe could never see the hhhwhole Tree. Never! There are realms deep hhhwithin the trunk, and countless branches reaching starhhhward, that no one has ever explored."

  She paused, and the wind fell still. All at once, she blew again, more strongly than before.

  "Our best hope to find him," she declared, "is to move fast, soaring high above the root realms. I can see far, very far, searching for any sign of the hhhwizard. So hhhwe can look—but only as hhhwe hhhwhoosh past, flying like the hhhwind, never stopping."

  Basil shook his snout. "I must stop, though. Just briefly."

  "Hhhwhy?"

  "I promised Dagda." He hesitated, recalling the rumbling voice of Stoneroot. "Promised him I'd taste—actually swallow—a bit of every realm,"

  Aylah buffeted him. "To take some of Avalon's magic into yourself?"

  He gave an uncertain nod. "I don't know why, exactly. Or what good it does me. But I did promise."

  "Then do it you shall, little hhhwanderer. Although it hhhwill delay us a bit, Dagda must have his reasons."

  "What reasons, though? He's asking me to slow our search. To endanger Merlin—and also Avalon. For what?"

  A windy voice rushed past his ear. "For your future, perhaps."

  Basil frowned. How could anyone, even Dagda, have an idea of his future?

  "Shall hhhwe?" urged the wind sister.

  In answer, he slapped his feet against the lichen-covered rock, unsure where—or when—he would touch the ground again. "All right," he proclaimed. "Time to fly!"

  20: MUD

  What you see is temporary. What you cannot see is eternal. That's why I always prefer to look with eyes closed . . . and heart open.

  Suddenly, with a rush of wind, Basil's feet left the rock. Warm air encircled him, buoying him, ruffling the edges of his ears. Then, all at once, he was flying—without any effort, without even a beat of his outspread wings. The cliff where he'd met Dagda shrank beneath him, becoming a mere wrinkle on the mountain ridge; the boulders where he'd lived so long diminished swiftly, becoming just a mass of pebbles.

  High into the sky Aylah carried him, supporting his bony wings with her vast, invisible form. At first, he felt unstable, as if he should be doing more to keep himself aloft by flapping his wings, steadying his tail against turbulence, or banking his every turn. Soon, though, he gained more confidence. He could still turn or even dive if he chose, but he simply trusted Aylah to carry him wherever she wanted. All he had to do was keep his wings open—and ride the wind.

  "Hhhwest to east hhhwe shall fly," breathed Aylah's voice. "Until hhhwe find him! Even if hhhwe must go all the hhhway around the Great Tree. Is that hhhwhat you hhhwant, little hhhwanderer?"

  Basil only nodded. Yet his expression of stern resolve showed the slightest hint of a grin. Here he was, sailing on wings infinitely wider than his own, riding on the back of the breeze. Yes, Aylah. This is what I want.

  Currents of snow-chilled air, rising from the mountains below, buffeted his wings. He looked down, studying the landscape. There, towering above the rest of Olanabram's high peaks, stood the immense, snowy summit where Merlin and Hallia had been married. Across his mind flashed memories of their wedding, and all the creatures he'd seen there—ranging from a tiny light flyer
, as small as a windblown spark, to the giant Shim, as huge as a hillside. A sylph . . . a clan of deer people . . . a fire angel. And that dragon, Gwynnia, with her nasty little offspring.

  Basil gazed down at the mountains, which gleamed as if they were made more of light than rock. And at the shining glaciers of the Dun Tara snowfields. Even the feathery backs of the eaglefolk, soaring along the ridges far below, radiated light.

  This brightness didn't fade as Aylah's warm wind carried him higher. All of Stoneroot seemed to shine. The immense circle of stones that was the heart of Elen's sacred compound looked as luminous as a ring of fire. The neighboring fields, home to bell-ringing farmers and animals, glowed like large green lanterns.

  "Light is really part of this realm," he mused, squinting at the radiant landscape. Now he understood why he'd seen a brilliant flash at the very instant he swallowed that piece of crystal and heard the words I am stone.

  "Stars shine the brightest on Stoneroot, more than any other root-realm," Aylah replied. "Many hhhwonder hhhwhy, but only the hhhwind sisters can explain it."

  "Can you tell me?" he asked eagerly.

  "No, I cannot. My sisters and I have promised not to reveal that secret to anyone." Then she added, after nudging him with a gentle gust, "Perhaps you hhhwill be the first of your kind to go to the stars, great explorer. Then you, too, hhhwill knohhhw hhhwhy."

  Basil, though, had stopped thinking about the stars. That phrase of your kind rang in his ears. Just what kind was that? He might never know. After his conversation with Dagda, he knew that he wasn't related to dragons. But to what species was he related? Would he never see someone like himself? Or find out who his parents were? Or, for that matter, whether he had any parents at all?

  The sudden roar of a rockfall shook him out of his thoughts. Having spent so many years among loose stones that could crush anyone who happened to be in their way, he instantly turned to the source of the sound. Strangely, it hadn't come from down below, in the mountains—but from somewhere higher, right at his altitude. How could that possibly be? There weren't any rocks way up here!