"Aylah, what exactly makes a kreelix so perilous? Those wings?"
"No," she replied. "Hhhworse than its hhhwings, by far, is its unique pohhhwer."
"Surely," he protested, "Merlin's own magical powers can defeat—"
"They cannot!" she shouted. "They are hhhworthless. Don't you understand? A kreelix devours magic. Uses its ohhhwn terrible pohhhwer, negatus mysterium, to suck the magic out of anyone, no matter hohhhw skilled."
Stunned at this news, he glanced down. Though the wind made his eyes water, he saw, galloping away from the ridge, a pair of golden unicorns. Their hides gleamed as they sped away, fleeing for their lives. "Then how can Merlin possibly fight?"
"Hhhwith his bare hands, if he must. But never hhhwith magic! Even his staff is useless for it, too, is made hhhwith magic."
"So he can use only his mortal strength?" Basil shook his head vigorously. "That won't be enough!"
"I knohhhw," she howled, racing over the treetops. "Hhhwhen a hhhwizard is caught by a kreelix . . ." She whistled angrily. "The hhhwizard usually dies. And that is hhhwithout the interference of—"
"Rhita Gawr," he finished with a snarl. "Do you think that evil spirit is down there right now, helping the kreelix?"
"Hhhwe cannot tell."
Basil stretched his small head forward, as if he could make her fly faster. "What will you do once we get there?"
"Distract the beast, perhaps, so Merlin might escape. Beyond that, I am hhhwholly helpless."
"Helpless?" Basil blinked in astonishment. "But his life's in danger!"
"So is mine, little hhhwanderer. And hhhworse, I cannot even give my life to save his! For if any part of my hhhwind, even the slightest breath, touches the kreelix's fangs—all my magic hhhwill instantly vanish. The kreelix hhhwould barely feel my touch. And since my hhhwhole being is made of magic, hhhwhen I vanish . . . I hhhwill also die."
He released an angry growl, barely audible above the loud whooshing of the wind. "Then," he declared, "I will help him."
"You? Hohhhw?"
"I don't know, Aylah. My body's made of flesh and bones, not magic. So at least I can try."
"No, little friend, you cannot! You, too, are made of magic. I see it in the glohhhw of your eyes. Just one touch of those fangs and you hhhwould lose everything. Your magic—and maybe also your life."
His eyes narrowed. "Whatever magic I have is small—very small. Losing it wouldn't hurt Avalon one bit. But losing Merlin? That's something else."
"Impossible," the wind sister countered. "You cannot help him."
In a voice that seemed much bigger than his body, he replied, "Escaping from that windtaker—that was also impossible."
Aylah, racing toward the ridge, waited before answering. "All right," she said at last. "But this is beyond bold, little hhhwanderer. This is crazy."
"My specialty." The memory of the windtaker renewed his confidence, strengthening his small limbs. Then, as they reached the ridge, he suddenly saw the whole hulking mass of the kreelix. Instantly all his confidence vanished.
The kreelix, shaped like an enormous bat, towered over Merlin. Though the wizard's tunic expanded with the rushing wind, he seemed very small—a mere dwarf by comparison. Standing upright on the forest floor with its huge, hooked wings extended, the evil beast was forcing him back against a thick tangle of brush that grew beneath a massive old cedar.
In just a few more seconds, Basil could see, all Merlin's routes of escape would be cut off. If he went forward, it would only be into the kreelix's fatal embrace; backward, into the impenetrable brush. And if he used any magic at all, it would be instantly swallowed. His wizard's staff lay useless in a patch of ferns, having been cast aside.
As the kreelix slowly advanced, moving with the adeptness of a highly intelligent killer, its leathery wings whipped at the air and its bloodred mouth snarled. Within that mouth, three fangs arched toward Merlin. Saliva dripped off their sword-sharp tips, gleaming like deadly poison.
The dream! All at once, Basil remembered it—the wings, the stench of death, his own helplessness and despair.
So it was true. All true. Merlin is going to die . . . here and now.
The terrible reality paralyzed him, clutching at his heart. All his blood ceased flowing. His lungs stopped breathing. If it weren't for the persistent ache of his broken wing, he wouldn't even know that he had a body at all.
Wait, he realized. That ache . . .
His wing really was broken. He did have a body, a life, of his own. And he had something more, as well: the choice of how to use it.
He took a slow, ragged breath. Aylah, meanwhile, circled the area, whipping the branches with her wind, trying to distract the kreelix. But the monster paid no heed. It continued to advance on Merlin, rustling its dark wings menacingly.
Suddenly Basil understood something else. It was those wings—so huge and terrifying—that he'd seen in his dream. Not his own! And if the kreelix's wings meant deathly attack . . . his own wings, even if they were small and wounded, could mean something different. Very different.
"Aylah, bring me closer!"
"Are you sure, little hhhwanderer?"
"Yes. Do it now."
Swirling madly, the wind sister lowered him toward the confrontation. Merlin's sleeves fluttered, while the assailant's leathery wings billowed like sails. Yet neither the wizard nor the kreelix seemed to notice. They continued to glare at each other, watching for any weakness.
Basil's mind whirled like the wind, trying to decide what to do. How can I help? I can't fly, can't stop that thing. I'm just one person, just one life—
His thoughts halted, caught by that final phrase. And he remembered what Dagda had said at Merlin's wedding: One life, no matter how small, can make a difference.
The old cedar creaked loudly as it swayed above Merlin's head. As if in answer, the kreelix let loose another shrill, ear-piercing shriek. The horrible noise made the wizard stumble back another step, so that his back jammed against the wall of brush. Thorns tore at the cloth of his tunic, while branches raked at his hair.
"Nohhhw he is trapped," wailed the wind sister.
"Drop me, Aylah!"
"But little hhhwan—"
"Drop me now!”
With a final gust to guide him toward Merlin, the wind sister released him. Suddenly he was plunging downward, spinning as he fell. Air rushed over him, whistling in his ears, but it was not the warm, embracing air of his friend. Instinctively he tried to spread his wings to slow himself, until a sharp pain erupted in his shoulder.
Down he tumbled, unable to aim where he might land. Confused images spun below him—a bloodred mouth, a tattered tunic, a tangle of brush, a daggerlike fang that dripped saliva.
All at once, he slammed into something hard. A branch of the cedar tree! Taking the impact on his back, he struck with such force that all his breath burst out of him. He heard the crunch of his broken wing even as brutal pain shot through his whole body. Needles, brittle and sharp because the old tree was on the verge of dying, sprayed into the air and jabbed against his scales.
Through the cedar's branches he plunged, smashing into bark, twigs, needles, and cones on the way. Down, down, down. At each new impact, he flailed his little legs, trying to grab hold, throwing his back into the effort despite the painful throbbing of his wing. But he kept falling through the old tree, bouncing from branch to lower branch with a cascade of dead needles.
Finally, he hit a bough squarely on his underside. With all his remaining strength, he squeezed tight with his legs, hoping to straddle the branch. But he started to slide off sideways, rapidly losing his hold. Just before he lost his grip and slipped over the edge, he swung his tail up, throwing his weight in the opposite direction.
It worked. He lay atop the bough, stationary at last. Panting with exhaustion, aching all over, the little green fellow who had fallen from the sky peered cautiously over the side.
What he saw made him want to freeze—or, if he moved at
all, to crawl away and hide somewhere. The kreelix stood right below him! Just under the end of the branch, the beast's mouth opened wide, exposing its three murderous fangs. Its eyeless face seemed to be laughing, gloating in triumph.
Meanwhile, backed against the brush at the base of the tree, stood Merlin. His face showed an expression Basil had never expected to see on a great wizard. Fear. Heart-wrenching fear. Merlin's long black hair brushed against his shoulders as he swung his head, searching desperately for some way to escape. Yet no way existed. Between the wall of thorns and the kreelix's wide wings and hooked claws, he was completely surrounded.
An idea burst into Basil's mind. As dangerous as it was desperate, the idea instantly took hold. I can't defeat this monster—or even hope to harm it. But I can buy Merlin some time! He might still escape. His brow furrowed. Even if I won't.
Ignoring his painful shoulder and wing, he started to crawl farther out on the branch. Hard as he tried not to lose his footing on the slippery, warped bark, he nearly slid off when a twig supporting one of his hind legs suddenly snapped. Then, just when he'd righted himself, the kreelix released another terrible shriek. This time, Basil knew, the kreelix intended the cry to be the last sound its prey ever heard. The force of the shrill cry shook the cedar's branches, almost knocking Basil off his perch. Barely, amidst the rain of needles and cones, he clung on.
Not for long, though. Even before the shriek ended, Basil saw that the kreelix's mouth was open to its widest. And he knew that the moment for his idea had arrived.
Gathering all his strength, he dashed a few steps farther on the limb. Then, without a second's hesitation, he leaped. Through the air he plunged—right into the mouth of the monster.
He tumbled between two of the deadly fangs, just missing their gleaming tips by a hairsbreadth. As light as a twig, he landed on top of the kreelix's bloodred tongue. And then he did something no twig could have done.
He bit the tongue. Hard! Clamping his slim jaws on the soft flesh, he squeezed with all his might—so ferociously that one of his tiny front teeth cracked and broke off.
A new shriek erupted from the kreelix. The noise, for Basil, was deafening, echoing all around him in the cavernous mouth. But he barely noticed, since he needed all his concentration to stay focused on one goal: hanging on.
The kreelix writhed and shook its head madly. All the while it continued to screech, and also to wag its tongue, bashing Basil against the roof of its mouth again and again. Soon he felt dizzy, as well as nauseous from the overpowering stench of the kreelix's breath, something like curdled vomit.
Still he hung on. Biting with every last morsel of strength, he endured the shrieks in his ears and the assaults on his body. His shoulder and back stung with excruciating pain; the smell made him gag; his jaws felt ready to explode.
And still he hung on. He didn't notice the blood pouring down from his broken tooth, nor the fact that he could no longer hold his wounded wing against his back. The wing, now just a mass of broken bones and ripped flesh, slapped lifelessly whenever the beast's tongue moved.
And still he hung on. Darkness seeped into his mind, like poison polluting a stream. He began to lose awareness of where he was, and why. He even forgot, as the darkness stifled his thoughts, what had caused him to sacrifice his one life.
At last, the darkness overwhelmed him completely. His battered body finally relaxed, slumped lifelessly in the mouth of the kreelix. Even then, however, some of his muscles remained rigid, so firmly fixed that no force in Avalon could possibly budge them.
His jaws still held tightly to the monster's tongue.
31: A MISSING TOOTH
Funny thing about awareness: What is right there in front of our eyes is often harder to see than what's missing.
Ugh . . . what a terrible taste!
When Basil formed that thought, the first one to enter his mind in what seemed like a very long time, he did the best thing possible. He spat. Out of his jaws flew a large hunk of raw, bloody meat that smelled even worse than it looked. It was the smell, as putrid as decomposing flesh, that fully revived him.
"Yuck!" he exclaimed. "That tasted as bad as—" He stopped, both because he was at a loss for the right word—and because he had just opened his eyes. The sight that greeted him suddenly flooded his mind with memories. And also with questions.
He was still in the forest of Woodroot. Towering trees, draped with moss, grew everywhere. Rich aromas of cedar and spruce and lute's neck fern sweetened the air. A flock of summer geese honked enthusiastically as they flew overhead. But something even more wondrous captured his attention.
Gazing down at him was a strong, clear-eyed man with a thick black beard. Long locks of black hair fell to the man's shoulders. His open hand, which held Basil, felt both sturdy and gentle at once. This was a man Basil recognized immediately, a man he could never forget.
"Merlin! You're alive."
"Only thanks to you, my little friend." The wizard lifted his hand, examining the small creature closely—so closely that his prominent nose, as pointed as the beak of a hawk, almost poked Basil's side.
"Yes, now I'm sure of it," Merlin proclaimed. "We have met before, haven't we? Twice before! At my wedding—and then atop a cliff in Stoneroot."
"Why . . . yes," mumbled Basil. "But how did you survive? I mean, the kreelix—"
"Is dead," finished the wizard. "Because of your bravery." He smiled gratefully at the tiny creature in the palm of his hand. "And so I am in your debt twice over. For the life of my son, whom you saved from being crushed to death by a sleeping giant." His dark eyes danced with amusement. "Though Shim, to this day, puzzles over what ever happened to that honey." Then his face grew serious again. "And now for my own life, as well."
He regarded Basil fondly. "Tell me your name, little friend."
"First tell me what happened! The kreelix—the tongue—all that shrieking . . ."
Merlin spun around. He tilted his hand, revealing the new scene. But the instant Basil saw what lay on the forest floor, he shouted in surprise and leaped into the air, flapping his small wings wildly. The realization that he was flying again, painlessly working his wings, shocked him almost as much as the sight Merlin had shown him: the lifeless body of the kreelix. Struggling to comprehend, Basil flew so erratically that he barely managed to land back on the wizard's open hand.
"What—my wings . . . when? And the kreelix! It's . . . it's all—but . . . well, errr, but how?" he sputtered.
Amused, the wizard stroked his fulsome beard. "Shall we take your questions one at a time? Or shall I attempt to answer them in that same fashion?"
Still in shock, Basil merely stared at the hulking form of the dead kreelix. It lay crushed beneath a toppled tree—the old cedar where Basil had first landed. The beast's wings, once so powerful, were now utterly lifeless, just contorted folds of skin, no more dangerous than discarded rags. And its mouth, only partly open, dribbled blood that stained the needle-strewn ground dark red. Just one look at the mouth was enough to make Basil shudder in revulsion.
"Hmmm," said the wizard thoughtfully. "I take that as a request to go one at a time."
Stepping over the hooked wing tip of the kreelix, Merlin explained, "Your courageous gambit—sweet Dagda, you actually leaped into the mouth of a kreelix!—totally distracted my assailant. For just a few seconds, mind you. But that gave me time to escape from its trap. And then to call for help."
"From the hhhwind," breathed a familiar, airy voice.
"Aylah!" shouted Basil, flapping his wings ecstatically. "You're here."
"I hhhwas never far ahhhway, little hhhwanderer." Sweeping closer to Basil as he sat in the wizard's hand, she encircled him with warm air. Above all the fragrances of the forest, he now smelled the scent of cinnamon. "You are even braver than I thought."
"Crazier, you mean," he replied. He grinned at his invisible friend, revealing his missing front tooth. Then he turned back to the body of the kreelix. "And this tree?"
/> "We pushed it over, Aylah and I." Merlin walked over to the fallen cedar. Gently, he placed his hand upon its rippled bark and stroked the ancient trunk. "Though it was near the end of its days, we still asked its permission to die for this cause. It agreed—and most grateful we are for its sacrifice."
For an instant, Basil thought some of the cedar's dead needles actually moved, quivering ever so gently. It could have been merely a breath from the wind sister . . . or maybe something more.
He looked up at Merlin and spread his small, bony wings. "And these? You healed the broken one?"
"Broken, torn, shredded, and pulverized," corrected the wizard. He nodded with a hint of pride. "You challenged me considerably to fix that one. Is it stiff at all? Skin too tight?"
Basil rustled the wing. "Supple as a new sapling."
"Good." With a wave at the corpse, the wizard continued, "The hardest part, frankly, was removing you from that mouth. It wasn't the kreelix who made it difficult, either. It was you." He turned his hand to look into Basil's face. "Although you were completely unconscious by then, you simply would not let go."
A touch of pink colored Basil's normally green eyes, then melted away.
"In fact, I had no choice but to cut you out."
Again, Basil shuddered. "So that piece of meat in my mouth . . ."
"Was part of the kreelix's tongue." Seeing the little fellow's frown of disgust, Merlin reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a sprig of greenery.
"Here," he said, handing the sprig to Basil. "Sweetwater mint. I always carry some to freshen my breath. Especially," he added a bit shyly, "when I'm about to meet Hallia." He gave an encouraging nod. "Go ahead, chew it. Even the terrible taste of a kreelix is no match for fresh mint."
Cautiously, Basil bit off a strip of one leaf. As soon as he began to chew, a burst of cool sweetness exploded in his mouth, as if he'd just taken a drink from a river of mint. He gladly took another bite, and chewed avidly.
"Excellent," remarked the wizard. Abruptly, his face fell. "Sorry about your front tooth, though."