The Dragon of Avalon

  One by one, with gathering speed, the scales all over his body burst away, falling to the ground. In their place shone new, vibrant green scales that gleamed like polished emeralds. More amazing still, the scales started growing, swelling in size—along with every part of his body.

  First to expand was his head. Swiftly it grew, larger and larger, until its massive jaws could have swallowed a whole village. Within those jaws swelled a huge, green-tinted tongue. His eyes grew into luminous stars, radiating green. His once-tiny nose also expanded, until his nostrils became enormous black archways. And his small, cupped ears stretched so tall that a full-grown man easily could have stepped inside.

  Teeth by the hundreds grew in his jaws. One row was not enough: The sharpest ones, rising like mountain pinnacles, sat three rows deep. Only one place lacked any teeth at all—the spot at the front of his mouth where he'd broken his tooth biting the kreelix.

  Basil's neck, back, and tail expanded, so rapidly that his swelling frame knocked over trees, pushed aside boulders, and completely crushed the remains of the kreelix. Merlin leaped out of the way to avoid getting flattened by the burgeoning chest. And when a towering spruce, uprooted by the giant shoulder pressing against it, fell on top of Basil's back, he barely noticed.

  His gargantuan legs rippled with powerful new muscles. Perilous claws sprouted from his feet. Meanwhile, his wings, no longer as little as crumpled leaves, swelled in size, extending their reach so far they could have covered the surface of a lake.

  Basil's tail grew longer and longer and longer. When finally it stopped, it reached deep into the trees of the surrounding forest. At its very tip, the tail widened into a massive, bony club that could have knocked another dragon out of the sky.

  For Basil had, indeed, become a dragon. Or, at least, something that dramatically resembled a dragon—one larger and more powerful than had ever lived in Avalon. The fierce dragon Gwynnia, who had almost destroyed him at the wedding, who had shown him no more respect than a man would show a mosquito, would have fit entirely inside his cavernous mouth.

  "Well, well," he thundered in a deep, resonant voice that shook the trees. "Look at me now!"

  Merlin, brushing himself off after his dive into a holly bush, answered with just one word: "Indeed."

  Grabbing his staff, the wizard paced slowly around Basil's massive head, inspecting this truly gargantuan creature. Finally, he stopped beneath one of the enormous, green-glowing eyes. Peering up at the radiant pupil, he said, "Now you have the body you were always meant to have."

  "A body," whistled Aylah as she swept around the glade, "as hhhwide as your dreams."

  "A body," echoed Merlin, "as great as your heart."

  Basil started to wag his tail triumphantly, but stopped when three tall spruces came crashing down with an explosion of broken branches. An angry flock of wrens took flight, screeching at him for demolishing their homes. And a family of badgers, their den suddenly exposed by uplifted roots, shrieked in surprise and ran off. Yet as chagrined as he felt for having caused so much damage, Basil felt even more amazed. That was me who did that. Me! With my own tail. My own body!

  "Sorry about that," he muttered to the wrens, his voice now only as loud as an average thunderstorm. Yet somehow he didn't sound too remorseful.

  Aylah breezed by his great green head, bending the tip of one of his ears. "Dagda, for all his hhhwisdom, hhhwas hhhwrong. He said you hhhwere not really a dragon. And yet here you are, the most hhhwondrous dragon I have ever seen in all the hhhworlds."

  He gave a satisfied grunt, but kept his tail stationary. Still, he glanced behind to make sure no more trees had been toppled.

  "Not true," announced Merlin, pounding his staff on the ground. "Dagda was perfectly correct."

  Basil's massive snout wrinkled in puzzlement. Aylah ceased flying and hovered in the air, awaiting the wizard's explanation .

  "Dagda said, You are not a mere dragon. And so you are not!" Leaning closer to the sweeping jaw, Merlin added in a quiet voice, "The crucial word in that sentence is not dragon, but mere."

  He raised his staff, gripping its shaft, and pointed it at Basil's eye. "That green glow, do you know what it is?"

  "No," came the answer, echoing among the trees.

  "That, my friend, is élano. The essential, life-giving substance of the Great Tree. The sum of all seven sacred Elements. The most powerful magic anywhere."

  He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "From the very moment you hatched, you possessed an extraordinary amount of élano. Like my staff here, Ohnyalei, you have always glowed with the light of that magic."

  As he spoke, the staff's seven runes swelled in brightness. Basil could see them all clearly: a butterfly, for the wizard's power of Changing; a cracked stone, for Protecting; a sword, for Naming; a dragon's tail, for Eliminating; an eye, for Seeing; and a star within a circle, for Leaping. All these, Basil knew, Merlin had gained on his Quest of the Seven Songs, a favorite of wandering bards. He decided to ask Merlin someday to explain the runes' meaning—especially the dragon's tail.

  "And so," the wizard explained, "you are no mere dragon. You are, in truth, a unique kind of creature, a dragon with a remarkable amount of magic. You are an élanodragon."

  Basil, not sure he deserved such a name, furrowed his great brow.

  "Ahhh," breathed Aylah as she flew across his enormous neck, "that is hhhwhy your body has taken so long to develop, and hhhwouid have taken longer but for Merlin's help. No hhhw, at last, you are grohhhwn."

  Merlin turned his head, looking from the very tip of Basil's snout, down his long neck, over the massive wings, and down the tail that vanished into the trees. Adding to Aylah's comment, he said, "Fully grown." Then, looking up at Basil's eye again, he chided, "And you wanted a bigger tail!"

  Basil laughed out loud—a deep, full, mirthful sound that might have come from the immense harp strings strung between the clouds of Airroot. Merely the force of his breath was enough to break off dozens of branches, along with moss, cones, and several birds' nests. Then, to tease Merlin back, he reached out with his tongue and, with a tiny flick, knocked the wizard over backward into a patch of ferns.

  Merlin picked himself up again. Spitting out a frond of fern, he grumbled, "What ever happened to respect for one's elders? You may be as big as a mountain, but I'm at least twenty years older than you."

  "And I," said the wind sister, swishing through the spruce boughs, "am at least several thousand years older than you both."

  All three of them burst into laughter. Basil's mirth exploded, shattering more branches and spraying needles and cones everywhere. Aylah's bubbled and seemed to tickle the very air. And Merlin's came so gleefully that he lost his balance again and nearly fell back into the ferns.

  Steadying himself, the wizard stepped closer to his gargantuan friend. With the top of his staff, he tapped lightly on the gleaming scales of an oversize knuckle. "Hmmm," he said, listening to the vibrant echo. "I believe these scales are infused with élano. Which should make them impervious to any attack, including fire." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Which is good, since you probably don't have the ability to breathe fire yourself."

  Basil grunted in surprise. Twitching his ears as if he'd been insulted, he drew in a titanic breath. Narrowing his eyes, he made a deep, rumbling noise in his throat. Then, with a look of pride worthy of a fire-breathing dragon, he opened his gigantic mouth and exhaled with frightening force. Out of his mouth came air, saliva, and a deafening roar.

  But no fire.

  Lowering his hands from his ears, Merlin gazed up at Basil's huge eye—which, for the first time, showed a hint of disappointment. "As I thought, my friend. No dragon whose egg hatches in the realm of Woodroot can breathe fire."

  The wizard shrugged. "Part of Dagda and Lorilanda's overall plan, you see. Keeps the trees from burning down every time two dragons have a little spat." Glancing up at Basil, he went on, "You might not know this, but the dragons of Waterroot also don't bre
athe fire. They breathe—"

  "Ice, I know," Basil rumbled like a landslide. "Blue ice. Useful in a fight, but still not as impressive as fire." He heaved a sigh, cracking more branches.

  Merlin placed his hand on the gargantuan knuckle. "Even if you can't breathe fire, you more than make up for that with your great size. And great magic."

  "And something more pohhhwerful yet," added Aylah as she flew between Basil's ears. "Your great heart."

  Circling closer, she continued, "You are the bravest creature I have ever knohhhwn—the only one in history to defeat a hhhwindtaker as hhhwell as a kreelix. And you accomplished those feats hhhwhen you hhhwere small, as small as a frail-hhhwinged butterfly."

  As she swept past his ears, brushing against the greenish-yellow hairs that grew along their edges, Basil released a low rumble of appreciation. His eyes no longer showed disappointment, but something more like gratitude.

  "And now," declared Merlin, with a sweep of his arm. "About that name."

  He strode a few paces away from Basil, so that he could see more of the immense face. "No longer shall you carry the name Basil—a name quite fitting for a tasty little herb, or perhaps even a feisty little warrior. But not for a dragon! And certainly not for Avalon's only true élanodragon."

  The wizard raised his staff and announced: "From this day forward, your name shall be . . . Basilgarrad. A most worthy name! Be sure to say it properly, with the accent at the end—garrahhd—as it would be said in the Fincayran Old Tongue. For in that most ancient language, your name means Basil the Great Heart."

  Above Merlin's head, Aylah whirled through the trees, whistling her approval. Great heart, great heart, great heart, the wind seemed to say. Tousled by the gusts, the treetops nodded in agreement.

  Though Basil's mind spun with delight, he made no big show of emotion. He merely grinned, just enough to reveal the gap of a missing tooth.

  35: NEW ADVENTURES

  And now, my friends, a dragon's toast! Here's to life's little blessings: wars, plagues, and all forms of evil. Their presence keeps us alert—and their absence keeps us grateful.

  Merlin lowered his staff. Drawing a full breath of forest air, replete with the resins of spruce and cedar, he looked into Basilgarrad's gigantic green eye. When he spoke, it was in the voice of an elder wizard, with celebration and sorrow, hope and longing.

  "This world of ours is a truly wondrous place—full of great mysteries and great contrasts. Chief among those mysteries, I am afraid, is how a world with so much beauty and richness could also be home to greed, arrogance, and intolerance. How can a world that produces abundant fruits, inspires timeless poetry, builds lasting friendships, and creates chances for us to realize our dreams also contain the horrors of war and religious hatred? That is the greatest challenge of our time, my friend: to tip the world's scale, to find hope where there might be despair, to help all living creatures live together in harmony."

  He paused, gazing into the unblinking eye. "Whatever his plans, Rhita Gawr will seek to worsen those horrors—for as they grow, so will his power. But as they shrink, so will his chances of conquest." Gravely, he nodded. "And so, Basilgarrad, will you join me in this quest? Will you be a true guardian of Avalon?"

  The green dragon's first thought was, Does he really need to ask? But he gave his answer in one word.

  "Yes," he bellowed. His thunderous voice echoed through the forest, shaking the trees with its force.

  "Excellent," answered Merlin after the reverberations died down.

  "Hhhwonderfull," added Aylah, flowing breezily among the boughs. Then she asked, "Hhhwhat do you knohhhw, Merlin, about his ancestry?"

  The wizard looked up into the waving boughs above his head, then back at Basilgarrad. "You are the only élanodragon ever, which explains why you started life looking different from any other dragon in history." He paused, measuring his words. "But that doesn't mean you don't have any kin."

  The enormous eyes widened.

  "Because your egg first appeared in Fincayra, on the River Unceasing, I would guess you are a direct descendant of the most powerful dragon who ever lived on that enchanted isle. His name was Valdearg—meaning Wings of Fire."

  Not bad, thought the young descendant of that dragon. His chest, already as big as a hillside, swelled some more. Not bad at all.

  "Which means," Merlin continued, "you are also related to Valdearg's only other surviving child. The dragon named Gwynnia."

  His chest squashed down like a popped pastry. "That irascible old fire fanny?" he protested. "She is my relative?"

  "Your sister, to be exact." Merlin did his best to hide his chuckles, though without much success.

  "Ahhh," added the wind sister playfully, "but the best part is all her hhhwell-behaved children! Since birth, they have only set fire to half of Stoneroot." She swooped closer, tickling the enormous ears. "Young as you are, you are nohhhw their hhhwise old uncle. You can teach them some hhhweighty lessons."

  "Starting with some manners," he declared. His eyes narrowed as he thought back to how one of those fledgling dragons—at that moment more than a hundred times his size—had attacked him at Merlin and Hallia's wedding. "It will be a pleasure to meet them again."

  "A pleasure for you," said Aylah, gusting with amusement. "But they might not feel the same hhhway."

  "Whatever relatives you might have," said Merlin, "you have your whole life ahead of you. And as a creature of great magic, it could be a long life indeed."

  Fingering some of the longer hairs on his beard, he twirled them into a tight knot. "Why, you could live for a thousand years or more!" His eyes, as dark as his hair, opened wide at a new thought. "It's even possible, I suppose, that you might someday meet my own descendents—the heirs to my magic."

  As soon as he spoke chose words, his face clouded and he said under his breath, "Which may not include my own son."

  Straightening his back, he walked up to Basilgarrad's prominent jaw. Rows upon rows of mighty teeth gleamed above him. Taking hold of the bottom end of his staff, he stretched up as high as he could reach, so that the top of the staff touched the dragon's lower lip. Firmly, he rapped three times on the lip—a blow that would have bruised any man, but that Basilgarrad barely felt.

  Wizards can be totally bizarre, Basilgarrad thought while this was happening.

  "There," announced Merlin, lowering his staff and holding it as he normally would. "Now, thanks to the magic of Ohnyalei, we are linked, you and I. You can call to me with your thoughts at any time, from any distance. And I can do the same."

  With a sly grin, he added, "So remember that now I can hear your thoughts . . . in case you ever feel like calling me totally bizarre."

  The dragon's brow immediately furrowed.

  "Don't worry," the wizard added. "I can't hear all your thoughts. Just the ones that pertain specifically to me. Such as any new adventures you might be planning for us. And I hope there will be many!"

  At that moment, a pungent odor drifted into the glade. The air reeked of decaying flesh mixed with vomit. Instantly recognizing the smell, the wizard's face went pale. Whirling around, he shouted a word he'd hoped never to use again.

  "Kreelix!"

  Planting his feet on the dry needles of the forest floor, he braced himself for another attack. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow, then slid down his temples. A look of pained regret on his face, he tossed his staff aside so that its magic would survive even if his own did not.

  From behind, he suddenly heard a deep rumble. He spun around again, and all at once realized that it wasn't the sound of a kreelix attacking—but a dragon laughing. The rumble grew into a great, rollicking roar as Basilgarrad lifted his mighty head and laughed so hard the ground trembled. Cones tumbled off the trees and branches swayed as the wind sister joined in. Soon, it seemed, the whole forest was sharing in the laugh. Except for the wizard.

  Merlin glanced nervously over his shoulder, then back at Basilgarrad. He sniffed the air, which was quickly r
eturning to the fresh scents of the forest. "You?" he demanded. "You made that smell?"

  "Why, yes," his huge companion replied, still mirthful. "Not so appealing as that honey smell I made for Shim, but just as effective." He chortled quietly, like a simmering pot of stew. "You may be able to hear all my plans, but it seems you can't hear all my pranks."

  Shaking his head, the wizard started to push his way into a thorny bramble to fetch his staff. "Why, dear Dagda, does a dragon need a sense of humor?"

  "Hhhwe all need humor," reminded Aylah, flying low enough to add the scent of cinnamon to the glade.

  "I suppose so," grumbled Merlin as he fought to extract the staff from its bed of thorns. "But . . . really!"

  "You cast spells," declared Basilgarrad. "And I cast smells. Seems only fair."

  Merlin's scowl finally melted away. "I suspect, my oversize friend, that our adventures have only just begun."

  The great dragon thumped his tail on the ground in approval. This jovial gesture caused tremors that rattled the forest for leagues around, sending deer galloping, squirrels scurrying, and birds flying.

  Taking his staff, Merlin spun it slowly in his hand. Then, peering up at the immense eye of Basilgarrad, he said quietly, "I am glad we have met, truly met, on this fateful day." He sighed. "And now, alas, I must go. There is some trouble brewing in Fireroot. Something about underground caverns, flaming jewels—and wrathful dragons."

  Basilgarrad cocked his tremendous head. His voice a resonant rumble, he asked, "Would you like a ride?"

  Merlin raised a bushy brow. "Are you fast?"

  "Not as fast as the wind . . . but I'll do my best."

  The wizard's whole face brightened. "Then I'd love to have a ride."

  Avalon's only élanodragon tilted his head so that his ear, itself taller than Merlin, flapped down on the ground with a spray of bark and needles. Quickly, the wizard clambered up. Holding tight to the edge of the ear, he managed to hang on as Basilgarrad straightened his head and lifted higher.

  Merlin stood atop the dragon's head, clasping the huge pointed ear. Now as tall as the trees, he looked out across the forested hills, surveying the richly layered landscape. In the distance, a flock of bright yellow butterflies, their wings shimmering like stars, settled on a dark green spruce. Nodding, he said, "I think I'm going to enjoy this view."