Hurriedly, Shanhaevel shuffled backward, keeping the shield raised and cutting off his sight from the beast. He turned around and took a few steps toward the rest of the group, lowering the shield as he did so in order to speak.
“It’s a basilisk,” the wizard said quietly. “Its gaze can turn a man to stone. I read about one once, long ago. If it comes around the corner, don’t look at its face!”
The group tensed and waited for a few moments, but the basilisk did not appear. Puzzled, Shanhaevel tried to recall everything he knew about the fabled basilisk. Finally, he said, “Just stay here and wait.”
“What are you going to do?” Govin asked.
“I’m going to try to destroy it,” the wizard replied, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. “I still have some magic left, even after the fight above.”
“Be careful,” Shirral growled, flashing her icy blue eyes at him in warning.
Shanhaevel nodded, swallowed, and turned to cautiously advance toward the corner once more. None of this made any sense to him, though. Why would the creature be down here? How did it get here? He remembered that a basilisk’s gaze reflected back at the monster could turn the creature to stone, but he was pretty certain none of the companions had anything even faintly resembling a mirror. Shaking his head, he reached the corner and, using Ahleage’s frozen form as cover, began a spell.
Staying behind Ahleage’s petrified form and keeping Govin’s shield between himself and the beast, Shanhaevel leveled his free arm in the direction of the basilisk and uttered the final phrases of the spell. Instantly, he felt the magic forces slide through his arm, erupting as a stroke of lightning. Shanhaevel watched as his magic bolt flashed, spanning the length of the hallway between him and the far wall, where the flaming fountain still burned. The lightning fully engulfed the body of the beast as it crouched in front of the elf—and passed right through it.
Shanhaevel barely heard the surprised shouts of his companions behind him. The basilisk, apparently unscathed by the attack, continued to stand, hissing and shifting almost exactly as it had before.
“What in the hells are you doing?” Shirral cried.
Shanhaevel didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Even though the magic he had mustered into the lightning bolt wasn’t on the same level as Lanithaine’s, he was certain the beast should have been affected somewhat.
Perhaps the basilisk is immune to electrical magic, the wizard thought. Then let’s try a little fire.
Setting the shield down—but still careful not to look at the monster’s face—Shanhaevel mustered the magic of one of his familiar, reliable spells. From his spread fingertips, he sent a sheet of flame cascading across the body of the basilisk.
Nothing happened. The basilisk didn’t react in the slightest and seemed completely unharmed by the wizard’s attack. Shanhaevel, shaking his head, stepped back out of the way and thought. Behind him, Govin took a few steps forward.
“What in the hells is going on?” the knight asked insistently. “Is it dead?”
“No,” Shanhaevel replied, his tone revealing his frustration. “It isn’t even singed, so far. I have one more idea. Wait.”
With that, Shanhaevel drew upon another reserve of magical energy, channeling the mystical forces and shaping them into the spell he desired. He stepped from around the corner and pointed his finger at the basilisk’s flank, firing off two green missiles that he knew would fly unerringly at the beast and strike true. Only they didn’t. The first shot straight ahead, but rather than striking the beast, it seemed to pass right through and hit the far wall, and the second missile sputtered and fizzled, flying haphazardly off to one side.
“Damn,” Shanhaevel said in disbelief. “It’s like it’s just not there!” Then realization hit him. “Of course!” he said, snapping his fingers. “It’s not! It’s an illusion!”
With that, the creature faded from view.
“What are you muttering?” Govin asked, still standing behind the wizard.
Shanhaevel laughed. It all made sense! The creature was an illusion, which explained why it was down here in the first place, why it didn’t come around the corner to attack the group in hiding, and why none of the wizards spells had had any effect on it.
“It’s all right,” Shanhaevel said, picking up Govin’s shield and then turning to face his companions. “It’s not really there. It’s illusory magic. As long as you are really convinced it isn’t real, it will just disappear. But you have to—”
“Shanhaevel, look out!” Elmo shouted, bringing his bow up and drawing an arrow to his cheek in one smooth motion.
Shanhaevel spun around, acting before he realized that perhaps he had been wrong and that the basilisk had merely disappeared, reappearing directly behind him. But what he gazed on as he turned was not the magical beast, but an elf, a woman, smiling at him as she thrust a sword directly at his midsection.
Gasping in surprise, Shanhaevel swung the knight’s shield up, not enough to block the blow, but enough to force the killing stab aside so that it sliced into his side, grazing his ribs rather than plunging into his heart. He felt liquid warmth on his side and a sharp, stinging pain as he stumbled away from his attacker.
At the same instant, an arrow buried itself in the elf woman’s shoulder. She growled in anger and vanished. Shirral cried out, and Shanhaevel heard bowfire from behind him as two more arrows streaked across his field of vision and vanished in mid-air. The wizard heard a pained grunt from in front him as his own back hit the wall and he slid down, his entire side slick with blood now.
Govin raised his sword high and swung at the spot where the wizard’s attacker had been. His blade passed through air. Reaching down and taking hold of the shield in Shanhaevel’s hands, Govin lifted it from the elf’s grasp and stepped forward in a defensive crouch. Deftly he swung his blade from side to side.
“Careful!” Shanhaevel croaked, trying to warn Govin. “If you don’t believe the beast is false, it will still turn you to stone!”
Then Shirral was beside Shanhaevel as Elmo and Draga ran past, weapons in hand, to join Govin. The druid took the wizard by the shoulders and dragged him backward, away from the fight. Pain shot through Shanhaevel’s side.
Shirral released Shanhaevel and let him sink to the ground as she dug through one of her satchels. “Here,” she said, removing one of the vials the group had recovered from the chest in the tower, “drink this.” She held the small bottle toward his mouth. He opened his mouth and swallowed the thick liquid as Shirral poured it down his throat. It tasted of cinnamon and ash.
As the potion settled in his stomach, Shanhaevel felt a tingling throughout his body. It seemed to start everywhere, but as it grew stronger, it coalesced near his injury, until he could feel the rent flesh knitting together, being made whole again. In a moment, Shanhaevel felt free of pain. He gazed down at his side, seeing pink scar tissue peeking through the cut in his black shirt. He stood, feeling clear-headed once more.
Shirral was already on her feet, moving close to Ahleage.
“Careful!” Shanhaevel called as he moved beside her. “It’s not real, but you really have to believe it.”
Shirral nodded but kept her focus on the hunt. Beyond the druid, Govin, Elmo, and Draga were all moving slowly, cautiously, trying to find Shanhaevel’s invisible attacker.
As Shanhaevel picked up his staff, he realized he was almost spent. A substantial portion of his energy had been exhausted in the battle at the farmhouse, and now, after using even more spells dealing with the basilisk that wasn’t there, he wondered if that hadn’t been the intention all along. The basilisk was placed there to drain our resources, he thought. She—and anyone else down here—wanted to wear us down before attacking.