The Secret of Ashona (38 page)

I
T WAS EASY FOR
S
PARTACUS
to locate Connor in Alypium. He carried Erec under one of his arms, and Rosco flew alongside following them. Connor still worked at the pet store, but today he was practicing magic with his tutor in Paisley Park. Spartacus discreetly set Erec down behind a tree. Rosco followed him to where Connor was trying to levitate twigs with a remote control.

“Look—I lifted that butterfly!”

Connor’s tutor looked skeptical. “I think it was just flying away from you. Why don’t you work on that stone again?”

“Excuse me.” Erec smiled. “Connor, I’m Erec. We’ve seen each
other around a few times, but I’ve never really said hello.”

A look of recognition flashed across Connor’s face. “You’re that kid who likes to tell everyone that he’s Erec Rex, aren’t you? Well, I’d appreciate it if you stopped spreading those crazy rumors. I’m the real Erec Rex, not that anyone seems to believe me.”

Erec bubbled with excitement. This kid had to have his old memories. Otherwise he was completely crazy. But it wasn’t easy talking to him. “You know, I think I know what the problem is. I think you have some of my old memories. They’re confusing you, so you think you used to be me. If it’s okay, we can get rid of them. You’d probably be happier without them, and then I can have them back again.”

“What?” Connor looked exasperated. “Now that you know who the real Erec Rex is”—he pointed to himself—“you want to take all of my old memories? Do you think that will turn you into me? Go get a life.”

Erec had to take a deep breath. This kid was completely deluded. “You really think that you’re the real Erec Rex?”

Connor sighed. “I get so much flack about this from everyone. How could I expect you, of all people, to understand? But, yes. I am Erec Rex.”

“Don’t you see? You feel this way because of those memories I’m talking about. Once they’re out of you, then you can just be yourself again.”

Connor was having none of it. “Nice try, but it’s time for you to go away now.”

“Please! Just come with us. It won’t hurt at all.”

Connor’s black eyes flashed at Erec. “You don’t take a hint, do you? You are crazy. Everyone is right about you.” He pointed to himself. “You . . . you’re giving Erec Rex a bad name!”

Rosco stepped in. “Listen, boys. It’s okay. We’re not going to worry about this now. But Erec here is right.” He put a hand on Erec’s shoulder.
“You did have a memory implanted in your brain when you were young. And the reason we came to find you now is that it’s like a time bomb. It’s going to go off soon. If you don’t take it out then you’ll start to go crazy—soon. Just think it over, and we’ll check in with you later.”

As they walked away, Erec said, “Why don’t we just make him go to the Memory Mogul, and take my memory back, like it or not?”

“That won’t work. The Memory Mogul will not take out or put in any memory by force if someone doesn’t want it.”

“Isn’t there anyone else who could do it?”

“Baskania would be happy to, but then he would keep the memory, of course. I think we’re just going to have to convince Connor that he wants that memory out—that it’s starting to make him go nuts. . . . I have an idea.”

Erec and Rosco walked around the Agora waiting for Connor’s lesson to be finished. Spartacus went back to Baskania’s headquarters in Paris to hunt for anything that might be helpful in releasing the captured souls, since Erec wasn’t spending time there.

Erec spotted a candy shop he had been in once and remembered that they sold packets of chocolate rain from Cinnalim. Even though it would not be as fresh as the handfuls that Erec ate straight out of the Cinnalim sky, it still sounded good. He told Rosco he’d be back, and walked toward the shop. A tall man with a shaved head stepped in front of him, stopping him short.

The man’s voice growled, slow and angry. “You’re Erec Rex, aren’t you?” He rubbed his fist with his hand. “You’ve got a price on your head, boy. Even if it wasn’t for that, I’d love to put you in your place. You’ve done nothing but cause trouble in Alypium since you’ve been here. Telling lies, saying that you’re the true king. I’ve heard all about your antics. I’d be thrilled to rough you up a bit for that alone. But now . . .” A crooked grin spread over his face. “Now I can get me
some good money to hand you over to King Balor. There’s all kinds of rewards from him lately. Prizes for hunting down clowns, firing my crossbow into dragons’ caves, and the like. But this here is going to be the best reward of all.” He laughed. “Too bad for you, I can’t remember if you’re wanted dead or alive. I’m kinda thinking it might just be dead.”

Erec tensed. “Listen, you have it all wrong. I’m working with Baskania now—so I’m on your side. I’m on a mission for him, trying to find someone that he’s looking for. So I wouldn’t mess with me if I were you.” He stuck his shoulders back and tried to look tough.

The bald man laughed. “You think I’m falling for that? Do I look like I was born yesterday?” He reached behind him and . . .

Erec felt dizzy for a moment, and then everything turned green. Huge ropes of Substance filled the air around him. It had been a while since he had seen the world through dragon eyes.

Jump.

Erec sprang into the air, growing so fast that he ripped through his clothing. The man fired a flaming arrow out of a small weapon. It passed below his feet, just missing Erec. The man swung around, obviously well trained with weapons. He aimed upward this time, straight at Erec’s chest.

Dive and swing.

The next flaming arrow barely missed as Erec curved through the air. Now he hurtled back toward the ground, swerving at the last second to knock the man onto his side. A trained hunter, he rolled on the dirt. Two long shimmering poles extended from his shirt sleeves and into his hands. He aimed again.

Breathe fire.

Erec barely missed the man—on purpose. But the heat from the flames threw him off target. Small missiles shot from the rods and veered close to Erec’s face and side. The fire was enough to send the man scrambling away, but before he got far another crossbow resurfaced and fired. . . .

Dive-bomb.

Something big was coming. Erec did not know what it was, but even in dragon form he would never survive it if it was launched. He had to attack fast. Pummeling through the air, he butted his head straight into the man’s stomach. The bald man flew backward, the wind knocked out of him.

Erec walked slowly, morphing into his normal self again. He was afraid that the man would come after him, but instead he lay still, breathing slowly, hand over his stomach. People glared at Erec as he passed by as if he had done something horrible instead of just avoiding being shot. Someone threw a rock at him and it hit his neck, cutting into his skin.

Rosco watched from across the street. He tilted his head, signaling Erec to follow. They walked back to Paisley Park in silence.

After Connor finished with his tutor, he walked home. He passed through Paisley Park, and then onto a small street near the Agora. It was windy, and his white hair blew forward, whipping around his eyes. At first it was hard to hear, but when he listened carefully the wind was talking to him.

“Connor . . .” It tickled his ear. “This is your old memory speaking to you. I have come to haunt you. We will be together every day now. Let us dance!”

At this, the wind whipped Connor into the air, where he spun wildly. Connor looked at the ground, frantic. “Let me go! Stop!”

He fell to the earth hard, landing on his side. Connor winced, holding his hip.

Again, the wind whispered in his ear. “You don’t want to dance with me? Well, maybe we can go for a walk, then.”

Connor was scooped up and sailed forward, whizzing around corners and barely missing being hit on fence posts. He shook head to toe. “Put me down! Let go!”

At once he was thrown onto the dirt. “You don’t like to walk with me either?” The voice in his ear sounded threatening. “We’re not going to get along so well, then, you and I. I hope you like nightmares, because I’m going to give you those every night from now on. And in the daytime we’re going to dance all the time. Dance and walk . . . maybe talk about the old days, when you were Erec Rex.

“Do you think you’re going crazy? Is that it?” The voice paused, giving Connor time to wonder exactly that. “Well, maybe you are, then. Maybe we both are. It’s time to enjoy that, I think. Don’t you, Connor?”

“Stop!” Connor put his hands over his ears. “Go away!”

“But I can’t go away, Connor. I’m a part of you. We’re one, you and I. So from now on, it will be like this all of the time. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Rosco, invisible, was playing the part well. He extended the word “wonderful,” into a long, eerie, and theatrical grunt. He picked Connor up again and tossed him up and down in the air like a balloon.

Erec was watching from behind the corner of a cloud cream shop. He laughed at Rosco’s antics, but then he felt strange inside. Bubbly. Then, shooting what seemed like miles downward within a second, he crashed into the ground.

Everything became dark. He tried to run for protection, but nothing happened. He was a worm again—he remembered the
feeling well. But he was outside now, exposed like a piece of steak on the plate of a giant. He couldn’t move . . . there were no legs. So he stretched himself forward.

How could this have happened so soon? His back parts were still flattened, and it was hard to drag them behind the rest of him. He had to get off of the sidewalk—keep moving until he felt grass underneath him. Even then, anybody might step on him, and that would be the end for him.

Why had he thought of a worm, of all things, when he was using the morphing spell? It would have been so much better if he had become a horse or an eagle. The thought of birds flying by gave him the chills. He knew he looked like a tasty morsel. . . .

Footsteps pounded around him. Erec clenched, tried to move out of the way. Luckily they passed without crushing him. If only he could call for help! Or if he could control his morphing and become something else before it was too late.

Something scratched the sidewalk next to him, then scraped it again. “Well, well. Look what we have here. The perfect lunch.” It was close, just inches away. And even though he understood its words, the sounds were definitely not human. In fact, he was sure that they were bird chirps.

A sharp thing pinched around his middle, and he lifted into the air. He was going to become bird food! After all he had been though, how could it end like this? To die as a worm? His front and damaged rear half of his body hung limply as he bounced higher into the wind. The beak cinched tighter around his middle.

What was that word from the spell book that would change him into something else? Maybe thinking it would help.
Nee-way.

He expanded, the bird’s beak clamping shut through him as if he were not there. Erec floated with ease, looking down at Rosco and Connor. Spartacus was back now, and he was looking around for
Erec.
Poor Spartacus.
Erec was driven toward him, ready to become his soul. . . .

No.
That was not why he was here. He had to become himself again, get his memory back. For now he would follow Connor and watch what happened.

Connor was running home. Rosco floated alongside of him, invisible, whispering “That’s right. Run! Run!” in his ear. Spartacus was following, searching everywhere for Erec. Erec floated along, undetected.

They all entered Connor’s house with him—Rosco still invisible and Erec still a soul. That’s when Spartacus saw Erec. Relived, he joined in with Rosco’s game, and picked up oranges and an apple. He juggled them until Connor’s mother walked in.

“Well,” she said. “Look at you! I’m glad to see you’re finally picking up some magic now. Claiming that you’re really King Piter’s son was sounding pretty silly when you couldn’t even make a leaf move.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh.” Connor’s face was white. “I-I’m not feeling well, Mom.”

“Well, go lie down, then. Get the door first, will you?”

Rosco had flown around and knocked on Connor’s door, and now was visible again. The boy answered, trembling.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Rosco said. “I found out that you got a bum memory a long time ago. We’re trying to recall all of them before they cause permanent damage to their owners. You can’t imagine how bad off some of those people are—I’d like to remove your problem before it gets worse.”

“Okay!” Connor nodded, arms wrapped tightly around himself. “Let’s do it now. I’m ready—anytime.”

“Good kid.” Rosco patted his head. “No time like the present, then.” He snapped his fingers, and Connor and he disappeared.

Spartacus nodded for Erec to come outside, then asked him, “Why . . . how did you become a soul again?”

It was hard for Erec to put anything into words in this form. It was time to try changing again. . . .
Nee-way.

And there he stood, his old, normal self. Spartacus stared at him in amazement. Then he grabbed Erec’s shoulder and jumped into the air. . . . Moments later they were landing at the Memory Mogul’s shop.