The Secret of Ashona (39 page)

“Ouch!” Erec banged hard against the outside wall of the shop when Spartacus sailed him into it.

“Sorry. Oh, wow, I can’t believe I did that. I completely forgot that you can’t go through the wall with me.”

Erec dusted himself off and walked in through the door. It was just as he remembered it: A long counter stretched across the room, and behind it rows of shelving hung on the walls. Each shelf was covered with tiny packets—memory chips that had been removed from countless visitors. A man leaned over the counter—the Memory Mogul—his white hair and beard standing on end all over his face like a puffy dandelion gone to seed.

Erec remembered how hard it had been to talk to the man. He had tried out so many other people’s memories that his own memory was completely shot.

Connor looked nervous. “C-can you please take out an old memory that you put in me once? It’s turned bad. Very bad.”

The Memory Mogul chuckled. “An old memory, huh? Yes, I’ve seen quite a few of those in my day. Some of them do get tired after a while. I understand what you’re saying. Reminds me of one time when I was using a certain memory here quite a bit—I almost forgot who I was for a while after that.” He smiled fondly. “So . . . what is it that brings you here today?”

Erec waited at the back of the shop. If Connor was doing this willingly, he didn’t want to interfere. But he began to brim with excitement about getting his lost memory back again.

“I need my memory out. The one that you put in me a long time ago.” He thumbed at Rosco. “This guy says it was Erec Rex’s old memory, but I still think that bit is really my own. Whatever you put in, just take out, though. Okay?”

The Memory Mogul’s eyes glazed over and a smile lit his lips. “Erec Rex, you say? I still remember the day that I got the memory of Erec Rex. And I do admit my memory isn’t exactly what it once was.” He mused in silence a moment, then looked at Connor. “Can I help you?”

Connor looked at Rosco, frustrated. Rosco gestured toward the Memory Mogul with a smile.

“Take out the memory you once gave me.”

“Memory? Do you remember what that memory was?”

“It might have been the memory of Erec Rex, but I’m not sure. . . .”

“Ah, Erec Rex. I still remember the day that he came in here, with his mother, that girl child, and a baby. What a day that was—I’ve played it over in my head plenty of times. I even tried out his memory a bunch of times. Shame I can’t recall much about it anymore.”

Connor looked surprised. “I do remember coming here to get my memory out—but it never made sense because I still had the memory even after it was supposed to be gone.” He thought a while. “Could it really be someone else’s memory then? Erec Rex’s memory?” He looked sick. “All of my life I thought it was really me. Why would my parents give me someone else’s memory?”

“I don’t know.” The Memory Mogul’s hair waved back and forth in the air like thousands of white antennae. “Probably something bad happened to you that they wanted you to forget. Maybe you lost a sibling, or a close friend.”

“That’s awful. Can I get my original memory back again?”

“I suppose I could look for it. What’s your name?”

“Connor Flannigan.”

The Memory Mogul flipped through an ancient ledger and slapped a hand on a page. “Aha! Here you are. Connor Flannigan. Lucky for you, it’s still here after all this time. Looks like nobody wanted this one. . . .” He searched on a high shelf and pulled a dusty packet off, reading his notes underneath it. “Oh, I see. Well, that explains it. Are you sure you want this back? It’s not pleasant, I’m afraid.”

“I do.” Connor looked brave.

“Well, it’s up to you. But I warned you—it’s not a nice memory.” He walked to the counter and leaned over, blinking at Connor and Rosco as if he had never seen or spoken to them before. “What can I do for you boys today?”

Rosco tapped the packet that was in the Memory Mogul’s hand. “Take out the memory that you gave this boy, and put this old one of his back in.”

“Okay. Okay. Lean forward, young man. Now sip this.” He produced a small vial of pink liquid from a dusty shelf. Connor drank it and immediately fell face-first onto the counter. “Let’s see what we have here, now.” The Memory Mogul pulled a few rusty tools out and laid them next to Connor’s head. Erec was horrified—what was he going to do with those?

The Memory Mogul inserted a long metal probe into Connor’s ear. He shoved it in farther and farther until Erec was sure it must have been sticking into the center of his brain. It didn’t seem like Connor would ever live through this. Then the Memory Mogul looked into the end of the probe as if it were some kind of scope. “Hmmm. Very interesting. It looks like there
is
a memory I put in there; must have been a long time ago looking at the technique.” He looked up at Rosco, brow knit. “Do you think he wants that memory removed, then?”

“Sure does.”

“All right. Let’s take that specimen out of there.” Another long metal contraption fit into the first one. The Memory Mogul inserted it carefully, frowning and eyeing the level of the two instruments. Right when he seemed happy with its position, he took a hammer and smashed both of them hard, deep into Connor’s head.

Erec gasped. “No! What are you doing?”

“It’s okay.” Rosco held a hand up. “This guy knows his stuff.”

Erec sure hoped so. It was not looking so good to him. The Memory Mogul grinned at Erec. “All in a day’s work, boy. Don’t interrupt the expert, now.” He then picked up Connor’s head and proceeded to smash it three times—hard—against the counter.

Conner remained asleep, luckily. Erec had no idea removing a memory would be so awful. Small bits of the metal rods now extended from both of Connor’s ears—he was completely impaled. The Memory Mogul poured some kind of oil through the hole in his ear. Erec could hear it make a
glug, glug
sound as it seeped in. He lifted Connor off of the counter and the oil dripped out his other ear onto the table. Then the Memory Mogul took out a small hand blender and began to push it into Connor’s head.

“Stop!” Erec ran over. “What are you doing—trying to kill him? We just need to get his memory out, not mix his brain up!”

“Boy!” The Memory Mogul looked annoyed. “Let me do my job. I’ve done this countless times. If you must know, I need to loosen the frenulum of the amygdala—a spot I myself discovered from which memory chips may be held and activated. This is standard procedure. Now stand back.” He shoved hard and the blender entered Connor’s ear.

It seemed there was no possible way that the Memory Mogul could have been exact about the area he was blending. Erec shuddered, wondering what was going to happen. When the Memory Mogul pulled
the blender out, dripping with the dark oil, Erec almost threw up.

“Here it is!” The Memory Mogul lifted Connor’s head and pulled a small thing out that looked like a wet potato chip. “The memory. Good as new. I wonder if this boy wanted another memory in there to take its place. . . .”

“He does.” Rosco tapped the other chip on the counter with Connor’s name on it. “This was the one you took out for him.”

“Oh. Of course.” The Memory Mogul placed the chip on Connor’s ear and blew lightly. It sailed easily into his head and disappeared. “Time to wakey-wakey.” He shook Connor’s shoulder.

Miraculously, the boy awoke. “Huh? What . . . I have a different memory now! I’m
not
Erec Rex.” He turned to Erec. “You are. It wasn’t my memory. I’m sure of that now.” Then his face grew glum. “I had a sister.” He sat on the floor, saying nothing else.

Erec eyed the chip containing his own memory that was sitting on the counter. “Can I have that, please?” He hoped that inserting it would not be as horrifying as removing a memory had been.

The Memory Mogul smiled pleasantly. “May I help you?”

“Yes. I’d like this memory, right here.”

“Have you paid me yet, boy?”

“Um, no. How much is it?”

Rosco put three gold ring coins on the table, and the Memory Mogul lit up with delight. “Wonderful! Now, what can I do for you, sir?”

“Put this memory in that boy.”

The Memory Mogul placed the wet chip on Erec’s ear and blew it in. . . .

It had been a terrible day. His mother was busy, and she didn’t see Erec and his brother and sister even once. June was playing with them, and she was always nice. But his brother tried to take Erec’s favorite truck and
they got in a fight. Then he didn’t get as much ice cream as everyone else for dessert, and nobody even listened to him when he told them about it.

Erec was three and a half, and he was a big boy now. He got to sleep in a big bed all by himself in the nursery, and even had his own cup of water on his nightstand. But the best thing of all was getting to sit on his father’s throne. Daddy said that Erec would get to be king of Alypium when he grew up, and he could not wait. . . .

Erec was little, in a stroller that fit three babies. It was sailing through the air over the Agora, pulled by a winged horse. June rode in a small carriage that bounced along behind them.

The Hermit was in the playroom again, and he was so silly. Erec always laughed when he did his dances. And the Hermit was the only grown-up who always made sense. Today he told Erec “Fun is for having. It is the one thing that is there forever.” Erec agreed.

Erec tried not to react to all of the memories rushing through his mind. There was so much he never knew—that he had forgotten. His triplet brother and sister had shared so much with him: playing silly games, fighting, those names they had all made up for themselves.

Their names! He remembered them now. Princess Pretty Pony—her name was Elizabeth! And his brother, Prince Muck Muck. He was Edward. That’s right: Erec, Elizabeth, and Edward. The three next rulers of the Kingdoms of the Keepers. Erec would be the future king of Alypium, Elizabeth would be queen of Ashona, and Edward the king of Aorth.

It was as clear as yesterday. They used to talk about it all of the time. Elizabeth had a special way in the water, he remembered that, too. But all of the details weren’t there. Some parts were clearer than others.

Rosco returned Connor to his house and came back to meet Erec in front of the shop. “You look dazed. Are you okay?”

Erec nodded. “It’s just weird, remembering everything. My brother and sister . . . I miss them now. A lot. I really need to find them. It’s been hard doing all of these quests alone. I want to get to know them again, and catch up for lost time.”

While they were in Alypium, Rosco and Erec each got a nectar fizz sundae from a cloud cream shop. Then they returned to Rosco’s apartment at the snap of his fingers, Spartacus following close behind. Erec told Rosco how he changed into a worm and almost got eaten. “But at least I figured out how to change myself when it happens.”

Rosco whistled. “You’d better be careful. If that happens at the wrong time, you’re a goner.”

That night, Erec could do nothing but sit on Rosco’s couch hugging a pillow to his chest. It had been too much—changing into a worm and almost being eaten, then having a world of memories put back into his head. Before he had his old memories back he was sure he would do nothing but delve into them and learn as much as he could. But instead, the old times that he had lost just made him feel bad. He wanted his family back again, the way it once had been. Of course he would try out those memories again soon, but not this minute.

Right now, Erec was overwhelmed. Tarvos was building an army of Golems, and Erec had given him the key to command them. Baskania would take Erec’s dragon eyes away from him at any minute. Erec saw himself giving his scepter to Baskania, and he was on a path to becoming evil and killing Trevor. Erec had to find Bethany’s brother before Baskania did. And on top of everything, three thousand souls were still held captive—and trying to save them might not end well.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
A Talisman from a Living Foe

D
ISTRACTING HIMSELF
from his problems, Erec flipped through the spell book that Baskania had given him. The time-stopping spell on page four hundred twenty-two was interesting: