The Secret of Ashona (45 page)

“What? Spartacus—I’m thirsty too.”

Ward stopped spitting sand and turned to look at Erec. “Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody. Just myself.”

“Whatever.” Ward immediately focused on the glass of water. “Whoa.” He reached for it.

“Save some for me,” Erec said, afraid it would be gone in a second.

Spartacus sounded annoyed. “Erec, that’s not regular water. It’s the glass you sipped from when you were a spider. You know, from the River Lethe. It will wipe Ward’s memory clean, just like a newborn baby.”

“Unh—” Erec reached for the glass, now thinking about knocking it out of Ward’s hand to protect him—even though the water looked amazing. Ward must have thought Erec was trying to take it from him, so he brought it straight to his lips and took a big sip.

Spartacus pushed Erec away. “Let him drink it all. He heard everything you said in there, remember? All about how you got your old memory back from Connor Flannigan. And he saw you take the Master Shem and both of Tarvos’s horns, too. In the other horn you have all of Tarvos’s magical powers. Don’t you think Baskania would want to know all of that?”

Erec was glad that Spartacus could read his mind.
Why couldn’t you just have told me what Ward was thinking? Maybe he wasn’t going to spill the beans to Baskania. I mean, we saved his life. You’d think he would have kept a secret for me.

“Who knows. I couldn’t have followed him around forever to make sure he didn’t say anything. Now we’re safe.”

Ward had obviously forgotten to share the water with Erec, not that Erec wanted it. “I want some more. Where is more water?”

Erec looked Ward over carefully, wondering if the drink had taken effect yet. At least it wouldn’t harm him. In fact, since Baskania
was putting Ward in so many dangerous situations, maybe forgetting everything would help him. Ward wouldn’t even know to go back to Baskania again. Erec could find him a safe home somewhere. . . .

Ward dropped the empty glass in the sand and looked at Erec with wonder. “Who are you? Where are we?” Then he scanned his environment. “It’s so hot here.”

“It’s okay. My name is Erec, and we’re in a big desert in the Underworld. It’s time to go home now, okay?”

“Good. I’m hot.” Ward frowned. “Where is my home? I can’t remember where I live.”

“You live in Alypium. Don’t worry, I’ll find it for you.”

“All right.” Ward looked contented. “Let’s go now. I don’t like this place.”

Spartacus picked the boys up and flew over the desert until the landscape changed to dark marshes and mists. It wasn’t until they reached the River Styx that Erec remembered the problem about the gold coin. If only he had kept one when he crossed the first time, he would have no problem getting back again.

“Do you have any gold coins on you?” he asked Ward.

Ward fished in his pockets. “I don’t have anything.”

Spartacus set them on the shore. Gray spirits drifted through the white mists, and the smell of sulfur filled the dark air. “I don’t know what to do. There is no way I can get either of you back through that atmosphere. It must have been designed to keep people from crossing by themselves.”

In the distance, a figure approached from across the water. As it grew closer, Erec could see that it was the boatman who had taken him across before. Maybe he would know what to do—although he had been far from helpful the first time.

The raft of bound-together logs washed ashore. Fingers that looked like little white worms wiggled around the edges, making Erec shudder. The boatman’s worn canvas hood was pulled over his
head. Bits of skull and cheekbone showed though his sloughing skin and grizzled black beard. “Welcome to the Underworld,” he said again, drawing out his vowels and sounding just as loony.

“Thanks.” Erec nodded, trying not to stare at his protruding hollow eyes. “We need to get back across. . . .”

“I need payment to take ye.” The boatman pounded his stick onto the beach.

“A gold coin?” Erec asked.

“Yup.” He giggled. “Or ye’ll be stuck here forever, mate. Is that wha’s going to happen?”

Erec tried not to get angry. “Is there anything else I can pay you with?”

The boatman scratched his chin, thinking. “I suppose I could take this boy’s spirit.” He motioned at Ward. “Ye can leave ’im with me as payment.”

Ward pointed to himself, questioning. “Me?”

The boatman nodded. “Deal?”

“No deal!” Erec was disgusted. “We both need to cross. Is there anything else you’ll accept?”

“Nope. Just a gold coin.” The boatman grinned.

Spartacus stuck his hands into the boatman’s pockets, searching for coins, but all he pulled out were worms and dirt. The boatman giggled.

Erec sighed. “Can you tell us where we can find a gold coin in the Underworld? Because we have to get home.”

“There is a place. . . .” The boatman looked into the distance. “Not a very nice place, but a place, nonetheless.”

“Yes? Where is it?”

“There is a Carnival of Darkness up in the Dunes of Distress. Ye might be able to win yerself a coin there, if yer lucky.”

The Dunes of Distress. Not exactly the name of a dream vacation spot. But Erec had to play the odds in the Carnival of Darkness if he wanted to see his home again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Carnival of Darkness

E
REC WAS AGAIN THANKFUL
that he was traveling with a spirit who was able to find his way practically anywhere. He was carried with ease by Spartacus, along with Ward, over hills that looked like slimy oil slicks, then above a flat terrain with the appearance of gelatinous globs of goo.

“I hope we don’t have to land in that stuff,” Erec said.

Before long, they flew over dunes of black sand. Unlike the desert they had just been in, it was freezing cold. Spartacus set them
in front of a massive red tent. The boys shivered, looking at the tall red velvet curtains in awe. Before them was a twinkling sign lit with colorful lights, saying:

WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO THE CARNIVAL OF DARKNESS. STEP RIGHT IN AND TRY YOUR LUCK!

“Try your luck at what?” Erec said.

A skeletally thin man with a pencil mustache and long pointed beard stepped around the curtain. He wore a black stovepipe hat that was over a foot tall, with a red ribbon tied around its base.

“Why, try your luck at luck, my friend. Are you here to play? Because we have some glorious prizes in store for you!” He ushered them into the tent.

It was warm inside, and good smells filled the air. The room was dark, as its name suggested, but of all of the places in the Underworld, this seemed the best by far. Popcorn stands mingled with fried dough booths, and carnival games were everywhere. A huge, brightly lit Ferris wheel spun at one end of the tent, and a carousel with cheerful music echoed from its center. People were laughing and talking. . . . Erec realized that this was the first time he had actually seen people in the Underworld. Maybe this was where they all hung out. He didn’t blame them.

“Wow.” Ward looked around slowly. “This is nice. Is this my home?”

“I don’t think we should stay long,” Spartacus said. “Something is fishy about this place.”

Erec didn’t have that feeling at all. In fact, he was hungry. “Let’s get a snack first. I haven’t eaten in forever!”

He walked up to a brightly colored booth with racks of pizza under warming lights. It smelled heavenly. “How much for a piece?” Erec realized that he had no money at all.

“One gold coin.” A bald man working behind the counter smiled. “Would you like a piece?”

“Yes!” Ward said. The man began to hand him a dripping slice. . . .

But Erec realized that it might be a trick. He shouted over the crowd, “No! Put it back. We have no money to pay you.”

“You could owe me.” The man winked. “It’s no problem.”

“Okay.” Ward put his hand out.

“No.” Erec pulled Ward’s arm away before the pizza touched it. “We can’t.” He dragged Ward from the booth, against his protests. If they were lucky enough to earn a gold coin, the last thing he needed was for this man to take it away because they owed him for pizza.

“Good thinking,” Spartacus said. “Let’s see if we can earn some change.”

People walked by, eating snow cones and slurping sodas. They seemed to be having a great time. But when Erec took a closer look at them, he jumped with fear. Their eyes burned glowing red, like fiery coals, and their teeth were sharp and pointed. It was obvious that they were not human at all. . . .

Spartacus noticed them as he heard Erec’s thoughts. “They are undead. Living, but without souls or spirits. Kind of like zombies, but these seem more controlled, like something is animating them. I can tell you there is only one thing that all of them are thinking, though, now that I’m paying attention to it.”

“What’s that?” Erec wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear it.

“You don’t want to know,” Spartacus agreed. “Should I tell you anyway?”

Erec nodded.

“They are hungry. And they all hope that you mess up so they can feast on both of you.”

Chills went through Erec. This place no longer looked carefree and fun. He inched closer to Spartacus as they walked, trying not to look at the burning eyes of the ravenous undead around them.

Ward seemed not to notice, however. He focused on the food
that was everywhere. “I want that.” He pointed to the cotton candy. “And that.” He motioned at the huge salted soft pretzels hanging from a string nearby.

Erec took him by the shoulders. “Promise me something, Ward. This is very important to remember. You can’t eat anything here, okay? I’ll get you whatever you want when we get home again. But right now, don’t touch the food.”

Ward shrugged. “All right.” Erec decided that he had better keep a good eye on him, anyway.

The huge tent made the carnival look even darker than it was outside. Tiny lights twinkled at the roof, giving the appearance of stars. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the horrifying people inside. They walked by the Ferris wheel which was spinning extra fast, its riders screaming.

Something yanked Erec around the middle. He shot backward, stumbling, from the pulling around his waist, arms reaching toward Spartacus. “Help!”

A man with a tall stovepipe hat, like the one who let them into the tent, removed his large curved cane handle from around Erec’s midsection and winked. At least his eyes weren’t bright red, Erec thought. But he was terrifying nonetheless—probably just because he seemed so happy here. The man gestured to the Ferris wheel. “Step right up, boy. Are you game to try something new? How about a fantabulous ride on our Wheel of Fortune? Nothing like it anywhere else, I assure you.”

For the first time, Erec noticed two huge black arrows, one long and one shorter, built into the side of the Ferris wheel. They both were hinged at the center and spun at the same time the wheel did, but the small one went in the opposite direction of the large one. It gave the appearance of a crazy clock with its hour and minute hands whirling the wrong ways.

As the ride slowed, the arrows did as well. Soon they all stopped. Lights turned on, blinking along the edges of the long arrow. It pointed at one of the cars with passengers in it that had been whizzing around a moment ago, and that car lit up as well. The two people—a man and a woman, if you could call them that—inside of the car looked excited, and began jumping up and down, rocking the small car precipitously.

The smaller arrow had stopped as well, and now it was pointing to some words printed along the side of the ride. A stream of red lights turned on along the smaller arrow, and then the words lit up as well.

BURN
.

Erec was fascinated. There had to be some meaning to this, he was sure. The people in the small car looked excited. Would they get something as a prize?

But, instead of a prize, streams of flame shot out of the seats that the figures sat in. Erec could see them well—they were not high up—and they were soon engulfed in fire. There was a smell of burning flesh. Amazingly, the two people in the basket continued to cheer and dance around, although Erec wondered if they were actually struggling to escape.