The Secret of Ashona (47 page)

Erec did as he was told. When he had been a spirit, he had been able to hold on to the Substance with every bit of his being, and tie all of it together into a tight web. But even as a human, Erec found
that he could grip some of it. Not with his hands, or every bit of him as he had before. It was more with his mind, his concentration.

Was this what Baskania was like with the Substance? Able to move it at will? As Erec pulled, yanking and twisting it into knots, he could feel its resistance.

Speak to it.

Of course. That made complete sense. He was making the Substance do something against its will. The least he could do, as he had done before, was to ask its permission.

Substance,
he thought,
I need your help. I have to spin you into a web so that I can get out of here alive. I think it’s the only way Ward and I will make it back. I’m sorry that I have to do this.

It was as if the Substance heard him and agreed, for in a moment it was helping him. If before he had been able to pull and twist it into tangles, now it was grasping him and forming itself into a full web. With his dragon eyes out, Erec could see the thick ropes of it knit together, surrounding the zombielike creatures in the tent.

The only problem was that the creatures did not seem held back by the Substance Web at all. They had been batted away by Erec’s tough, scaled arms and legs as he spun, but otherwise they flew freely. Erec could not see Spartacus or Ward, and called out for them. . . .

Spartacus shouted back, “We’re okay. It’s not easy, but I’m keeping Ward away from these guys so far. Where did you go?”

Erec flew toward the voice.

Dive and spin.

He did as commanded, whirling and throwing off attackers in mid-air. They were all teeth and glowing eyes, the rest of them became a blur. . . .

Spartacus was in front of him now, holding Ward in his arms like a rag doll. He was full of cuts and gashes, but he was breathing. The moment that Spartacus and Erec saw each other, they soared together toward the door of the tent.

Once they reached the opening, the Substance Web took effect. It contracted, pulling back. The bodies of the creatures were not held by it, in fact many still ran or flew after Erec and Ward. But, with his dragon eyes, Erec could see that the lights in the insides of the creatures were whisked right out of them. The red in their eyes disappeared as the living parts of their beings were yanked away from their bodies.

Some of the figures dropped, some ran on, confused, until they hit a wall. Others fell upon one another, attacking.

Spartacus glanced back at them, mystified, then he smiled. “I never would have thought of a Substance Web. Good idea.”

“I was just following directions. Hopefully now we can get out of here!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
One Gold Coin

I
T WASN’T LONG
before the three were back at the shores of the River Styx. Erec was relieved. Finally he would get out of here! This place was horrid. He still had the Master Shem and Tarvos’s power source in their horns in his pockets, and he was finally starting to feel victorious.

The boatman approached, a dark figure on the waters. When the raft slid ashore, he winked at Erec from under his frayed canvas hood. “Welcome to the Underworld.”

Couldn’t the crazy loon find a better thing to say? They had
already been here awhile. The guy needed to develop a vocabulary, Erec thought.

“We need a ride across the river,” Erec said. “We have a gold coin now.”

The boatman nodded. Erec stepped aboard the raft. Spartacus lifted the still drooping Ward on board and set him in the one chair strapped onto the wooden logs. Erec sat at the base of the chair. He would have to be careful not to let the waters that lapped onto the raft get on him.

But the boatman held a hand up in the air. “Only one may ride.”

Erec’s eyes met Spartacus’s. What was he hearing? This could not be happening. The boatman had made it sound like they needed only one coin to get back. There was no way they would ever escape if they needed another one.

“No, really. It’s okay. I don’t need a chair. We only have one gold coin, so we’ll just share the ride.”

The boatman did not move. Erec thought, in fact, he looked gleeful under his thick, scruffy beard. “Only one may ride.”

“Well, what should we do, then?” Erec began to feel angry. “I overpaid you once. We went out and got a third coin, just to pay you again. There is no way that we can get another one. Can’t you give us a break?”

The boatman didn’t answer, just stood still. It was obvious that nothing was going to make him move with two people on his boat.

Spartacus grabbed the boatman’s stick and gave it a push into the mud. Erec filled with excitement, thinking they were finally saved . . . but no matter what the ghost tried, the raft would not budge. What were they supposed to do? Leave Ward here, clueless and unaware, to wander in the Underworld until he died of thirst, or something worse? Maybe they could just leave him here a short while, then come back with more coins—enough to safely get both of them out.

“That sounds good,” Spartacus said. “But look.” He pointed,
and in the distance three shadowy night panthers approached, fangs bared. “I could stay with Ward to protect him, but if you go, there is no way you’ll ever find your way back alone.”

“So what do we do?” Erec was pacing now, keeping an eye on the night panthers. “Maybe leave me here with them and you can take Ward back. At least I might turn into a dragon and defend myself.”

The idea of being left alone in the Underworld sounded awful. But it seemed like the only possibility.

“Bad idea.” Spartacus shook his head. “You’re not invincible. And who knows how long it will take us to get back, or if something will happen to us? What if I’m called by Baskania and have to serve in his army? I won’t be able to resist that—you remember that pill? You’d be stuck here forever.”

Erec shuddered. He knew Spartacus was right. It seemed hopeless. He climbed off of the raft and left Ward alone there, but Spartacus did not drop the coin into the mouth of the waiting corpse on the boat.

What if . . . ? A thought occurred to Erec. If he morphed into a spider, maybe the boatman would not notice he was onboard. He caught Spartacus’s eye and held a finger up to get his attention. He pictured himself as a spider, and then he thought the word.

Nee-way.

The world around Erec grew upward at incredible speed, as he shrank to miniscule size. There were his eight jointed, armored legs, as he remembered them. In a moment he remembered how to use them, and started the long crawl toward the raft. Now that he was small, it would take forever for him to get there.

But Spartacus was watching. He picked Erec up and set him on Ward’s shoe. The boatman did not seem to notice.

“Okay, then?” Spartacus said. “Can I pay you now?”

The boatman nodded. Erec was glad that the boatman was able to hear Spartacus. Maybe it was because he was the gatekeeper of the
Underworld—he had to sense everything there. Spartacus dropped a coin into the open mouth of a shaggy male corpse on the raft. It smiled and slid into the dark waters.

But the boatman did not move.

“Go on, then.” Spartacus gestured out toward the water. “Take him across.”

“Only one person.”

Erec’s heart sank. Even though he was this tiny, the boatman still would not bring him across with Ward? At least Spartacus had made it over the river as a spirit. . . .

And then another thought occurred to him.

Nee-way.

Erec imagined himself as a soul. In a moment, he felt himself evaporate.

He had forgotten how lonely it felt to be a soul, alone and apart from its spirit and body. It was a horrible feeling. But if Spartacus was able to cross the river as a spirit, Erec might be able to cross as a soul. Either by himself, or together with Spartacus.

The urge to join him was overwhelming. Erec flew straight into Spartacus’s empty soul. It was hard to communicate—he could not speak at all—but Spartacus knew that he was there. In seconds they were passing through the compressed atmosphere above the river, breaking up into little particles, yet crossing all together. Underneath them, the boatman pushed Ward across the water.

On the other side, Erec and Spartacus waited for Ward to arrive. Erec waited a while to become human again, hoping he was helping Spartacus feel more normal again. Then he stepped outside of Spartacus and thought,
Nee-way.

Human again, he pulled Ward off of the raft. They were all safe now, and on their way home.

Erec felt in his pockets for the two bull horns. He was glad they—and his clothing—survived the trip. Apparently, inanimate objects passed through that tight atmosphere much more easily than living things. The Master Shem was still resting inside of one horn—Erec would always recognize it. The tiny scroll was made of ancient-looking parchment, and it was the size of one of his fingers. So small, but so powerful.

In the other horn was a small, soft ball. It was warm and a little mushy. Erec was careful not to accidentally poke a finger through it. When he looked carefully, it moved just a little bit, looking alive, like a little brain. This was Tarvos’s power source, given to him by the sorcerer ages ago. Without it, he was just an extra-large bull.

Spartacus dropped Ward off at his old ranch, to be watched by Erec’s old friends, Kyron and Artie, who were living there. Then he flew with Erec to Rosco’s apartment. Rosco was pacing, his face pulled tight, fists stuffed into his pockets. When he saw Erec, he looked stunned for a moment. Then he pulled him into the kitchen and spoke quietly. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m sorry.” Erec felt awful. “I know. I just didn’t want to risk your life.” He grabbed a glass of water and sat down.

“I got all the way to the cave that led to the Underworld. But I couldn’t find my way through. It was pitch black, and my MagicLight wouldn’t even work in there. I was so scared you might need me that I tried to find my way by feel, and then I fell down a huge pit. If I couldn’t fly, I’d still be there.” He put his hand on his stomach. “I had to give up. But I felt like I was abandoning you. And I have to say, I’m really angry. You could have been killed!”

“Rosco, that’s awful. I’m glad you’re okay. But I’m fine. If you came with me, we would never have gotten out. . . .”

Rosco collapsed into a chair, and put a hand up. “Hey, it’s over. I’m going to try to put this out of my head now. Never again, okay?” He covered his eyes with his hand.

Erec did not answer, not able to promise that he would take Rosco everywhere. In fact, there was no way that Rosco would be able to go see the Furies, which was what he had to do next.

Rosco peeked between his fingers. “So . . . what happened?”

“I got both of Tarvos’s horns! Also the Master Shem, and Tarvos’s power source.” As he said it, Erec began to gleam. He had done it! It had been so hard getting home again, and so exhausting, that he had not really enjoyed his victory.

Rosco’s eyes widened. “You are kidding. . . . Are you serious? You actually disarmed Tarvos the Great? What are you, some kind of superhero?”

“Nope. Just lucky. Spartacus did most of the work.” Erec told Rosco about making Ward drink the water from the River Lethe. “So he’s kind of like a newborn now. He’s at Spartacus’s ranch. I guess we’ll leave him there for now. He’ll be okay.”

Rosco frowned. “I don’t know. But something bothers me about this—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Rosco took a deep breath and howled, chin up to the ceiling. It was so loud that Erec had to step back.

“We have to go.” Rosco stood. “The Shadow Prince wants me to bring you to him right away. Let’s take the Port-O-Door.”

Erec was glad that Baskania had not tried making Erec come by commanding him personally. Hopefully he had given that up. Even though the pill that put Erec under Baskania’s control didn’t fully work, it was not pleasant to resist.

Rosco led Erec to the Port-O-Door, and Spartacus followed. They walked out into the Inner Sanctum of the Green House in Alypium. Passing a series of rooms, they came to a large office filled with hundreds of candles, Baskania at his huge carved wood desk. King Pluto stood at his side, and President Washington Inkle trembled in fear next to them.