At that thought, the room around Erec flew out on all sides, and he thunked, a fat worm, onto the book he had been reading. He looked around wildly, but Rosco had disappeared. His voice boomed, though, from down below. . . .
“It’s okay, little buddy. I saw you run into that hole, Erec. I know you’re a spider now, and I promise I’m not going to crush you. Just come back out and climb on my finger, and we’ll look at the book together until you change back.”
Erec wished that he was able to shout to Rosco, or even say anything. It was pretty funny that Rosco thought he was a fleeing spider. At least he wasn’t hurting the poor thing. The room was blurry, and it was impossible to focus on anything around him. But there was a sound—“Eew!”—and a shadow approaching rapidly—
“Erec?” Rosco’s booming voice was close now. “Ugh. I’m sorry, I guess that spider wasn’t you. Um, can you hear me like that?”
Erec could not exactly nod or answer. He remembered what he had done before to change back fast. What was that word?
Nee-way.
He morphed into his normal self, sitting on the book, then hopped off. “Sorry,” he panted. “That’s just weird.”
Rosco looked stunned. “Yeah . . . It’s okay. Glad you’re all right.”
Erec wiped the sweat off of his face. “I wish I could go back into the Underworld through that Bubble Boulder like last time. But Tarvos only left it open once. Let’s look in these books and find the best way back.”
“I can get you there. But read this.” Spartacus waved pages in front of Erec’s face. The book was called
Dream Vacations or Nightmares?
Visits to the Underworld That Your Family Will Never Forget.
“Look at the ‘Avoid at All Times’ list.”
The book described a multitude of places that a vacationing family would not want to see on a visit to the Underworld. It sounded like most of the Underworld was included in the list. Spartacus tapped one of the pages.
Again—don’t forget to bring two gold coins to the Underworld—that is, if you want to get back out again! Although it is a stunning destination, there are a few tricky spots you will want to avoid. Many areas of the Underworld contain the word “swamp.” Just for ease, we like to advise our readers to stay away from all of those places. Some of them include the Swamp Marsh of Disease, the Swamplands, the Never Ending Swamp Fields of Disaster, and the famous Chicken Swamp of Bruno. Also, stay away from any destination that includes the following words in its name: final, death, grim, swallow, sickness, craziness, scum, or toothbrush.
A number of Shadow Demons monitor the Underworld like police officers of the area. So if you run into one, don’t despair! They will generally acquaint you with the place and make sure that everything is as it should be. One of their duties is to decide who gets to leave and who should stay on permanently. So you may have the wonderful surprise of becoming a permanent resident! Your vacation will go on forever. This is nice for the Shadow Demons as well, because the Underworld needs to stay populated. If you are bound and determined to return home again, it is advised to follow the Shadow Demon’s directions wisely.
Another place to avoid while you are there are the lovely Suction Pits of Despair in the Desert of Eternal Heat. While the Desert
itself is miserable and dangerous, it still is a fine place to take your children for a trip that they will never forget. We cannot, however, in good conscience, recommend that you sink with them into the Suction Pits. These lead straight down to the inescapable cavern of Tarvos the Great. Once you are there, you will be instantly killed by a magical, giant bull, never to be heard from again.
“Do you have two gold coins on you?” Erec asked.
Rosco pulled two ring coins out of his pocket and gave them to Erec. “You going to hang on to these just in case?”
“Just in case?” Erec laughed. “I’m ready to go now. Spartacus has had it with waiting.”
Rosco raised an eyebrow. “We’re really going to do this? I don’t know. I’m all for helping you learn to stop time. But why not get the talisman from another foe?”
“I need to stop Tarvos anyway.” Erec waved a hand toward the book. “But you shouldn’t come. It’s not worth the risk. At least I could get a cloudy thought and turn into a dragon if things get bad.”
“Tarvos eats dragons,” Rosco reminded him. “You wouldn’t be a match for him.”
“I need to do this.”
Rosco closed his eyes. “You’ve been lucky so far following your gut instincts and listening to the Fates. But do you think I can let you go to that awful place by yourself? I’m supposed to be watching you. You’re still a kid!”
“What is it with the adults in my life trying to stop me from what I’m supposed to do? The Fates are why I got the book of spells from Baskania. I’m sure that they knew all of this would happen.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” Rosco raised his voice.
Erec paused a minute and thought. “I have to go with what I feel is right. The Hermit said that too.”
Spartacus clapped his hands. “Well, enough of all this fun debating. Let’s go! No need for a Port-O-Door. I’ll take us straight to the Underworld. Ready for a visit to the lovely Suction Pits of Despair, in the Desert of Eternal Heat? Sounds like a charming place to stay.”
Erec nodded.
“You don’t want to take Rosco, do you? I’m all for leaving him behind too. Just nod and we’re out of here.”
Erec nodded again. No use putting Rosco at risk. In a second, Spartacus’s hands rested on Erec’s shoulders, and they flew straight out the window.
Before Erec knew it, they had flown deep into a cave, and were turning this way and that in the darkness. He was glad that Spartacus had a good grip on his shoulders, because he could not see a thing. Every now and then there was a glimpse of the floor split apart in spots, and with subterranean streams rushing by. There was no way he could have found his way through here by himself.
Soon he was set down before a thin gap in a craggy, damp stone wall. Eerie red light seeped through the narrow rift in the rock. It seemed doubtful that any family would come here for a vacation. In fact, every part of him wanted to run away, even knowing that he had to go inside. There was a foreboding feeling about the place, like people were just not supposed to be here.
“Do you know what it’s like in there?” he asked Spartacus.
“Nope. Never seen it. Do you want me to check it out first?”
As much as Erec did not want to be left alone here, he definitely wanted to know what lay ahead. “Thanks, Spartacus.”
The ghost set him down and disappeared. The cave had an eerie feel. He could not get the idea out of his head that if Spartacus disappeared he would be stuck there forever.
But the spirit returned before long. “I found the way to the
Desert of Eternal Heat. It’s harder to get my bearings in there. You’ll see what I mean, it’s a strange place.”
Without giving Erec a chance to ask questions, Spartacus pulled him higher up the wall through a larger crack. Erec’s arms scraped against the stone as he passed through. On the other side, bright red light glowed intensely. He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a minute to get used to it. A strange, bubbly feeling came over him, and when he opened them, the light seemed even brighter. He was suspended in the air over an immense river, eerily lit by an unseen, flickering source. Everything around him looked dark purple. Warm sulphur-smelling mists rose from the waters.
Erec’s limbs jumped in shock, feeling like he was about to fall into the dark water. He flailed for a minute, hanging with no support or help from Spartacus. But after a moment he realized that he was clinging to some kind of rope. It was strange how easy it was to hold himself up—he wasn’t tired one bit. In fact, it seemed he could go on forever hanging there, without exerting himself at all. He waved an arm or two around—or three? What was he holding on with . . . ?
Erec’s thoughts stopped cold. Multiple arms? His eyes drifted over his own body, and there were the hairy jointed armor-type limbs again. He had turned into a spider so quickly when his eyes were closed that he had not even noticed it. So, what was he hanging on to, then? On closer inspection, the rope was a tall stick of dead grass that bent over the river.
He began to shake. What if he morphed back into his full-sized self now? He would fall into the water. But looking at the dark bubbles below him, he knew that there was something nasty about it that he should not touch.
Spartacus’s voice seemed extra loud since he was small. “Sorry, Erec. It took me a minute to realize where you went. I could sense that you were still here, but I couldn’t figure it out.” He scooped
Erec up with a finger. “Stay away from that water, or you’ll never get out of here. It’s the River Styx, and it’s meant to keep people in the Underworld forever.”
Erec remembered the Waters of Oblivion that he had once crossed in order to go to Tartarus to find the three Furies the first time. One step in that stream guaranteed death. He had walked through it—and had died shortly after. Luckily for him, he was brought back to life. But the last thing he needed was to tempt fate again. Spartacus scooped him into the air, safely away from the edge of the River Styx. Erec thought the word
Nee-way
and about his normal form, and he morphed back.
“Phew. Thanks for saving me! Can you fly us over the river?”
“No. I checked it out before, but I couldn’t take you there even if you were a spider. I can cross myself, but the atmosphere is crazy above the river. It squeezes me into tiny particles. Even as a spirit I can barely fit through it. There is no way you could go over in one piece. There’s a boatman, though.” Spartacus pointed into the distance.
A dark shadow on the water grew larger. Soon a man was visible standing on a wooden raft, pushing himself forward with a long pole. Waters lapped over the sides of the raft, and occasionally the man stopped to shove things off the wooden boards with his stick. Before long, he washed ashore near Erec and Spartacus. Thick white worms wriggled off the wood as it slid onto land.
The boatman wore a torn canvas coat, its heavily frayed hood over his head. His skin was wearing away in places, bits of bone popping through his cheeks and knuckles. A curly black beard covered most of his face, but his eyes shone with a sly gleam and his mouth curved into a grin. “Welcome to the Underworld.” His accent was from North England, but he drew out his vowels in a way that made him sound a bit crazy.
“Can we take your boat to cross, and go to the Desert of Eternal Heat?”
“Do ye have payment?”
“Payment?” It took Erec a moment to remember the two ring coins in his pocket. He pulled them out. “How much does it cost?”
The boatman eyed the gold. “That will do.”
“Okay.” One chair perched in the middle of the raft. Erec climbed on and sat down. “Can you take me straight to the Desert of Eternal Heat, then?”
The boatman shook his head. “I take you across the river. That is what I can do.”
Erec climbed on and sat in the chair. “What about Spartacus?”
“Whooo?” It sounded like the boatman was trying to imitate an owl.
Erec remembered that Spartacus would be invisible to the boatman. “He’s a spirit that is with me.”
“Nooo.” The boatman shook his head. “There is room for only one.”
“It’s okay, Erec. I’ll squeeze through overhead again. You take the boat and I’ll meet you on the other side.”
Erec waited patiently, but the boatman did not move. Finally, he asked, “Are you waiting for something?”
“Payment.”
Erec tried to put the two coins into the man’s fingers. One slipped through his jutting finger bones and onto the strung-together logs of the raft. Erec grabbed the coin again before it was lost. The boatman remained immobile. He nodded, slowly. “Ye must put your payment into its mouth.” He pointed down at a decaying body of a woman that was suddenly on the raft.
Spartacus held his nose. “She’s dead.”
“What? You’re disgusted by that? Who are you to talk?” Erec
almost laughed, but at the same time he was just as sickened by the rotting corpse.
The dead woman turned her waxen eyes to look at Erec, and slowly opened her jaws. A few spiders ran out . . . and Erec immediately sympathized with them. How horrid it must have been for them inside of there! And he was supposed to put the coins into her mouth. . . .
Holding his breath and trying not to get sick, Erec lowered the gold ring coins to her black lips. Her lips opened wider into a broad, gaping grin, and a dark purple tongue wiggled out. Carefully, he brought the coins close and dropped them in. The dead woman gobbled them up as if they were pastry dough, sighed heavily, and belched. Her mouth opened again in a wavering wail, and she slid off of the raft and into the water.
The boatman pushed his pole against the shore and set off with Erec into the River Styx. The waters were rocky, and waves lapped over the boat edges coming close to Erec’s shoes.
Erec pulled his feet closer to the chair. “I can’t touch the water, right?”
“Ye can touch it.”
Erec wasn’t sure what the boatman meant by that. “Will it hurt me, though?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt.” The boatman pushed on, then beat away at something in the water with his stick. Erec noticed the white worms again, wriggling at the sides of the raft.
He had the feeling that the boatman was leaving out some important information about the water. “If I touch the water, will it kill me? Or make me have to stay in the Underworld forever?”
The boatman cackled. “It could do. Ye know what they say . . . that which doesn’t kill ye makes ye stronger.”
Erec thought about that for a moment. “Do you mean that the water here could help me, too?”
“Ye ask a lot of questions.” He rowed some more, then beat something else away with his pole. There was a scuttling noise, and some of the worms wiggled closer to Erec. . . . It took him a minute to realize that they weren’t worms at all. They were fingers, and some of them were attached to hands. People were hanging off of the boat, and now someone was trying to climb on. A decaying figure, half of its head an exposed skull, scrambled aboard. Its mouth hung open, gaping and snapping, and it crawled toward Erec as if it wanted to bite him.