The Search for Truth (28 page)

H
OMER, THE GOLDEN
ghost, hovered in the air before the Novikov Time Bender. He seemed to be smiling, although his features were hard to make out. “Welcome back, Erec Rex.”

“Thanks.” Erec hesitated. He didn't want to say anything to ruin his chances. “I would like to use the Novikov Time Bender, please. It's really important.”

“I know you do,” the ghost said, fluttering in the air. “And I know why.”

“So…it's okay?”

“Your motivations are the best, Erec, no matter what your results may be. That is all that matters. Steering the future is up to you, not me, as long as you are driven by your heart.”

Erec looked at the machine with apprehension. It did not help that it looked like a gold coffin with a glass front. “Can I see through it when I'm inside?”

“Yes, until you turn the dials. Then you will see only where you are in time. I can watch over you through the glass. Or when I look in the viewer.” He pointed at a small television screen extending from the side of the Time Bender. “There I can see what is happening where you have gone.”

“So you'll see on the screen what I'm doing, and through this glass case you'll just see me lying there?”

“Yes.”

Going into the past seemed too easy. Erec had expected some resistance. “Will you let anyone know that I went?”

“Not if you don't want me to.”

He heard his voice crack, and he realized he was afraid of going. “Do I need to take anything with me?”

“You won't be able to,” the ghost said. “That was a problem with the first prototype. People went back naked because they could not take clothing with them. This new model will give you a version of what you are wearing now, made to fit you at any age you pick.”

“And when I go back, will I know everything I know now?”

“You will. Except your body will look the same as it was at that time, of course.”

Erec then asked a question that really bothered him. “What happens to the other version of me that was there then? What if I run into it?”

“That's the beauty of the Time Bender,” the ghost said. “You can't run into yourself. You go into your body at that time. So there will be no other version of you there. Whatever you do when you go back will be all that you do then. Your old self evaporates from your body a while, then returns when you leave.”

“Does it remember anything?” Erec asked. “Will the old me remember what the new me did after I leave?”

“No, the old you will have no idea. It will feel like a bit of amnesia, I'm afraid. That's why it is only recommended to use the Time Bender once. More times might cause a problem. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Definitely.” Erec gulped. He had his doubts, though. “Could I get stuck there?”

“That should not happen. Unless, of course, somebody keeps you from coming back to this room again. You have to get back here to return.” The ghost stretched what looked like an arm, and the machine lowered so it was flat on the ground.

That put a time limit on his visit, for sure. Best to get this over with before he got too nervous. He pulled the handle on the glass front door of the Time Bender, climbed in, lay down, and shut the door over him. Three red dials hung against the side of the machine near his shoulder.

This was it, he thought. His chance to fix everything. If he succeeded, Aoquesth would be alive and well when he stepped out again. Not only that, but everything would be better. Everything.

Erec was not going back to the battle where Aoquesth had died. He wanted the Time Bender to take him back much further. Back before he ever had left Alypium, before he had his memory removed. He would find Olwen Cullwich and get the Twrch Trwyth. And while he was there, he would learn who his father and birth mother were.

And he would do one other thing too, which would change everything. If he was successful, Aoquesth would be alive again.

 

Erec had to think before he turned the top dial to a date. He was born on April 18, almost fourteen years ago. He could not remember anything before he was four years old, so that was probably the time his memory had been removed. But his mother had told him he was the wrong age for a long time, and it was hard to remember being that young anyway, so he couldn't be exact.

He needed to choose a date before the castle was turned on its side. That way he'd be able to get out of the catacombs and back in again when he was ready to leave. In the fall, King Piter had said the castle had been on its side for almost ten years. So Erec would go back a little while before then. That timing seemed perfect.

Erec wound the three dials—one each for the year, month, and day—to bring him back ten years and five months. It would be August 18, when Erec was three years and four months old.

When the last dial stopped on the number 18, the front of the glass clouded. A whirl of dust and specks blew by from right to left outside of the glass, making the box feel like the inside of a tornado. His arms twitched, aching. Then his whole body shook, twisted, flailed in the machine. Everything hurt. He felt dizzy, filled with strange sensations, a gurgling in his stomach that rose up to his throat.

His head tingled, but when he reached up, to where his head should have been, to rub it, it wasn't there. Instead his hands were on his shoulders. He had to stretch much higher to touch his head, which seemed to have grown enormous. Maybe that was what all the itching, stretching, and pinching was from. His body was getting distorted.

For a moment he panicked. What if something had gone wrong?
He remembered how awful he had looked holding the Awen of Beauty. What if this journey disfigured him permanently?

He took a breath, telling himself to relax. No matter how bad he was now, he assured himself that it would get fixed one way or another. He looked down at his hands and arms. They were small and spindly. In fact, his whole body was small and spindly, except for his stomach, which stuck out a bit, and his enormous head.

The glass front of the Novikov Time Bender cleared, and he could see the room and the golden ghost through it. Had it worked? Was he right back where he'd started, only deformed now? With some difficulty, Erec pushed the glass door open and sat up.

Homer gathered above him in the air like a golden storm cloud with facial features. “You made it, Erec. Good for you. How are you feeling?”

“I made it?” Erec's voice sounded high, and his words came slowly, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton balls. It was hard to even form the words, as if his mouth had its own ideas of what to do. “Am I back ten years?”

“You are,” Homer said. “You might find it interesting to look in a mirror when you get a chance. There are plenty up in the west wing.”

Erec was very interested, but he dreaded the idea too. He might see what he looked like before June, his adoptive mother, had changed his looks—if he wasn't too deformed now to tell. He'd never even seen a picture of himself at this age. It would be unnerving.

“Thank you,” he garbled. It sounded like his mouth was ultraslow and full of food. At least his mind was moving at the normal speed.

He reached the golden doorknob and walked into the catacombs of the castle. They looked exactly as they did when Erec had walked down them a few minutes ago—which was over ten years later—except they seemed much taller and wider now that he was small. He
knew where he was going, but he took twice as long to get there with his little footsteps.

He found himself much more aware of the floor, as he was closer to it. He had never really worried about seeing rats or mice down here before, but now they would be much bigger compared to him, and the thought frightened him. In fact, anyone he ran into would seem huge and able to scoop him up and do anything to him. He was pretty defenseless, he realized.

Climbing the stairway into the west wing was tiring. Each step seemed immense. He opened the door and darted into a shadow behind a suit of armor. Maids and butlers scurried about, cleaning and carrying trays. People in suits and long black cloaks whizzed down the hallway. Erec could not believe how huge they were. He had to lean his head back to see who was walking nearby.

Then Erec froze. Balthazar Ugry was there, right in front of him. It took Erec a minute to be sure it was him. Ugry looked exactly the same, yet different, somehow. Less frightening. More normal. But Erec could not place why.

He waited for Ugry and a few other people to walk by. Then, when nobody was looking, he darted behind a statue and stole down the hallway. There were a lot of sitting rooms with mirrors. He just had to find one that was empty.

 

Erec pushed the door shut so nobody would see him. An ornate mirror hung on the wall over a row of molding that was just over his head. It looked like it was three feet off the floor, and he guessed he was just over three feet tall. But even when he stood on his toes, his eyes just missed the mirror.

He pushed a soft, cushioned chair against the wall and climbed onto it, which took a little doing as the seat was about as high as his chest. But when he stood and looked at himself, he jumped. A tiny
child was staring back at him. A stranger. Curly blond hair tumbled around his face like a girl's. But his face didn't look girlish, at least. It was wide, with round, pink cheeks and a pointy chin. Only his blue eyes looked relatively unchanged.

Again he had to stretch his arms all the way up to reach over the top of his head. Now, looking in the mirror, he realized it was not because his head was abnormally big. It was his arms that were small. He looked pretty much in proportion—for a tiny kid, at least. His clothes looked funny on him, the same red tee shirt and jeans, but at least they fit. At least he had clothes.

So, he nodded into the mirror, this was what he had to deal with. Could be worse. It was actually to his benefit to be little like this. When he was done spying around in the castle, he would stroll into the agora and wait for some nice person to come help him. Maybe walk into a shop and ask for a policeman, say he was lost. It would seem perfectly natural that he had no clue where he lived and just called his parents Mom and Dad. He knew his own name, Erec Rex, and the police should be able to find out where he lived from that alone. Then, voilà—he would take him safely where he needed to go. Then, voilà—he would get to meet his father and birth mother.

A chill zipped through him. Out of habit, every time he thought about his father he remembered that terrible old dream, that awful memory of the father that had turned out not to be his. What would his real father be like? Aoquesth had said such great things about him. He hoped his father lived up to them. Either way, Erec could not wait to finally meet him.

And his birth mother, too. He had so many unanswered questions for her. Why would she leave him? What would happen to her? She might not know all the answers yet, of course. Those were things that would happen in her future. Maybe he could change them while he
was here. Who knew? Maybe he could rearrange things so that he was never adopted to begin with.

Then he felt guilty for thinking that. June was a better mother than he could ever imagine. He wasn't sure what he would do when he met his parents, if he would try to change his fate or not. Maybe when he spent time with them, the answers would all become clear.

But first he had to make a decision. He needed to do three things on this journey. First, meet his parents and find out what had happened to them. Second, find Olwen Cullwich and get the Twrch Trwyth. And third, there was something he had to do at the castle that would change everything, save everyone, and bring Aoquesth back. But should he meet his parents first and then come back to the castle? Or should he do the other two things while he was here?

The door flew open with a bang. An old woman in a maid's uniform clattered in with her equipment. She took one glance at Erec and marched over to him with a fierce expression.

“Hi.” Erec smiled. He was about to launch into an explanation, but the maid grabbed him by the waist and flung him over her shoulder.

“Put me down.” The words came out slow. He realized that he sounded like a three-year-old, despite his best efforts. The maid was marching him somewhere and did not seem to care one bit what he said. “Let me go. I'm going home.” The words took too long and came out squeaky. The maid rounded a corner. Erec began to struggle, throwing himself around so she would lose her balance. But no matter how much he kicked and flailed, she was stronger and did not come close to dropping him.

Deeper into the west wing, Erec got nervous. Where was she taking him? They wouldn't punish a little kid for being here illegally, would they? Maybe she was going to find someone to take him home. That would work for him. He relaxed and waited.

The maid opened a door to a vast playroom and set him down. Toy shelves were everywhere, with massive toys on them. It took him a moment to remember that the toys were not massive; it was just that he was small. “I found this one in a parlor, way down by the hall of armor,” the maid grunted, annoyed.

A young blond woman rushed to Erec and fell to her knees before him. “I was looking for you, sweetie! Where did you go, Prince Poo-Poo Head?”

Erec felt dizzy. What was this? Someone had been looking for him? And who was Prince Poo-Poo Head? It did not sound like a compliment. There must be some mistake. He looked around the room. Two other kids who looked about his size were playing nearby, both with blond curls like his. A girl was coloring in a book on a rug, with boxes of crayons and markers spread around her, and a boy was running around the room with his arms out, pretending he was flying.

The boy spotted him and ran right into him, knocking him over. Erec's shoulder hit the wood floor, which hurt, and the boy's shoe smashed into his face. “Crash!” the boy shouted. “Crash Prince Poo-Poo Head.” Then he ran away, looking over his shoulder as if he expected Erec to chase after him.