A World Without Heroes

by Brandon Mull

“Hurdles and pole vault.”

  “Pole vault?” Jason repeated, impressed. “You must have some guts.”

  “I like trying new things,” she said.

  “I’m long past convinced,” the Blind King inserted. “Judging from your inflections, I would say you speak English in a similar manner, and based on your intonations, I feel confident that you’re both telling the truth. But I already knew that. Consider the exercise a lesson in vigilance. Without extreme caution you will not survive. Shall we eat?”

  Jason started transferring meat to his plate. “What’s your name?” he asked the girl.

  “Rachel,” she replied, spooning vegetables onto the Blind King’s plate, then helping herself. “You?”

  “I’m Jason.” Following her example, he shared several cuts of pheasant with the Blind King.

  “Don’t mind me,” the Blind King protested. “My table is set in such a fashion as to enable me to feed myself. Eat your food and get acquainted.”

  “Can you believe we’re actually here?” Rachel asked as Jason made a small pile of mashed vegetables on his plate.

  “I’ve had a hard time getting used to all of this,” Jason admitted, trying a bite of pheasant. “Did you get swallowed by a hippo too?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Jason came into our world through the jaws of a hippopotamus,” the Blind King explained. “The residue of very old magic. There is no rarer or stranger portal connecting our realities.”

  Rachel pursed her lips. “What, the way I came here was typical?”

  The Blind King shook his head. “In these times any visit from a Beyonder is virtually inconceivable.”

  “You came through a different way?” Jason asked.

  “I was hiking with my parents,” Rachel said, her eyes losing focus. “We were in Arches National Park, in southern Utah.”

  “But you’re from Washington,” Jason said. “Let me guess—the vacation schedule for homeschool is flexible.”

  “I actually have less vacation time than most kids,” Rachel corrected. “Homeschool is portable. My parents are big on firsthand experiences. We do lots of field trips. Museums. Foreign countries. National parks. They’re big on nature.”

  “I’ve always wanted to travel more. Do you speak other languages and stuff?”

  Her eyes lit up. “I love languages. I speak pretty fluent French and Spanish. I’m okay at Italian and Portuguese. And I can sort of get by in Russian, Chinese, and a couple others.”

  Jason gave a low whistle. “You’ve been to all those places? Italy and China and everywhere?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds like you guys have some money.”

  “Dad made a lot as a software designer. He’s semiretired. I’m an only child.”

  “You were telling how you came here,” the Blind King prompted.

  “Right,” Rachel said, raking her fingers through her dark brown hair. “Dad had hired a local guide to take us off the beaten path. He drove us around in a jeep through some amazing country. Have you been to Arches?”

  “No. I’ve been to the Grand Canyon.”

  “Me too. The Grand Canyon was just a big hole in the ground. Arches and Bryce Canyon seemed much cooler to me. They’re full of these awesome spires and bridges made with stones in all these crazy colors.”

  “You should write a travel guide,” Jason said dryly.

  “Anyhow, our guide was taking us to some smaller stone arches. The kind you can’t find on maps or drive to on a road. He parked beside an arroyo—that’s what he called a ravine—and we walked from there. The arroyo branched in a couple places, and while we were stopped for a snack at one point, I saw this beautiful blue and gold butterfly. Each wing was nearly the size of my hand. They almost looked metallic.”

  “Let me guess the twist ending,” Jason said. “The butterfly swallowed you, and you ended up in Lyrian.”

  “Not quite. The butterfly made me curious. I had never seen anything like it, and I thought maybe I had found a new species. After all, we were in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I’ve never heard of a North American butterfly like you’re describing,” Jason said, proud to sound official with his zoological knowledge.

  “We have them here,” the Blind King remarked. “Go on.”

  “I left my parents and the guide and chased after the butterfly. It stayed too far ahead for me to catch up and get a good picture, but I had no trouble following.”

  “So then what happened?” Jason asked, taking another bite of meat. The pheasant was quite tender, the crisp brown skin on the edges deliciously seasoned.

  “I ended up in front of this natural stone bridge, a really impressive one. The butterfly flew forward under the stone arch and disappeared. One second the big, bright butterfly was in plain view—and the next it was gone. I stood there squinting, figuring it must have flown into the shadow of the arch and landed somewhere.”

  “As I told Rachel,” the Blind King commented in his raspy voice, “stone archways have long been a means of conveyance between our worlds. Much more conventional than water horses.”

  “You followed the butterfly,” Jason said.

  “The instant I passed below the arch, I was somewhere else,” Rachel recounted, her voice quavering at the memory. “The terrain was completely different—a leafy ravine full of gray rocks. I turned around, but the arroyo was gone.”

  “Did you try to backtrack?” Jason asked.

  She shook her head. “Not at first. I saw the butterfly on the ground, not far ahead of me. Its wings quivered weakly. I crouched beside it and watched it die.”

  “Wow,” Jason said. “Then what?”

  “I tried to go back,” Rachel said. “Whatever mystical doorway I had passed through was either one-way or only open for a second. I called for my parents. I walked up and down the ravine. I threw rocks. Eventually I decided I had better try to find civilization.”

  “She found the secluded cabin of a friend of mine,” the Blind King said.

  “It wasn’t far from where I came through,” Rachel said. “The cabin looked primitive but in good shape. I called and knocked, but nobody answered. The door was unlocked. I found a dead old woman inside. I swear I almost lost it. It was too much.”

  “Erinda lived in isolation,” the Blind King said, taking a sip of the golden beverage from the carafe. He smacked his lips. “Superior honeymelon juice. Be sure to sample some. Where was I? Oh, yes, I had received an urgent message from Erinda the day before, a cryptic missive about doing her part to save Lyrian. Erinda was something of a spellweaver, you see, and she mentioned that she had been in contact with one of the Giddy Nine.”

  “Was she the oracle?” Jason asked, pouring some of the golden liquid into his glass.

  The Blind King snorted. “Hardly. But she evidently played a role in the oracle’s designs. Erinda had a fondness for insects. How odd that a Beyonder followed a butterfly through a supernatural portal not far from her cabin on the day she died, all within hours of when young Jason arrived from the Beyond by even less likely means.”

  “I spent the rest of the day exploring,” Rachel continued. “I went back to the ravine hoping I could discover a way back to the arroyo. When I couldn’t find a way home, I went back to the cabin and spent the night with the corpse. At least the cabin had provisions.”

  “Dorsio and Brin the Gamester went and retrieved her,” the Blind King said. “The message from Erinda had advised me to send trustworthy men to her cottage.”

  “The Gamester who lives down the road from here?” Jason asked.

  The Blind King nodded. “Another member of my private circle.”

  “Brin convinced me to come with them,” Rachel said. “He seemed to believe I had come from another world. He and Dorsio brought me here.”

  “And I have been trying to decide what to do with you ever since,” the Blind King said. “I am watched too closely for you to remain here for any duration. Given my past, if the emperor bel
ieved I was harboring a Beyonder, it would lead to the end of us all. Rachel, I believe your destiny is entwined with Jason’s.”

  “My destiny?” Rachel huffed. “Are you serious? You say it like you mean it.”

  The Blind King sighed thoughtfully. “There are some oracles who truly possess the gift of foresight. Some pretend, some guess, but a few are legitimate. Indeed some in my family have wielded this true gift of prescience. It seems the last great prophetess in the world helped instigate your arrival here. Where true oracles are involved, yes, I believe in destiny. Or at least potential destiny. The future is never certain.”

  “I’ve always thought fortune-tellers were ridiculous,” Rachel said candidly. “Then again, after coming here, I’m not sure what to believe anymore. Who knows what might be possible? But enough about me. Jason, tell me about this hippopotamus.”

  Jason recounted his escapade at the zoo, his arrival at the river, and his failed rescue attempt. Rachel acted incredulous about the hippo, but after Jason pointed out that it was no less plausible than journeying to a new world beneath a stone archway, she listened intently to the rest. The Blind King stopped him before he could relate anything about the Repository of Learning.

  “Jason took a detour before joining us here,” the Blind King explained. “The details of this detour are perilous to any who learn them. Jason acquired information that directed him toward a quest that could destroy Maldor.”

  “The emperor?” Rachel verified.

  The Blind King nodded. “It must all be part of the oracle’s design.”

  “Wait,” Jason said. “Are you telling us that everything we do here is already determined?”

  “Certainly not,” the Blind King said. “Oracles do not deal in absolutes. They deal in possibilities. The future is always in flux, changing according to the decisions made in the present. Presumably, somewhere in our wide array of possible futures there is a chance that this quest of yours could yield favorable results to those who oppose Maldor. We know nothing more.”

  “And you think I’m part of this,” Rachel said.

  “The specifics of the prophecy died with Erinda and the Giddy Nine,” the Blind King said. “My best guess is that you two were meant to embark on this quest together. I could be wrong. The choice is yours. The endeavor will be unspeakably dangerous.”

  “What if I don’t want to join him?” Rachel asked.

  “I would send you away to a farm owned by distant relatives,” the Blind King said. “You would play the role of an orphan brought into the household to help with chores. We would all do our best to hide the fact that you came from the Beyond. Perhaps by lying low and hiding your past, you could eventually build a life here.”

  “No, thanks,” Rachel said. “I want to find a way home!”

  The Blind King ran a finger around the rim of a glass. His strong hands looked somewhat younger than the color of his hair and beard would indicate. “If you mean to search for a way home, the endeavor will require much travel. The safest way for you to travel would probably be as a coconspirator in a plot to overthrow Maldor.”

  “Really?” Rachel asked skeptically.

  “Maldor is a complicated ruler. He takes great interest in his enemies, seeking to test them, measure them, and eventually to corrupt or break them. Strange as it may sound, you will meet less resistance on the road if you are part of a known plot against him.”

  “And Jason’s plot is known?” Rachel asked.

  “Well known,” the Blind King assured her. “Undoubtedly the eye of the emperor is on him. Should you elect to join Jason, the gaze of the emperor will rest upon you as well. As a Beyonder, joining a desperate quest such as this may be your wisest option, as I assume the oracle foresaw.”

  Rachel rubbed her temples. “I can’t believe this! Everything keeps getting worse and worse. I had a good life! It made sense!”

  “I can’t completely understand how disorienting this must feel,” the Blind King consoled.

  “I can,” Jason said. “It wasn’t like I came here looking for a mission. I stumbled across it while hunting for a way home. And I still want to find a way home.”

  “I would not blame either of you for being reluctant to adopt this quest as your own,” the Blind King avowed. “You were both drawn here by forces beyond your understanding.”

  “For your sake, I’m sorry you’re here, Rachel,” Jason said. “For mine, I’m sort of glad. It’s a relief to talk to somebody who at least knows the Yankees exist.”

  Biting her lower lip, Rachel pushed some food around her plate. She took a sip of water.

  “Take your time, Rachel,” the Blind King advised. “For the moment the secret Jason has learned remains his burden alone. Enough of your fate has been involuntary. I will not attempt to force this knowledge upon you. Tomorrow you can depart with Jason, sharing his secret, or you can depart for a quiet life on a farm. With Jason you would be constantly on the run, rushing from one peril to the next. On the farm, if we can manage to transport you there undetected, and if you avoid drawing attention, you would have a reasonable chance of living out your days in peace. You have this night to decide.”

  “Or there’s option three,” Rachel said. “Hit the road on my own and take my chances.”

  “I suppose,” the Blind King said. His tone made it clear he thought it would be foolish.

  “And I have no choice,” Jason grumbled.

  “Not much choice,” the Blind King agreed. “I suppose you could surrender to the emperor. Otherwise you should pursue the quest. Tonight you will rest under my protection. I will provide you with a room and a bed. On the morrow I will equip you and offer some parting counsel. For the present do your best to relax.”

  CHAPTER 6

  GIFTS

  A burst of three brisk thumps rapped against the door. Jason awoke, staring up at the underside of a dark blue canopy emblazoned with a golden sunburst, tucked between soft sheets, head cushioned on a feathery pillow. He occupied the room immediately below the Blind King’s personal chamber. Two sets of slatted shutters were latched over tall windows, mostly blocking the predawn grayness. Supercool weapons hung on the walls: several swords, a loaded crossbow, a javelin sharpened to a point at both ends, and a pair of bizarre weapons with short wooden handles from which sprouted many sharp, twisting blades of varying length, intricate as Chinese characters.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  Jason stretched. Apparently they wanted him to get an early start. Reluctant to leave his comfortable bed, he kicked off his sheets and crossed to the door, the stone floor chilly beneath his bare soles. After removing the bar from its brackets, he slid both bolts and pulled the thick door open. Dorsio stood on the landing, a short sword strapped to his side. He handed a bundle of clothes to Jason and gestured for him to follow.

  “Should I put these on first?” Jason asked.

  Dorsio gave a nod.

  He dressed hurriedly. The shirt, trousers, and loose vest fit better than the clothing Rachel had received. There were no shoes in the bundle. “Do I just wear my same boots?”

  Dorsio nodded again.

  Jason laced his boots. Remembering his manners, he hastily straightened the covers on the bed. Despite the instructions the Blind King had given to lock his room, the night had passed uneventfully.

  Jason climbed the stairs to the king’s room, passing the cook as she descended, a gaunt woman wearing a leather choker, clutching a large wooden spoon in one callused hand. He followed Dorsio to the top, where the attendant unlocked the door.

  “Enter,” the Blind King invited.

  Jason complied. Remaining on the stairs, Dorsio closed the door. A tray covered with steaming eggs, dark bread, and fat, crisp bacon sat on a low table. Jason took a seat. At an invitation from the king he piled eggs and bacon onto a slice of bread to make a breakfast sandwich.

  “This morning you must depart,” the king said. “I will do what I can to help you on your way.”

  “Where
should I go?” Jason asked after spitting a mouthful of bread and egg into his hand because it had burned his tongue. He was glad the king could not see the unappetizing act.

  The Blind King scowled pensively. “I have given the matter much consideration, and I’ve managed to revive a faint memory. I recommend you travel south, well beyond the crossroads, to a place where the road bends east along the top of sea cliffs. At the bend in the road you will leave it, heading farther south until you arrive at a tiny trickle of a stream that seeps away into a crack not far from the brink of the cliffs. Looking down off the precipice near the stream, you will observe a pair of rocks shaped like arrowheads. At low tide jump between those rocks, and swim into the cave at the base of the cliff. A man who dwells inside will give you some of the answers I cannot supply.”

  “When is low tide?’

  “This time of year it should fall around midday.”

  “How high are these cliffs? Won’t I get hurt?”

  “The water is deep there. You might drown or be crushed against rocks, but you should survive the fall.”

  “Comforting.” Jason had been blowing on his open sandwich. He took a tentative bite. “Will he give me part of the Word?”

  The king crinkled his brow. “He might. I recall that a man in the sea cave assisted me in my quest. I do not remember where I obtained the fragments of the Word I collected, although I know some part came from The Book of Salzared. Whether the man in the cave knows part of the Word, or can simply offfer some guidance, I am unsure. The memory of his location was all I could salvage.”

  “How did they erase your memories?”

  The Blind King shrugged. “Torture. Toxins. Conditioning. Magic. It is all a miserable blur. I am not quite as old as I appear. I was once a proud, defiant man. The tormentors worked on me until I broke, mind and body. I have attempted to rehabilitate my body, to some success. Healing my mind has proven to be the greater challenge.”

  With his tongue still feeling scalded, Jason finished his flavorless sandwich. He heard boots stomping up the stairs, followed by a firm rap at the door.