A World Without Heroes

by Brandon Mull

  “I’m not sure about anything,” Jason admitted. “But I think he’s sincere. If we’ve drawn unwanted attention, slipping out of town after dark probably makes the most sense.”

  “Unless people come for us before then,” Rachel pointed out.

  “You have your explosive crystal ball?” Jason asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Keep it handy.”

  She nodded. “I’m going to find Kerny’s mother. Maybe she can go buy us some provisions.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Jason said. “We’re running low. And we might want to think twice before hanging around another town.”

  “I’ll need to give her money,” Rachel prompted.

  Jason got out the little bag with the pellets. “How much?”

  “Fifteen should buy a lot. I got the feeling those puckerlies were pricey.”

  Jason handed over three bronze pellets. “She may keep the money and betray us.”

  “It beats openly roaming the town, trying to buy provisions ourselves,” Rachel said. “I’ll pay attention. If she stays away too long, we can make a run for it.”

  “Tell her to keep a drooma for her trouble,” Jason said.

  “I was thinking two.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Can I borrow the satchel?”

  “Sure.”

  “You should probably keep the door locked.”

  “I will.”

  After Rachel left, Jason practiced drawing his knife. Pulling it out still in the sheath had failed to intimidate Ned. He rehearsed until he could slip a hand into his cloak and swiftly produce a naked blade.

  It was well into the afternoon. If they were going to sneak away in the night, Jason realized he should probably sleep. It took some time to calm his mind, but eventually he dozed.

  All was dark when Jason woke. He could barely make out the shape of the trunk on the floor. He had no idea how late it was, but the night was quiet. He wondered if Rachel was all right. If there had been commotion, he supposed he would have awakened.

  Jason got out of his hammock and stood at the window. He saw no stars. Where was Ned? Should they wait for him? What if he failed to come?

  After gathering his belongings from the trunk, Jason tiptoed to the door. A tap on the window startled him. Whirling, he saw Ned’s face beyond the warped glass, upside down. Jason undid the latch, and Ned swung nimbly from the roof through the open window.

  “Come with me,” Ned whispered.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  Jason held still and focused on his hearing. After a tense moment a faint creak reached his ears. “That? What is it?”

  Ned’s breath was in his ear. “Somebody failing to move silently.”

  Panic jolted through Jason. “What about Rachel?”

  “Already on the roof,” Ned whispered. “Follow quietly.”

  Without awaiting a reply, Ned smoothly boosted himself onto the windowsill and disappeared onto the roof. Momentarily stunned, Jason again heard the creak of stealthy footsteps in the hall, this time just outside his door. The handle turned gently. It was locked.

  Jason ducked under his hammock and climbed stealthily onto the windowsill, glancing at the fifteen-foot drop to the dim ground. Why did the little inn have to be on stilts? Standing awkwardly, Jason reached up for the eaves above his window. Ned caught hold of him and helped pull him onto the roof, where Rachel sat waiting, as promised.

  Following Ned’s example, they lay flat, listening. A gentle scrape of metal against metal suggested someone picking a lock. Jason heard a door creak open, followed by hurried footsteps.

  “He’s not here,” a man exclaimed in a loud whisper.

  “Maybe he escaped this way,” a different voice said, right below Jason, at the open window.

  “And flew out to sea,” the first man spat sarcastically. “Come along.”

  They clomped out of the room, and Jason heard the door to Rachel’s room crash open. Footsteps shuffled noisily, all pretense at stealth gone.

  “Nothing,” a voice said.

  “What did you expect?” the other voice chided.

  Heavy feet clomped hurriedly away.

  Ned held a finger to his lips. The three of them waited in silence. Finally, Ned spoke. “You have a friend.”

  “What do you mean?” Jason asked.

  “A riderless horse wandered into town this evening. I went up the Overland Loop, found a conscriptor facedown on the roadside. Stab wounds in the back. Dead mangler not far off. Such a thing has not been seen in some time. I dragged the corpses deep into the woods. You have a friend out there. Strange folk in town tonight. Leave by the main road. That way may be clear a while. You never knew me.”

  Ned crept across the roof in a crouch. Nothing creaked. He dropped out of sight.

  “How late is it?” Jason asked.

  “Maybe an hour past nightfall,” Rachel answered. “When Ned showed up at my window, he almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “We should take his advice and get out of town,” Jason whispered. “That was way too close. Do you have the new provisions?”

  “In the satchel,” Rachel said. “I’m ready.”

  “I think Ned dropped onto the porch. That’s probably the only decent way down.”

  Jason and Rachel slunk along the roof to the front of the house, cringing as shingles creaked. By the time they got there, Ned was no longer in view—not on the porch, not down on the street. Jason saw no sign of anyone else, either.

  “It looks clear,” Rachel whispered. “We should move.”

  Jason slid into position to drop from the roof to the porch. Suddenly several of the wooden shingles overhanging the eaves of the house snapped, and he crashed to the porch on his back.

  Lying stunned on the splintery planks, Jason tried to breathe. His lungs refused to function. All he could think was that his back was broken. He rolled onto his side. A feeble croak escaped his lips, then abruptly he was breathing again. Never had the wind been so brutally knocked out of him.

  He sat up, holding still and listening to ascertain if his clumsiness had attracted attention. Both the house and street remained quiet.

  Rachel dropped down lightly beside him. “Good thing I’m carrying the explosives,” she whispered.

  Jason drew a shuddering breath. “No kidding. Let’s get off this porch before somebody comes.”

  They hurried down the rope ladder. The night was overcast. They moved quickly along dark streets, light bleeding through a few shuttered windows. Jason stayed a step ahead of Rachel, one hand inside his cloak, fingering his knife. The moving windows of the Tavern-Go-Round flashed from the slope above the town.

  Jason thought he knew the road Ned had meant. The road he and Rachel had followed into town left the village angling toward the northeast.

  As he passed quiet houses, Jason heard the lapping of the water in the harbor and the distant crash of breakers. A goat bleated from a pen beside a shadowy house with a big anchor half-buried in the front yard. Jason jumped, drawing his knife.

  When they reached the main road, Jason set a brisk pace, taking long, quick strides. Rachel stayed silently at his side. For a good while they mounted a steep incline. The night was so dark they proceeded by feel and by faith that there would be no obstacle in the road. Like a dead mangler. Or a live one.

  When dawn began to turn the sky gray, they took a break, ravenously devouring some of their newly acquired bread, sausages, and cheese. Jason eyed the energy berries the loremaster had given him. They showed no sign of spoiling, so he decided to conserve them.

  As daylight brightened the overcast sky, Jason and Rachel resolved to walk the day away before sleeping. Around noon they ate again. While they were eating, a wagon appeared up ahead on the road. Jason and Rachel rushed for cover, ducking out of sight in the trees, remaining hidden until well after the wagon had rattled past.

  A couple of hours after lunch they walked through a small village of tall, steep-ro
ofed buildings constructed of stone and mortar, all crowded close together. A few were shops; most were residences. All of the buildings looked old. People watched them as they passed, their suspicious glares burning into Jason.

  He noticed a group of young kids laughing as they played a game that involved throwing rings around a pair of stakes in the ground. A few of the kids chased one another. One spun in place until she got dizzy and fell down.

  Jason frowned. This world was no place for children. What sort of future would these little ones have?

  “Maybe we should have gone around the town,” Rachel muttered, “made our way through the woods.”

  “Too late now,” Jason answered.

  By the time the sun was setting, both Jason and Rachel were trudging along wearily. They roamed a good distance off the road and swallowed a few bites of food. Jason threw himself down in his blanket between the sprawling roots of a thick tree with smooth brown bark and fuzzy green leaves shaped like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

  “I’ll take first watch,” Rachel yawned.

  “I can,” Jason offered, half asleep.

  “I’ve got it. You rest. I’ll wake you soon.”

  CHAPTER 11

  FERRIN

  The following morning Jason awoke to something tickling his face. He brushed his cheek and sat up quickly. A shiny red centipede longer than his middle finger lay upside down on the ground beside him. The creature wriggled over and disappeared under a root.

  Jason shivered. How long had that thing been crawling on him? One of the little drawbacks to sleeping out in the open.

  Sitting up, he looked over at Rachel, sound asleep, wrapped in her cloak and blanket. Had she ever awakened him for his watch? He didn’t think so. Could she have fallen asleep on guard? She looked pretty and vulnerable, lying there serenely. He felt a sudden desire to protect her.

  Famished, Jason started rummaging for food. Although he tried to be quiet, the noise disturbed Rachel, and she sat up, gasping and blinking. After looking around for a moment, she turned to Jason. “I’m so sorry! I don’t remember falling asleep!”

  “We survived,” Jason replied.

  Rachel squeezed fistfuls of her blanket, her jaw tight. “Take off your socks,” she said bravely.

  “It might be hard to get them off. They feel pretty stiff.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Seriously, I might need your help. Some of my blisters popped yesterday. The socks feel plastered to my soles.”

  “I feel bad enough. You don’t need to rub it in.”

  Jason had to admit she looked miserable. “Tell you what. We were exhausted. And I got a warning the first time I fell asleep on watch. You deserve one also.”

  Rachel scowled. “I don’t deserve a break. I could have gotten us killed.”

  “Next time you blow it, you will smell and taste my socks. Same goes for me. No mercy from now on. Have some breakfast. We should get back on the road.”

  As they proceeded, the forest dwindled to meadowland, still interspersed with groves of trees, but primarily featuring broad expanses of brush and wild grass. From the position of the climbing sun Jason could tell that the road was generally bending northward.

  Around midmorning Jason and Rachel came to a crossroads. This was no footpath branching off the main thoroughfare—it was the junction of two major roadways. A tall post with a crossbeam lashed near the top marked the intersection. A bag hung from the crossbeam, well out of reach.

  Jason paused, hands on his hips. The roads joined at right angles, and all looked to be in good repair. “Which way?”

  “West would take us back toward the Blind King,” Rachel said. “And we came from the south. So north or east.”

  “Ned called this road the Overland Loop. That might mean if we continue north, it will circle back to where we started following it.”

  “Hello?” called a weak male voice, startling both of them.

  Jason turned in a circle. Nobody was in sight, and there did not appear to be any cover for a good distance. “Who said that?” he asked sharply.

  “Praise the fates,” the voice cried, gaining strength. “Help me. I’m up here.”

  Rachel shared a befuddled glance with Jason. “Could that have come from the sack?” she asked.

  “Sounded like it.” Jason stared up at the bag dangling from the crossbeam. The sack looked barely large enough to hold a bowling ball. Jason raised his voice. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Ferrin,” the voice responded, muffled by the bag. “I’m a displacer. A gang of ruffians robbed me and left me here to die. Please get me down.”

  “How do you fit in the bag?” Rachel asked, baffled.

  “Like I said, I’m a displacer. I understand you may not be terribly fond of our kind, but please don’t leave me here to rot.”

  “We come from far away,” Jason said. “We don’t know what displacers are.”

  “It’s unkind to tease the helpless.”

  “We’re serious,” Rachel assured him.

  “They chopped off my head and buried my body. Things like that don’t kill displacers. Parts severed from my body remain linked by cross-dimensional connections.”

  Jason gazed at the sack in disbelief. “So just your head is in there?”

  “Yes, and I’ll be just fine once you reattach me to my body.”

  “Where is your body?” Rachel asked.

  “Hard to say. I can feel that I was buried. I could tell they didn’t take me far. Look around.”

  Jason and Rachel searched the surrounding area. Off at a diagonal between the northbound and eastbound roads Rachel noticed a rectangular patch of churned-up earth. “I think I see where they buried you.”

  “Good. Go exhume me, and I’ll help you get my head down.”

  “You still have control over your body?” Rachel exclaimed.

  “My body doesn’t feel disconnected,” Ferrin explained patiently. “Blood from the heart in my body under the ground is still flowing into my head up here. The air I breathe in this sack is still filling my lungs. All my nerves remain in contact with my brain. That is what makes me a displacer.”

  “And you can reattach your head?” Jason asked.

  “Nothing could be simpler. Coming apart doesn’t serve much purpose unless you can put yourself back together. But I need you to dig me up first.”

  “Should we do this?” Jason whispered to Rachel.

  “We can’t just let him die,” she replied softly.

  “What if he’s lying? What if he’s a criminal?”

  “Then he’s probably on our side.”

  Jason and Rachel shed their cloaks. Crouching in the freshly turned soil, Jason began scooping away loose dirt with his hands, getting gritty bits of earth under his fingernails. Rachel set to work alongside him. The hole had been recently filled, so the dirt moved easily. Before long they reached the body, maybe three feet under, lying supine. They worked to clear the soil from atop the length of the body, mounding it off to either side. Soon the body sat up and started helping.

  Jason and Rachel stepped away from the hole as the headless body clambered out like some monstrosity from a horror movie. Hearing about a headless body from a voice in a sack was one thing—watching a headless body rise from a shallow grave was another.

  “I can’t see a thing through this sack,” Ferrin declared. “Could one of you lead my body over here?”

  Rachel shook her head and gestured for Jason to do it. He approached the body, which stood motionless beside the hole, one hand outstretched. It wore a gray shirt, canvas pants, and rope-soled shoes, all caked with earth. As Jason drew near, he stared down at the headless neck, observing a perfect cross-section of muscle, skin, fat, blood vessels, bone, the spinal cord, the esophagus—everything. Strangely, no soil clung to the exposed tissue. Measuring himself against the body, Jason found that the neck came up to the top of his chest.

  Jason took the hand of the body and led it over to the gibbet below the bag. “Plea
sure to meet you,” the muffled voice said, while the body shook his hand gratefully. “Can you see how they fastened me up here?”

  Rachel approached cautiously, keeping her distance, an expression of morbid fascination on her face.

  “A cord holding the bag shut is looped over a hook,” Jason said.

  “Can you reach it?” Ferrin asked.

  “Not even close.”

  “Could you reach if I put you on my shoulders?”

  “I think so, but I don’t want to scramble your insides. What if I hurt your spinal cord or something?”

  “Don’t worry. The displacement field that keeps me connected protects the exposed portions of my anatomy.”

  The body crouched down.

  “I’m not sure I could balance on you without a head there. Plus I’m taller than you. Why don’t you climb on my shoulders? You should be able to unhook the bag by touch just fine.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Jason knelt down, and the body, feeling its way, sat on his shoulders. Rachel came forward and helped Jason stagger to his feet. He moved under the bag.

  “I have it,” Ferrin announced.

  Jason knelt again, and the body dismounted. The body opened the mouth of the bag, removed the head by the hair, and held it so that it could see Jason and Rachel.

  “Many thanks,” the head said. “You saved my life.”

  “Our pleasure,” Jason replied.

  Rachel shook her head slowly. “Not to be rude, but this is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Jason couldn’t help agreeing—although, amazingly, crazy things were starting to feel almost expected now.

  The body set the head on the stump of the neck. Head and body instantly fused together without any mark to suggest they had ever been separated. Ferrin had a black eye and scrapes on his forehead and left cheek.

  “Better?” Ferrin asked.

  “Less weird,” Rachel acknowledged gratefully.

  Jason smiled. “I’m Jason. This is my sister, Rachel. Looks like you got beat up.”

  Ferrin flashed a lopsided smile. “The price I pay for being wizardborn.”

  “Was your father a wizard?” Rachel asked.

  “Are you two as naive as you act?” Ferrin asked. “How can that be?”