A World Without Heroes

by Brandon Mull

  “Don’t say my name so loudly,” Jason muttered in a low voice as he drew near. “We don’t want to stand out.”

  “Oh,” Ferrin replied in an equally cautious tone. “Then you might want to rethink the elaborate carriage bearing the royal crest. Would you prefer I address you as chancellor?”

  They went inside together.

  “You know I became chancellor?”

  “News of that sort travels on wings.”

  “Do you know Copernum tried to kill me?” Jason asked.

  “No. You’re ahead of that news. I wish I could pretend to be surprised. Now the same man has tried to kill each of us and failed. I guess that seals our friendship.”

  “Copernum ordered your execution?”

  “Who else? I stole his cousin’s fiancée, then killed his cousin in a duel. To clarify, the cousin insisted on the duel, and I fought fair. You hungry?”

  Jason nodded. “What happened to the girl?”

  “She found out I was a displacer.” Ferrin flagged down a barmaid and ordered food.

  Jason got out two gold pellets and two silver. “Here is your money back. With interest.”

  “Keep the excess,” Ferrin said. “You weren’t an investment.”

  “I can spare it,” Jason said. “I grabbed a lot of money. Well, technically, an attendant grabbed it for me. Amazing the funds you can access as chancellor!”

  Ferrin accepted the pellets. “I’ll hold these until you need them.”

  “Any word from Rachel?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “We didn’t stay together. I had no way to contact her. I hope she comes here.”

  “She’ll come when she hears you fled.” Ferrin tapped his knuckles against the tabletop. “Hopefully, she’s already on her way. It would be hard to outpace a coach and six.”

  “You still want to join us?” Jason asked.

  “Are you truly abandoning the chancellorship?”

  “One assassination attempt was enough.”

  Ferrin raised his eyebrows and smiled. “The regent will be furious. Don’t ever go back.”

  “I wouldn’t enjoy working for Dolan. He seems like a coward.”

  Ferrin glanced hastily around. “Chancellor or not, lower your voice to express such things. We’re still well inside the domain pertaining to Trensicourt. Some men would duel you over an insult to their ruler. Not that I’m disagreeing. Copernum ran that circus, and will again soon enough, I expect.”

  “So do you still want to come with us? I’m becoming a bigger target every day.”

  “Why do you think I was waiting here?”

  “We’re going to Whitelake,” Jason said. “Do you know how to get there?”

  “Whitelake? That’s a little remote, isn’t it? Not much of a town.”

  “We need to go to the actual lake, not just the town.”

  “Are we sightseeing? I’ve never gazed upon the actual Whitelake. It involves a climb. But if that’s where you want to go, I’m willing.”

  “I have the coach,” Jason said. “That should save us some time. I guess we just wait for Rachel?’

  “Is the little driver the only man accompanying you?”

  “Yes.”

  Ferrin stretched his arms. “In a coach like that, Whitelake is only a day or two away. The horses look amazing.”

  “The driver will take us far,” Jason said. “I actually left with permission from Dolan.”

  “What? How?”

  “I got invited to the Eternal Feast.”

  Ferrin blinked and shook his head. “Excuse me?”

  “Dolan pushed me to accept. I basically told him I would, and he provided the coach.”

  “But you’re declining the invitation?”

  “No.”

  “Are you daft? Why not? Wait, why would you get the invitation in the first place? What have you been doing?”

  Jason shrugged. “I guess because I became chancellor and survived the assassination attempt.”

  “That makes sense. Dolan has strong ties to Felrook, as does his former chancellor. They must have wanted you out of the picture in order to reinstate Copernum. But why not accept? Do you know how easy your life would be?”

  “It might not be as great as everybody imagines,” Jason said. “Nobody who goes there returns. The food might be good, but to me it sounds like a prison.”

  “Maybe,” Ferrin mused. “Still, as prisons go, Harthenham would be my pick ten times out of ten. You’re an interesting person, Jason. There is more to you than a glance would reveal. Who knows how long we’ll be waiting for Rachel? Could be hours, might be days. You should instruct your driver to see to the horses and get himself some food.”

  “Good idea,” Jason said.

  “I’ll wait here.”

  On his way out the door Jason noticed a pair of riders loping up the street. One was Rachel.

  “Jason!” she called as they made eye contact.

  Jason waved, relief flooding through him. As she approached, he realized how worried he’d been that she might have been hurt.

  The riders pulled up near him, and Rachel dismounted. She wore new traveling clothes that actually fit her.

  “Is this your destination?” the man asked, a rugged character with a crooked nose.

  “Yes, thank you, Bruce.”

  “Very well. Safe journey.”

  Taking the reins of her horse, he rode away.

  “Who was that guy?” Jason asked quietly.

  “My escort,” Rachel whispered back. “Nicholas took care of it. He’s been much more helpful than he acted when we first met him.”

  “Once we left his shop, I thought we’d never hear from him again.”

  “Apparently Copernum linked him to us. And Copernum suspects we’re Beyonders. Nicholas decided that the best way to strengthen his position was for us to succeed and escape. We met in person two more times, and he sent several notes. He was thrilled that you defeated Copernum and pleased that you survived the assassination.”

  “It was so freaky,” Jason said. “You wouldn’t believe it. I slept under my bed, and this guy came in and tried to stab me with a poisoned knife, but got my bodyguard instead.”

  “You’re okay?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m fine. I’m glad you got away safely. I was worried.”

  Rachel blushed slightly. “You got the syllable? I didn’t wait around to hear.”

  “The third is ‘fex.’ I saw it inside the lorevault as well.”

  “Good question?”

  “Great question.”

  “Is Ferrin here?”

  “He’s waiting inside.”

  Jason told the coachman that they would have a meal and then proceed to Whitelake, inviting the driver to get food and make whatever preparations he deemed necessary for the horses. Then Jason and Rachel entered the Stumbling Stag. They reached Ferrin’s table at the same time as the barmaid.

  “Perfect timing,” Ferrin said. “Rachel can have my food.” He ordered another meal.

  “I won’t take your food,” Rachel said once the barmaid left.

  “If you ignore the meal, it will get cold and stale. Eat,” Ferrin insisted. “While you’ve been busy, I’ve been resting. So tell me, Rachel, have you married a prince and become the future queen of Kadara?”

  “My time in Trensicourt wasn’t quite as interesting as Jason’s,” she said. “But it was stressful enough that I’m relieved to get away.”

  “Leave city life to the masochists,” Ferrin said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s the open road for us!”

  CHAPTER 16

  WHITELAKE

  On their second afternoon after leaving the Stumbling Stag, Rachel stared out the coach window, trying to ignore the headache all the jerking and jouncing had created. They had reached rocky country with tall trees, steep hills, and rushing streams, and had not passed through a town all day.

  She glanced over at Jason, who was trying ineffectively to
nap. If he couldn’t sleep, she knew it was a rough ride. What a funny guy. At first he hadn’t struck her as the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she was starting to realize she could have gotten trapped in a parallel world with somebody much worse. She could hardly believe he had managed to become chancellor. Had he asked her the same question, she might have topped him. “Squirreled” had ten letters, although some people argued it wasn’t a single syllable.

  Her gaze shifted to Ferrin. The displacer had been their best find so far. He was the perfect guide—knowledgeable, skillful, and well traveled. Plus he was funny and not bad-looking. He acted so grateful for their friendship it made her furious at the rest of Lyrian for discriminating against his kind.

  He noticed her looking at him. “The farther we get from Trensicourt, the less we want this coach,” he said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the clatter of their motion.

  “We should start walking before my teeth rattle out of my head,” Jason replied.

  “I warned you we’re heading into remote country,” Ferrin reminded him. “The roads will only get worse, and the inhabitants less lawful. We’ve passed beyond the orderly kingdom of Trensicourt. This is a wild territory. Without an armed escort our coach will inevitably draw bandits. Out here a smart man wears a hard face and conceals his wealth.”

  “Sounds delightful,” Rachel said.

  “I’d prefer to avoid the town of Whitelake,” Ferrin said. “It is no place for a pretty girl. The communities out in the wildlands are full of trappers, hunters, traders, and miners. Not to mention gamblers and outlaws. Many of them will take advantage of a stranger, given the opportunity.”

  “When do we ditch the coach?” Jason asked.

  Pulling aside the curtains, Ferrin leaned out the window. “Before long we’ll reach a trail that will lead us to the lake. It won’t accommodate the coach, but the walk should require less than a day.”

  “How steep is the climb?” Jason asked.

  “Nothing perilous,” Ferrin assured him. “People stay away from Whitelake because it’s cursed, not because of the ascent.”

  “Cursed?” Rachel asked.

  “Supposedly the lake is bewitched,” Ferrin said. “Even the hardy folk of the wildlands keep their distance, which should prevent us from meeting much interference.”

  “We need to get to the island in the middle of the lake,” Jason said.

  “The island?” Ferrin exclaimed. “Why? Are you on a tour of the most dangerous and inaccessible places in all the land?”

  “What makes you say that?” Rachel asked.

  “Nothing floats on Whitelake. Not boats, not insects, not dust. Certainly not people. Everything sinks. Nobody knows how deep it is. Folks in town claim it goes down to the center of the world.”

  “But you’ve never actually seen the lake?” Jason checked. “No,” Ferrin responded. “You think people might be exaggerating?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Jason said.

  Ferrin kept peering out the window. Half an hour later, pulling up the hood of his cloak, he called for the driver to halt. After they climbed down and collected their gear, Jason told the driver to return to Trensicourt.

  “Are you certain, my lord?” the driver asked, eyes darting to Ferrin’s hooded form. “Begging your pardon, this is far from the destination I anticipated, an uncivilized stretch of wilderness where you might come to harm.”

  Rachel had not heard the driver utter a complaint as Jason had issued prior instructions. Evidently, the man had reached his limit.

  “I’m sure, Evan,” Jason said. “I need to take a few detours before I go where Duke Dolan probably told you I was heading.”

  With practiced skill Evan produced a crossbow and pointed it at Ferrin. “If this man is trying to coerce you, I can take care of him, my lord.”

  “No, Evan, he’s a friend,” Jason assured the coachman. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m really here on purpose. You can tell the regent that I’m just taking care of some unfinished business.”

  Evan lowered the weapon. “Very well. Safe journey, my lord.”

  “You too, Evan,” Jason said.

  The driver flicked the reins, and the coach rumbled forward.

  “How is he going to turn the coach around?” Rachel asked. The road looked much too narrow.

  “He’ll forge ahead until he finds a clearing,” Ferrin said. “Come, we should get away from the road before nightfall.”

  The next morning, from a craggy hilltop, Ferrin pointed out the town of Whitelake, a rough-hewn settlement of log structures a few miles from the base of a squat, conical mountain. Golden-brown prairie land surrounded the town, beyond which forested hills and ridges continued into the distance.

  “Where is the lake?” Jason asked.

  “Atop the mount,” Ferrin said.

  “It looks like a squashed volcano,” Jason said.

  Ferrin rubbed his chin. “Volcanic activity might help explain tales of an unnatural lake.”

  They descended the hill and started across the open, grassy plain separating them from the mount. Rachel noticed that Ferrin kept checking behind them.

  “Think we’re being followed?” Rachel asked.

  “Almost certainly,” Ferrin said. “It’s a single person, staying well back, I’ve half glimpsed him a few times. He might just be a hunter watching to ensure we leave his territory alone. Maybe he’ll veer off now that we’ve left the forest.”

  “And if not?” Jason asked.

  Ferrin shrugged. “Could be a scout for a team of bandits. Could be a tenacious spy from Trensicourt. Could be an agent of the emperor. Hard to guess.”

  “Let’s hope he’s a shy, lonely fisherman,” Jason said.

  “The mountain doesn’t look too hard to climb,” Rachel noted, looking ahead.

  “True,” Ferrin agreed. “The slope all around the mountain is strangely regular—fairly steep but never sheer. Anyone behind us will have a nice view of our ascent. But nobody will be able to sneak up on us.”

  They crossed the grassland without incident and started up the mountain. The slope was steep enough that hiking up it felt like climbing stairs. Rachel bent forward like Jason, using her hands as she advanced. Partway up they took a lunch break, having already gained an impressive view of the plains and forest behind them. As they finished, Ferrin announced that they seemed to have lost their tracker.

  When they finally arrived at the top of the slope, Rachel’s legs ached, and her back felt sore from crouching forward. Perspiration dampened her face. But her discomfort was forgotten at the sight of the odd lake.

  The top of the broad mount looked like the round caldera of a volcano, filled almost to the rim with sludgy white fluid. A small island, little more than a rock pile, poked up near the center. The surface of Whitelake was unnaturally smooth. Heat radiated from the lake, making the air shimmer. A smell like overboiled eggs permeated the air.

  “Come,” Ferrin said, proceeding to the edge of the lake. Jason and Rachel joined him.

  Ferrin held up a small, flat piece of wood, displaying it as a magician might before performing a trick. He handed it to Jason. “Light, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would normally float on water?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Let’s see what happens here.” Ferrin handed the wood to Rachel.

  She crouched, mindful of the heat radiating from the lake, and gently placed the piece of wood lengthwise on the creamy surface. The wooden fragment sank with hardly a ripple.

  “What is the lake made of?” Jason asked.

  “Not water,” Ferrin replied.

  “Looks like pancake batter,” Rachel said. “Has anyone ever reached the island?”

  “I have no idea,” Ferrin said. “People say Whitelake is cursed. If nobody comes here, and nothing floats on the lake, I can’t imagine anyone has been to that island. Nor can I imagine why you two would want to go there. I’d hate to watch you drown.”

>   Jason glanced at Rachel. “Could we have gotten bad info?”

  “Info?” Ferrin echoed. “Did somebody tell you to come here? Who? Why?”

  Jason crouched, selected a flat rock, and winged it sidearm out onto the lake. It took a huge skip, then another, and several smaller bounces, until it had traveled a very impressive distance. When it lost momentum, the rock finally sank. “Did you see that?” he asked. “The rock skipped like ten times!”

  “Yes,” Ferrin answered in an intrigued tone.

  Jason threw another with similar results. Rachel grabbed a stone, this one less flat, and threw it almost straight down at the water. It rebounded quite high, as if the surface were solid, then took a smaller hop and sank.

  “Weird,” Rachel murmured, taking a stone in her hand and kneeling beside the lake. Holding the stone firmly, she struck the white fluid sharply. The surface felt solid. She pounded it several more times. Nothing splashed. The surface barely rippled. She examined the stone, observing no fluid on it anywhere. Dropping the stone softly into the lake, it sank.

  “The surface hardens against pressure,” Jason observed. “Let’s try a big rock.” Together he and Rachel heaved a heavy stone against the surface of the lake. Sure enough, it rebounded once before losing momentum and sinking.

  Rachel edged forward to the brink of the lake and stomped the surface with her foot. “Feels solid. Only yields a little, like a trampoline strung much too tight.”

  She dipped her foot in slowly. The syrupy lake folded around the bottom of her boot.

  “No!” Ferrin exclaimed, springing forward.

  Once part of her boot sank beneath the surface, an alarming suction pulled it farther. Jerking back sharply, she felt the fluid harden around the submerged portion of her boot, as if it were encased in cement. When she relaxed, the fluid sucked it deeper. Rachel yanked again, hoping her foot would come free of the boot, which was already half immersed, but it was laced too securely.

  Ferrin and Jason reached her side, supporting her. “Pull steadily against the lake, but not too hard,” Ferrin advised.