A World Without Heroes

by Brandon Mull

  “Before you found out what I was, we became friends. I regret how our association ended. I’m doing this to show how sincerely I value you. No trick. You’re stuck. I’ll get you out and send you home. It couldn’t be more straightforward. Yes or no.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Jason heard latches snapping. Ferrin heaved open the heavy lid of the sarcophagus, then helped Jason out.

  Jason was relieved to find he was not too wobbly. He twisted and stretched and rubbed his limbs.

  Ferrin knelt beside a fallen conscriptor and began stripping his gear.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Remove his boots.”

  Jason went to work. The conscriptor breathed gently. “I take it I’ll be wearing his clothes.”

  “Good guess. I think he’s about your size.”

  Soon the conscriptor was undressed.

  “Get clothed,” Ferrin said. “Hurry.” He picked up the naked conscriptor, dumped him into the container, and closed the lid.

  “You knock him out?” Jason asked, pulling on a pair of trousers.

  “Drugged him.” He held up a small crystal vial like the one Maldor had waved under his nose. “A potent solution. I needed to be sure he would stay out for a while.”

  “Thanks for doing this.”

  “I tried to tell you that I remain your friend. Convinced?”

  “More than I was an hour ago. How did you know where to find me?”

  “I’m a spy. Gathering information is my specialty. It helps that I rank fairly high around here. Felrook is a gigantic bureaucracy. Hurry.”

  Ferrin helped Jason arrange his sword, armor, and helmet in proper conscriptor fashion.

  “Stay close to me. Be confident. Your face is inscrutable behind that face guard. Say nothing, even if questioned. If I’m asked who you are, I will say, ‘He is not here.’ That will imply that you accompany me anonymously on a highly secretive mission. Which works well, because Felrook is plagued by such secrecy.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “The only thing that could possibly stop us would be if we encountered Maldor. But that will not happen.” Ferrin wore a chocolate brown robe. He pulled the cowl over his head. “We must move quickly. When Rumus awakens, he will rant and threaten until somebody investigates his claims. By then we need to be far away. You carry the torch.”

  Jason picked up the torch. Ferrin used a long key to open the door.

  A pudgy man was waiting outside. He had matted black hair and a nose like a potato. He was eating stringy meat from a clay bowl when the door opened, but instantly stopped, wiping a greasy hand on his tunic. He nodded submissively at Ferrin.

  “What are you doing out here?” Ferrin demanded.

  “Waiting to feed the prisoner, master.” Jason recognized the voice and the dirty fingers.

  “It appeared you were feeding yourself.”

  The man stared at the ground in shamed silence.

  “Finish it, for all I care,” Ferrin said. “I assume considerable nutrition is required to sustain your girth. We administered a toxin to the prisoner to elicit information. He will not awaken for some time.”

  “Very good, master.” His eyes remained downcast.

  Ferrin led Jason down a hall. Guards opened an iron door, and Ferrin signed a register. Nobody paid particular attention to Jason.

  They mounted a long spiral staircase, passing other iron doors. At the top Ferrin signed another register; then the guards opened a heavy door.

  Without a word Ferrin strode past them, Jason at his heels. He led Jason through a network of passages, then out a heavily guarded door into a courtyard. The soldiers saluted Ferrin. He paid them no heed.

  It was night outside, and overcast. In one portion of the sky a hidden moon made the clouds glow. Covered lamps and cressets shone in the courtyard and on the walls. The paving stones of the courtyard were glossy with moisture, but no rain was currently falling. Jason breathed deeply of the fresh, humid air. He had never felt so happy to be outside.

  Jason followed Ferrin across the yard toward an enormous gate. A man wearing a long chain-mail hauberk approached them. “Who goes there?”

  Ferrin lowered his cowl.

  “Ferrin, you’re dressed to travel,” he said. He had a scar that ran through his upper lip.

  “Sorry night for it.”

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “He is not here.”

  “Come off it. Who is he?” The man squinted at Jason, as if trying to penetrate the visor of the helmet.

  Ferrin glanced around, never looking directly at Jason. “I see no one.”

  “Have it your way. Travel well.”

  Ferrin led Jason to the great gate and spoke briefly with a guard, who let them out through a narrow postern door. It began to sprinkle as they made their way down the slick switchback. By the time they reached the landing at the bottom and boarded a small ferry, the rainfall had become drenching.

  Ferrin in his hooded robe stood silent beside Jason in his borrowed armor, the only passengers on the ferry, watching the raindrops disturb the lake by the light of a lantern as the craft advanced toward the shore. Jason shivered. The dampness magnified the chill.

  The craft landed, and the two passengers disembarked. They walked along a quay to a low building with a slanted roof. Jason waited under the eaves while Ferrin went inside. A young man exited the building and jogged off into the rainy night.

  When the young man returned leading a pair of horses, Ferrin came outside.

  “Ready to ride?” Ferrin asked. Something in his intonation warned Jason to try to seem like an experienced horseman.

  Jason put a foot in a stirrup and swung onto the saddle. His days riding with Jasher had left him feeling much more comfortable on horseback. Ferrin led the way.

  As they approached, the gate in the wall protecting the ferry opened. Ferrin and Jason trotted out, Jason squeezing his mount with his knees, trying not to be jounced too much by the jerky gait. The gate closed behind them.

  Jason glanced over at the gong. Four big guards flanked it, two under the roof on the platform, two on the steps with hoods up against the deluge.

  Ferrin increased the pace, and Jason followed. Once they left the ferry town behind, the night became almost impenetrably black. Only the muted glow of an unseen moon provided luminance.

  “Stay close,” Ferrin called back. “I know this country well. Even with the weather we’ll reach our destination in a couple of hours.”

  Eventually the rain relented. They followed a narrow lane beneath the cover of trees. Water dripping from overhanging leaves made the rain seem to continue for some time.

  A group of men stepped out into the path, barring the way, one of them lighting the scene by unhooding a lantern. Ferrin reined in his horse.

  “Who goes there?” inquired the lantern bearer.

  “Ferrin the displacer and an unnamed conscriptor, on urgent duty.” He held up a token.

  The soldiers cleared out of the path.

  At length Ferrin left the lane. The horses squelched across a sodden field as the rain began to fall again in large drops. They pressed through damp undergrowth to pass over the shoulder of a ridge, then followed a rain-swollen stream in the dale beyond.

  Ferrin drew up his horse and dismounted near a group of mossy boulders beside a low bluff. Jason did likewise. They tethered the horses, and Ferrin grabbed a bundle from the back of his saddle, leading the way between the largest boulder and the steepest portion of the bluff to the hidden mouth of a cave.

  Ferrin paused just inside the opening to ignite a small oil lamp. Holding the lamp aloft, he led Jason deeper into the cave. They climbed upward for a time and then had to wriggle into a horizontal cleft on their bellies and slither forward for about thirty feet. After that the way widened again, descending until they came to a roomy grotto where long stalactites hung over a placid pool of water.

  “Come look,” Ferrin said, approa
ching the brink of the pool.

  Jason came up to the edge. The water was remarkably clear. By the light of the lamp he could see a long way down, but the bottom was not in sight. “Deep,” he said.

  Ferrin nodded. “This is a gateway. You need to hold a heavy stone so you sink fast. Once you reach a certain depth you will pass through into the Beyond. The portal only works in one direction. You won’t be coming back.”

  Jason dipped a finger into the water, sending concentric ripples across the glassy surface. “It’s frigid.”

  “Sorry, but this is the only way I know to send you home. And you have to go home. Maldor will not rest until you’re recaptured.”

  “Will they link you to me?”

  “Probably. I went into the dungeon using one of my false identities, but I expect to be discovered. When they find me out, I must be able to claim I rescued you to mercifully dispatch you and spare you the agony of the tormentors. I will claim to have dumped your corpse in the sludge pits. When I make that assertion, I need to be certain the lie will never be detected.”

  Jason glanced at the deep water. “That isn’t what you’re doing, is it? Tricking me into killing myself?”

  “No,” Ferrin said gravely. “I know it requires trust, because you will have to sink to a depth beyond the point of no return. But this truly is a portal to the Beyond. One of the last reliable passages from our world to yours. A closely guarded secret. If Maldor knew I was aware of it, I would probably be killed. Jump in holding a heavy stone. You will not return to the surface. But neither will you die.”

  Jason clenched his fists. “I learned something very important from Maldor.”

  “What?” Ferrin asked, clearly eager to uncover a new secret.

  “The Word is a hoax.”

  Ferrin stared. “What do you mean?”

  “He invented the Key Word as a decoy for his enemies. The Word we learned was real, but it had power to kill a different wizard, not Maldor.”

  Ferrin closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He rubbed his forehead. When he spoke, he seemed to be thinking aloud. “That makes perfect sense, but the possibility never entered my mind. The very existence of the Word is a zealously protected secret. Few who serve Maldor have even heard rumor of it. I always thought Maldor was flirting with disaster by not vigorously attempting to remove those who guard the syllables—at least one of them. I assumed they must be protected by some unnamed magic. Now it makes sense.”

  Ferrin opened his eyes. “How did you uncover such a secret?” There was urgency in his manner.

  “I got the whole Word. It didn’t work, and Maldor later explained it was a hoax, when he tried to convince me to join him.”

  “You got the entire Word?” Ferrin exclaimed in flustered admiration. “Well done! I heard you called out something strange when you were brought before the emperor. I assumed it was a guess using whatever syllables you had accumulated. So you had the complete Word, and it failed; then you rejected an opportunity to join Maldor, even though the only alternative was endless torture?”

  Jason nodded.

  Ferrin plopped down on a rock. “That is integrity,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at Jason. “I’ve gotten myself into much more serious trouble than I anticipated.”

  “Why?”

  “You have information that could spoil one of Maldor’s most elaborate and secretive intrigues. I mistook you for a prisoner who had failed to obtain the Word. This alters everything. If Maldor suspects I know what you just told me, I’m finished.” Ferrin rubbed his throat. “Not only that, when he learns I instrumented your escape, knowing what you know, I’m finished.”

  “So join me. Switch sides. We can escape together, take this information to Galloran. We have to stop everyone from focusing their attention on this wild goose chase.”

  “No, no, no.” Ferrin wagged a finger. “Abide by your promise. You go home. My latest mission will take me far away for a time. I will keep an ear to the ground. I may not be implicated. If I am, I’ll have to drop off the map.”

  “They’ll piece it together.”

  Ferrin arched an eyebrow. “I can’t argue. I was spotted leaving with an unnamed conscriptor near the time of your escape. The identity I used when signing the register is one I have employed before. I kept my face hidden in the dungeon, but that won’t be enough, not with how hard Maldor will be looking.”

  “Did the conscriptor know you?” Jason asked. “The one you placed in the sarcophagus?”

  “He did not. That was the main reason I used him. He thought he was coming to observe while I extracted information from you. I kept my face obscured and gave him the same name I signed to the register. Still, he knows enough that when they put together the pieces, I’ll be implicated.”

  “You wouldn’t have rescued me if you knew the whole story,” Jason said.

  Ferrin sighed. “Probably not. I neglected to fully investigate those details. I simply couldn’t imagine you had completed the Word. Still, all the more reason I need to be able to claim I killed you, so Maldor can believe your secret perished with you. I will behave as though you told me nothing. I have kept secrets from Maldor before. Nothing this crucial, but I might be able to do it. Don’t worry about me. One way or another I’ll take care of myself. All you need do now is return home. Isn’t that what you want most?”

  Jason bit his lip. He imagined how relieved his friends and family would be to see him. He considered some of the conveniences of modern life he had once taken for granted—grocery stores, refrigerators, hot showers, air conditioning, toilets. “It was. But this information is so vital. Everyone chasing the Word is wasting their time. And I’d be abandoning Rachel. Maldor is a bad man, who rewards bad people. Would you honestly regret it if someone defeated him?”

  “No, assuming someone worse didn’t take his place. But he will not fall. The Word was his only weakness, and it isn’t real. This is not open to debate. If Maldor finds I’ve set you free, we’ll both be dead sooner than you can imagine. You must leave this world. I’m protecting both of us. We should hurry and find a suitable rock.”

  Jason hesitated. “Okay.”

  They began searching around the perimeter of the pool, looking for a good stone to serve as a weight. Jason tried to pick up a large round one, but it was too heavy. When he turned and looked at Ferrin, he saw the displacer lifting a rock at the edge of the water, his back toward him.

  “How’s that one?” Jason asked.

  “Not bad. I brought you a change of—”

  Jason shoved Ferrin in the back, sending him into the water, and then sprinted toward the mouth of the cave. He fell flat and began scooting through the low cleft, heedless of scratching and bumping himself. As he came out the far side, Ferrin was entering the crack, dripping wet, bearing the lamp. “Wait!” he called. “You stop and I’ll stop!”

  Jason hesitated, looking back through the low gap at the soaked displacer thirty feet away.

  “What are you doing?” Ferrin asked calmly.

  “I have friends who need the information I know. I can’t just abandon Rachel. She’ll think I failed, and try to use the Word. She’ll end up in the dungeon.”

  “You swore you would return to the Beyond if I freed you.”

  “Let me see, have you ever lied to me? I think now we’re even.”

  “I’ll catch you before you reach the horses.”

  “No you won’t.”

  “If I fail, you will get picked up by a patrol. Or get apprehended once you are found missing and the manhunt begins. You’ll end up back in the dungeon.”

  “I might. You might too.”

  Ferrin shook his head in frustration. “At this point Maldor might even send a torivor after you. Have you heard of them? More commonly called lurkers?”

  “I’ve heard the name.”

  “You don’t want to meet one. Trust me. Just go home. This may be your only chance. Don’t pass it up. Saving you probably cost me my life. Don’t you want to
go home?”

  “Believe me, I really do. But not as much as I want to help my friends. Too many good people have wasted their lives chasing a lie. Now I know a way home. I can use it later.”

  “You’ll be dead by sunrise.”

  “I’ve heard that one before.”

  Ferrin sighed. “Fine, you win. If you’re adamant about staying here, let me come with you. I can guide us to safety.”

  “Sorry, Ferrin, I can’t trust you. A lie twice believed is self-deceived. You’d never believe who taught me that one. If you really want to help me, catch up with me later, at a time when I can trust your sincerity. I would love to have you on our side.”

  “I will catch you,” Ferrin promised, voice grave.

  “Don’t chase me,” Jason said, picking up a stone. “Do you have any idea how much damage I could do to you while you squirm through there? Ask Duke Conrad.”

  Ferrin paused, frowning. Then he blew out the lamp. Jason could see nothing. He heard Ferrin scrambling, and blindly winged the stone sidearm into the crevice. He turned and hurried toward the mouth of the cave, hands outstretched. Several times he stumbled. Three times he fell hard, only to jump back up and blunder onward.

  He could hear Ferrin fumbling along behind him, gaining ground.

  Jason burst from the mouth of the cave in a wild sprint. Rain fell in a torrent. He could scarcely see. Splashing through puddles and slipping in mud, he wound through the boulders toward where the horses stood tethered.

  A body slammed into him from behind, tackling him with a muddy splash. Jason tried to squirm free. His helmet was jerked off, and as he tried to rise, a sharp blow to the back of his skull knocked him forward, robbing him of consciousness.

  Rachel waited beneath a rocky outcrop, wondering whether Tark would return. Lightning blazed across the sky, and for a flickering instant fir trees strobed into view. Thunder boomed loud and close.

  She smoothed her hand along the neck of her horse. It was not the same horse she had ridden while escaping Harthenham, nor was it the mount she had used after that. She had traveled on foot, in wagon, by boat, and on several different horses as she and Tark led their pursuers on an epic chase. Time and again, when it seemed they had finally gotten away, a new patrol would start after them.