Shivering, Rachel pulled her cloak tighter. She wondered whether Jason was alive. She wondered if he had used the Word yet. Could Maldor already be destroyed? How would they know if he had been?
Lightning flashed again, temporarily throwing harsh highlights over the landscape. Where was Tark? Could they have taken him? No, he would be back. He always came back.
The rain started pattering hard again. Rachel waited patiently. Eventually she detected the sound of an approaching horse. Or could it be horses? She grew tense as a pair of horses loped into view. Tark sat on one. The other held a taller figure.
“Rachel?” Tark called.
“I’m here,” she answered. “Who’s with you?”
“Drake found us,” Tark replied.
The two men joined Rachel beneath the outcrop. Lightning glared. Sure enough the other rider was Drake.
“How did you find us?” Rachel asked.
“I rode hard,” Drake said. “It was no challenge to follow the patrols on your trail. You create quite an uproar wherever you go.”
“What about Jason?” Rachel asked.
“When I left him, he was entering Felrook for an audience with Maldor. I have kept my ears open but have heard no news since. Perhaps he was not granted an audience. If Maldor had perished, we would have heard.”
Rachel bowed her head. She had hoped that if she and Tark could hang on until Jason destroyed Maldor, everything might change. What now? Could the emperor have killed Jason? No, she would not accept the possibility. They had locked up Galloran—they would lock up Jason as well. He might not be comfortable, but he was probably alive. And if he was imprisoned, eventually they would find a way to rescue him. She had to believe that.
“Drake figured out why we can’t shake our pursuers,” Tark said.
“A lurker is aiding your enemies,” Drake said. “Maldor rarely sends out a torivor. Escape is unlikely, but I will try to help you.”
“What’s a torivor?” Rachel asked.
“I would rather not say,” Drake replied. “They can sense your thoughts. The less you know about them, the better.”
Rachel bit her lip. “What do we do?” she asked.
“The quick answer?” Drake said. “What you’ve been doing. Perpetual motion. If you stop, you will be taken. The time may come for us to split up. For the present we need to ride.”
“They’re not far behind,” Tark said.
Trying to ignore her weariness, Rachel followed Tark and Drake out into the rain. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. Her horse weaved among half-glimpsed trees, heading down a slope. She had almost forgotten what life was like not on the run. She wondered if she would ever feel safe again.
When Jason awoke, he barely opened his eyes. He was back beside the pool in the cave, lying on his side near the edge of the water. His head throbbed.
“Welcome back,” Ferrin said.
“I was trying to play possum,” Jason complained.
“Your breathing changed. Sorry about thumping you on the head.”
“You better be. It’s pretty sore. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been drugged or knocked unconscious lately? I bet I’ve lost a million brain cells.”
“I had no alternative. You must return to the Beyond. I was only waiting for you to awaken so you could hold your breath on the way down.”
Sitting up, Jason saw that a sack was bound to his leg by an elaborate series of knots and lashings. He was dressed in a plain shirt and twill trousers. “Quite a knot.”
“There is no chance you will unloose it before you sink to the Beyond.”
“You took away all of my conscriptor stuff.”
“Better that you enter the Beyond looking nondescript.”
“This outfit will make me look like a hobo.”
Ferrin shrugged. “Best I could do.”
“If you’re Rachel’s friend, tell her the Word is a fraud.”
“I wish I could. I’d be killing both her and myself. Take a deep breath. Farewell.” Ferrin shoved the sack of stones into the water and gave Jason a push as he struggled to rise. Jason caught hold of the displacer’s hand, and both of them plunged into the pool, sinking rapidly.
The water was shockingly cold. Ferrin was above him, being towed deeper underwater headfirst. The displacer thrashed, but Jason had a secure grip. Ferrin jerked and yanked but could not break Jason’s two-handed grasp. Ferrin pulled Jason close and tried to push off with his legs, but Jason kept twisting so the displacer could get no leverage. Meanwhile the bag of rocks pulled the pair swiftly downward. Ferrin went limp. Jason squeezed his hand relentlessly. Looking up, Jason could see lamplight dancing on the surface of the water high above.
Ferrin gave a final jerk, and then all Jason had in his grasp was the hand. Above him, silhouetted against the lighted surface, he saw Ferrin stroking upward.
Jason maintained a tight grip on the hand. It tried to squirm free, to no avail.
Jason continued to sink. His lungs began to clench for want of oxygen. The water was frigid. How could water this cold not be frozen?
Before long he was in absolute darkness. The surface was no longer visible. Maybe, after all he had suffered, he was simply going to drown.
But suddenly something was different. Without changing direction it felt as though he was now rising rather than sinking. Was it an illusion spawned by disorientation? His speed was increasing. The water seemed to be getting warmer and thicker. The bag of rocks no longer pulled him. His lungs burned, but Jason resisted the urge to inhale.
Abruptly he slammed into a yielding surface with great force. He smelled soil and sensed sunlight, although his eyes were closed.
Opening his eyes, Jason found himself lying on his back in a cornfield, soaking wet and covered in dirt. He could not clearly discern whether he had fallen there or risen up through the ground, though it seemed like the latter. Great clods of soil had been dislodged by his arrival, and several tall stalks of corn had been uprooted and scattered.
He sat up, shaken but uninjured, except for his throbbing head.
All he could see in any direction was corn.
He stood, looking around. Endless rows of corn shifted in a gentle breeze beneath the midday sun. Where was he?
“This better be a cornfield on Earth,” he muttered, trying to brush mud from his clothing, succeeding only in smearing it around.
He still had Ferrin’s hand. He set it down and examined himself. His only clothes were the shirt and the pants. They were crude, and the mud made them look much worse. He had no shoes. He hoped he would not have to walk far.
The hand began to crawl across the ground. Jason picked it up and gave it a slap. The fingers opened and closed rapidly as if to express outrage.
“You’re my only souvenir,” Jason told the hand. “I hope you realize I have to get back there somehow.”
Jason shoved the hand into one of the two deep pockets in the front of his trousers. Whenever it moved, Jason slapped it firmly.
It took Jason ten minutes to unbind himself from the sack of stones. He checked inside the bag, to be sure he wasn’t leaving anything interesting behind. It only contained rocks. He took out the rocks and placed the hand in the bag.
Jason struck off in a straight line. He figured if he went straight long enough, he would find civilization. Somebody had planted and was tending this corn. Eventually he would reach a road.
Before long he came to a farmyard. It had a nicely painted house and a barn. A couple of trucks and four-wheelers were parked in the big driveway. A tire swing hung from a branch. Some toy cars had been left near the swing. Ferrin had been right. This was Earth.
For so long all he had wanted was to get home. But now all he could think about was getting back to Lyrian. He couldn’t leave Rachel stranded there! He couldn’t deprive his friends of the knowledge he now possessed!
He went to the front door of the house, opened the screen, and knocked. A middle-aged woman in a sleeveless shirt answered th
e door. “Can I help you?”
He suddenly felt unsure what to say. All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t tell the truth. “Hi. My name is Jason Walker. May I please use your telephone?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am thrilled to have the first book in the Beyonders series written and into the hands of readers. This series has been in development for more than ten years, and I’m looking forward to sharing the two upcoming installments. This first book has been through many drafts over several years. When I first attempted to write it, I did not yet have the ability to tell the story effectively. I believe that it has finally become what I was initially aiming for. Hope I’m right. Anyhow, many people have encouraged me and helped me along the way.
First off, my wife, Mary, helped me create time to write the first draft of this story back before I was getting paid to write, so the biggest thanks goes to her. Without her support, this series specifically, and my writing career in general, may never have happened.
Huge thanks also go to my editor at Simon & Schuster, Liesa Abrams. She helped me find some key characters and moments to add, and provided smart feedback on issues large and small. She deserves credit for helping me get this book finished and polished. Smart lady.
Simon Lipskar, my awesome agent, got this project organized, and has provided important feedback on the story as well. The whole team at Simon & Schuster deserves lots of credit, including Mara Anastas, Fiona Simpson, Bess Braswell, Bethany Buck, Anna McKean, Paul Crichton, Lucille Rettino, and Lauren Forte. Sammy Yuen Jr. and Lisa Vega deserve big high-fives for designing a cool cover.
Many other readers contributed to the story. Some read early versions years ago—others read more recent updates. These readers include Mary Mull, Bryson Mull, Cherie Mull, Summer Mull, Pamela Mull, Gary Mull, Jason and Natalie Conforto, Dean Hale, Randy Davis, Jake and Dion Gulbransen, Chris Schoebinger, Tony Benjamin, Lisa Mangum, Liz Saban, Nancy Fleming, Sean Fleming, Mike Walton, Ryan Hamilton, and any others I may have missed. Tucker Davis provided a meticulous read and extensive notes. Very extensive. I practically have post-traumatic stress syndrome.
Thanks also to my amazing family, especially my kids: Sadie, Chase, Rose, and the new one who isn’t named yet, maybe Calvin Emmett, we’ll see. Also Tiff, Ty, Cy, Marge, the cousins, the nephews, the nieces, the aunts, the uncles, and the in-laws. Especially the mother-in-law, who recently provided a very memorable moment while hiking in the canyon near my home, when she laid down on a high trail and puked off a cliff. True story.
And thank you, reader, for trying this book. I hope you liked it. If you did, don’t miss the next two! Also if you liked it, please spread the word. People telling other people means everything for books. Visit me online at BrandonMull.com or on Twitter.
SO. . . WHAT NEXT?
Welcome to the end of the first book in the Beyonders series. I’ll be writing two more books in order to finish the story I started with this one. The second book, Seeds of Rebellion, will be out in spring 2012, then the third will follow in spring 2013. I have the rest of the story all figured out—the next two books will build on this first one in cool and exciting ways.
In the meanwhile, I do have some other books already published. If you haven’t tried my Fablehaven series, those books are fun as well. It’s about a brother and sister who discover that their grandparents are the caretakers of a secret wildlife park for magical creatures. The whole series is already finished, so there are five books waiting to be read. I’ve written one other novel so far, called The Candy Shop War, and a picture book called Pingo.
Thank you, reader, for trying A World Without Heroes. To stay updated, feel free to visit BrandonMull.com and to follow me on Twitter.
Brandon Mull, A World Without Heroes
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