A World Without Heroes by Brandon Mull

maybe where I should start looking? What do you know about the Beyond? I still don’t really get where I am.”
    The king scratched his cheek. “I can’t say how to access the Beyond. I’m not sure who might be able to tell you. Others have crossed over from the Beyond, though never frequently, and as of late, traffic between our worlds has come to a standstill.
    “I can do my best to orient you. Years ago this particular fiefdom was called Fortaim, and an earl occupied this castle. Fortaim rests upon a peninsula that juts westward from the mainland out into a vast ocean. Following the river westward over the falls, you would have come to the estuary where it empties into the sea. But you went south without a trail until you happened upon the Repository of Learning. From there you came eastward along the peninsula until you arrived at this ruined castle. The river, once called the Telkron, lies a few miles to the north.”
    Jason was impressed. “Who needs a map with you around?”
    The Blind King steepled his fingers. “Once I had eyes, and I used them to travel widely in search of the Word.”
    “How did you lose them?”
    “In a fight with a devious conscriptor. He hurled powdered acid in my face, flaying my skin and stealing my sight. A small inhalation scorched my throat, damaging my voice. The conscriptor captured me. Eventually I came before Maldor. The emperor offered me new eyes. I refused. I would not accept the restoration of my sight at the price of becoming one of his spies. So I was delivered to his tormentors.”
    Jason swallowed. This old king was something serious.
    “Now you must pursue the Word,” the king said.
    “Honestly, I’d rather find a way home.”
    “No doubt you would. Should you encounter a way back to the Beyond, I would be the last to blame you for fleeing our world. We teeter on the brink of destruction. But a path back will be difficult to find. Perhaps impossible. In the meanwhile you should seek the Word. Mark my warning—Maldor already pursues you. Seeking the Word is your sole chance for survival. Remain still, or wander aimlessly, and you will be taken.”
    Jason shifted uncomfortably. He felt no heroic urge to become Blind Lord Jason. “Did you learn much of the Word?”
    “I learned some. More than most, I believe. But the syllables I acquired are lost, along with the memories of where I found most of them. Maldor’s tormentors used relentless conditioning to abolish many recollections. When it comes to the Word, I remember few specifics. But I retain a few fragmented memories on the subject. I still remember Bridonus, and the book itself.”
    “So I should leave, then?”
    “Rest here for the night. There is somebody you must meet, a fellow traveler. Share a meal with us. I will provide further counsel on the morrow. How does roasted pheasant strike you?”
    “I’ve been living off of mushrooms.”
    “Go ring the bell twice. It will summon Chandra, my cook.”
    Jason went to a bell mounted atop a dresser and delivered a pair of sharp blows with the tiny mallet resting beside it.

CHAPTER 5
RACHEL
     
    J ason stood at a narrow window, studying the last embers of the sunset, when a slender man of medium height brought a huge tray to the Blind King’s lofty chamber. A shiny scar interrupted his features, starting above his hairline and curving down his cheek almost to his jaw. Offering no introduction, the attendant moved swiftly and silently, rearranging furniture until a seat awaited Jason across from the Blind King, with a small table between them. With quiet efficiency the man shuttled the contents of the tray to the table. Before long the table held three place settings, a bowl of fruit, a charger brimming with mashed vegetables dusted with spices, a carafe of golden fluid, a pitcher of water, and a platter heaped with slices of white meat.
    “Thank you, Dorsio,” the Blind King said as the attendant picked up the empty tray. “If you would be so kind as to