A World Without Heroes
Page 111

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.
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.