A World Without Heroes (18 page)

“Looks like suicide,” Rachel said, drawing back from the edge.

“Maybe it will look better at low tide,” Jason hoped.

“There will probably just be more rocks poking up,” Rachel said. “You a good swimmer?”

“I’m fine,” Jason said. “I’m no Olympian. How about you?”

“I’m pretty good. I’ve done a fair amount of snorkeling and scuba diving. But no serious cliff diving. This is high.”

Turning, Jason stared back at the slope they had descended, realizing that they commanded a clear view of the lane for miles. At least no manglers or other sinister creatures intent on hacking them into confetti should be able to sneak up on them.

“I guess we wait here for midday,” Jason said, sitting down and settling back against a little wind-warped tree. Hands in his lap, he gazed at the long slope and its serpentine lane.

“Let me guess; you’ll take the first watch? Then we’ll wake up at midnight?”

“I’m not sleepy,” Jason protested.

“Neither am I,” Rachel said, sitting down cross-legged. “So, how do you think we’ll get back up?”

“There must be a way. Maybe the person in the cave knows how.”

“Are we really going to do this? Jump off a cliff and swim into a sea cave? We’ll probably die.”

“What else are we going to do?” Jason asked. “If there were any other option I might take it. But it seems clear that if we abandon this quest for the Word, we’re doomed. I’d rather risk my life than lose it for sure.”

“You believe everything the Blind King told you?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, I think so. It matched what I read in the book, and what I heard from the loremaster.”

“You believe him enough to risk our lives?”

Jason paused. “No. I believe him enough to risk my life. I don’t see why both of us should jump.”

Rachel scratched her arm. “Why do you get to jump? Because you’re the boy?”

“It isn’t a prize; it’s a punishment.”

“It’s something important that needs to be done.”

“Do you just love to argue? If somebody wanted to jump off a cliff instead of me, I’d be relieved.”

“I do want to jump instead of you.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to be nice. And fair. I was the one who read the book. This quest is my fault. Besides, I’m bigger than you, which will give me a better chance of surviving the rough surf.”

The explanation silenced Rachel for a moment. She picked at the small weeds in front of her. “It’s really nice of you to offer,” she finally said. “I can tell you don’t love heights.”

“I don’t like edges,” Jason corrected. “I’m fine if you give me a guardrail or put me in a plane or send me on a roller coaster. Let’s not worry about this for now.” He closed his eyes.

“What exactly is a mangler?” Rachel wondered aloud.

He opened his eyes. “We never really had that explained, did we? I guess something nasty that chops people into sushi. I think we’ll know it when we see it.”

She nodded. “Before we do this, maybe you should tell me the syllable you learned. You know, in case I have to continue alone.”

“Are you trying to jinx us? Thanks for the confidence!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared for worst-case scenarios.”

“You should sell insurance.”

She huffed, standing up. “Fine.”

“Wow, don’t be so touchy.”

“You don’t have to make fun of everything.”

“Maybe we should just enjoy the music of the waves,” Jason placated.

She sat back down.

Jason made himself as comfortable as possible against the contorted tree. “The first syllable is ‘a.’ Just in case.”

“Was that so hard?”

Jason grinned, deciding to quit while he was kind of ahead. Rachel certainly wasn’t a pushover. She had strong opinions, and little fear of sharing them. A good argument could help pass the time, but Jason found himself wondering whether traveling with Rachel would become annoying. If he were going to meet up with somebody from his world, why couldn’t it have been Matt or Tim? They could back him up in a fight, and would be more fun to hang out with. Or if it had to be a girl, why not somebody less obnoxious, like April Knudsen?

The rhythmic crashing of the waves below, like a mighty wind rising and falling with unnatural regularity, lulled him into deep relaxation. Breathing the salt-tinged air, he closed his eyes again.

And woke with a start, Rachel jostling his shoulder. Shadows were small. The sun was high. It was nearly midday. The air was still not warm, though the sun shone brightly.

“Maybe you have narcolepsy,” Rachel suggested as he staggered to his feet.

Jason wiped his eyes. “I just love naps.”

“Well, warn me before you operate heavy machinery.”

Scanning the slope, Jason detected no sign of pursuit. Feeling abashed for having dozed off again, he unlaced his boots and yanked them off.

“What are you doing?” Rachel asked.

“I’m the jumper.” Jason proceeded to disrobe until he wore only his boxers—blue with narrow yellow stripes. He reflected that his boxers and boots were now the only clothes in his possession that he had brought from home.

Rachel had turned away. “Not very shy, are you?”

“I’m wearing boxers. They look like swim trunks.”

She turned and looked at him. “I can do this.”

“You can jump off the next cliff. Don’t be stubborn.”

“You’re the stubborn one,” she shot back.

Jason quietly conceded that she had a point. His parents always accused him of being obstinate. At home he often got his way simply by outlasting everyone else.

“We can flip a coin,” Rachel said.

“Our coins are pellets.”

“No, I have one from our world.” She started searching her pockets. “Winner picks who jumps.”

“Fine.” Shivering, Jason stepped carefully to the edge of the cliff. The sea breeze feathered his cheeks, ruffled his hair. Goose pimples rose all over his body. He folded his arms, rubbing his palms against his sides for warmth.

Far below, the water level had receded. Two rocks shaped like arrowheads stood out clearly now, pointing at each other. To land right between them, he would have to jump outward a good distance.

“Found it,” Rachel said behind him. “Heads or tails?”

“Heads.” He looked back as she flipped the quarter and caught it.

“Tails,” she proclaimed, holding it up with a triumphant grin.

“I lose,” Jason said, turning away from her.

“No, wait!”

Swinging his arms forward, he sprang out into empty space, viscera rising within him as his body plummeted downward in a wild acceleration through chill, salty air. The wind of his fall swept over him as the greenish, foamy water came up fast. With his elbow tucked against his chest, he held his nose, straightened his body, and tore through the surface of the water between the
two giant arrowheads, his feet barely touching the rocky bottom at the low point of his submergence.

The gentle sting of seawater bothered his vision. He was in a long, narrow pit in the coastal floor, well beneath the churning surface. A couple of nearby sea fans swayed with the current. Vivid anemones clung to the rocks. He swam up out of the trench, angling inward toward the base of the cliff. The closer he got to the surface, the more turbulent the currents became.

His head broke the surface, and he gasped for breath. A half-submerged cave yawned directly before him. A curling swell heaved him in that direction, scraping his shoulder against a rough wall of stone. He stroked madly, bumping a knee against an unyielding face of unseen rock.

The ocean drew him away from the mouth of the cave; then the frothy mass of a breaker heaved him forward out of control. He tucked his head, turning helpless somersaults inside the tumbling rush of water, grimly anticipating the moment his skull would burst against a jagged corner of stone.

When the wave was spent, Jason found himself at the mouth of the cave. He clutched a jutting knob of rock to resist being drawn away as the water withdrew. A fresh influx of roiling spume pushed him beyond the mouth into the cave itself. He could not touch bottom, so he swam fiercely, fading back almost to the mouth before a new breaker shoved him in even deeper.

The cave narrowed. The enclosed space magnified the sounds of the surging sea. He scrabbled for handholds to resist the tide and haul himself farther inward. After he traversed a section so narrow he could almost reach from wall to wall, the cave widened into a spacious grotto. Not much light filtered in from the entrance. In the dimness Jason perceived a still, wiry man seated upon a ledge against the far wall, a good ten feet above the water level.

Finding he could now stand, Jason waded over to the far wall, cautious not to slice his bare soles on the rocky ground. Waist-deep water became ankle-deep. Behind him the ocean roared.

Jason stepped out of the water, too close to the ledge to see the man on top. Regular handholds had been chiseled into the rock. “Hello,” Jason called.

No answer. Perhaps the man was asleep. Or dead.

Jason climbed the handholds leading up the sheer face below the ledge. Scents of seawater and stone mingled in his nostrils.

His head cleared the top. The ledge was fairly broad, spanning the entire rear wall of the grotto. The man sat nearby, back to the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, staring at Jason. Tangled gray hair covered his head and face, dangling to his narrow waist. He held a rubbery length of seaweed in his hands.

Jason boosted himself onto the ledge, returning the silent stare.

The man squeezed the seaweed, using both hands to twist it in opposite directions. The action triggered a bioluminescent reaction, bathing the ledge in pale green light.

“Nice cave,” Jason said.

The man grunted.

Jason decided to have a staring contest. His eyes began to burn. The man showed no sign of strain. Jason lost.

The man still did not blink. The grave gaze was disconcerting. “I need help finding a word,” Jason said.

The man nodded fractionally.

“My name is Jason.”

“I am Jugard.”

“So you can speak.”

The man grunted.

“I was sent by Galloran.”

Jugard’s bushy eyebrows twitched upward.

“He said you helped him long ago.”

A slight nod.

“Will you help me learn the Word to unmake Maldor?”

The man stared. Jason lost the contest a second time.

“You heard me, right?”

The stare persisted. Jugard had obviously heard.

Jason scooted around so his back was against the wall as well. He had asked his question. He would look like a jerk if he kept pushing. Apparently the other man needed time to think about his response. Or perhaps he was crazy. Either way, waiting seemed preferable to coercion. Jason shivered, finally recognizing how cold he was.

Minutes passed. Jason stared at his hands, listened to the echoes of surging waves. He quietly wondered if, somewhere high above, Rachel was worried.

Jason glanced sideways at Jugard. The man had set down his seaweed and was busy untangling his matted beard. Muscles danced in his thin, sinuous arms. Jason returned to contemplating his hands. More time passed. He took the silence as a contest. This time he would not blink. Closing his eyes, he began reviewing the bones of the leg and foot. He had a big anatomy test Friday. No, he had already missed it.

“You are wise for one so young,” Jugard said at last. “Most men cannot abide silence. Some fly into a rage. Some become clowns. Some confess all they know. Silence reveals much. I will assist you, Jason, friend of Galloran.”

“How can you help me?”

“What do you know?”

“The first syllable. And I know not to say the Word unless I’m with Maldor.”