A World Without Heroes (62 page)

The silence was oppressive. He began singing songs. Songs from the radio. Television theme songs. He hummed themes from movies.

He wiggled his body as much as he could. It was tough being encased in such a tight space. The only sounds came from his voice. The only smells were musty iron and his own sweat. The perfect darkness left nothing to look at.

After a long time he heard a door open. He heard footsteps; then a hatch over his face opened. The torchlight was blinding until his eyes adjusted.

A pliable hollow tube brushed against his lips. He could see a hand holding the tube. “Drink,” a male voice said.

Jason sucked on the tube and eventually began swallowing water. He paused, then drank more. He had not realized how thirsty he was. The water tasted flat, but he could not get enough of it.

The tube was removed. Dirty fingers began feeding him cold wads of stringy meat. It was not good. It was too salty and may have been raw, but Jason ate greedily. The fingers gave him stale bread, followed by another sip from the tube. Then the hatch closed, returning him to darkness.

“Hey,” Jason complained. “I have to pee.”

“Then do it.”

“I’ll drown.”

“It’ll drain.”

“Wait, I have some questions—”

He heard the door close.

Time became Jason’s nemesis. He was trapped with virtually no sensory input. He tried to keep himself company. He recited quotes he remembered from movies. He prayed aloud. He sang. He flexed his muscles and wiggled. He slept as much as he could.

Sometimes he thought about the people he had left behind—his parents, his brother, his sister, his baseball team, Matt and Tim. He wondered if his face was on milk cartons. He wondered if he had been on the news. By now there might even be a headstone in some cemetery with his name on it. Wherever they imagined he was, he doubted any of them would guess he was locked within a sarcophagus in the dungeon of an evil wizard.

He thought back over his adventures, marveling how Maldor could have instituted and maintained such an elaborate fabrication.
He wished he could get a message to Galloran that the Word was a fraud. He wondered if Tark and Rachel had completely escaped, and if they had planted Jasher’s seed. He wondered what Drake was doing.

Nobody visited except to bring him food and water. After the few words on the first visit the man who fed him would not speak.

Jason did not know how many times a day he received food. He was losing all concept of time. He thought he was fed twice a day. But it might have been five times a day. Or once a week.

The sixth time the cell door opened since he had been imprisoned in the iron container, Jason was dosing. He awoke at the noise. “I have to . . . um . . . do more than pee,” Jason groaned.

There came no answer.

“Don’t tell me it will drain.”

There was a sound like a body falling to the ground.

“Hello?” Jason called.

The hatch opened. Jason squinted because of the light. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a familiar face peering down at him. Ferrin.

“You look full of goma worms,” the displacer said.

“Full of what?”

“No time to explain.”

CHAPTER
25
DEEP PORTAL

F
errin? What are you doing here?”

“I came to recite original poetry. You’re the perfect audience.” Jason coughed out a laugh. “You’re here to torture me?”

“I bet you love it here. You can just sleep all day.” The displacer winked, then glanced to one side. “Listen, we need to make haste. I have received a new assignment from Maldor. Since I’m leaving, I thought I might bring you along.”

“But how—”

“Pay attention. I’ve done some snooping. I had to take some risks and use up some favors, but I now know of a way to return you to the Beyond. The portal is in a cave not far from Felrook. I am not supposed to know about it, but I figured it out. If you swear you will return directly to the Beyond, I’ll sneak you out of here.”

“But I learned some very—”

“No, no, no. There is no room for negotiation. I have committed some minor deviations against Maldor in the past. All right, some major ones. But never anything comparable to smuggling a prisoner out of Felrook. I need your word on this. If I smuggle you out, will you go directly back to the Beyond? Yes or no.”

“Is this some kind of trick?” Jason asked. “I don’t get why you’re doing this.”

“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.