A World Without Heroes (Beyonders Series #1)by Brandon Mull
Jason tumbles into a quest to save a magical in this #1 New York Times bestselling start to Brandon Mull’s Beyonders fantasy series.
Jason Walker has often wished his life could be a bit less predictable—until a routine day at the zoo ends with Jason suddenly transporting from the hippo tank to a place unlike anything he’s ever seen. In the past
- Editorial Reviews
- Product Details
- Related Subjects
- Read an Excerpt
- What People Are Saying
- Meet the author
Jason tumbles into a quest to save a magical in this #1 New York Times bestselling start to Brandon Mull’s Beyonders fantasy series.
Jason Walker has often wished his life could be a bit less predictable—until a routine day at the zoo ends with Jason suddenly transporting from the hippo tank to a place unlike anything he’s ever seen. In the past, the people of Lyrian welcomed visitors from the Beyond, but attitudes have changed since the wizard emperor Maldor rose to power. The brave resistors who opposed the emperor have been bought off or broken, leaving a realm where fear and suspicion prevail.
In his search for a way home, Jason meets Rachel, who was also mysteriously drawn to Lyrian from our world. With the help of a few scattered rebels, Jason and Rachel become entangled in a quest to piece together the word of power that can destroy the emperor and learn that their best hope to find a way home will be to save this world without heroes.
“Mull elevates the genre, pairing humorous and imaginative scenarios with intelligence and well-written dialogue . . . With "Beyonders," Mull has taken the tried-and-true quest genre and reinvigorated it with a dense but extremely well-written follow-up to his bestselling "Fablehaven" series.”
Los Angeles Times
Read an Excerpt
A World Without Heroes
Over the centuries individuals have crossed from our world to Lyrian in a variety of ways. Although some travelers have journeyed between universes deliberately, normally the sudden voyagers are caught by surprise. They become lost in deep caves and emerge into an unfamiliar landscape. They pass through the natural stone arches that occasionally link our realities. They sink into deep wells, enter passageways near mountaintops, or, less often, crawl through petrified logs. But nobody has ever passed from Earth to Lyrian in a less likely way than Jason Walker.
At the age of thirteen Jason resided in the town of Vista, Colorado. Since his father was enjoying a prosperous career in dentistry, and his older brother had just been accepted to dental school, most of his acquaintances expected Jason would one day become a dentist as well. His parents openly encouraged him in that direction. The expectations had rubbed off, and Jason’s vague plan for life included earning a baseball scholarship to a university where he could begin his quest for a dental degree.
He could not recall ever deliberately choosing this course—he had no real passion for tooth repair. The routine struck him as dull and monotonous. Scraping teeth. Taking X-rays. Applying fluoride. Deep down Jason craved something else.
Ever since he could remember, Jason had felt drawn to animals. He read books about them, watched nature programs, and begged for pets. After he consulted with his father, this passion inspired his interest in a zoology major on the way to his dental degree. Unlike many prospective zoology students Jason actually worked in a zoo. Understandably, he had never imagined that his volunteer job might lead him to an alternate universe.
During an unseasonably warm week in late February, Jason leaned against the railing outside the fast-pitch batting cage at the local sports park. Tim stood in the cage, knees slightly bent, chipping a lot of foul balls as he struggled to regain his timing. Matt, the best hitter on their club team, had gone first, blasting nearly every pitch to the back of the cage with his fluid swing.
“Don’t try to murder the ball,” Jason suggested.
“I’d settle for assault and battery,” Tim grumbled.
On the next pitch Tim crushed a hard ground ball to the left side of the cage. Jason alternated glances between Tim and a labeled image in his biology textbook. He was memorizing the human skeletal system for a test.
“Get your nose out of that book,” Matt murmured to Jason as Tim fouled the next pitch back into the netting.
“I have to head to the zoo after this,” Jason apologized. “I won’t have much time to study today.”
“Trust me,” Matt said, nodding toward their left.
Jason turned his head to find a pair of girls coming toward them. They were April and Holly Knudsen, fraternal twins in his grade at Kennedy Middle School. The girls were not much alike in appearance or interests, especially for twins. Prettier and more studious, April was in three of Jason’s honors classes, including biology. Louder and sportier, Holly held a softball bat in one hand and a batting helmet in the other.
Only two girls at school made Jason feel queasy and self-conscious: Jen Miller and April Knudsen. They were pretty, and smart, and seemed down-to-earth. Jason harbored secret crushes on both of them.
“Hey, guys,” Holly called.
Jason tried to smile. He was suddenly very aware of the textbook in his hands. Would it make him look like a nerd, reading a biology book at the batting cages?
Matt said nothing. He seldom spoke much around girls. Jason tried to make his voice casual. “Hi, Holly. April.”
“Getting ready for your last season before high school ball?” Holly wondered.
Tim whacked a hard fly ball.
“Coach Thayer is already scouting Jason,” Matt said. “He might end up pitching for varsity as a freshman.”
It was true. Jason had hit a growth spurt at the end of sixth grade. His hitting had initially fallen apart as he’d adjusted to his height, while his pitching had started to gain some real speed. He now stood almost six feet tall. His hitting was recuperating, and his fastball was up into the eighties, but his control had suffered.
“Wow, freshmen boys almost never play varsity,” Holly admired. “They almost took state last year.”
“I’m not sure how much I impressed Thayer,” Jason confessed. “My pitches were all over the place.”
“Only one guy on next year’s high school team throws faster than you,” Matt said. “When you throw your best stuff, I can’t hit you.”
“I tense up lately,” Jason admitted with a grimace. Over the past year, during games, he had started to feel very self-conscious, and erratic pitches had been the result. He had blown some games by giving up too many walks, and he’d lost a key game with a wild pitch. He had also hit a few batters, and at the speeds he was throwing, that was a big deal. No opposing batters had been seriously hurt, but they could have been.
At first Jason had assumed the increased speed of his pitches had caused the problem. But then Matt and Tim had begun to notice that he routinely threw better during informal games or practices. It bothered Jason to think that he had lost games because he lacked the guts to throw well under pressure. Maybe the problem came from dwelling on how much others expected from him. Maybe he was expecting too much from himself, fixating on perfection. Or maybe his skills were simply fading.
His friends on the team expected him to overcome his control issues and carry them to glory. But he was not yet the star others expected him to become. He sometimes wished his friends would brag about him a little less.
April pointed at Jason’s textbook. “Are you getting ready for the bio test?”
“I’m trying,” Jason replied.
“What’s the name of your cheekbone?” she quizzed.
He resisted a grin. “The zygomatic arch.”
April raised her eyebrows. “Not bad.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “You guys are such geeks.”
“Geeks rule the world,” Jason countered.
Holly grabbed her sister. “We better get over to the softball cage.”
Jason wanted to ask them to grab a snack or something. Well, specifically, he wanted to ask April, but asking both of them would be less intimidating. They were two girls; he was with two other guys—it would just be a small group hanging out. There would never be a more perfect moment to casually approach April. Who knew, they might end up with a study date for the biology test.
But he couldn’t make his lips move in time. The twins were walking away.
“Hey,” Jason called, feeling awkward, squeezing his biology book. “Do you guys want to grab some food when you’re done?”
Still moving away, Holly pushed her hair back over her ear as she apologized. “We can’t. We have to go to our uncle’s birthday party. Maybe some other time.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Jason said, even though nothing about it was remotely cool.
Behind him Tim exited the batting cage. “You like April?” Tim asked.
Jason winced, stealing a glance over his shoulder. Was he that obvious? “Not so loud. A little, I guess.”
“I think Holly seems more fun,” Matt mused.
Tim tossed Jason the batting helmet. “You’re up. Here’s your chance for back-to-back strikeouts.”
“You’re a riot,” Jason said, sliding on the slightly oversized helmet. A red light glowed near the pitching machine. Jason adjusted the strap on his batting glove, grabbed his bat, entered the cage, and took several practice chops, overswinging at first, then settling into his regular stroke.
“You ready?” Matt asked.
“Go for it.”
The light turned green. Jason crouched into his batting stance, bouncing a little, anticipating the first pitch, trying to ignore the possibility that April was watching. He tended to swing late on the first ball. It hissed out of the pitching machine and blurred past him. He swung way too late.
“He’s a lover, not a hitter,” Tim kidded.
Jason focused. The next ball zipped out of the machine. His timing was right, but he swung too low, and the ball skipped up and back off the bat.
On the third pitch he made a solid connection. The ball rocketed to the rear of the cage, a high line drive.
Matt whistled. “Not bad.”
Jason glanced back at his friends, grinning. Shifting his gaze, he noticed that April was watching her sister enter the fast-pitch softball cage. When he turned to face forward, a ball was streaking toward him. Jason twisted his head just in time to prevent it from striking his face, but the hard sphere thumped against the side of his helmet, knocking it off his head and sending him sprawling.
Artificial turf prickled against his cheek as Jason tried to fathom what had happened. Suddenly Tim and Matt were at his side, asking if he was all right.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, standing up and swaying into Tim, who steadied him.
“You’re out of it,” Matt warned. “You got tagged hard.”
“I’m just a little rattled,” Jason protested, shaking Tim off and heading out of the cage. The ground seemed to be teetering, as if he were balancing at the center of a seesaw. “I just need to sit down.”
Jason plopped onto the bench outside the cage and put his head in his hands. “I should have warned you,” Tim said. “Some of those balls were coming inside for me too. Somebody needs to recalibrate that thing.”
“It isn’t your fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Just bad luck.” He put his face in his hands and massaged the sides of his forehead.
“Maybe we should get you to a doctor,” Matt suggested.
“No, I’m good. It just shook me up a little. Take some swings; I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. Go avenge me. Knock the covers off some balls.”
Jason concentrated on his breathing, trying to ignore the clanging of aluminum bats. He began to feel more centered. He made eye contact with April, who squinted sympathetically. By the time Matt left the cage, Jason could stand without the ground tilting much.
“I want to snag some grub before I hit the zoo,” Jason said.
“Sorry, I’m supposed to meet up with my cousins,” Matt said. “I’ll already be a little late.”
Tim checked his wristwatch. “I can’t go either. You would have been on your own with the twins. My brother is picking me up in about five minutes. We could give you a lift.”
“I have my bike. I’ll catch you guys later.”
Tim and Matt returned the helmets to the counter, while Jason went to the parking lot and claimed his bicycle from the rack. A string of warmish days had melted the snow, even most of the roadside drifts, leaving the streets unseasonably welcoming to cyclists. Although the sky was currently overcast, the temperature remained much too warm for snow. If anything it might rain.
As Jason pedaled up the hill to Anderson’s grocery store, his head began to ache, and he started to feel unbalanced. Rather than push through the discomfort, he opted to walk his bike the rest of the way.
Leaving his bike chained near a soda machine, Jason entered through the automatic door and went to the Chinese food counter off to one side. He ordered the lunch special, and the guy behind the counter spooned orange chicken, beef and broccoli, and chow mein onto a compartmentalized Styrofoam plate. The broccoli was a bright, fluorescent green—a color that would seldom occur in nature. The broccoli always looked that color here, as if it were spray-painted or made of plastic.
After finding a seat at a little table near the deli, Jason started eating. The orange chicken mixed with the chow mein was his favorite, but he only made it through half the food before he began to feel nauseated. He took a long sip of water and rubbed his temples. Then he unwrapped the fortune cookie, cracked it open, and removed the slip of paper. New experiences await on the horizon.
They should be a little bolder, he thought, and assert something like, “You are about to suffer from violent food poisoning.”
Jason headed outside. As he biked farther up the hill, traversing a few crosswalks, his head felt clearer, although a dull ache persisted, pounding a bit as climbing the slope elevated his heart rate. Before long he reached the Vista Point Zoo parking lot. Although the family-owned institution was no match for the Denver Zoo, Vista Point housed a respectable population, with more than four hundred animals representing almost one hundred and sixty species. Typical for an afternoon in winter, the lot was mostly empty.
At his locker Jason pulled on a set of gray coveralls and replaced his shoes with work boots. He was a few minutes early, so he thumbed through his biology textbook. The words seemed a little fuzzy. Closing his eyes periodically, he recited the names of various bones and processes.
Glancing up, Jason noticed the clock. Time to clean the hippo structure.
When he entered the hippo viewing area, Jason paused to admire a glass case on the wall labeled: MONUMENT TO HUMAN STUPIDITY.
It contained various items workers had fished out of the hippo tank over the years: aluminum cans, glass bottles, coins, cigar stubs, two cigarette lighters, a dental-floss dispenser, a pocket knife, a tangled Slinky, a plastic wristwatch, a disposable razor—even a few rounds of ammunition.
Pacing behind his push broom, Jason watched debris accumulate in front of the dark bristles, wondering how some idiot could top the random dangerous items in the display case. Maybe by chucking in a lawn mower. Or a few bars of uranium.
Jason paused to stare over the railing at the enormous hippo resting motionless below the water on the floor of the tank. Hank was the only hippo in the zoo, an adult male with his fortieth birthday coming up in the summer. Jason shook his head. The majestic hippopotamus—hard at work as usual. They might as well replace it with a statue. No visitor would know the difference.
Faintly, on the edge of perception, Jason heard tinkling music rising from the water. Head slightly cocked, he wandered around the area trying to pinpoint the true origin of the sound. As the volume of the music increased, growing richer and clearer to where he could discern different instruments, he returned to the water and had to admit that the melodic strains seemed to emanate from the submerged hippo.
Had they installed underwater speakers in the tank without his knowledge? Some new technique for soothing the obese mammal? Perhaps it was a pathetic attempt to give the hippo more crowd appeal.
The melody was unfamiliar, supported by harmonies and complemented by interweaving countermelodies. A deep, gentle percussion kept time. Jason leaned over the rail, perplexed by the bizarre phenomenon. He wished another person were present so he could verify that he wasn’t having an auditory hallucination.
The hippo stirred, vast mouth momentarily yawning open, and for that instant the music became much louder and more distinct, as if the hippo truly were the source of the elaborate tune. Then the great mouth clamped shut.
The music became muffled again when the mouth closed, but continued to gradually increase in volume. Could the hippo have swallowed a stereo? That was the only plausible explanation, but it seemed just as ludicrous as the idea that the hippo was spontaneously producing the sound.
Maybe there was no music. Maybe he had been thumped on the head more severely than he’d realized. But his mind felt clearer than it had earlier, and the unsteadiness was fading.
Scanning the area, Jason saw no other people around. Would there be time to run and fetch someone else? He thought of the Warner Bros. cartoon about the singing and dancing frog that clammed up whenever witnesses were present.
Leaning his stomach against the top of the railing, Jason teetered far over the metal bar, baffled by the beckoning melody. If he could get an ear closer to the water, he could confirm whether the music was really coming from down there. The hippo remained motionless.
As his ear descended toward the rippling surface, a powerful sensation of vertigo swept over him. Jason overbalanced, lost his grip, and plunged head foremost into the pool above the massive hippo. As if this were the chance for which the lethargic beast had waited its entire captive existence, the hippopotamus surged upward with jaws agape, the music chiming louder than ever.
Before Jason could react, his hands were grasping at a slimy tongue, and his face was sliding against a greasy surface. Sprawled on his belly, he raced along a dark, slippery tunnel. No creature was this big! What was happening? In counterpoint to his distress, melodic music rang clearly as he sloshed along the humid corridor. He tried to brace himself against the rubbery sides to slow his slide but failed, until his arms and head suddenly emerged from an opening in the side of a dying tree, near a river lined with ferny vegetation.
Night had inexplicably fallen. A silver path of moonlight trembled on the water. The music he had heard was coming from a wide raft drifting on the lazy current. He squirmed out of the gap, his coveralls drenched from the plunge into the hippo tank, and turned around to inspect the hollow inside of the tree. The inner walls felt moist and rotten. He could locate no opening save the one through which he had emerged and an aperture directly overhead, at the top of the hollow trunk, through which he could see stars.
This was impossible! Where was the tunnel? How had it led to this tree? Where was the hippo? Where was the zoo? There was no river half this wide in his whole town! Jason blinked, wondering if the blow to his head at the batting cage had knocked him out.
Bracing himself against the interior walls of the trunk, he managed to scramble up until he came out at the top, twelve feet above the ground. Still no sign of a hippopotamus or of the Vista Point Zoo. He did, however, command a clear view of the raft, which had drawn up even with his current location.
Small colored lanterns illuminated the vessel. A narrow man in a pale outfit hammered at a xylophone. A stocky woman blew on a curved flute. Another man alternated between racks of chimes and a tall set of bongos. A flabby woman with at least five chins plucked a strangely shaped stringed instrument. A short figure held an enormous brass horn with tubing that snaked around his broad chest and rested on his shoulders.
The raft swept behind a screen of weeping willows before Jason could apprehend more details, though a few other musicians tinkered with a variety of less discernable instruments. The haunting music permeated the air, floating to him across river and riverbank.
Jason’s head swam with questions. How had he gotten here? Why was it nighttime? How would he get back to the zoo? Falling into the hippo tank was one thing—careless but possible. Passing through the mouth of a hippopotamus into a tunnel slide and coming out of a hollow tree beside a river was tougher to process. Everything he had ever assumed about reality had just been turned inside out. But his surroundings seemed so tangible. There was no denying his senses. He felt the damp, splintery texture of the bark beneath his hands; he smelled the faint odor of decay rising from a standing pool at the river’s edge. Oily sap clung to his skin. He sniffed his palm, and the pungent resin reminded him faintly of Fig Newtons and black licorice, but he had never smelled anything quite like it.
Jason sighed. He knew the difference between the vague impressions of a dream and the sharper sensations of wakeful consciousness. He certainly felt awake. Yet he could not help doubting the unreal situation. Perhaps this was simply a vivid dream. After all, a baseball had bashed him in the head. He could still be lying unconscious in the batting cage. Then he shivered. Maybe he had died—there could have been a clot in his brain. Or maybe the hippo really had eaten him. Could he have crossed over to some sort of afterlife?
He scratched his chin. The sensation felt genuine. His wet clothes clung authentically. His head throbbed gently, and he remained mildly dizzy. Would the symptoms of a concussion persist in a dream? In the afterlife? He listened to the music and the gentle lapping sounds of the river. Wherever he was, whatever the explanation, he remained alert, and he was immersed in a vivid, perceivable environment. He surveyed the vicinity—the mossy trees along the river, the shrubs below, the insects buzzing nearby—mildly astonished at how acceptable the impossible became once it had transpired.
Jason promptly discovered that his immediate problem would be getting down. He sat awkwardly on the lip of the tall hollow trunk, trying to position himself so he could descend as he had climbed. He couldn’t seem to get it right, and he began to experience light-headedness at the thought of sliding down the interior of the trunk, accumulating splinters, before breaking an ankle at the bottom. Attempting to climb down the exterior of the tree appeared even less inviting. Why was climbing up always so much easier than climbing down?
Finally, after many hesitant twistings and turnings, he lowered himself back into the trunk in a position where he could brace himself. Once he had squirmed down to the bottom, Jason exited the hollow tree, glad for the moonlight, and decided to follow the raft, since it represented the only trace of civilization.
Shortly he came abreast with the music, though foliage along the riverbank hindered his view of the vessel. Jason trotted ahead until he found a gap, and he discovered a little hunched figure squatting on a log.
“Hello,” Jason said.
A head whipped around. The face belonged to a kid, maybe ten or eleven. As the boy shifted, Jason realized he had a sizable hump on his back. “Why are you sneaking up on me?” the boy snapped.
“I’m just following the raft,” Jason replied defensively.
Looking calmer, the boy scooted over on the log to make room. Jason took a seat.
“What’s with the musical raft, anyhow?” Jason asked.
The boy turned a skeptical eye. “You joking? That’s the funeral dirge of the Giddy Nine, the best musicians around. Most folks are waiting for them down by the falls. That’s the only part they care about. But I like to hear the music. It’ll be the last time.”
“They’re headed for a waterfall?” Now that he listened for it, Jason could hear the distant roar.
The boy nodded gravely. “They’re trying to make some kind of statement. They were banned from playing together in public. I don’t see how this solves anything.” He gave Jason a hard stare. “You must have heard of them. Right?”
“No. I’m a stranger here. Just arrived.”
“Where are you from?”
“Never heard of it.”
Jason hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to hear how the boy answered. “How about America? Or the planet Earth?”
The boy scrunched his face. “Not really.”
“Can you tell me where I am?”
“The riverbank, obviously.” He returned his gaze to the river with a start. “They’ve passed us by. We’d better move on or we’ll miss the finale.”
Jason tromped along behind the boy, who moved surprisingly fast along a good route that skirted several marshy areas and shadowy thickets. The night air seemed to help his head, although a faint pulsing ache persisted.
They climbed a steep rise crowded with vegetation and came out on an overlook high above the river. The falls boomed louder. From the elevated viewpoint Jason peered upriver to see they were now well ahead of the little craft. The music sounded far away. Looking in the other direction, he could see where the river seemed to abruptly end. The falls.
“We’d better keep moving,” the young boy urged. “We’re ahead of them now, but the river picks up. Soon they’ll be traveling much faster than we can.”
Jason followed the boy down the rise, back under the gloom of overhanging branches. Soon he could hear the water flowing more swiftly. The roar of the falls grew to a constant thunder, drowning out the distant music. Jason found himself short of breath as he hustled to match the increasing pace of his guide.
They came through a dense stand of trees and beheld a moon-silhouetted multitude congregated beside the top of the waterfall. At the very brink of the falls sat a few tiers of makeshift bleachers crammed with spectators. “Find a good spot,” the boy advised before scampering over to the riverbank.
Jason jogged over to the far side of the bleachers, discovering that they came right up to the edge of the dizzying precipice, over which the water tumbled like an endless tsunami. He had been to Niagara Falls once with his family—this looked almost as high with nearly as much water. Cool vapor misted his face.
Jason walked back around the bleachers to the riverbank. People lined the bank upriver from the bleachers for some distance. Some of them looked somber. Others munched on snacks. One group swayed as they tunelessly sang an unintelligible song. Jason moved upriver in search of an open spot. The majority of the people wore simple, homespun clothing, though occasionally he saw a sleek fur coat or embroidered vest. Nobody wore what he considered normal, modern attire.
After jostling forward a little, he found a space that would offer a good view of the craft flowing off the brink, although too far upstream to observe the downward plunge. He stood beside a middle-aged woman wearing a floral bonnet and a dress fashioned from heavy material. She stared anxiously up the river, wringing her hands.
“Can you believe this?” he said.
She turned to him. Her rather wide-set eyes came to his chin. “Can I believe that my brother is about to kill himself to create a ridiculous spectacle?”
Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Your brother is on that raft?”
“He never had any sense. Or any backbone. He obeys whatever Simeon tells him. That madman has convinced the whole group to throw their lives away.”
She gazed back at the rushing water. The raft was still not in sight.
“Why are you here watching?” Jason asked.
She shrugged, her cheeks coloring slightly. “To show support. The Giddy Nine believe this sacrifice is important. I suppose that whatever happens, it’s better for Darren to leave this world feeling appreciated.”
“Is that what brought all of these people?”
She looked down the line toward the improvised bleachers at the brink of the falls. “These are mostly admirers of their music. Nobody gets what this is really about. I imagine many are here simply because it sounds like great fun to watch a raft full of musicians plummet off an enormous waterfall.”
Jason inwardly conceded that it would be an impressive sight. But at what cost! The waterfall was much too high for any of the musicians to survive.
“I wish there were something I could do,” the woman fretted.
“Why doesn’t somebody try to save them?” Jason asked.
“They don’t want to be saved. This is a funeral.”
Jason looked around. People stared expectantly upriver, some gloomy, some eager.
Should he try to rescue the musicians? It seemed like a tragic waste of lives. If he were out there, no matter what his convictions, he figured he would be changing his mind about going over the falls as soon as he got beyond the point of no return. What sane people would willingly drift off a tremendous waterfall? What sort of useful statement could that possibly make? From what he had been told, it sounded like the others were following the orders of one crazy leader. What if he had brainwashed them, like with a cult? Most of the people on the raft would probably rejoice to be rescued.
“I want to help you,” Jason said in a low voice. “Do you know where I could find some rope?”
The woman glanced at him, hope flickering in her gaze. “You want to stop this? The rescue squad has a rope. Don’t count on them using it.”
“Rescue squad? Where?”
“They’re just a precaution. They’re not far upriver.”
Some in the crowd began to cheer. The raft had come into view. At the very limits of perception Jason heard the music playing.
Leaving behind the group of spectators, Jason took off up the riverbank at a full sprint until he encountered a pair of men. They had a long line secured around the thick trunk of a knobby tree that towered over the rushing water.
“Are you the rescue squad?” Jason asked.
The short man with one arm answered. “Aye.”
“Do you intend to rescue them?” The musicians were approaching rapidly on the swift current. Their instruments screeched and hiccupped as the raft pitched on the foamy water.
“Only if they call for assistance,” the short man affirmed.
Jason saw that the other end of the slender line was affixed to an arrow held by a slim man leaning on a longbow. The three of them stood approximately fifty yards upriver from the falls. The raft was racing along about twenty yards from the bank.
“Will your arrow reach, carrying that rope?” Jason asked.
“Certainly, long as I aim a little high,” the lean man replied.
“You a good shot?”
“Maybe you should just save them. I bet they’ll end up thanking you.”
“Doubtful,” the lean man sniffed. “They didn’t even want rescuers present. I’ll interfere only at their request.”
Jason turned to face the imperiled musicians. If he tried to swim the rope out to them, he would be swept away downstream before he got close. The tree did not overhang the river far enough to climb out to them. Time was running short.
“Try to save them,” Jason insisted. “This is wrong.”
“Not unless—,” the short man began.
“I hear them calling for help,” Jason lied.
“Go away,” demanded the lean man, his wide lips peeling back to reveal yellowed teeth. “The last thing we need is interference from some desperate, aspiring hero. If they really did cry for help, we wouldn’t hear it over your racket.”
“The sister of one of the musicians sent me,” Jason tried.
“I don’t care if the king of Meridon sent you,” the lean man said. “This is their decision.”
The raft would soon draw even with them. There was no time to think. Jason shoved the short man. Caught by surprise, he stumbled back over the steep bank and into the river.
“What’s wrong with you?” shouted the lean man, dropping both bow and arrow to dive into the torrent after his fellow rescuer. The one-armed man had already washed some distance downstream and could be seen flailing lopsidedly. Even immediately beside the bank the current ran strong.
Trusting the lean man to rescue his comrade, Jason wasted no time collecting the fallen bow and arrow. He nocked the arrow and pulled it to his cheek, straining against the heavy tension of the string, one eye squinted shut. He hadn’t handled a bow since earning an archery badge at a summer camp two years ago.
The raft heaved along, twenty yards out, now exactly perpendicular to his position on the bank. Many of the instruments and musicians appeared lashed in place. He tilted the bow upward, hoping he and the lean man understood “a little high” to mean the same thing.
He released the arrow, and it streaked across the distance to the raft, ending its flight embedded in the shoulder of the man playing the bongos. The percussion stopped as the man sank out of sight. The line on the bank continued to uncoil, paying out as the raft progressed rapidly forward.
Jason gasped. Had that really just happened? Shooting somebody had not been part of the plan. He eyed the uncoiling lifeline. Was it too long? It looked pretty thin. Would it hold?
The line pulled taut with a sudden jerk. The raft lurched in response, sending up a spray of water as it swung toward the riverbank. The crowd cried out in astonishment.
Thirty yards downriver the lean man hauled the short man out of the water. The lean man stood watching the raft arc toward the bank, hands on his hips. Something in one hand glinted in the bright moonlight.
Whether or not the musicians wanted to be saved, the raft was going to collide with the bank. The wounded percussionist must have become firmly entangled with some of the equipment, because the strain on the line was extraordinary. Most of the musicians continued to play. A couple of them seemed to be attempting to free themselves from their lashings.
When the raft crashed against the sheer bank ten yards shy of the falls, buckling somewhat, many of the spectators groaned. But moans turned to exclamations as the impact launched the stocky woman overboard along with her curved flute. The ruckus reached a climax as she washed over the brink and down the thunderous cascade.
Jason’s eyes widened in horror, and he felt the bile rise up in his throat, barely able to believe what he had just witnessed. All around him cheering broke out, as the lean man slashed the taut line, and the crippled raft once again surged ahead with the current. Jason thought one person might have jumped from the raft to the bank, but he could not be certain. The uproar from the crowd reached a jubilant crescendo as the raft sailed over the falls directly below the packed bleachers, vanishing with a cymbal crash and a final squeaky note from a woodwind instrument.
Jason stood frozen, feeling like he had been kicked in the stomach. None of those people could have survived!
Knife still in hand, the lean man and his waterlogged colleague were swiftly returning up the riverbank. Jason shook himself out of his paralyzed shock and hurriedly retreated back into the trees away from the river.
What People are saying about this
Meet the Author
Brandon Mull is the author of the New York Times, USA TODAY, and Wall Street Journal bestselling Beyonders and Fablehaven series, as well as the bestselling Five Kingdoms and Candy Shop Wars series. He resides in Utah, in a happy little valley near the mouth of a canyon with his wife and four children. Brandon’s greatest regret is that he has but one life to give for Gondor.
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >
Jason Walker's life as a normal American boy get turned upside down when he accidentally falls into the hippopotamus tank at the local zoo. Instead of being eaten though, he finds himself in a completely new world. Thus begins his journey through Lyria, a land run by the evil King Maldor. He joins up with Rachel, a girl who also accidentally found herself transported to the strange kingdom, and together the two of them meet many others on their quest for a magic word. The trick will not only be to survive the enemies and treacherous landscapes, but also to find their way home. I have to say, Brandon Mull's Fablehaven series is one of my FAVORITES of all times. I've recommended it to more people than I can keep track of. I was sad to see it end but was thrilled how the final book wrapped up so nicely. I've had Fablehaven-inspired dreams and fantasies. So Mr. Mull had some pretty large expectations to meet with this new series of his. And meet them he does, mostly. A World Without Heroes did not strike my fancy as much as I had hoped it would, but it was still a fantastic adventure and reading experience. I thought the premise of finding the pieces of a magic word was fun and clever. As with Fablehaven, there is a fun boy/girl duo pulling the story along. Rachel and Jason both brought their own skills and weaknesses to the team, but the two of them together provides all readers with something with which to identify. The story was stuffed so full of exposition, people, and places that it sometimes felt as though I would never be able to keep it all straight. But Mull is no stranger to creating complex worlds and so I found that I was never completely lost. I definitely think this series is aimed at a much older audience than his Fablehaven books were. There are some very dark moments in the plot, as well as a slew of slightly more difficult words and concepts. I loved how witty and intelligent Jason was. Plus there were so many other interesting and unique characters introduced in this first book that readers are bound to be rewarded with seeing more of their favorites in future installments. Fans of Cornelia Funke's Inkheart series will love jumping into the world of Lyria as well. Book two, Seeds of Rebellion, is due to arrive next year!
This is a great book. I highly recomend this book. If in doubt read the sample, it got me hooked straight away.
If you loved his books of FABLEHAVEN, you have to read his new series. The different plots and characters will grab your attention, and will not let you go. All the different details are so greatly desribed than ever. I say ages 12 and up should read this. I love his writting and so should you! You shouuld also read Rick Riodan and Christopher Paolini.
Loved every second of it and am super anxious to read the next book. This has great potential for the next books and will be a hit if it turns out half as good as fablehaven! Brandon Mull is one of my favorite author and a big part of the reason i want to be an author!
I'll be honest with you. There were many books that catch me into the story. I plan to be an author in the future, so i guess that this is to be expected. A World Without Heros, Fablehaven, Earagon, Percy Jackson, Earagon, and The Hunger Games were all books that i found to be incredible. This book was defidently not as wonderful as adicting books that come out really fast such as manga, but manga books arent on the nook. The books listed are probably some of the best the nook has to offer. Remember, im not some adult or anything like that. Im just thirteen, so this probably wont apply to non-teans. I hope i was helpful. I would defidently recomend it. It is worth way more then it's getting sold for. Brandon, the author is a wonderful writer who inspires me.
This book was wonderful! It is very entertaining and a page turner. I highly recomend it.
I didn't think another series could intrigue me like Fablehaven did. I was so wrong! Can not wait for the next book.
Feels a little different from his other stuff. The characters don't have as clearly distinguishable personalities so often times you find yourself wondering who the people are that are currently speaking. With Fablehaven they just had to say one sentence and it SOUNDED like a unique person and there was never any question. I think other than that gripe, I loved this book. The world is very unique, the challenges the hero faces are often so random that you have to put the book down and just think. . . wowa. Spinning pubs, memory erasing tree rooms, detachable limbs. . . its so freaking cool. There is nothing in this book that feels like it is just a copy of other lore. Totally unique. Very entertaining. A must read.
mullia great as with fablehaven he has created another world the story sucks you in and is imposdible to put down. loved it just as much as fablehaven!
Very good book! I definitely recommend it for those 11 and up. Brandon Mull has another hit with his new series. The plot moves along well, and the characters are engaging.
This is a great series!
This is the best book I've ever read!!!!!! :)
Beyonders + Fablehaven- best series ever!!!
What won't be difficult is filling a paragraph with all the pros of the book. To be honest I could write a thesis on everything that Brandon Mull does right with his writing techniques. At first glance the story seems unoriginal and cookie cutter but Mull uses your assumptions to keep flipping the story on it's head. The dialog flows organically and never becomes frustrating even when the accents start showing up. He even manages to grow and blossom a romance between the two main characters, making it fun and awkward without forcing the reader to cringe from cheesy lines. But by far the very best part of the book is the villain. Something great has been created here, a villain with a taste for evil that is rarely seen in this genera. The evil king is such a great character that he single handedly elevates the story into something edgy, new, and spectacular...read full review at theofficebooks.blogspot
I just started it and i love it. can't what to read more. This is way better than fablehaven. If thinking about buying do.
This book is really good. The characters are awesome and the plot is GREAT.
I love this book! This is a book for children around twelve or thirteen years old who crave adventure. It may get confusing at times but if you use context clues you can easily figure it out. It is surprising amd exciting. This book is something people can relate to and enjoy on a personal level.
This was a page turner. I couldn't put my nook down! WAY TO GO BRANDON MULL!!!!!
This book is AWESOME!!! I've read all of Brandon Mull's books, and they rock! His books are so awesone, it makes me want to dance! o(^_^)o o (^_^o) o(^_^)o (o^_^) o o(^_^)o I can't wait for the third book to come out! But it doesn't come out untill nexr spring! AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!! X(| What the heck am I going to read between now and then!?!?! Nothing else is good enough to compare to this series! ~ El3 ~
Are great, but I like Fabelhaven better.
Like all of Brandon Mull's books, beyonders is a new series that is amazing! Jason has a normal life until everything turns upside down. He realizes he is in a magical world just like Kendra and Seth do in fablehaven in the first book. I cannot wait until the second Beyonders book comes out. I will probably finish it in 1 hour! PEACE OUT BRANDON MULL FANS!!!!!!!
This book I have to say wasn't as good as I thought it would be. I believe that some other peopl might think so to. If you liked the Fablehaven series you get a twist here in this book. One thing is, I was dissapointed in the end. If you want to find out more about Brandon Mull's new writing style, read the book.
Great book totally should read
At first glance, I passed on this novel. I was guilty of judging a book by it's cover. But then I noticed it was by Brandon Mull who is also the author of The Fablehaven series, which is a favorite of mine. Then it became a must read. It's a little slow to start, but Mull has to create the background. Which I know from his previous books, he's marvelous at. I really enjoyed this world that he has created. I felt the tension between the people. Everyone is afraid to draw the emperor's wrath, and those who have his favor bask in the glory. Everyone who would challenge him is dead. Or if they've presented a serious threat, they've been given life long immunity at the ultimate palace that they can never leave. Hidden along the way are those who secretly oppose the emperor. They are just waiting for the right hero to come along with the courage to follow through and bring him down. Enter in Jason and Rachel. Jason was brought into this world by musicians trying to summon a hero. While he doesn't believe he is this person, he will do anything to find away back home. Even if it means taking up this impossible quest. Rachel's true roll I think is yet to be fully revealed. She provides some key support, and some of the adventures could not have been completed without her. It's an epic middle grade fantasy with everything you could hope for in the genre. There's a giant killer crab, frog's with teeth, mushrooms that make you forget, and berries that give you extra energy. Along they way Jason and Rachel must outwit a chancellor, run on water, escape the palace that no one is allowed to leave, and gain an audience with the emperor. It's really a fantastic novel from beginning to end. It's not as great as the later books in the Fablehaven series. But as the first in a new series, it has the makings to be great!
read over and over and over