Free A World Without Heroes by Brandon Mull

carpet woven with imagery of cruel thorns covered the floor.
    Jason crossed to the book. It had to be important to be situated all alone in such a grand fashion. As he drew nearer, he gasped. Shocked curiosity impelled him forward.
    The book appeared to be bound in human skin. Upon close examination Jason observed that the fleshy covering had tiny pores, fine hairs like the ones on his arm, and light blue veins visible beneath the surface.
    Aghast, he tentatively touched the surface, withdrawing his finger instantly. It was warm to the touch, with a yielding texture that suggested more thickness than he had expected. It felt alive.
    Morbid fascination rooted him to the spot. What sort of book would be bound in living flesh? No writing appeared on the skin to suggest title or author. The publisher must not have owned a tattoo needle.
    Rubbing his neck, Jason found the hair there standing upright. He glanced at the dim bookshelves at the edge of his candlelight. Beyond the light the blackness and silence seemed more oppressive than ever.
    The surface of the pedestal was slanted, so the book rested propped at an angle. He slid a finger beneath a corner of the cover and flipped it open to a title page written in extravagant calligraphy. The ink was a dark maroon.
The Book of Salzared, bound in his hide, scribbled in his blood.
    He turned the page.
Be cautioned, Reader. Some knowledge can never be unlearned. Such is the secret contained herein. Proceed only in defiance of this gravest warning, for the dire words that follow will set You in opposition to Maldor evermore.
    Jason read the words with mouth agape. What information could be so volatile? How could Maldor possibly know whether he had read this book?
    The loremaster had insisted that discussing how to travel to the Beyond was forbidden by Maldor. Jason chewed on his knuckle. What if this book contained the knowledge he needed to return home? This could be it! The next page could hold his passport back to reality.
    He turned the page. The writing continued in the same fancy script, almost too ostentatious to read, despite the over-large characters.
I, Salzared, Chief Scribe of Maldor, in a desperate act of betrayal, hereby impart knowledge pertaining to the only vulnerability of my Lord and Master, and do bind these words in my mortal flesh that they might be preserved against those many hands which would otherwise destroy them.
Behold, Maldor reigns in fearless might, and rightly so, for none may cause him harm, except by a single Word whose existence is His most closely protected secret.
The Word, spoken in His presence, will unmake Him entirely.
None, myself included, know all syllables of the Key Word. However, fragments of the Word are known to my fellow conspirators, who stand upon protected ground, awaiting one of sufficient courage to puzzle the syllables together.
Speak the Word aloud but once, in the presence of Maldor and at no other time, for its utterance will erase all memory of its existence. Writing down the entire Word would provoke a similar consequence.
By reading these words You have nominated Yourself to recover the Key Word, the only hope of deposing my Lord and Tyrant. Move swiftly. The knowledge You now possess marks You for prompt execution.
The first syllable is “a.”
Now depart! Let not my sacrifice be in vain. Away!
Salzared
    Thumbing through the remainder of the yellowed pages, Jason found them all blank. He closed the tome.
    The covering of the book had broken out in gooseflesh. So had Jason.
    Could the admonitions he had read be real? Surely the book was of no great importance if it lay up here in this dusty attic. Behind the most intricately locked door he had ever seen. In a library hidden in the middle of a forest. Oh, crud.
    Suddenly a flap of skin lifted on the center of the cover, revealing a glaring eye. A human eye.
    Jason shrieked, dropping the candle and plunging the room into immediate darkness. Involuntary screams soared from his