Heritage of Shannara 1 – The Scions of Shannara by Brooks, Terry

might say. He smiled disarmingly. “I think I’ve found the per-

son you’ve been looking for,” he said to the big man.

Padishar’s face went taut momentarily, then quickly relaxed.

“Ah, that’s all, is it?” He spoke as much to his men as to them,

his voice almost joking. “Well, well, come on outside a minute

and tell me about it.” He put his arm about their shoulders as

if all was well, waved to those listening, and steered the High-

lander and the Dwarf outside.

There he backed them into the shadows. “What is it you’ve

found?” he demanded.

Morgan glanced at Steff, then shook his head. He was sweat-

ing now beneath his clothes, and his face was flushed. “Padi-

shar,” he said. “Teel’s missing. Steff doesn’t know what’s

happened to her. I think she might have gone down into the

tunnel.”

He waited, his gaze locked on the big man’s, silently pleading

with him not to demand more, not to make him explain. He still

wasn’t certain, not absolutely, and Steff would never believe him

in any case.

Padishar understood. “Let’s have a look. You and I, High-

lander.”

Steff seized him by the arm. “I’m coming too.” His face was

bathed in sweat, and his eyes were glazed, but there was no

mistaking his determination in the matter.

“You haven’t the strength for it, lad.”

“That’s my concern!”

Padishar’s face turned sharply into the light. It was criss-

crossed with welts and cuts from last night’s battle, tiny lines

that seemed to reflect the deeper scars the Dwarf bore. “And

none of mine,” he said quietly. “So long as you understand.”

They went into the sick bay, where Padishar took one of the

other outlaws aside and spoke softly to him. Morgan could just

make out what was being said.

“Rouse Chandos,” Padishar ordered. “Tell him I want the

camp mobilized. Check the watch, be certain it’s awake and

alive. Make ready to move everyone out. Then he’s to come

after me into the hidden tunnel, the bolt hole. With help. Tell

him I said that we’re all done with secrecy, so it doesn’t matter

now who knows what he’s about. Now get to it!”

The man scurried off, and Padishar beckoned wordlessly to

Morgan and Steff. He led them through the main cavern into the

deep recesses where the stores were kept. He lit three torches,

kept one for himself and gave one each to the Highlander and

the Dwarf. Then he took them into the very back of the farthest

chamber where the cases were stacked against the rock wall,

handed his torch to Morgan, grabbed the cases in both hands

and pulled. The false front opened into the tunnel beyond. They

slipped through the opening, and Padishar pulled the packing

crates back into place.

“Stay close,” he warned.

They hurried into the dark, the torches smoking above them,

casting their weak yellow light against the shadows. The tunnel

was wide, but it twisted and turned. Rock outoroppings made

the passage hazardous; there were stalactites and stalagmites

both, wicked stone icicles. Water dripped from the ceiling and

pooled in the rock, the only sound in the silence other than their

footsteps. It was cold in the caves, and the chill quickly worked

its way through Morgan’s clothes. He shivered as he trailed after

Padishar. Steff trailed them both, walking haltingly on his own,

his breathing ragged and quick.

Morgan wondered suddenly what they were going to do when

they found Teel.

He made a mental check of his weapons. He had the newly

acquired broadsword strapped across his back, a dagger in his

belt, and another in his boot. At his waist, he wore the shortened

scabbard and the remains of the Sword of Leah.

Not much help against a Shadowen, he thought worriedly.

And how much use would Steff be, even after he discovered the

truth? What would he do?

If only I still had the magic. . .

He forced that thought away from him, knowing what it would

lead to, determined that he would not allow his indecision to

bind him again.

The seconds ticked by, and the echo of their passing rever-

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