a blackened torch wedged in the rock wall and managed to
light it using a strip of cloth and Matty’s fire-making stones. It
took a long time to get a flame in the dampness, and by the
time they had the torch burning, they could hear movement in
the watery corridors behind them.
“They’ve dug through—or found another way,” the girl
The Talismans of Shannara 261
whispered, and gave him a secretive smile. “But they won’t
catch us—or if they do, they’ll wish they hadn’t. Come on!”
They pushed ahead into tunnels that grew increasingly nar-
row. The grates finally disappeared entirely and the torch be-
came their only light. The hours wore on, and it became
obvious that they were hopelessly lost. Neither said so, but
both knew. Somehow they had chosen the wrong direction. It
was still possible that they would find their way clear, but
Morgan didn’t care for the odds. Even Damson, who lived in
the city and came down into the tunnels often, did not feel she
could navigate the maze of corridors without the Mole. He
wondered what had become of her and the others of the free-
bom. He wondered if they thought Matty and he were dead.
They found another torch, this one in better condition, and
took it with them as a spare. When the pitch-coated length of
the first was burned away, Morgan used the stub to light the
spare and they continued on. They were angling deeper into
the bluff and could no longer see or hear the rain. Sounds grew
muffled and then disappeared; there was only their breathing
and their footsteps. Morgan tried to set a direct course, but the
tunnels intersected and cut back so often that he gave it up.
Time ticked away, but there was no way to be certain how
much of it had passed. They grew hungry and thirsty, but there
was nothing to eat or drink.
Finally Morgan stopped and turned to Matty. “We’re not
getting anywhere. We have to try something else. Let’s find
our way back up to the first level. Maybe we can slip out into
the city tonight and sneak through the gates tomorrow.”
It was a faint hope at best—the Federation would be looking
for them everywhere—but anything was better than wandering
around hopelessly in the dark. Night would be coming soon,
and Morgan kept thinking about the Shadowen that Damson
had told him prowled the tunnels closest to the Pit. Suppose
they stumbled into one of those. It was too dangerous for them
to remain down here any longer.
They worked their way back toward the bluff face, choosing
tunnels that angled upward, winding about with their torch
slowly burning away. They knew they were running out of
time; if they did not regain the streets of the city soon, their
light would be used up and they would be stuck there in the
262 The Talismans of Shannara
dark. But now they were hearing continual sounds in the dis-
tance, the movement of men through water and damp, the
whisper of voices. Their hunters were out in force, and they
were no closer than before to finding a way past them.
It was a long time before they reached the sewers again and
caught a glimpse of daylight through a street grating. The light
was thin and fading now, the day easing quickly toward dark.
The rain had turned to a slow drizzle, and the city was silent
and empty feeling. They walked until they found a ladder lead-
ing up, and Morgan took a deep breath and climbed. When he
peered out from between the bars he saw Federation soldiers
stationed across from him, grim and silent in the gloom. He
climbed back down noiselessly, and they continued on.
Their torch burned out, the daylight turned to dark—the
skies so clouded that almost no light showed down into the
tunnels, and the sound of their hunters faded away and was re-
placed by the scurrying of rats and the drip of ronoff. All of
the grate openings they checked were under watch. They kept
moving because there was nothing else for them to do, afraid
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