Терри Брукс - The Talismans of Shannara

He spun her about and shoved her up the stairwell. They raced up the steps, listening to the sounds of pursuit grow closer. Par’s face was grim with purpose. If the Mole had betrayed them, they were finished whichever way they ran. If he had not, then their only chance was to find him.

They reached the next landing, and Par cast about in vain for the hidden door. He could not remember where it was; he hadn’t paid that much attention when he had come through. Now everything looked the same.

“Mole!” he shouted in desperation.

Immediately the wall split apart to his left, and the Mole’s furry face peered out. “Here! Here, lovely Damson!” he called frantically.

They hurried through the opening, and the Mole pushed the wall closed behind them. “Padishar?” he inquired anxiously, and the way he spoke and the look that came into his damp eyes suggested to Par for reasons he would never be able to explain that no betrayal had taken place.

“They have him,” the Valeman answered, forcing himself to look directly at Damson. She turned aside instantly.

“Come away, then,” the Mole urged, the candle in his hand as he scurried ahead of them. “Hurry.”

They went back down into the tower walls, winding and twisting their way through the gloom, listening to the cries of soldiers filter through the stone in a muffled cacophony. They reached the closet and passed quickly into the hallway beyond. Outside, soldiers ran past the barracks windows, headed for the watchtower and the gates. Torchlight sparked and flared as it was brought to bear against the darkness, and the sound of bolts being thrown and crossbars being dropped into their metal fitting was deafening. Pressed against the wall in a pool of darkness, the Mole held his charges in place for a moment, then beckoned them ahead. They ran in a crouch through the empty corridor to the door that had brought them and pushed through to the courtyard without.

Darkness had fallen, and the moon and stars were hidden by clouds that hung low and sullen across the bluff. Fire cast its smoky light through the gloom with little effect. Figures charged about everywhere, but it was impossible to make out their faces.

“This way!” the Mole whispered hoarsely.

They moved left along the wall, hurrying because everyone else was hurrying as well. They slipped through the dark, just three more bodies in the confusion, another three for which no one had time or interest.

They were almost to the door leading back to the city’s underground when they were challenged. A shout brought them about, and a dark figure came striding out of the gloom. For an instant Par thought it was Padishar, miraculously escaped, but then he saw the markings of a Federation captain on a dark uniform. All three froze at his approach, uncertain what to do. The captain reached them, his dark bearded face coming into the light.

Then Damson stepped forward, smooth and relaxed, smiling at him. A confused look appeared on his face. She gave him an instant more, then hit him three times across the face with the blade of her hand, the blows so quick that Par could barely see them. She stepped into him, drew his arm across her shoulder, and threw him down. He wheezed and tried to cry out, but a final blow to the throat silenced him for good.

Damson rose and pushed past Par to where the Mole was already disappearing through the door. Par remembered in that instant how easily she had overcome him that night in the People’s Park when he had believed her responsible for the Federation trap that had ensnared Padishar and the others. She might have done so again in the watchtower, he realized. She could have forced him to go back if she had wished. Why hadn’t she?

They were inside the inner wall again, hurrying back down to the cellars that had brought them. The sounds without were fading now, muffled behind the layers of stone block. They reached the trapdoor and passed through, descending the steps to the tunnels below. From there, they moved swiftly through the gloom, away from the city’s walls and back toward its center. Soon they were deep within the sewers and everything was silent.

“Let’s... let’s just rest a moment,” Par suggested finally, out of breath from running, needing to think, to decide what to do next.

“Here,” the Mole offered, directing them to a platform that served as a base for a ladder climbing to the streets at a confluence of tunnels and pipes. Overhead, light shone dimly through a grate. The streets were still and empty of life. “I will go back and make certain we are not followed.”

He disappeared into the dark, leaving them the candle. The Valeman and the girl watched him go, then settled themselves gingerly in place, backs to the wall, side by side with the candle before them. Par felt drained. He stared at the darkness beyond the candle’s flame, exhaustion spreading through him. He could hear Damson breathing, could feel the heat of her body.

“You know what they’ll do to him,” she said finally. He didn’t respond, looking straight ahead. “They’ll make him one of them. They’ll use him.”

If they manage to take him alive, Par thought. And maybe not even then. Rimmer Dall is unpredictable.

“Why didn’t you make me go back for him?” he asked her.

There was a long silence before she spoke. “I would never do that to you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the import of the words sink in. “I’m sorry about Padishar,” he said finally. “I didn’t want to leave him either.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

She said it in such a matter-of-fact way that he looked over at her to make certain he had heard her correctly. Her eyes met his. “I know,” she repeated. The pain in her voice was palpable. “It wasn’t your fault. Padishar made you promise to save me first. He would have made me promise as well if our positions had been reversed.” She looked away again. “I was just angry when I saw...” She shook her head.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded wordlessly, and her eyes closed.

“Do they know who you are?”

She glanced over again. “No. Why would they?”

He took a deep breath. “The Mole. That was a trap back there, Damson. They were waiting for us. They had some reason to believe we would come for you. What better reason than if they knew that you were Padishar Creel’s daughter? Padishar thinks the Mole gave us away.”

There was new anger in her eyes. “Par, the Mole saved us! Saved you, anyway. I was just unlucky. The Federation recognized me from the streets, and they knew I had helped you escape the gristmill.” She hesitated. “That was a trap as well, wasn’t it? They knew...” She paused again, uncertain of where she was going.

“It could have been the Mole,” Par pressed. “He could have been taken when he came to look for you. Or sometime before.”

“And helped us escape anyway?” she asked incredulously. “Why? What would be the point? The Federation would have had us all if he hadn’t gotten us out of the watchtower.”

“I know. I was thinking that, too.” He shook his head. “But they keep finding us, Damson. How do they do that? The Shadowen seem to have an ear to every wall. It’s insidious. Sometimes it seems as if there isn’t anyone left to trust.”

Her smile was bitter. “There isn’t, Par. Not anyone. Didn’t you realize that? There’s only you and me. And can we even trust each other?”

He stared at her in shock. A sadness came into her eyes, and she reached out quickly, put her arms about him, and drew him close.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and he could feel her crying.

“I thought I might have lost you for good,” he whispered into her hair. He felt her nod slightly. “I’m so tired of all this. I just want it to end.”