Here they were, traveling undetected through Gerander—perhaps under the very feet of the Sourian army! But as they moved further and further into the close confines of the tunnel, Alistair couldn’t help but feel an invisible weight pressing down on him. Even though he was able to stand without difficulty, and the tunnel was wide enough for them to walk two abreast, the knowledge that they were traveling under who knew how many tons of earth and rock made his chest feel strangely tight, as if the air was thin, though the occasional flickering of the candle told him there must be vents through which drafts were flowing. Here and there the knobs of tree roots protruded from the roof or ran like veins along the wall, usually accompanied by a sharp bend in the tunnel, as if it was skirting an obstacle. These unexpected bends could be alarming, for if he had fallen too far behind Slippers and the candle, the tunnel would suddenly be plunged into darkness and he would have to feel his way around the corner with one hand brushing along the rough dirt wall.
