their anger.
Famine appeared first, wheeling through the arch of the
fasthold that had momentarily swallowed it, closer to the strug-
gle than the others. Skeletal frame hunched low, bony hands
stretched forth, the Horseman charged ahead. But there was a
cloud of dust and smoke in its way, stirred by Walker in antic-
ipation of its coming, and it could not see clearly what was
happening. When it broke through the screen, it found itself
right on top of its prey. Walker Boh was struggling with Pes-
tilence, grappling with the Shadowen, trying to wrest it from
atop its writhing serpent, fighting to keep either from rising.
Famine swept past, finger bones raking Walker across the
face.
Missing him completely.
Catching Pestilence instead. And being caught by the other
in turn.
Both of the Horsemen screamed as the magic of each at-
tacked the other. Pestilence fell back, weakened by hunger and
want. Famine lurched away, sickened and retching.
Fire exploded out of the stone walls between them, dealing
Famine a ferocious blow that sent the Shadowen reeling.
Now War appeared, come around the west end of the wall,
the huge mace raised overhead as the Horseman thundered to
the fray. Its serpent breathed flames, and there was a glimmer
of fire in the eye slits beneath the armor. It saw Walker Boh
clearly, saw the Druid grappling with Famine, and it attacked
at once. It might have heard Famine scream in warning, but if
it did it failed to heed. It brought the mace down with a
crunching blow, intending to finish Walker Boh with a single
pass. But Walker had disappeared, and the blow struck Famine
instead, hammering right through the Shadowen and deep into
The Talismans of Shannara 221
his serpent. Famine wailed in anguish and collapsed in a pile
of bones. Serpent and rider lay unmoving in the dust.
War wheeled back, and suddenly there were plague flies all
over it, stinging and biting past weapons and armor. War
shrieked, but the strike was quick and certain. Pestilence had
seen Walker Boh dodge the blow that had felled Famine, seen
him launch himself onto War and begin to strangle the Shad-
owen. Pestilence, dazed and battered, had reacted out of in-
stinct, sending fever and sickness in a swift counterattack. But
somehow things had gone awry; it was not Walker Boh who
was struck, but the Horseman War.
Flattened against the castle wall. Walker withdrew the image
of himself into a cloud of dust behind the thrashing War and
sent a bolt of fire into Pestilence that threw the Shadowen
from his mount completely. The entire stretch of bluff was a
haze of dust and heat thrown up by the twisting, snarling ser-
pents and their maddened riders. The images were an old trick,
one that a young Jair Ohmsford had perfected three centuries
ago in his battle with the Mord Wraiths. Walker had remem-
bered and used the trick to good purpose this day, sending the
Shadowen wheeling this way and that, overlaying an image of
himself on first one and then another, all the while keeping his
back firmly planted against the castle wall.
Mirrors and light, but it was proving to be enough.
Stricken with a dozen killing fevers. War wheeled its serpent
about. Walker Boh had appeared again, straddling the fallen
Pestilence, trying to smother the Shadowen. War charged, half-
blinded and crazed, a great battle-axe drawn. It was on the
Druid in seconds, and the axe swept down, cutting him apart.
Except that he wasn’t there again, and the blade sliced
through Pestilence and his serpent instead.
From his place against the castle wall. Walker sent fire ham-
mering into War. The Shadowen went down, separated from
his mount. When the mount tried to rise. Walker burned it to
ash.
The mounts, he had discovered, did not share their riders’
resiliency. And the Four Horsemen, while able to recover from
his magic, were not immune to their own. He had not missed
the way they had attacked him each time out—one at a time,
one after the other, never all at once. A sustained rush would
222 The Talismans of Shannara