other things. I see imperfectly from where I stand. I see only
shadows of what would be and must rely on those. Yours is the
vision that can be relied upon. Go, Walker. Find the scions of
Shannara and discover what they have done. In their stories
and in your own you will find what you need. You must
believe—
Walker said nothing then, thinking for a moment that he was
being asked once again to proceed on faith alone. But, of
course, that was what he had been doing ever since the dreams
had first appeared to him and he had been persuaded to travel
to the Hadeshom and Allanon. Was it really so difficult to ac-
cept that faith must guide him anew?
He looked at the pale figure before him, all lines about
transparency, all memories of life gone before. “I believe,” he
said to Allanon’s shade, and meant it.
The Talismans of Shannara 235
—Walker Boh—
The shade’s voice was soft and filled with regrets that words
could not speak.
—Find the children of Shannara. You have the Druid sight.
You have the wisdom they need. Do not fail them—
“No,” Walker said hoarsely. “I will not.”
—Put an end to the Shadowen before they destroy the Pour
Lands completely. I feel their sickness spreading even here.
They steal the earth’s life. Stop them. Walker Boh—
“Yes, Allanon, I will.”
—Bend to me then. Dark Uncle. Bend to me one final time
before you go. Sleep carries us towards daybreak, and we must
travel different paths. Hear the last of what I would tell you,
and let your wisdom and your reason divine what remains con-
cealed from us both. Bend to me. Walker Boh, and listen—
The shade approached, steam upon the waters of the
Hadeshom in human shape, a cloaking of mist and gray light,
a wraith formed of sounds come out of terrifying darkness.
Tense and uncertain. Walker Boh waited, eyes lowered to
the boiling waters, to the reflection of stars and sky, until both
disappeared in the blackness of shadow.
Then he felt the other’s touch against his skin, and he shud-
dered uncontrollably.
He came awake at sunrise, the light a faint creeping from
the hallway beyond his darkened room. He lay without moving
for a time, thinking of the dream and what it had shown him.
Allanon had sent the dream so that he would have a place to
begin his new life. The dream had reinforced his intention to
seek out Par and Wren, but it had also given him reason to be-
lieve in himself. He could accept who and what he had be-
come if there was at least a chance that he could bring the
ravaged lands and their people safely out of the Shadowen
thrall.
Find the children of Shannara. Do not fail them.
He rose then from his bed, washed, dressed, and ate break-
fast on the castle battlements looking out over the land in the
light of the new day. He thought again of Cogline, of all that
the old man had taught him. He recited to himself the litany of
rules and understandings that his transformation from mortal
236 The Talismans of Shannara
man to Druid had given him, the whole of the history of the
Druids come and gone. He worked his way carefully through
the teachings of his magic’s use—some already put to the test,
some that remained untried.
Last of all, he recounted the events of the dream and the se-
crets it had shown him. And there had been secrets—a few,
important ones, there at the last, when Allanon had touched
him. What he had learned was already beginning to suggest
answers to his heretofore-unanswered questions. The whole of
the history of the Four Lands since the time of the First Coun-
cil at Paranor formed a pattern for what was happening now.
The events of weeks past gave color and shape to that pattern.
But it was the dream and the insights with which it provided
him that thrust that pattern into the light where it could be
clearly seen.
What was missing still was the reason that Wren had been