chamber, alone in the darkness that the windowless room pro-
vided, at peace with himself for the first time he could remem-
ber, the long, terrible journey to fulfill the charge he had been
given ended, the ordeal of the transformation set for him fin-
ished at last. Much had come undone and more than a little
had been lost, but what mattered above all else was that he had
survived.
He went out then to Cogline and found him sitting close-by
with the moor cat curled at his feet, worry lines etched in his
aging face, uncertainty reflected in his eyes. He came up to the
old man and raised him to his feet as if he were a child—
grown impossibly strong with the change, made over by the
hands and eyes and voices until he was as ten men. He put his
good arm about the frail old body and held his mentor gently.
“I am well again,” he whispered. “It is over and I am safe.”
32 The Talismans of Shannara
And the old man gripped him back and cried into his shoul-
der.
They talked then as they had of old, two men who had ex-
perienced more than their share of surprises in life, joined by
the common bond of the Druid magic and by the fates that had
brought them to this time and place. They spoke of Walker’s
change, of the feelings it had generated, of the knowledge it
had brought, and of the needs it might fulfill. They were whole
again, flesh-and-blood men, and Paranor was returned. It was
the beginning of a new era in the world of the Four Lands, and
they were at the first moment in time that would determine
how that era evolved. Walker Boh was uncertain even now
how he was to wield the Druid magic—or even that he should.
There was the Shadowen threat to consider, but the nature and
extent of that threat remained a mystery. Walker had been
given the Druid lore, but not an insight into what he was ex-
pected to do with it—especially as regarded the Shadowen.
“My transformation has left me with certain insights that
weren’t there before,” Walker confided. “One is that the use of
Druid magic will prove necessary if the Shadowen threat is to
be ended. But whose insight is it—mine or Allanon’s? Can I
trust it, I wonder? Is it a truth or a fiction? ”
The old man shook his head. “I think you must discover that
for yourself. I think Allanon wants it that way. Hasn’t it always
been left to the Ohmsfords to discover the truth of things on
their own? Gamesplaying, you once called it. But isn’t it really
much more than that? Isn’t it the nature of life? Experience
comes from doing, not from being told. Experiment and dis-
cover. Seek and find. It is not the machinations of the Druids
that compel us to do so; it is our need to know. It is, in the
end, the way we learn. I think it must be your way as well,
Walker.”
What should be done first, they decided, was to find out
what had become of the other scions of Shannara—Par, Coil,
and Wren. Had they fulfilled the charges they had been given?
Where were they and what secrets had they uncovered in the
weeks that had passed since their meeting at the Hadeshom?
“Par will have found the Sword of Shannara or be searching
for it,” Walker declared. They sat within the Druid study, the
The Talismans of Shannara 33
Histories spread out before them, perused this time for partic-
ulars that Walker remembered from his previous readings and
now understood differently with the knowledge his transforma-
tion had wrought. “Par was driven in his quest. He was all iron
and determination. Whatever the rest of us chose to do, he
would not have given up.”
“Nor Wren either, I think,” the old man offered thoughtfully.
“There was as much iron in her, though it was not so appar-
ent.” He met Walker’s gaze boldly. “Allanon’s shade sensed
what would drive each of you, and I think no one ever really