A hint of recognition showing in the maddened eyes.
“Come close to me. Par.”
“Damson7 ” he whispered suddenly.
“Yes,” she answered, smiling, the tears streaking her face
now. “I love you. Par Ohmsford.”
For a long moment he did not move, standing on the stairs
in the gloom as if carved from stone while the magic raced
down his limbs and about his body. Then he sobbed in re-
sponse, something coming awake within him that had been
sleeping before, and he squeezed his eyes shut in concentra-
tion. His body shook, convulsed, and the magic flared once
and died away. His eyes opened again. “Damson,” he whis-
pered, seeing her now, seeing them all, and swayed forward.
She caught him as he fell, and instantly Walker was there,
too, and then all of them, reaching for the Valeman and bring-
ing him down into the hall, holding him upright, searching his
ravaged face.
“I can’t breathe anymore,” he whispered to them. “I can’t
breathe.”
410 The Talismans of Shannara
Damson was holding him close, whispering back that it was
all right, that he was safe now, that they would get him away
But Walker saw the truth in Par Ohmsford’s eyes. He was wag-
ing a battle with the wish&ong’s magic that he was losing.
Whatever was happening to him, he needed to confront it now,
to be set free of the fears and doubts that had plagued him for
weeks.
“Coil,” he said quietly as’ they lowered Par to his knees and
let him collapse against Damson. “Use the Sword of Shannara.
Don’t wait any longer. Use it.”
Coil stared back at the Dark Uncle uncertainly. “But I’m not
sure what it will do.”
Walker Boh’s voice turned as hard as iron. “Use the Swora,
Coll. Use it, or we’re going to lose him!”
Coil turned away quickly and knelt next to Par and Damson.
He held the Sword of Shannara before him, both hands knot-
ting on its handle. It was his talisman to use, but the conse-
quences of that use his to bear.
“Morgan, watch the stairs,” Walker Boh ordered. “Matty
Roh, the halls.” He moved toward Par. “Damson, let him go.”
Damson Rhee stared upward with stricken eyes. There was
unexpected warmth in Walker’s gaze, a mix of reassurance and
kindness. “Let him go. Damson,” he said gently. “Move
away.”
She released Par, and the Valeman slumped forward. Coil
caught him, cradled him in his arms momentarily, then took
his brother’s hands and placed them on the handle of the
Sword beneath his own. “Walker,” he whispered beseechingly.
“Use it!” the Dark Uncle hissed.
Morgan glanced over uneasily. “I don’t like this. Wal-
ker …”
But he was too late. Coil, persuaded by the strength ot
Walker Boh’s command, had summoned forth the magic. The
Sword of Shannara flared to life, and the dark well of the
Shadowen keep was flooded with light.
Wrapped in a choking cloud of paralyzing indecision and
devastating fear. Par Ohmsford felt the Sword’s magic pene-
trate like fire out of darkness, burning its way down into him
The magic of the wishsong rose to meet it, to block it, a white
The Talismans of Shannara 411
wall of determined silence. Protective doors flew closed
within, locks turned, and the shivering of his soul rocked him
back on his heels. He was aware, vaguely, that Coil had sum-
moned the Sword’s magic, that the power to do so was some-
how his where it had not been Par’s, and there was a sense of
things being turned upside down. He retreated from the mag-
ic’s approach, unable to bear the truth it might bring, wanting
only to hide away forever within himself.
But the magic of the Sword of Shannara came this time with
the weight of his brother’s voice behind it, pressing down
within him. Listen, Par. Listen. Please, listen. The words eased
their way past the wishsong’s defenses and gave entry to what
followed. He thought it was Coil’s words alone at first that
breached his defenses, that let in the white light. But then he
saw it was something more. It was his own weary need to