all over him. Par howled in fury and sent the magic of the
wishsong hammering into them, thrusting them aside. Fire
burned back at him from above and on all sides, but from be-
neath his magic’s armor he shrugged it away.
Coli was on his hands and knees when Par reached him,
bloodied and torn. He lifted his face so that he could see Par
and then shoved the Sword of Shannara at him.
“Go on!” he said, and collapsed.
Par snatched up the Sword and started forward, the acrid
smell of ash and fire thick in his nostrils. Go on and do what?
He was aware of Morgan standing alone now, the dark-haired
girl fallen as well. He could no longer see Walker or Rimmer
Dall. He felt his strength beginning to fail, the consequence of
sustained use of his magic. He would have to be quick, what-
424 The Talismans of Shannara
ever he did. He stumbled ahead, nearing the light, wondering
anew what it was and what he was supposed to do with it.
Should he free it? Wasn’t that what Walker had said they had
come into Southwatch to do? If it was a prisoner of the
Shadowen, then it should be freed. But what was it? He was
not certain of anything. He was barely free himself, and his
own confusion still dragged at him with chains of its own.
He looked down at the Sword of Shannara, suddenly aware
that he was carrying it, that he had taken it from Coll. Why
had he done that? The Sword was not meant for him. It was
meant for Coll. He wasn’t even able to use it.
And then suddenly Rimmer Dall was standing before him,
wolf’s head gleaming in the light, dark robes shredded and
falling away. His hood was thrown back, and his red-bearded,
craggy face was washed in blood. He blocked Par from the
light, rising up before him. The gloved hand pulsed with crim-
son fire. When he smiled, it was a terrifying grimace.
“Come down to find what we keep hidden here? ” he asked,
his voice whispery and rough.
“Get out of my way,” Par ordered.
“Not anymore,” the other said, and Par suddenly realized
that the gloved arm was no longer gloved at all, that the fire
he was seeing was all there was of the arm, was what had laid
beneath the glove all along. “I’ve given you all the chances
you get, boy.”
There was no pretense of friendliness or concern now.
Loathing glittered in Rimmer Ball’s eyes, and his body was
knotted with rage. “You belong to me! You’ve always be-
longed to me! You should have given yourself to me when you
had the chance! It would have been easier that way!”
Par stared openmouthed.
“You’re mine!” Rimmer Dall swore in fury. “You still don’t
understand, do you? You’re mine. Par Ohmsford! Your magic
belongs to me!”
He came forward in a lunge, and Par barely had time to cry
out and throw up the wishsong’s magic to slow him. And slow
him was all it did. The First Seeker came through the shield as
if it were paper, and his hands locked on Par’s shoulders like
iron clamps. Par was vaguely aware of thinking that this was
what Rimmer Dall had wanted all along—the magic of the
The Talismans of Shannara
425
wishsong and Par’s body in which to wield it. All the pretenses
of wanting to help him control the magic had been a screen de-
signed to hide his ambition to own it. Like all the Shadowen,
Rimmer Dall craved the magic in others, and few had the
magic of Par.
He was thrown back by the other’s weight, bent down, and
forced to his knees. The Sword of Shannara dropped from his
nerveless fingers. He brought his hands up to fight the other
off. summoning the magic to his defense, but it was as if all
his strength had been leeched from him. He could barely
breathe as the other’s shadow enfolded him. Rimmer Dall be-
gan to come out of his body and enter Par’s. The Valeman saw
it happening, felt it beginning. He screamed and fought to free