himself, but he was helpless.
Not this! he thought in terror. Don’t let it happen!
He twisted and kicked and tore at the other, but Rimmer
Dall’s Shadowen self was pressing into him, entering through
his skin. The feeling was cold and dark and filled him with
self-loathing. Once, he could have prevented this, he sensed.
Once, when the magic was out of control and driven by his
fear and doubt, he would have been strong enough to keep the
other away. Rimmer Dall had known this. The First Seeker’s
thoughts brushed up against his own, and he shrank from what
they revealed. Someone help me! He caught a glimpse of
movement to his left, and Morgan Leah surged forward, howl-
ing. But Rimmer Dall struck out with his gloved hand, releas-
ing Par for the barest instant, and Morgan disappeared in a
flash of red fire, tumbling away again into the dark. The hand
returned, fastening on Par anew. The Valeman had retreated
down inside himself where his magic was strongest, gathering
it into an iron core. But Rimmer Dall closed on it relentlessly,
pressing in, squeezing. Par could feel even that part of himself
giving way …
Then abruptly the First Seeker was jerked backward, and his
Shadowen self tore free of Par. Par gasped and blinked and
saw Walker Boh with his good hand closed on Rimmer Dall’s
throat, the Druid fire racing down its length. He was singed
and scraped, and his face was as white as chalk beneath the
black beard and streaks of blood. But Walker Boh was a study
in raw determination as he brought the force of his magic to
426 The Talismans of Shannara
bear on his enemy. Rimmer Dall surged upward with a roar,
flailing with his gloved hand, the Shadowen magic scattering
everywhere. Something in what W?lker was doing to him was
keeping Rimmer Dail separated from his corporeal body, his
Shadowen self held just outside and beyond. Both parts strug-
gled to reunite, but Walker was between them, blocking them
from each other.
Par staggered backward and then came to his feet again.
Walker’s fingers closed into a fist, squeezing something within
the Shadowen. Rimmer Dall thrashed and screamed, his rangy
form surging upward and shuddering with fury. Shadowen fire
burned downward into the floor, coring into the stone. Other
Shadowen raced to give aid, but Rumor lunged between them,
tearing and ripping.
“Use the Sword!” Walker Boh hissed at Par. “Set it free!”
Par snatched up the blade and raced for the light. He
reached it in seconds, unchallenged now, all eyes on the battle
between the Druid and the First Seeker. He came up to it, this
vast, pulsing mass with its scarlet-ribboned chains, and holding
the Sword of Shannara in both hands, he laid it flat against me
light.
Then he summoned its magic, willing it forth, praying it
would come.
And come it did, rising up smoothly, easily, free of the con-
straints the wishsong’s mag;c had imposed when his fears and
doubts and Rimmer Dall’s trickery had convinced him he was
a Shadowen. It came swiftly, a white beacon that speared into
the light before it, then raced back again to swallow Par whole.
Par saw anew the truths of his life, the truths of his magic, of
his Shannara and Shadowen heritage, and of his Elven ances-
try. He breathed them in like the air that gave him life and did
not flinch away.
Then he saw finally the truth of the light before him. He
saw what the Shadowen had done, how they had used their
magic to subvert the Four Lands. He saw the meaning behind
the dreams of Allanon, and the reason for the summoning of
the children of Shannara to the Hadeshom. He saw what it was
that he must do.
He drew back the magic of the Sword and dropped the blade
to the cavern floor. Behind him, Rimmer Dall and Walker Boh
The Talismans of Shannara 427
sail thrashed in a combat that seemed to have no end. The First
Seeker was shrieking—not in pain at what was being done to
him, but in fury at what Par was about to do. There were