ing three, catching them bunched tightly together and entirely
unprepared. Fire exploded everywhere, engulfing them. The
serpents reared and clawed in fury, wheeling about in an effort
to escape. Walker sent the fire in front of their eyes so that
they could not see and into their nostrils so that they could not
smell, so that it clogged their senses and drove them mad. The
Shadowen slammed up against one another, blinded and con-
fused.
I’ve got them! Walker thought in elation.
His strength was draining from him fast, but he did not re-
lent. He dropped the spell of invisibility, saving as much of
himself as he could, and pressed the attack further, willing the
magic into fire, willing the fire to consume. One of the Horse-
men broke free, steaming and spitting like embers kicked by a
boot. It was Pestilence, the strange body come apart into a
buzzing swarm of darkness, all of its shape and definition lost.
Famine had gone down, horse and rider writhing on the earth
in a desperate effort to extinguish the flames that were con-
suming them. Death spun out of control, wheeling in a frenzy.
Then the impossible happened. Through smoke and flame,
come back from where it had fled stricken and ruined. War re-
appeared atop its serpent mount.
But War had become whole again.
Walker stared in disbelief. He had severed the Horseman at
the midpoint of its body, seen the top half fall away, and now
War was back together, looking as if nothing had been done to
it at all.
It charged Walker, closing the distance between them,
armored body leaning forward eagerly, metal gleaming in the
faint dawn light. Walker could hear the thunder of the clawed
154 The Talismans of Shannara
feet, the rasp of breathing, the shriek of armor, and the whistle
of air giving way before its coming.
It wasn ‘t possible!
Instinctively Walker shifted the magic to meet the attack,
gathering it in one final burst. It caught the Horseman and its
mount in a whirlwind of fire and spun them away, sweeping
them off the pathway circling the castle and down into the
trees where they disappeared with a crash.
But there was no time to follow up the attack. The remain-
ing Horsemen had recovered themselves. Death pivoted toward
him, gray-cloaked and hooded, gleaming scythe lowered. Pes-
tilence followed, hissing like a sackful of snakes, its body tak-
ing shape as it came. Walker cut Death’s serpent’s legs from
beneath it and sent both tumbling in a heap. By then Pestilence
was almost on top of him. He jumped aside, cat quick. But the
Horseman’s outstretched fingers grazed him as it passed.
Instantly a wave of nausea swept through Walker. He
dropped to his knees, weakened and dazed. Just a touch had
been all! He swung about to track Pestilence and sent a new
lance of fire into the Shadowen’s dark back. Pestilence broke
apart in a swarm of black flies.
Everything seemed to slow down for Walker Boh. He
watched Famine approach in a heavy, sluggish, lurching rush.
He tried to respond, but his strength seemed to have deserted
him. He was aware of the day beginning, of new light bright-
ening the eastern horizon, diffusing in thick, syrupy streamers
across the trailing robes of departing night. He could feel the
air, could taste and smell it, the scents of fresh leaves and
grasses mingling with dust and heat. Paranor was a monstrous
stone shadow at his elbow, close enough to touch and yet im-
possibly far.
He should not have dropped his cloak of invisibility. He had
lost any advantage he had possessed.
He sent fire lancing into Famine and turned its attack aside,
the Horseman’s skeletal body hunching and breaking apart
from the blow.
Dead, but not really. Walker thought, feeling himself turning
feverish and hot.
The horsemen swarmed back from all directions, serpents
rising up and converging on him. Why wouldn’t they die?
The Talismans of Shannara 155
How could they keep coming? The questions rolled thickly off
his tongue, and he was aware suddenly that he was speaking
them aloud, that a sort of delirium was settling in. He was im-