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The Talismans of Shannara

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Overview

Although some of the goals to keep Shannara safe had been met, the work of Walker Boh, Wren, and Par was not yet done. For The Shadowmen still swarmed over the Four Lands, poisoning all with their dark magic. Each Shannaran had a special death waiting for him- at the hands of The Shadowmen-unless Par could find a way to free them all with the Sword of Shannara.

Editorial Reviews

Brooks's resounding, action-filled conclusion to the Heritage of Shannara series was a nine-week PW bestseller. (Mar.) -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.

Author Information

Bio of Terry Brooks

Terry Brooks is the New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty-five books, including the Genesis of Shannara novels Armageddon's Children and The Elves of Cintra; The Sword of Shannara; the Voyage of the Jerle Shannara trilogy: Ilse Witch, Antrax, and Morgawr; the High Druid of Shannara trilogy: Jarka Ruus, Tanequil, and Straken; the nonfiction book Sometimes the Magic Works: Lessons from a Writing Life; and the novel based upon the screenplay and story by George Lucas, Star Wars(r): Episode I The Phantom Menace.(tm) His novels Running with the Demon and A Knight of the Word were selected by the Rocky Mountain News as two of the best science fiction/fantasy novels of the twentieth century. The author was a practicing attorney for many years but now writes full-time. He lives with his wife, Judine, in the Pacific Northwest.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Random House

Filesize

605.17 KB

Number of Pages

464

eBook ISBN

9780345445452

Excerpt from: The Talismans of Shannara by Terry Brooks

Dusk settled down about the Four Lands, a slow graying of light, a gradual lengthening of shadows.
The swelter of the late summer day began to fade as the sun's red fireball sank into the west and
the hot, stale air cooled. The hush that comes with day's end stilled the earth, and leaves and
grass shivered with expectation at the coming of night.

At the mouth of the Mermidon where it emptied into the Rainbow Lake,
Southwatch rose blackly, impenetrable and voiceless. The wind brushed
the waters of the lake and river, yet did not approach the obelisk, as
if anxious to hurry on to some place more inviting. The air shimmered
about the dark tower, heat radiating from its stone in waves, forming
spectral images that darted and flew. A solitary hunter at the water's
edge glanced up apprehensively as he passed and continued swiftly on.

Within, the Shadowen went about their tasks in ghostly silence, cowled
and faceless and filled with purpose.

Rimmer Dall stood at a window looking out on the darkening countryside, watching the color fade from the earth as the night crept stealthily out of the east to gather in its own.

The night, our mother, our comfort.