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The Talisman is a 1984 fantasy novel by Stephen King and Peter Straub. The plot is not related to that of Walter Scott's 1825 novel of the same name, although there is one oblique reference to "a Sir Walter Scott novel." The Talisman was nominated for both the Locus and World Fantasy Awards in 1985. King and Straub followed up with a sequel, Black House (2001), that picks up with a now-adult Jack as a retired Los Angeles homicide detective trying to solve a series of murders in the small town of French Landing, Wisconsin.
The book is dedicated to the authors' mothers: "This book is for Ruth King, Elvena Straub."
Jack Sawyer, twelve years old, sets out from Arcadia Beach, New Hampshire in a bid to save his mother, who is dying from cancer, by finding a crystal called "the Talisman." Jack's journey takes him simultaneously through the American heartland and "the Territories," a strange fantasy land which is set in a universe parallel to that of Jack's America. Individuals in the Territories have "twinners," or parallel individuals, in our world. Twinners' births, deaths, and (it is intimated) other major life events are usually paralleled. Twinners can also "flip" or migrate to the other world, but only share the body of their alternate universe's analogue. When flipped, the Twinner, or the actual person, will automatically start speaking and thinking the language of where they are flipping into subconsciously.
The Talisman is a novel by Sir Walter Scott. It was published in 1825 as the second of his Tales of the Crusaders, the first being The Betrothed.
The Talisman takes place at the end of the Third Crusade, mostly in the camp of the Crusaders in Palestine. Scheming and partisan politics, as well as the illness of King Richard the Lionheart, are placing the Crusade in danger. The main characters are the Scottish knight Kenneth, a fictional version of David of Scotland, Earl of Huntingdon, who returned from the third Crusade in 1190; Richard the Lionheart; Saladin; and Edith Plantagenet, a relative of Richard.
During a truce between the Christian armies taking part in the third Crusade, and the infidel forces under Sultan Saladin, Sir Kenneth, on his way to Syria, encountered a Saracen Emir, whom he unhorsed, and they then rode together, discoursing on love and necromancy, towards the cave of the hermit Theodoric of Engaddi. This hermit was in correspondence with the pope, and the knight was charged to communicate secret information. Having provided the travellers with refreshment, the anchorite, as soon as the Saracen slept, conducted his companion to a chapel, where he witnessed a procession, and was recognised by the Lady Edith, to whom he had devoted his heart and sword. He was then startled by the sudden appearance of the dwarfs, and, having reached his couch again, watched the hermit scourging himself until he fell asleep.
When I stand and look
About the port
And contemplate my life, will I
Ever see my countrymen again?
As the captain calls us on the deck
I take my things and walk
To the harbourside, I glance back
One last time.
Fleeing our nation, our problems
We leave behind.
Ships by the tenfold sail
Out on the tide.
We are pleased to be out and
Embracing the open sea.
Free from our troubles
And more free from thee.
Inheritors unfulfilled reason
Behind us.
We flee from what is not what
Is will be.
We flee the earth and face our
Harsh reality.
Will death be low mist that
Hangs on the sea?
We run from the evil tongues, rash
Judgements, selfish men
Never to be seen on these
Shores again.
As we sail into oceansize
And lose sight of all land
A face of contentment
Around in the air.
We’re off now to
Seek all our fortunes.
To the land of our dreams.
Riding the waves and the storm
Is upon us.
The winds lash the sails but
The ropes keep them tight.
Off in the distance a dark cloud
Approaching.
None could imagine what there
Was to come.
No, there’s no one going back.
No, there’s not a second chance.
As we strap onto the side
We pray to God that we don’t die.
As we ride the rough seas,
As we soak from the ocean waves,
I just hope for all our lives
And pray that I survive.
Four ships are lost in the
Stormy conditions.
The spirits of the sunken crews,
Their phantoms follow us.
Spirits, sails, they drive us on
Through the all consuming waves.
Cold mortality, no weapon
Against these ever raging seas.
Four leagues and ten and we
Hit storms again.
We just can’t get away from
The eye of the storm.
The birds outsoar the raging storm
But we cannot escape it.
Abandoned earth that we
Now crave
Is many leagues from safe.
Holding on for our dear lives
And we’re praying once again.
Rotten luck or just jonahed?
The talisman is in my hand.
Limbds fatigues, trembling with cold.
Blinded from the sea spray salt.
Clasping anything we can hold.
Heave’s rain upon us falls.
Twenty days without a meal
And ten without fresh water still.
Those that didn’t die in storms
The scurvy rest did slaughter.
Westwards the tide.
Westwards we sail on.
Westwards the tide.
Sail by the talisman.
We approach the other side
Of the ocean with the tide
In our favour just for once.
Welcome greeting, our new land.
The elation in our hearts,
The excitement in our veins
As we sail towards the coastline
Of our golden promised land.
Weary limbs fatigued away.
I have no life left in me.
No more strength and nothing
Left to give.
Must find the will to live.
Never thought that we could
Make it.
Truly sight of shores divine.
The sickness I am dying from.
Never wanted it to end this way.
Westwards the tide.
Westwards we sail on.
Westwards the tide.