River Of Life (Book 3) (3 page)

“Sure,” Auri replied without hesitation.

The others followed Auri out of the room as if they knew Erelon
needed to be left alone to ponder ideas and questions for which there were no
answers.  A cart rumbled by laden with plates, mugs, utensils for eating, and
rags.  In the corners were placed basins for water.  A grand feast was being
prepared.  The wizards planned to show off for their arriving guests — elves,
men, dwarves, from the greatest lords to grand warriors arriving to assist in
the upcoming battle.  For these, a party was going to be held.

Tonight the hall would be filled with guests dressed in bright
garments and laced with jewelry of the most precious metals and gems.  Together
they would dine and then dance to the music of multiple races.  Erelon had
already decided that he would not join the festivities.  More ceremonies,
socializing, it was all expected of him and made Erelon uncomfortable.  He was
not meant for these activities.  Just like standing on that stage only several
days after first arriving home, these activities were uncomfortable,
unnecessary.  He remembered back to when he had first survived the battle at Samos.  Even there, he had not felt at home at the party after.  For such an event, Hendle
would have to appear, representing Erelon’s wishes.

The wizard watched as the man from the kitchen began to set the
tables.  He worked alone, yet he had all day to finish.  This castle was a
hideout for men of magical talent, yet seldom had Erelon witnessed practical
use of these talents.  Rising from his seat, Erelon walked over to the cart,
and with a simple touch of his finger, all the non-living, unanimated objects
that had lay cold before him burst to life.  Dancing, turning, jumping, as if
each contained the emotion of joy, they placed themselves upon the tables.

The cook’s assistant witnessed with eyes of amazement as the
hand towels folded themselves, with no apparent assistance or outside force,
into pyramidal forms with geometric folds.  Each eating utensil was placed in
the right position.  Each sat perfectly spaced with the seat that would later
support a guest or host.  With eyes wide open, the man who had been setting up
stared at Erelon.  The wizard smirked and then, nodding his head, disappeared
through an exit.

Erelon passed down silent halls.  A few men and women walked
around the wizard, barely recognizing his presence.  Most were busy with work
of some kind, and the halls were mostly empty.

Finally the master wizard stepped into the main lobby where the
fountain dominated attention.  Around it the wizard passed and then began to
ascend the stairs when an urgent voice called his name, stopping him short of
his previously conceived destination.

“Yeah,” Erelon replied as he turned to face the man who had
addressed him.

“Auri sent me to let you know, Yalen and his warriors. . . They
are here.”

Erelon stared at the messenger for a moment before replying, “I
will wait for him here.  Hurry and bring him to me.”

Quickly the man was gone, racing through the main castle door. 
Whatever Erelon requested was done promptly.  Yet the wizard knew it would take
some time for the man to reach the wall and then return, so he stooped to rest
on the steps.  Several men passed him going up or down the stairs, their legs
brushing against him as they squeezed by.

Erelon stared at the empty door.  Boredom began to set in upon
the wizard’s mind.  Erelon was tired of living the same life.  He was
constantly on the move, never staying in one place very long.  He met plenty of
people, made many friends, but he was never around them very long to enjoy the
camaraderie.  Erelon was tired of always finding a fight.  He wanted to be able
to walk into a pub without meeting an assassin or go camping in the woods
without being disturbed by undead soldiers.  He wanted to be someone else, to
give this mission to a different unlucky person.  Yet Erelon knew he would see
the task to the end.  More people came and went, passing in and out of the
doors, some even ascending and descending the stairs to look down on the wizard
who sat there.

In a state of loneliness, Erelon watched the people come and go,
virtually no sound except a slight trickle of the fountain as the water flowed
over the stone and fell into the water basin below it.  Erelon wanted to trade
lives with someone who followed, someone who did not have to make the
decisions.  Erelon wanted a life that came free of the stress of forming plans
that would decide the fate of lives.  He wanted someone to tell him what to
do.  He wanted a life where at the end of the day he could go to the bar, have
a couple pints with a few friends, and then go home to a wife. 

A few of those that passed in and out whispered too low for
Erelon to understand what they said.  What they said did not matter, it only
furthered his feeling of being alone.  These friends had secrets.  They had
someone to confide in, someone to share their problems with.  Erelon only had
his shadow much of the time.  Time passed slowly as he did nothing but wait for
his friend.

A dark form shadowed the doorway, and as more men moved in
behind, the little light from the opening was cut off.  Yalen followed a young
man inside, the same messenger who had visited with Erelon earlier.  The elf
still looked young.  He seemed to have not aged a day except for when Erelon
looked into his eyes.  They showed the extra days he had seen, the history gone
by, the wisdom gained and experience learned through encountering events and
living through another age.

Yalen was a young elf, still he had already seen much in his
age.  Being immortal, he had many more ages to live.  In the years to come,
ages into the future, this elf would boast of knowing the wizard Erelon.  Yalen
would tell stories of having seen the wizard when Erelon was young.  The elf
would rave about having fought beside the wizard in the last few years that
belonged to the masterful magical man who seemed to have appeared from nowhere,
who seemed to have appeared from ashes.

The elf with fair hair and skin walked up to the wizard who
remained seated.  Watching this young elf that he had not seen in years. 
Erelon did not envy the elf’s immortality.  In this age, and then the next age,
and all the ages yet to come, Yalen would see death, destruction, bloody
battles, dictators, and famines.  During the destruction, friends would die. 
At the end, with old age, more of his friends would pass on, yet the elf would
never die.  Another age would bring a new threat and new friends who would also
die.  This cycle would continue until the elf himself died in battle or went
wherever old elves disappeared, a mystery that seemed hidden to even the elves.

“Well, here we are again,” Yalen commented, trying to break the
silence, hoping that Erelon would open up.  It had been long since they had
seen each other, and if they said nothing else, to recount adventures would be
fun, to tell of events both had seen and encountered, to allow the other some
insight into the life of his friend.

Looking upward, Erelon sadly stated, “So again we meet, only now
on the edge of a new battle.”

 “How many warriors did you bring?” Erelon questioned with
purpose.

“Between twenty and thirty,” Yalen answered with curiosity, not
quite sure of why the wizard was asking about the military power he possessed. 
The wizards should be strong enough to protect themselves, was the thought that
passed through the elf’s mind, and the battle for Mortaz had not started yet.

“Well there’s a banquet tonight that you and your friends have
been invited to attend.  I will not be there, but you should go,” Erelon
started and then continued on in the same breath, “But if you do not mind, I
have a request to ask of you.”

Erelon waited for a moment to see if Yalen was interested, and
as the elf answered, “Sure, anything,” the wizard continued.

“If you and your men would not drink too much, and would meet me
here in the morning, I have got some hunting that needs to be done.”

Yalen smiled, “Has anything to do with the creatures that were
shooting arrows our way as me and my men raced through your gates?”

“It might,” Erelon grinned as he looked up at his friend he had
seldom fought beside, but knew was very capable.

“What about your dwarvish friends?” Yalen asked, “I know that
they are here.”

“A dwarve, walking through the forest and fighting without
making a sound. . . .?” Erelon asked sarcastically.

With a chuckle, Yalen replied, “I see your point.”

The master wizard sat on the lip of the basin that surrounded
the fountain in the lobby.  The sun had barely begun to rise, and the hall was
dimly lit, causing all motionless objects to easily blend into their
surroundings.  Erelon wore a dark leather cloak, covering his light-weight
brown deerskin clothes below.

Knives that studded his body caught the thin light and reflected
it.  He wore a leather strap across his chest.  Every alternating blade was a
small throwing dagger.  The others were knives for stabbing, no more than large
spikes with a round oval end that set in the palm of the wielder’s hand,
allowing the spike to protrude from between the middle fingers.  Erelon
preferred to aim for the temple with these knives.  He also wore his two long
knives and his elvish sword.

For the first moment in many years, Erelon also packed a quiver
filled with arrows whose feathered ends became a tuft behind the wizard’s
head.  A short bow hung from the quiver.  He waited the arrival of his posse. 
Slowly the elves drifted in.  They were silent.

Only few elves packed large swords, but many of them were armed
with a long bow and knives.  They wore weapons more suitable for the quick and
quiet attack.  None said a word.  Most were fair skinned, and all were slim. 
Most were blond, but a few had dark hair.  All had eyes bright like stars, yet
deep within, Erelon could sense their real age even though their bodies did not
show it.

Yalen appeared beside Erelon, and after a few moments with no
others slipping in, Erelon queried, “Is this all of them?”

“Not sure,” Yalen replied and then began to scan the faces of
all his friends and finally answered, “Yeah.  Twenty-three of us, not including
yourself and me.”

“Okay.  Then let us go,” the wizard said hastily.  Quickly
everyone stepped outside where horses waited.  As one, all mounted and, turning
their horses, followed Erelon into the forest paths.  Occasionally a bird would
flutter through the trees, sensing the presence of the warriors, yet it could
not be seen in the vague morning light.  No talking was heard from the men,
only a low creak of a leather saddle or the graze of horse flesh against brush.

It was as if the goblins were within visual distance.  If anyone
even released the slightest breath, they feared the entire wraith’s army might
come down on them.  It was the silence of warriors who knew what was coming. 
Instead of boasting and telling stories of previous fights, they kept quiet and
calm, meditating.

The wizard led them to a gate on the very edge of the forest. 
It was not the one by which he had first entered.  It would allow for them to
creep up on the goblins instead of stepping directly into the middle of any
that might be waiting at the main gate within the forest.

In the clearing before the wall, the hunters left their horses. 
Dismounting, they strolled over to a door that led into a chamber below a
watchtower, which had a secret door within its walls.  The door was invisible
to the eye, such was the craftsmanship of the dwarves.

Erelon turned to Yalen and quickly told the plan, “Pick eight of
your best archers.  Put them a couple steps behind.  They are to take out any
goblins that might be watching from the tops of the trees or may be too far
away from us to reach with knives.  There are between ten to fifteen goblins to
an elf.  Hopefully we can destroy the majority of them before they know we have
arrived.  I am hoping for no casualties or deaths.  I have several caravans
coming in over the next couple of weeks starting today.  I do not need any of
the wagons destroyed or those driving injured.  The only enemies in these trees
are goblins, and I am going to try to get as many supplies within the walls as
possible before anything larger and stronger joins the enemy forces to help
besiege us.  Let us make this quick and efficient.  We might even make it back
in time for breakfast.”

Into the dark room within the wall, the hunters filed, Yalen
sorting through his friends and giving individual instructions.  The elves followed
the barely visible wizard before them.  He appeared to be no more than a ghoul
in the early morning.  On the other side of the protecting wall, the forest was
barely more than a minute’s walk.  Silently they slipped into the trees,
beginning to separate, creating a line while at the same moment keeping everyone
in view.

The forest was mostly clean.  Brush did not grow in abundance. 
However, many fallen limbs crossed the paths of the elves, and twigs and limbs,
dried and dead, were covered in drying leaves.  Yet the elves still made no
noise, and the wizard seemed to hover above it all.

A few trees with small rounded leaves and thin intertwining
branches grew among the majestic trees.  These smaller brushy trees protected
thicker ground cover and choked off the paths.  Sometimes the brush could be
maneuvered around, and occasionally they would have to fight through it as
quietly as possible while the woody brush grabbed at their clothing and
threatened to rip their garments.

Gliding from tree to tree, each member of the hunting party
swiftly proceeded while looking around.  They assured themselves that none of
the enemy was around before moving onward.  The forest was still gloomy, filled
with angry shadows that caused the landscape to blend together.  Cautiously,
Erelon looked for any signs of movement.  A goblin, with its gray-hued skin and
hair, would easily hide in the early morning light.