River Of Life (Book 3) (10 page)

As Erelon turned back to his bed, a blue flash in the hallway
arrested the wizard’s attention.  Quickly he was in the hallway in time to see
a little fluffy tail run around the corner, the sound of hard hooves gently
clipping the ground and growing more silent as time passed and the creature
distanced itself from the wizard.  Erelon grunted to himself.  It had been long
since seeing the blue spirit of the faun.  Swiftly he was following it, only
catching occasional glimpses.  Yet he was resolved to seize the little
creature.

Again it led him through the lobby and into the forest where it
seemed to glow brighter as the power of the moons was no longer blocked by the
rock walls or clouds.  Erelon no longer slinked behind trees but boldly walked
in the open, his body a dark mass as the moons lit up the light brown carpet of
pine needles.  Draos gently pulled on the rope that anchored it to a stake,
begging to be taken along, his ears twitching as the wizard passed on by. 
Slowly the faun, with light steps that made no noise on the soft carpet, led
Erelon back to the mountain and through an opening in the wall.  Erelon
cautiously watched, having not seen the entrance before, but as he sensed no
danger, he stepped through.

The crack led only one way.  The path turned corners and dodged
rocks.  All was covered in an unnatural blue, all felt at peace, almost as if
Erelon had stepped into some portal into the twilight world of the elves.  The
path quickly widened into an open oval chamber.   A tall, natural, rough spike
made of rock stood in the center gleaming.  The spike was almost like a crystal
as it glittered and radiated light, yet still it was not transparent.  It was
as if the spike gathered the power of the blue moon.  The faun returned to
where it had been spawned, the source of its own power and life.

“You must leave this castle.  You must leave the protective
walls.  Now is no longer the time to linger,” the faun said with a child’s
voice that was full of wisdom but lacked any hint of condemnation or
accusation.

“But to where?” Erelon asked with confusion.

“You will figure out what you do not already know on your way,”
the faun responded and then disappeared, its essence fading into the moons'
light.

Slowly, with pondering heavy footsteps, Erelon made his way
through the path.  As he exited the crack, the world grew dark as the moons
disappeared below a cloud.  With the passing of the moons, the entrance to the
faun’s retreat also vanished from the world.

Erelon stalked towards the meeting hall, falling in step with
Festor so that he could grumble, "Do you know all of the strongest wizards
and their traits, their skills, what they have mastered and what they
know?"

"Sure," Festor asked confused, "Why?"

"Compose a list and bring it to me.  I will pick out a
council to help you reform the system for ranking wizards.  It is out of
control at the moment.  Been that way since the wizard's council started
abusing their powers at Mortaz, giving high ranks to those who obeyed them rather
than those who deserved it.  I need to know who I can count on to help in the
next battle.  I need to know what their skills are, how good they are, and be
able to recognize them from their insignia.  At the moment I can not recognize
a novice from a veteran," Erelon grumbled.

Erelon walked into the council hall.  Hendle sat at the head of
the table, Erelon took a seat down from him toward the center.  Wizards slowly
sauntered into the council chambers.  Most were silent, yet a few had chosen to
be stubborn and obnoxious.

“About time another meeting was called.  Issues need to be
looked after,” one fat wizard said loud enough so that those assembled could
hear.

Pretending that they did not say biting sarcastic words, Erelon
could only smile.  He knew that the meeting would not go as the hateful wizards
wished, so Erelon said nothing.

“So Hendle gets to run the meetings again.  He’s worthless when
it comes to anything else,” one wizard said with heat.

“He’s only in control because Erelon supports him,” replied
another.

Finally all seats were filled.  Slowly Hendle stood to address
why the council had been called.

“Master Wizard Erelon wishes to address the wizards and the
community,” here Hendle stopped to raise his right hand toward those in the
balconies in a welcoming manner.  “I will now turn the meeting over to him,”
Hendle finished.

Slowly Erelon stood to allow the thoughts of the others to clear
before he started to speak.  Every bone in his body seemed to pop with
resistance.

After several moments of uncomfortable silence, he began, “Do
you all know how long I have been among you since my return?”

One spoke up, “A few years.”

“It is going on five to be exact,” Erelon replied, “And in all
that time the power of our enemy, warlocks—and yes I did say warlocks, for they
were once wizards; they are not of the ancient race of wraiths.  Their power
has grown as they have learned spells of the ancient world that should have
been left buried in the past.  They have attacked us, so now I will take it
back to them.  I will drive them from the walls, and afterwards. . . .
well-l-l, I do not know, but it will come to me.  In the time I am gone,
prepare for battle.  There will be more warriors, soldiers, coming in, some
wizards of Pendle and giants of the North, among others.  You will show them
respect, and you will house and feed them.”

“Battle!” several roared, others joining and causing a massive
upheaval.  “If you can destroy the wraiths without sending us to battle, why
cause more death?” one cried, and others chimed in with their agreement.

“Besides,” another began, “We are content right here in this
mountain. We no longer need Mortaz.”

Erelon looked at them, “It is not merely a possession; it is an
idea, a place where wizards can gather to study, and it was built using the
blood and labor of men to unite the wizards of the world in harmony.  There are
many places in the world where wizards gather, but always there will only be
one Mortaz.  Men, wizards, elves, dwarves long came to the great masterpiece
and achievement to feel it, to know what wizards learning in peace can create. 
Besides, those goblins still massed together as they are can cause great
trouble.  The goblins need to be scattered, and the bones of the skeleton
knights laid to rest.  Fight for pride and to find revenge for those who fell
at the Keep.”

Through Erelon’s mind, he watched his friend killed by the
dragbas as the old wizard had fought to keep Erelon and those who lived in the
Keep alive.

As Erelon had spoken and looked around the room, it had fallen
silent.  All the excuses he had given were true, but one of the greatest
reasons for why he needed the battle he did not share.  Erelon knew that his path
would not lead him to the battlefront.  Yalen and Bahsal were the only two that
might have guessed Erelon’s true destination.  Erelon needed this battle to
distract the warlocks from his true mission, the one in which Erelon would
truly destroy them.

“But what about manuscripts, artifacts?” another started
questioning, “Some of us wish to stay.”

“I am having copies of all manuscripts made.  Split the
originals and copies half and half.  As far as artifacts, these establishments
are for learning, not the collection of objects, though the search for them
might help you as wizards to learn.  Do with them as you wish, but do not argue
and fight, do not let the possession of worthless artifacts divide you.”

“And who's to lead us while you are gone?” another hissed,
knowing who Erelon would establish.

“Hendle has full cooperation and support of many of the wizards,
as well as the military which includes ours, the dwarves, elves, and those from
the South.  To cross him means to cross the military, many of those on the
wizard’s council, and me,” Erelon said without threat, knowing that what he had
just said would keep the uprising down.

"While I am gone, Festor will also be restructuring the
ranking system for the wizards.  It is out of control.  I pass by men who have
little to no magical abilities but wear more sashes
, robes and medals of significance
and rank than wizards who fought at Mortaz."

"And how do you know who controls magic," a fat
wizard blurted towards Erelon.

"When you control as much power as I do,"
Erelon hissed, "You can feel those around you who also control magic.  And
if I only controlled the pissant amount of power that you do, I would be
careful how boastfully I spoke at a council of wizards."  Erelon had
finished by angrily poking his finger at the man who sank into his chair.

"Festor is going to form a list of the most powerful
wizards, master wizards, and I will help him choose a council to decide on
categories that magical studies will be broken into, and then subcategories. 
This same council will decide on colors and emblems," Erelon looked around
as he finished.

“This meeting is dismissed,” Erelon commanded.

Slowly with disappointment, the council got up and left.  They
left, some in pairs, some alone, only a few groups over three, whispering their
agitation at not having been allowed to bring up grievances.  But that was not
the task of Erelon, to act as moderator and judge of petty accusations and
crimes among the wizards.  Again only Hendle and Erelon were left.

“Now what?” Hendle asked.

“Follow me,” Erelon commanded.

Only two men were there in the room, Hendle and Erelon.  Hendle
arguing his inability to control and handle the role of leadership, Erelon
reassuring Hendle that he would be fine.

“That is why I brought you up here,” Erelon said as he finished
packing a pair of saddle bags, “To give you something to help you.”

Erelon handed Hendle the Ice Staff and said, “You must talk and
act with confidence, only admit you are wrong when it is proven.  Just because
someone does not agree with you, does not mean that what you did was wrong.  Do
not apologize when someone disagrees with you, for if you do, they will have
you second guessing all that you do, all your decisions.  You will give them
power and confidence, and they will harass you until you resign.”

Erelon stepped from his door, packs over a shoulder, leaving
before the other wizard had a chance to argue.

The master wizard’s horse awaited him.  Erelon wore a new cape
with the insignia of the Staff of Saris on it.  Erelon’s friends were all there
to bid him farewell.

Bahsal shook the wizard’s hand silently, only to embrace him
strongly.

Festor looked at Erelon with a sigh and said, “Take care of
yourself,” while shaking his hand.

“Auri,” Erelon said as he turned to his newest friend to shake
his hand.  Auri had been his traveling companion since finding him below the
eaves of the Rusted Mountains.  Now Erelon was leaving him behind as he had
done so many others before.  The wizard’s only friends on this trip were his
horse and shadow.

Grism put a strong hand on Erelon’s shoulder and shook Erelon’s
hand with his other, saying, “You did some might good growing up these last
five to ten year.  I’m sure proud of ya.”

Finally Erelon turned to Yalen.  As Yalen shook the wizard’s
hand, he felt no warmth, an icy cold touch with no heart beat.  The elf’s eyes
grew sad.  It was a bad omen.  He did not completely know what it meant, but it
had never been good in the past, yet he kept this knowledge to himself.  He did
not want to disturb the others more than they already were.

Without any more words, Erelon climbed on Draos and headed him
in the direction of the gate.

The wizard sat before the gates as they began to open, allowing
him outside.  The walls had not seen an attack for several weeks now.  Only a
few goblin guards watched from within the trees, yet it was well known that
there was still a large army encamped within the forest.  Erelon held loosely
onto the reins with his right hand and allowed his left to fall straight down
at his side.

A goblin peered around the side of the wall cautiously, then
with growing courage stepped out and approached.

With a laugh like a gurgle, he stared at the wizard and asked,
“So you all have finally decided to surrender?”

“No,” Erelon began.

Below his hand a red glow began to appear.  Slowly a stone
descended, hovering just below the wizard’s palm, its color growing in strength
with each second.

“You know what this is?” Erelon asked even though he did not
care if the goblin did or did not.  “You know it because your bosses fear it. 
I do not want to destroy the forest, but clear out or I will take the ancient
trees along with you and your army.”

The goblin’s eyes grew bright as he recognized the Alsmah Stone
that contained the Sphere of Hell.  In an instant he vanished.  A few moments
and the shadow that sat on the forest, since the wraiths had begun their siege,
also disappeared.  Slowly Erelon walked his horse through the gates, the
magical stone still hovering below his hand.  The doors quickly shut behind.

Erelon was in no hurry.  The wizard knew where he was going, to
Mortaz.  He was going to face his enemy, to see how strong they had become. 
Here, he could get a glimpse of their military strength, the weird monster
creations that they had brought together.  There he hoped to catch them
unaware, unguarded, to learn exactly what he faced.  He turned his horse down
one way and then another.  None of the wraiths' army was to be seen.  Erelon
rode through quickly abandoned camps.  Tents and boxes were strewn around.

Campfires with still glowing embers watched as the wizard
passed.  Blue sky pierced the trees where they thinned.  He crossed a stream
with a small, smooth gravel floor.  The horse splashed, enjoying the cool
refreshing liquid spraying on its flesh.  The wizard navigated around several
deadfalls and boulders, ideal for places of ambush.  He passed through several
more creeks, casting waves of light on everything around them, causing an aura
of peace, an oasis of brotherhood.  The wizard allowed Draos to enjoy the world
of plenty, for he knew the farther north they traveled, the more the world
would become desolate.  The old horse pranced around, acting like he was young
again, full of the energy he had when Chaucer had first given him to Erelon.