River Of Life (Book 3)

by Paul Drewitz

  Erelon shrugged into his cloak, grabbed at his hat, and threw the leather bags over his left shoulder. He scanned the room one last time to make sure that he had not left anything behind and started for the door. Before Erelon’s hand touched the cold knob, it burst open.

  Easton was staring at Erelon, his face white and sweating, mouth hanging open, “Do you know where the stone is? I forgot about it, I don’t know where it is. It’s gone.”

  Erelon indicated the saddlebags he was holding by shrugging his left shoulder and replied, “Yeah, I figured the stone slipped your mind. I took it.”

  Easton let out a gasp, his whole body sagging as the anxiety left. Erelon patted Easton’s shoulder as he squeezed by the younger wizard and through the door.

  Erelon put the key in Easton’s hands and said, “Lock up. Go see the girl. I’ll get the horses ready.”

  Erelon strutted out of the building. His right hand was free, though he did not expect any trouble. The sky had lightened as the clouds were a little thinner, and the atmosphere was fairly clear as there was no mist and the fog had been mostly burned off by the additional sunlight and warmth.

  Erelon tried to avoid walking across streets that were mud. At times, he happened onto a part of the city with a little more money, and their roads had been filled with stone. But their roads were still filled with trash, dirt, and hay. A very unpleasant little village Erelon had decided. He no longer questioned the reasons for Kit wanting to leave and see more of the world.

  Erelon crossed another street, each step causing a vacuum as his boots sucked at the mud. Erelon stepped into the door of the stables. All the horses turned their necks, looking at the wizard with large eyes. The wizard threw his bags to the floor before throwing a blanket on Draos, followed by the bridle and saddle. He cinched everything tight. Then the saddle bags went next. The bag the stone was in Erelon buried in the other packs of general supplies that he later strapped to the pack horse.

  Just as Erelon finished saddling Easton’s horse, the younger wizard stepped through the door, Kit holding onto his arm.

  “Ready?” Easton asked.

  “Yep,” Erelon answered.

  Easton wrapped his arms around the girl. He clutched at her tightly, pulling her so close that he could feel the warmth of her chest warming his own. His hands clutched at her smooth firm waist. He could feel her warm breath against his neck and his leather shirt pinch just a little as she clutched at it.

  Erelon knew that the girl did not trust him, as last time Erelon took Easton, they had not returned quickly. Erelon raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes as Easton and Kit tried to make the moment last longer. Before the older wizard could witness any other activities, he nudged Draos, walking his horse from the stables and leading the other two.

  Outside, Erelon waited, watching as people traveled up and down the street. A few looked up toward the wizard, but his stern stare with one charcoal gray eye sent them hurrying down the street.

  Easton came out the stable door without a word and took the reins from Erelon and mounted his own horse. Erelon led the way through the streets at a quick pace. They would add several weeks to their trip. Though Erelon did not want to wear out the horses and was not anxious to get home or for the fight ahead, the older wizard did wish to see this mission over.

  Erelon sent his horse trotting quickly out the west road of town, which led down a slope with an easy grade. Once Sine was out of sight, Erelon sent Draos through a field of corn, the leaves already brushing Erelon’s knee. Erelon stopped at a creek long enough for the horses to drink and for Easton to look back in the direction of Sine.

  “So what promises did you have to make so that she would let you go?” Erelon asked.

  “Hopefully some I can keep,” Easton said with regret in his voice.

  Chapter 14

  THE two wizards topped a hill. It was an early morning, the sun was rising, but it was not soon enough to clear the heavy fog. Other hills rose above the fog, each spear of grass gleaming with the water coating its surface. The vapor gently moved, almost swaying. It drifted into the trees to the wizard’s right. The mountains were still close enough to tower over the men. Erelon did not plan on leaving the shadow of the mountains until it became absolutely necessary.

  The mountains offered food and places in which to hide. Also, the farther west the wizards traveled, the more like a desert it would become. Here, the weather was mild, comfortable. Travel was easy. Their cloaks were rolled and packed behind their saddles. Erelon wore his swords openly, proudly bearing both the weapon of the elves and his mentor.

  Erelon observed the world around him, empty and large. His heart sank into his stomach; they were not close to the family that would ferry him, his horses, and his friend across the river. Erelon had a strong impulse to let Draos do what the horse loved, to run—run through the goblins ahead instead of going around. Yet, as his eyes looked over Easton and the other two horses, Erelon remembered the other horses could not move nearly as fast, and not as long either. The fog moved and Erelon could see over several hills to where small dark objects crawled over the surface of the land.

  “Let us get off this rise,” Erelon said nervously.

  They led their horses down the backside, into a small grove of trees, across a stream, and into a small valley. Erelon led around some deadfalls and into grass that rose above Draos’s chest. Erelon continued to look toward the direction where he had observed the enemy’s pawns.

  “The power that lies in the mountain forest, the one that can overpower the wraiths, the power that the blonde mentioned, you wouldn’t know anything about it?” Easton asked, laughing, knowing the answer.

  “Nope,” Erelon answered without a smile, not amused.

  A cool breeze blew through, bouncing off the hills, cooling Erelon’s body and mind. Soon the close proximity of the enemy slipped from the wizard’s mind. The fog burned off as the sun climbed higher into the sky and finally looked down onto the two men. Though the air was mild, Erelon still began to stick to his saddle. The older wizard could hear his saddle bags flapping against his horse’s flanks, the air causing the grass to sigh as it swayed. The warm sun and the rocking motion of the horse began to lull Erelon’s mind to sleep. Soon his eyes were closing, only to pop back open as he forced himself to try to stay alert.

  Easton followed without making a sound. He knew the path and had nothing to ask Erelon. Easton also felt the need for silence, for meditation and reflection. Traveling in the valleys, along the bottoms of the hills, made progress a little slower as they had to cross streams and forge a path through brush. Erelon did not wish to show himself to the enemy, so for several days they continued facing the brush.

  Fog always drifted through in the early mornings, looking like a phantom. But by mid morning, the fog had been burned off. Two hills of dark grass rose to both sides of the men. Between the hills, the atmosphere seemed to grow dim and ice cold. Sickles of ice even grew on the stone and trees. The fog had more mass. Erelon pulled Draos to a stop. Easton almost ran his horse into Draos and for a moment thought about pushing on past the leading wizard. Easton was a little impatient to reach Suragenna and then rush back to Sine, but the look on Erelon’s face brought him to a halt.

  Erelon’s eyes strained into the darkness beyond, feeling something Easton had missed in his impatience. A sharp high-pitched cackle answered the question of both men.

  “Banshees,” Easton squeaked and made ready to bolt.

  Erelon held up his hand and held his position for a moment longer before finally pulling back on the reins of his horse. Erelon found a path that led around the valley, pushing brush out of the way, at times even having to roll a few boulders or cut deadfalls. To everyone, banshees were still an enigma, and Erelon did not have the time, energy, or health to fight something of which he had little knowledge.

  Erelon began to focus more attention on the path before, checking for signs of goblin activity, the habitations of people as he assumed
they were coming close to the border of Sirus, or other obstacles. As more rocks began to force their way from the earth’s surface and the grass grew shorter, Erelon knew that he had entered the edges of Sirus.

  Erelon turned his horse more toward the West, guiding Draos toward the river. Erelon grew braver, traveling on higher ground where there was no brush. There were no goblins to be seen. The country was clear except for a few cattle spotting other hills and an occasional stone fence enclosing a hut.

  Erelon avoided civilization though Easton hungered for it. The country was huge, and the enemy did not yet know where the wizards had disappeared. Erelon wished to keep it this way. Erelon feared that the wraiths may have spies in the inhabited places of Sirus, especially as this was their next planned conquest. Erelon did not wish to take such a risk of exposure.

  The men could smell the river days before they saw it. The water reeked. It smelled of water that had set for ages, brewing and spoiling decomposed animals and plants. The stench rolled over the hills and struck the men, assailing their nostrils and causing powerful migraines until their senses of smell grew numb.

  A small town sat on stilts a few hundred feet from the river’s banks. The town’s boardwalks were above the heads of the two men, even as they sat on their horses. A dark water line marked on the stilts the height the river rose to during flood seasons.

  Blocks of corn and rice had been planted. Irrigation had been built to move water from the river to keep the rice swamped. The rice had not grown knee deep yet, but the corn was already even with Draos’s back. Erelon could see where the corn parted as some farmer pushed a path through.

  Erelon turned to Easton and said, “Stay here. I am going up. We need a few supplies. Watch the horses.”

  Erelon grabbed a wooden ladder that hung from the walk above and pulled himself up. The boardwalk meandered around, connecting all the buildings. The paths all seemed to draw him in one direction, leading into a central square. From this square, the boardwalk seemed to have been built in random directions, connecting wherever houses had been built to accommodate the gently rising population.

  From the boardwalk, the river could be seen flowing slowly as it was muddy and thick. Flies and giant mosquitoes hovered above the perfect breeding area like a black cloud.

  A few boats floated along in the sludge. A narrow dock trailed a short distance into the river, and many boats had been tied along its south edge. Erelon turned to follow the walk into the little village. The boards creaked and ground together under Erelon’s weight, and he imagined himself falling through or the supports giving out and the entire village crashing down.

  Erelon turned a corner around a wooden shack and almost collided with a bald man with a huge bushy beard and a wooden leg. The prosthetic leg collided with the board walk and made it echo with every step.

  “Hello!” the bald man’s voice boomed in greeting as well as surprise.

  “Good day,” Erelon replied to the greeting and then asked, “Where is the first tributary that empties into Fallas?”

  “Well, stranger, you’re just past it. It’s south a day or two’s travel.”

  “Where’s the next, and where am I now?” Erelon asked, not sure of his location.

  “Well. . . You’re in Massif on the edge of a stinkin’ river. Decent for farmin’, no good for nothin’ else, except maybe a little trade and a stoppin’ post. We’re several weeks steady travelin’ from Samos, only a little over a week from the next creek that enters Fallas, which is also the next place for fresh water.”

  “Thanks,” Erelon stated, and as he was just past the bald man, the wizard asked in curiosity, “I was just wondering where you all keep horses?”

  “Over the rise to the east is a shed, about a fifteen minute's walk,” the villager replied before stomping off.

  Erelon continued to follow the flow of the path. It seemed to guide toward the center. The center square was truly a square. A wooden rail ran along the inside of the board walk which looked over into corn. The outside of the walk was lined by stores. For a small village, it was quite busy. Erelon had to weave a path through the people and at times even had to brush against them to move through. Erelon was looking for a general merchandise store, one with food for himself and Easton as well as grain for the horses.

  It was not until his second trip around the square that Erelon noticed a store that was loading merchandise from the ground using a pulley system. Looking up, Erelon could not read the sign, but within the building he could see women and men alike going through flour, rice, and other grains, as well as cloth and a great variety of other general products. A trading town along the river, Erelon finally realized and understood the village’s purpose.

  Erelon stepped through the door. Several clerks attended those around, quickly filling orders and taking money. It was a mad house, the roar of people talking and yelling never ceasing. Erelon began to yell at one of the clerks, trying to obtain attention and service.

  Finally the wizard managed to wade through the customers and, standing next to a clerk, yelled above the roar, “I need some stuff!”

  “Wait your turn! Wait your turn!” the clerk angrily and rudely bellowed back and went to take the next order.

  Erelon stood there, rooted and unmoving while clerks and customers swirled around. The mass and hysteria was not as terrific as it was in the cities like Kintex or Pendle, but for a small village, Erelon had expected to receive quicker, more friendly service.

  “You—you—what do you need?” a clerk impatient and out of breath demanded of Erelon.

  “Two frigas rice and flour, and six murges horse feed,” Erelon replied using the native measuring unit, “two bags beans and a roll of that leather and a bag of that dried beef.”

  The clerk was filling Erelon’s order as the wizard gave it. The clerk piled it in a corner, took Erelon’s money, and then laughed, “Good luck packing it.”

  Erelon looked around, carefully observing all of the people. His gaze rested on two young men leaning against a nearby post, talking.

  Erelon stepped over to them and said, “I have a silver coin for both of you if you help me pack what I just bought.”

  They looked at the wizard as he held up a pair of coins, rubbing them together so that the boys could hear the musical sound of the precious metal as well as see the size and color of the coins promised.

  Erelon led over to his stash and began lifting bags and throwing them over his shoulders. The wizard waited to ensure the two boys could carry the remaining feed before leading back through the crowds. The wizard could not remember completely where he had left Easton with the horses, but he plotted a course in the direction of the river.

  Erelon looked for familiar buildings or turns in the boardwalk, but everything looked alike. There was little uniqueness with which to remember the path he had taken earlier.

  The walk continued past buildings and led like a dock into the sea of corn. Erelon turned his head around, looking down. He could not find Easton. Erelon sighed and picked up his head. Against another arm of the walk, Easton and the three horses were a dark blob against the green corn.

  Erelon’s lips wrinkled in disgust as he turned around corners, guessing at the distance he needed to travel before stepping out along another arm of the walk, the one that Erelon assumed Easton to be waiting beside.

  One of the boys stumbled over a barrel, barely avoiding dumping what he carried. A glare from Erelon brought a shrug and a sheepish smirk from the young man. The barrel rolled off down the path, and as Erelon neared, he saw that it was filled with trash, bits of paper, used tobacco, packaging, remnants of someone's lunch.

  Only a few more corners and Erelon finally found the next arm to the boardwalk that led out of the town. The wizard set his bundles beside the ladder that led down to Easton, and after the two boys did the same, the wizard paid each the promised piece of silver. The village kids turned and quickly fled down the walk back into town.

  Erelon watched t
hem leave, not trusting. Too many had been the times the scent of money had turned good men and women into conniving fools capable of murder. Although logic told the wizard that the two men were not going to take an old warrior armed with two giant swords, experience warned the wizard not to turn his back.

  “Erelon!” a shout came from below, “Come on, Erelon, send the bags down. We don’t have all day. Most of it is already gone.”

  Erelon turned from staring at the town and, lying down, lowered each bag into the uplifted waiting arms of Easton. Erelon took one last look at the village and climbed down the ladder to the saddle of his horse.

  “What took you so long?” Easton demanded.

  “Service was horrible and the waiting lines long,” was Erelon’s excuse.

  They stayed close to the river as they traveled north, so close that they could smell and almost taste the stale river. Erelon did not want to miss the next tributary or the one following that was supposed to lead them to their ferry. At times they would rise to the summit of hills that allowed them to look down upon Fallas. Mostly, though, they passed through the valleys that were the river’s bluffs.

  They stumbled upon a small creek, hardly more than a stream with a smooth rock floor. The two men refilled canteens and allowed the horses to drink. It was the first fresh water that they had come upon since Massif, where there had been a well. They watched its crooked path on its way to the River Fallas, where the stream’s waters, upon impact with the river, would become foul, impossible to drink without becoming sick.

  “Do you think this is the second tributary?” Easton asked.

  “Do not know,” Erelon said with some confusion, “Sure is small. It is a tributary, but I do not really know if it is the second that we were told about.”