River Of Life (Book 3) (32 page)

“It was,” one of the frogmen answered, “But there was some kind
of water eruption down south, and the water is flowing in both directions of
the old river bed, and in fact has connected with the old River Fallas.”

“Yeah, and it does not matter what the old wizard’s castle
does.  They can’t stop the fresh water from flowing,” the other croaked.

“Ugh,” the first frogman shuddered, “Fresh water.  Washes the
slime from your body.  It’s bad for the skin.”

Erelon smiled.  If River Fallas was turning fresh, the wraiths
had to at least be starting to become nervous.  Easton had already sunk into
the floor of the boat, completely unconscious and wrapped in extra blankets
brought by the frogmen.  Erelon sat in the raft, his eyes heavy, but he was not
sure that he wanted to trust these strange creatures.  Slowly darkness closed
on Erelon’s open eyes.

Trees floated by above Erelon as the rays of the sun struck
them, giving them form, outlining the thin edges of the leaves, and tracing the
lines of the water vessel.

As the older wizard sat up, one of the frogmen commented, “Now
comes the fun.”

Erelon looked ahead and saw two hills, through which the river
they were traveling on collided with Fallas.  Nothing made a sound as they
passed between the solemn hills, sloping down into the river covered with trees
that hung over the river shading the boat.  The huge river of Fallas opened before them.  Fog clung to its surface, looking like wisps of cotton fibers
pulled apart.  Slowly the raft passed through them, causing the fog to part.

“Ideally,” one of the frogmen whispered, “We would pass across,
drop you off, and get back before the fog clears.”

The sun came up quickly, burning the fog, turning the river
naked, stealing all of their cover.  The river was still, a dark green except
for where the sky reflected from it, causing the water to look blue.  The water
was so murky that the moment Erelon dropped his hand into the liquid, it
disappeared.  The river opened up wide before them, disappearing into the
distance.  Once on the river, it seemed to make the wizard gasp and grab for
air.  It's size made the wizard feel extremely small.  It was a great powerful
force, something that could not easily be controlled, and Erelon felt exposed
drifting along its surface.

“Not good,” one of the frogmen choked as he watched goblins
stirring on the far bank, racing for ugly boats with half circle sails already
tightly stretched.

The frogmen’s raft was caught in the current; it was too late to
turn back.  It was not long before the goblin’s boats grew bigger, their crews
all jeering and smiling.  A few arrows were released to fall harmlessly short
of the frogmen’s boat, standing straight in the liquid before slowly sinking
down.

A turtle floated by.  Raising its head, it seemed to stick its
long, narrow, pink tongue at Erelon and then gave him a grin that laughed at
the wizard, knowing what was coming.

“You’d better get moving, Terb, before they get here,” one of
the frogmen called to the turtle as he pointed to the goblins.

Before the goblins could reach Erelon’s raft, the waters rose,
crashing around the small craft.  The boat was tossed into the air.  The water
sucked as the raft came out and plopped as it again crashed into the thick
liquid.  A huge mound of water rose causing the water to churn and popped like
a bubble, exposing a great monster of mud.  The horses began to bolt but had
nowhere to run and instead began to dangerously storm around the small raft.  Easton immediately came awake and began grabbing at reins while looking at the mud monster
with huge scared eyes.  Mud seeped from the monster and oozed onto the boat. 
It great mouth was an empty muddy cave, and the foaming water surrounded it
like a kilt.  What seemed to be hands formed from the mound, slowly creeping
out, extending and then slapping at the water, swatting for the frogmen's boat.

“Borris!” one of the frogmen screamed, and both made ready to
jump from their wooden craft, abandoning it to the monster of Fallas.

“Wait!” Erelon bellowed.

The world seemed to become still with that one word from the
great wizard.  Every drop of water seemed to stall, every crashing wave froze,
waiting for permission from the wizard to continue on their way, and every gaze
was in the wizard’s direction.  Even the tubular mud tentacles from Borris
seemed to stop in mid flight toward the raft.

Erelon slammed his fist into the water and bellowed in elvish. 
A geyser of fresh water erupted and took on a lizard’s head with scales, wings,
and a tail.  It propelled itself head first into the mud monster, scattering it
back into the river as great chunks of mud.  Huge geysers exploding from the
giant lumps.

Borris came back up out of the river, a great spew of water with
it.  It wrapped its giant arms around the water dragon and threw all its weight
onto the creature, pulling it under, into the river, trying to suffocate it in
the thick rancid water.  The water serpent wrapped its body around the mud
monster several times and then squeezed.  Again the mud exploded.  The water
dragon straightened its body as it streaked toward the monster, pushing it
further into the depths of the river where it hit the bottom, its body of mud
turning into a cloud as it dissipated.

The water dragon did not slow its speed as it flew back up into
the goblin ships, its entire body thrashing, shattering the wood.  Goblins were
scattered into the river.  Fibers of wood exploded into the air.  The sails
catching wind currents and gently floating in the sky like kites until the
breeze died and they fell into the water.  Waves washed over the enemy,
submerging them, pulling them below even as they struggled to rise.  It was as
if every particle of the river, every molecule of water was a finger that
obeyed the wizard and pulled the goblins back under.  Only after the enemy ceased
to struggle did their bodies float back to the river’s surface.

The raft gently glided down the river’s surface, no one doing
anything as they all stared at the water dragon with open mouths, simply
gaping, except for Erelon.  Even Easton could not believe the magnitude of the
creature Erelon had just called.

The water dragon dropped back into the water and made a shiny
streak as it flashed toward the South where the water was fresher.

“Come on,” Erelon said, bringing the frogmen from their paralysis,
“To the other side.”

The oarsman began to guide the raft to the other bank.  The bank
was flat for only a few feet before rising steeply as a muddy hill, and then it
was covered with trees rising high above the river’s surface.  As soon as the
river became shallow enough, the other dipped his pole into the water, helping
to guide and propel the boat.  The river’s gravel floor shone as one of the
frogmen jumped from the boat and grabbed at the hull, pulling it up onto the
banks.

From a large hole in the muddy banks, another large creature
came out to grab and pull the boat higher on the shore.  It looked like a
muskrat but, like the frogmen, had features like a man and could speak.

The muskrat exclaimed while pulling on the boat, “Wow, that was
intense!”

“Ruphis!” one of the frogmen exclaimed, “We thought for sure
that we’d not see you or home again.”

“I never did have a chance to warn you about that mud monster,
but I've never seen anything like that dragon,” Ruphis apologized with a raspy
voice.

“It’s alright, we made it here safely,” one of the frogmen
assured his friend.

Erelon looked into the wooded hills.  He knew that beyond these
trees, the river’s bluffs, there would be a few rolling hills before it would
level off and become the desert prairie.  Easton and Erelon dragged the horses
from the boat while the frogmen threw their bundles and packs to the ground. 
They were scared and impatient to be back across the river.  The muskrat looked
suspiciously at the two wizards before slithering back into his hole.

“I don’t know who you are, but you are a bad man to fight
against,” one of the frogmen stated, croaking nervously.

Erelon turned in time to see them pulling the raft back into the
river.  As it started floating in the water, its bottom no longer dragging the
shore’s floor, both jumped into it and began pushing with poles.  Erelon
watched them until they seemed no bigger than the driftwood that floated close
by.  Erelon, patiently, unhurriedly, turned back toward his horse.

Easton already had the pack horse and his own saddled and
packed.  The younger wizard’s eyes continually flashed along the shore line,
watching for the enemy’s soldiers.  Easton shifted his weight from one foot to
the other as he watched Erelon slowly throw the saddle on Draos after placing a
bit in the horse’s mouth and connecting the bridle.  Erelon made sure that
everything was tightened first before moving on.

“Come on,” Easton said impatiently and nervously.

Erelon seemed to ignore the younger wizard as he slowly placed
his bags behind the saddle and tied them down.  Then Erelon checked his swords,
wiping them free of moisture, making sure each would slide quickly from its
scabbard.  Erelon also checked the string on his bow, testing it, pulling back,
feeling for weak points, checking how taunt it felt, if the string needed
tightening.

Easton was already mounted and acting as if threatening to leave
Erelon.  The older knew Easton would not leave; Easton needed Erelon,
especially for protection and knowledge of survival

Erelon finally pulled himself into the saddle and looked Easton in the eyes and said, “Let us go.”

“About time.  The enemy is going to find us soon,” Easton hissed.

Erelon shrugged his shoulders, “Bring them.  I do not care.”

The older wizard followed the river’s shore for a while, but the
edge grew too steep and too soft and slimy for the horses to keep steady
footing.  They almost slipped into the water several times.  Occasionally, the
bank leaned far over the river, and if the horses had dropped from these
points, they would have been carried until they drowned or were swept to the
edge.  Finally, Erelon led them further into the forest, away from the banks.

Always south and west Erelon led, and after a few days of
traveling through the gloomy forest that was filled with mist and shadows, they
finally came out, looking across grassy hills.  Only a few wooded areas
surrounding water could be seen as dark lines, and only in the bottoms of the
valleys.

Erelon had hoped to follow the river as far south as possible, a
source of water, though not always fresh.  The river, Erelon knew, had a couple
bows that would also turn toward the West, and even though at the moment it
began to work its way east of the two wizards, Erelon intended to meet it again
in the future.  Yet, the farther south Erelon traveled, the more hills he
ascended, the more goblins he saw scouring the earth.  They were setting fire
to anything green

So Erelon abandoned the plan to use the river and instead turned
Draos west, taking a path that led into a world already destroyed.  The hills
unraveled like a ball of ribbon.  Erelon came to the top of one dried-out hill
to look out across a few other rolls before the world became flat.

“We will camp below the hills tonight,” Erelon muttered, “It
will be the last protected camp and good sleep we may have for a while.”

Erelon sent his horse trotting down the hill as the last orange
in the sky began to turn to a dark blue hue.  Erelon looked around quickly,
knowing that after the light completely left, finding a spot to stop would be
all but impossible.  Finally, Erelon settled for a small bowl that cut into the
side of a hill.  There was a rock sticking up from the ground, which the old
wizard used to reflect the fire’s light back into the camp.  They cooked a
meal, the last hot meal Erelon assured Easton they would get before reaching
the other side of the prairie.  Some beans and rice mixed with dried meat and
flat bread.

They did not speak as they ate, too tired to do both at once.  Easton took their few dishes to a small stream for washing while Erelon checked the horses,
assuring himself that they were anchored and well fed and watered.  The horses
would be less likely to stray if picketed on good feed with water nearby.

By the time Easton returned, Erelon had already climbed between
his blankets and was asleep.  Easton watched his mentor, realizing that Erelon
seemed carefree, as if he did not fear anything.  Although Easton knew the
older wizard to be powerful, he was not sure that Erelon should be so careless.

For a few minutes Easton kept watch, not convinced that the
enemy was not nearby.  Nothing showed, and Easton could not feel a hostile
presence.  Finally, he also went to sleep.

Erelon was already changing the water in their canteens, filling
them with the fresh stream water, when Easton finally rose.  The sun was
already rising.  The younger wizard watered the horses before drinking some
himself.  Both understood that before they crossed the dry prairie, their
bottles would be empty, and they would be dried out like the beef they ate.

They did not take the time to prepare a hot breakfast.  Instead,
they grabbed cold dry meat and bread and ate as they rode from camp.  The
morning was cool and Erelon wanted to use as much of it as they had left. 
Through shallow dips they rode, no longer valleys, simply a shallow low point. 
The grass was tall and thick by late morning, and as the men stopped their
horses for the day, the evening was warmer than the afternoon had been and the
grass was beginning to dry out.

The wizards immediately began rationing their water, only
allowing the horses a sip.  With no fuel for a fire, they ate cold meat and
bread and went to sleep below blankets.  As night fell, so did the temperature.

The days began to pile up, every day the same as the one before,
only it left the men and horses more worn and hungry.  Easton watched as the
earth was so barren for so far that the planet’s curve could be seen as the top
of the grass gently made a curved carpeted surface.

Canteen after canteen became empty.  Horses and men sweated
profusely until their clothes were soaked.  Their water was half gone before
they reached the halfway mark.  Erelon’s tongue seemed to swell at the
discovery.  His lips cracked and bled, rashes broke out across his skin.  In
places, his skin became raw from rubbing as he rode.  Erelon looked into the
sun, the pounding light and heat making the pressure within his skull build
until it felt like exploding.

Erelon brought his hand out before him and was about to sweep it
before the sun when Easton knocked it down.

“No.  Backer told me to watch out for you,” Easton growled, “He
warned me that you had gained an unhealthy preoccupation with that spell.  It
won’t do any good.  The sun’s light could possibly destroy your body if you did
manage to absorb it.  And even if you were successful, the sun’s heat would
still be present, but the shock to the earth of losing the light so quickly,
the horrible potential, is too great of a risk.”

Erelon glared at the young wizard for a moment while logic
returned to his fatigued mind.  They stopped traveling by day and instead tried
to sleep, burying themselves below the grass, trying to use their cloaks and
swords as makeshift tents.

During the night, by the light of the moons, Erelon picked a
path.  The stars also helped to guide his steps.  Erelon was not sure if he had
missed King's Time, but he had laid a path that he hoped would lead north and
then west of it.  Erelon did not wish to see it again before he was forced to
go there and end this battle.  Erelon did not want to draw attention to this
pivotal point on the globe.

As mountains rose to the west, Erelon knew he had missed King's
Time, successfully traveling around it.  He passed over a strip of burnt
ground.  It was black and covered in ash.

With the Seaward Mountains lying to their west, Erelon now
guided his small group south.  The prairie continued.  The forests that
decorated the mountain's foothills were now only dead spires.  No life, plant
or animal, thrived.  Erelon kept hoping that green would begin to return, a
sign that they were growing closer to their destination.  Still the dead, brown
world continued.

Hills began to again roll, and still they were only brown
lumps.  Erelon’s heart began to race with fear.  Fear that maybe the wizard’s
retreat had been taken, all of his support gone.  Erelon began to hurry the
horses.  Their water had run out long ago, but that no longer mattered.  If the
older wizard could, he would have sent Draos at a run, but all were beaten. 
None had that much energy or strength left, not even the elvish horse.

The world to Erelon did not look or feel familiar.  It was a
strange world and so Erelon allowed Draos choose the path.  As Erelon topped a
hill, shock rolled over him. The walls built to protect the retreat lay before
him, extending well out into the prairie and back into the forest.  The brown
grass led right up to the walls, but the retreat had not been abandoned.

Giants using clubs like brooms swept goblins who tried to come
near.  The giants kept the paths to the gates open and free of the enemy’s
soldiers.  Even as Erelon watched the giants at work, many more soldiers, warriors,
farmers, and a great flow of different people of different races drifted into
the walls.  Everyone was doing some kind of job to help prepare for the
upcoming battle.

The giants had arrived, and centaurs were entering the gates. 
Erelon did not know when the army would be complete, or if it ever would be. 
Erelon did not know if men would ever stop marching, traveling from long
distances to join his army.  Erelon would have to be satisfied with what he had
when the time came to march and simply go finish the mission.  As for now,
Erelon thought, he also should join the great inflow that was his army
preparing for battle.

“Come on!” Erelon roared with almost a battle cry toward Easton, and then charged down the hill.