Free River Of Life (Book 3) by Paul Drewitz Page A

the enjoyment of the
children.  Their nervous shuffling feet showed their curiosity and their wish
for a closer view.
    Yet a loud, harsh, “Shhh,” came from an older boy who felt they
were still hidden.
    Erelon turned to them with a mischievous smile.  The wizard was
enjoying this game.  These children made him forget for a moment who he was and
what his mission was in this world.
    The wizard waved them to his side, beckoning for them to come
closer, reassuring them that they did not have anything to fear.  To bring a
little joy to the children, to see their faces light up and to elicit laughter
from them, that was Erelon’s mission at the moment.  It brought him a happy
moment, and a seldom-seen smile creased the wizard’s face.  The image of
Chaucer giving the toys to the children of Salis flashed before Erelon's eyes
for a moment, and Erelon finally understood the feelings that had filled his
old mentor when he had given the children the toys.
    From behind trees, over half a dozen youth came bounding up to
the old wizard, no longer afraid of him.  However, the older boy with distrust
hung behind, slowly following as if he wanted to see what happened to the
others first.  Erelon set to gathering more sticks and leaves, quickly binding
them into a little boat with little men.  His hands easily bent and twisted the
leaves and sticks as if he had done this many times.  Setting it into the
stream, it came to life: men raced around, the sails filled, and off down the
river it sailed on adventures of its own.
    The sun shone bright, and reflecting from the stream, it cast
moving golden patterns against the boat’s hull, patterns that curved and
crossed.  Giggling and shouting, the children followed the boat down the stream
until a horn sounded from the direction of the wall.
    At that moment, the world seemed to stop for the wizard.  Again
the task and the enemy before him clouded his mind, the joy he brought the
children gone.  The children had abandoned their pursuit of the boat, their
ears listening to the loud nasal warning.
    “Come,” Erelon ordered and began shoving the children in the
direction of the woodland path.
    Men in armor raced up and down its length.  Several horses
charged and were gone with a breeze following behind.
    “Hey, you!” Erelon exclaimed to one of the soldiers running
towards the wall, “Take these children back to the mountain.”  Erelon had
demanded with no room for the man to refuse.
    Leaving the children in the charge of the soldier, Erelon raced
toward the protective wall.  Already several of the enemy mounted the summits
as the master wizard arrived, flying through the trees.  With an outstretched
arm, Erelon caused magical electricity to envelop those goblins that had
reached the top of the wall.
    The goblins' bodies grew stiff and straight as the electricity
caused their muscles to spasm and grow taunt.  The bodies of the gray creatures
fell to the earth with a sullen, dull thud, nerves still sending the muscles
into ugly spasms that caused their faces to turn into wretched masks even
though the mind and heart were dead.  Even as the dead bodies of slain enemies
came crashing down around Erelon, he grabbed a knotted rope and swung up the
wall.
    Easily he climbed, one hand after the other, his muscles growing
tight, sweat dripping from his wrenched face and taunt skin.  The wizard’s body
brushed the rough wall, and his cloak trailed far below, hanging straight.
    First one hand and then another grasped the rough rock ledge,
then the wizard pulled with his full strength, heaving his body onto the
ledge.  As he stood, bringing his sword from its sheath all in the same fluid
movement, he looked down into the eyes of a beast, a wolfman.  They were yellow
glaring eyes, the eyes of one who loved to kill, hated those that fought back,
but hated still worse those who were such cowards that they would not fight.
    Erelon’s sword descended, opening a bloody gap between