River Of Life (Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

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