River Of Life (Book 3) Read Free Page A

that had been
set at certain places for reasons understood better during the time they were
carved, generations, centuries ago.  Still other sculptures were those that had
broken from the mountain face and, tumbling, had found their current resting
place.  Staying for a short time, they found themselves anchored by roots and
vines.
    Small animals were seen scampering and playing everywhere. 
Little gray squirrels with large hairy ears would stop climbing trees to watch
as Easton passed, and song birds would float over his head to land in a tree,
causing the limb to rustle.  Animals big enough to keep such a trail free of
brush had yet to appear.  Something would creek and groan occasionally far off
in the distance.  Easton stopped for fresh water which was found in plenty as
creeks, rivers, pools, ponds, and beautiful, graceful waterfalls bound across
the rocks, falling and twisting in their trail towards the base of the
mountain.
    Easton even found a couple of easy mouse nests and had a meager
meal.  A few times he got a glimpse out of the jungle.  He could see spires far
to the south.  Black towers reached toward the sky, getting narrower as they
reached their peak, with smoke coming out in columns from within their
perimeter.  Dread filled his heart.  There was a feeling within his chest that
told him nothing could overcome those towers that soared above him.  Continuing
down the same path, he again saw it several times.  It was always to the
southwest, but it was not until he broke from the jungle that he understood
what they actually meant.
    Easton left the border of the jungle, leaving behind slithering
worms and centipedes, fresh, clear, snow-cooled water, and rodents and animals
both known and not known.  Easton found himself on the top of a hill that led
down into a valley.
    Across from him on the edge of a high plateau was a black
fortress, with great spires which he had seen from the jungle, overlooking
valleys, dark forests.  In them lived evil, impenetrable darkness which was
much too close.  The dark kingdom that this fortress claimed was spreading,
same as that of the Witch of Turgeon.  As Easton stared at that fortress he
felt the eyes of a strong presence watching him.  The young wizard shuddered so
that his rotting cloak half fell from his shoulders.
    The wizard turned his attention to what laid between him and the
dark fortress, a place that he felt would be a refuge.  Out of the tunnel of
wide green leaves and rich soil smells came the sight which many had thought
only to be a mirage.  Seemingly hanging in the thin air that filled the
atmosphere was a huge berg.  But not that of ice like those that floated in the
oceans to the northwest, but one made of dirt and rock.  Rough dirt, some of
the richest on earth, hung from the bottom and was roughly in the shape of a
cone.
    Huge roots and vines grew through it, splitting rocks, pushing
dirt, and holding it together.  Many continued intertwining all the way to the
ground, nature’s ladders and ropes for those who had no other method of
traveling up.  On top of the berg sat a city.  Great tan stone walls towered
high.  The top of the city peaked high in the air, a beacon to all the valleys
around, a sign to them of power and wisdom.  The city, being higher in the
center, was built on a hill on the berg.
    Easton climbed down the hill, walking towards the floating
city.  Another man, one of dark colored skin and dressed in all black and
yellow, stood directly below the flying monolith.  He did not climb the vines;
he did not even grab for one.  Transforming from his feet up, he turned to a
mob of crows.  Catching the wind under their wings, they whipped up the side of
the monolith and gracefully swooped toward the top.  Curving over the wall,
they disappeared from view.
    As Easton stumbled down the hill toward the floor of the valley,
trembling in his excitement at what he had witnessed from above, a dense fog
moved in.  It