River Of Life (Book 3) Read Free Page B

enveloped the fugitive, hiding him from the world and the world from
him.

Chapter 2
     
    ERELON stood in the center of a raised stage.  The room was in
the shape of a third of a circle with the stage in the corner.  A short drop
led to the seats, and then as the seats fanned backward, they rose until well
above the stage in front.
    Several flights of stairs marked different seating sections.  In
this amphitheatre, thousands could be seated.  From the top row of seats, the
walls climbed, and set in the walls were balcony seats where more visitors
could observe the ceremonies that were held within this special chamber.  Above
was a high vaulted ceiling, fashioned in similar design to the rest of the
complex.  The chairs, stage, balconies, all of it had been carved from stone. 
Natural light filled the arena as small vents were punctured through the
mountain’s outside skin.
    Today was in honor of Erelon’s return, and for this reason, he
was on the stage looking out on the crowding faces.  Ceremonies had started
with different heroes being honored and medals and awards being hung upon them
or pinned to their chest.  These highly praised wizards became like decorative
objects so that the wizards who proclaimed them as heroes could again find
themselves in the public eye.  To show off power and money for social
demonstration was all these ceremonies were.
    Erelon was the main attraction.  From his seat at the back of
the stage he had been called forward.  Around him sat many other wizards, all
in their appropriate regalia.  Festor sat on the stage, but he had no part to
play in the ceremony’s functions other than to look the old and wizened wizard
he was.
    Grism was not there, not even in the crowd.  He commanded the
troops that guarded the wall.  Upon stage, Hendle sat gowned in a long robe of
honor and rank.  Hendle had been recruited to play an important role in the
part of the ceremonies that surrounded Erelon.  Hendle had been given the honor
of decorating the master wizard.
    Erelon was not necessarily against such ceremonies, yet he was
not accustomed to so much attention directed towards himself.  He did not enjoy
it.  For others it was fine, and at a more practical time, Erelon might have
even enjoyed being a spectator.  Heroes should be decorated, but not in the
middle of a battle; and indeed, at every moment, a battle at the walls threatened
to consume the refuge.
    During his travels, Erelon had come to the conclusion that there
were two types of wizards.  One was the normal, average kind that enjoyed
studying, ceremonies, and organization.  Of this kind Erelon had tried to be,
yet had failed, for he was of the second type.
    Erelon was a powerful lone warrior whose goal in life was to
protect or change the world.  Such wizards backed from praise and recognition,
living alone even when among people similar to themselves.  The friends of
these powerful wizards were multiple and of great variety, mixing among many
personalities and races.   Of this wizard there were few.  Besides himself,
Erelon only really knew two others, Chaucer and Tix.
    As his name was called, Erelon looked into the eyes of the
crowd.  They cheered wildly.  Songs that had been written about him could be
heard flowing from the crowd, while a chant formed from the different names of
the master wizard in many different languages filled the air, picking up a
tempo.  Pride filled Erelon as he thought of all those who had come to love his
name even though they did not even know him personally.
    Everything Erelon had done for this crowd of people had brought
him their love and respect.  At the same moment, sadness overwhelmed the wizard
as he felt his heart sink into his stomach; this was not where he should be. 
When younger, he had loved the ceremonies of wizards, the inauguration and
graduation ceremonies of those who moved up to gain more respect for their
years of study.
    Now Erelon looked upon the ceremonies with a