saw, which had a blade encrusted with diamond powder, a
tool barrowed from Bahsal.
Without another word, Erelon proceeded farther into the caverns,
following the musical sound that did not match the melody. Erelon had crystals
of ice growing from his full beard, and white areas on his cheeks and nose
where ice had settled. He still held onto his heatless, glowing torch,
pointing it around towards the darkest corners, crystals sucking in its color
and light and spraying it into the world along with the light they obtained
from the world outside the caverns.
The wizard had left the boy far behind before finding what he
had been looking for. The other crystals in the cavern distributed the color
and light from his torch so that the world could enjoy the beauty. However,
this one squat crystal absorbed the red glow, and into its point it
concentrated the color. Greedily, it stole the red glow and kept it for
itself, not sharing but keeping the color to make the world envious.
Slowly, carefully as he had been taught by the dwarves, Erelon
cut the crystal free, and then slowly chipped away the excess so that all that
remained was a pure, flawless crystal of ice. The wizard had been taught by
the dwarves how to cut gems, diamonds, and other crystals.
Erelon pulled the tube from within his cloaks and unscrewed one
end, eased the crystal into it, and then rotated its cap until it was sealed.
Erelon breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter 3
ERELON was sitting in on another council. He had only been back
from his trek through the mountains long enough to obtain some breakfast. In
the balconies, men watched the proceedings about the formation of the military.
"I think our troops would fight better, be able to better
defend our walls if they were allowed to fight beside their friends," one
wizard roared.
"Yeah, dividing up companions, it would be like separating
a unit that has been training together for years. It is completely detrimental
to our defense," another chimed in his approval.
"I think we could break up into more shifts. We need more
than four shifts. Four shifts every day, two day shifts and two night shifts,
makes for a very long day, and the men cannot easily regulate their
sleep," another wizard offered a more sound opinion.
"Maybe only four hour shifts, instead of eight?"
Hendle quizzed. "But I would think that would make it even harder to get
sleep with only a few hours to catch some rest."
"Well then maybe four hour shifts during the day, and two
six hour shifts at night?" Burlim offered the concerned wizards.
Erelon noticed Burlim had streaks of gray through his hair now,
and a few wrinkles lining his head. His little brother Flex sat next to him.
Flex had turned into a quiet young man, allowing Burlim to do the talking, but
no one was fooled by his silent exterior. Everyone in the room understood that
Flex had the most talent.
A few days before, a squat man with wild red hair and a giant
mole on his left chin had approached Erelon, "The council has not met for
a while now. Several months. This is not a dictatorship. We demand to be
allowed to voice our complaints and concerns in a democratic manner."
The man had hissed and gurgled. He was not a man Erelon would
have chosen to represent him, not a well spoken wizard.
Erelon eyed the man with caution. He had never known his
opposition to be interested in anything democratic. "Fine, we can meet
tomorrow in the afternoon. Not a minute before the sun passes its highest
point in the sky."
"My friends will be grateful," the warty wizard
gurgled as he sloughed off into a hallway.
"You remember what I told you about the alliances between
some of these wizards?" Hendle's voice questioned behind Erelon.
"Yeah, I understand," Erelon mumbled. "But I do
not believe that any of these alliances are powerful enough to try to fight
me. And we have broken these men apart so they cannot plot and associate
easily. I have
tool barrowed from Bahsal.
Without another word, Erelon proceeded farther into the caverns,
following the musical sound that did not match the melody. Erelon had crystals
of ice growing from his full beard, and white areas on his cheeks and nose
where ice had settled. He still held onto his heatless, glowing torch,
pointing it around towards the darkest corners, crystals sucking in its color
and light and spraying it into the world along with the light they obtained
from the world outside the caverns.
The wizard had left the boy far behind before finding what he
had been looking for. The other crystals in the cavern distributed the color
and light from his torch so that the world could enjoy the beauty. However,
this one squat crystal absorbed the red glow, and into its point it
concentrated the color. Greedily, it stole the red glow and kept it for
itself, not sharing but keeping the color to make the world envious.
Slowly, carefully as he had been taught by the dwarves, Erelon
cut the crystal free, and then slowly chipped away the excess so that all that
remained was a pure, flawless crystal of ice. The wizard had been taught by
the dwarves how to cut gems, diamonds, and other crystals.
Erelon pulled the tube from within his cloaks and unscrewed one
end, eased the crystal into it, and then rotated its cap until it was sealed.
Erelon breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter 3
ERELON was sitting in on another council. He had only been back
from his trek through the mountains long enough to obtain some breakfast. In
the balconies, men watched the proceedings about the formation of the military.
"I think our troops would fight better, be able to better
defend our walls if they were allowed to fight beside their friends," one
wizard roared.
"Yeah, dividing up companions, it would be like separating
a unit that has been training together for years. It is completely detrimental
to our defense," another chimed in his approval.
"I think we could break up into more shifts. We need more
than four shifts. Four shifts every day, two day shifts and two night shifts,
makes for a very long day, and the men cannot easily regulate their
sleep," another wizard offered a more sound opinion.
"Maybe only four hour shifts, instead of eight?"
Hendle quizzed. "But I would think that would make it even harder to get
sleep with only a few hours to catch some rest."
"Well then maybe four hour shifts during the day, and two
six hour shifts at night?" Burlim offered the concerned wizards.
Erelon noticed Burlim had streaks of gray through his hair now,
and a few wrinkles lining his head. His little brother Flex sat next to him.
Flex had turned into a quiet young man, allowing Burlim to do the talking, but
no one was fooled by his silent exterior. Everyone in the room understood that
Flex had the most talent.
A few days before, a squat man with wild red hair and a giant
mole on his left chin had approached Erelon, "The council has not met for
a while now. Several months. This is not a dictatorship. We demand to be
allowed to voice our complaints and concerns in a democratic manner."
The man had hissed and gurgled. He was not a man Erelon would
have chosen to represent him, not a well spoken wizard.
Erelon eyed the man with caution. He had never known his
opposition to be interested in anything democratic. "Fine, we can meet
tomorrow in the afternoon. Not a minute before the sun passes its highest
point in the sky."
"My friends will be grateful," the warty wizard
gurgled as he sloughed off into a hallway.
"You remember what I told you about the alliances between
some of these wizards?" Hendle's voice questioned behind Erelon.
"Yeah, I understand," Erelon mumbled. "But I do
not believe that any of these alliances are powerful enough to try to fight
me. And we have broken these men apart so they cannot plot and associate
easily. I have
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