Dark Warrior Rising by Ed Greenwood Read Free Book Online Page A

again.
    A handful of other points of light glowed, amber to Talonnorn’s emerald. “Ways to the surface we know of,” the Revered Mother explained. “The table between is our local Wild Dark.”
    â€œLocal?”
    The elder priestess did sigh this time. Heavily. A ruby light, brighter than the rest, blossomed not far from Talonnorn’s emerald glow. “Us,” she said, and waved her hand.
    Seven brown-yellow lights glimmered into life, scattered across the table. “Ouvahlor, between here and Talonnorn. Ouvahlor and Talonnorn love each other not at all. Over there, Uryrryr. There, Imbrae and Nrauluskh. Beyond them, Yarlys and Oundrel.”
    â€œAnd in far Yarlys I met my doom,” Lolonmae murmured, a snatch of song so old that the Revered Mother had sung it as a child.

    The elder priestess wondered if Lolonmae knew any other words of that tune, or why it had been composed at all. The young these days seemed so asleep, so unaware and complacent, accepting the ways of things without understanding why things were thus-and-so, and who had fought to make them that way. She waved her hand again, ere dipping it once more into the jar.
    And the table grew a shimmering tangle of lines, a chaos that linked all of the cities and ways up to the Blindingbright, in routes so meandering and entwined that it was hard to trace them, even peering hard and close at the table.
    Lolonmae frowned and squinted, but at least she was trying to follow routes, here and there. “These are … the underways? The passages from city to city the raiders take?”
    â€œAnd traders. More often, traders.”
    That made Lolonmae turn, eyes wide. “ Trade? We deal with the cities of Olone?”
    â€œAnd the Ravagers,” the Revered Mother told her calmly. “They bring us plants, and their berries and juices, for our alchemies. In return for magics and healing ointments.”
    The novice was frowning. “What do they trade with the cities of Olone for?”
    â€œMore magic. Good weapons.”
    â€œAnd what do Talonnorn and Imbrae get in return?”
    â€œSlaves.”
    â€œ Slaves? Nifl enslave Nifl ?”
    â€œHumans, child. Strong humans. Plucked from where the Hairy Ones dwell, up in the Blindingbright.”
    Lolonmae’s lip curled. “And what do they of Olone need humans for? Food? Surely not breeding for beauty? Or are they all so indolent that they need slaves to do everything for them?”
    â€œIndolence, yes, though they see it not so. Their need was born of fear. Fear of being cast out due to disfigurement—and fear of such marring befalling them in cooking over hearth fires, fighting with blades in the cities, mining, or smithywork. So they have slaves to do such things for them.”
    The novice shook her head. “Truly, they are worthy of our contempt,” she said, disbelief and amazement strong in her voice.
    â€œThe Ravagers sneer at us and the cities of Olone about equally,” the Revered Mother said gently, gazing into the slaar glow in her jar in
contented satiation. “They think us both oriad and lazy, ignorant and doomed.”
    â€œDoomed?”
    â€œTo stagnation, decline, and eventually disaster when some foe or cataclysm we are entirely unprepared for rises and smites us.”
    â€œReally?” Lolonmae was too aghast to be deferential. “And in just what way are we as contemptuous as those of Olone?”
    The elder priestess put the lid back on her jar and set it on the table, which promptly became plain dark stone again. “To the Ravagers, we are all Haraedra.”
    Lolonmae frowned and looked her question.
    â€œTowered Ones,” the Revered Mother explained. “Nifl who dwell in cities. The Ravagers see that as decadence—and the constant need of Haraedra for slaves as proof of that judgment.”
    The novice looked disgusted. “Can they not see that we of Arnoenar are no softlings who