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

need slaves?”
    â€œAh, but we are.”
    â€œWhat?” That word was almost a shriek. “ We take slaves?”
    â€œAll Nifl take slaves, child. If we weren’t so cursedly indolent, we’d not need them—but we are indolent. It’s part of our charm, some say.”
    â€œâ€˜Some say’? What of the others?”
    The Revered Mother’s wave of dismissal was languid. “Ah! They are of no account.”
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    â€œOverbold? Foolish? Perhaps,” Taerune said softly, making her whip crackle with racing lightnings. “And perhaps your judgment is mistaken. Maulstryke reasoning usually is.”
    Anger warred with fear in the rampant’s eyes. He—and the other Mauls, one of them still down on the scorchstone, groaning over his shattered arm—knew very well how that whip would sear them, bone-deep, if it touched their blades.
    â€œHouse Evendoom holds erroneous opinions regarding all Houses of Talonnorn,” he said icily, “including House Evendoom. Your supposed supremacy is but an empty pose, and you overreach yourselves. That will prove fatal … perhaps much sooner than you think.”
    â€œPerhaps and perhaps,” Taerune said coldly. “Yet ‘perhaps’ cries of wishes and assumptions. Care to taste a little truth?” She made her whip rear and roil menacingly, its crackling arcing to her wardshield and back
again, making her hair stand out straight and her breast tingle and stiffen.
    â€œYour arrogance demeans your House,” the Maulstryke hissed scornfully, growing a sneer the other Mauls matched in an instant.
    â€œWhereas your mouthings are as empty as ever,” Taerune told them calmly, cracking her whip as she strolled forward—and they all hastily gave way, the wounded Maul whimpering in his gingerly clambering haste.
    They all hissed scorn at her, swords held up and ready, as they stepped aside in ever-increasing haste. Taerune gave them a wintry smile and cracked her whip as she turned, herding them. For a moment she feared they’d rush the wincing Nifl at the rear of her darmarch, but the Mauls were eager to be away from their humiliation, and ducked between laden, slowly trudging gorkuls and through Nameless Nifl, jostling and striking with the hilts of their blades to get gone in haste.
    Watching them go, Taerune discovered she was trembling in excitement. “Icy defiance fades before icier dismissal,” she murmured, “as usual. A pity they didn’t dare more. Ah, well, perhaps next Turning.” And she spun around stylishly, one hand on hip, to stride onward, satisfaction a cold mantle about her. She’d known a moment of fear, facing the five of them with her Orb back in her chambers, but they’d proved as craven as she’d expected. She might or might not be an overbold, foolish she—but she was of Evendoom. Tremble, Talonnorn, tremble, as the saying went, for Evendoom is risen and a-prowl.
    Ah, yes, prowling; what she sought was but a little way ahead now, and no other obstacles or defiances awaited her. Taerune barely had time to quell the lightnings and gather her wand back up onto her shoulder before the last pack-snouts and goad-waving Nifl porters parted before her—and she was facing the gates of the Forgerift.
    Tall and stark black those doors were, two massive forged slabs as tall as four Nifl. Onto each had been bolted the Black Flame of Evendoom, great cast metal representations that stood out from the doors more than the thickness of a large Nifl’s body—and below them were descending rows of black metal runes, also standing forth from the door boldly, that crackled with restless power. Of fabled ordauth, the only metal that could have held so much magic, they were the largest spellrunes ever forged in Talonnorn. Their snarling power—an endless muted thunder Taerune could feel as well as hear, even this far from the doors—was a