The Sword of Ardil: The War of the Furies Book 2 by Matt Thomas Read Free Book Online Page A

needed it more.
    The second time he woke, what seemed minutes later, he was layered in sweat. This time it was the memories. They made his head throb. He knew what it was to be driven, to be unleashed. Some called it Unari. There had been no stopping the force. But the rift that formed, the beings that spawned, the forces compelled to fight. . . . Luc lurched up, panting. He looked around. Again there was no sign of Imrail. Luc was not sure if he truly fell asleep again.
    Movement later, some buried memory perhaps, told him his father had risen. The Warden stood staring out the window as the first hint of dawn revealed itself over the snow-capped Mournful Peaks. As Luc sat up, Ivon turned. “Rest well?” the man asked.
    “Yes,” he lied.
    Ivon nodded. “Good. Well, I suspect it time we speak. You need some instruction. And I would like to know what occurred firsthand when you left to find your grandfather. Start at the beginning.”
    Luc rubbed his eyes. “Now?” He supposed now was as good a time as any. The Warden was reputed to be a cold man. Hostile. Antagonistic. Looking at him, Luc was bitterly aware the years had changed him. One night as his father, now the Warden of Ardil fully returned. “If you wish,” he said finally.
    As he began the narrative Ivon boiled water for tea. The women, likely awoken by the movement, soon joined them.
    Perhaps it was easier under the light of day, which was slowly working its way in. He began with the years spent under Ingram and Master Varel at the Shoulder. They were good men who had pushed him hard. He did not spend long on the subject. He knew that was not what the man had inquired about.
    The tale from beginning to end took the majority of the morning. He started with the arrivals of Vandil and Imrail and their insistence that he accompany the Companions on their quest to recover the king, abducted by the Legion of the Earthbound forces, and the Sword of Ardil, taken from the king’s vaults. About a quarter way through Imrail arrived with the Lord Viamar himself. Ariel sighed at the sight of the aged man. He had come in a plain cloak and clothing cut in a conventional fashion. “Father, you should have told me,” she whispered. “You need your rest.”
    Eldin Viamar gave her a glare. “The Shoulder is a tomb. Besides, I’m old, not bedridden, girl. And if my daughter is not pleased to see me and spend the morning with me, perhaps her husband might be. Or my grandson.” The Lord Viamar squeezed Luc’s shoulder and took a seat beside Ivon. “Go on, boy. Don’t let me interrupt.”
    Luc sighed. He tugged his collar open and continued. As he feared, all that had transpired from the outskirts of Aldoren’s Watch to his ascension on the tower level of the Shoulder continued to take some time. Thankfully Avela and Imrail were able to fill in certain gaps. The room seemed still. Ivon’s eyes darkened at word of the Ardan stalking them in the open streets of the Seaport city, eventually unleashing an all-out assault on one of the garrisons. Both the Warden and the White Rose tensed at the news of one of the Diem’s return from Almara. Luc held to his promise and gave them the man’s message. Neither commented. The Lord Viamar was impressed with the work of the Companions: Imrail using some hidden ability to confirm the return of the Furies; Urian and Altaer trekking to the far north; Lenora Yasrin making dire predictions; Eduin Lars in constant mourning; and Riven speeding south to warn Alingdor an Earthbound city had been found in the far north at the mouth of the Forlorn Wood.
    Word of his former brothers and sisters in full possession of the Fallen made Ivon clench his fists. “I warned them,” he whispered.
    Luc left Imrail to speak of their flight through Perdition. The clash with the Sypher was news to them. He was not sure what they thought of his decision to make for Peyennar instead of using his father’s gate to return to the capital. They were gripped by