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

the tale, truly. Treating with the Fallen in Peyennar itself, refusing their offer of peace, and then passing through the shadows of the Third Plane to rescue the king. The loss of Vandil and the others hit the Lord Viamar hard, but somehow even he did not appear convinced they had seen the last of the First General.
    Imrail concluded the account with the events that had occurred during the Earthbound incursion into Peyennar. Luc went cold at the man’s description of him opening the Shoulder’s gates and confronting the creature known as Razmoen. No one questioned him about the Ruling Rod. Odd, that.
    “The Acriel boy?” Ariel said with a glance at Ivon.
    She was referring to Rew’s role in the short siege. Luc was not sure if anyone had noticed, but it seemed certain Rew had slipped through the space of a moment, twin knives piercing the Fallen in the ribs. Then there had been a blaze of white light. Blinding light. And a plane of existence no man could reach.
    “You did not mention the Land—” Trian caught herself. “You did not mention Edgewood, Luc. Ansifer passed through Edgewood.”
    The Lord Viamar nodded. A flash of pain creased his face, gray now. “They had their eye on Peyennar from the start, no doubt. Foolish of me to think it would go unnoticed. The man was convinced he could force us to reveal its secrets. Either the Warden or his son. He would have settled for either, but I suspect he wanted the Warden more. I marked him, Ivon, though I do not think he knew it. It was Sevion.”
    If the name meant nothing to Luc, it did to his father. His face instantly went white. He started to stand. Veins along his jaw rippled. Gripping the edge of the table, the man had to make a conscious effort to keep from exploding. Or seizing his cloak and going after the Furies’ agent straightway.
    “Your father’s onetime ally, Luc,” Ariel explained, “and his chief aid. He led the rebellion that eventually resulted in the division of Ardil and the Great Flight, as they called it. They were bound for Almara, refusing to aid us during the Stand at Imdre.”
    “And nearly breaking us,” Imrail said coldly.
    Glancing between them, Luc had reason enough to feel their intensity. Of all the things that were miring, the split was by far the most haunting for his father. Now they knew who this Ansifer was, or had been. He was not certain the Fallen had enough of a soul left to call his own—punishment enough, perhaps, for sedition of this kind.
    Carefully Ivon collected himself. Not looking at anyone in particular, he sipped his tea. “I understand your scouts confirmed a part of his forces broke south with the Sword.”
    Imrail answered. “Yes, my Lord. We assume they have the Sword.”
    “I see.” Too casual. “Then, Captain, if I understand you correctly, am I right in assuming Sevion has the Sword of Ardil? The sword of my people?”
    Imrail saw the man’s blood lust rekindling. The discovery was alarming—more than that, crushing, something his father would never forgive. Or forget. Attempting to shift the conversation, Luc shuffled around the table. He made the movement appear casual. “Ansifer now, Father.” He began to dig through the pantry. Of course the cupboards were bare. “I’m afraid there’s nothing to eat,” he said.
    “I could use a bite myself,” the Lord Viamar said idly. “Where are my maids, girl? Have them send for Ellie. I’m starved.”
    Ariel froze. Glancing at Ivon, she appeared to grow faint. Her husband forgot his wrath a moment. Perhaps it was the one thing that could shake it. “Father,” Ariel said softly, “Ellie died. You have no maids. Not since . . .”
    “. . . your mother died,” the Lord Viamar finished. “Aye girl. But I thought we could all use a quip at my expense.” The old man was more bone and sinew now, but he was still cagy. He ran a hand through his beard and shot the other out at the Warden, gripping him by the arm. “There will be time enough to