Wards of Faerie: The Dark Legacy of Shannara Read Online Free PDF

sister’s attacker, catching him on the side of the head with a blow that rocked him just enough for Aphenglow to tear herself free of the killing cord.
    But when she turned to engage her attacker, he was already out the door and had vanished into the night. Arling started to give pursuit, but Aphenglow pulled her back, shaking her head.
    It took her a moment before she could speak. “Let him go,” she said, gasping for breath. “We don’t want to give him the advantage he seeks by bungling out into the darkness.”
    Her attacker was male. Of that she was certain—of his sex if not his Race. She had seen his wrists when he broke away—just a glimpse, but enough to be able to tell by the size and the amount of hair.
    She moved over to a bench next to the dining table and lowered herself gingerly. The cord had burned her neck, and her breathing was still ragged. “You saved me, Arling. He was too strong for me. I couldn’t fight him off.”
    Her sister bent close, examining her neck. “I hope I bashed his head in,” she muttered. “Sit still. I’ll bring cold cloths and ointment for the burn.”
    She moved into the kitchen, and Aphenglow quickly stepped over to the chair, retrieved the diary, and slipped it into her blouse. She was furious with herself for allowing someone to get that close. It shouldn’t have been possible for an attacker to creep up on her like that; her normally dependable instincts should have warned her. That they hadn’t was troubling.
    Arlingfant was back, carrying a small, lighted lantern, which she placed on the table next to her sister. Then she proceeded to clean the burns with cold cloths and to apply a pain-relieving ointment. She worked quickly and efficiently, her small fingers smooth and clever.
    “Who would do this?” she asked, the anger in her voice undiminished. “Why would anyone attack you in your own home?”
    “I don’t know,” Aphenglow lied, already suspecting why, if not who.
    “Did they take anything?”
    “No. What is there to take? It was probably just someone who doesn’t care for young women leaving their Elven family to join a Druid order. Perhaps someone with a grudge or a perceived hurt.”
    “Well, whoever it was will have a sore head in the morning.” Her sister finished with the cleaning and ointments. “He tried to kill you, Aphen!”
    “Or scare me. Wanting to send a message of some sort, maybe. We can’t be certain.”
    But she was certain. Whoever had attacked her was experienced and skilled. It wasn’t some common person, someone with resentments or a misguided sense of duty. And the nature of the attack suggested her assailant had been trying very hard to injure her badly, not merely scare her.
    But who would want to hurt her? Who would benefit from that? She didn’t know. She didn’t have any identifiable enemies and couldn’t think of anyone who carried a grudge of this magnitude. She couldn’t help thinking she had been attacked because of the diary. But who would even know she had it? Who had come close enough to find out?
    Only her uncle, Ellich. But her uncle loved her and would never do something like this. So was there someone who would benefit by having her dead and the diary in hand? Someone who had been watching her and saw her take the diary from the archives?
    But if she had been seen taking the diary, why not just demand it back? Why try to injure her? Or why not just steal it from her, or try to frighten her into giving it up? Harming her seemed extreme, if getting possession of the diary was the principal goal.
    Whatever the case, she was determined to press on. The attack had only strengthened her resolve. She would begin her search of the lineage charts first thing in the morning, just as she had planned.
    But she would be keeping careful watch when she did.

3

    W HEN A PHENGLOW E LESSEDIL WOKE THE FOLLOWING morning, she ached everywhere. Moving slowly and stiffly, she went to the basin, dropped her sleeping shift,