Elf World Shadows Rising
By Matthew Pequegnat
Published by: Matthew Pequegnat
Los Gatos, CA 95032
Copyright © 2015 by Matthew Pequegnat.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission from the publisher, Matthew Pequegnat.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Maps Created by Matthew Pequegnat.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
EPILOGE
CHAPTER 1
The breeze rustled the white silk curtains of the bedroom window, blowing a pleasantly cool draft of morning air across the bed. The spacious round room, beautifully decorated with pale stone walls and dark wood floors, looked much the same as any other higher end bedroom in Palantar, the capital city of Solara, the Empire of the Sun, and heart he old High Kingdom, homeland of the Sun Elves.
The heavy scent of flowers permeated the air, bringing the occupant of the large, round canopy bed to consciousness. Myst opened his eyes slowly; the cobwebs of sleep finally, and most reluctantly, gave way to the promise of a new day. He dragged himself from the bed, and walked naked to the window overlooking the street, and out on to the balcony he stepped. The wrought iron balcony, lined with flowerbeds in a bloom of riotous colors, was cold to the touch. Looking to the west, he could see the snow-capped Mountains of Twilight shining in the bright warm sunlight, while the cool lake breeze drifted up the hill from the deep harbor far below. It felt good; the air was alive and this morning could not get any better, he thought. He had been away for some time, and it was good to be back again.
The street below was full of beautiful women, mostly Sun Elves wandering through the morning streets, all were lovely to behold. The female Sun Elves with their silky (mostly) blonde hair, in every rich shade possible to that color, made a stirring sight bobbing below him. Here and there, the auburn or dark red hair of a Moon Elf, or the chocolate brown of a Star Elf, gave the crowd a rich spice that was heady to Myst, who had spent the last year on the cold wilds of northern frontier. He stood there, people watching, for a good while. The beautiful girls glided along in their silken loincloths, their lovely, long, lightly golden tanned legs flashing in the sunlight. The hypnotic sway of the silk halter-tops, which was part of the normal summer attire of female elves, was mesmerizing in that wondrous and special feminine magic, the halter tops they wore sometimes seemed to be nothing more than two small silk triangles attached to thin cords or fine chains. Their loincloths were about the same, just two pieces of richly colored fabric, attached at the hip with a short, delicate chain, hanging down to their slim ankles.
Myst ran his hands through his own pale golden hair, and a gleam came to his sapphire blue eyes. A familiar stirring quickened his blood; thoughts of breakfast forgotten before they even had a chance to form on this fine morning. He stretched his six foot one, well-muscled frame in anticipation of the hunt for more pleasant company. Quickly he went back into the bedroom to dress and start the hunt. But as he walked across his room he stopped short at the sight on his large bed.
A slim ankle and shapely calf could just be seen poking out from the bottom of the white comforter. “She had to have come in while I was out on the balcony,” he thought, “I did not have that much to drink last night… Okay, well maybe I did after all, it’s been a while since I’ve had really good wine.”
Stealthily he crept to the bed, slowly he began to pull the covering away, as if unwrapping a wondrous present. A wild mane of tousled, dark, rich red hair slowly emerged from hiding. Next, the well formed athletic back of a lightly tanned Elf lass emerged. Then, the full and shapely bottom appeared and stole Myst's breath and made him pause, and then pause again. He shook himself, thinking, “steady now, steady”. Myst continued pulling the covers away. Long, pretty legs appeared until she was completely exposed.
Then, quick as a jaguar, she turned and lunged at Myst. He caught a quick glance of a fine perfect breast that froze him in place before he could move. Around his neck came a slender arm, tightening and pulling him over a firm hip and onto the bed. The she-cat straddled his chest, a forearm pressed against his wind pipe. Fiery amethyst eyes flashed at him.
“Some spy you are,” she accused.
The effect of her naked body sitting on his chest had distracted his thought process. “Elise Starwood,” stated Myst. “I’m very glad to find you in my bed this morning, but I don’t recall you being there when I went to sleep”.
“I wanted to surprise you sweetness.”
“And a most pleasant surprise it is.”
Slowly she wiggled down his chest until her lips where brushing his, her breath gently tickling his mouth.
“Now that I’m here, and you’re awake, can you think of anything we might do to entertain ourselves,” she asked innocently.
He leaned forward and kissed her sweet warm lips. They parted and her tongue was smooth as velvet. His hands caressed the soft skin of her full breast. Her strong thighs parted around him and they were one.
“Well I guess I was wrong, today can get better after all,” thought a very pleased Myst to himself.
Later that noon, Myst left his small townhouse and wandered through the lush streets lined with shade trees and vibrant flowerbeds. He had put on his uniform, dark green trousers and sleeveless tunic with the Imperial gold sunburst emblem emblazoned on his chest. The tunic had the four small gold suns on his upper breast, the emblem of his rank of colonel. A short snug military coat went on and then Myst attached his sun sword to his waist instead of slung across his back as he had worn it this last year, and over his shoulders Myst had on the short military cape called a 'Pelisse'. Which he thought was a little bit over the top, taking the uniform from rather dashing, to something fit for a comic light opera. But Sun Elves were greatly concerned with style and beauty, so 'slightly over the top' was somewhat understandable, even expected.
His flat was located in the fashionable Lussanbourg Garden district of Palantar, one of the low hills that surrounded the harbor facing west toward the distant mountains. Having crossed over a beautiful stone bridge spanning a small bubbling stream, he was now walking through Beech Hill, a lively district of shops and cafés, on his way to the Government center on the middle and smallest hill, Plaza Vandom.
He stopped at one of the many outdoor cafés and had a tasty lunch of venison filled pastry, just sitting and watching the sights of the relaxed city pass by. He was enjoying the view, not only all of the attractive Elf lasses walking by his table, but of the wonderful city. He had a beautiful view of the harbor and the clear blue lake below. Myst marveled in the wonders of this picturesque city made up of elegant light stone buildings, containing over 250,000 elves.
On a warm, clear early autumn day like this, few of those walking by had on the long coats or short capes of winter, and no one was wearing the long open robes,
the Zwari. Of course the long robes were mainly worn for formal occasions or when the climate had turned really cold, so the lack of them in this weather was not really all that unusual. Myst had gotten use to wearing a heavy fur 'Zwari' for much of the last winter and spring in the more inclement Wildlands, where everyone wore either a heavy coat or robe on those cold misty moors. It was the main reason today he had put on the dashing short cape, out of habit, at least that is what he told himself.
Most of the lovely lasses walking by had on the halter-loin cloth attire that was worn during most of the year, and in a dazzling hue of various eye catching colors. A few of the females and all of the males had slim snug tight pants. The pants as you would expect from Elves, cut and styled in the most flattering and enticing ways possible.
Male Elves tended to be nearly as vain as the females, short jackets and snug sleeveless tunics was the norm, again with the addition of pants, the exception being the military who where all in their dashing uniforms similar to his own.
“I cannot believe that I am sitting here in this lovely outdoor cafe, watching the 'eye candy' walk by, and thinking about civilized fashion. A month ago I was hundreds of miles from the comfort of the nearest frontier village, trying hard to kill and not be killed by followers of the Shadow...”
Myst relaxed and enjoyed the freedom from constant fear and death his last mission had required. Here hundreds of civilians walked through the paved streets without a care in the world for their personal safety. They could do so in no small measure, because of the actions of elves like Myst. He had been a warrior for over a hundred years now, and the life of danger was ingrained deeply into his soul. For all of that, Myst was still not even middle age by Elven standards, in that they lived many hundreds of years, and did not even start to show their age until well after their five hundredth year.
Yes, this beautiful cosmopolitan Elven city was certainly a change for the better, but it would take some time to get used to being here, however long that lasted, and away from constant danger. Living on the moors of the Wildlands, just south of well more than a half million Orcs and Frost Elves, demanded a certain level of constant hyper vigilance.
Myst, like most Elves hated Orcs with a passion, and a year spent in the north killing them was not a year wasted. Why were Orcs so despised? It could be that they worshipped Gûr Rhien the Demon Goddess of Death, or that they were bent on world conquest (when they weren't killing each other), or that they completely lacked respect for any sentient life. The real reason was probably that Orcs were too closely related to Elves, all be it to the damn evil Shadow Elves.
Professor Kelaborn, one of the most powerful mages, and Master of the Twilight Keep, had confirmed the relationship to Myst one day a few years ago. Somehow, Myst found the kinship had been easier to stomach when it had only been a rumor and not a bitter fact. Kelaborn had spoken of the dark magic the Death Goddess Gûr Rhien, had used more than a hundred thousand years ago, to mate female shadow Elves with males of another race, to create the Orcs; what the other race was, no one was sure. Myst privately thought it was probably the Ogres or Trolls. But Kelaborn had suggested the paternal race might have been a type of pre-Humans. Myst asked why a Human, and why did he think they were the fathers of the Orcs?
"There are well, three types of humans, my boy," Myst remembered. The Professor enjoyed an attentive listener, and Myst was always a good listener, probably had to do with him being a spy and all. "The humans are usually found in one of three evolutionary stages, pre-humans or sometimes called old human, who were very hairy, had thick jaws, not very bright, and heavy brow ridges. Middle humans, still very violent and superstitious creatures, whose features resemble that of our Gnomes, but much taller and stronger. And then there are the New Humans, they are found only on a few worlds, but they show promise of becoming civilized and indeed are much of an improvement."
"So, why do you think the Orcs maybe part old Human?"
"Well it would explain the somewhat baboon appearance that Orcs seem to have, wouldn't it," Kelaborn had told him.
The pretty Sun Elf waitress came over and refilled Myst's glass; her honey brown hair, skimpy silk outfit, and bright smile more than made Myst glad to have picked this restaurant for lunch, maybe later...
“Take it slow, don't try and kill yourself by chasing every girl that comes in sight. It is a far cry from the few frontier females and handful of female military scouts found up north to chase, not that they made chasing very hard, but the variety was somewhat limited.”
Myst got up and dropped two, ten crown silver pieces onto the table, resuming his leisurely stroll. Crossing the Plaza of the Sun, with it’s great fountain and towering oak trees, he approached the immense granite Imperial General Staff building and went up the wide white steps.
Two members of the elite (at least they thought so) 2nd Life Guard Regiment stood guarding the massive bronze doors. They where in their gold trimmed dark green military trousers, short jackets, and gold short capes. Resplendent in their gleaming golden finished breastplate armor, shin guards, and matching helms. The Life Guards were the only infantry unit that still wore the heaver ceremonial armor. The only ones that did so with good reason, since heavy armor had become obsolete with the advent of the heavy crossbow, and down right dangerous with the invention of the rapid-fire compound crossbow. A trained fusilier could get off five deadly bolts in less than a minute, which would punch clean through the armor. Lighter more agile armor of leather or chain increased survivability now days.
The compound crossbow with its small pulleys at the tips of the bow allowed the crossbow to fire from a powerful frame, which could be easily re-cocked by hand. And without the necessity of the old style mechanical crank or winch. Deadly accurate at 50 yards; and somewhat effective against massed troops at 100 yards; heavy armor had become a liability not an asset. Speed and agility was what kept one alive in combat. Mostly just heavy Calvary now days still wore the Cuirass, the steel breast and back plate into battle.
The two Life Guards came to attention as he approached the open door way, bringing their short military halberds up in salute. This action surprised Myst for a moment, not being use to wearing his uniform. Swiftly he bought his right fist to his left chest in a mostly correct looking salute. Into the high wide marble hall he strode, up the grand marble stairs and into the highly restricted area.
“Colonel Mystros Greydon Sunstar, for General Mars Trendel,” Myst told the Aid in the reception area.
“Good afternoon Colonel, the General is waiting for you,” piped a very young and pretty Ensign, coming to attention and then leading him to the General’s door.
“A Sun Elf with black hair, how lovely, one of the rarer of colors for Sun Elf’s, a Wild Elf or a Star Elf yes, and certainly for a Shadow Elf, but slightly unusual for us.”
Myst followed, watched the sway of her hips in the short military kilt, and wondered, how do you get a soft posting to The Imperial General Staff Head Quarters, as a brand new Ensign right out of the Academy. His first posting had been to the Province of Surin and the very lively Border Rangers. Days of hiking through the semi-arid low mountains and oak grasslands, just crawling with Orc “bandits,” Kushian smugglers, and vicious Rock Trolls. “Not much chance of getting snake bit at the GSHQ, then again, with a rear end like hers, maybe there was...”
She led him to a large set of polished wood doors leading into a massive office. On the wall above the doors was a brass plaque proclaiming that the occupant was the Director General of the Intelligence and Security Service.
“We don't hide our spy's I guess; how would anyone know we had them if we didn't have brass signs up?”
“Hello General,” Myst greeted the imposing officer seated behind the great oak desk at the far end of the room, this time pulling off the salute with somewhat greater panache.
“Did you get lost Colonel, hum, not been to the capital lately, decided to take a tour instead of reporting” gruffed the older silver haired E
lf?
“Yes sir, I haven’t been here for awhile; you had me in the northern wild lands looking for a Shadow Elf who was slaying our couriers.”
“Took you long enough to kill the bastard.”
“He really didn’t want to die and so stayed in Yagon. I had to wait for him to cross the border. Per your instructions.”
Myst vividly recalled the look of surprise in the eyes of the evil Shadow Elf as Myst pulled his sword’s blade from his chest. It had been a bloody mission against the Shadow Elves, who were operating in the Wildlands between the northern border of the Empire and the Orc controlled land of Yagon. The area was nominally in Sun Elf control, but so scarcely populated and full of bandits you wouldn't know it.
The Principality of the ‘Wildlands’ was a dependent province of the Empire. Myst had spent the last year in the high moors, also looking to kill a nest of the Shadow Elves spies that were adding to their sometimes allies, the Orcs of Yagon, and the Frost Elves tribes found in the far north. Just one more skirmish in a war between the Elves of Light and the Followers of the Dark Goddess. A war that had lasted for many thousands of years and will most likely last till world’s end it seemed.
Myst went over the highlights of the mission, “Not that all this was not in his dispatches, but Generals being Generals…” “There were a few Frost Elves working with the Shadow Elves as scouts, so it looks like they have repaired relations, at least for a while.” Myst reflected as he finished his summation.
“Give it time Colonel, those pale skinned ice cubes are too volatile to stay allies long with anyone, even among themselves, maybe particularly among themselves.”
“Two sides to the same coin General, complete opposites the Frost and Shadow elves but the same psychotic tendencies. One of the Frost Elves escaped and will give us problems in the future, Agnarr he is very good, tall well over six feet, very pale white skin, and ghostly pale grey eyes that almost seem to glow; a highly dangerous killer. Originally of Clan Stonecrow, now a mercenary.”
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