The Rogue Elf of Urlas- Songs of Shadow Read online

  Contents

  The Rogue Elf of Urlas

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  Forward to Echoes of Time

  Half-Bloods Rising

  Chapter 1 The Urlas Woodlands

  Chapter 2 The Spice Runner and Sea Dwarves

  Chapter 3 Upon the Aela Sunrise

  Chapter 4 Bleaklands

  Chapter 5 Shells of Meredaas

  Chapter 6 Lost

  Chapter 7 Ice Drake

  Chapter 8 The Maelstrom

  Chapter 9 Demons At The Gate

  Chapter 10 Shattering of the Skies

  Chapter 11 Tormentor

  Chapter 12 Upon the Seas

  Bonus content #1

  Seer of Lost Sands

  Map of Vindas Sea Region

  Chapter 1 Five Years

  Chapter 2 Swamp House

  Chapter 3 Old Temple

  Chapter 4 What is not yours...

  Chapter 5 A Dismal Port

  Chapter 6 Cyr Islands

  Chapter 7 Sold

  Chapter 8 Blood-letting

  Chapter 9 Relic

  Chapter 10 Gladiators

  Chapter 11 Eh-Rin

  Chapter 12 Secrets of Sands

  Chapter 13 The Sword That Flies Toward Common Foe

  Chapter 14 Mirages

  Chapter 15 Thunder and Lightning

  Chapter 16 The Lost

  Chapter 17 Torn Revelations

  Chapter 18 Dark Tidings

  Bonus content #2

  Shadow of the Orc Star

  Map of the Riverlands and Greater Varmark

  Chapter 1 The Lost Woods

  Chapter 2 Scions

  Chapter 3 Heir of the Dwemhar

  Chapter 4 In the Elven Realm

  Chapter 5 Burning Ash

  Chapter 6 High King

  Chapter 7 Moonrise

  Chapter 8 Shadow Play

  Chapter 9 Moonfall

  Chapter 10 Catacombs

  Chapter 11 The Looking Cliff

  Chapter 12 Gathering

  Chapter 13 Dark Truth

  Chapter 14 All Shadows Fall

  Chapter 15 Bloodbath

  Chapter 16 Lost

  Chapter 17 Fires of the Fallen

  Bonus content #3

  Author's Note for the Songs of Shadow Boxset

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  Copyright

  The Rogue Elf of Urlas

  (Songs of Shadow Trilogy)

  Half-ELf Chronicles Books One, Two, and Three

  ©2019 J.T. Williams

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  Aieclo (Ranger’s Revenge #3)

  Epochs (Clockmaster’s Shroud #1)

  Shards of Etha (Clockmaster’s Shroud #2)

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  HALF-ELF CHRONICLES

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  Necromancer’s Curse

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  Forward to The Rogue Elf of Urlas

  If you’re new to the world of the Dwemhar and my epic fantasy world, welcome! You’re getting the first three books of my bestselling Half-Elf Chronicles series and you’re in for a wild ride. From the icy Glacial Seas and the secrets of the ancient races of old, to the southern deserts where demons haunt the sands, and eventually the Riverlands of lower Taria and the war against the Clan of Ur, you will not expect the story you’re about to read. If you’re a veteran of my world, you’ll love the bonus material I’ve included after each book!

  May the gods of the North watch over you,

  -J.T. Williams

  Half-Bloods Rising

  Half-Elf Chronicles Book 1

  Updated 3rd Edition

  ©2019 J.T. Williams

  Chapter 1 The Urlas Woodlands

  He tasted the tinge of blood in his mouth. Kealin spat and moved his elven blade into an angle behind him. His master called this a guarded stance. He studied his adversary, watching his breathing, his footwork, his subtle movements, and his slight nuances that hinted at his next moves. His opponent moved forward and spun, slashing low before jumping into the air. The blade swung toward his head. He dodged it, sidestepping to the left before kicking his opponent’s knee. He moved his hand along his hilt, spinning the blade to strike, only to parry another blow meant for his shoulder. The shadowy form of an elven warrior recoiled, and now it took a guarded stance.

  Gravel sliding under his feet as he shifted his weight, Kealin ran forward. His opponent, taken by surprise in his agility, faltered. He struck him twice. His bare chest was chilled by the night air, but the half-elf did not mind. His blood was hot, and he was eager to fight.

  Two more opponents, greater in size than the first, rushed him. He jumped, slashing one across the chest. The second one was more determined, but through a series of careful parries, he too fell. Now another one approached. This one was larger, and the half-elf knew he must be ready.

  All around him, the trees of the great elven woodlands were alive with the songs of night. A faint glow of the moon was on large green leaves that rustled with a strong wind. The larger man was upon him. He worked to disengage, moving to the left, but the swordsman moved with him. He had played fair until now. His master would be happy with his work so far, but he was not one to rely on mere teachings.

  He reached behind his back, drawing a second blade, and rushed his opponent. He struck repeatedly with the first blade. With a careful twist of wrist, he forced the man’s sword upward. He locked the man’s blade high. A split moment later, he buried the second sword deep in his stomach.

  He smiled as the man fell to the ground.

  “Kealin, your skill with two blades is exceptional. If only you could do such tasks without two blades. I am impressed but cannot approve of this. Your brother will not approve of such either.”

  The voice was that of Blade Master Rukes, and his own tone was less than approving.

  “Then you can tell Taslun of my folly,” Kealin replied.

  “There is no need, little brother.”

  Kealin turned to see his brother approaching the arena grounds. The collapsed forms of the phantoms he had faced vanished in a flash of sand. His brother approached just as the last one was blown away in the winds.

  “The Urlas Blades use one sword, not two.”

  Taslun was the epitome of what the Urlas Woodlands wished to produce in a swordsman. Fearsome in many regards, he was also tall and slender. At all times, he had a long curved blade strapped to his back. He had spent many years learning his craft, and the lineage of their father was with him. He had pointed ears and blond hair he kept long down his back.

  “I cannot expect a brother of mine to have such disregard for or
der.”

  “Then be sure Calak knows so he will not disappoint you. He is closer to you in blood; the elf side of him is strong. I must make up for that as I see I must.”

  “What you must do is come home now. Master Rukes is done with your disappointing practice.”

  Rukes confirmed his brother’s words. “Tomorrow, young one. We will further your sword work.”

  Kealin bowed to his master and followed Taslun away.

  They walked in silence from the arena. Under towering pine trees and beside the pools of the great lake, they passed over the white stone bridges that connected the cobblestone paths running around the entire lake. This was the Urlas Woodlands. A grand woods an entire world away from troubled lands. They were on the edge of this place. A large sea encircled their lands, but none normally left their shores. They were all safe here. It was an enchanted realm that only those of elven blood could find and dwell within. It was also a purist elf domain, but his family was allowed admittance. His father was a renowned Blade, the sacred elven swordsmen skilled in their blade work learned over hundreds of years. His father had earned his place in Urlas from fighting in wars long ago. But when he came, he brought his wife, a human.

  Kealin was the younger brother to Taslun, and older brother to Calak, who teetered between his stalwart eldest brother and Kealin when it came to his own desires. Taslun was a step from joining the Blades of Urlas. He was just awaiting his final trials and the christening of the Blades.

  Calak was hastily coming up and was like his brother Kealin in every way, but still not of the skill that he had obtained. In fact, Kealin was on track to surpass that of Taslun, but he believed he could never serve as a Blade of Urlas. His blood was not elven enough; he, like his sister, Alri, had taken after their mother. It wasn’t like they didn’t look like the other elves, but the council had deemed their blood not as pronounced. Alri was lucky in some regard. She was a mage, and fortunately for her, the mages did not have the same standards as the Blades. She, like their mother, was under the direction of High Archon Oaur, and was trained in many forms of spell craft. Though she was the youngest, she was not the type to be ignored.

  “Father has called us home early; otherwise we would have tested your skill with dual blades against my own.”

  Kealin shook his head. “Why must we do that? Do you not believe your skill to be enough? We have ended that duel in a draw every time.”

  “I would like to show you what it means to be a real swordsman. You cannot claim a draw when a duel turns into you rolling around on the ground like an animal, kicking dirt in my eyes.”

  “But that is a duel in honor you speak of. In combat, it would be warranted. You can train for duels. I expect to use my skill for more than that.”

  “That would only be by the blessing of Master Rukes, which you will never get using two blades. Perhaps he will look over your half-elf blood if you will simply embrace his teachings.”

  Taslun spoke to him like their father, and that annoyed him.

  “I do not disregard his teachings; only, I feel that they can be added to. The confines of the Blades restrict our actions.”

  “You cannot add to the traditions of our ancestors. One day, you will understand what I say.”

  Kealin stopped. “And one day you will all understand that I do not stand for our ancestors as you do. You and I are the same. Half-bloods. But you were deemed ‘pure’ by the council while I was deemed less.”

  Taslun turned. “I don’t care if you stand as I do, but it is time we stop bickering as we do every day. We have no control over the council. Besides, there is news Father brings that I do not feel is the kind we want. I saw them packing earlier; he and Mother are preparing to leave.”

  They followed the path up into the mountains and to a wooden structure built into the trees. It had stone lining the lower level, with wooden walls reaching up around a massive white tree. Their house itself was built into the tree, with interlinking platforms and structures that rose up in small towers, blending into the foliage above.

  Calak sat cross-legged on a bench, looking outward beside Alri, who turned to see them. Their sister twirled her hair between two fingers and blew a loose strand out of her face.

  “You are back,” she said. “How did it go?”

  “Taslun is most displeased,” Kealin replied.

  Taslun said nothing but smirked and shook his head.

  “Children,” a voice said. It was abrupt, and frankly, not the tone he preferred to hear.

  Kealin turned to see their father and mother approaching from the upper alcoves. His father was in the silver armor of their people, and their mother held her wooden staff in the crook of her arm. She smiled at them.

  “Come up here,” their father said.

  They followed in turn, with Calak approaching Kealin. He punched him in the shoulder.

  “Two blades, again?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know you are not supposed to do that.”

  Kealin glared at him, and he chuckled.

  “Did you win?”

  “Of course.”

  Calak smiled, and Kealin did the same.

  Following each other up a wooden stairwell, they joined their parents along an open-air balcony. The sights of the woodlands and the lights from other dwellings were easy to see from atop their own home. The dark woods contrasted to the starlit sky where fairies fluttering in the upper boughs of the trees looked at first like falling stars if you did not expect them leaping from branch to branch. Even far away from the other elves, they could hear flutes playing on the wind.

  Kealin took a seat with the others. A large dinner was prepared but set only for four. As Kealin and his siblings stared, waiting, their father spoke.

  “We are leaving and we depart tonight.”

  “Leaving?” said Calak. “Where to and why can we not come? It is so sudden. Where is the enemy? No one else prepares.”

  “They do. A great host is assembled but it has been mostly in secret. Our world is safe, children. But others are not so well. The gods of the northern world are faltering in their war against those we call the Itsu, the malevolent southern gods. Though the Itsu cannot enter these realms themselves, their actions are felt. We of magic are threatened, and we must respond.

  “They have called all elves to the lands for a great war. The gods are in need of our skill. Shaman Iouir has foreseen greater misfortune striking the lands soon. The one called Kel has sought us Blades, in particular. We, with others, go to the calling of the gods.”

  “Then I will prepare my blade and leave with you,” said Taslun.

  “I forbid it.”

  “But I am trained as a Blad—”

  “You are still a pupil in need of further training and more summers behind you. Until the Blade Master decrees, you are not to depart these lands, nor will any of you others. Kealin, that means you, as well.”

  His father focused his eyes on him and Kealin inhaled, nodding.

  “Of course, Father,” he replied.

  Kealin respected his father more than he let on to the others, and his father’s trust and respect meant much to him. It was one of the few things that did.

  “Mother, why must you go? You are not an elf,” Alri said.

  “I know what I am, Alri. But I am trained as an Archon Mage; my powers will be needed. I have lived safely here for many years, and my life has been extended beyond that of normal length many, many times. I have been blessed by the elves, and I must repay that debt.”

  Alri did not seem convinced or calmed by their mother’s words. She was red in the face and sniffled.

  “Your mother and I regret this happening, but know that you are kept well in the Urlas Woodlands. Trouble will not befall you here. Rest, eat, and train yourselves, for the time may come when the bloodshed requires you to take part, but we hope that is not for many more moons.”

  They said little else other than goodbyes before departing. Shared hugs and swift kisses on
the cheek followed. Kealin went to his father.

  “Do well and be safe.”

  “We will, for all of you.” He looked down on him and then placed his arms around him. “I know you do not respect the ways of the elves, and I do not hold that fact against you, but remember that to use your blade for no reason but to kill makes you as the enemy yourself—senseless. Use your mind, son. It will not fail you, even if your blade does. That is the difference between you and your brother Taslun.” He paused, “Remember that you must resist the path your sword will crave. I have done greater deeds with my blade sheathed than drawn.”

  “I will draw blood when it is necessary.”

  “Spoken as a Blade, son.”

  His father patted him on the back, and Kealin followed the others to the southern gate.

  The southern gate was a sheer stone near the edge of the great elven lake known as Eldmer. A large gathering was already present on the shores.

  Their parents left them, joining many others boarding silver wooden vessels destined for the southern lands.

  The four siblings stood off to the side, away from the others. Their half-blood status had forced them to the fringes of society. It angered Kealin at first as he had aged, but now he embraced it. They were to be silent, as a custom, as the southern gate opened. Of course, he had no plan to.

  Flutes began to play a sweet melody, and a loud horn called. The sheer stone wall split down the center and opened. It was through a lighted cave the elven host would pass, arriving into the other realm and to the world of danger, where they were called. Once through the passage of rock, they would emerge through a portal taking them much farther south than if they had simply sailed out of the bay. From their exiting of the Urlas realm, they could cut across the grand seas in great time. As the ships began to leave the docks, Kealin figured it was a good time.

  “For the realms of Urlas, serve us well, elves!”

  There were immediate glances from the other elves of Urlas. This was a moment of silence, but Kealin had never understood a reason to solemnly look on without any expression. His parents turned and smiled to him.