Song of Echoes Read online

  Song

  of

  Echoes

  Book One

  R.E. PALMER

  FrontRunner Publications

  Copyright © 2021 R.E. Palmer

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-8383995-0-4

  www.FrontRunnerBooks.com

  Cover art by Kentaro Kanamoto

  www.kentarokanamoto.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thanks to Erin Kahn, Amy Buckle, Janet Allmey and Pat Marum for reading the drafts and providing valuable and honest feedback. I really appreciate your time, commitment and ongoing support.

  Amy Buckle has an excellent book blog which can be found at amybucklesbookshelf.co.uk

  MAP OF THE FIVE REALMS

  A large version of the map on the following pages

  is available to download and print at

  FrontRunnerBooks.com

  1. Pillars of the Sky

  Of all tales, the tragic fate of the Three Maidens alone can bring a tear to the eye of even the hardest of souls. It is told, the Gods at the dawn of time grew weary of their work, leaving the young world unfinished. As the Gods slept, their daughters ventured into this land eager to visit the promised new realm. But to their dismay, the rising sun on that first morning exposed only chaos. Undeterred, the Maidens took it upon themselves to complete what their fathers had forsaken. With voices pure, they sang of their desire for order, giving rise to the Song of Creation. With each verse, hills, rivers, trees, and lastly, glistening blue seas emerged from the shapeless mass.

  The Maidens then rested on the soft grass to admire the wonders they had created. But the world appeared yet empty and silent. More verses they sang, bringing forth birds, fish and land-bound creatures to inhabit the abundant forests, meadows, rivers and oceans to the delight of the Maidens. And, of all those they brought into the world, it is said they cherished the songbirds the most.

  But unbeknown to them, their voices had carried to the ears of one who could not tolerate beauty, desiring instead the disorder of the unmade land. Far beneath the surface, the Evil One stirred. The ground trembled as he rose from his throne and climbed the stone steps. In the many days it took to ascend, the Evil One fashioned the guise of a fair face to conceal his hatred of the Maidens’ song. And so it was in this altered form he greeted the daughters of the Gods. At first, they were wary of the new arrival not of their making. But his silken words eased their doubt, as in their innocence, they could not perceive the devious nature of evil and chose not to heed the songbirds’ misgivings. Thus, the Maidens were deceived and accepted the offer of this stranger, seemingly wise and fair, to enhance their creation. Yet, once the Evil One had gained full knowledge of their song, and could endure the pain of its purity no more, he struck. Of the centuries of torment and vile acts the Evil One inflicted on the poor Maidens, the tales do not tell, for no mortal ears can suffer to hear of such dark deeds.

  Not satisfied with their corruption alone, the Evil One moved to bring the sky crashing down upon the world to destroy the work of the Maidens. Too late did the Gods rise from their slumber. Little choice did they have but to sacrifice the rolling hills of the middle lands to thwart the Evil One’s desire. With immense force, the Gods drove the east hurtling into the west, forming a colossal mountain wall to shore up the falling sky.

  As the jagged peaks erupted forth, the Evil One fled, seeking the sanctuary of his underworld realm to bide his time. Too weak to pursue their foe, the Gods made the mighty mount of Caranach to seal for eternity the gateway to his domain.

  With the land saved, the Gods sought their daughters in vain. Distraught and driven to madness, they failed to notice the pleas of the songbirds and, in their sorrow believing them dead, abandoned the world never to return.

  Alas, for the Maidens, the tale does not end there, but few have the strength of character to listen to the very end. While the Evil One plots his return from beneath the mountain, the daughters of the Gods yet live. Fearing their defilement would bring shame upon their fathers, they had hidden beneath the thick ice far to the north. But still the Evil One’s will holds sway, forcing their ruined throats to shriek new verses of his making, befouling the unfinished song to serve his own purpose. What the Maidens’ spring brings into the world, the Evil One’s winter withers away. That formed by the pure, first verses of the Song, the Evil One’s cunning lures those that follow to spoil. And still the corrupt verses flow. To this day, those wandering the wilds at night, despair at the Maidens’ desperate wails carried by the bitter winds blowing in from the north.

  Of the mountains, Caranach still stands, forcing the fabric of the night sky to such a height the falling stars, snared, and dislodged by its towering peak, burn out long before they scorch the earth. But while the people take heart in its magnitude; gales, driven rain, and ice will, over time, wear down a mountain. And the Evil One waits, aiding the elements, pounding the foundations with his great hammer, shaking the earth to open the deep fissures and topple Caranach.

  Of the discord sown by the Evil One's verses, the full tale cannot be told, for the echo of the Song reaches all dark corners of the world, stirring hatred in the hearts of an ancient enemy long believed vanquished.

  Toryn nudged the fence post with his foot. ‘Well, that part of the tale’s not true.’

  ‘What you say?’ Jerrum joined him at the top of the ridge.

  Toryn looked at the younger man and pointed to the post. ‘Look, it’s not moving.’

  Jerrum frowned. ‘I don’t get it. Should it?’

  Toryn laughed. ‘No, of course not. Just thinking about the Three Maidens and the mountains. If the story was true, that post should roll towards Caranach owing to its weight buckling the land’s crust.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Jerrum picked up the post. ‘But look, if you put it over here it would roll’ — he stepped back and scratched his head — ‘but not towards the mountains.’

  Toryn took it from Jerrum. ‘Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t being serious.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Jerrum’s eyes narrowed. His face turned pink.

  ‘But I’m serious about keeping your eyes on the trees. Hamar reckoned a wolf was howling in the night.’

  Jerrum spun around. ‘I thought you were joking.’

  Toryn nodded at his bow, leaning against the wheel of the cart. ‘Why do you think I brought that?’

  ‘Aren’t we going to practice?’ Jerrum searched the line of trees. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever seen a wolf around here.’

  Toryn snapped his hand like a wolf’s jaw and growled. ‘Want to take the risk? Just keep your eyes open and grab my bow if one comes out of the wood.’

  Jerrum’s face turned orange. Toryn glanced behind. The sun shone, large and red, from between the low cloud and dark horizon. For weeks the heavy clouds had clung to the sky, defying the breeze to move them along and make way for spring. Toryn turned and stood on his toes. His heart leaped. Above the treetops, far to the north—east, the faint snowy crest of the mountain reflected the evening rays. He came as often as he could to the ridge to gaze upon Caranach’s peak, his only contact with the world beyond the borders of his home. As a child he had spent hours perched in the highest trees to gaze at the mountain and plot his escape from the village. But now, in his twenty—first year, climbing was out of the question and the trees would soon outpace him and take away his lifelong friend. He gestured towards the peak. ‘Good to see it again.’

  Jerrum squinted over the trees. ‘Your eyes must be better than mine. All I can see are clouds.’

  Toryn pointed. ‘Over there. It’s a peak, a snowy one, so I guess it might be mistaken for a cloud.’ He kept his eyes on Caranach. ‘Wish we could visit more of the land beyond the fences.’

 
Jerrum wrinkled his nose. ‘Not for me. Bad enough knowing there’s a wolf in the woods, but it’s them other creatures I’d rather not meet.’

  Toryn turned away and trudged back to the cart to collect more fence posts. He called over. ‘Surely you don’t believe all Hamar tells you?’

  ‘About dark creatures? Yes, I do, because I hear them at night. Besides, you believed the old man about the wolf.’

  ‘That’s different. They’re for real. But nothing else to worry about ever comes near here. Why would they? Not much to be had.’ Toryn tugged the next post from the back of the cart. ‘Don’t you want to travel? See the world and all its mysteries?’

  Jerrum took the stake from Toryn. ‘Not for me, even if we were allowed.’ He tutted like a man three times his age. ‘No, I’m happy staying put, knowing all I want to know, thanks.’ He shivered. ‘I don’t want to be dragged off to some smelly cave by a cobtroll, and I certainly don’t want to be swallowed up whole by a stinking, slavering droog.’

  Toryn grinned at the farmhand. ‘As I said, don’t go believing everything the old boy tells you. Half the time he’s pulling your leg.’ He checked the sun sinking in the west. ‘Right, I reckon we’ve just enough light to set three more stakes.’

  Jerrum peered over Toryn’s shoulder. ‘Talking of the old man, here he comes.’ Across the field, Hamar swayed from side to side as his bent legs struggled with the thick mud sticking to his boots.

  Toryn nodded towards the approaching figure. ‘Then I reckon we’ve just enough time to drive in two more before he arrives and tells us we should have finished by now.’

  Jerrum sniggered. ‘Shall I fetch the bow? Even I could take him down from here.’

  Toryn laughed as he handed the second post to Jerrum and tucked the third under his arm. He checked Hamar’s progress. ‘Better get a move on. He’s faster than he looks. Beats me how he keeps going at his age.’ They headed back up the ridge. But Toryn’s mind was elsewhere, and his eyes instinctively wandered back to the pink-tinged mountain.

  He had dreamed of scaling its peak since the day he first heard the name of Caranach on his mother’s knee. Her stories of the world beyond their borders both fascinated and frightened him. Many a night he had lain awake in his bed, scared the demons would escape from beneath the gigantic mountain. He chuckled at the young Toryn who had become anxious the day his father and Hamar dug the footing for the new barn. He had begged them not to go too deep in case they disturbed the beasts below.

  ‘What you smiling about?’ Jerrum stopped at the fence.

  ‘Nothing.’ Toryn placed his post on the ground. ‘Here, pass me that one.’

  His mind went back to the day the foundations had been dug. That night, he came down with the Winter Fever and his troubled dreams had conjured up strange creatures threatening to haul him down to their underworld. He had tossed and turned until the soft voice of his mother singing drove them away, allowing him to sleep.

  He shrugged. ‘Let’s finish this.’ He paced eight steps from the last post and pushed the next into place. ‘Hand me the sledgehammer.’ He took it from Jerrum, hoisted it above his head and slammed down on the post. It sank easily into the soft earth. He raised the hammer again and stumbled back as he fought to bring it under control.

  Jerrum held out a hand. ‘Do you want me to do it?’

  Toryn reset his stance. ‘No!’ He held up a hand. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout. No, thanks, I can do it.’ He tried once more, this time swinging and strike the post. Satisfied it would hold, he bent to catch his breath before taking the next from Jerrum. He measured another eight steps, knocked in the post with the handle, and planted his feet ready to drive it home. As he lifted, the mountaintop caught his eye again.

  With a brisk pace and pleasant weather, Toryn calculated he could reach the range in around three days, given the chance. But that was unlikely. Instead, he would have to settle with making the journey in his head. Under his bed, he kept an old map Hamar had given him when he was ten, saying, ‘Take this, but don’t tell no one.’ Toryn spent hours poring over its wiggly lines, careful not to let the candle wax drip on the map’s worn cloth. The jagged peaks of the Kolossos Mountains, resembling the spine on a half-starved cow, dissected four of the Five Realms. To the south of the mountains, the mighty Foranfae Forest spanned much of the breadth of the realm of Farrand. And lastly, on the southern border of the forest, sat the fortress city of Archonholm. The great citadel was the seat of their leader, the Archon. His courage alone had saved the realms in the dark days as he fought bravely to repel the Golesh invasion from the south.

  Yet Toryn’s eye was forever drawn to the celebrated Caerwal Gate, an immense structure sealing the pass. Should it fall, the way would open to the hostile hordes, eager to seize the lands and free people of the north. Even as a child, Toryn was not spared the chilling tales of the Golesh, as they laid waste to the southern realms, enslaving those unfortunate to survive the onslaught. Beneath his bedclothes, Toryn had tried to push the ever-present threat from his mind by planning adventures in the world of the map. He imagined stepping into the faded cloth to explore the known lands. But always his curiosity got the better of him as he envisaged what lay in the blank areas of Hamar’s map. To the north, beyond the abandoned Draegelan Trench, the frozen lands of Nordruuk remained mostly a mystery. And what had become of the Lost Realms at the bottom of the map, none could tell.

  Toryn struck the post home. But still the mountain beckoned. He recalled the route suggested by Hamar. He would spend the morning navigating the winding paths through the neighboring woodlands, then stop to eat lunch while dipping his tired feet in the cool waters of Tam Ford. Late afternoon would bring him to the edge of the trees. Here he would snare a rabbit and cook it over his campfire while watching the lofty peaks of the approaching range catch the last of the evening sun. Under a starry sky, he could stroll across the wide grasslands, avoiding their sporadic settlements as he could not be sure how the occupants would react to a stranger in their midst. At midnight, he would take a late supper of bread and cheese, then rest to prepare for the next day.

  Toryn would be on his way well before dawn to cross the gentle foothills. But the sun could not warm his face until well past midday when it finally climbed above the lesser peaks of Kinderach and Lugnach. Come the afternoon, he would search for a course to the lower slopes of the great mountain. The Kolossos Pass was not open to the likes of him. Toryn would have no chance of evading the eyes of the vigilant watchtower keepers, thus denying him the straightforward route. But he did not want to take the easy pathway; he welcomed the hardship. The sheer cliffs of the Kolossos range rise impossibly high from the earth, throwing down their challenge to a mere man to venture on their slopes. But in his heart, Toryn knew he was no simple man. He would be equal to that challenge, finding his way between their walls to earn the right to climb Caranach. Once at the summit he could stand and survey the entire world and—

  ‘Watch out, he’s almost here.’ Jerrum nodded towards the old man approaching the ridge.

  Hamar stopped for breath and called up. ‘Thought you’d have finished the job by now.’

  Toryn winked at Jerrum. ‘Told you.’

  Hamar completed the last few steps and stood puffing gouts of vapor through his thick beard. He narrowed his eyes at Jerrum. ‘What you giggling about like a girl?’

  Jerrum bit his lip. ‘Oh, nothing. Toryn was telling me about exploring and stuff.’

  Hamar smiled and nodded at the trees. ‘Dreaming again, eh?’

  Jerrum shuddered. ‘Nightmares more like.’

  Toryn took the last post from Jerrum. ‘Just making a few journeys in my head.’

  Hamar ran his hand along the newly laid fence. ‘Dream if you must, but don’t let it distract you from your duties. A hard day’s work never hurt anyone.’

  Toryn eyed the woods. He knew if he even dared to enter without permission, word would soon reach the ears of Marshal Drakelow. Within hours, Toryn woul
d find himself languishing in a cell awaiting trial for trespassing. No, he would have to forget any idea of leaving. The only way out was to join the Archonian Guard, but passing the trial was unlikely. Younger lads in the village, including Jerrum, were stronger and would surely be chosen ahead of him. If he struggled to lift a sledgehammer, how could he swing the heavy blades favored by the guardsmen? They had selected only three in Toryn’s lifetime. Of those, one had returned in a box, and no word had been heard of the remaining two for eight years. Of all the men in the village who had seen duty, only Hamar remained. But he had paid a heavy price for his time in service, returning with a crippling injury that had taken years to heal. And as Hamar’s memory faded and his stories became confused with the old myths, Toryn’s world had shrunk.

  He turned away, positioned the post, and stepped back, ready to take a swing, muttering. ‘Just what we need, another fence.’

  Hamar’s attention was on the woods. ‘No sign of the wolf, then? Stay wary, lads. There’re more hungry creatures about these days. But’ — he stroked his beard — ‘not all of them are wild animals. And maybe it’s not only our crops and livestock that interests them.’ He turned to face the darker skies. ‘I hear we’ll be re-enforcing our border with Noor this summer. Drakelow says they’re worried about raiders from the north finding their way down here.’

  Jerrum glanced to them both. ‘The Archon’s soldiers will see us right, won’t they?’

  Hamar exhaled. ‘They can’t be everywhere all the time, lad.’ The blood drained from Jerrum’s cheeks. Toryn nudged Hamar. The old man rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry. We can take care of ourselves if needs be, and the guards would come soon enough.’ Hamar grunted as he bent down to the soil. ‘Anyways, we have other problems to keep us occupied for now. It’ll be another poor summer if the early spring’s anything to go by.’ He groaned as he straightened his back. He held out a gnarled hand cupping a tiny seedling. ‘This should be twice the size this time of year.’