‘All that has gone before is woven into the Song; joy, sorrow; kind acts and cruel acts; creation and destruction. Past, present, and what has yet to come, make themselves known — if you know how to listen.’
For three hundred years, the people of the Five Realms have lived in relative peace, protected by their great leader, the Archon. Yet, far to the north, in the frozen lands beyond the Draegalen Trench, the Ruuk stir, driven by a rising evil; long believed banished from the world. But rumors questioning the Archon’s ability to defend the realms once more, persist.
Elodi, the Lady Harlyn, uneasy in her new role following the death of her father, and Toryn, a farmworker and outsider in his village, must discover a way to fight an enemy that all but defeated their ancestors.
Song of Echoes is the first book in this epic fantasy series.
‘All that has gone before is woven into the Song; joy, sorrow; kind acts and cruel acts; creation and destruction. Past, present, and what has yet to come, make themselves known — if you know how to listen.’
For three hundred years, the people of the Five Realms have lived in relative peace, protected by their great leader, the Archon. Yet, far to the north, in the frozen lands beyond the Draegalen Trench, the Ruuk stir, driven by a rising evil; long believed banished from the world. But rumors questioning the Archon’s ability to defend the realms once more, persist.
Elodi, the Lady Harlyn, uneasy in her new role following the death of her father, and Toryn, a farmworker and outsider in his village, must discover a way to fight an enemy that all but defeated their ancestors.
Song of Echoes is the first book in this epic fantasy series.
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 would 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.’
‘Lucky it’s not.’ Jerrum laughed. ‘You’d struggle to lift it.’
‘That’s enough of your lip.’ Hamar grinned. ‘Give me a sword and I could still teach you a lesson.’
Toryn glanced at the plant in Hamar’s hand. ‘I guess it does look sorry for itself.’
Hamar shivered. ‘This ain’t right. It’s too cold for the time of year.’ He stooped, groaning again as he replaced the shoot. ‘We’ll need every last one to thrive if we’re not to starve next winter.’ He spoke softly to the shoot as he patted down the soil. He glanced up. ‘This is my seventieth — no, seventy-first spring, and I’ve never known it like this.’ He pushed down on his knees and stood. ‘One after the other, no decent sun for... what is it? Three, four years now? If you were to ask me, I would say—’ Hamar sighed, shaking his head. ‘You’ve not listened to a word I’ve said have you, lads.’ His brow furrowed as he squinted at the horizon. ‘Think we’ll call it a day. I’ve finished repairing the barn door so can give you a hand with the rails tomorrow.’
The three squeezed onto the seat of the cart. Toryn passed the reins to Jerrum. ‘You take the old boy in.’
Jerrum chuckled. ‘Hamar or Ned?’
Hamar’s elbow jabbed into Jerrum’s ribs. ‘Watch it, next time it won’t be my elbow, and it will be sharper.’
Jerrum clicked his tongue. ‘Take us home, Ned, before Hamar forgets why he needs his sword.’
He laughed again, but Toryn ignored him, choosing instead to take in the view. The setting sun picked out the furrows in the fields and shed some light between the thick trunks of Midwyche Wood. Ahead, the River Tam still flowed fast with the youth of the mountain springs. Further to the south, beyond the wood, it slowed and widened as it departed their land and headed for the sea.
The cart jolted as it joined the hard surface of the lane. Hamar mumbled on about the weather, while Jerrum still chuckled at his joke. Toryn stayed silent. The lane climbed gently to meet the bridge that would take them across the river, bringing the first houses of the village into view. The evening sun tinged their thatched roofs red, in stark contrast to the dark cloud above the trees. Wisps of smoke climbed out of chimneys as suppers were cooked for smithies, tanners and those returning from the fields. Toryn guessed Hamar’s great—great—grandfather would have seen the same view after his day working on the farm.
I'm a huge fan of fantasy, and Song of Echoes definitely caught my eye when I was browsing titles. After reading the synopsis, this novel just called to me! I had to read it.
I will admit, I was a little confused about the Three Maidens origins in the beginning, and how they were still relevant in the modern day time of the novel, but I understood more as the book went on and there was more revealed. I loved the magic and the old realm aspect of this novel, the battle scenes were really good, and the characterization was fantastic! There were so many great characters in this novel, and they were very well developed. That was definitely my favorite part of the book. It was a great mix of good writing, a good plot, and great characters driving the story.
I really enjoyed the dual perspective narrative! I was wholly invested in both Elodi's and Toryn's stories, especially as the novel goes on. The only thing I wanted was more information on Elodi's background - we don't really know much about her other than she took over the leadership of her realm after her father. However, this is the first in a series, so that may be addressed later on.
Elodi was such a great character! I really liked Toryn, don't get me wrong, but I felt like Elodi was probably my favorite in the novel. She handled herself so well in the meetings with the other leaders and with the Archon, and she articulated well to them, and to her men when they were defending the city, despite being a new leader and not knowing everything. She had her doubts about herself and everything, but she was so good!
I thought the suspense was great and my attention was held the entire time - all I wanted was answers! What really happened to Elodi's father? And Toryn's? What's up with the Archon? I am definitely interested in reading booking two! I'm invested.
The author did a fantastic job at world-building and all of the descriptions - I could really see a clear picture in my mind of what each place looked like.
One major thing was that this book never dragged on for too long. It was a good, fast pace, but not too fast where you would think, what just happened? There were no major info dumps, either, which can be a thing in the fantasy genre. Things were revealed at a nice pace throughout the novel where it felt organic and natural.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed Song of Echoes by R.E. Palmer, and I am very excited for the sequel!