Epic Fantasy

The Lost Direction


This book will launch on Apr 21, 2020. Currently, only those with the link can see it. 🔒

A storm-at-sea drives a humble fisherman aground on the shores of an ancient lost civilization ruled by a minstrel priesthood. Drawn into a deadly arcane ritual, he must master the magic and music of that world to return to his faraway home. Along the way he must dodge those who would pry from his mind the secrets of that lost land for their own gain.

A compelling world-build odyssey, the narrative is composed of multiple stories-within-stories (think: "The Arabian Nights" meets "The Silmarillion"), and prominently features giant telepathic rabbits, and a talking magical potato named Tob Gobble.

The High Augur

This world is not the first. The True Count, however, is lost to the veils of time and mystery. That there were antecedent phrases in the song of history, we can be sure. And it is of these, dear listener, we speak today.

Quatria was failing. The dynamic tension which held the mysterious continent together had reached a sharp crescendo, and the wave was breaking.

It was in the late Summer of these times, when a small crew of Pentarch sailors set out on a short fishing expedition from one of the corrugated shorelines of the Five Kingdoms of Kremel. What should have been a three hour tour was waylaid by a storm-at-sea, which hurtled their vessel farther and farther off course.

The men heard the wail of sirens in the distance as the storm surged around their craft. Strange lights flashed on and off in the darkness. They were powerless to stop the inevitable drift of their vessel as it crashed about on the waves. The Cold and Dark grew louder and stronger around them, until they felt numbness overtake their cores, and were plunged into darkness.

Then the sound of ringing they heard. It was a single pure tone at first, splitting into a second note in harmony, then a triad, and then into a chorus of song unfolding. And then a rainbow appeared, warmth as of Spring, and a tingling they felt, as life flowed back into the earth of their bones, and the soil of their flesh.

Across calm turquoise waters dead ahead, a white island gleamed. And in the distance lay a palace, a temple, to which their inner compasses re-oriented themselves as though to home. The Source of the strange music beckoned them.

Blood flowed back into their veins beyond the harbor, and those sailors were beyond yet the ken of the waits, who watched tirelessly over the walls of the Temple, and in turn over all of Quatria. Up in the Pillar of Song, however, the High Augur cast a mal throw on the songboard. Three pents and a duo, seventeen, in the House of Sadness.

The program was drawn up for the morning chant. The song would reverberate out from the Pillar of Song in rounds the moment the rays of the morning sun kissed the strings of of the altar.

It was a sad song. It told of the First Age of Quatria, after the ejection of Ederron from the caldera of the Hypogeum. The first Anti-Node, after the Separation, and the rising of the mountains as Ederron was pushed out to the sea. Though its verses would not be included in the dawn chanson, for those knowledgeable in the lore, it called to mind those Quatrian ancestors who had left the continent for good, wanderers and outcasts. Some of these would go on to found the colonies of old (of which Kremel was but one of many) in the Second Age, when the Anti-Node was shifting toward Abdazon.

About the author

Canadian author of epic fantasy living in Quebec, CA. view profile

Published on February 01, 2020

80000 words

Genre: Epic Fantasy

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