Fate’s eye continues to watch the Hidden Lands and the destinies of those tied to the conflict that is now in motion. Blood has been spilled and trials overcome, but dark truths are about to come to light that will once again alter the lives of those that oppose the might of Talgoth…and other forces lurking in the shadows.
Caleb Rambrant and his companions have succeeded in repelling the forces of Queen Tamara from their lands but at great sacrifice. Caleb’s father has gone to the Esterlands, into the very heart of the enemy, and Caleb will stop at nothing to join him and bring about the downfall of Talgoth and avenge the wrongs done to his countrymen. But the road will not be easy. With a mysterious assassin still on their trail and Anselem and L’iothrin now facing a new dark power, the loyalty and courage of the five companions from Tritus will be stretched to its very limits. All the while, the foreboding words of Leila continue to drive fear and doubt into their hearts…
The struggle of power kindled by the sister blades is now in motion…and Fate is watching.
WHAT TO EXPECT FROM BOOK 2:
Tides of Chaos is very much a second chapter in a three-part tale. While in Crimson Sun we were introduced to the characters and the world that they inhabit, the sequel puts them in the worst possible situation, the darkest hour before the heroes can rise up and eventually overcome.
When I originally started 
working with the overall concept for the Eyes of Fate in late 2010, most of the pivotal ideas that got me excited required a lot of set up, which is essentially what book 1 became. In other words, Tides of Chaos is where the plot really starts to take some bold turns which made it a whole lot of fun to write. As the characters begin to move into these events, the theme of the story starts to shift as well in that the previously clear line dividing the ‘good guys’ from the ‘bad guys’ begins to dissolve. By the end of the Eyes of Fate trilogy, there will no longer be a right or a wrong and some heroes will become villains and vice versa.
In Tides of Chaos, prepare to have a closer look into the Esterlands, the continent that houses both the enemy kingdom of Talgoth, and the colonies of the Sa’tir, the race of shape-shifters introduced in book 1. Expect to learn more of the secrets hinted at in Crimson Sun, such as the identity of the hooded warden, Daymon’s past, and the mysterious events after the battle of Paladar.
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER I – ON THE EDGE OF THE EARTH
This excerpt is a draft selection provided as a courtesy and may be subject to change depending on editorial input during finalization.
The wind howled with a chill ferocity against the sharp, menacing base of the mountains of the Uncharted Waste. A lone man of staggering height stood staring up at the towering obstacle before him, the rocky wall a merciless blockade to the Far Reaches on the other side. He was motionless for a while, looking this way and that as if confused and guessing which way he should go although he had been to this place countless times. He was bundled well inside of his cloak and hood but it was so ragged and dirty from travel and abuse it may as well have not been there at all. The wind caught hold of his garb and pulled away his cowl, his white hair whipping around his pale face and sunken eyes. He paid it no heed. There was no need for secrecy here in the desolate edges of the Hidden Lands. And besides, if he were to encounter anyone, his master had yet to give him further instruction and therefore he could do nothing.
He moved forward, his feet carrying him up a narrow trail into the mountain rocks. For hours he drifted silently in and out of the crude paths like a phantom, ignoring the hisses and grumbles of the faceless beasts watching him from afar. The few that dared to stalk him on his way turned back when they realized where his destination was. The man topped a hill and peered down into a hidden crater in the midst of the black rocks to see a sizable tower of pale stone, crushed and maimed with the passage of time and crumbling with age. It seemed normal enough by the sight, a mere stronghold of some long-passed age but the presence emanating from within spoke of darker things.
He descended into the gully and soon found himself in front of the steep, shattered gates on the face of the tower. Although he had passed under them too many times before, they didn’t look at all familiar until he placed his hands upon them to push them open and recognized the shrill whine the rusting hinges made. As he made his way into the darkness of the structure, the memories slowly crept back into his mind like spiders weaving fragile webs of vague familiarity.
He stood in silence in the heavy darkness until the way before him was illuminated suddenly as he conjured a hex from his mind. There was no need to bring his hands together in a hex formation but the scars in his palms burned red as the power channeled through him, granting him his wish. Through the empty courts he wandered, up winding stairs and finally into the top chamber that crowned the tower.
The roof was half gone, as he now recalled it had been before, the pillars that once upheld it strewn in rubble about his feet. The wide, circular room was barren of furnishings, save a stone platform in the center which held nothing in particular.
All at once he could feel the heavy presence of a man in the room with him. The feeling surrounded him. Passed through his body. He watched and waited in silence, his tall, looming shape swaying in the forceful wind until he heard words echoing about the walls. Slowly, they became clear.
“Sigon, you have returned.”
“I have,” the tall man said to nothing. His voice was raspy and forced, like a loud whisper. “I have returned from across the sea and bring you tidings of my task.”
The voice did not respond, waiting for him to continue.
“The queen’s campaign in the Westerlands has ended,” Sigon said. “I am witness to Talgoth’s defeat in both Avondale and Faldecia. Though there was much bloodshed, the queen was repelled in both efforts.”
A long silence hung in the air again but this time the voice replied.
“The fate of the Westerlands matters not to me, of course,” it said, echoing off of the stone walls and engulfing Sigon. “The queen and her efforts against the west were but a means to an end. Rambrant was your mission. What of him?”
“As you have predicted, master, the man Rambrant of whom you speak was indeed hiding in Avondale. Within the walls of the great city of Tritus. When the queen’s armies struck, he emerged from his hole along with that which you seek. The Hallowed Blade has revealed itself yet again. He has boarded one of the queen’s vessels and makes his way to Talgoth even now.”
“You have completed your mission well, my brother,” the voice whispered. “The hexes I bestowed upon you have made you a most formidable sage and servant. And you shall continue to be rewarded as you remain vigilant.”
The tall man lowered his head at the honoring words but had more yet to report.
“There is another matter,” he said, bowing his head lower. “I encountered not one, but two men from Tritus who bear the name of Rambrant. A son, perhaps. He and his companions were at the forefront of both battles and I believe he had correspondence with the one who carries the Hallowed. They defeated some of my fen’dara and currently remain in Paladar.”
The wind whistling through the cracks in the walls suddenly rose to a mighty bluster, driving in from the broken roof and whirling the loose rubble on the floor in a tornado. The man could feel the discontentment of his unperceivable overlord and fell to one knee in both apology and fear. His dark and weary eyes stared at the floor, waiting for the voice to reply. The gale subsided after a time and the overwhelming feeling of malice from beyond faded enough for the voice to continue.
“The sword he bares must reach Talgoth,” it said. “And any other man, Rambrant or no, that stands to hinder this must be attended to. We are moving closer to attaining that which we have sought since we came to the Hidden Lands. We must act at once. You all have new tasks to complete.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sigon saw a shape arise and he turned to see another man standing at the edge of the room. A bent and withered old man with a beard that nearly reached the floor and shrouded deeply in robes. For a moment, Sigon stared confused but the memory slowly returned to him as the man stepped into the light. Darious. They could only acknowledge one another with a nod before another appeared from above, standing on the edge of the gaping roof against the dark sky. A woman. Adesca. She dropped down amongst them and the three drew close, encircling the stone platform in the middle of the room. The dim shape of a man slowly unraveled in the center, bleak and hollow and pulsing with a sickening dark presence that shook the three where they stood.
“My brethren…” came the voice from the presence. “You have all returned to me at the beginning of the end. The Hallowed is within my grasp and you shall continue to be my eyes and ears as it completes its long journey back to me; You shall continue to be my hands that can no longer call upon the hexes that I have freely given unto you. Darious, Adesca…you are to stay by my side and await word from the woman in Talgoth,” the shape stated. Darious’ veiled head bowed low and stepped back a pace along with the woman leaving Sigon alone.
“And what would you desire of me?” he asked.
“No one aware of us can be left alive,” the voice replied. “The other Rambrant, the son you speak of, likely has obtained knowledge from the father and is aware he possesses the Hallowed. They cannot be permitted to take any further action.”
“I understand,” Sigon muttered. “What would you have me do?”
“Return to the Westerlands. Kill him.”
Sigon stepped back to join the others and the dark image before them slowly melted into the stone, the three servants falling to their knees as it vanished in a harrowing burst of penetrating malice. The room grew quiet and seemed again to be nothing more than an empty chamber of a forgotten age. The three sages stood and turned to one another, glumly exchanging looks of brotherhood with their empty eyes and wordlessly bidding farewell yet again, knowing the memory of their comrade’s faces would be soon be lost again.
Before long, Sigon was outside of the tower, once more hidden among the scorched rocks of the Great Waste and returned the tattered hood to his head. He had retained the memory of the younger Rambrant long enough to report it to his master but now with his new charge, the image burned brighter in his mind as his single objective. As he started back the way he had come, roaming in and out of the ancient beaten path among the cliffs, he uttered the words of his master under his breath over and over, making sure to keep it from slipping from his mind.
“The other Rambrant…Kill him. Kill him.”
