ILINA LIGHTKEEPER
A forlorn bookworm eking out her existence on the desolate rim of Arlam. As the last living descendant of the royal herald who watched the high king sail away, Ilina keeps the lighthouse built to guide that same king back. But dire visions darken her endless vigil. After seven centuries of silence, doubt has eroded devotion. And when a brash barbarian named Hugh washes up on her doorstep with a sacred artifact he has no business possessing, Ilina’s faith will face its greatest crisis.
Strands of auburn hair snaked across her eyes—tickling her creased brow and high cheekbones, twisting down her dainty nose, thin lips, and strong chin. She raised a hand to brush them back. Though only twenty-two, Ilina had learned by bitter experience to anticipate that moment in every conversation when her interlocutor, taken aback by her gravity, would politely disengage.
HUGH CONRAD
A hard-boiled adventurer from the mythical land of Earth. Hugh braved a portal between worlds to rescue a friend, not a nation, but the people of Arlam expect more from the heir of their ancient high king. As Hugh confronts a vicious alien realm on the brink of civil war, his cynical wisdom will be pushed to the absolute limit. Can strength of will outweigh incomprehension? Hugh may not live long enough to find out.
She stared at his brown, calf-length coat, torn and tattered and stained with algae. At his black boots crisscrossed with strings. At the scabbards strapped to his back—one sprouting a kind of sculpted wedge, the other suspiciously empty. At his brown hat, dimpled on top and circled by a narrow brim. She considered his visage: clean-shaven, weather-beaten, marred on the left by a broad scar that swept from cheekbone to chin. It was a man’s face: ineffectively inscrutable. Inscrutable because it shed emotion like a tern’s plumage shed water. Ineffective because such barriers would never fool her again.
RHINYA
A Kramish servant girl assigned to the Lady Ilina Lightkeeper, a visiting foreign dignitary. Formerly an urchin in the mean streets of Harnaral, Rhinya lives by her wits and enjoys uncovering others’ secrets. But the Lightkeeper’s secrets endanger everyone around her. Will Rhinya’s wits alone be enough to keep her alive?
No one noticed as she slid from her cot and padded to the door. They were all lost in their own inner prisons, but Rhinya was free. Hers was the purview of the sprite, the cat, the breeze through the keyhole. She came and went as she pleased.
JARLIN
A chieftain of the Jaar, nomadic natives of Utter North. In the spring of the year 781, Jarlin is hunting the white elk when he makes first contact with a fearsome stranger who will alter the fate of Arlam. Haunted by the massacre of his clan and pressed into service by a madman, Jarlin is forced to hang his fate on the cryptic words of an infamous witch: Ilina, Lady of Dead Talk.
Jarlin pulled on his oar as if all the unclean spirits of Hoc roiled in Seaskater’s wake. Sweat poured down his brow, freezing in twisted rivulets. His breath steamed out like a wolrum’s salty blast. His parka’s hairy pall didn’t hide him from the gale’s fury. Its mane lay plastered against his skin. He wished he could pull it on backwards, shield his face from the driving sleet and screaming gusts, sink into warm, enticing blindness.
RIKARD HARNISH
As the heir of Highlord Hansel, Rikard was born and bred for the rule of Kramarack, the last free nation of Arlam. But in uncertain times, leadership demands compromises from which even the boldest may shrink. Though none would accuse Rikard of timidity—least of all Ilina Lightkeeper, whom he seeks to wed—his greatest trials lie ahead. For another ruler has arrived. And in the end, only one of them may reign.
He stood like a knight overlooking the field of battle: arms crossed, head held high, long cloak billowing out to the side like a wayward banner. Immovable he was—feet planted firmly apart, sharp gaze fixed on the far distance. The same distance, Ilina realized with mild surprise, into which she had been so inconsiderately staring. He’s haughty, she mused, in love with his own not-inconsiderable majesty. But then his eyes flicked back to meet hers and their liveliness—their sheer playfulness—brought her breath up short.
FORKBEARD
A powerful mage and esteemed advisor to Rikard Harnish. Forkbeard’s interpretation of recent alarming events will prove integral to Hugh Conrad’s seat-of-the-pants expedition. But even wizards can make mistakes, and Ilina suspects Forkbeard of making a catastrophic one.
His smile seemed to well up from somewhere deep within. It emerged slowly, like a deer from the forest—spreading from his mouth to his cheeks to the golden irises of his bright, bright eyes. Eyes that might’ve held a thousand deadly secrets or a thousand priceless jokes. Eyes so hard they seemed to dissect her soul, yet so lively as to teeter on the brink of laughter. Ilina sat for what seemed an eternity, held captive by those kindly, terrifying eyes.
HENRY CONRAD
The former high king of all Arlam, Henry deserted his adoptive subjects to return to the cold reception of his estranged son on Earth. Though the elder Conrad’s legendary exploits transformed the face of a world, he himself has been left broken and usurped by a seemingly-invincible enemy. In desperation he turns to the heir who hates him. But will this intervention spark a war he cannot win?
Henry Conrad looked very, very old—like a man struggling just to remain alive. His hands shook as they clutched his cane. Before him, the half-open door was a portal to nothing. “Hugh,” he whispered, eyes fixed outside, “I … need your help.”
SILVUS RELISHAM
Just an ordinary sailor on the Rampart Errant, a galleon in Admiral Norvald’s armada. He’s nobody important. Totally innocuous. Definitely not an existential threat. I mean, just look at him.
A wind from the sea swept over him then, plastering his loose white uniform against his body, whipping strands of lank hair free of his bandana. The tall two-decker frigate directly ahead of him, first to weigh anchor, had unfurled its sails in preparation to beat windward through the jetties and into open water. Geometric calculations tumbled through Silvus’ mind.
A Sea Sought in Song — Intro
A Sea Sought in Song — Locations
Fan Art
Arlam Online 