Spirit of Fire (Excerpt) Blog Tour

Today, I am excited to be one of the tour stops for Seventh Star Press's and Stephen Zimmer's Spirit of Fire, book three of Fires of Eden, blog tour. While I may not have read this series, I'm excited because his other series is one of my favorites.

I hope that y'all will enjoy this never before used excerpt from Spirit of Fire.
Spirit of Fire- excerpt

The Arcamon utilized its arts to a degree far beyond the collective strength of many human Sorcerers. The baleful servant of the Lord of Fire maintained a state of entrancement upon the two massive Uktena, as they were brought back to consciousness.

Dismounted from his winged steed, the Arcamon stood alone with the enormous, elongated shapes. Far to the back of him, a large force of men and Trogens watched with growing fascination, and heightening fear.

For the witnessing throng, it was a cheerless environment. The presence of the Arcamon was enough to foster a nervous energy within every warrior. Just a single, direct look from the shrouded entity was enough to send slivers of terror racing down their marrow.

The Uktena, despite the Arcamon’s rigid control over them, were creatures to be greatly feared. Instinctively, the mass of armed warriors moved back many paces at the first signs of the legendary creatures’ awakening. They condensed more tightly, seeking to draw support from one another. The agitation normally manifesting between Trogens and humans evaporated almost entirely in the throes of their shared dilemma.

The Arcamon called out in a piercing, grating voice, which resounded with the discordant tones of an angered multitude. The language was undecipherable to the gathered warriors. Even had there been the most learned monks in all the world amongst them, collectively versed in the knowledge of every known speech used throughout Ave, the strange tongue would still have remained unknown. Ancient and forgotten within the mortal realm, the language belonged to anotherrealm of existence.

Alertness crept into the eyes of the Uktena. First one, and then the other, the creatures sluggishly lifted their heads off the ground, swinging them around to gaze upon the Arcamon between them. The peculiar, crystal-like elements on their foreheads shone brightly, like diamonds receiving the sun’s tribute.

Though the observing warriors were fully armed, and capably skilled, they knew they would be helpless if the horrific creatures attacked. Swords and spears would be useless against such monstrosities. The light of day revealed the range of brilliant colors on the pair of creatures. Their glistening scales appeared to shimmer in the sunlight, refracting the light like an exquisitely jeweled array, nearly hypnotic to all who beheld the sight.

The Uktena dwarfed the Arcamon, but made no threatening moves towards the dark, hooded being. To all eyes, the Uktena appeared to be under a deep charm, continuing to stare placidly without regard for the surrounding multitude.

Again, the Arcamon spoke loudly in the ancient, otherworldly language. The massive Uktena heads lowered, as they turned their attentions upon a dead body laid out a few paces before the Arcamon. It was a large, muscular humanoid with a gray hide. The creature had a concave face, with a stout, outward-jutting chin.

It was an Unguhur corpse, culled from the blood drenched site of battle where the cave-dwellers had struck such an unexpected blow upon the Avanorans. Slowly, the Uktena brought their heads closer, converging in the space just above the still body.

The corpse provided the one piece of information that the Uktena needed for bringing the devastation that the Arcamon intended to unfurl within the lower caverns. Their forked tongues flicked out, deriving the essence of the Unguhur scent from the air around the corpse. Gradually, the distinct sensations taken from the roof of their mouths was fixedly ingrained within their minds. Finished with their serpentine assessment,the Uktena lifted their heads from the Unguhur corpse.

The Arcamon issued some final words in the ancient tongue to the Uktena. The words, augmented by the Arcamon’s powers, conveyed a pure communication to the Uktena’s minds, without need for translation. They compelled absolute obedience to the Arcamon’s desires, binding the massive creatures to the infernal being’s will.

Swerving away from the Arcamon, the beasts angled their great heads towards the lake waters. Flat upon the ground, the skin of their bellies grazed a furrow in the loam as they propelled their extended bulk forward, slithering towards the water’s edge.

The two giant creatures moved out from the shoreline, heading towards deeper waters. Their heads disappeared below the surface as they began their descent, pulling the rest of their bodies after until no further sign remained, other than the ripples and rolling undulations of the water’s surface.



The Arcamon strode back to where his nightmarish steed awaited. Seizing the reins and swiftly mounting it, the Arcamon prompted the creature to return to the sky. Black leathery wings flapped powerfully, wafting a nauseating, sulphurous stench over the nearest of the warriors.

The Arcamon took up a circling pattern over the lake’s edge, gliding periodically over the mass of men, Trogens, and Gigans below. Even a few Atagar were now sprinkled amid the ranks, having returned from final scouting missions on behalf of the Arcamon.

After a few cycles, the Arcamon brought its steed lower, wings spread and holding steady as the air currents buoyed it. When the steed was drifting just above tree level, the Arcamon removed the great ebon sword sheathed at his side. There was no glint to its umber surface. Rather, the blade gave the impression that it absorbed light into its impenetrably black surface.

As the Arcamon held the black sword aloft, a strange series of markings, like glyphs, rose in a line running down the center of the blade. Each marking looked to be rendered with miniature rivulets of molten lava, coursing vibrantly along the contours of the distinctive shapes.

More than a few of the men standing below found themselves mopping sweating brows, in the ensuing wave of heat filling the surrounding air following the withdrawal of the blade. Trogens’ mouths began to gape, revealing their elongated canines as they reacted to the thick, choking air with gasping breaths. The brawny chests of the Gigans began heaving noticeably, as the massive creatures also found the act of breathing a laborious effort.


All eyes were raised, staring towards the shadowy form gliding over them, a malefic corruption of the daytime sky. The runic inscriptions on the blade flared brightly, before settling into a steady glow. The thickness in the air dissipated, and the breathing of all the warriors returned to normal, fresh, crisp air flooding back into their lungs.

“Onward! Destroy those who would seek to destroy us. Give no quarter! Carry the victory on behalf of He who brings order to this broken world!” the Arcamon shrieked in the Gallean tongue, addressing the humans first. Without hesitation, the shrouded rider repeated the exhortation in the languages of the Trogens, Atagar, and Gigans.

All who beheld the display were greatly amazed at the ease with which the Arcamon could shift fluently between such vastly different languages. The Arcamon spoke their tongues with perfect articulation and inflection, as if a native speaker.

Each and every being felt a numbing dread pierce them at the mention of the Arcamon’s own Master, and many were not certain that the rider was referring to the Unifier. Nevertheless, the terror-ridden feeling passed quickly, and all were relieved they were moving back into physical action.

A loud roar ignited amongst the warriors, a few moments after the exhortations. The cries continued to erupt with vigor from the ranks, as they channeled their frayed nerves and fears, girding themselves for impending battle.

The air was soon filled with the clinking of metal as the warriors picked up weapons and shields, and adjusted armor. The cacophony sounded sweet and harmonious to the ears of the Arcamon. Like a tidal wave rushing towards a fragile, coastal village, the hordes of Avanoran warriors and their inhuman allies surged into motion. Striding swiftly, they flowed into the treeline.

Some warriors fanned outward, while the small band of Atagar scouts, a few guiding bounding Licanthers, ranged farther ahead of the vanguard. Maneuvering deftly amid the trees, they sought out any possible ambushes. While they were capable enough for such a task, the Atagar were not the only eyes looking out for the onrushing masses.

The Arcamon swept through the sky upon the hell-spawned steed, tracking the force’s progress underneath the forest canopy. The shrouded entity waved the death-black sword overhead, loosing otherworldly cries and spurring the force onward with diabolic fervor.


So, what did y'all think of the excerpt from Spirit of Fire? Pretty awesome, right. I absolutely love the artwork for this book and the shadowing in them.