Heroes are often unwilling. Some refuse to be called heroes. But when you’re a child of prophecy, blessed with abilities beyond your own comprehension, can you turn down your destiny? Not when "Fate Rides Wicked." This saying is not just a philosophy of his race, but the story of Tych’s life, as fate forces him to fulfill his destiny. The proof of prophecy, Tych is thrust into a role he didn’t want, to free the continent of Li from the grasps of a terrible evil.
With the help of Lendril, a warrior and the love of his life, and a loyal group of followers, Prince Tych must unite a land divided by evil, hate, and prejudice. Prophecy requires him to lead the united land against Rangdor, a powerful escapee from hell. He finds himself not only fighting his lack of desire to see it through, but also the hatred and prejudice of humans towards his race, the endarils. Challenged by Rangdor’s minions at every turn, Tych has to overcome the intrigue and divisions of the land to save even those that hate him. With help from the enchanted races and enlightened humans, Tych marches towards his goal. The question is: can you really succeed at being a hero when you don’t want to be one?
Large dark clouds rolled by overhead and the rich scent of imminent rain filled the air. From the hill where they stood lightning could be seen crashing among the trees. Never in the confines of the valley, with its natural shelter, had such a display been witnessed by the warriors. The pure might of it startled them so badly that they failed to think of finding protection. Though the fury of it merely warned of the destruction to come, the bright blue rents in front of a falling sun dazzled every creature that watched with them.
The sky finally grew so dark that they realized the implications. Like a deep, blinding night, a shroud threatened to challenge their lives. With all suddenness, a brisk, foul wind blasted down from the north, buffeting their cloaks.
Tych braced against the force and yelled to be heard by Lendril. "It looks as if our three days of sun are about to be wiped out! We must find shelter!"
Lendril leaned into the gale as a crack of thunder followed the splitting of a tree. "The hills have been void of caves for miles!" she yelled. Pelting rain began falling, whipped by the wind. "We should head for the forest there, to the south of us!"
"In any case we should leave the top of this hill! We’ll look for shelter on our way south!" Tych stepped into the bushes on their right and Lendril went with him.
For three days they had traveled east, after circling the valley. The decision had been made to look for work in the Kingdom of Lake, the most northeast on the continent. It sported the largest infantry of all of them and its politics attracted a lot of free armies that were looking to serve one disenfranchised lord or another. Their journey ended up as one boring day followed by a repeat.
As they crashed down the hill for the valley below, branches pulled at their armor and cloaks. Several times one of them slipped in the rapidly increasing mud and reached for one of the sparse, short trees that dotted an area around the forest. Sometimes it failed to stay planted and the desperate endaril would slide several more feet.
Thus, when they reached the bottom, they resembled mud-monsters. Fortunately, a troll sitting nearby sat oblivious to their arrival because of the storm’s noise and the cold earth, which hid their heat from his vision. Tych did see him, sitting on a fallen tree, eating the remains of a hapless deer. Lendril reached for her axe but Tych restrained her. Hoping the rain would go slow in cleaning off the mud, he quietly began to circle around the creature to get behind it. Lendril unshouldered her crossbow and removed a bolt until only the metal tip hid in the leather case.
In a moment Tych stood behind the unsuspecting creature and slid a dagger out of his belt. Lightning lit the clearing and the troll’s eyes opened wide in surprise at seeing Lendril. Then his head fell with a mucky thump. They moved rapidly to ensure the troll would stay dead, for they have a habit to rebuild themselves, even if decapitated. Already the body thrashed in the mud, trying to stand up. With her axe, Lendril cleaved the skull of the regenerating monster. Over and over again she chopped until the body stopped. Tych had removed the fingers, arms and legs of the body to prevent their usage. Without a word, they cleaned their weapons on the troll’s cloak and charged onward across the valley, the trees growing thicker and the storm getting more dangerous with every step.
The slick surface slowed them, but in a matter of minutes the edge of the forest rose before them. Suddenly, a deep rumbling filled the air. They knew instantly that the sound was not thunder. Panic hitting them, they picked up the pace. A few feet from the edge of the trees and safety from the new threat, Tych’s scar tore and he fell, screaming.
Lendril turned to help him but Tych yelled, "No, reach the trees and climb one. I’ll be alright."
She kept coming and reached for him. They could only see for a foot in the rain and as she reached for him, she failed to notice the wall of mud that knocked down some nearby trees. One of the cracks forced her to look up, but the waist high flow of earth flowed over Tych and knocked her down. They both used what muscles still worked to swim up, but the limits to their endurance approached rapidly.
