Changing Destiny

Chapter one

“Come on, get her on the table!” a voice shouted as a group of women carried in another woman in their arms. One of the woman carriers moved away from the pack to push off all contents that rested on the table to the floor.

A woman gathered some different herbs from a cabinet in the small room, withdrawing some ripe red elderberry, bright yellow arnica, and a little of yarrow. She pulled out a mortar and pestle and began grinding each ingredient individually in the bowl until they were fine powders. Adding a little of water, she turned each into a paste. The woman handed each paste to a different person except the yarrow mixture that she carried over to the injured woman herself. In her cupped hand, she took some of the yarrow and placed it into the wound that the dying woman conceived this eve in battle. The elderberry was then placed on top of the yarrow in the same manner. As for the arnica, small amounts were put into the woman’s mouth where she was given water to get it down. Sweat beaded off of the injured woman’s body. In her frailty, fever took its hold on her quickly.

After each herb was applied, the group of women placed their hands over the dying and began chanting an unknown language that not many people knew anymore. A small green light emerged from under their hands as they kept chanting, eyes closed in concentration. Minutes passed before they finally withdrew their hands and looked down at the now sleeping woman. One of the elder women grabbed a cloth and cleaned away the left over herbs that were still remaining as well as the perspiration on her face. They all sighed with relief when they saw that the wound was healed.

Days went by before the slumbering woman finally opened her eyes to see that she had been placed in a bed. The last she remembered was being struck in battle. Looking down frantically, she looked for the wound and found nothing. Falling back on the pillows, she took in a deep breath before releasing. This time was too close.

Throwing aside the covers, she flung her legs over the edge and stood with every amount of energy she could muster. She had to hold her balance against the wall nearest to her. This must mean that she had to have been down for at least a week.

She left the room, walking into the run down home that the group of women and her used only for a hideout. The other women had long since left except a few of her closer friends. Two were sleeping on a torn couch and one stood at the half broken window starring out at the torn world.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it? She’s getting stronger…” Rhian placed her hand on the frame of the window to hold herself up.

“It is true. She is going to destroy us all and she doesn’t even care. She’ll bring us all into a world of never-ending darkness… and even that she has almost succeeded. The sun is only half full since our last battle…”

Years ago the world had been plush and full of life… Then on the night of a full moon Demoness Tara rose to take her supposed place as the world’s ruler, destroying everything that once had life. Now there were endless fires and explosions that could be heard throughout the night… fires that seemed to never die no matter how much they were attempted to be extinguished. The sky was always a blood red… never blue or black anymore.

“You know what needs to be done, right?” her friend turned to her with a fretful look in her eyes.

Rhian replied that she did and the sooner it could be done the better. For months now, they had gathered all the supplies that they could to send back their strongest White Spellcaster in time to take care of the Demoness before she was ever born.

“Twenty years ago… it’s hard to believe that just that short while ago all of this was beautiful,” Rhian whispered. She had been born into this world three years before Tara had taken the thrown at the age of five. Even then her eyes were black with hatred.

Rhian had done her studies on anything she could find out about Tara. Only a few rare journals had been written about their enemy. The only mentions of her parents were that of her father… no mother. At the age of six, her father had pleaded with her to end the mass destruction that she had set into place. Tara had no hesitation when she had her father brutally murdered… sending each piece of him to the far corners of the crumbling planet. Now Rhian was planning to go back to keep him from ever creating her… which meant killing him.

Rhian’s race was slowly dwindling in number. Their refugees were down to the small number of a hundred. The last battle they had against Tara and her minions had taken half of what they had.

“Let’s do this,” Rhian whispered before grabbing her belongings and heading to the open door.

Deep in the depths of one of the last sanctuaries that the white clan had left, twenty of the last spellcasters stood before a wall in a semi-circle. Each wore their ceremonial garments of white robes, their hoods being pulled down far over their faces. Rhian Dahy stood in front of the wall, taking a piece of chalk and creating a drawing of a door on the stone. She stood back to look at it before checking to make sure she had everything that she would need. She had on one of her most favorite outfits. She wore her dark brown sequined knot top that had Celtic designs woven into it. Her batik petal skirt consisted of the same color and designs. She found that these garments were easier to battle in… especially the petal skirt. On her leather belt she had a small satchel of coins, an 11 section chain whip, and her dagger looped through her belt. Her dagger was one that her father had created and left with her before he died. It was a dagger with a slotted blade that contained two inch long side guards that could be exposed or retracted with the push of a thumb button that resided on the hilt. It made the blow to her opponents lethal if she were to expose the side guards and twist it in their flesh. After doing her check, Rhian tied her red velvet cloak around her neck and pulled in the hood.

“You do know that this is more than likely a one way trip, right?” her friend Dhalila strode up to her, pulling back her hood slightly.

“Yes, my dear friend, and don’t remind me. I will be careful. Let us just hope that I succeed at this,” Rhian placed a gentle hand on her friends shoulder.

“You better… otherwise you will go through the rest of eternity failing or otherwise dying each and every time. Please… succeed. Read this when you get to the other side. It will give you details to the round about area that you will find him. Hopefully our sources are right,” the woman handed over a sealed envelope and clasped her hands over Rhian’s before she tucked it away.

Dhalila took her place at one end of the circle while Rhian took her place in the center of the circle. Once everything and everyone was in place, they began their chant in the ancient tongue. They watched as the portal opened in the lines of the chalk on the wall, revealing a bright colored light. When it finally opened, Rhian stepped forward with her hands at her sides, still hearing the chanting behind her. She took one last look behind her before stepping completely through the portal.