The Son of Hades - Born of Fire

Mackenzie Chapter 1

Mackenzie kept his gaze upon the long muddy road, trying his best to flee on his white mare with the rain descending heavily. His golden medallion of a Phoenix Bird imprinted reflected against the glistening moon as he rode on with a brown leather bag strapped to his horse.

"Come on girl," he shouted, his voice calm and smooth, "we're almost there."

He notices the sign that said, "Welcome to Avara," carved boldly on a large piece of battered wood. As he kept on riding, he heard a loud hissing sound coming toward him with the crisp leaves breaking as the creatures slithered behind. He looked on both sides, staring at the murky forest where the light of the moon hadn't dared to enter. He saw large lengthy scaly tales trailing near his sides. He looked forward once again and in a sudden his horse stopped, it stood firm in its track turning into solid stone. Mackenzie was thrown forward, taking off the horse's neck with his large shoulder as he plummeted to the ground hitting his mouth upon the dirt. Blood oozed from his chin and lips as he groaned quietly. He stood up with his eyes closed shut, drawing his silver arming sword with an Owl's head as its pommel.

"Open your eyes miscreant," said a wretched voice, it spoke in the old language. A language Mackenzie knew too well. "You dare trespassed into our lands."

"I was passing nearby when I stumbled upon your beautiful garden," Mackenzie replied in their tongue. "I was only admiring the lush flowers."

"Liar," she shouted. "All you men lie and steal. Tell me intruder, how do you explain the dozens of Hubspur plants missing?"

"Ah... now I remember, your garden did look a bit cramped so I decided to give it a trim. No need to thank me."

"Now you'll die thief, for your insolent," she vowed.

He turned one ear toward them listening as their tales were dragging along in the mud. He could tell they were more than one of them. "Tell me Gorgon, how many are you?"

"There were three of us until you showed up and butchered one of my sister's," she confessed.

"I can smell her on you," her younger sister replied, hissing as she moved closer toward his left. "Your hands are stained with my sister's blood."

"I was just about to leave your garden when your sister attacked me," he replied. "I explained to her I wasn't her enemy but she didn't care."

"We are creatures of beauty and peace," said the older sister. "For centuries we've stayed away from human affairs. Now my kind shall wage war against the filths that stole our lands and drove us to live in the woods like animals."

"I'm sorry for what happened to your people in the past," Mackenzie replied. "No one deserves to be chased out of their homes. I hope you can accept my apology."

"I will, when you die," the creature replied bitterly before swinging its hefty tale through the air.

Mackenzie having heard the whooshing sound of her tale coming toward him, ducked and rolled toward his far right. The tale smashed against the horse's statue, turning it into a heap of rubble. Mackenzie now on his knees, felt the rough thick skin pressing against his left elbow. He immediately got to his feet taking his sword, holding it firmly in his hands, raises it high into the air before striking toward the creature's formidable tale with all his might. As the sword drew nearer toward its mark, he heard a whooshing sound coming toward him from behind. The tale struck him against his back, tossing him to the left side of the forest. He began rolling aimlessly down a small slope, hitting his head and body on each tree that stood.

"I hate my life," he confessed to himself, groaning in pain. He took his time getting up, wiping away the thick black mud from off his face with blood dripping down his temple unto his brown leather jerkin. He stared toward the ground heading back up the hill toward the road. When he got to the top he saw both creatures with their snake-like heads separated from their green and yellow serpentine body. He stared toward them wondering what had happened. He walked pass them picking back up his sword, sheathing it as he headed toward the remains of his horse. He grabs the brown leather bag from the mud, strapping it around his waist.