Poseidon's Guide: The First Adventure // #Wattys2018

Prologue

The dark beast reached its destination, an angry shadow moving in the opalescent moonlight. The savages, silent as a night insect, jumped from the beast and scattered after their leader. No one seen them, anyone who did was killed or silenced for good with a swift removal of their tongue and fingers. El Puerto de Santa Maria, a Spanish port filled with drunks and dancers, just off the Atlantic sea, was the target of their rage.

An old man hurried through the streets, aware of the fate sneaking through the town. Chasing him was death itself, after a bounty worth more than money. The Cuban man barged with haste through the door to his house, the terracotta tiles on the roof shaking slightly at his forceful entrance. He opened another door, a bedroom lit only by the moon and a dim candle. A four poster bed with satin drapes cradled his granddaughter in the safety of its blankets, relieving the man. He awoke his granddaughter hastily.

"Quickly Angelina, wake up! I have a fun game for you..." The old man looked at his granddaughters innocent sapphire eyes, her messy brown hair and tired face looking back up at his own wrinkled face. He smiled, a lone tear escaping his eye. "You must hide, run! Make sure I can't find you, do you understand me Angelina?" He pulled his leather journal from his coat and forced it into her hands. "Don't lose this, okay my little Angel? Promise me that..."

"What's going on Papa? Where's Mama?" The girl began asking questions, but the man picked her up and hurried to the back door, placing her shoes on and securing his journal safely in her own coat. "Why must I hide Papa? It's so late Papa, I want to go to bed!"

The old man smiled at his granddaughter, observing every feature he could, painting a picture of beauty in his minds eye. "Don't ask anymore questions little Angel, you have to go now!" He hugged her tightly, not wanted to let her small body go.

"But Papa, I don't want to play..." The girl's eyes watered. "Why are you making me play?"

"You must! Keep my journal safe little Angel, study it... You will understand what happened once you're old enough, now go!" The man heard muffled footsteps from the other side of his house. He knew what fate lay beyond his doors. "Quick, go now!" He gave his granddaughter a soft shove towards the gate, and with one last sad glance, she ran.

"Akka-Toey fa lungo..." The deep and foreign voice cut through the air like a blade sharper than any other. The man swallowed hard, hoping his granddaughter had made it away. Slowly, he turned his body around to see the man. Tattoos lined the body of the Chieftain, all of them painted in dry blood. His body told a story of death. He wore bones on his legs and a loincloth. His sword held a curved blade and a bird bone hilt. But it was the other sword. "Maru ekk noma Tlaloc..." The Chieftain said as he reached for the black sword.

It's hilt was twisted black metal, the blade just as dark. With each slight movement the sky grew more restless and angry, rain and thunder slowly starting. It's hilt was embedded with an uncut, pure and glowing (yet still unexplainably dull to his eyes) beryl, a gem prettier than any other. He turned and tried to run, but the sword came closer for him to look at: through his chest. The smell of blood and the angry clash of thunder destroyed his senses. The man gave one last scan of his surroundings, making sure his granddaughter was no where to be seen. He breathed a sigh of relief, before the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt filled his body.

______

The little girl hid behind a vase, watching in horror and shock as her grandfather became impaled with a black sword wielded by a terrifying figure, absent the ability to speak English. She covered her mouth as the body, dead, dropped to the ground after the vile man pulled his sword from her grandfather. In a violent clap, thunder filled the sky and her grandfathers murderer closed his eyes, and rose his head to the sky. The girl, barely six, started to do as her Papa had commanded. She ran as far as she could from the house.

She ran as far as her little legs could take her, before stopping to rest. She cried into her hands, the vivid memory of her grandfathers death plaguing her mind. Then she felt the hard cover of her grandfathers journal in her pocket, and reached for it. The words were far to big for her to understand, but one day she would know the truth...