The Birth of a Naga Part 1

For Mark, this was truly the worst day of his life.
The 16 year old boy had just been a victim of domestic violence which resulted a bloody nose, one or two cracked ribs, an alarming number of bruises about his person and worst of all, both of his legs broken.

His family had just fallen apart completely; his mother had just ran off with another man for ‘a better life’, his father and brother had fallen into very bad habits, resulting them being kicked out of the gypsy troupe that they travelled with for most of their lives.
All of these events happened at a ‘car park’ at the border of Sherwood Forest, where Mark’s father and brother took their anger and frustration out on him before finally driving off and leaving Mark a battered and bleeding wreck in the forest.

Pain shot up and down his body as Mark crawled his way along the forest floor, his breath labouring raggedly in his chest with the effort and from the cold night air. He pressed on, determined to find help and medical attention until he came across a small hillock. At that point Mark had but spent all of his strength.

“No….! I have to….find….” he gasped.

He tried to grasp at the ground to pull himself along, but his arms wouldn’t obey. With an agonised groan Mark rolled onto his back and gazed at the clear night sky.
It was truly a beautiful night for anyone, but for Mark it might be the last thing he’ll see in his life. He struggled to keep his eyes open for fear if he closed them he’ll never wake up. Unfortunately the darkness had started to creep into his vision. With taste of his own blood on his tongue and numbness slowly spreading from his ruined legs upwards, Mark uttered the only coherent word he can muster,

“Why….?”

Then just as he was about to close his eyes, Mark suddenly heard voices.

“There mistress! Over there!” the first voice hissed.

“He’s still alive.” the other voice said, “Melas, prepare the healing potions and my cauldron for when I return.”

There was a sound of footsteps; one running into the forest and the other moving towards him. His vision at this point was blurry but Mark can tell that someone was standing over him.

“Please…..help….me….” Mark managed.

The figure knelt down and examined the young man. Due to the lack of a full moon and blurry vision due to pain, Mark couldn’t see who it was. But what did caught his attention was the figures’ eyes that glowed deep pink.

“Ah, I’m not too late,” said the figure, its voice belonging to a woman, “but I must act fast.”

She reached for something on her and produced a very small flask. She unscrewed the top, carefully grasped the back of Mark’s head and pressed the top of the flask to his dry lips.

“Drink this, my boy,” the woman whispered, “it’ll keep you going for a bit.”

Mark let the liquid enter his mouth and with some effort swallowed it. He coughed at the taste of it; it tasted like mint, tea leaves, oregano and basil that have been stewed raw.

The effect it offered was almost immediate as Mark felt the pain lessen somewhat. Mark then felt something wrap itself around his legs and his body, pinning his arms at his sides.

“Wha…..” he began, then he felt drowsy from drinking whatever the woman offered him.
“Who…..are you….?”

The last thing Mark heard before he blacked out was the womans' somewhat cryptic reply, “The guide to your destiny, my boy.”


When Mark came round a short while later, he found himself in a place that can be easily found in a fantasy film.
He was in a room that was ten feet tall and eighteen feet wide and had an animal skin ‘curtain’ as a door. On one side of the room stood what appeared to be a very large cupboard with the doors ripped off and packed with jars and vials full of unknown items. On the other side of the room on a long shelf full of pots containing herbs and mushrooms.
Mark looked down and saw he was in what appeared to be a makeshift bed with smoothed out animal skins acting as blankets. It didn’t take him long to realise that he was clad only in his boxers shorts.

“Where….am I?” he said eventually, “And why am I still alive?”

A thought lit up in his head and he pulled the ‘blanket’ off him. He grimaced at what he saw; his torso was still covered in bruises and his legs were an unhealthy red. He moved them slightly, but then stopped himself as he gasped from the sharp pain that followed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” came a voice from somewhere.

Mark jumped with fright and grimaced from the sudden movement. He looked around and found a cat sitting in the centre of the room. The cat was twice the size of a domestic cat, had pure white fur and large bright green glowing eyes. Mark felt unnerved by its appearance, there was something unearthly about this cat.

“Did you….just talk?” said Mark nervously.

The cat nodded as it ‘replied’, “Yes I did, sunshine!”

“Who or what are you?” asked Mark.

The cat scratched itself before it answered, “My name’s Melas and I’m the familiar of my mistress whose home you’re currently in.”

Mark clutched at his head as he commented, “Is this a dream or am I going mad?”

“Neither, this is very much real, my boy.” said a voice from outside.
Mark again jumped the voice, but this time he recognised it.

“It’s you!” he gasped, “The one who brought me here. Who are you and show yourself!”

The ‘door’ parted and an imposing figure walked in. It was a pale skinned woman who looked like she was in her mid to late forties, but in reality she was a lot older.
The clothes she wore were tattered and worn; a light brown coat with patches at the elbows, a camo green top that exposed her midriff that featured an amethyst crystal in place of her navel, her dark brown trousers were held up by a piece of faded blue rope and her shoes looked like they were made from various animal skins.
She wore a wide brimmed black hat with snake skin banding and a ‘veil’ made of spider webs at the back of it with one or two actual spiders.
Her dark brown hair comprised of thick dreadlocks that reached to her knees. Her eyes were the same as the ones Mark saw earlier; dark pink that seemed to glow and with slit pupils. There was also what appeared to be pale black tattoo around her eyes that ended with four straggly lines down to her cheeks.
In her right hand she clasped a dark grey wooden staff with a dark purple crystal of unknown origin fitted on top.  

Mark’s eyes widened with what he’d just seen. ‘I think that’s the cat’s mistress….and the landlord of this place…’ he thought.

The woman tilted her head to one side. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she chimed, “Well I hope not, ‘cause he’s got a human tongue already. I should know ‘cause I gave it to him!”

Melas glanced at the woman as he replied, “I’ve done nothing of the sort mistress! I think he’s not accustomed to meeting a real practitioner of witchcraft.”

“Witch….craft?” echoed Mark with disbelief.

“Melas, check on my cauldron whilst I see to this young man.” said the woman.

Melas nodded and trotted out of the room. Mark watched the cat go and then turned his attention to the strange woman, a little scared with what going to happen next.

“Are you really a….witch?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yes I am, my boy,” said the woman, “but don’t worry, I won’t turn you into a toad or anything, I don’t the ingredients to do that….yet.”

Despite this, Mark swallowed and asked “Who are you?”

“I’m known by a lot of colourful names,” said the witch, “Umbra Regina, the Baroness of the Woods, the Hoodoo Princess, most commonly the Sherwood Witch, but my real name is Sabine. Pray, what’s your name, my boy?”

“Mark….my name is Mark.” said the young man eventually. He opened his mouth to say something, but then one of Sabine’s dreadlocks moved towards him as if it has a life of its own and placed itself under Mark’s chin.

“I know you have a lot of questions and I have a lot of answers,” she stated, “first of all, you’re in my home in the middle of the forest. Secondly, when I found you I gave you a bit of my home made elixir to keep you alive for me to get you back here and heal you as best as I could. But, there wasn't much I could do for your legs I’m afraid.”

Mark looked at his legs with disbelief and then back at Sabine. “Does that mean….I won’t be able to walk again?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so Mark,” said Sabine bluntly, “but that’s not the worst of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Mark in alarm.

Another one of Sabine’s dreadlocks snaked towards Mark and the two dreadlocks wound underneath Mark’s armpits, carefully lifted him off the bed so his feet didn't touch the floor and carried him towards Sabine. As this was happening, Sabine picked a jet black mushroom from one of the pots and ate it.

“I’ll show you.” said the witch, “But I warn you, it’ll change your life forever.”

Sabine walked out of the room with Mark in tow into the main chamber. It was a large room with an enormous cauldron in the centre with a small fire underneath it. All around the room was random collection of bones, skulls, jars containing what appeared to be internal organs, animal skins and various trinkets. Melas saw Sabine arrive and jumped onto a shelf in attention.

“The cauldron’s ready mistress and the boys’ clothes are in the small pot at the back in simmering water.” he reported.

Sabine nodded in gratitude. “Thanks Melas. You’re excused until I call you.”

Melas darted off into the room where Mark was. One of Sabine’s dreadlocks extended towards a chair and brought it towards the cauldron. She then lowered Mark on to the chair and released him.
Despite the heat from the fire, Mark shivered from the lack of clothing. Sabine noticed this, picked up a deer skin rug and draped it around Mark’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” He whispered as he brought the makeshift blanket tightly around himself.

Sabine nodded and gazed into the inside of her cauldron. It was full of a bubbling dark red liquid with a sickly sweet smell. The witch picked up a small wooden spoon from the side, scooped a spoonful of the evil looking liquid and tasted it. She glanced upwards in thought as she swallowed. ‘Hmmm….could of done with a bit more magpie blood, but it’ll do!’ She replaced the spoon and turned to face Mark.  

“Now, I took the liberty of taking a strand of your hair to see into your family’s future,” she announced, “and it’s not good at all.”

She raised her hand and the red water rose into the air and took on the appearance of a large oval shaped mirror. The ‘glass’ portion of it glowed and showed a dark haired woman sipping a large glass of red wine, a tired and vacant expression on her face. Next to her was a tanned man with slicked black hair, a cigar in his mouth and wearing a snazzy and colourful suit. It was apparent that the man was having a good time and the woman clearly wasn’t. Mark gasped with the shock of recognition.

“Mum?” he managed, “Is that her? She looks….what has happened to her?”

Sabine shushed him and waved her fingers over the ‘mirror’. The picture shrank to one corner make way for another scene. This one showed a close-cropped and unshaven man in a drab grey outfit and sitting in a small solitary room with a bunk bed, a sink and a lavatory.
Before Mark can say anything the picture again shrank into a corner to make way for one more scene. This time it show a young man in his twenties slumped in a corner of a room with his head lolled to one side and his arms slack at his sides.

“M-my family…” Mark breathed, “What’s going on?”

“You know that your mother ran off with another man for a better life?” inquired Sabine. When Mark nodded in response, she continued, “That is her future. Living with a man who promises her the high life, but finding nothing but empty words and hollow promises, basically a trophy wife for him to show off.”

The witch then pointed at the man in grey.

“That is your father’s future. Within a few days he’ll be arrested and charged for aggravated assault and robbery. All those crimes just to find a short cut to where he was before. In the end, he’ll be spending about 12 to 15 years behind bars.”

Her finger then pointed at the young man slumped in the corner.

“This unfortunate soul is your brother. Come tomorrow night he’ll be found in his room at the local motel, dead from a drug overdose. He’ll receive a funeral at the local cemetery in Nottingham, albeit a very quiet one of that.”

Mark absorbed the news, appalled and horrified beyond disbelief. He shook his head as if trying to deny everything he saw. He turned to Sabine, a pleading look in his eyes.
“Is this….real?” he faltered, “Is this really…..my family’s future?”

Sabine nodded sadly, her voice steeped with sympathy. “Yes Mark, it is.....and I’m really sorry.”

Mark turned to the three figures in the ‘mirror’, stared at them for a bit and then hung his head, tears flowing from his eyes.
As of now, Mark was well and truly alone in the world.