Burial of hearts the black widow's malice (15 page)

Chapter 9

It was morning. I had found it very hard
to sleep that night. The picture of Camerine’s mother falling repeated on me,
each time a separate scenario was created; could there had been anything I
could of done differently to prevent it? Was it my fault because I needed to go
to the bookstore? We would not have been in that area of town if it was not for
me. Camerine was quite happily painting when I interrupted him, asking for
help. Perhaps it was not my fault, as Camerine said, his mother wanted
treatment, so they would have had to go to that area of town. If the guards had
not had been there, none of this would have happened and we would have had the
usual peaceful day. I suppose it no longer matters who is to blame, she is dead
and he is in prison awaiting his own fate.

Without a job, I struggled to find
anything today that could keep me occupied; apart from the usual tasks of
eating and cleaning. I decided I would go to the university, as Camerine had
mentioned it has a good selection of material on Hecate.

The university was one of the largest buildings
in the city, raised high, there were numerous statues placed upon the extensive
stonework. Entering through the open door that stooped down before me, the
walls were crossed with red and golden colours; a large fireplace was affront
of me, lit and producing
blistering
heat. Various pieces of furniture
lined the rooms and the hallways, some had a purpose but some were merely there
as focal points of inspiration.

The selection of books was much larger
than that Malkaretz Librarium, but as Camerine had mentioned, a large portion
of the books were like an altar unto Hecate. I spent a long time looking
through all the books that took interest to me. One of the more useful ones I
came across had information about her father:

“Tartarus, father of Hecate, is said to
have been murdered by Hecate and placed within a grand tomb outside of the city
walls. He tried his upmost to have her marry one whom she did not love”.

Fascinating, I thought. I put the book
back onto the shelving carefully, I did not wish to be the one responsible for
it collapsing under all of the weight. I looked through various other books
which seemed to drain the life out of me, though I did find one relating to
ancient vessels:

“Through history it is told that there
have been many great battles between men, wizards and witches, among many
others. The greatest of all of these was aptly named ‘The awakening’ where all
evil had crept forth into the world, causing drought, disease and death. Great
wizards sought to destroy the evil, but could not; only one chose another path,
to trap it within revered stones, resting them upon vessels, bonded by magick”.

“I will have to inspect the tomb of
Hecate’s father, Tartarus”. I said whilst my eyes drifted from side to side, my
lips perked in anxiety and thoughtfulness.

Leaving the university, I was already
close to the entrance gate of the city. Pass in hand, I was now confident I
could return, if I so wished. I walked through and past the guards, who were
preoccupied with a new game they had conceived, involving a stitched pigskin
ball, stuffed with hay; the aim of the game was to get it past the other into a
small barrel; what a mindless display of so-called
skill
, hopefully that
will never catch on.

Fog was looming low upon the fields,
making ethereal forms that swayed around, lonesome in the distant cold. I could
only make out persons close by, even the mountain where I had walked down, as
large as it was, had become indistinguishable. There was a thin unpaved trail
that led around the walls of the city, past the traders who waited eagerly for
their next sale.

The city cemetery was sited over a
bridged stream that fed the irrigation channels for the farm workers. I walked
carefully past the headstones, forbidding myself to stand upon any plot that
had been reserved for the deceased. I am not usually the type to get startled
easily, but due to the conditions, I felt an eerie feeling about the place that
crept up my spine with each hoot of an owl.

“
Here lies
Tartarus, father unto
Hecate, respected nobleman, holder of the secrets of magick, died October 3
^rd
1133, age unknown”.

I was affront of his tomb; surrounded by
pillared walls; the entrance door was finely shaped by stone masons, showing a
scene of children holding onto a draped fabric sheet rising up from a hellish
form to God-like perfection. A single wilted black rose lay at the base of the
door; the petals were becoming slowly decomposed by the reversal of nature’s
gift.

I knocked slightly upon the door, nodding
my head in disbelief after I did, routine I suppose. The wind was increasing in
strength, starting to send a chill through me. I grasped onto the handle to the
door, no key was required for this; turning, the metalwork that had sealed the
door crumbled easily. I could now see within the final resting place of
Tartarus. There was a torch rested upon the wall; holding onto the thought of
fire, as I had done in the caves close to Yilesul, I lit the torch, taking it
down with me into this long, unexplored tomb.

The steps down were treacherous,
moisture from the ground was seeping through, forming trickles of water, ending
at the bottom in a deep puddle.

Walking down to the foot of the steps,
through the meagre light of my torch, I could see a rounded expanse with two
passages into which I could walk. Upon the centre was a chair, with the remains
of a man or woman perched upon it. The hands and feet were wrapped with
rusting, spiked chains, now loose as the flesh had departed. I could see
something in one of the hands; I walked closer and kneeled down and carefully
slid out a piece of parchment that felt wet to the touch. I opened it upon my
lap and read it; squinting at times, where the ink had run, trying to keep my
eyes open from my lack of sleep.

“
Last Testament of Tartarus.

All that I am I have given to my
daughter; my last breath she is to take from me in her vicious pursuit of
power.

I write this with the last rule that I
hold, that it may join me in my tomb, if I am granted one; so that the one whom
is destined, may read it.

My power has all but been taken from me,
drawn from within and placed within the heart of a sacred gemstone. Fused as
one under moonlight, the revealing shall take place and the door shall open,
the only way for it all to cease, shall be given.

 I know it will not be long before
I am taken and I forgive her for what she is to do, for as my child I love her
deeply, but for the sake of many, she must be stopped.

I tell you this. The magick that bonds
the vessel must first be broken, this can only be done by the sacrifice of one
whom is willing; then and only then, can the power be wielded.

Yours,

Tartarus”.

I looked up, thoughts passed through my
mind; perchance it may be, that I knew how I was to rid of Hecate, or it may just
be an unfeasible coincidence.

The door slammed shut, the gust of wind
must have closed it. Walking back up to the top of the stairs, I tried to open
the door, but it did not budge, not even in the slightest;
brilliant
, I
am condemned to be in a tomb meant for someone else; maybe there is another way
out.

I had a choice to make. It was either
the left or the right passage, but which one? I peered closer, looking aback,
making sure Tartarus was not moving at all; with all the strange occurrences I
had come across in this city,
nothing
was beyond comprehension.

Both of the passages had a menacing
appearance about them; but the left one, I had decided, looked as if daylight
was reflecting upon the moistened walls; it could have just been the light from
the torch, but either way I needed a choice and this was the simplest way to
make a decision.

I stepped into the passage, ensuring my
balance with one hand and holding the torch with the other, as I walked down
the steps that were chiselled from dense rock. The damp smell in the air,
reminded me of when Doris would bring the dirty linen indoors to dry in winter
not wishing for it to freeze overnight. Reaching the bottom, I had to crouch
down, jumping off a ledge to make any headway.

Before me was an otherworldly cavern; I
stood upon a dock, the wooden boards swaying with the approaching of tides.
There was a small boat aside of the dock. It was dimly lit with an oil lantern
flickering without the brushing of air upon it. I looked further down into the
cavern, trees had managed to somehow survive here, creeping their branches over
the river, entwining amid each other.

I stepped into the boat with careful
judgement and almost falling as I did, gratefully I regained my balance, before
the tipping of fate. I picked up the oar that had been placed within the boat,
plunging it within the waters, after first removing the rope that held the boat
in place.

I made my way upriver, always looking
and listening for any menaces prowling. On a ledge close by, a group of furious
black-headed wolves had gathered, watching every movement I made through their
deadly looking eyes. Their fur stood on end and they began to snarl at me,
considering all possible ways to get to me, but unless they could swim this
would not be a problem. I continued despite of this, moving underneath the
roots of a tree which had encircled the river below.

Throughout, I avoided jagged rocks that
appeared as sharp as a predatory dagger, fallen from the roof of the cavern,
worn away by the trickling of water until no longer could they withstand.

The water’s pace now quickening, it
began to rumble, not a rumble like an earthquake, but as though someone
breathing.

The boat
flung
into the air with
a violent blow, throwing water upon me in an unimpeded stream. I gripped on as
tightly as I could; falling back down, I became soaked as a wave from behind
rose over me. Balancing myself, I looked below the water’s top. It was
spiralling, developing an unruly whirlpool. Panicking, I pushed as hard as I
could, evading from the force that drove it. Rising from the water, an obscene
creature placed itself upon the edge of my boat. I suddenly felt a colossal of
urge to escape rising through me; I kept sweeping my oar at the water,
aggressively trying to loosen the grip it had.

My arms were starting to tire from the
constant battle against the trying river. The creature had almost managed to
climb in, I stopped and turned towards it; hissing at me, it protruded a tongue
split at the centre that was able to move independently. As opportunity was
ripe, I took hold and struck with my oar, knocking it aback for a moment; but
it did not lose grip. The creature’s skin was the pedestal of unspeakable
parasites, burrowing below, they caused wounds that wept putrid puss from
within.

Although I condemned it to death within
my mind, the creature still prevailed against all the blows I gave upon it.

It was before me, crawling upon the base
of the boat. It beamed a smile, sickening to the soul, the lustrous white fangs
I had imagined, shown as rancid fragments, encrusted with disease. It swiped a
claw, almost ripping through me; help me, anyone please, I thought; just at
that moment, what I was told before, came to me.

“Uklay san heuson vareno”. I said the
words I had been taught.

I was struck, but it did no harm, I was
now protected, at least momentarily anyway; the creature had no powers, not
even ones as meagre as mine, so I struck repeatedly; getting closer, I hit as
hard as my arms would allow, knocking the creature back into the depths from
whence it came; I watched as it slowly descended down, a final closure of the
eyes cementing a fraction of calm within me.

I swiftly moved through the cavern,
often looking aback to ensure I was not being followed by any person(s) or
creature(s). A faint light was affront of me, gradually increasing as I gained
momentum, until reaching upon a tear in the rocks.

I stopped for a moment, my boat still
stirring from the force of the water. I was upon a lake, life trickled by in
disregard to my presence. I gazed around, squinting to keep the sun from
blinding my sight. There was what appeared to be a small village on the tusk of
the shore; small cottages lined up together, with a church close by.

As I got closer, I realised I knew this
place, it was the one from my dream, when I was close to Yilesul. How would I
know exactly what a place looked like when I had never been here before in my
whole life?