Burial of hearts the black widow's malice (8 page)

He was gaining speed, getting
ever closer to me. I shouted trying to get the attention of anyone, but no one
heard me. He was upon me, his face fuelled by hate, he tried to grasp at me but
he missed. Again he swiped, ripping at the edges of my clothing; I turned,
holding onto the thought of escape that felt so far away; he tripped, landing
head first into the ground below in a rather squeamish exhibition. I continued
running, as he tried to regain poise. I did not know where I was, but all I
wanted was to escape. I ran as far as my legs could take me, becoming breathless
I slowed eventually collapsing to my knees in exhaustion. I had never been so
scared; I went out to find love and instead I found hatred. Sadness pounded out
at my vulnerabilities, I cried as like a thousand hearts broken, lowering my
head in defeat.

The world around me closed in, my
senses shrouded in a silent mystery. My shoulders slumped aback, seeing the
world through the droplet of a tear. I laid my hands upon the ground wishing
that my roots left in my life would rot away giving me a chance for a new
beginning.

The twisting of trees brought me
from my glum composure. Raising up my head all but the slightest, I could see
the trees unwinding delicately, revealing an opening amongst them. I stood up,
taking cautious steps forward, my face dampened by the revealing of my pain.

“
The Gate
”. I yelled, in a
sudden rush of enthusiasm.

No longer with due care I ran
towards the gate that towered above me. It looked as though silver, strong and
glimmering in the exquisiteness it held. Between the silver frame blackness
held tight, not permitting any form of light within. I was urging myself
closer, admiring the stone work that arched above. Grasping the handle I swung
it open, taking one last glimpse behind me and then I passed through.

Chapter 5

It seemed like afternoon, the sky
was an unusual shade of pink, soft looking clouds occasionally passed by
floating in whichever way the breeze would take them; free to roam the world
until their burden became too heavy.

The moon enormous in the skyline,
you could see the debris shining around it, lit by the glow of the sun. The
stars were clearly visible, some more than others even though it was daytime.

I was atop of a baron mountain;
from where I was stood it seemed like a walk down that would last the rest of
my days, but most likely and I hope, that is merely an overstatement.

Looking down, I could see a large
city in the distance, smoke gushed from the chimneys of many homes. I walked
around for a short while, trying to decide upon the best direction. There were
a few possible paths, but most seemed to lead me to a hasty conclusion.

I took a moment to catch my
breath. I was thankful to be here, even though I did not know where here was;
but at the very least I was away from whosoever was attacking me.

There was a sweeping slope to the
side of the mountain; this was the way I had decided was less dangerous than
the others. A few moments on the trek I had to be steady on my feet, but
compared to the sheer drops that lay in wait on the other paths, this was a
much more of a desirable way down.

Reaching the foot of the
mountain, I looked back up; it did not seem as monstrous as it did before. In
front of me there was row after row of farms, the sides of which had small ditches
where water flowed for irrigation. Each row had a different variety of plants
growing lusciously; but they all had something very distinct in common, they
were very vivid, a lot more so than the land I had become accustomed to at
Malkaretz, or even Yilesul.

The harvest had begun, there were
large carts pulled by horses, laid about, slowly being filled. Women were
gathering all the fruit and vegetables in wooden baskets, and the men lifted
them up. The ground was impeccable, rarely could I see a single bad crop, nor
the sight of any ghastly weeds.

I strode by the working men and
women, some whistling repetitive tunes as they earned their coin for the day.
With a nod of the head, the workers acknowledged my existence, wishing me a
prosperous day.

It was a fifteen minute walk
through all the farmland; there must have been at least a hundred eager workers
gathering the city food, ready to preserve it for the winter months.

Coming to the end of the farms,
the city walls looked down upon me; guards loosely kept watch for any unruly
behaviour from people near or far. It looked as though the only way into the
city was through the main gates, which by default were guarded by heavily
armoured men.

Every person, man or woman,
showed the guards a document of citizenship in order to enter into this city;
luckily for me a group of young louts had decided to embroil themselves into a
scuffle, drawing the attention of the guards and giving me the opportunity I
needed to sneak my way behind the city walls.

There was a large stone tablet
just after entering the city, upon it were words chiselled out competently by a
stonemason.

“Welcome to Rartonvie”. It said
upon the tablet.

Now I know the name, what a
useful
insight.

There
were several buildings built in strikingly hefty proportions. The Council of
Rartonvie was right before me; the outside of this building was built of white
stone, tainted by the soft touch of black. The city emblem was situated above
the entrance to this building, it showed a mountain (presumably the one I had
just walked down) as well as a woman with the body of three; that must be the
person Zinmbe showed me in her book.

There were a variety of different
individuals going about their daily business; some tall, some small, witches,
wizards and I even saw a few of the Panotti; whom I had  thought were a
creation of the imagination, but
clearly
now I had been proven wrong.

Undecided on where to go, I paced
over to a notice board which was tilted downwards at a sharp angle. Divided
into two, one half reserved for messages and the other a map of the city,
showing popular shops and landmarks for tourists to visit. The main centre of
the city was a small walk away from the entrance and this is where most of the
shops were drawn out to be.

Upon the noticeboard board were a
handful of announcements, most of them advertising
menial
jobs; a room
to rent, a wanted sign for a rogue sorcerer, but the notice that stood out the
most, was one advertising a lavish event, a tournament of magick and valour, at
the city stadium. Upon the notices parchment read:

“
We invite you to the fifth
annual event ‘The Rartonvie mystic brawl’ in order to enter, you must have at
least ten years of experience in your field of magick, as well as an entry fee
of a hundred coin.

The tournament
shall consist of ten rounds, the victor of which shall be crowned ‘the
principality of magick’. To enter you shall be required to visit Garmontus at
the glass makers shop.

Yours
expectantly.

Hecate”.

Taking a few of the notices, I made
my way through the streets, crossing paths with fire breathers, stilt walkers
and jugglers who wowed the crowds that had gathered around them; I quickly
found my way through the narrow streets to the centre of the city.

Central to this area was a small
place for people to sit down and rest. There were trees and flowers bedded
about the area.

Seating myself, I had decided to
relax for a second as I took in the view of this new city. The shops were
something of a mix up of materials and shapes; it appeared as if whatever the
builder had on hand they had built with; a worthy example was the
slaughterhouse. It had a standard looking shop front, the usual butchered meats
covered in salt and surrounded by fresh rosemary, but above the ground floor
there were a multitude of different wooden planks, stone bricks and even
pigskin, all jumbled together to form the outer shell of the building; an
architect’s nightmare I would add, if perhaps I could see into their thoughts.

Frustratingly, just as I was
becoming completely relaxed the seat I was upon began to shake from side to
side. Disregarding it as shoddy workmanship I tried to return to the relaxed
sensation I had felt just moments before; but again it was not to be. Lifting
itself up with me sat upon it, the seat tilted forward forcing me to either
stand up, or fall.

“
Sorry
, must dash, my
shift is over, I do not work unpaid; I have already had a tiresome day and I
need to rest
my
legs”.

With that, it and the other seats
ran off into the distance. Standing there for a moment, with my mouth a tad
open, I gawped in shock, blinking to make sure I was not sleeping at all.

“Perhaps I
can
be
surprised?
”.
I said to myself, as I backed away
slowly.

Turning away, I slipped my hand
into my woven pocket; looking for the room to rent notice I had taken, I
managed to slide my fingers into damp sludge. The good aspect was, the room was
in this area,
the
bad… it was above the slaughterhouse
that I had been looking at. Avis Aldebourne, journeyed from far away to be
slaughtered from below; perhaps that will be what they put on my tombstone.

I walked over clasping my teeth
together; with one half of me thinking this is unwise and the other half
thinking this is unwise but you need a place to stay. I chose to submit to the
latter thought.

Opening the door of the
slaughterhouse, a small bell rang, allowing the owner to know someone had
entered.

“Hello, is anyone there?
”.

With a few thumps of drawers and
a
smash
of a door, a stocky man came out to greet me. His hair, greasy,
forced down upon his forehead; stubble grew widely upon his face, leading
downwards to his chest, where it had opted to curl up, transforming it into a
rug like texture. He wore a torn white apron, with blood sprayed upon it, fresh
from his latest killing. He brought with him the stench of overused chamber
pots, of which I believe he was not too aware, due to his obviously inadequate
cleansing routine.

“
Yes?
What do you want?
”.
He said to me rather crudely, touching upon my flesh with
his dirty, beady eyes.

“I… saw the advert for a room on
the notice board?
”.

“
Right
and so what do you
want
woman?
”.

“Well it would be nice to
actually view it and if it is to
my
satisfaction, I will take it; I will
pay up front
of course
”.

“Do not come here with demands
woman
,
I am Fredrom, you should learn that name; anyway, the room is not to rent. I do
not wish for someone of your kind in my home; now get out you
trollop
”.

“I beg your pardon; if that is
how you speak to women, no wonder you are here alone; a big ego for a small… ”.

“I
dare
you, say it
woman
”.

“No, I am not going to lower
myself down to your level, I have plenty of coin, but none for your services, I
will go now,
man
”.

“
Wait,
coin… you say? If
you could pay tenfold the usual rate I will let you stay; what do you say?
”.

“I say I can and I would, but
perhaps you should grovel a little; if you want the coin that is? And of course
to please
my
ego”.

“Well… ok then, I am
sorry
for being so harsh with you, now will you take the room?
”.

“Perhaps you could be a little
more convincing? How about saying ‘Please my gracious queen, join me in my
abode, I am but your loyal,
dumbfounded
servant’”.

“
No way
”.

“Very well then, I shall take my
business elsewhere”.

“No, wait; ok if I must. Please my
gracious queen, join me in my abode, I am but your loyal,
dumbfounded
servant”. He said in a somewhat irritated tone, whilst looking around the room,
to avoid eye contact.

“Much better Fredrom, keep that
up and you shall be wedded in
no
time. Now here is a thousand coin, I
assume this will more than cover the fees?
”.

“
Certainly
, let me show
you to your room”.

Following Fredrom, we went
through the back of the shop; the walls were filthy, covered in both blood and
dirt; the inners of his slaughtered animals were thrown within buckets, placed
under the hacked metal tables. We walked up a set of stairs, past a fair number
of the storage rooms, avoiding piled up boxes of salt and hazardous brushes
stretched out across the hallway.

“I hope it will serve you well
my
lady
… ”.

Upon entering my room, I would
have found a home for my items, but due to what had ensued, I only had a few
left; which
did not
include the dagger my father had given to me. My
room was airy; a few objects were placed about my room, a single bed, the
quilts of which were a murky brown colour; stained and with burns throughout.
There was a wardrobe for my clothing; well I was certain that would not get
used, unless of course I decided I wanted to walk around exposed, ready in
waiting for all whom dare to see. Behind the door was an aptly sized table,
with a selection of books thrown about.