Burial of hearts the black widow's malice

  Burial

  of Hearts

  The Black Widow’s Malice

  N . A Parnham

  Copyright © 2012 Neil Parnham

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be

  reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  www.burialofhearts.com

  Cover design by www.graphiccrypt.com

  ISBN: 9781622090891

  DEDICATION

  To my family, my friends and my one true love, forever my heart shall be yours.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Prologue

  I lay silent, my thoughts drifting carelessly through the midnight hour; fog loomed upon the hilltop whilst seemingly dancing with the stars of distant dreams. Dark toned whispers governed forth upon my mind, as if a potent lure for an evil demure. The hope that held deep within now set aside in a lost redemption, the vows we took worthless, the love stolen, my soul broken.

  “I Avis Aldebourne, do take thee Alexander Speir, to be my lawfully wedded husband”.

  These words muttered playfully through my mind, like shards of glass ripping at my silken flesh; my veins striking through as though enraged by the chariots of war.

  How could my love be taken from me? Whom be it that has authority to do an act such as this?

  In the distance I heard the laughing of what seemed like a hundred twisted storms, brisk and yet as such also calm; as if two voices had woven as one. I lifted my head in faith of seeing what had brought my demise; a voice rose from the laughing to speak to me:

  “Come forth, your destiny awaits”.

  I raised up trembling from the fear and slowly walked through the moon lit grass, hearing the eerie silence, all but of the sounds of the waking of the insects in my tread.

  The voice rose yet again.

  “Your love, as though a picture, heard as a thousand words of bliss; Alexander shall be yours no more until the six amulets are gathered”.

  I ask in a thoughtful, yet disheartened voice.

  “What are these amulets you speak of and how shall I obtain them?”.

  “Avis Aldebourne, the amulets you must seek are behind the six gates of Malkaretz, together brought in absolute unity, the final baronial gate shall be opened”.

  “‘ The Amulet of Hecate’

  ‘The Amulet of Forneus’

  ‘The Amulet of Ajatar’

  ‘The Amulet of Nephthys’

  ‘The Amulet of Hecatonchires’

  ‘The Amulet of Ragana’”.

  The voice vanished from my presence like the concluding twinkling of sundown; I gathered my long-winded thoughts, my rage ready to erupt, none shall take away from me, I vaguely thought to myself, my eyes glimpsing around, as though waiting for another sign of sorts.

  Rising up after what seemed like days, I made my way back home; the seemingly dazed workers were lining the streets ready for the annual beer festival, the drunken buffoons wolf whistling at all the local ladies, myself included as if we were slabs of meat, readily slaughtered by their obnoxious egos. I sat myself down in a quiet corner of town to avoid any unwanted attention. I was uncertain, unhappy and unprepared, but I did know one thing, I would not be beaten.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Morning Avis”. Doris said in a forceful manner.

  “Wake up, you have been asleep for a whole day, people are getting worried”.

  I opened my eyes unwillingly to see the local inn lady Mrs. Doris Sandleton (a shabbily dressed lady, with a strange affinity to always have exotic feathers intertwined into her long golden, brown hair) presenting me with a selection of morning delicacies; curdled egg and fish fin soup, along with a roughly ripped off piece of stale bread.

  “Thank you Doris what a welcome… delight?”. I said as I was deciding which was more nauseating, the food, or her ash laden breath.

  She left the room after surveying my clothes scattered across the floor and giving me an undeniable disapproving look. My room was fairly large compared to the others in the inn, only because Doris and I were such good friends; but as with all the rooms, there was the ever present smell of yeast rising from her husband’s experimental brewing disasters downstairs. The walls around me were plastered with aged paintings of local town events, some partially hanging off the wall, much like the smoke ridden wallpaper.

  I passed a glance down upon the soup, noting whether it was at all edible to my palate; after a brief delay I plucked up the courage to take an adequately sized mouthful. To my surprise it was relatively pleasant; the egg cut through the sharp fish flavours, as would a swordsman slice at his enemy; after a few more mouthfuls I decided it was time to get up, after all, I did not want to be labelled a common slob, although it would be a rather generous label compared to others I have been given.

  Rising up I pushed my feet firmly against the oakwood flooring, hearing the ever present creaking of the almost-antique floor boards. I had a rather amusing habit of hopping around the room to hear the different creaking sounds, I even used to make simple melodies doing this somewhat childish act. I gathered the garments that I had slung so gracefully around the room, in my haste to sleep the evening before, placing them quite particularly folded upon my bed.

  After attending to my clothing, I dashed over to the hallway; looking around it was a precarious area, with much of the flooring missing in full disregard for the tenant’s wellbeing. There hung various pieces of artwork that Doris had gathered on her outings, each with a different style, or personality if you will; the area seemed to radiate an honest yearning to become similar to one of the higher class homes, but it never reached the full potential it had.

  I strolled over to the ever vacant bathroom facilities, I was unsure as to where the other tenants washed, or if they did at all, but to me this room was a glorious vessel of tranquillity, dedicated to my every need as a woman.

  Entering the bathroom, I flashed my focus to assure myself it was clear of any individual(s). To my far left was a stain glass window, allowing a small amount of light in, yet not permitting any unwanted attention from the street below; a rose petal designed curtain surrounded the bath, as so to provide further privacy, if it at all was needed. Gliding the curtain gently aback, I was startled, Snitzel the inns local pet cat and I use the word pet loosely, was gracefully cleaning herself; her fur a ginger colouration, soft and with a tail perked up as though a champion’s sword.

  Our eyes centred and just as fast as I had opened the curtain, she proclaimed herself to me with her distinguished purring, jumping to the broad rim of the iron cast bath, to ensure she received her adored attention. After a few moments of affection, I lifted and placed her gently back into the hallway so I could wash.

  Closing the door behind me, I pushed the bolt back so none other could enter as I prepared myself for the strenuous day ahead. We (the tenants) had the luxury of having a large fire brazing below, which at all times heate
d the water for bathing, but as such also provided adequate warmth for the inn, in the winter months.

  Today I wished to relax, so grasping a handful of foreign sourced sea salts, I sprinkled them gently around the base of the bath and allowed the heated water to course around; the salts turned the water a mixed lulled shade of pink and lilac. After a brief time, I stopped the hot water from flowing, allowing the release of the cold water, testing every few moments until the temperature was to my personal satisfaction.

  I stepped into the bath, my body now embraced by the soothing touch of the water, I let myself become as one; closing my eyes, encountering the night before as though it was placed before me now; my heart sank abruptly, as if weighted by mountain tops rupturing the ocean bed.

  I managed to reclaim ownership of my usually hardened thoughts and held onto the copper coated jug, filling it forcefully with water and cleansing my long hair, finding a twig or two intertwined throughout.

  A roughly timed hour passed. As the water cooled I could hear Snitzel clawing tirelessly at the door, obviously no one today had captured a thought to feed her; outside the local market was in full force, the traders offering everything you could envision, fresh fish, vegetables, clothing of every class and the local source for magick related items ‘The Ecliptorel Stall’.

  I unwillingly raised myself from the bath; the frozen touch from the air which swept from under the door quickly snapped me out of my tranquil state. Draining the water, I thoroughly dried myself using the provided cotton towels; then placing on my robe I opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. Walking over to my room, I almost lost my balance as Snitzel fought me for further affection.

  Steadily poising myself, I opened my wardrobe. It was time to decide upon my general attire for today; as such this would usually be an envisioned nightmare, but troubles leapt through my mind, like arrows would shoot from castle tops, so I quickly chose a dreary, grey coloured, full length dress, with faded gold embroidered décor; I adjusted the tightness of the dress with one of my fabric belts, which also helped to keep the cold from seeping through.

  Alexander had just recently given me a necklace for my birthday celebrations, so I saw it fitting that I wore this; in essence, this fragile gift gave me a connection with him, no matter where he may be.

  Makeup was quite uncalled for today, so gracefully placing Snitzel in my arms, I left my room making my way through the dimly lit hallway, down the stairs, to see Doris from afar flirting with her fancy man Mr Fenbuck, as he liked to be called. He was a large, muscular blacksmith with a fiery temper, but in all honesty underneath he was a tender man, as long as you did not cross him you would be perfectly safe.

  I continued through the various rooms, watching my step as I made my way past a selection of barrelled ales and wine for the ladies, eventually reaching the pantry. I placed my hands within a spare barrel, reserved for the salting of fish; reaching in, I lifted out a small silver- finned fish and hastily took it to the kitchen for a little preparation.

  The fish had already had the guts removed, so thankfully I did not have to undertake that unsavoury task. Retrieving a knife from the sharpening block, I sliced through the fish, completely removing the oily skin, as Snitzel was not too keen on it. After the skin was fully removed, I flaked the fish into a small wooden bowl and placed it on the stone floor, avoiding Snitzel as she came running up from behind me, eager to eat.

  Wondering out of the kitchen I came upon Doris, whom was now stood alone.

  “Doris, can we talk? It is very important”.

  We chose to be seated in the private dining quarters; as with the kitchen, it had a stone floor; large tables governed this room, covered in lace cloths and a single candle holder on each of the four tables. Moving my eyes around the room, it was not the best maintained in the building, webs spread by spiders were skewed in almost all directions, some of which seemed to defy the laws of physics; red drapes hung, loop holed around large, metal nails were the specialty feature.

  Speaking to Doris, I told her of the occurrence the night before, all that had happened to me and all that had been spoken of. She was a wise lady, though very loose worded, which more often than not, caused her unnecessary regrets; so I felt she would be able to help me per se. Doris turned to me and spoke in a voice of unbiased sympathy.

  “Avis, Alexander will always be a great man to you and to many others, though do you not think he was a little loose ended in his mysterious magickal workings?”.

  “And what do you mean by loose ended?”. I said promptly, in a forceful tone.

  “Well… he, would not always bring closure darling; he was adventurous and would take risks, you know like me with the men; but as far as I could make out from talking to him, he was searching for the amulets that you just spoke of”.

  “Perhaps you are right; I will need to find out more information on these amulets”.

  “I heard the librarium has knowledge on the amulets, I would go with you, but urgent matters call, my eyebrows are looking rather sluggish, if I do say so myself; I do not want to put off the men now do I?”.

  These words causing me a sudden rush of thought, I decided the librarium would be an appropriate place to start my search for answers. I rose up, thanking Doris for her kind advice and giving her a rationed hug before I left.

  CHAPTER 2

  My stride quickening, I ventured out through the cobblestone street. This area ‘Miltontree Lane’ was somewhat of a devil’s dream; the houses and shops seemed only to be held up by the will of the owners, some even tilted at jagged, unsightly angles; windows were somewhat of a rare commodity here, as the local children have become quite accustomed to rock- throwing instead of the usual games, played in more desirable locations of town. The rat infestation was as such, an amusement to myself, they had grown so large from strewn leftovers that they had reversed the role of nature; rats chasing cats, I ask you, God’s law has been forgotten here.

  At the top of our street was the poor man’s water fountain, surrounded at all times by a varied selection of drunken individuals, full time comedians if you will. Following the meandering path to the right, I quickly came to ‘The Malkaretz Librarium’; a gracious building, built from the finest custom-made marble blocks, with sculptures of old, lovingly maintained; the building itself rose up in a mere five years, two hundred and thirty four days and sixteen hours; as noted by the age-old historian whom plagued the townsfolk with unwanted facts.

  Step by step I came closer towards the entrance. Guards stood stern at the doors in case any troublesome acts were to occur. After entering, I came to the registration table; it was large and made of walnut. A gold pen was the sole commodity. A small dwarf-like man leant forward towards me, his eyes beady and piercing, with combed back, frizzy grey hair revealing a noticeable scar; he also suited a moustache of divine proportions, which tips curled perfectly. I wondered for a moment's sake if he could at all read my thoughts, surely not? But before I could think further he spoke to me, spitting with almost every word he gave.

  “Can I take your name please?”.

  “Avis Aldebourne”.

  “Have you used the librarium before? I presume not so”. He said in demeaning tone.

  “No, I have not”.

  “Indeed, my presumptions correct as always. Wise are my ways wicked my actions. Now if you would be as noble as to fill out this form; am I correct this time to presume you can write?”.

  Not giving an answer, I took the form, dabbing the quill in the ink as needed.

  Name: Mrs Avis Aldebourne

  Occupation: Housekeeper

  Address: The Groantrin Inn,

  Miltontree Lane, Malkarertz

  Ref ID: …..

  Pausing, I looked back up to the assistant.

  “Excuse me, what does the Ref ID refer to?”.

  “Reading is not a strong point of yours either is it Avis? Note to the right, which is opposite to the left that it says ‘for librarium use only’”.


  After correctly writing out my details upon the form, I placed it before the librarium assistant, then I swiftly walked into the large gathering area, so as to avoid any further nauseating conversation.

  To my front was the general section, covering works of fiction by countless authors. To my right, was the nonfiction section and to my left was reserved for the religious and ancient manuscripts.

  The room was large and airy, echoes followed you wherever you would decide to venture; from the smallest of pins dropped, the sound magnified for all to hear. Lit by sunlight through the magnificent chalice windows, it radiated beaming light to almost every corner. The librarium is only available during the day as not to risk the use of fire to lighten the rooms, so I hurried along to find what I came for.

  Scurrying to the left, I strolled down the long chamber, the walls of which were lined with perfected oil paintings of all the mayors of the city, which were ever to take office. The ceiling domed with large oak supports carved artistically to add to the dramatic effects placed before me. Mosaics were precisely embedded before my feet, donned in a transparent varnish, so as not to allow the artwork to walk away on the soles of the visitors.

  After a timely 400 yards, I came to where the books were stored. As I entered, a sign hung before a table, advising any person(s) present to use the provided literary books, to find the required item(s).