“Aza…” The raspy snarl had faded into a calm sadness. “I... I can’t move…”
Aza stood in the doorway, unable to force himself to turn back around. Of everything the fungus had caused, this was the most cruel. His grandpa wasn’t lucid very often, but when he was, he was forced to rediscover what had happened to him all over again.
“Aza...I... I’m sorry…”
He closed his eyes for a moment then walked back over to the old man’s bedside. “Hi grandpa.”
Gregory looked towards his left arm, gazing at the mess of rootlike tendrils it had become. He could still feel his hand somewhere in the ugly mass, but he didn’t have the strength to lift it. With his good arm he began to feel the left side of his face, tracing over the small mycelium burrowing through his skin. “I would ask how long I’ve been this way, but I don’t think I’d remember the answer.”
“It’s ok, it’s going to be oka…”
Gregory cut him off, still looking to his mangled arm. “Now maybe I’ve asked you this a thousand times, but I need you to promise me something.”
Aza knew what was coming but stayed quiet.
“Promise me that when this kills me, you’ll take whatever I got left and leave this evil place. I don’t know how...but I know if anyone could find a way out.. it would be you.”
“I promise.” Aza had done it a thousand times and he would do it a thousand more.
The two then just sat in silence, neither able to fully face the other, to face the truth of things. The tension may have lasted forever had it not been for a single, bone chilling sound.
Thump, thump, thump….
Aza froze, terror spreading over every fiber of his being.
Thump, thump, thump…
“The window.” Gregory whispered under his breath.
Aza slowly turned his head and gazed over to the wall facing the street. The window above the bed was locked up tight, but the other had its shutters knocked in. It had to have been little more than an inch, but that was all it took to reveal the light of their room to what lurked outside. Slowly Aza inched his way over to it, not daring to even take a breath. His manic eyes were dead set on the oil lamp sitting atop the cluttered desk directly under the window. Carefully, he set a cup over its lip and the light slowly died out. The only other lamp was too dim to be seen from the window; at least that’s what he hoped. His heart nearly beating out of his chest, Aza inched closer to the cracked shutter and peered out into the eerie night. The mist covered street below was now bathed in pale moonlight, the lamps glowing like specters in the fog. Against his better judgment, Aza looked straight down, fighting to see through the swirling mist. As he had feared, there was something at the door.
Thump...thump....thump. Its crooked appendages pounded against iron locks.
With the light being out it should have crept back into the darkness, yet it stayed looming over the entryway. Only the top of its stitched up cloak was visible from above, but it was enough to strike absolute terror into his very soul. Aza stayed put for what felt like an eternity, waiting for it to act. The creature stood by the doorway, feeling it, testing it, fueled by an unrelenting hunger. Then, to Aza’s relief, a noise rang out through the gloom. Sensing prey, the hunched figure slowly crawled away from the door and vanished back into the mist. No telling how many more were lurking about just out of view.
After a few more minutes had passed, Aza gave a long sigh of relief and closed the window, this time using all three deadbolts. With that done, he turned back towards his grandpa but he was already fast asleep. Unlike before, there was no disturbance as the tired boy silently crept out and returned to the lumpy couch downstairs. He kept the fire going for another hour before putting it out, and finally going to bed.
Chapter 2: Jacob’s Hallow
Ink, all around him was an inky blackness, flowing and shifting in an infinite abyss. Aza was standing at its very heart, his boots sinking into the shifting darkness. Tendrils of shadow crawled around him, tugging, pulling, trying to drag him down. Yet they were weak on their own, mere pests compared to himself. He felt a great cold, as if all the warmth of this world had been drained away. Above him was nothing, a true unyielding darkness pulling in and expelling all the shadows around him. There was something within the emptiness. One great heart at the core of it all, every heartbeat twisting and mangling the world around it. Such power...such suffocating, unyielding power. Aza felt compelled to reach out for it...it felt...soothing...calming. He began to float up out of the inky tar. His hands extended. He could almost feel it...then... he fell. The heart disappeared into eternity, the only other thing in this strange web of darkness. Or was it?
He awoke with a start, breath shallow and face covered in sweat. His pupils darted in all directions as he pulled himself up. Then, feeling like a fool, he closed his eyes and laid back down. His breathing slowed as his mind fully swung itself back to reality. He had dreamt about that place on and off for as long as he could remember. As a child he’d tried to find some meaning in it, but he had long since outgrown such a foolish idea. Instead he pulled himself up and trudged over to the stairs, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. First, he did his usual check on his grandpa, who to his relief, was fast asleep. The room was still a mess, but he couldn’t risk waking him and playing out the first half of the previous night all over again. The old man needed his rest and Aza would be back later. Content, he turned around in the cramped hallway and opened the door to his own room. It was fairly small, with a simple straw mattress taking up the far wall and a long, shallow closet on the left side. There was little floor space in between, just enough to mostly swing open the door if he kicked over some of the clothes littering the ground.
Today was a new day and the first he had off in a long time. He had made plans well in advance for Aggie’s daughter, Gretel, to watch over his granddad for the next few hours. Other than that, he had been able to plan little else but his mind was skittering with ideas. He shed his old clothes and picked what clean ones he could find from the room around him. Once dressed, he walked over to his closet and carefully pulled out a long nobleman's overcoat. At one point it had been a royal purple, with silver buttons, and ruffled frills. Today it was almost unrecognizable. The purple had faded to a near grey, the lost buttons replaced with bone, and a series of faint stitches crawled around the arms. It was shabby and a little scratchy, but it was the only thing he had left of his father and he wore it with pride
He made one final check on his grandad and turned to the stairs. Maybe he could see if Luke was free, it had been ages since they had last met up. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Head through town, stop by the market, and finish with a trip out to the farm. He began to feel energetic, ready to take on the day as he swung back down the crooked stairway. As if on cue he heard a knock at the door. Not skipping a beat, he continued on his path and, one by one, undid all the locks and latches. On the other side he found a tall, spindly woman with pale skin and frizzy hair.
“Mornin Aza.” She pushed past him and dropped a repurposed medical bag onto the couch.
“Mornin Gretel.” Aza gave a quick bow of the head. “Thanks again for doin this for me.”
She laughed. “I love me mum, but if I don’t find an excuse to get out now and again, she’ll drive me mad. Now you run along, I’ll be takin it from here.”
“You remember all the medicines, where the cups are, where…”
“What do ya take me for, a common rube? Now what part of run along wasn’t clear to ya?”
Aza thanked her one last time before being shooed out the door and onto the empty street. Even with the threat of night alleviated, only a few beggars and passerbys could be found. Most of them keeping their distance as his reputation and haunting presence were enough to deter many of them from getting closer than necessary. It wasn’t something he took pride in but had its advantages. He was able to travel unabated from the living quarters of the west end, to the Olmire Bridges that cut throug
h the middle of town. There were five in total, each one ancient and bearing scars from their many repairs or renovations. They were one of many structures that stuck out as true works of craftsmanship amongst many crooked and dilapidated buildings. Yet what truly made them notable, at least to most, was what lay beneath. Cedric's Row, home to the homeless, occupied the lower levels under the bridges and around the river. It was the only place a criminal could hide, or the very poorest could survive the night. It was a sad place no one wanted to find themselves, yet each year it seemed more joined their melancholy ranks.
Crossing over that there was the heart of the city, Gehrman's Square. Here sat the illustrious city hall, the greatest and biggest building in the whole of the village. It had been here since the town’s founding and over the years its countless additions had spread out like the arms of a great squid, twisting and ensnaring anything around it. The great clock tower at its peak cast a looming shadow over the whole area, a constant reminder of the town council's sinister presence. Around it were other old and important buildings, along with what few houses hadn’t been converted into apartments. All of these made a large ring around a circle of open space that served as the main marketplace and hub of local trade. Carts, wagons, and makeshift stalls littered the area, leaving just enough room for customers to walk through and barter. In contrast with most of the town, it was teeming with life from sunrise to sunset. The gloomy masses all out to haggle for their weekly provisions while seedier folk used the bustle to pickpocket or mug. Aza wandered his way through the grumbling crowd and over to a familiar stall. It was fairly tiny, and a little run down, but made the most of its space.
“Aza my boy, glad to see you back again!” The greasy man behind the counter smiled at him, his yellowed teeth giving a sickening contrast against his grey skin.
“I’ll have the usual.” He looked around and pulled out Shaw’s coin pouch, quickly popping out a small copper piece.
The vender bit down on the coin before tossing it under the counter. “Hazel, prep the oreni.” He quickly turned back to Aza. “Nice bag of coin ya got there, can I interest you in one of my other fine dishes?”
“I’m good, thank you.” Aza’s hand fell over the coat pocket.
“Come on, we got a special. Help a poor vender out.”
Aza looked to the signs above and produced another coin. “That’s all.”
“Thank you, thank you lad. Carryin that kinda money around here is bad news unless you're lookin to get robbed” He stopped for a moment. “Assuming you don’t use your strings on them, of course.” The vender moved his crooked arms around as if casting a spell.
Aza merely rolled his eyes. “You mean the reason I have to buy your overpriced garbage?”
He laughed. “To me a freak’s money is still money. Consider it a convenience fee.”
“You dare charge the dreaded Nightman a convenience fee?” He replied, making dark humor of the most hated lie peddled about himself.
The vender laughed. “I’ll stick with Aggie and her ilk, not that old fool and his horse crap.”
Aza replied with a faint smile and the two made small talk for a bit longer. Eventually the young man was presented with a large bag of oreni. It was a collection of thin, chopped up tentacles oozing a black slime and covered in seasonings. The bag itself was not even a bag but a fungus shaped like a large cowbell. Aza thanked the man and began plucking them out one by one, each chewy morsel bringing a smile to his weary face. He maneuvered his way through the shifting crowd all the way to the edge of the market, before abruptly being forced to stop and move to the side. The entire square suddenly began to part as two large horses slowly strutted by. Their cold, unblinking eyes on the lookout for anyone foolish enough to stray into their path. Pulled behind them was a great black carriage, bigger than any Aza had ever seem. It’s sharp edges were adorned with silver, molded into beasts of the sea. From the wood, to the wheels, to even the curtains, no expense had been spared. Under any other circumstances something such as this would be stalked and looted, with most of its silver gone by the time it passed out of the crowd. Yet not this one. No one in town was daft enough to mess with Barnabee Trask. He had been running unopposed as mayor for as long as Aza could remember and had the full force of the city council at his side. A luxury of having spent so much time in power.
He watched the carriage as it slithered through the crowd and stopped right outside the great stone steps of city hall. A large hole formed around it as the nervous crowd pushed away and made a path for their great leader. Aza had heard of Barnabee many a time but had never seen him once. Supposedly he was rarely viewed by the public, with each appearance being treated with much the same gravitas one would expect from seeing royalty. Aza laughed a bit at the thought of it, like he did at much of the town’s politics, yet he was curious. He weaved his way around the bustling mass of people over to the carriage, popping down oreni the whole way. Aza was able to get just a few glimpses of the man before being washed away by the flowing crowd. As he pushed and was pushed, the image of the mayor crept around in his mind. It wasn’t just his influence that made people fear him. The man’s skin was grey and slimy, his wide body towering over everyone around him. Most striking of all was his face. While he had only seen it for a brief moment, that evil scowl was burned into the back of his mind. He didn't have long to dwell on it, as he soon found himself drifting out of the square and into a narrow alleyway.
He didn’t recognize it but followed the beaten cobblestone up and out of the area, taking a slight detour to the North. He picked apart the empty bag until there was nothing left, licking each of his fingers for the last bits of his favorite food. Just when he was about to get back onto one of the main roads, he heard a ruckus from on of the other backways. Aza turned in all directions and peered through the gloom, searching and listening for a possible attacker. He quickly changed course and followed the sound to the next block over, a thin alleyway that ran behind a series of apartments. A boy, couldn’t have been more than 12, was pinned against a wall by someone less than a year younger than Aza himself. His hair was a dirty blond, and his clothes were expensive but beaten and covered in filth. Backing up the older boy were two grey skinned kids dressed in rags, likely from under the bridge. He approached them, his boots echoing around the narrow pass.
“What do you think you’re doin?” Aza’s voice wound around the grim crevice, giving a slight chill to the four.
The three attackers all turned to him, including the one pinning the child. “Aza, what in the Abyss are you doin up here?”
“Thomas, I should have guessed.” There was a bitter edge to Aza’s voice as rage began billowing off of him.
Tom dropped the kid and pulled a long knife from a patchwork scabbard tied to his belt. “You stay away from us, you monster.”
“I’m not the one terrorizing a child.” His voice was calm, but his anger began weaving around the alley, crawling up the walls, and skittering over the street.
The three began to shake a bit. “You and your creatures attacked us first. This kid is like you, like Anthony, like the others. I don’t know what you freaks are plannin, but we’re not gonna let you all push us around anymore! The sooner you all figure that out the better!”
Aza took a deep breath “For the final time...there is no plan. Just leave us alone.” His thoughts trailed off. “Trust me, you’d be long gone by now if there was.”
He still held his knife out, afraid of the specter only a few yards away. “You all say that, but you’re just like the monsters that come out at night. You scum think no one will notice? In fact, dad said….”
“Dad? Tell me, what garbage is Tobias spewing today?” He asked, practically spat the words. “What dark tales of intrigue and hogwash has that dotard been telling you all this week?”
Tom smiled a bit, but his hand was still visibly shaking. “Call him whatever you want, but he’s been lookin into things for a long time, investigating. He knows you’re the Nig
htman, and once the rest of the town wisens up, you won't….”
Aza began walking up to them, his low patience having already crumbled. “You think I’m the Nightman?” He pointed his hands to himself and laughed. “ You can tell your fat, drunk of a father that if he really thinks that, he can run out at night and ask him! Do the whole town a favor! If you find his head on top of city hall you’ll know it was me!”
The rage poisoning the alleyway struck like an eel, its fangs sinking deep into the four boys. Aza hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the three took off running, each one overcome by an unnatural terror. The only one left standing was the child, now leaning against the wall and quivering with fear. Aza’s gaze was kept to the three thugs. Thomas Verahaus was the son of a struggling barley farmer who had wasted his family's fortune. Yet despite their ruin, their sense of entitlement never really went away, instead festering into bitterness and cruelty. For the last several years they had fed into the rumors and myths about those with abnormalities. Aza in particular taking the brunt of it. Maybe it was to gain back power and wealth; maybe they just wanted to feel better about their own miserable lives. Aza’s eyes narrowed as he thought about all they had done, all were trying to do. He then looked down at the boy and smiled, trying to calm him down.
“It’s ok kid. They’re…” Aza jumped back as the child swung his hand, extending a luminescent blue thread. It resembled Aza’s own cords only far more volatile.
“Ahhhhhh!” The boy grabbed his singed palm tight as the thread fizzled and faded.
“I’m not going to hurt you!”
The boy looked up to him, his eyes now wild. “Get…. get back…”
Aza had no time to reply as the child bolted from the ally, still gripping his burnt hand as he ran for his life. He watched the kid run down the road and into one of the dark buildings, hopefully somewhere he would be safe. Now the supposed monster was alone, standing silently in the crooked alley. Both the thugs and their victim having fled, united in their fear of him. Aza slowly trudged back to his earlier path, his head hanging just a little bit lower. That wasn’t the first time he had tried to help someone or the first to see him as little more than a demon in disguise. Sometimes it got to him, made him wonder if despite all his good intentions if he really was something evil. The fear he exuded when he was angry didn’t help matters. It was a power he’d always had, even before the others, and yet it was like a reflex he had no control over. Like all his other abnormalities it had become even more potent as of late, more difficult to reign in. Maybe he was turning into something, or something else in this grim place was getting stronger. The spinning web of thoughts made him shudder to the very core.
The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow Page 2