The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow

by Patrick Walsh

  Aza’s smile faded.

  “Oh right, how could I forget.” He laughed, causing Aza to follow in a once common display of gallows humor.

  The two went back and forth for a bit, Gregory asking about Aza’s day, and him telling a calming lie of fishing voyages and days shooting targets with Luke. It was fairly light hearted, with a few moments where Gregory would nod off for a bit, only to get his bearings and reask a few of the same questions. Yet at the very end he got quite serious.

  “Now I bet I say this a lot, but I don’t have a lotta time left. Now, I’m guessin only halfa what ya told me is true, based on all that.”

  Aza was confused, but looked down at himself for the first time all day. His clothes were torn and matted, with shavings of dust and drippings of blood dotting his overcoat. Said coat had several large tears in the sleeves and side.

  Gregory saw the pain in his grandson’s eyes, knowing what that coat meant to him. “My apologies...I’m sure someone can stitch it up for ya.”

  Aza quickly recomposed himself. “You don’t need to apologise for anything, it was just a very...long day.”

  The old man smiled. “Anyways...there anything you want to ask me about?”

  Aza was a bit taken aback. “Yes...I don’t...you don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to... but can you tell me a bit about mom?”

  The old man’s eyes fell a bit. “I eh suppose so.” He began to look very sad.

  “No! If you don’t want to its fine!” Aza held his arms out to try and calm Gregory, not wanting to upset the sick old man who had done so much for him.

  He just batted him away with his one good arm. “Nah don’t patronise me like I’m some child. It was never fair that I avoided talkin about her, especially after what happened to your dad.”

  Aza looked away, remembering that night from so long ago.

  “Eleen was the light of my life. When Dahlia died durin the birth that...that broke me, but raising Eleen...it was like a part of her was still there.” He briefly paused, choking up a bit, but recomposing himself for his grandson. “I had a quite a bit of help given I was still in the Nightwatch...she turned out sharp as a sewing needle! Maybe it was because her mother passed, she eh, became enthralled in the family history. Supposedly she looked at some papers at the library and asked around and...figured out the slaves we descend from were taken from the far north. She started wearing a lot of blue, talked non stop about the angels...tried to pick up their customs. Now as she got older, and fell in love with your dad, she grew out of mosta the things... though they still meant a lot to her.” He smiled.

  “How did they meet?” Aza was unintentionally leaning in, enraptured by what he was hearing. Some of it he knew, but this shined a little more light on things.

  “Ha! It’s how I knew she was my girl! She saw your dad back when they were kids, and kept at him until they met. Now frankly he was a little brat just like his brother, but she saw something in him an...eventually it payed off. They were happy for quite some time...then after she had you her...she just never really got better.” He trailed off again. “Now I don’t know how much you know about your dad’s side projects but...he knew there was more, so did Jr. Heh, heh that stuffy old bookkeeper hated when I called him that!”

  Aza chuckled a little and opened his mouth, but Gregory had more to say.

  “I was there you know, the night when you were born. Me an your dad had been in a big fight and I had come down to apologize. Heh, picked the perfect time I suppose.” His expression shifted to somber. “You were sick that night, practically burning…”

  Aza sprung up a bit. “What?” He had never heard this.

  “Yeah, we were at Aggie’s shop. The doc had to rush you away. Your dad an I ran off with him while Aggie stayed behind with a few others. Even at his office there was nothing we could do. We wanted to find someone else, but night had fallen so there was no getting help...but then...then Mr. De’ Vone arrived…”

  “The Undertaker?” Aza was confused, unsure whether what Gregory said was true, or even could be true.

  “Yeah, surprised us all...but I suppose it was rumored he would show up from time to time under similar circumstances. Whatever he did worked…”

  “I’ll...keep that in mind.” He suddenly got very serious, this new revelation tangling with what Han had told him about his soul. ‘Last time we talked you said that dad never stopped looking for “her”. Who were you talking about?”

  Gregory thought about it for a long time. “When your mom died, it hit the both of us hard. Your dad began to lean into her traditions himself.” Gregory laughed. “Your hair was actually long when you were young. I said it made you look like a lass, and your dad said he’d throw the book of angels at my head.”

  Aza laughed a bit, but was more interested in the question at hand. Besides, he remembered having it fairly well. In fact Gregory only cut it after...that night...when he lost dad.

  “Him and Jr were looking to find a culprit for her death, which I thought was unhealthy, crazy even...yet there was more to it than I ever thought....than he ever told me. We talked a lot the last few months before he died, he kept mentioning “her”. Some….some…”

  Aza jumped back as Gregory's eyes went wild and he took a swing at his grandson. While avoiding the blow, he fell out of the chair and onto the floor. He pulled his seat back into place and waited for the episode to subside, and after around a half hour it did. The old man fell back to sleep and Aza took his leave, not sure of what to make of this new information. He returned to the lower level to find Gretel back on the couch and sleeping, while Han had cleared off a table and moved it to the kitchen area. He now had his own notebooks, papers and trinkets cluttering the poor thing. The tired scholar appeared to be writing something down from a broken notebook into one of his own. Aza pulled over a chair and gazed over his notes, attracting Dullahan’s attention.

  “Sorry, just curious.” Aza was looking over the notes in confusion.

  Han seemed to notice. “It’s fine, you won’t be able to read it anyhow. The language is quite dead aside from some texts scattered around a few prestigious libraries.”

  Aza tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

  “Very. Can you read it?” He meant it to be smug but there was some genuine curiosity buried beneath.

  “Well yeah, that’s just the upper class writing. Like what the mayor and rich folk use. The reason I was confused was because of all the errors.” He pointed to the spiraling, twisting symbols blotting the paper.

  “What do you mean?” Han was suspicious and offended.

  Aza pointed now to specific words and phrases. “The tense is wrong, I think you meant that to spiral the other way, that tense is wrong...lotta the tenses actually...all of them that I can see.”

  Han blushed and quickly covered his papers. “Well, it is no big deal! Nothing to make a scene over.”

  “Wasn’t, I just wanted you to know.”

  Han kept an eye on him but backed off and relaxed, tucking away his papers. “My apologies, where I come from something like that is a little more serious.”

  Aza shrugged. “I don’t see it.”

  “The academy is a very cutthroat institute, everyone always trying to get a leg up on someone else or knock someone down to eliminate a threat.” He thought back to his home in Dellathorn.

  “Sounds like a hard place to make friends.”

  Han laughed. “You have no idea, especially when you have no gift for magic...and the one friend you do make…’ He trailed off as a painful memory poked up, though he didn’t let it show.

  Aza waited for him to say something but was met with silence, prompting him to speak. “So do you know anything about the fungus?” He was hopeful, but knew it was a long shot.

  “I’m afraid not. The reliance on and prominence of fungi is only prevalent in the deep south or lower islands.” He shrugged. “It falls outside my area of expertise.”

  “Oh…” Gretel had m
ade a fire and Aza was finally able to remove his coat, sighing wistfully when he once again saw the amount of damage it had taken.

  Han noticed his expression and tried to be consoling. “It’s fine, just a jacket.”

  “It was my dad’s.”

  Han opened his mouth but then closed it. He could put together that he was no longer in the picture, the same fate likely befalling his mom. Despite what he had hoped, he felt a tang of guilt that only got bigger and more rabid until he could no longer contain it. “I can sew it for you...if you have some thread.”

  Aza looked over to him. “No, it’s fine really. You don’t strike me as the sewing type.”

  Dullahan laughed and pulled off his gloves, revealing two thin, calloused hands. “I made this coat myself you know. It’s standard issue, but I had to craft it on my own due to… unique circumstances.”

  “Oh...well..sure then.” He dropped the coat directly on the table, much to Han’s annoyance, and ran over to a pile for an old sewing kit.

  Dullahan set to work while Aza went to sit back down. “Don’t do that yet, I need you to take this and poke your finger.” He held out a thin sewing needle.

  Aza took it but stared at him in confusion.

  “Oh, sorry. You will need to place it in the blue vial to your left.”

  He turned around to see a set of glass vials on the kitchen counter, along with other small containers and instruments. There was only one blue one, so he made the stick and squeezed a few drops out, causing the liquid to bubble and fizzle. “What’s this for exactly?”

  “Just a test I felt would need to be run now that I know the strange circumstances around your powers. I will tell you if anything comes of them in the morning.” He seemed to be trying to shoo Aza off to bed, but the boy wasn’t done quite yet. His eyes fell to the vials and instruments, specifically an odd looking puzzle box a little larger than his fist.

  “This some kind of fancy Paladin tool?” He picked up the box, peering over its protruding gears and other extrusions.

  Han looked up and then back down. “No, that’s just an old trinket I got for my birthday a while back.”

  While Han was trying not to show it, Aza could tell there was more to this box, though he decided to change the subject. “So has that always been a hobby?” Aza pointed down to the thread being expertly weaved around his overcoat.

  Han looked up. “My mentor always thought it would be a useful skill to have, and it is.” He thought for a moment about whether or not to keep talking. Back at the academy he couldn’t tell anyone anything without a sea of judgement or the potential of other students using it against him. Yet here things felt different, Aza and Luke may not be his oldest friends or even acquaintances...but he felt somewhat at ease around them, as strange as that was. The fact that he had saved his life pushing things even further. “Well I got quite good at it a while back...I got in some trouble after I trusted the wrong person and..let things get out of hand. I had to make all the professors and upper staff new coats and other things from very expensive and uncommon materials to keep my enrollment. When so much is on the line, you’re either the best or you become the best.” He pulled together the first hole in the coat and moved onto the next.

  “What happened?”

  “I would rather not say, just...I was a coward and it almost led to a lot of very bad things.” His eyes darkened at the memory, this time the pain was on full display.

  Aza held his arm out. “It’s fine, but can you tell me something else?”

  Han looked back up, speaking in a very matter of fact way. “Perhaps.”

  “What is that tower?” His tone was very serious as he remembered all he had seen.

  “That, like a lot of what I am compiling, is classified unless you really need to know...which reminds me.” He pulled out a different notebook. “What happened when you touched the tendril?”

  Aza told him about the dreams he had had, and that they were becoming more frequent. He told him of the dark place and the drive to find what lie at its heart. He spoke of the calming, empowering nature of the black spire and all else that grim realm offered. Then he came to the waking dream and the arm that had reached out to him. As soon as the gauntlet was mentioned Han lost hold of the needle, having pressed it far too hard in a realization of terror. Aza took notice and used the moment of weakness to finally get some answers.

  “You know who the arm belongs to don’t you?”

  Han recomposed himself and cleared his throat. He was going to clarify, but decided to run with the misunderstanding. “Yes, I had a hunch that appears to have been true, though there is more to it. I asked you to touch that thing because the tendril felt warm, which means someone is using it. That monstrosity inside was undead; someone had to go out of their way to create that thing and place it there, likely as a guardian.” He looked back down at the coat. “I have no idea what the fallout will be from killing that thing or who made it, but whoever they are...likely won’t take our investigating lightly.”

  Aza contemplate what to say next. Han said he knew who the arm belonged to, and was clearly bothered by it...but didn’t know who made the creature. He didn’t want to press the issue so opted to end things, at least for the night. “So are we going to continue with the plan?”

  Han looked back up in confusion.

  “Going to the Undertaker’s to see if he had one of the bodies?” Aza pointed in the relative direction of his shop. “That is still the plan right?”

  “Ah yes! First thing tomorrow.” Han smiled and nodded.

  Aza smiled in return and uncovered some extra pillows, cushions, and blankets to craft his guest a makeshift bed before bidding him goodnight. Han merely waved, but covertly watched him disappear up the stairs. Now alone, he began to panic. He never expected the gauntlet to really be here, let alone a working tower! His mind was racing, he had to get out of this town...but there was still so much he could learn to bolster his findings. Now that he knew people could read his writing it was only a matter of time before he was exposed and this whole operation put into jeopardy...though he may have to tell them anyways. He hopped up and swirled the vial of blood, mixing it with more liquids and finally a golden powder. The test wasn't meant for what he was using it for, but should give a rough estimate, nothing to...to… Han dropped the vial when he saw the result...it was far worse than he could have ever imagined...

  Chapter 9: The Undertaker’s Den

  Wind. There had never been wind in the void. It was pulling and weaving the shadows into the great orb at its heart...maybe there had always been some winding breeze and he just hadn’t noticed. He felt so much more aware this time, as if in every other dream he had been in some kind of trance. Aza. He gazed up at the beating heart of the inky abyss, it was calling to him...it always had been but...he hadn’t been able to hear it... until the tower. That was when he saw them. There were many other faces, other bodies floating and swirling in the darkness. Some he recognised...those that were like him, that had gifts. All of them drawn to this great evil in the dead of the night, all of them desiring it more than anything else in creation. Yet despite them all, Aza felt as if a million eyes were now focused on him. The attention of the void trained on the one person to truly make contact with it. His hand burned from where he had touched the tower. Aza. He felt the familiar pull, the overwhelming desire to reach out for the heart...but now... he was afraid of who or what might lie within. It was this indecision that allowed him to snap back to his senses, and realise that they weren’t alone here. Impossible to see before, the shades and the shadows shifted to reveal someone staring down at them all from high above. A giant silhouette with long arms and hair like the legs of a crab. It was searching for someone…

  Aza awoke abruptly to find Gretel shaking his arm.

  “It’s near noon lad!” She was already up and dressed for the day while Aza lay slovenly within his tattered blankets, only half awake.

  “Sorry, I’ll...get up.” The tired you
ng man rubbed the sleep from his eyes and watched her exit his cramped bedroom. He put on a fresh set of clothes and made his way back downstairs, nearly tripping over Han who was still fast asleep. Food flew out of the cupboards as he made a simple but filling breakfast, while Gretel had returned to the living room. Aza noticed that the piles had shifted.

  “Are you looking for something?” He asked in between bites of buttered bread and dried octopus.

  “Nah, just sorting some of this mess to pass the time.” She was skimming a pile of old tax documents. “Where did all this even come from?”

  “Some of it was my parents, some from Gregory, and a little from his daughter.” Aza shrugged, not thinking much of it.

  Gretel moved another box. “You ever visit Cedric's Row, see any old friends of your real family?”

  “No.” It was solid and firm, but he realised he should tread a little lighter. “Sides, mom and dad were the only ones down there I really hung around. They love dad for what he did, but Tobias has stomped out any reverence they might have had for me.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have said “original” or eh….” She trailed off, deciding not to even try and salvage the question.“I forgot to mention, Clara told me that ye would have to find other help for the rest of the week given what happened the night before last. The whole of the main village is still in shambles.” She nearly dropped a particularly heavy box. “I assume that means I have work for the next day or two.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure how long this whole investigation, or whatever you wanna call it, is gonna last. Now that Shaw fired me, I have a lot more free time than I used to.” He finished his simple meal and leaned back, still reeling from the loss of his main source of income. Though if they could get the Nightwatch up and running it might not matter.

  “That old crawdad fired ya!” Gretel was genuinely taken aback. “What far?”

  “I don’t want to go into it.”

  The frizzy haired woman saw the look in his spectral eyes and dropped the subject, as well as yet another heavier than expected box. Papers, cogs, and a few time worn music boxes tumbled out alongside a dust cloud of wood shavings. As she hastily tried to cram everything back in, something at the bottom caught her eye. “What do we have here?”