The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow

by Patrick Walsh

  Aggie stood by the back wall chanting as the rings on the floor blazed with fire. The powders were fading away while the spell drew closer to completion, but it wasn’t fast enough. She kept going, hoping beyond hope some miracle would let her send it away, some fluke in the magic. Nothing came. The Nightman strode into the room, past the circles, and ran her through with his icy blade. Her frail body was hoisted into the air as the rings of magic faded and went out. This was the end. This was their last shot. In her final moments, pessimism washed over her. Aza, Luke, her own son were likely dead. Gregory and the stranger were gone, the latter of which likely wouldn’t make it through the night. Yet despite it all she had hope, some blind, stupid sliver of hope. Gretel was still standing, Jack and his brothers, her countless other connections. Maybe even one of the boys made it. With the last of the strength she looked the Nightman right in his blazing eye, sure the witch could see through it.

  She smiled. “Rot in the Abyss...ya sea cow.” With those final words the last of her breath left her.

  The Nightman swung his blade to the side, sending the body flying into the wall. He spun around and pulled the piece of paper from the middle of the circles. It was folded into his pocket as he walked back out into the ballroom. He snatched up the lantern and raised it to the sky. All around the property wights began pouring out. As he arrived back in the yard, only a small group remained, the rest all heading back underground. On his orders, the ship began bombarding the house with cannon fire. Explosions and flame ripped through the ruined building, as what was left of it came crashing down in a sea of ash. Once there was nothing left to destroy, the massive vessel turned around and began crawling back out to sea.

  Even as the fire smoldered and churned, a ring of wights remained around it, waiting for anyone to emerge. They skulked up and down the property until the wee hours of morning before being forced to retreat as the sun rose over the horizon. More time passed as the rubble smoldered out into nothing, just cracked pillars and splinters of wood. Hansel was the first to emerge from a hatch in the ground. Aza had pulled himself from the broken table and shaken Hansel into moving again. The wine cellar hatch was just off from the ballroom, and they made it down as the first of the explosions happened. Aza just collapsed while Hansel remained vigilant until the night’s end, scythe at the ready. Now here he stood on the pile of ash that was once his home, where his father had died. His mom lay buried somewhere in the mess, having met a similar fate. As he stood silent, and took it all in, Aza crawled up and looked around. It was gone. Everything was gone.

  They turned their attention to the overridden road that led out here. There were five people running up it. A woman with pink hair, her worst fears dancing in her mind as she saw the rubble. Three brothers, each one mortified at what they saw ahead of them. The tallest had a small girl clinging to his back, goggles obscuring her eyes but her regret visible all the same. It took some time, but Aza and Hansel were able to get the group’s attention. All of them met at the edge of what was once a wall to the house.

  “Where’s Luke!?” Jack was shaking, his eyes darting all around as if his brother were hiding.

  The twins looked to Aza, their faces pleading that he wouldn’t tell them what they had already guessed.

  He gave only a blank stare in return. “Luke is dead.”

  “What…” The girl on Jack’s back began shaking.

  “I told ya we shouldn’t have brought her!” Desmond pulled her off his brother's back as she began to cry.

  Jack just looked confused. He couldn’t believe it, something they had discussed all night....the reason they were here. Yet faced with it...the whole thing didn’t feel possible. “No... he can’t be.”

  “The Nightman cut him in half, killed Aggie too.” He spoke plainly and without emotion, his mind far from anyone around him.

  “Mom is dead…” Gretel faced her brother.

  He didn’t speak, the solemn look on his face saying everything.

  “Are they...the...the bodies, still in there.” Hesmond pointed to the rubble, choking on his words.

  Hansel nodded and strode over to his sister, who cried on his shoulder. Tears of his own slipping down as he held her tight.

  Aza just stared on with a vacant look in his eyes and began to walk, past the siblings and out to the road.

  “Hey! Where in the Abyss do you think you’re going!?” Desmond turned to him, enraged. Blame for Aza at dragging his brother into all of this, yet also aimed at himself for enabling it for so long.

  “Me?” He turned around and leaned back on his heels. “Well you see I had an epiphany last night. This was all a stupid waste of time.” He laughed a bit at the cosmic joke of it all. “This town was never worth saving and we were never heroes. I got Luke killed, Arthur got mom and Dad killed, and so on back down the line. Oh, it’s funny really…” Defeat and melancholy oozed from every syllable.

  “Funny?” Jack turned around. “You gone soft in the head?”

  Aza shrugged. “Maybe.” He then turned back around and continued walking. “Goodbye and sorry for causing so much trouble.”

  Gretel and her brother parted. “Where in the blazes are ya goin? This ain’t over!”

  “Actually, it is.” He called back. “We lost...never had a chance. It was stupid and selfish of us to ever try, and I’m off to give the people what they actually want.” With those words he vanished into the trees, leaving the six in silence say for the cries of Mable.

  Hesmond patted his sister on the back, and held her close, while Jack and Desmond began wading around the rubble in search of their brother’s body. Neither knew what to tell their parents or or even how to. Gretel and Hansel began circling and exchanging words, each one trying to figure out what to do next. Would the witch take the gauntlet and run? Would she wipe them out to eliminate the witnesses? Neither even knew fully what was going on as Aggie had only spoken bits and pieces. All parties were without hope, not even the faintest clue of where to go next.

  “Aww, why all the long faces?”

  Everyone suddenly turned to one of the burnt out supports. Sitting atop of it was the grinning undertaker, acting as if he couldn't see all the destruction around him. The group wondered how and why he was here, but Desmond was the first to notice something. He looked younger. Not by a lot, but many of the deep wrinkles had smoothed out considerably.

  “The way I see it you’re dead even. A farmer, a shopkeeper and a grandfather for a lighthouse keeper, a graveyard lurker, and a corrupt mayor.”

  “So, you did shoot him!” Desmond exclaimed; his eyes manic.

  “He was tresspassin! Point is you lot could be worse off. Better off too, but worse, nonetheless.

  Gretel glared up at him. “You come here just to mock us you old bastard?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. I more just came to see if my bet would pay off now that I have about a day left.”

  “What?” she was trying to think of what he could be rambling about.

  “Nuthin that concerns you crazy kids, don’t you worry.” He laughed. “You have much bigger things on the way.”

  While the group at the manor argued and questioned back and forth, Aza walked the length of the town. He felt calm, very, very calm. Not enraged, not sad, just done with the hopeless situation he had dug himself into. He passed by shops, by homes, by people dashing out of his path. The weary boy even stopped to take a look at his owned burnt down home. There was a crew there, picking through the rubble. Had they found Gregory? It probably didn’t matter. The old man didn’t want a fancy funeral anyways, even joked he wanted to be tossed into the sea. Aza thought back to their talks, a small smile shifting by for but a moment. Then he began walking again, further and further west. Eventually he emerged into the fields, and then into mining territory. There were farmers out, each one raising their weapons or giving Aza a hateful glare. He was on Tobias’ turf now.

  His home became visible in the distance. It was an old jailhouse from the early days
of the town. Not built from wood but from stone, looking more like a small tower or piece of a castle then anything they had now. It had been fixed up, sank, fixed again, then sunk again, this time sitting at a slant. This was where Tobius had found himself when his money began to run dry and hard choices had to be made to save what was left. Fittingly enough it sat right up against the western leviathan, a much spinier beast then its brother. There were long outcroppings of twisted rock all along it, one of which sat around the home and made it look as if it were about to be eaten by the beast. All around the property was a wooden fence, and two guards at the gate. Each one was a volunteer to the great and mighty Tobias, two of many. Aza strolled up to them, both raising their muskets. He stopped about ten feet away, speaking softly and bluntly.

  “The name is Azriel....and I am the Nightman.”

  A few small exchanges flew back and forth as Aza was escorted away. Transponders were called and in no time at all, everyone on the west side heard the news of his capture. One of those men sat at a table in a shack on the docks. He was a lowly record keeper, who's miserable day of bickering with this stubborn sea captain was suddenly lit up. The short man dropped his transponder back into his tank and grabbed his coat.

  “I’m sorry Shaw but more important business just came up.” He spoke gleefully and pompously.

  “What are ya talkin about? We ain't through yet!” Shaw followed them man out as he headed westward.

  “It is now old timer, cause I’m closed for the day!” he scampered off and left Shaw alone on the docks.

  “Bah!” He popped the cork and took a swig straight from his wine bottle. “I’ll give him a piece of...of…” He fully turned to face the sea, his old eyes widening. It was morning, but off in the distance black clouds were twisting, spiraling in chaos as they drank up water from the ocean.

  The old sea captain rubbed his eyes and pulled a collapsing telescope from his pocket. He cleared the grimy lens off and peered out into the dark waters. A storm was brewing, a strong one, born from the unnatural. Yet there was something else. A boat was speeding towards the harbor...not one of theirs, but a small one he had never seen….

  Chapter 20: Who I Will Become

  Dullahan was back on the raging waters. He had expected the wights to pose some sort of obstacle, but the streets had been all but empty. Why? He didn’t know or care, as long as it made his journey that much less perilous. Still, he was very afraid of what could still be out there as he sped out into the open ocean.

  As he drew further from town, the winds began to change. He looked up into the starless night and saw the clouds begin to twist and bend. A storm was forming, one born from old magics. It didn’t seem strong enough to knock him off course, but it did fill him with dread. Did the witch know he was on the water, or was it for his former allies back in town? He quickly pushed the thought from his head and focused only on the ocean ahead of him, as well as what he would do next. There was no telling how long it would be until the witch got her hands on the code, assuming any of the parties didn’t manage to break the thing first. Most people could seek aid from the Paladins, but not him. Baile Cara’ Academy had a tense relationship with them at best, hostile at worse. He would need to find a way to get into contact with someone from his school before things in Jacob’s Hallow escalated any further. Not only to stop the witch from getting something so powerful, but to maybe even give Luke and Aza a fighting chance.

  He had two options, East or West. Right now, he was in Gremsallow, one of the thirteen territories that made up the country of Garen Yorkshir. While the area he had found himself in was technically part of the nation, it, and one other, were only so by hasty pacts made following the War of Eras. Paladin presence here was minimal, but the rest of the nation was considered their seat of power in the South. They had little say in politics, religion, or many of the other things they would prefer to, yet the majority of their navy and foundries were stationed there. Dullahan had no idea if he would just be able to slip by and find some strange contraption to call home, or if he would be arrested on the spot. Have his findings stolen and be left in the gutter? Yet it would be faster… he again pushed his brief allies from his mind. The other option would be to head west and sail around the edge of the continent. It would be slow but get him far away from here before anything too bad happened. Though, this would also force him to pass through the seas around Telikos, and into the unknown. He knew about myths surrounding that place, and the Paladin sanctioned Governor who presided over it. Then again, the nation north of that would have no Governor or Paladin presence….but again he knew little about it.

  His thoughts were interrupted as the boat was jerked to the side by the ever more chaotic ocean. He pulled swung some ropes and adjusted the sails as the small vessel began to veer right. Then something from below the water slammed against the side of his ship. Dullahan thought he might have run against some rocks or coral towers, preying it was not some other monster. Yet he knew, deep down, that it had to be. On his way into town it had been storming, and a flash lit up the sky. There were things in these black waters, massive, churning things. He didn’t know if they were on their own, or more puppets of the witch. Upon his arrival he had the element of surprise, but not this time. Any number of spies or creatures could have seen him leaving and signed his death warrant.

  His ship was knocked to the side, nearly capsizing, as something else from the depths smashed against it. Just as he began to right his course, the water around him erupted. The chaotic waves pierced by the tentacle of some enormous beast. The suction cups were bigger then Dullahan, the whole thing ringed with barbs half as long as his boat. He had to rip the small vessel to the side as the tentacle crashed down like a landslide.

  By now he had to be several miles from town, surely this thing wasn’t after him. He was just unlucky enough to be caught in its path. Then more arms began breaking through the waters. He was wrong. Each emergence threatened to sink him, one nearly crashing down directly onto his deck. Lightning ripped through the sky, revealing the tentacle to be molting or ripped. They were rotting. As another barbed arm slammed down, ripping the side of his deck off, it became chillingly apparent he wasn’t getting out of this. All he wanted was to lay low in a small town and take notes on ruins. He wasn't supposed to find any of this, meet those people, be chased by some monster. Was this...karma for lying? He didn’t know that answer or even if he was using that naga word right. He braced himself as the boat flipped up, smashing back down as the horror from below encircled its arms around the ship. It was under him, it had to be. Its massive tentacles were on all sides, forming a wide ring. He had no way out. Dullahan could only close his eyes, and prey to the gods that would judge his soul, as the arms began to topple down.

  There was an explosion. Dullahan looked up in awe to see two of the tentacles blown apart by brilliant green flames. A roar from the depths rocked the seas as the arms shifted to the left. Dullahan pulled his ship from their circle as another arm was blown off. He turned to where the blasts were coming from, and saw a large ship of some kind heading straight for them. One, then two, then four of the green cannons blasted downwards into the ocean. Bursts of bright light filled the raging, frothing waters as the arms went limp and the beast began to sink. Dullahan wanted to just get away, using the mad waters to begin righting himself. Then one of the cannons whizzed by his boat and exploded just in front of him. All the others had hit their marks, even below the sea. It was a warning shot, one Dullahan reluctantly heeded. He turned around and strained to see the other vessel in the rainy night. It was a proper ship, far bigger than his own, with at least three masts. The sea seemed to calm around this mysterious thing as it drew to a halt. The scholar had a bad feeling but didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t turn back or risk sailing on. Someone on this ship was magic and wanted to see him alive. At least he hoped so as he ascended a winding latter and onto a deck illuminated by green lantern light.

  It was quiet...no, mor
e than that, stagnant. There were no sounds, no sailors, no rats. There was only an empty deck and sails gently swaying in the wind. Dullahan stood in place, close to the latter, but his eyes peered in all directions. To his right was the towering quarterdeck, and to his left were the masts and the rest of the vessel. The emerald light twisted the true colors of himself and his surroundings, but he could tell this ship was unnatural. The wood seemed to be grey, with many wrinkles and cracks, as if it were still part of a dying tree. There were large ribs or teeth set into the sides of the deck, with chains running through them as the railings. It was then he began to realize that those weren’t the only things crafted from the skeleton of some massive creature or creatures. He could even see human skulls adorning a door frame that led to the captain’s quarters. Was he meant to go in there? Dullahan wished for nothing more than a weapon, or to find his mentor at his side...or the other two.

  “Come child.” The voice was deep and boisterous, brimming with curiosity at this new stranger on his ship.

  Dullahan spun around, in a full circle, before looking upwards and seeing an eldritch figure perched around the helm. He was tall, maybe a foot or two shorter than the witch, with skin as pale as a wight, and eyes as green as the fires that adorned his vessel. His features were sharp, sporting a long, pointed nose and tall, elven ears. Lipstick and eye makeup had delicately been applied to his grinning face, matching the frilled bow around his top hat. His body was obscured in a black cloak that seemed to sway and bend in some nonexistent wind counter to the ones around them. Slowly the scholar ascended the steps and approached this strange man or thing, choosing his next words wisely. It took him a moment but began to realize who it might be.

  “You....you’re Charlotte Fofnir….am I correct?”

  The man twisted his body around, his cloak shifting and bending like there was not anything underneath, or at least nothing that was human. The two were now almost face to face, the stranger gazing down at his guest like a shark, his teeth sharp as razors. “Depends. Who would you be young scholar?”