Black Static Horror Magazine #3

by TTA Press Authors

  Now that he watched it move, saw the mesmerizing way it flowed and felt its way along the building, he believed the madmen's stories. The fog was alive.

  Hasteng climbed onto the rooftop. “Come on. We're almost there,” he panted. They turned and continued their run. Vathristern was a straight shot now.

  They hopped from roof to roof, keeping their breaths steady. The buildings closer to the Cathedral were further apart. Each jump became more and more treacherous. No longer the squat, flat-topped roofs of the merchant district, these were taller, steeper, and more slippery.

  In an alleyway directly below him a man began to scream. It echoed up the walls, followed with the sounds of ripping cloth and flesh. It pushed them faster, giving them more determination to reach their goal. Three rooftops later, the screaming stopped. But in the distance the sounds of other unfortunates’ death throes echoed throughout the city.

  While working the docks, he'd heard sailors tell of far away places outside Mordakland where the mist did not exist. Lands such as Rhomanny, Mercina, and Galestia. Lands he'd never thought to see. That was until he met Pascha, and heard his proposal.

  Pascha was a thick, balding man who arrived in the city five months ago from Rhomanny. He opened a small furniture store off Dishik Plaza. The steady stream of nobles and rich merchants wishing to furnish their homes in the latest of foreign fashion had made him a very rich man.

  Two months ago, he had found Hasteng who worked as a locksmith's assistant. Pascha had said he lost his keys and needed someone to pick the lock to his home. He insisted it be Hasteng.

  Hasteng took little time in opening the two elaborate locks to Pascha's shop. Once they were inside Pascha produced the keys from his pocket and told him he had passed the test. When asked what he meant, the fat man laughed and said he was in need of the best two thieves in Lichthafen. He had a difficult job, and Kellek and Hasteng would be perfect.

  "Do you want to be rich, or does scratching a living at the docks appeal to you?” he remembered the fat man asking in his thick Rhomanic accent.

  Kellek laughed. “Nothing in this city appeals to me."

  Pascha's eyes twinkled with a sinister edge. “Then let me show you your passage out.” He reached into a black velvet bag. His thick fingers emerged clutching a handful of blood-red gems. They slipped between his fingers and clacked musically back into the pouch. “Natralsian rubies. More wealth than a lifetime of petty thefts and pick-pocketing. Enough for both of you to live rich anywhere you wish. All you have to do is a single job for me."

  The red gems sparkled even in the candlelight. “What do I have to do?” he asked, his eyes transfixed on the prize.

  Kellek's foot slipped on a loose tile. His arms flailed as he tried to catch his balance. His gut knotted as he looked down. If the four story drop to the street below didn't kill him, the yawning black mist not ten feet under him would.

  He cried out as he felt himself falling backwards. The weight of the rope over his shoulder pulled at him like an anchor. Taking a breath, he braced himself for the plunge.

  He felt Hasteng's hand grasp his shoulder.

  "Hold on! I got you.” Hasteng pulled him forwards, allowing him to regain his balance.

  "You okay?"

  "Ja, I'm fine,” Kellek panted. Fool, he thought. Keep focused. Stop dreaming of the money. Worry about the job.

  Vathristern was now only a stone's throw in front of them. Its twisting spires loomed against the night sky. They climbed down the side of Barilad's Mercantile and carefully stepped onto the adjoining wall. The dark mist twisted and curled not a hand's breadth below their feet.

  Quickly they raced along the stone path as if running along top of the sea of mist blanketing the city. Rooftops and trees jutted like islands above an ocean of evil fog. They moved past the monks’ quarters and courtyard within the wall. Finally they came to the end where it met the high, sheer face of Vathristern Cathedral.

  Kellek rubbed his hands and cracked his knuckles as he looked up the imposing wall. This was as far as they had ever gotten in the practice runs. From here on, it was new.

  He slipped his fingers between the rough stones. Slowly, yet hurriedly, he climbed. The crumbling mortar made finding handholds easy, but the beady grit made them slippery and unsure. With great care he pulled himself onwards. The balcony to the Archbishop's office rested near the top. Below him Hasteng stood on the wall waiting. His hands were too delicate to make this climb.

  As hard as he tried to keep focus, his mind still wandered back to Pascha's shop.

  "The Church has something I want. Something you're going to get for me."

  "The Church?” he asked.

  Pascha nodded. “Something in the Archbishop's quarters."

  Kellek sighed deeply. Breaking into the palace and defiling the Kaiser's throne would be an easier task. At least the Royal Guards would show him more mercy than the Church Knights. His eyes returned to the rubies that still trickled like rain from fat man's fingers.

  "We'll do it."

  He was almost to the balcony. Only a few more feet until he could grab the railing. Digging his fingers deep between the stone bricks he pulled himself closer. His toes struggled to find a foothold. Once they felt secure, he reached up towards the rail.

  His fingers brushed the carved stone. He couldn't grab anything. Hugging the wall as best he could, Kellek pushed up with his toes and other hand. Trying not to think of the sixty foot fall to the courtyard, he stretched every part of his body up towards the ledge. His muscles aching, and his balance frighteningly unstable, Kellek managed to grab hold of the stone rail.

  He grunted with satisfaction as he pulled himself up and clamored onto the balcony ledge. There was no time to rest yet. Slipping the heavy coil off his shoulders, he tied one end securely to the railing and let the rope fall to where Hasteng waited below.

  Hasteng grabbed the line and began his ascent. Placing one foot against the railing, Kellek braced himself as he heaved the rope hand over hand. His throbbing muscles burned as he pulled. Hasteng merely held on tight, and walked up the church wall. With gritted teeth, Kellek hoisted his friend onto the landing.

  Hasteng patted him on the shoulder. “Good job. Now for my part.” He removed a slender metal blade from his bag and worked it between the double doors.

  Taking the time to rest, Kellek leaned against the balcony and tried to catch his breath. Every sinew of his body screamed with pain and exhaustion.

  The rest was short-lived as Hasteng slid the thin blade up the door crack. With a smile he pulled open the door and stepped inside. Kellek took one last gulp of air and followed.

  The faint moonlight cast long shadows into the room. Dark shapes loomed around him as Kellek weaved between a massive desk and several chairs. Red embers faintly glowed inside a fireplace. Somewhere within the building he heard echoes of the praying.

  Hasteng took a candle off the mantle. Holding its wick against one of the hot coals, he softly blew. A pale flame licked out of the ember, lighting the candle.

  He tapped his ear and then pointed to the door.

  Kellek stepped over to the elaborate oaken door. Gold leafing framed a carved triangle of Arieth. He held his breath as he put his ear to the small gap between the door and frame. He heard nothing but the distant sounds of prayers and his own heart thumping in his ears.

  Hasteng had lit the two other candles on the candelabra and now studied an immense stone and wood case against the far wall. Tight-spaced iron bars protected the case's contents. The scarf of Saint Kistim, the ring of Saint Vilhelm, and the heart of Saint Evetta were only a few of the priceless artifacts inside.

  "What do you want from the Archbishop?” he had asked the fat man.

  Pascha smiled. “Inside his chambers is a case. A case whose locks are said to be unpickable. It holds several priceless holy artifacts as well as the sacred remains of over seventeen Saints."

  "You wish for us to steal you a Saint?” asked Hasteng. “Name him,
and he's yours."

  The Rhomanian shook his head. “On the side of the case is a locked secret panel. Inside there is the treasure I want."

  Kellek watched Hasteng traced his fingers along the side of the case near the floor. He stopped at the third carved face of an angel. With firm fingers he twisted the marble face. It moved. Slowly, he turned the relief around until it was upside-down.

  Kellek flinched as the case clicked. The angel's head popped forward an inch. Hasteng pulled it like a handle, and a stone door revealed itself as it smoothly swung open.

  Hasteng ran his hand along his bristled jaw as he looked inside. Kellek leaned over his partner's shoulder and saw the safe that now confronted them. Two jagged keyholes peered at them from its black iron face.

  Kellek sighed. It was the most elaborate safe he'd heard of, let alone seen. “Can you do it?"

  Hasteng nodded as he surveyed the locks. “Ja, just give me a little time."

  "We don't have time. The mist is rising."

  "Shh. I know.” Hasteng unrolled a leather pouch. Inside were dozens of bent wire picks and slender tools. “They're Quellish locks. Very complicated. Just be quiet and let me work."

  Kellek stepped back against the far wall. Beside him he noticed a small window with a top-hinged door. The echoing sounds of prayers came from behind it. He looked over his shoulder to Hasteng. He was engrossed with the locks, and wouldn't see if Kellek took a peek.

  He pushed the wooden flap open very slightly. From the small crack he looked down on the crowded chapel. Men and women filled the wooden pews. Archbishop Hristom led the congregation of priests and townspeople. The smells of dust, incense, and candle smoke barely masked another stink: fear.

  He dared to open it a little more, despite the risks of being seen. From his new angle he could see the great double doors of the Cathedral. The cracks around and between the barred doors were crammed with wet cloth, sealing the entrance airtight. Several armored Church Knights stood beside the entrance, shifting uneasily as they protected the barricade. Everyone was consumed with thoughts of the horror that plagued the streets. No one could suspect that two thieves would dare a raid on a night of fear such as this.

  Hasteng and Kellek had anticipated that. It took a week to formulate the plan to raid the Archbishop's office. The City Guards, random witnesses, and Church Knights were all factors that could not be avoided under normal circumstance. Only a distraction as great as the fog could keep prying eyes occupied elsewhere. The dangers of the mist could be eluded, if prepared for. They had waited weeks for it. Every night brought the promise of the mist. Every day was spent biding their time, hoping for it to come.

  Kellek lowered the door shut and returned his attention to the office. Hasteng worked the picks in the lock. Carefully he turned them and the safe responded with a click.

  One more to go.

  "What is it?” he had asked the fat man.

  Pascha gave a toothy shark's grin. “A chalice. A silver chalice encrusted with gems."

  "That's all?"

  Pascha nodded. “Fetch me that, and I will reward you handsomely."

  Kellek didn't know what the chalice was, nor did he care. His eyes returned to the bag of rubies. The fat man would have his cup, and he and Hasteng would have their prize.

  A second click pulled Kellek back to the present.

  "Got it!” Hasteng hissed.

  Kellek knelt beside him to hold the candles as he opened the iron door. Inside lay a bundle of cloth. Once white, the old fabric had darkened and yellowed.

  Hasteng licked his lips as he lifted it out of the safe. Carefully he unwrapped the bundle to find a black, tarnished goblet. Six rubies lay evenly spaced around the lip. On its side was a symbol of a circle with six diamonds, like spikes, facing inward to a single gem in the center.

  "We got it.” Hasteng wrapped it back inside the bundle and shoved it into his satchel. “Let's go."

  Quickly the two thieves closed the safe and its secret covering. Kellek blew out the candles and returned them to the mantle. Hasteng stood at the door holding the latch up with his thin-bladed tool. As Kellek stepped out onto the balcony, Hasteng carefully closed the door behind them and locked the doors from the inside.

  Kellek looked down from the ledge. A sea of the murky fog covered the city. He couldn't see the courtyard wall. The mist had swallowed it.

  "Be careful,” he said to his friend, as Hasteng swung his leg over the rail. “The fog has risen; try not to miss the wall."

  Hasteng nodded, clutched the rope, and dropped out of sight. Within only a few seconds Kellek heard his feet land on the wall below. He tied a string to the end of the rope that jutted from the knot holding it to the rail. After checking it was secure, he dropped the spool to his partner below.

  He removed two thick, worn pieces of boot leather from his pouch. Sliding his fingers through the loops tied to the back, he secured them over his palms. Kellek crawled over the railing and took the rope in his leather-bound hands. With one last breath he kicked off the ledge and zipped down the line. The heat from the rope worked its way through the leather, warming his fingers. He squeezed harder to slow his descent as he neared where Hasteng stood, knee-deep in the fog.

  The stone felt slick as he stepped onto the wall. The dark mist crept into his pants legs. It softly squeezed him and pulled at the little hairs as if examining him the way one would inspect a chicken at the market.

  It felt unsettling. Kellek kicked his leg a little to shake it off of him, but the mist held fast.

  "Get the rope and let's get to the roofs,” Hasteng hissed. He gave a hard tug on the string pulling out the rope knot above. Kellek began coiling the line even before it finished its fall from the balcony. It landed on the ground with a dull thud. Quickly he gathered it and the string and tied the coil into a tight bundle.

  The two thieves hurried along the wall as best they could. Unable to see their own feet, they took small steps along the slippery stone in order not to fall off. The depth of the mist grew. By the time they had reached Barilad's, the fog was at their waists.

  Kellek breathed a sigh of relief as he clutched the wall, waiting for Hasteng to finish his ascent to the roof and out of the mist. He threw the heavy bundle of rope out into the unseen street below. There was no more use for it now; it would only burden him.

  When he reached up to grab the building's window sill, he noticed a black slimy moss clung to the sides of the structure wherever the mist touched it. He shifted his feet again against the slippery stones of the wall realizing that it was this same mold that had made it so treacherous.

  He shook it out of his mind. The mist was growing deeper and if he didn't move it would consume him. Kellek dug his fingers into the window sill and pulled himself out of the fog. He reached up to the eaves when something grabbed his hand. Kellek jumped, almost losing his balance on the windowsill.

  "Come on. I got you,” said Hasteng.

  Kellek sighed as his partner helped pull him onto the wooden shingles of the roof. Until that moment he hadn't realized how truly afraid of the mist he was.

  "You good?” asked Hasteng

  "Ja, I'm good."

  He grinned. “Then get up. We're almost done. Then we can drink the rest of the night away."

  "And plan how we will spend our reward,” he said, crawling to his feet.

  "Don't tell me you haven't spent it in your head already,” Hasteng chuckled. “Let's go.” He turned and ran.

  Kellek followed him, climbing the steep rooftops towards home.

  Around them, the mist grew. Many of the smaller buildings were now completely consumed within the impenetrable fog. It licked at the edges of many of the roofs the two thieves traversed. And everything the fog touched it corrupted with the slimy black mold.

  They continued their run towards Hasteng's apartment. Even aside from having to make detours around the lower buildings that now lay buried under the mist, their journey felt inexplicably longer. Their energy ha
d been spent on the run to the cathedral. Their muscles burned with exhaustion making each step feel wobbly and unsure.

  Kellek stopped at a ledge. The mist covered the last foot of the sloping roof. The next building was a good jump away. He knew the unseen street lay three stories below, but the chasm between the houses might be a hundred for all he could tell.

  He looked up and down the street for an easier point to jump.

  "This is the best spot,” said Hasteng, as if reading his mind again. The dark-haired thief took a step back before the running leap to the adjacent roof. He landed on the edge, but the thin layer of slime caused his foot to slip. With outstretched arms he tried to regain balance, but it only delayed his fall backwards off the roof. Hasteng cried out for only a second as he plunged through the mist before the pavement of the street below cut him off.

  "Hasteng!” Kellek cried out. “Are you okay?"

  A soft groan answered him.

  "Hold on, I'll come get you.” Kellek ran back to where he had come, remembering a flight of stars leading down from the roof of the previous building. Facing the mist might be madness, but he had to rescue the chalice, and more importantly his lifelong friend.

  With little difficulty he found the steps leading down into the fog. The wooden stairs were slippery with scum forcing him to slow down. He felt the mist enter his clothes and explore his skin as he lowered himself deeper into the fog. Kellek took a breath before submerging his head beneath the misty waves.

  It caressed him. Kellek felt the sinister vapor pull and squeeze gently over his body. It violated his nose and ears, he felt ill at the thought of it entering his body with every breath, bringing with it the smell of mildew and rot. Now more than ever, he knew the mist not only harbored monsters and demons, it was one itself. Kellek had no doubt the mist was aware of his presence, and welcomed it.