“No! Well, no. I will be fine, you two have the more difficult job anyhow.” Han sputtered. “All I need to do is look over some books, confirm some dates.”
Aza was taken back by the nervous way he spoke, but simply nodded and pulled himself up. He was unsure as to what in particular his ally was hiding, but didn’t feel it the time to challenge him on it.
The other two hopped up from their chairs, and all three made their way back out through the tunnel that led out onto Luke’s farm. Han continued South while Luke and Aza split off to the North. Their path took them beyond fences and fields, cows and crows, all the way up to the Northeastern end. Here was where fruits and other ground plants were grown. The change was jarring, as the fields abruptly evaporated into finely spaced trees of varying heights and colors. Yet while vibrant to them, to an outsider the whole area would appear grim. The barks were grey and pustule, with the leaves of many hues, yet all of them washed out and muted. Even the fruits themselves were unnatural, some poisonous to certain members of the village. Though the most distinctive part were the roots. The soil was brimming with a mutualistic fungus that both twisted and nourished the trees. This ancient union resulted in a network of tendrils that ran along a lot of the ground, crossing fields, and sticking up into the road. Some of the mess were from the plants, some from the fungus, and some of a dead plants being feasted upon by what was once their nurturing partner. The latter display being sickening to look upon as the white hairs uncoiled and festered within the rotting carcass.
They largely walked in silence, with Luke eventually speaking first. “I...I’s…” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to hone in his dialect. “I’m sorry about what I said at the tower. It was uncalled fer and insulting to not just you, but to everything you’ve done all these years.”
Aza shrugged, and looked around the dim tree fields, a sharp breeze blowing by. “I mean...you aren’t wrong.” His mind wandered back to the brief argument at the tower.
“Oh, come on Aza…”
He raised his hand, and Luke stopped. “You were right. After you said that...I thought about it, on the ship, on the walk home, and as I lay in bed. I asked myself why I was doing all of this...this, just this whole thing, my deeds, our plans.” He laughed. “For so long I’ve just been going through the motions...going after some...some nebulous goal. Dad saved people, Gregory saved people, it only seemed right that I should too. I always thought it noble, but saying everything out loud it seems like such a shallow reason. An maybe there was more to it at first, but over these years I just got more and more exhausted. After enough people spit in your face for trying to help out...you eventually just stop caring. Then again, here I am so...”
“Don’t go spoutin nonsense like that! If you don’t care about this place then why do all of this? We have poured years into the Nightwatch, made...made an enemy of city hall doin this.” He waved his arms, motioning to the area around them. “You can’t tell me it was all for just...for amusement.”
Aza shrugged. “I don’t know. I care about you, about Gregory, about Aggie, and Gretel. I want more than anything for you all to be able to live your lives, be free, and prosper. Everyone else… I don’t not care, I hate seeing innocent people die, but if you four weren’t here I’m not sure what exactly I’d do.”
“What do you mean?” Luke felt a bit uneasy. “You mean like the thing at the walkway, don’t you?” He thought back to that moment, when Aza stood there seemingly exhilarated by killing the thing.
There was a long silence. “Imagine something warm and sweet like...like a fiery apple made of honey and bell sugar and...and when you eat it you feel stronger ...much stronger” His foot shattered a rotting tangle of roots. “I haven’t told you about some of the earlier times I used my threads. They were a lot less potent back then, but….well I don’t want to go into it. The point is, I found that sweet fire a long time ago and have wanted it again ever since. Yet I haven’t because it’s only in the living, their souls I think. Yesterday, feeling it again, made me question what might have happened without you lot.”
Luke stopped and smacked Aza on the side of his head. “Ya really think that lil of yaself? Without us yous jus go round killin folks?”
Aza put his hand over the forming goose egg. “I’m just bein realistic! I’m not as noble or strong...or...or. You are everything a hero is, the guys from the books. You always know what to do, what to say. Without me you would have started the Nightwatch anyways. I’m just along for the ride. It’s not far fetched to think…”
“So yous like killin then? Right now yous happliy break onto a farmhouse an rip apart the family inside.”
Aza was sickened by the thought. “By the loa no!”
Luke started walking again, with Aza quickly doing so himself. “Ya know, yous my friend and I’s care for ya, but sometimes ya self doubt drives me up a tree. Always has. I’s always felt like ya care about what Tobius an his goons say more than me, or Aggie, or even Gregory...”
Aza was beginning to regret what he had shared, embarrassed at the fact that in some ways Luke was right. “It’s not that, and I’m sorry if I’ve made it seem that way.” He stepped over a decaying root as they began nearing most northern part of the area. The trees were getting taller and the dents in the path more numerous.
Luke just shrugged. “That wasn’t the first time I’s seen ya like that, back on the walkway. I’s believe ya bout the fires. An Is be lyin if I said Is never been fraid of ya none...but at the enda the day ya chose to help people. Ya said a boy helped ya in the ally. How’d that feel?”
Aza thought back to it. “Good.”
“Good, now I reckon with the way thins are goin...it’s gonna get very bad very soon and I need ya all there, not all wishy washy. Can you do that?”
“Yes!” The words flew from his lips faster then he could think. Not forced like with Barnabee, but on their own.
“Good.” Luke stopped talking and silence ensued. They were quickly reaching their destination, but the roots and ruin of the road were slowing them down. The tall farmer was hopping over an arching mass of weeds when he heard his friend finally reply.
“You always say that if we start the Nightwatch you won’t have the courage to give a speech to new recruits. I think that was pretty good, barring the atrocious grammar.” Aza gave a faint smile.
Luke laughed. “Ya know you were wrong.”
His friend tilted his head, unsure to which thing he referred.
“About the Nightwatch. Back then, I’s saw you’d scribbled the idea in one of the books an...well I suggested it to impress ya. Ya said you rely on us, but it’s a two way road. You were right at the tower. If I’s had my way, I’s just stood back while everyone suffered, hidin in a cupboard.”
“Now who's talkin crazy?”
“Hey, I’s the one given sage advice, not you!” He looked down to his friend with a goofy smile.
Aza snickered. “Says the guy who thought a sage was a chef.”
The two gave a laugh as they began approaching a tall iron gate. It sat at the very end of a long and winding path, twisted trees on either side closing in on it like the walls of a maze. Just beyond it was a large yard dotted with trees bearing a very bright, very expensive fruit known as Jacob’s Heart. True to the name, they were a vibrant red with many small outgrowths like the veins and arteries of a human heart. Beyond them lied a large home, not big enough to be called a manor, but far bigger than most houses. It was an odd shape, with three towers and a glass area Arthur called a “green house”. The whole thing looked more like the dwelling of a wizard or tinkerer than anyone here in town. Yet there seemed to be a shadow over the whole area, not a real one or something evil, but a sadness neither boy could place or understand. The duo stopped just shy of the cold gate and tapped upon it, causing a drowsy guard to spring into action.
“Who goes there?” The man was wearing metal gauntlets and a rifle strapped to his back. “Wait a tick, you’re Aza
aint ya?”
He nodded. “I need to see Arthur; is he available?”
“The boss is quite busy. How important is the matter?” He scratched the side of his straw hat.
“It is extremely important! I stopped by the library to return a book I’d forgotten, and saw someone had broken in! The police are too busy with other things to help right now.”
“Ah! Just like those no good rats to not lend a hand.” He plucked a transponder from his overall pocket and spoke to someone on the other end. “ Ok Aza, it looks like you’re good to visit. Just make sure ya hurry, ya know how he gets.”
Aza looked back and nodded as he and Luke continued through the great orchard, two more guards stationed around the premises. They didn’t bother the boys as they arrived at the great doorway and let themselves in. On either side were two staircases that led up to a balcony overlooking the first floor and leading into the second. Ahead was a short hallway, curving off to the kitchen. Yet what stood out to them most of all was all the black. The curtains, the banister wrappings, the carpets, the candles...all dark as obsidian. The whole place felt grim and empty as the two slowly walked down the hall, looking for the master of the house.
Aza had been there a few times before, but didn’t know where exactly to find him. They ended up running into a young maid who offered them directions to a small door leading out of the kitchen. It opened into a large room of glass that stuck to the side of the house like a wood tick. Within it were plants of all varieties in what looked to them like miniature gardens. Some appeared to be younger versions of the trees outside, but much more varied. The rest of the tools and fruiting plants Aza and Luke didn’t recognise, say for some of the berries. Despite all these plants, it didn’t take them long to find the small man sitting under a tree, leaning against its rough bark. His eyes were closed, but his expression was one of annoyance, as per the usual.
“What do you want Aza?” He sounded half asleep.
On the piece of paper Han gave him were notes on all the questions he was required to ask, yet he didn’t need it. He knew why they were here, even more so than Dullahan himself.
“I need to ask you something, something about your son.” He spoke slowly and calmly, not sure how direct he needed to be.
Luke was taken aback. “Son?”
Both of his eyes flicked open like a viper. “I recall saying you could enter the estate, not your guest.”
Luke looked to Aza, who gave a nod. Trusting the serious expression of his friend, Luke nodded in return and stepped out. He jogged back down the hallway and out to the tall gate beyond. Meanwhile Aza and Arthur just looked to one another, now alone. Both not sure how much the other knew. As was done with many of the nobles, there was Ira sap in the paint that transponders couldn’t get through. There was no Luke by his side, and no Barnabee listening in. It was just the two of them.
“I don’t know if you heard, but me and Luke were at the old lighthouse.”
The old man gave a sarcastic laugh. “Who hasn’t heard? You and your two cohorts seem to have made a show of it.” Then he became very serious. “What did you find up there?”
“A notebook supposedly; had your name somewhere on it.”
Arthur pulled himself up, only standing as tall as Aza’s chest, and walked over to a spiraling tree with silvery grey flowers. “And you think it was my son’s?”
“I know it was.” Aza strolled around him, watching as a few blooms were cut from their branches.
“You have quite the fantastic history, don’t you Aza. Raised under the Olmire, deformed and wrapped in bandages. Your mother killed by some horror, your dad dying to them in a heroic last stand.” There was heavy sarcasm on the word heroic, the whole line laced with a disillusioned cynicism.
Aza didn’t reply, he just stood where he was and watched the old man carry on, placing the flowers in a basket.
“Gregory took you in and suddenly in about a years time, the deformities miraculously healed.” He placed the basket on a small desk and took a seat at the stool in front of it. “Gregory is many things, but a healer isn’t one of them. Sure Tobias will spout off about dark magic or a meddling Agnis, but I don’t think either of those claims hold much water.” One by one the petals were peeled back. “Gregory lost a grandson a while back did he not, you two would be about the same age. Maybe a year or two off.”
“Yes. But I didn’t come here to talk about myself. I’m here to ask about Junior.”
The name struck a nerve, his fists clenching. “I always hated it when that disrespectful old bastard called him that.”
“But Arthur never seemed to mind. I think that it made him feel more like your son.”
He didn’t reply. He just sat in silence, remembering the past. “Get out.”
Aza stood his ground. “I don’t know what happened to your son, I assume he has passed, but I know what he worked for in life. He and dad gave everything trying to figure out what was going on in this town. I won't let it all be for nothing, and neither will you I’d guess.”
Arthur sat in silence again. “They died from the same thing your grandpa has now, Arthur’s parents. As they lay there, helpless and dying, I swore that I would keep their son safe. By the loa did I try…”
Aza opened his mouth to interject, but was cut off as the old man looked up to him.
“But I am not delusional, Riel.”
His eyes widened. It had been years since anyone had called him that.
“I miss my boy more than anything. I haven’t seen him since his last “expedition of truth”, as he called them…” He gave a small smile, quickly buried by the crushing reality of the present. “Yet your parents are dead because of his idealistic dream, and I don’t want to see you dragged down with them.”
Aza gave a faint smile himself. “I always knew you cared...but it’s too late now. Barnabee's after us along with who knows what else. Though I’d guess you already know that.”
“Not that Barnabee was after you...so you fools really do need to see this thing through to the end?”
He nodded.
“Well… then I suppose I can give you something that can help.” He hopped off his stool and beckoned for Aza to follow him.
“So you think we can actually do it, save the town?”
“No, but Arthur would have wanted someone to carry on his work. I have done my part to warn you off. If you and your friends perish then it will have been through your own faults, and my conscience will be clear.”
The two strode back around to the main entryway and up one of the gloomy stairways. The upper floor was a maze of small rooms adorned with paintings of past generations, as well as other sculptures sitting up on pedestals. It was lit by a fungal network within the walls, with a quick turn around the corner leading them to a dead end. All around it, the creeping mycelium was exposed, slithering over the floors and creeping along the ceiling. The walls were stained black as was the single door now looming before them. Arthur produced a ring of keys and slowly twisted one into its long forgotten home. It took a few strong pulls, but he was able to get the old thing open, blasting the two with stale air. The old room itself was errie to say the least. It looked as if it had not been touched in years, the bed still made, the clothes still in their drawers. Yet the fungal network had not been maintained, staining all sides of the room and allowing its ghostly tendrils to creep out along the bed. It was like an empty mausoleum, long forgotten by the rest of the world. It’s sole inhabitant missing, yet there in spirit. His fate all but known.
Arthur pulled open a drawer and dug around some old letters. Out came an iron key, unlike any on the ring. “Take it.”
Aza held out his hand and took the curious thing, unsure as to where it belonged.
“He was a brilliant young man. He came up with the greenhouse and helped breed a lot of the heart fruits. With some of the extra money he rented out a basement at Talmore House on the inner west end...number 6. It was dirt cheap and...and... I haven’t h
ad the heart to get rid of it. If any of his work is left, you will find it there.”
“Thank you sir.” He turned to leave, only to feel a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll leave an offering to Nibo for you three.”
Aza turned around. He was unsure if it was a morbid joke from someone with a little hope left, or a literal gesture from a man who knew they were destined to fail. Either way he once again thanked the old librarian and took his leave. Luke was back at the gate, then back on the road as the duo hurried away. Aza filled him in about the key and the basement, but left out what he deemed unnecessary. Without all the talking and stopping, the trip into town was much faster then going out. They arrived at the library with no real trouble, though did spy one of Tom’s cronies behind some garbage.
Once inside, the two maneuvered around the spiraling maze of books and into the small area where Han had been the last time they were all here. To their surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Immediately they began to worry. Each one branched off and hunted around a different part of the library, becoming increasingly manic when neither seemed able to locate him. Yet just as all seemed lost, and their worst fears began to take hold, they heard the door open. Luke rushed to the main aisle while Aza looked down from the balcony above. He saw his friend get lost as he barreled down a dead end spiral. This caused the farmer to miss Han rushing in and down the twisting shelves. Aza followed along from above, looking down as the scholar made a few wrong turns, but ultimately settled in the same spot they had first looked for him at. Aza watched as he pulled a few books down and began placing them about the small table. Now, more suspicious of the outsider than ever, Aza came up with a little test. He quietly retreated back down the steps and into the spiral where Dullahan now resided.
“Han.” He tried to sound very casual.
Dullahan jumped a bit, but fixed his small glasses and smiled. “Aza! How did your trip go...where’s Luke…” There seemed to be concern in his words.
The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow Page 15
