The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow

by Patrick Walsh

  “There are other intelligent races besides humans out there. One subset of them are called elves; maybe you have read up on them in your tales.”

  Aza leaned in, nodding. They had shown up in many of his old fantasy stories of heroes and monsters, though he didn’t really know if they were real or not.

  “Now there are eight subtypes among them. One of these were called the Vorustrow, I believe you mentioned seeing one in your books earlier today...it was practicing necromancy if I recall.”

  “Yeah, were they the slave masters?”

  Han nodded and his excitement dropped, the seriousness of the past overtaking his mind. “Now all of the eight of the elven subgroups, well say for the tree elves, are somewhat...supremacist. Each of their religions and societies speak of them as a higher form of life then the rest of us. Most never take this any further than looking down their noses at “lesser races’, but not the Vorustrow. They had a dogmatic hierarchy of species, with groups only fit for eradication, some to work as slaves, and their sister races to live among them as second class citizens. They of course would sit at the top, ruling over all.”

  “Sounds like they would have a lot of enemies.”

  Han smiled. “You would be very right. For years they remained stuck in their own territory, their numbers too small to do any real harm.” He became very serious again. “That was until they made three massive breakthroughs in magic. With these, they began to expand their lands and form an empire. After about a century they had three expansive territories on different ends of the continent. One of them sat in this region, and its capital was called Verdracill, home of the Great Necropolis.”

  “Great Necropolis?”

  Han began to lose much of his excitement at recounting the past as he was reminded of his horrible situation in the present. “Think of it like a massive mausoleum and temple. The one here would have been miles wide and deep, to house all the fallen of their race.”

  “Ok. So what happened to them?”

  “The War of Eras happened. They and their allies went to war with the world, and for a long time they were winning. It was eventually the Paladins that united all the remaining powers under one banner and defeated them in a conflict spanning decades. This region in particular was ravaged by the second use of the World Engine. The land your town sits on was once many miles from the sea...which is why I and Arthur initially didn’t think this was Verdracill. As far as most maps, and the rest of the world, would tell you...the city... collapsed into the ocean.”

  Aza took in all the new information. “Well if it was so long ago, then why does it matter?”

  Han replied with a long laugh. Tangled within it was fear, nervousness, and genuine amusement at the city even being here. “It matters because the necropolis was underground. There is no telling how much of the massive thing is still around, and it is all laying directly beneath us. That could be where the witch is, where the wights hide...where some other horror lurks. That does not even take into account all of the artifacts that could be lying down there.”

  Aza’s eyes widened. “Like the lantern…”

  “Yes, but I guarantee you there is far more, and far worse.”

  “Oh…” He sat in silence for a while before prying again. “Will we have to go down there?”

  Han did a deep exhale. “I pray to Odin we don’t.”

  Aza didn’t what Oden was, but felt content with what he had learned for the time being. Though before he got up, on small thing came to mind. “What is the puzzle box for? I saw you hold it out and then grab it when we left.”

  Han was reminded of it himself and wrestled the thing from his now wet pocket. He wiped some of the slime it had accumulated into his empty bowl, and set the strange contraption on the table for all to see. “It was a gift from Professor Donn Cuailnge, one of the six heads of the academy. He told me that in my darkest hour, I would know what to do with it.”

  “Sounds pretty special...what did you do to get it?”

  Han just laughed again. “Nothing, a lot like all the good this useless thing has ever done me. As I said before, it is just an old birthday gift, and I suspect little more...but knowing him...I do not really know.”

  Aza nodded as Han gazed at the thing, peering over a million memories. He decided that he would leave him to his books for the night and headed for the steps. Han’s makeshift bed had been fixed by Gretel, who herself was curled up on the couch for the night. Aza smiled at the thought of everyone being safe and snug, if even for a moment. He gave the familiar knock at the door and crept inside, greeted by quiet, strained snoring. The familiar chair was pulled to the side of the bed as the long wait began. Though with how responsive he had been the last few nights, his hopes were high. Minutes ticked by, half of an hour, a full hour, more beyond that, as he was given no response. His spectral eyes and luminus hair stuck out in the shadows like an angler fish as he remained faithfully at his post. He refused to give up, and fate eventually decided to reward his resolve.

  One at a time, Gregory’s eyes came open. “Where...what…” He looked around and settled upon his grandson. “Aza, what are you doing up here?”

  He gave a faint smile. “Just a nightly visit. Gretel made stew.”

  “Did she?” He laughed. “I guess someone in that house had to learn how to cook.”

  Aza laughed, but waited for his grandfather’s inevitable realisation of his condition. Yet Gregory didn’t even seem to notice. “You know how Aggie is.”

  “Ha! More than most.” He shifted a bit on the pillow. “So what are you really doing?”

  “What...what do you mean?” Aza thought his mind might be slipping again.

  “All day I’ve been waking up...and...remembering…” He blinked a few times as if his thoughts were stuck in sap. “These last few nights, now even.” He looked his grandson up and down. “I know when someone’s been in a fight.”

  Aza opened his mouth, but was cut off.

  “An damn it Aza, don’t give me some watered down child's explanation. Even if I forget it all in an hour, I at least want to have it in here somewhere.”

  His grandson sat in silence, and then it all spilled out. He told him of Dullahan, of the lighthouse, of Barnabee, of Arthur, of Gretel, of Luke, his powers, the monsters, everything. By the time he was done, his throat was dry and his thoughts were tangled. “Do...you know what I should do?”

  Gregory lay in silence, absorbing all he had been told. “You don’t need me to tell you what to do anymore. You haven’t for a long time.

  Having said it all out loud, Aza found himself overwhelmed. He leaned down, and rubbed his hands through his hair. “But I don’t know how this is supposed to end...I don’t want to lose you...lose everyone…”

  He sighed. “You have chosen a very dangerous path, one most would never be brave enough to take. It took your father’s life, and it is taking my own. Deep down I would have wished you had been able to lead a simple life, settle down, and raise a family...but I’m proud you chose to stand up for what you think is right. The only advice I can give you now, is that all things must come to an end… but at every end there is a new beginning.”

  Aza gave a small laugh. “I thought you hated vague pleasantries.

  He chuckled a bit as well. “Eleen used to tell me that, so I gets to be the one exception.”

  “Sounds like something she would have said.”

  “You have anything else you want to talk about before I nod off?” The old man shifted in his sheets.

  He smiled, and the two had a long talk. It was not of the present, and the encroaching danger, but of old memories. Happier memories. By its end Aza had been up far too late. He eventually had to be shooed away by Gregory, who could tell how tired he was getting. Slowy, he stumbled out to his room and tossed his coat and over clothes onto the messy floor. Then finally, after a long day, he collapsed onto his bed for the night. He felt a matted set of feline ears by his head and pulled the ratty thing towards him. It found
a familiar place crushed under his arm as he yawned and quickly drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 13: Into the Depths

  Aza was tearing through the darkness...alone...the cold pressing in all around him. Yet he felt its call drawing him deeper into the depths. He had thought it to be a creature...or a god...but one word from Han’s ramble spun through his thoughts, “Gauntlet”. Soon enough he found himself at the edge of an endless drop, the shadows crawling up around him from all sides. Each one returning to the beating heart at the core of this gloomy place. Aza could see it beating, shifting, contorting. A thick, black orb of ink and shadows...and within...within it was a gauntlet. Aza. There it was...that hollow, endless voice. He searched around, again he was able to see others in the endless abyss. Each one at their own drop and unable to reach their prize. Was it calling out to them as well? It had to be...but what was this impossible artifact?” Aza cast a mass of threads from his fingertips, but they merely dispersed into the ether. Each one unable to get him any closer to his desire. Then it all shook. The shadows, fled and churned in mass numbers. He looked up to see the figure from the night before peering down from above. The place shook again. Aza was sent toppling down into oblivion, the dark and endless void. But as he fell, he realised it wasn’t endless. There was something at the bottom of the abyss…

  Aza sprung up in his bed, sweat clinging to his quivering form. He searched around the dim room in a manic haze, only to realise he was home. He was safe...at least for now. New shirt and pants, old overcoat and boots fell onto their familiar resting spots as the door to the small room slammed shut. He hurried down the stairs, over a sleeping Han, and to a sitting Gretel who had already made breakfast. Aza took his seat and joined her, hungrily stuffing down parts of the spread that had been laid down for everyone.

  “Leave some fer Han, ya sea sponge!” She swatted at him as he reached for a mushroom cap sprinkled with fish.

  Aza slowed himself down and leaned back in his seat. “Sorry, it's been a busy few days.” He laughed a bit and rubbed his hands through his luminescent hair as he thought of all the insanity that had occurred.

  “I suppose so…” She trailed off, unsure how to proceed. “So Barnabee’s after ya.”

  Aza coughed, nearly spitting out the syrup coated tentacle he was slurping up. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Han was ramblin till the wee hours. He kept knockin his books around, wakin me up. I was near close to tossin me own novel at him, when he finally went to bed.”

  “Oh…” Aza peered over at his snoring guest and then back to Gretel, leaning in towards her. “He’s been a bit...scarce on some of the details. Whatever the Paladins want here, they aren’t too keen on sharing. Did he say anything that sounded important?”

  Gretel opened her mouth, but then looked to Han as well before turning back. “Not sure what would be important for whatever ya two are up to.”

  “Anything about the lighthouse, any person, a Gauntlet, cities? Oh, or anything about the Paladins, too.” Asking like this felt underhanded, but he needed a better idea of how all these pieces fit together.

  She scratched her pale, pink hair. “Umm, I’m not sure...oh! I remember him mentioning the undertaker quite a few times.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah...and something about a piece of paper. Sometime late in the night he found something about a piece of paper.”

  “Like a map?”

  “No...I don’t think so. When he read about the damned thing I think he nearly had a panic attack.” Her eyes darted around. “Then I think somethin slipped out about a gauntlet when he was ramblin.”

  Aza nodded. “Thanks.”

  He leaned back and the two continued eating, Aza mulling everything over while Gretel thought about what a find that blanket was. Just as he got up to wash their dishes, a knocking rang through the house. The two looked to one another with Gretel nodding while Aza hopped up and crept over to the door. He got close to it, but didn’t undo any of the locks and latches.

  “Who isn’t there?”

  There was silence, followed by a muffled back and forth. Aza put his ear to the wood and began to hear what they were saying.

  “It’s you two’s stupid password, how would I know it?”

  “I thought yous read Gregory’s books when you was a kid?”

  “Not as obsessively as you two dolts, and that was years ago!”

  Aza sighed. Luke forgetting their codes or passwords was nothing new, and at least the bickering provided some proof it was really them. One by one the locks shot open and he hastily ushered the two in and over to the table. He pulled a couple more chairs out from the living area and everyone took a seat, with Gretel walking over to wake up Han. Aza excitedly filled in Luke about the chest and the water monster while Desmond leaned back impatiently. Their chatter ended when a haggard looking Dullahan weirily trudged to the front of the table. He pulled his glasses from a coat pocket and motioned for Gretel to take what would have been his seat.

  “Last night was...enlightening.” His fingers tapped about the side of the table, his mind not even fully aware. “I have kept much of this investigation to myself and will continue to do so...but as of last night something very important has come to my attention. Well I suppose several things would be more accurate.” His eyes locked onto Desmond. “Many of them come back to your boss.”

  “What do you mean?” The mortician shifted in his seat, feeling surrounded.

  “How long have you apprenticed with him?”

  “Well...I...I’s…” He did the math in his head, his manic eyes shooting around the table. “Fourteen...an...that would make eleven years.”

  “So nearly half your life?” He was already digging around in his satchel for the journal that had revealed so much.

  “I guess so.” The realisation that he had been at this rotten job for that long hit him like a ton of quarry stone.

  “What do you know about him? I mean unnatural things, things that you would not normally share.” He leaned in. “Strange habits or stories? Keep in mind, he could be the mastermind behind very monstrous and illegal activities. If I find out you were assisting him, both of you will be thrown into the Bastello Dolarious!”

  “The...what…”

  “The Demon’s Gut! The most secure and violent prison in all the countries! The Paladins do not take kindly to dark magic of any kind, let alone what has been going on here.”

  Desmond was squirming in his seat. His mind flashed from event to event, to times long since lost to the sands of time. “He’s older than dirt, and crazier than anythin that’s set foot on it. I’m not sure where to even begin.”

  Han rolled his eyes. “To start, how old is he? Who is his family? Where did they come from?” He looked to the other three, clearly asking all of them.

  The four all thought about it, and all but Desmond came up short. “I don’t think anyone remembers anymore. He’s just always been around.”

  Han glared at him, and began flipping though the notebook. “Arthur Lore the Second had four notable encounters with the Undertaker. The first was when Arthur was investigating somewhere called “the old cemetery”. According to him, Mr De Vone nearly shot him in the head and told him to leave, despite the grounds having been left to the elements for some time. The second encounter happened later when he asked him for permission to traverse any of the burial sites. The third happened when he confronted De Vone about supposed late night strolls, and rumors of him healing the newly born of unnatural ailments. In their last encounter he escorted Arthur and some unnamed associates back to the old cemetery on the edge of nightfall, where, according to him, none of the creatures of the night attacked them despite the time of day.”

  Desmond was only able to give a nervous shrug. “I wasn’t there for any of that! For...for Samandi’s sake, he’s got me busy with all the crazy crap he pulls on a daily basis! I don’t have any time left to stop and ask him his life story. He likes betting on things. I know
for a fact the rumors about him healing the infants are true. Mending a broken soul or something is what he says.”

  “That there is the point of contention!” Han snapped the journal shut. “You cannot just heal a soul.”

  Aza shifted nervously. “What do you mean?”

  “Cracking a soul takes a lot of power...but mending one…” He rubbed his hands through his hair. “Most gods cannot even mend a soul. The most elite of the Paladin's High Priests struggle with it. That is the whole reason why I said becoming a Tellisoura de Sol is so dangerous. If the crack is too wide then it all unwinds, and there is nothing you can do as your body burns from the inside out!”

  Luke stood up a bit, seeing the fear the manic scholar was causing everyone. “Now just calm down. Do you think that Mr. De Vone is the witch?”

  Han was aggravated by the know nothing farmer’s intrusion, but just as fast really looked at the four of them. Aza was pulling at his coat, as if trying to feel his soul. Gretel and Desmond were confused, but visibly afraid. Then there was Luke himself, who was looking at him as if he were a mad man. Han took a deep breath and spread his arms, slowly bringing them to the edge of the table. “I apologise if I seem rash, but last night I made a very important discovery. Somewhere deep underneath the city is a piece of parchment. The thing all by itself is not a concern, but is a stepping stone to finding something else. If the Undertaker is the witch, then we can stop him here and now. If not...then we have a very dangerous journey ahead of us.”

  Desmond rubbed his hands together and nodded to himself. “De Vone is many things, but he aint the one behind the monsters. City Hall has asked us to do a lot over the years, and most of it he’s turned down for...violating his duties I suppose. He might be crazy, but he means well. Now I don’t know nothin about where he gets his powers, but he ain’t usen em for evil.”

  Han just sighed. “The same conclusion Arthur came to.”

  “Ok, if we don’t think he’s the witch...then what’s this dangerous journey?” Gretel looked back and forth to the three boys, Aza knowing exactly what he was talking about.