novelraw Chapter 159 - 159 - Goosebumps
Chapter 159 - 159 - Goosebumps
As breathtaking and captivating as it may be, eventually the acrobatic act high up under the roof of the tent comes to an end, and the performers, human sized acrobats and little fey alike bow out. Even their descent back down to ground level is a feat of acrobatics though. If the rest of the show was like this, I really have to drop by and watch it another night. This is something else. One of the pixies winks at me as the elven acrobat carrying her on her shoulder passes me by. Before I can think about that for too long, the atmosphere in the tent changes once more though.
Some of the audience have already left, but those are a minority. A lot more have stayed to wait for the encore Báine has mentioned. I guess it's not quite so much of a secret anymore. That and she has to be pretty popular. Judging by the excited whispers shared among the remaining spectators. I guess I'll get to behold something else good tonight. My excitement is certainly building. There is no doubt about that.
Finally it's time. It starts pretty unspectacular at first. A ghost slowly fades into existence on one of the platforms the trapeze performers used before. It's not Báine though. No it's a bald man with a set of hand drums. He sits there, his legs dangling from the platform's edge, and begins to beat his drums in a slow rhythm. He isn't beating them very hard either, thus it takes a while until everyone still present realizes it.
The reaction of the audience is either expected or well observed. Only when the audience hushes up does a second instrument, played by another ghost join in with the drums. That second ghost sits on the platform near the top of the second massive tent pole. It's a female ghost, but this one isn't Báine either. The fiddle she plays merges with the beat of the drums in a truly haunting way though, almost like the wail of a banshee. It sends shivers down my spine.
Finally the star of the encore shows herself as well, her instrument meshing seamlessly with the others. She probably has already been playing before she started to manifest. The quiet strumming of her banjo isn't dominant for now though. No, right now the fiddle is the most prominent instrument of the small ensemble.
At first it looks like the softly glowing form of the banshee bard is sitting there in empty air right in between the two tent poles. That of course isn't what is happening. She is sitting on the tightrope in between the two tent poles! She is sitting in a quite relaxed way too. How she can do that is beyond me. Either her [Balance] skill is beyond good and evil or it's a ghost thing.
I'm leaning towards the latter. It just seems to be the more likely explanation. I have seen her move and change direction before in ways that seem to defy pesky ideas like gravity or momentum. Yes, those are more like suggestions to her instead of hard rules if I'm not mistaken.
Finally the spectral bard raises her voice in a sad lament and I get goosebumps for real. Considering the numerous gasps and sighs from the rest of the audience I'm not the only one either. Even more, could it be that the banshee bard is actually crying glowing spectral tears that evaporate before they reach the ground below? Her actual words take my mind off such details without fail though.
♪♫♪ Is your voice heavy with sorrow, lost and lonely where the moon forgets to shine? ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ Do you wander through shadows, with a broken heart like mine? ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ The night holds you gently, yet it never eases the pain. ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ I sing to keep from fading, but my echos fade like drops of rain. ♪♫♪
My heart aches as I listen to her, her voice not quite a wail of anguish, yet still so full of sorrow and pain. Then, all of a sudden the tune of the song changes and so does the tone. The fiddle fades and the drums, now more like a heartbeat, and the banjo pick up. Báine's tone changes too. Where she sounded sad and melancholic before she now sounds downright rebellious as she continues.
♪♫♪ Hear me now, darkness my old friend, I won't bow to you tonight! ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ My poor, torn heart, I'll stitch into something fierce and bright! ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ Should grief still try to claim me, let it tremble at my song! ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ For even ghosts grow weary, of bleak years that drag along! ♪♫♪
I can feel my own heartbeat pick up speed to match the banshee's words. The tears running down my cheeks don't stop suddenly, but my mood certainly changes together with the tone of the song. It does make me feel defiant and rebellious for some reason. I don't get a chance to properly get used to this new state of mind either though, as the song changes once more.
At first there was heart wrenching anguish and melancholy which were replaced by an rebellious attitude. Now the latter makes room for a brighter, more hopeful theme. The drums beat a lively tune now and the fiddle isn't melancholic anymore either. And the banjo brings it all together. And Báine's song takes on an upbeat tone, close to what I have come to get to know during our brief acquaintance.
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♪♫♪ When dawn comes creeping. ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ I can't promise I'll stop weeping. ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ But my heart has learned to dance among my falling tears. ♪♫♪
♪♫♪ As my melodies and sunlight chase off those haunted years. ♪♫♪
As her voice fades out on a hopeful note, so does the banshee bard sitting on the tightrope. The other two ghostly musicians follow suit, leaving the audience, including me alone in the dimly lit tent.
I let out a low sigh, something mirrored by many of the remaining spectators in the ranks, although not by all at once. It hasn't been a long song, but thinking back on it, I still get goosebumps. It certainly touched me.
"Thanks for having me. And thanks for watching my back out there too."
My words are a low whisper, barely audible at all. Only people standing there in the dark right next to me or someone with exceptional perception would be able to pick them up amidst the many murmurs of the audience now leaving the tent for good.
I get no answer. Not that I'm actually expecting one. Sure, Sezemat asked the spectral bard to watch over me, but I'm certain the ghost has other things on her agenda too. More importantly though, given that ghosts are not usually manifested and have to make a conscious effort to do so, I suspect it takes considerable energy to keep manifested for any length of time. Báine accompanied me, manifested all the way down from the hill and through the outskirts of town and she put on her show here afterwards too. She might have exhausted her Mana reserves like this.
With one last heartfelt sigh I leave as well. I resolve to come back to watch the whole show tomorrow or some other day. Even though I only caught the very tail end of it tonight I'm sure that I'd miss something incredibly good otherwise. I'm left wondering about something else though. What am I going to do with the rest of the night? I ponder the issue as I slink back outside to make my way through the many stalls of the market in between circus and theater. Many that were closed when I visited last during daytime are now open while others are closed now. It's a nice distraction, but I don't find an answer this way.
There is an easy answer of course. I could head to the boardinghouse, rent a room and get some actual sleep. I consider crossing the wall to go to the adventurers' guild too, but it might be a bit too late to show up there without raising questions I don't want to answer.
As it is, those aren't my only options though. My gaze drifts in between stalls, past the space occupied by the caravan's market to the overgrown foundations hidden in between some shrubbery. I could visit the temple to have a chat with Fox, or at least one of the other, more experienced clerics of other deities. Maybe someone there could give me some pointers on how to help that poor dog.
I don't even know if I can or should, since he seems determined to keep up his sad, eternal vigil, but I should at least inquire. It's like a weight lifts off my shoulders just thinking about it. That seals it. With my mind made up I change directions.
Once I slip into a quiet alley away from the bustle of the night market, I pick up speed. First I ascend to rooftop level, once again using a convenient spot with a stack of sturdy crates and plenty of handholds as well as walls that are close enough together to allow for neat jumps from one to the other. My [Climbing] skill and my [Jumping] skill both benefit.
Once I'm up on the roofs, with my mind made up and a destination and the path leading there chosen, I really take off at a run that is actually closer to a mad dash. I'm really pushing myself this time around. I just feel so motivated right now!
The risks I take pay off too! My [Balance] and [Running] skills both improve a little and so does the [Jumping] skill once more as well. Yet that still isn't all there is. Since I have to keep my eyes open during this midnight run my [Perception] makes some progress as well and since I'm doing my best to stay unnoticed the same is true for my [Stealth]. Every little bit of progress, even if it isn't enough for any level up notifications, feels great! Possibly even more so than usual.
It's exhilarating! It's liberating! It's simply glorious! I dash across the roofs of most of the city. I cross the wall unnoticed. In the end I reach my destination, the temple at the heart of Riverrun almost too soon. At the foot of the tower containing Fox's shrine I stop to catch my breath.
I take the chance to gather my thoughts too. With my fingers already brushing the first handhold for the climb up to the window that serves as the shrine's only entrance I stop though. Sure, I could pester my divine sponsor with my problems. Fox probably wouldn't mind. At worst the prankster would laugh at me and tell me to figure something out. Yes, the only harm would be to my ego, but that's enough to make me consider the other approach again.
Without saying anything I straighten back out and step away from the tower once more to head to the larger tower with the door leading down into the temple's main hall with the majority of the other shrines instead. Let's see if there is some other cleric on duty whom I could pester first.
The place is pretty quiet, which to be honest, is to be expected at this time of the day or rather night. I suspect very few people drop by for any reason after sunset. The temple is not abandoned anyway.
There is a priest, or priestess it's hard to tell, present. It's not one I'm familiar with though. Only as I move closer, crossing the temple's main hall only lit by candles of the various shrines, can I see that it's a man. Probably an old man. He wears a mask like a bird beak and a robe with feathered brim, both are of a deep black, unlike his very much white hair. He too takes note of me, and as he shifts his attention away from the book he has been reading to me a shiver runs down my spine as I feel an identification skill used on me unlike any other I have experienced so far. It feels like he is weighing my very soul. Yet at the same time it doesn't feel judgmental either. Very curious.
I stop and scowl a little, but I do not protest. My [Shrouded Soul] class skill improves a little, but I can feel the old man's gaze piercing it easily. I do not use my own identification skill in turn either. He may have given me an excuse to do so, but it would still be impolite anyway. And besides, given the ease with with he pierced my shroud, I suspect he might be a pretty powerful priest.
He lets out a chuckle, or at least I think it's supposed to be one. The way he starts to cough halfway through though makes it almost sound like the caws of a raven. Even if it's not on purpose it seems surprisingly fitting.