Day 26,
Maiko was gone when I woke up this morning. Can’t say I’m surprised there. Looks like she left something behind on the previous page though. I’m not sure whether to be glad she thought to leave a “thank you” note or creeped out that she got into my journal.
The Catacomb nightmare came back again last night like Pat said it might. The tunnels were different this time though. Carved and tiled stonework instead of the mineshaft-like roughness of last time. Still there was a distinct sense of being in the same place, simply a different part of it. And still that claustrophobic sense of being lost and trapped that persists into the waking hours.
I’m heading back to Siren Overlook today – alone this time, most likely – to see if that actually does help clear my head. Better an hour long hike there and back to listen to some otherworldly music for a bit than to have this obsessive flashing back to the dream every time I let my mind wander for the next several days.
Looks like I’ll be spending the night at the archive again. The Siren Overlook helped with the nightmares but it had its own complications.
After making a brief stop at the library to make sure there weren’t any urgent requests waiting for me I departed for the Overlook. The trip up there was uneventful enough. I’d brought a basket with me, figuring I’d stay up there for half an hour to an hour or so, listen to the song, take in the view, maybe write a bit, have some lunch, and then head back into town. What happened instead was I got so relaxed that, combined with the restless night’s sleep prior, I fell asleep.
It was a pleasant, dreamless sleep. Or if there were dreams I can’t remember them. Less pleasant was waking up to a weight on my chest. I blearily opened my eyes only to find myself staring into a light. No, two lights. Two glowing orbs set into a face mere inches from my own. Two terrible eyes illuminating a countenance of dark and warped bark in sharp relief. The sharp-toothed smile was close enough for me to make out the woodgrains in the otherwise ivory-colored teeth and to remind me that not all smiles are kind.
And yet, in the background, the siren’s song persisted. I suspect I owe to this that I remained merely on the edge of panic rather than tipping over into a full blown attack. It is a most curious and unpleasant sensation, being simultaneously fed conflicting stimuli; one of peace and relaxation, the other of terror and danger. Still, it allowed me to stay comparatively calm and keep my wits about me.
And thus I was of sound enough mind to realize that this was the nature sprite crouching on top of me, and thus I was unlikely to be in any true danger. I briefly strained my muscles, verifying that the entity was too strong for me to simply force off of me. Indeed, as I became more awake and aware of my surroundings, I realized that it had a hand on either of my wrists and was pressing them into the grass as well.
And so, seeing few other options left to me, I asked the nature sprite to get off of me, as politely and calmly as I could manage. The creature didn’t seem to have expected this reaction, assuming that the curious cocking of its head in response was any indication of that. And then, horribly, it released its hand from just one of my wrists and traced a gnarled, woody finger around the underside of my jaw, chuckling as it did so and leaving a scratch mark behind.
Perhaps it saw something in my face betraying my newfound fears that it might not be as harmless as I was led to believe and was finally satisfied with the fright it gave me. For soon it released its grip and jumped off of me, pushing off with a force that left me winded and likely sporting a new bruise to accompany the one I’d gained from Maiko colliding with me and knocking me to the floor the previous night.
And so I was left once again with a scattering of leaves and the all too familiar ghost of laughter as a fading counterpoint to the song. With those baleful eyes no longer in my face my own eyes were finally adjusting to the ambient light enough to realize that I’d accidentally slept the day away and the sun was already beginning to set. As spectacular as I’m sure a sunset over the sea from this southwestern facing overlook would be, I had no desire to be caught out on the road at night with no lantern.
Despite my best efforts at haste, this ended up being the case anyway. My progress down the dirt path was slowed by the quickly worsening visibility and by the time I reached the cobblestones of the main road the sun had fully set. To make matters worse, this portion of the road was well-shaded by the jungle canopy even at noon so the moon and stars did little to light my way. My one compensation was that once I was on the main road it was a straightforward path back to the Village with no other forks or intersections. Still, I had to go agonizingly slow to avoid tripping on a loose cobble or errant root or wandering off the road. While it’d be obvious enough by the feel of the surface I was walking on if I’d strayed from the path, the prospect of accidentally stumbling into a bush because I hadn’t noticed the road curving wasn’t a pleasant one. Nor was the memory of mention of wild animals sometimes bothering travelers at night.
After what was probably ten or twenty minutes of following the road but felt like hours I heard rough, off-key singing coming from the direction of the Village and saw the bobbing light of a lantern crystal being carried by someone on foot. And so I had my first encounter with a pair of Village guardsmen on night patrol duty. They were clearly as surprised to see me as I was happy to see them. It seems that while these patrols are a nightly occurrence outside of mist nights, they almost never actually find someone in need of assistance.
They asked me what I was doing out here alone at night with no light and if I was alright. Chagrinned, I explained my situation. There was a brief debate over which one would get to escort me back to the Village while the other completed their nocturnal circuit of the main road. It seemed that seniority won out.
The older guardsman was courteous enough on our way back, even excited about the story he’d have to tell the others. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like a child that had been caught by a parent staying up past bedtime. And I’m sure it wasn’t going to help the “Archivist is always getting lost” jokes fall out of fashion any sooner.
At least we got back to the library without incident.
