The Waking Dreamer (30 page)

Rhiannon stepped away and headed for the forest, turning around once to speak to Amala. “I am very proud of you, Amala. Despite all that has happened between us, I am thankful each day for Oliver Gray … for without him, I never would have found you.”

Before Amala could respond, Rhiannon turned and walked directly into the trees, her hawk turning its head to watch the trio standing together beside a dark, empty highway.

Amala looked down at the ground, her hair falling into her face. Keiran put a hand on her shoulder, and she reached up to touch it with her own.

It was Emmett who broke the initial silence. “Once we get to somewhere
safe
,” he began, motioning with his head in the direction Oliver had walked and presumably could still hear them, “we’ll discuss everything
else
. Okay?”

Amala’s answer was a sudden and tight embrace. Emmett felt her soft skin against his as she held to him.

Emmett saw Keiran staring at him, watching his response. There was no jealousy in his eyes. Emmett allowed himself only a moment’s hesitation before bringing his own arms around her, finally holding the woman of his dreams with nothing between them.

Keiran smiled and placed his hand on the back of Emmett’s neck, firm and comforting with a brotherly love that did not require words to express or convey. It was all that Emmett could do to fully return Amala’s embrace and turn his head toward Keiran, silently mouthing the words he was certain that Keiran already knew.

For the first time in his life, Emmett felt complete, connected to
this
world. He finally understood what joy was—intoxicating and boundless to the expectations and limitations of the mundane world. Overwhelmed by his joy, Emmett did not notice the Hag standing in the distant trees watching them. Or the other Old Ones in the forest—powerful, fearsome beings of eons past whose names had been long since forgotten to myth and legend—who had all come to silently bear witness to The Grinning Man’s eternal banishment at the hands of the apocalyptic Waking Dreamer.

CHAPTER 30

A heavy, laden sleep overtook Emmett as their plane’s ascent breeched the dawn’s stretch of clouds to cross the morning horizon. It was the first time that he fell asleep without any effort. No visions or cryptic dreams came to him in his first true sleep since being healed of the Rot the day before.

He continued to sleep and think of the spiraling world around him as their plane descended and the cabin lights turned on with the usual warning spiels. Keiran roused him with a nudge and a plastic cup of ice water. It was almost stinging in its temperature, forcing his eyes open with a suddenness that was actually refreshing. He was awake fully, perhaps for the first time in weeks. For the first time, indeed, in his life.

It was this new life that his mind immediately focused on. Shaken though they all were, Amala had found a measure of comfort in the Archivist’s instructions. Keiran, of course, accepted her confidence as his own, bounding about with the same jovial charm that Emmett had experienced when waking in Silvan Dea in Portland.

Emmett found that even now, on occasion his hand would absently trail the renewed flesh along his neck and chest where the Rot had once been, feeling the odd twitch or spasm as a shadow of the pain that had sorely snaked along his torso. Healed though he was and returned to some form of obscurity from those who had once pursued him, Emmett seemed nevertheless accepting of the Archivist’s plain issuance: that his journey was only just beginning, and it was their journey, too. He was important in ways he did not fully
understand
and yet somehow
understood
.

For what final purpose he could not say, and yet without knowing the finality of it all, he nonetheless felt a stirring pride, a desire to live a life whose purpose was greater than his abilities. It was a longing that challenged him, the voice of a kindly old man present in his thoughts:
I try my best. I don’t know if it’s good enough, but it’s all I can do. Someday soon, I’ll be going home to be with my wife and daughter, and if I can measure up halfway to the lives they led, I’ll feel okay about standing in their shadow.

Purpose swelled in his heart, fed by passion that burned in his soul. It was a thirst that could only be sated by living, truly living. It wasn’t in movies or work or the everyday life. True living was inconvenient. It necessitated effort. It was found in the moments when breathing required deliberate focus. It derived from purpose when lives were robbed of joy, and yet somehow, quite inexplicably and beyond what anyone believed was possible, it persevered and survived with meaning and intention.

Life finally felt as if it had to be
earned
before it could be truly experienced … where life, for all its hidden mysteries and wonders, was intrinsically
alien
.

“All right?” Keiran nudged Emmett just as Amala was leaning across the aisle and appearing to check to see if their seatbelts were both fastened.

“Yeah,” Emmett said as he rubbed his eyes again. Lost in introspection, Emmett had not been listening to Keiran talking to him about their first plans once they landed. The pilot was wishing them a Happy Holidays just as the flight crew began to inspect the cabin in preparation for landing.

“So we’re in agreement, then? Take care of the particularities and then a spot of shopping before we fly out, aye?” He was leaning toward Emmett in a hushed whisper, and he knew that this meant that Keiran wanted Emmett’s agreement before telling Amala, for it was likely that she would not approve otherwise.

Keiran loved Amala; that much was obvious. Emmett evoked in Keiran a childlike playfulness like a brother conspiring with his younger sibling to play some practical joke. That Amala seemed to regard their interaction with passivity rather than irritation encouraged Keiran all the more. Only Emmett would see that when Keiran had his back to Amala, she would look down with the briefest smirk to herself that Emmett was uncertain if she intended for him to see or not.

“If we’re flying to Brazil, I daresay a basic trundle of goods would be in order, don’t you? I’m not suggesting a full wardrobe, mind you, but a proper selection at the very least, mate. You agree with me that a few hours for shopping would be beneficial, yes? Because I think Amala would appreciate hearing you agree with me on this point. You’ll tell her, Em, yes?”

Emmett never ceased to be amazed at Keiran’s own boundless enthusiasm. He had overhead Nancy calling him “Em” over the phone and had adopted it himself ever since. It was a testament of who Keiran had become to Emmett that the nickname no longer bothered him.

He had called Nancy from the local airport the three had caught a ride to. Amala purchased a disposable cell phone for him, and Emmett had blocked the call so Nancy would not see he was not calling from Ormond Beach. He told her how he was settled quite comfortably with a job and an apartment and the promise of schooling in the spring and all other manner of things that Nancy found both reassuring and placating.

The call was the first step in what Amala referred to as the Sundering, the process of separating oneself from the world and truly embracing the Song. The Sundering meant that a new Druid or Bard would say good-bye to their former life and experience a rebirth, with new awareness and openness to unknown possibilities. Amala was firm that Emmett would undergo the Sundering, Annie not having fully done so, which led to her death. Amala wouldn’t have that happen again. Not to Emmett.

That the Archivist had not explicitly stated that Emmett was to be made a Bard but rather that his journey was now one with Amala and Keiran’s satisfied Amala that he would be made a member of Silvan Dea, a Grove that, if all others were dead, would still exist and survive in them. That Amala said this to Emmett with the same pride and conviction as Keiran’s proclamation to the Hag made Emmett swell with even greater conviction.

She began to explain the process almost immediately as they waited for Keiran to flag down a passing truck out on that highway in the Appalachian Mountains. Amala had looked at him with an expression of warmth and pride as they stood together in the silent dawning hours of a crisp December morning.

“You will need to say good-bye to everything that composed your life, Emmett: family, friends, places. Everything that defined who you once were must be removed. Your presence puts them in danger now.”

“So where do we begin?” Emmett had asked as he saw Keiran waving at them, for a motorist had pulled onto the shoulder.

“You tell me,” she said with a smile.

He heard Derrick in his mind.
I do miss that beautiful smile of hers
.

Emmett answered without having to pause for thought. He knew where he had to go to begin his journey, their journey. Had he been alone in the world, nothing could have caused him to return. With Keiran and Amala now, Emmett knew there was nothing that he could not face. For he was never truly alone, after all.

“Detroit,” he answered just as Keiran called out for them to hurry and get in the waiting vehicle. “There’s one person I need to say good-bye to.”

As their plane taxied into the terminal, a gray, overcast morning welcomed Emmett back to Detroit. As they deplaned, Keiran insisted to Amala that he considered it to be utterly barbaric and cruel—“quite uncivilized,” he repeated three times—to force Emmett to begin the Sundering without proper attire before their journey. Only when she finally agreed did Keiran stop insisting that the outing was quite appropriate and reasonable for Emmett’s sake.

None took notice of the trio that seemed to glide with ease down the concourse; alert and vigilant the amber-eyed beauty, confident and jovial the angular-faced young man, and bemused and windswept the seemingly fragile boy who had faced death more than once and bested it each time.

The harsh, fluorescent lights and monotonous announcements of the airport terminal washed the throngs of travelers in a sea of noise. The noise and light caused Keiran to flinch and Amala to don sunglasses. Perhaps he had always been sensitive to it, or perhaps something else had changed in him already, but Emmett found himself flinching, too.

They took a taxi from the airport out onto the twisting, clogged arteries. When they arrived at the Renaissance Center on Keiran’s insistence, an amused Emmett and Amala tagged behind as Keiran abandoned all pretense that they were there for Emmett and hurried between designer shops with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. The air was filled with the haunting chorus of “What Child Is This,” and all around Emmett was the flurry of last-minute shoppers hurrying for gifts for Christmas Eve parties later that evening.

“An entirely new wardrobe for a Brazilian New Year, yes? Oh, nothing flashy, I promise. Something appropriate for the climate,” Keiran said. “The fact is that we have no idea what grand adventures we have before us now that our pair has become a trio. I think at least two dozen or so different outfits with some seasonably appropriate accessories would be required.”

“Emmett and I will leave you here if you insist on bringing that much, Keiran,” Amala said, her dark features able to convey an appropriate degree of seriousness despite the minor smile that she tried to hide on her face.

“Oh, honestly, I’m only thinking of Emmett. The boy would spend his life in denim if permitted. I think not, Amala. We could be down in Brazil for months. We could even be there for
Carnaval
. Oh, we must take him if we are still down there, Amala! He would positively love it!”

“I’m picturing Keiran shirtless on a float in silver glitter paint,” Emmett said.

“Perhaps gold, thank you,” Keiran deadpanned.

“I think you’re forgetting that ever since that last little episode—”

“I knew you’d bring that up again, Amala. Every time you mention it. How many times must I apologize for that?” Keiran interrupted.

“—you are banned from ever stepping foot in Rio again. If you do, you can find yourself a new Companion,” Amala laughed as Keiran waved dismissively at her.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter because everyone knows that the true fun is in Bahia, anyway. You can be as stodgy and insufferable as you wish so long as you stay at home. I can take Emmett with me and we’ll have a grand time.”

“Don’t think you won’t regret that,” Amala warned Emmett with a smile. “If you value your sleep at all.”

“The insomniac worried about sleep? Really?” Emmett snarked, to which Amala laughed.

“Ignore her. Remind me, Em, to take you to this gorgeous little eatery that overlooks the Bay of All Saints down in Salvador. This wonderful woman I know makes the most incredible
vatapá
you will ever have in your life. Marvelous blend of shrimp, coconut milk, and African palm oil. It’s quite immense, really. Otherworldly. Pure heaven, mate.”

Keiran bounded into another clothing store and set the staff into motion with his presence. Emmett was already thinking of Emaline Carmichael as Amala leaned toward him with a whisper. “He has little old women in practically every city on every continent,” she said seriously with a raised eyebrow that made Emmett laugh.

They joined him in the store, and Emmett listened as Keiran continued to promise to show him all the best of wherever they traveled: the sorts of hidden, tucked-away gems that only people who valued the local culture could truly experience or appreciate. Amala spent most of her time teasing him as he alternated between acting emotionally wounded or completely unaffected.

Emmett enjoyed the casualness that they shared now that the pressing need of curing Emmett of the Rot or alerting Silvan Dea of an impending attack was passed.

After Amala stopped for morning drinks for the three of them, Keiran continued to lead them to different boutique stores throughout the morning. Always it was the same experience. Emmett and Amala would sit quietly on a bench and watch as he bounded through the store, reminding them often that he was there for them, of course, sorting through various outfits arranged and brought to him by the attentive store clerks. That he was the center of attention of every store’s employees was enough to make both Amala and Emmett chuckle as he turned heads wherever they went.