The Waking Dreamer

by J. E. Alexander

  “It’s not my place to intrude in that, brother. That is for you, and I still respect our people’s ways. Let me say at least that in the past few centuries, darkness has spread farther than at any other point in human history. This dismissive attitude on the part of mankind is precisely the reason for it.”

  Sebastian shifted his considerable size on the narrow bench to look squarely at Emmett. “Have they told you what the first ritual of an Underdweller summoning is?”

  “We’ve only just eaten, brother.”

  “No, they haven’t,” Emmett answered. He wanted to support Keiran, and he knew Keiran did not want to have the conversation with Sebastian present. Yet images from the Silvan Dea attack still drifted through his mind in the silent moments when no one was speaking to him. Emmett could not bear it any longer, hoping some kind of meaning would give him closure.

  “An infant’s blood. If I told you the manner in which it was collected, you’d beg me to tell you it was a lie.”

  “Oh, do we have to do this tonight? Honestly,” Keiran sighed.

  “But it isn’t a lie, and it’s done worldwide. There are twelve other rituals—thirteen acts so foul, so unnatural, that you couldn’t bear knowing.”

  “Is there a point to this?” Keiran asked, watching Emmett’s face twist in disgust.

  “Not acting leads to countless deaths.”

  “And you believe that it’s our fault, then? That we are to blame?”

  “‘To her is given the Dance, and to him is given the Voice, and by the Song they guide and comfort the Children in Darkness and Light,’” Sebastian recited.

  Keiran’s shaking head hung low in his hands. “The Song is lost when we abandon our beliefs, Sebastian. ‘Life is a tapestry woven by hands we cannot see and composed of notes that we cannot create.’ See? I can quote ikkibu just like you. It is the first of our teachings that we cannot force that which we do not control.”

  “You believe that with complete certainty?” Sebastian dismissed.

  “Faith does not require that I understand. Only that I believe.”

  “At what cost do you pay for the comfort that comes with blind obedience?”

  “A high cost, to be certain. But one I am prepared to pay, for the alternative is one I could not afford.”

  “You’re not the one who pays it,” Sebastian said. “Ellie and Emmett do. And Paulo. Show me how your faith will bring him back.” With these words, Sebastian’s expression solidified the pure essence of their disagreement.

  Emmett was afraid the tension would boil over if Sebastian’s posture was any indication. The first mention of the Great Preclusion brought the anger right to the surface. His brother’s death seemed to serve as a catalyst for everything he must have already been feeling. Without a target he could channel his anger toward, Keiran had become a viable option by default.

  Keiran lowered his voice and looked on his friend with a calm expression. “I will not presume to understand what the loss of your brother is, Sebastian. I will not abandon my beliefs. You will not abandon yours. That is why we always reach a stalemate when we have this discussion.”

  Emmett was certain that Sebastian was preparing to say something more, perhaps some kind of statement that, though well-intentioned in Sebastian’s mind to win over Keiran or even Emmett to his beliefs, would bring him into further conflict with Keiran. He knew that he had to do or say something.

  “How long before we reach the Lighthouse?” Emmett offered, hoping to avert their attention.

  It was only the reappearance of the server pausing one foot from the table with a tray of wrapped food that caused them to relent.

  “The evening after next, I would say,” Keiran finally answered, deliberately looking up at the server as if to force Sebastian to as well.

  “Thank you. My friend here will pay for the food,” Sebastian said without breaking eye contact with Keiran. The server set the food down and hurried away.

  “The sandwiches look good,” Emmett observed, trying to find some way to bring the abruptness of the moment to a softening close.

  “Indeed. I should think that Ellie is waiting for her food, yes?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian said slowly. He grabbed the food in one hand and stood, never breaking eye contact with Keiran. Emmett held his breath, half-expecting that the two Bards would break into a physical exchange if any other words were spoken.

  “Enjoy your conversation. I trust you will guide Emmett with the same honesty and truth as when you were guided by Oliver,” he said, finally turning away without saying good-bye to either of them as he walked out of the dining car.

  Only after the door closed behind him did Keiran blink, and Emmett felt the apprehension straining through his body relax with an audible sigh. A moment’s pause revealed a wounded expression, as if Sebastian had just said something that was more personally hurtful than any other words could be.

  “Yeah, that just happened,” Emmett quipped, trying to lighten the moment with humor. “This thing between you guys has got to stop.”

  The rigidity in Keiran’s countenance did not lessen, though Emmett could see he made a considerable effort to refocus his attention on Emmett. “It’s a sign of my exhaustion that I didn’t hear his approach. Heaven knows the man has an audible walk.”

  “Did his brother feel the same way?” Emmett asked. “Paulo? Did he question the Great Preclusion, too? Or is it possible there was disagreement between them as there is between you two?”

  “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know Paulo as well as Sebastian. And again, I love Sebastian as my brother. However, if you asked me if I trusted his judgment in this matter, if I would place my own faith in Dr. Hazrat’s teachings, I would say a resounding no. And Sebastian knows that.”

  “And that’s why he’s so angry. Because he thinks he’s earned your trust.”

  “Yes.”

  Because he lied for you to protect you in the Himalayas.

  Emmett drew a long breath, considering the weight of Keiran’s words. “I guess that explains why you were so hesitant to go to the Lighthouse in the first place.”

  “I can’t guarantee that we’re not escaping one bad situation and entering another trying one,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

  “But it’s not like we’re in any actual danger going there, right?”

  Keiran shook his head. “These are the Children after all, and if any were more zealous in their hatred of dark magiks, it is those at the Lighthouse. Silvan Dea was a place for contemplation and recuperation. Dr. Hazrat minds his Grove like a bloody fortress.”

  “How comforting,” Emmett remarked, an image of a lone prison built on a craggy island conjured unbidden in his mind.

  “Anyway, a few hours of sleep would do us all good, I think. But there is one more important thing I must say to you before we return, Emmett.”

  Emmett finished his hot chocolate and nodded. “Shoot.”

  “Amala would normally guide you through this process, but seeing as how she is not here, you are left with my rather fumbling ministrations.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about, K.”

  “When the Archivist contacts you, she may take one of many different forms: a whisper on the wind, words in the clouds; that sort of thing. Remember everything that you experience, and no matter what happens, tell no one. Not even Sebastian or Ellie.”

  “Got it.”

  You people with your secrets.

  Keiran extracted cash from his pocket and left it for their server before they returned to their compartment. Emmett saw the look of relief on Keiran’s face when they found Sebastian and Ellie already fast asleep in their separate bunks.

  “Sleep well,” Keiran said.

  “Yeah, you too,” Emmett said, feeling a detached sense of foreboding as he watched Keiran wedge a block under the door handle.

  CHAPTER 15

  Keiran had waited for Emmett to close the curtain to his narrow bunk before turning in. Only when he
allowed himself to peek from behind the corner of the shade did Emmett see that Keiran had left his halfway open, his eyes mostly closed with his face turned toward him.

  Emmett rested on his back with his legs crossed and hands behind his head. The low ceiling of the cubby did nothing to alleviate his claustrophobia, but he closed his eyes with several steadying breaths. He spent several minutes sleepless on his back, several more on his side, finally turning onto his stomach with his face buried in his pillow.

  Just relax already. His thoughts were a swirl of images and questions, the low background hum of the moving train spreading a great canvas before him as he wrestled to gain control of the orchestra and bring silence to his mind’s coliseum.

  As he struggled to not struggle with sleep, he continued to catalogue sounds: wheels turning on the tracks; low, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep; soft, patterned snoring; creaking floorboards as someone walked outside their compartment.

  After some time—how long he did not know—Emmett felt the watery curtain of unconsciousness slipping over him. An aspect of his mind felt uncomfortably anchored high above him, still counting each revolution of the train’s wheels along the tracks and still tumbling through images of Druids and Bards locked in deadly combat with Underdwellers and Revenants in a world he no longer recognized.

  First time on a train. I might as well enjoy it.

  Sighing with frustration, he rubbed his eyes and quietly got up. He slowly drew the door open, stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind him.

  Emmett walked down the train corridor, pausing as he felt a prickling feeling on the back of his neck. His mind registered that something odd had passed him in the window. When he turned and looked, he saw nothing but darkness.

  What was that? Taking a tentative step, he leaned into the row of empty seats and brought his face within several feet of the window.

  Was that a face?

  He saw it again in the corner of his eye, a muted image in the window. He recoiled, banging his head against the seat. He forced himself to look, and then he saw it: a face staring back at him.

  What the hell?

  He saw blue eyes and blond hair staring mutely back at him in the window. A petite, pretty face. Ellie’s face. Her reflection moved with him, her hand brushing against her cheeks as he raised his hand to his face; her lips agape as Emmett stared back at his reflection.

  The floor lurched forward, and Emmett fell on the ground. He opened his eyes to darkness. Urgency sounded in his mind. He wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t see. Survival overrode his confusion, and his eyes pushed open as his mouth tried to gasp for air. In the moment’s chaos, his brain quickly identified a hand firmly covering his mouth.

  They found me! They’re trying to kill me!

  Instinct brought his hands and legs up, but something stronger held his body down. Another pair of hands grasped his shoulders. Restraint. Firm, yet not painful. He tried biting down, but the hand moved underneath his chin and cupped his jaw, closing his mouth.

  As his eyes moved wildly around the room, irises engorged, an explosion of what little light was available flooded his vision. Focusing, he saw two figures hunched over him: a deeply tanned, hulking man, and a second, fair-skinned younger man whose green eyes were staring directly into his.

  “Bloody calm down,” Keiran hissed as Sebastian wrested control of his body. Only now could Emmett see him in the semi-darkness enough to see he was back in their private compartment. He ceased struggling, and Keiran and Sebastian immediately released him.

  The emergency red lights along the floor suddenly alit, casting the Bards in a foreboding glow. They held their heads aloft with closed eyes, listening acutely to the growing commotion within the train. Then both Bards opened their eyes.

  Sebastian held three fingers up.

  Keiran shook his head, holding five fingers up.

  “She may not be,” Sebastian said cryptically, to which Keiran shook his head.

  Emmett made an exaggerated waving motion. “What’s going on?”

  “The train stopped,” Keiran whispered. “You fell out of your bunk making strange noises. We couldn’t wake you.”

  I was dreaming. Without remembering falling asleep. Again?

  “Revenants,” Sebastian whispered. “And Ellie’s gone.” Sebastian drew himself to his full height in the small compartment. “I will draw them away to the west. Take Emmett east to the Lighthouse.”

  “No! We go together,” Keiran corrected.

  “I won’t run,” Sebastian said, and even Emmett saw the grave look on his face. “Not this time, Keiran. Not again.”

  Keiran looked down at the floor with an expression of acceptance before standing and rolling up his sleeve to reveal his heavily inked forearm as Sebastian did the same. Together, each grasped the other by their forearm, the tattoos’ patterns seemingly joined together.

  “The Song lifts us,” Keiran whispered.

  “And guides the Children home,” Sebastian responded with equal reverence.

  They released each other’s arms, and Sebastian nodded once at Emmett before turning and opening the compartment door. Stepping out into the corridor, he looked down each direction before disappearing.

  Emmett felt nauseous, not from Revenant proximity, but the hollowness one felt knowing someone was going out to meet death on his behalf. The burden left him sick.

  Keiran reached underneath his bunk’s covers, withdrawing a blunt pipe the length of his forearm. “You may have to defend yourself,” he said, pushing it into Emmett’s shaking hands.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “It’s from a storm drain back at the Portland train station. It’s pure iron.”

  Emmett stared dumbly as he looked back and forth between Keiran and the pipe in his hands, feeling both inept and absurd. Keiran grabbed his elbow and drew him to his body, leading him out the compartment into a rush of confused, rising voices.

  A tremendous scream pierced the train. Keiran’s head turned down the opposite corridor just as the crashing sound of running passengers thundered through the train.

  “They’ll kill everyone on the train. We have to get off right now!”

  “What about the passengers?”

  “You are my only priority!” Keiran yelled back as he winced in obvious discomfort.

  A blaring emergency siren exploded in their ears, and down the corridor Emmett heard the wail of passengers as confusion gave way to chaos.

  The corridors swelled with frightened, half-awake passengers. Keiran pushed past them, dragging Emmett along. An explosion rocked through the train, followed by the gnawing sound of metal grating against metal. The floor shook violently, toppling passengers over each other.

  “Fire!” a woman screamed.

  Keiran and Emmett turned to see the orange glow of flames outside of the train’s windows. Passengers trampled over others. Keiran pushed Emmett against the wall, using his body to shield him from the stampede.

  Emmett’s ears filled with the wailing cries of children and terrified adults. They had no way of knowing what was coming for them.

  “Keiran, we’ve got to do something!”

  “I gave Amala my word. I can’t save everyone!”

  Another explosion rocked stopped the car, nearly knocking it off the tracks. An unsettling howl bayed into the night, followed by another dark call that rose above the screaming passengers and twisting flames crackling outside.

  The exit was several feet from them, but with so many people trampling over each another, Emmett knew they could not reach it. Keiran put his open palm against a window and, growling, shattered the glass outward in a fine, powdery dust.

  Abandoning any attempts at remaining hidden, Keiran stuck his head outside before turning around to grab Emmett by his shoulder. He pushed Emmett out as other passengers fought toward the window. Falling several feet to the wet grass below, Keiran landed beside Emmett and pulled him to his feet.

  Chaos reigned as s
creaming passengers poured from the burning train. Emmett could see that the rear car’s explosion had heaved it clear off of the track and left it skewed along the ground in a path of burning wreckage and warped metal.

  A woman pleaded in the distance for her lost child as another man pulled an older passenger limply from the wreckage. Two men huddled over a collapsed pregnant woman whose hysterical sobbing could not be controlled. Passengers in states of visible shock limped away nursing injuries. Someone was crying as they tried to call on a phone that wouldn’t work for them; another absently stood with a blank face, trying and seemingly unable to take pictures with their cell phone of a collapsed, bleeding passenger who moaned on the ground.

  “My God,” Emmett whispered, horrified by the chaos.

  “It’s not sodding over,” Keiran said hastily, scanning the crowds of people.

  Emmett’s head turned with Keiran’s as another howl sounded far in the distance, a preternatural, tearing sound that pierced the crackling sounds of flame and cries of wounded and frightened passengers. An older gentleman sitting mutely on the ground near them holding his hand to the side of his bleeding face did not even move or take notice as the animal’s wail sounded again.

  A shrieking cry drew everyone’s attention as someone staggered from the back of the wreckage. Someone was limping, cradling their opposite arm, and calling out for help. Several passengers responded and began running toward the figure, including the older gentleman sitting near Emmett.

  “No,” Keiran said as his hand shot out to stop the man.

  Another passenger reached the flailing victim first. With an arm outstretched to help them, the victim responded with a lunge and snarl toward their rescuer, the cradled arm arcing in a backward slash with a long machete that glinted in the surrounding fire’s glow. The sickening sound of severed flesh rent the air as the rescuer fell backward with a gurgling plea for help.

  A moment of stunned silence was drowned in pandemonium as fear gripped the frightened passengers. The robed figure cried out as he sliced downward with a vicious hacking of his machete on his fallen victim, his face sprayed with a sheet of brilliant red as the nauseating sound of metal on bone tore the air.