Dreamworms Book 1: The Advent of Dreamtech by Isaac Petrov (drm ebook reader TXT) 📕

“On the contrary, Overseer Yog. The context is not to be dismissed. Redeemed van Dolah was unduly attacked, and yet she did resist the illicit violence and managed to reach the exit. I doubt any other candidate would have made it under such duress. The Elders Smooks have subverted the spirit of the trial, and as such proved themselves unworthy of the Paths.”

“On the contrary, Walker Rew. There was only one rule: to make it out before others. The Elders Smooks not only fulfilled the goal adequately, but they had the discernment to sacrifice their ranking in the trials in exchange of gaining a tactical advantage over a dangerous rival. That shows an impressive array of high order skills: attentiveness, cunning and forward planning. Skills that shall prove invaluable to our first human Walkers of the Mind. Your human, on the other hand, showed weakness and unpreparedness for the unexpected. Without the assistance of another human, she would have surely missed her qualification.”

“That human who did assist, Man Kraker, is a relative, and thus an extension of herself, not unlike your limbs,” Rew gestures to the three bodies of Yog, “which are an extension of yours. I do fear such human nuisances like family and relations are beyond your comprehension, Overseer Yog. Thus, you shall trust my judgment as human whisperer when I maintain that Redeemed van Dolah’s ability to establish alliances with other humans is one of her key strengths. Which in this case proved indeed critical to her success. Such ability to weave a network of relations shall prove invaluable to our first human Walkers of the Mind.”

“I do fear you overestimate your human’s abilities, Walker Rew. She is weak in her core, broken by fear and trauma, and shall be exposed as such soon enough.”

“I do fear that what you identify as weaknesses are actually strengths, Overseer Yog. And indeed, we shall assess her abilities soon enough.”

Edda’s face is a few inches off Luuk Smook’s smug smile. Her eyes are wide, her frown sharp. Go, girl! Ximena thinks.

“Why?!” she yells, droplets of dream spit scattering across his ugly face.

Luuk’s icy blue eyes remain locked on Edda’s, unperturbed, his lips almost imperceptibly curved.

Ximena catches an abrupt side motion in the corner of her eye.

“Get off his face, bitch!” Mirjam Smook says, as she rams her full weight against Edda’s flank.

Edda falls with violence on the dark stone of the staging permascape. It is painful on her knees, but especially on her soul. Her bafflement, Ximena realizes, swallows the pain in a single gulp. Edda pushes herself up on her knees and turns her head towards Mirjam, her eyes still asking, Why?!

Ximena gasps at the rage she sees in Mirjam’s expression. Her narrow, fierce face, and short, blonde hair remind Ximena of the legend of the Amazon warriors. Her blue eyes seem injected with blood, her glower is murderous. Goah’s Mercy, this is not just rivalry. It’s… hatred.

As Mirjam takes a menacing step towards Edda, two men, running from behind, grab her arms and immobilize her in a tight grip. They are Pieter and—Ximena blinks in disbelief—Gotthard, working as one. Mirjam kicks and pushes, shakes and pulls, curses and yells. She cannot break free, but she is not making it easy.

“Could you please call your dogs off, Redeemed van Dolah?” Luuk asks in his deep, coarse voice. Oh, how Ximena hates that smug smile.

“Why should I?” Edda asks, standing and walking towards him. “Who’s going to stop us from dismembering her, here and now?” Edda turns her face to Mirjam, who glares back at her, panting, but quiet. “Certainly not them.” Edda stretches a hand at the mares, all of whom are watching their interaction. “They look like they want to see some action.”

“I suggest we call a truce,” Luuk says, his smile widening. “We’ve better things to do than fight each other.”

Edda chuckles, shaking her head. “You’ve got balls. Now you go civilized, yeah?”

Luuk smiles at her in silence.

Edda takes a deep breath. Fact is, he is right. “Mensas, thanks. Let her go, yeah? It’s okay. There’s no time for this horseshit.”

The two men grudgingly release Mirjam who walks to her brother, glaring back at Pieter. “You,” she says, “you are a fisherman.”

“I think the smell gave you away, rat boy!” Gotthard says with a chuckle.

“Don’t you have a backbone?” Mirjam asks, eyes locked on Pieter.

Pieter frowns at her in confusion.

“Look at you,” she continues. “You’re pathetic. A word of your master specialists, and you jump to do all sort of tricks for them.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Pieter asks.

“That mensa just insulted you,” she says, pointing at Gotthard. “To your face! And you just take it like that? Where in Goah’s Name is your pride?”

Pieter turns his head at Gotthard, who returns his gaze with a nervous smile. He takes an unconscious step back.

“He’s just an asshole,” Pieter says with a shrug. “Why bother?”

“And that’s the problem.” Mirjam points a finger at Pieter’s face. “That’s the problem, right there! They decide for us, they boss us around, they take all the karma from us, and they work for shit while we work our asses off.”

“They?” Pieter asks. “We?”

“They, the specialists,” Mirjam says. “We, the people.”

“They, the elite,” Luuk says. “We, the oppressed.”

“Oh, I see,” Edda says. She puts a hand on Pieter’s broad shoulder while staring at Luuk. “I think I know why you want to win the Trials. I bet a good ol’ class revolution is on the menu, yeah? What do you mensas have in mind? French style, or you rather go the Russian route?”

“You think you’re so much better than us,” Luuk says, “with your fancy words, your pretty tunic and your soft hands. But you are nothing,” he says the word like it is a curse. “And when the people take power away from your corrupted hands, you’ll be nothing,” he says the word, like it is a promise.

Edda is walking through a forested dreamscape not unlike