Uprising

by Gareth Otton

  Uprising

  Book 4 of the Dreams of Reality

  Gareth Otton

  Copyright © 2020 Gareth Otton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2020 by Gareth Otton, all rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author.

  Cover design by Gareth Otton

  ISBN:

  9798564863872

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other books in the Dreams of Reality series:

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Other books in the Dreams of Reality series:

  PROXY

  NIGHTMARES

  DREAMCATCHERS

  Prologue

  Saturday, 06th August 2016

  22:00

  The Brecon Beacons may be modest compared to truly great mountain ranges, but they impressed Jacob regardless. Lush greenery covered their peaks, creating views that were as breathtaking on Jacob’s twentieth visit as they were on his first. Certainly a far cry from the potholed streets of his home. He wasn’t here for the view though, and reluctantly he tore his gaze from the tranquil beauty and looked down the mountainside.

  Fifteen dreamwalkers surrounded a monstrous shadow. On this mild summer night, without a cloud in the sky, that ephemeral darkness was stark contrast to the moonlit mountain. Twenty feet tall and half as wide, the words ‘King Kong’ came to mind, though a second set of arms marred the comparison.

  “What is that?” questioned a voice from Jacob’s right. It was young enough that Jacob felt guilty for bringing him here, but old enough that most societies would count him a man. Jacob couldn’t afford to be picky when recruiting for the cause.

  “A nightmare,” Jacob answered, but the boy’s gasp as the nightmare swung a massive claw at the nearest dreamwalker drowned him out.

  The dreamwalker waved his hand and called to Dream, conjuring gale force winds that buffeted the nightmare. But this was no creature of flesh and bone, and the wind had no more effect than it would on a shadow. Its vicious claw struck the dreamwalker and sent him flying.

  “How did it ignore that wind?” the youthful voice asked.

  “It’s a nightmare,” Jacob answered, drawing on his years of teaching-experience to keep the annoyance from his voice. This was a concept every dreamwalker should grasp instinctively. “When it comes to Dream, you can’t rely on the laws of nature.”

  “Ease up on the boy. Don’t forget you needed Tad to show you that,” whispered a voice in his mind. It was the voice of his twin brother Joseph, three years dead thanks to a drunk driver who added another tragedy to the multitude that plagued Jacob’s life.

  Jacob preferred his brother by his side, but recently he had been spending more time merged with him. He needed strength more than companionship, and with the fate of all dreamwalkers resting on his shoulders, sacrifices were necessary.

  Down the mountain, the nightmare used all four arms, swatting at dreamwalkers like flies while they tried different tricks to defend themselves. One man adopted the properties of shadow, so the hand passed through him harmlessly. Another turned his skin to stone and stood his ground, but size wasn’t on his side and he too went flying. One woman showed the best sense of them all and dreamwalked away.

  Only Sandra, a seventeen-year-old cheerleader, actually harmed the creature. She rubbed her palms together, then used Dream to turn the heat of that friction into a fireball that cut through the shadow like she was cutting through putty.

  The nightmare howled and withdrew, but like all cornered animals, its injury made it more dangerous.

  “It’ll kill them,” whispered the youthful voice, and Jacob looked at his companion.

  The boy made Sandra look old, but there were wisps of fluff on his top lip. He tucked his black, greasy hair behind ears that stuck out like satellite dishes, lending him a continually surprised look.

  “It might,” Jacob answered. “But that’s the danger we’re here to face, you included.”

  The boy jumped away, frightened Jacob would sacrifice him to the nightmare.

  “I don’t want to fight that,” he blurted, fear making his voice quiver.

  “He’s too young,” Joseph repeated.

  Jacob ignored his brother and placed his hand upon the boy’s shoulder, offering him a friendly smile.

  “No, you don’t want to fight it, you want to destroy it, right? You want the power to snap your fingers and banish that nightmare so it can never harm another soul. You want to keep people safe, don’t you, Lucius? People like your sisters. What would you do if they faced something like that?”

  The boy hesitated before admitting, “I couldn’t fight it. It’s so big.”

  “Did Tad care about size when he took down that purple nightmare in Bristol? Or when he faced a horde of dragons, or cut a tidal wave in half?”

  “But he’s The Dreamwalker,” Lucius complained.

  “We’re all dreamwalkers. We just have to learn the same lessons. That means practice. We face nightmares like that until they’re no more threat than a butterfly to a rhino. It takes courage, but it means you never have to worry for your sisters again. No nightmare or person could ever threaten them if you can stop something like that. This is how we get strong. This is how we stay safe.”

  The young man glanced back down the mountainside and took a deep breath to control himself.

  “What do I need to do?” he asked.

  Jacob grinned and tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder.

  “That courage took you one step closer to true power.” He let the boy swell with pride, then asked, “Do you remember the footage of the Dreamcatcher fight? How Tad used a beam of light to cut a nightmare in half? Well, that creature is formed of shadow. It’s why the only thing that’s hurt it so far is Sandra’s fire. I think what Tad did that day was use fire in its purest form, don’t you agree?” Lucius nodded. “Then why don’t you try it? Banish that creature and save their lives.”

  “But… That’s pure creation. I don’t know how Tad did that.”

  Me neither, Jacob thought bitterly.

  “If Tad can do it, so can we. We’re dreamwalkers. There’s nothing one can do that another can’t.”

  “Then why aren’t they doing it?”

  “Being able to do something doesn’t mean we should rely on it,” Jacob said, sidestepping the truth that none of them could recreate Tad’s trick. “We need to try various methods of using our gift, grow stronger in ways unique to us. Falling back on the familiar doesn’t help us be creative.
But you’ve never done it before and it’s a wonderful trick to learn.”

  The boy cast a nervous glance at the battle. There were less than half the original number of dreamwalkers remaining, and they were losing this fight. Sandra and a few others held the creature at bay, but their fire tricks weren’t doing permanent damage.

  “Okay, I’ll try,” Lucius said. “But I don’t know how.”

  “That’s okay. That’s what we’re here for, to learn and practice. Now, you brought your ghosts like I asked?” The boy nodded, confirming he had merged with his three ghosts. “Good. I want you to use their strength to pull over more Dream than ever before. This might hurt, but don’t let that stop you. Imagine a beam of light obliterating that monster and make it real.”

  Again Lucius hesitated.

  “Hurry. They don’t have long.”

  Shaking, the boy focused on the nightmare that batted yet another dreamwalker aside.

  “This is cruel,” Joseph protested. “He’s too young.”

  “We have to try,” Jacob replied. “If we can’t match what Tad can do, how can we ever make this work? The world needs a reason to take us seriously.”

  “But you’ll hurt the boy,” Joseph protested.

  “Pain isn’t forever, and it’s for a good cause,” Jacob answered as Lucius’ brow creased into a pained frown and his body trembled. Jacob wanted to urge him on, but didn’t want to break his concentration.

  Suddenly, Lucius raised his right arm, fist clenched tight. Jacob forgot to breathe.

  Leaking between Lucius’ fingers was light, so bright Jacob could see the bones beneath his skin.

  It worked, he thought. Finally, we’ve found someone who—

  The thought ended as the light vanished. Lucius screamed and collapsed into a trembling heap on the floor, and Jacob lost his cool.

  Swearing so loudly that even the battling dreamwalkers jumped in surprise, he turned from the boy and looked for something to kick. Not finding anything, he turned his anger on the giant shadow that was taking advantage of Jacob’s distraction.

  Trembling with months of pent up tension, Jacob fumbled through his pocket and pulled his smartphone free, activating the torch and calling Dream. In his anger he drew on the vast ocean of possibility with too much vigour and focused all that energy on the small LED light on the back of his phone.

  It was like daylight had returned to the mountain, banishing the darkness without mercy. The shadow nightmare was washed away like it never existed. It only lasted a second before night reclaimed the mountainside and silence reigned.

  Jacob’s vision swam from using too much Dream, and he trembled from the outpouring of anger and frustration.

  “Feel better now you’ve blinded everyone?” Joseph asked.

  Jacob didn’t answer. He doubted he’d blinded anyone. With all the fire being thrown around, people’s eyes were adjusted. However, he did feel better. He had been holding that tension for far too long, and the boy’s failure had been too much.

  How did Tad do it?

  They all had access to the same resources, but somehow he was always one step ahead. Jacob needed to discover his secrets because time was running out.

  Ever since the Merging, the world was changing. It left the powerful people in this world scrambling to maintain their power, creating a stampede that would trample anything in its path. If the dreamwalkers weren’t ready when it got here, they’d be trampled too.

  Jacob refused to let that happen. For the first time in his life he’d found his people, found his place in society, and found his purpose. He had to protect that, and as the old saying went, the best defence is a good offence.

  Soon they needed to act. With luck, Tad would see sense and stand with them. However, Jacob couldn’t risk everything on that. If the worst came to pass, they had to stand against him which meant learning his tricks and inventing some of their own.

  In control of himself again, Jacob turned back to the sobbing boy and his awed people who were rubbing their eyes against his magical light. His actions tonight had been those of a child throwing a tantrum. He let the boy wallow in pain rather than comfort him and risked injuring his people rather than teaching them how to help themselves.

  I need to do better, he told himself. His people were relying on him, and he couldn’t let them down.

  He just needed to take a breath, regroup, and start rebuilding. First with the dreamwalkers here tonight, then with any others he could bring to the cause, and he’d build himself the only thing the superpowers of the world respected; an army.

  Then he’d show the world that dreamwalkers were strong, and he’d lead his people to safety.

  ◆◆◆

  Thursday, 01st September 2016

  11:05

  Dorothea Galanis looked up at the giant building and wanted to leave.

  She hated coming to Athens, hated the constant movement and never ending rush. While her beloved island home had not escaped the technological revolution of the twentieth century, Hydra kept its soul. It remembered what it had been and was respectful. This city couldn’t claim the same, and this building was the epitome of that.

  Five-hundred foot tall, the angular glass monstrosity was the tallest building in Athens. Only six months old, it was the talk of the city. Directly in the centre of Athens, its six sides that twisted continuously as the tower ascended, looked out over the city and dominated the skyline. They’d called it New Olympus, and Dorothea was as disgusted by the name as she was with the tower.

  This was everything her people were supposed to fight. That an Eidolon had built it made her glad her husband wasn’t alive to see this. His feelings wouldn’t manifest as anything so mild as disgust.

  However, she had been summoned, and couldn’t ignore that.

  The reception was ultra modern with black stone flooring polished to mirror perfection, leather clad chairs with silver trim in the waiting area, giant TVs embedded into every flat surface, and an arced desk chiselled from a single piece of slate. Six receptionists stood behind that desk, busy with guests and computers. One of them noticed her entrance and his eyes widened. His visitor was forgotten as he headed straight for her.

  “Mrs Galanis. Welcome to New Olympus,” he said, talking fast. “Mr Masalis said to bring you up immediately. Please follow me.”

  The man he’d so rudely abandoned looked awed when the name Masalis was mentioned. Dorothea shook her head. Some things would never change.

  The receptionist led her to a spacious elevator that opened at their approach as though expecting them. Once inside, he pressed the top button and provided his finger print when prompted.

  “How was your trip?” he asked.

  “Long and hot,” Dorothea answered, not giving the conversation room to grow. The receptionist took the hint and turned his attention to the LED screen that showed an ascending series of numbers. The elevator moved quickly, so the awkward silence didn’t last long.

  “Please follow me,” the receptionist said as the doors opened and he stepped into another stone-floored hallway filled with yet more enormous screens. Accompanying the technology were sculptures and paintings that belonged in a museum. Historians around the world would sell their souls to glimpse some of these artworks.

  Determined not to be impressed by such ostentation, Dorothea barely spared them a glance.

  The young man grew nervous as he approached the only pair of doors beside the elevator. He knocked, making Dorothea smile. For all their technology, people still knocked on doors.

  “Enter,” boomed an enormous voice.

  Dorothea’s smile vanished.

  With shaking fingers, the young man opened the door and revealed what Dorothea could only describe as a ballroom. It wasn’t actually a ballroom, but an office. However, its size couldn’t be summed up by such a small word. It covered an entire floor, and five of the six walls were made of glass, providing an amazing view over the city.

  “Mrs Galanis, sir.”

&
nbsp; “Ah, Dorothea, my old friend. How good to see you. Thank you Alexander, you can go.”

  Dorothea turned toward a voice she hadn’t heard since her husband’s funeral thirty years earlier. On the other side of the room, past the sofas and yet more artwork, a tall man stood behind a desk that was every bit as grand as the room containing it. Unlike the room, this desk was ancient. Made from pristine, white marble, a better name for it might be an altar. Beautiful carvings of ancient gods were carved into the stone with such skill that it made Michaelangelo’s work look like the scratchings of a child.

  Rumour had it the desk belonged to Zeus himself. Whether there was truth to that, Dorothea didn’t know nor care. However, the man behind the desk cared so much he had styled his appearance after the ancient deity.

  Over six foot tall, broad of the shoulder and inhumanly handsome beneath that glossy black beard and curly hair, he looked like an Olympian of old. The finely tailored black suit accentuated his impressive physique, and Dorothea couldn’t help being awed in his presence.

  He stepped from behind the desk and opened his arms wide, greeting her like a favoured relative. It chilled her blood to play along, but Dorothea accepted his hug and even forced a smile when he held her at arm’s length.

  “Oh my dear, I wish you tried a little harder to cultivate some belief. You’re too beautiful to be buried under all this age.”

  “It looks like you’ve got a little too much belief. You look younger now than when I last saw you. Aren’t you straying a little close to that line we agreed we’d never cross?”

  Elias Masalis, head of the Eidolon council for two hundred years, had not remained in his lofty position by letting his emotions rule him. Yet, Dorothea caught the flicker of distaste that crossed his features at even so light a rebuke. It lasted only a second before his smile returned.