The Children of Hypnos

Chapter 4: Sandman

"Pick up your feet, Ashworth!"

"I'm half a lap ahead of everyone else, Marcia! My feet are up."

"That's Professor Montgomery!"

"You're only three years older than us!"

"Practically an old lady, and I'd still run faster than you."

Marcia Montgomery, weapons expert, annoyed Emery on good days and made her homicidal on bad ones. Marcia had planted herself at the center of the gym, burly and tall as an Amazon, to watch the students run laps. Her orange hair shone bright beneath the gym lights.

Emery rounded the turn of the track and looked back. The rest of the class labored on behind her. None of them were slower than her, they just paced themselves in the beginning while Emery sprinted ahead. Wes floated in the middle of the pack, absolutely invisible unless she was looking for him.

Average. He was so average. He had the frame and muscle to support both speed and strength, so Emery wasn't sure if he hadn't realized it yet or if he just didn't know how to make his body work the way it should.

They finished the lap. Marcia barked, "No resting! Weapons out, five more laps! I'm tacking on three every time someone slouches!"

The group rippled silver and gold as dreamform weapons appeared from pockets and pieces of jewelry. Swords, knives, whips, bows. Emery pulled her Peacemakers from her bracelet and they grew to their full size. She looked back again after the next corner. A bubble had formed around Wes to make room for his war hammer.

The thing was honestly the most ridiculous weapon Emery had ever seen. The head of it, a blunt smashing face on both sides, was as big as Wes's chest. Had it been a real weapon, it wouldn't have stayed in one piece, much less been weighted correctly.

Their dreamform weapons were supposed to come from a subconscious place, the type of weapon chosen from some deep well of human history inside them. At fifteen, forming their weapons for the first time, it was a game to see if they could guess from what time and place the weapon had originated. Emery's had been easy: late 1800s America, maybe the most contemporary weapons formed by a dreamhunter.

Wes's though...the only conclusion their classmates could come to about that hammer was "compromising for something."

Marcia yelled, "Everyone get on pace with their partner for the last two laps, or it's ten more for everyone!"

A groan erupted behind Emery. She glanced over her shoulder to meet Wes's eye without slowing down. Frustration flickered in his face, and anger in everyone else's. Wes gripped the hammer in both hands and shouldered his way to the front of the group, then sprinted to catch up with Emery. The hammer shouldn't have been much of an issue, since they'd been trained to alter weapon weight the same as weapon size, but Marcia had crushed them into the ground with the morning's workout, and the run was the last stretch before the end of class.

Wes reached Emery and slowed to her pace. Sweat dripped from his hair.

"Way to be a team player, Ashworth," Marcia sniped. Emery ignored her.

"Don't collapse," Emery said to Wes.

"I might collapse, but at least I didn't run ahead to make myself look better than everyone else," he replied between breaths.

Emery's nose prickled. "Have they given us a new assignment yet?"

"It's only been three days since the last one, and we were just assigned partners. They're not going to load us up with missions right away."

"I'm sure Terms and Recs has plenty. I'll ask."

He glared at her. "Stop trying to get rid of me."