Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  Richter nods, his breathing hurried, and manages to sit up unsteadily. He looks at Elian, then Krun, then me. He leans back as he sees me there, takes a sudden breath, and then, huffing loudly and shaking his head with a grunt, he gets right to his feet and begins storming away, escaping back into the safety of the temple.

  I watch him go, stumbling off like the beaten bully he is, my relief turning to a strange sense of triumph. And with it comes a smile.

  Pick on me at your peril, I think, glaring after him. Next time, you won't be so lucky...

  "What the hell was that!"

  The voice comes from Elian, his eyes sharp. I turn to face him, unapologetic.

  "Nothing," I say. "Just...payback."

  "Payback for what?!"

  "For everything," I growl, unwilling to yield. "It just happened to be Richter, but might have been any one of you."

  Elian shakes his head, sighing loudly. "You can't just go around attacking people, Amber. What exactly did he do to you?"

  "He...he called me Fringe rat," I say, now feeling slightly less defiant. I turn to look up at Krun's massive face, looming overhead, and see his eyes squeeze tighter, reaching across to cradle the arm I injured barely a few days ago. He got a similar reaction from me for calling me Fringe rat, among other indiscretions. Under new orders as he is, I doubt he'll be using that slang term anymore.

  "That's it?" Elian says, reprimanding me. "He called you Fringe rat. That's all?"

  "And he said sweet dreams," I say, feeling ever more foolish at my feeble explanation. "Look, it wasn't what he said, but the way he said it. Hey, you warned me about him. You put it in my head. And don't look at me like that. He had it coming. I've had it up to here about all this treatment I'm getting. I won't take it anymore."

  "A few ugly looks here and there, and you near kill the guy? A slight overreaction don't you think."

  "Kill the guy? Now that's an overreaction."

  "Amber, don't even try to pretend as if you have any idea what you're talking about. You have so little knowledge of your powers it's laughable, and absolutely no idea what you're capable of. Yes, if I hadn't intervened and cooled you off, you might have killed him. You want that on your conscience too after what happened the other day?"

  My insides collect tight at his words. My mind fills with the sight of those blackened, burned bodies.

  "That's not fair, Elian," I say. "I was being executed and burned at the stake. How the hell was I expected to react."

  "I'm not blaming you for that, and few others are either. You need to get it out of your head that we're all evil here, and have it in for you. That's your hangup, Amber, and you need to deal with it. All I'm saying is that you have to learn to control yourself. I mean, what brought this on? OK, so he intimidated you last night or something, and insulted you. Fine. What did he do just now?"

  He looks up to Krun, demanding an explanation. The giant glances to me, seemingly torn. "To be honest, Master Elian, I didn't notice, um, anything antagonising. But, I can't be sure. I don't know the history of..."

  "OK, thank you," says Elian, cutting him off. He looks at me. "Well?"

  I huff and shake my head, feeling like a scolded child. "Nothing," I say. "Is that what you want to hear. Look, I told you already. I'm Prime-damned fed up with being treated like I'm nothing. You said it yourself, I could have killed him, and after what, a week or so of knowing what I am. Hell, if he's one of the best Fire-Bloods, then perhaps you'd better widen your search. This whole contest is a farce."

  Elian fixes me with a long, hard stare. Then, aggravatingly, he begins slowly shaking his head. "And here was me thinking you were sweet and innocent. Oh, you're a Fire-Blood all right. There's a deep well of rage in you, Amber. If you don't learn to control it, then you're going to get yourself, and others, killed."

  I take a few sharp breaths, trying to steady the pulsing rage inside me. Just where did that come from? I've never been so...wild.

  "Isn't that what you're meant to be doing?" I ask, glaring at Elian. "Helping me learn how to control myself? I've had no help here, Eli, nothing. You have any idea how hard it is?!"

  "I have some," he says lightly. "And yes, I'll help you, as I said I would last night." He turns his eyes towards the north. "I'm thinking we might need some space for this. Captain Krun, fetch us a carriage, would you? We're heading beyond the northern gate."

  36

  We spend the day beyond the city walls, just as we did the day before. Apparently, that's allowed, even though I thought we'd be restricted to staying within the city itself.

  "The Overseer gave me dispensation to take you outside," Elian informs me. "It's much safer there, as you know. There are places in the city we could use, but this just gives us a bit more freedom."

  Arriving at roughly the same spot as yesterday, I find that the marquee has been taken down, leaving behind only vague markings of where it was erected. Across the earth, numerous scorch marks blacken the plains, no more intense than off in the distance where the top-temperature test was performed.

  Leaving our carriage in the possession of Krun, we move off a little into the plains to give us space and privacy. I observe Elian as we go, wondering just how much he's going to help guide me. He seems to have changed a little in his feelings on the matter. It's as though he's seen how destructive I can be and actually wishes to make sure I'm able to contain myself.

  Perhaps he really does care about others and their safety? Perhaps he's concerned that, without proper control, I'll only end up doing something terrible.

  That's certainly possible, given how I acted earlier. I mean, what was that? If Elian hadn't stopped me, would I have actually killed Richter? How did I lose control so quickly and so easily?

  I begin our training that day tentatively, my head torn as I contemplate just what's happening to me. I know I could sit for days and never work it out, never know if it's a natural evolution of my character, a case of fate becoming reality, or whether this is the doing of something, or someone, more manipulative and nefarious.

  Yet, strangely, despite my misgivings and confusions, I somehow find myself trusting at least one thing as the morning progresses.

  I trust, to my own great surprise, Elian himself.

  Removing all the obvious bluster that comes from his heritage and high-born position - and, well, his Prime-given talent as a Fire-Blood too - he really isn't so bad. He seems to have a genuine soft side, one that appears to constantly be doing battle with his innate sense of superiority.

  I can't tell what it is about him, shifting one way and then the other. It's like he's two men in one, bundled up together, each one ever vying for position, attempting to dominate. That arrogant side that creates such fear and subservience among the Worthy, and even many Children of the Prime of lower birth and standing, is evidently the one that assumes control most often. It's as though he's expected to be this person, and has learned to become it. Being anything else might just make people doubt him, serve to weaken this aura he's built around him.

  But then, there's the other side. The side that's helping me now. The side that, perhaps, was dominant once, long ago, before his beloved sister died, and his father ascended to the rank of Chosen, climbing the great steps up the Hill of Olympus. Is that side the real Elian, how he once was? Does it only creep out now on occasion, before being locked back in tight by the man he's grown to be?

  Whatever the case, I learn to differentiate between the two as the day goes on, watching the conflict play out inside him. Sometimes, he'll be patient in his advice and guidance, even passionate as he helps me understand how to stay in control, manage the fire that ever burns inside me. At others, he'll draw up a frown and close off a bit, becoming less enthusiastic in his answers, less receptive of my questions.

  And, as we go, I start to feel almost sorry for him. This is a contest he's desperate to win, a position he truly believes should be his. To step up and assume his father's seat, to make his now-deceased family proud. H
e believes they look down on him from above, from the Eternal Halls where all Children of the Prime go.

  Is that what drives him so? What right do I have to sabotage that?

  You have every right, Amber, a voice comes from deep within. This is your heritage too. This is also your fate.

  I shake my head at the voice, denying it. I have no heritage beyond being a Fire-Blood. I've been here only days, and don't even believe in the lives these people lead, the control they exert. I am doing this for Lilly and Jude, and nothing more. I'm only doing it to keep them safe...

  Not true, whispers the voice. This is for you. This is your heritage...

  I huff, audibly, as the voice continues to taunt me. It's loud enough to get Elian's attention as he enters into one of his more helpful phases, explaining to me how us Fire-Bloods are, really, a lot more than that. That we can be called Frost-Bloods too, given how we can control our temperate in both directions, up and down, as he so capably demonstrated earlier.

  He frowns at me, my eyes having wandered off as the thoughts run, the voice in my head whispers.

  "Something wrong?" he asks, dragging my attention back to him.

  "Um...I, no, nothing..."

  "Because I won't explain things more than once, Amber," he says. "It's one and done, OK? You should feel glad I'm doing any of this at all, and not letting your attention wander."

  "I..." I lower my chin. "Sorry. I am grateful, you know."

  "Hmmmm. You're really acting like it. Now, what was I saying?"

  My mind clicks back into gear, searching for the last thing he told me.

  "That we're both fire and ice," I say. "And that...were you saying that some Fire-Bloods can even create ice?"

  He draws his lips into a line, and nods reluctantly. "Correct," he says. "The best have been capable of freezing bodies of water to the extent that they can be walked across. Puddles are one thing, small ponds another. Then we have much larger expanses. One has even managed the feat on small lakes."

  I gasp. "You're kidding. A Fire-Blood froze an entire lake?!"

  "Well, not the entire lake, no. Just the top water, but to a sufficient degree for it to be walked across..."

  "That's amazing," I go on, shaking my head, all my other concerns vanishing in the face of this new information, these new potential powers. "We should end the competition now. This Fire-Blood you mention should become the Chosen."

  I laugh, but notice Elian's eyes glint under the afternoon sun, a ripple of memory passing across them. "He was," he says. "He was my father."

  We continue, Elian returning to a more morose phase, his enthusiasm drained away. I ask him if I'll get to practice freezing water, but he merely says that there's no such option here on these dry, barren plains.

  "Practice when you get back," he says, without any mention of him being there for support and guidance. "I've given you the tools to work with, Fringe girl. You just need to sharpen them."

  "Right," I say, "so that's the tell."

  He turns on me with a questioning look. "Tell?"

  "Yeah. We have a game we play back on the Fringe. It involves bluffing the other players, making them believe something when it might not be true. Basically, it's all about lies. I'm surprised you don't play it here in Olympus."

  I rather enjoy the veiled insult at the city, suddenly feeling a little like my old self, but Elian doesn't seem to get it. Or, rather, he simply chooses to ignore it.

  "OK?" he says, drawing the word out. "So, my tell?"

  "Right," I go on. "Well, a tell is something someone does when they're lying. In the game, you're looking for their tell, right? So you know they're not being honest, and you can call them out. Of course, the most skilled players can fake their tells and kinda double-bluff people. But, I'm not sure I have to worry about that with you."

  Elian stares at me, evidently confused. He shakes his head, then shrugs. "And..."

  "And, your tell," I say, taking a large breath, "is that you go between calling me Fringe girl and Amber, depending on which side of you I'm dealing with."

  His eyebrows drop. The penny doesn't. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "I'm talking about you having a Prime-damned dual personality, Eli," I say. "The 'nice' you calls me Amber. The, well, 'not-so-nice' you calls me Fringe girl." I flatten my gaze. "Not surprisingly, I hear you call me Fringe girl more than Amber."

  "Ah, I see," he says, voice smooth and so perfectly annunciated. "So, you're cleverly saying that I'm 'not-so-nice' most of the time, yes?"

  "Yes."

  "Strange, that, because I do recall saving you earlier from possibly killing another candidate, when I really didn't need to. And, a candidate I don't like by the way, thus reducing the field to three, and taking out two more of my competitors. You realise you'd have likely been executed for that, let alone chucked out of the competition?"

  "I..."

  "Oh, and that's not forgetting that I've nicely warned you to keep an eye out for others who might have it in for you. And," he says, looking around, "would you look where we are right now. I'm here, with you, helping my chief rival, and giving you all the guidance you'll ever need to develop your powers. Sure, I could give you a bit of wrong information here or there. I could have spent just the one hour with you, rather than the several I've committed, right during this critical period of the trials when, who knows, I could have done with some relaxing, or training of my own. But, I haven't. I've helped you, because you're damn sure to kill someone if I don't. And I've probably gone much further than I've needed to, and made my own life that much more difficult. But, no, I'm not such a nice guy."

  "You're...you're only doing that because you were told to," I say, doubling down, my back against the wall. Stupid, obstinate me, refusing to admit when I'm in the wrong...

  Elian smiles knowingly. "Of course, that's all it is," he says. "I'm only doing this because I was told to."

  "Well, you are, aren't you? You even said it yourself."

  "Sure, Fringe girl," he says, pointedly. "Believe whatever you want. Someone as frustratingly self-righteous as you would never believe anything else."

  "From you? Come on, why the hell should I! I was actually trying to be nice saying all that about the tell, you know. I was saying that there was at least some part of you that wasn't an insufferable ass. I doubt many others ever tell you that."

  "And you know so much about me, don't you? You know all about my life, and this city, and these people." He narrows his golden eyes. "You know shit, Amber. You've lived on the Fringe your whole life, and you come here talking down to everyone like you're something special. You're wild, and probably unnamable. So go ahead and try to kill Richter again, or the Overseer, or Herald Perses for all I care. See how that turns out." He snaps a breath into his lungs, chest heaving, skin glowing. "Oh, and yeah, I just called you Amber while being an asshole! So there's your stupid tell bullshit done."

  He turns to move off, stepping past me, even brushing his shoulder against my own as he goes. I stumble back a bit, both from the force of his words and the actual, physical contact.

  Before going more than ten or so feet, he's turned again, calling back to me.

  "Oh, and you know all that about stopping you from seriously hurting, or even killing Richter? Yeah, I didn't just save you then, but your sister and boyfriend too. You screw up like that, and their lives will be hell." He lets the point settle, seeing the reality of it all flowing across my face. "Yep, you're welcome," he finishes. Then he wipes his hands together. "I'm done. I did, apparently, what I was ordered to. That's it, you're on your own."

  He turns off to look at the carriage in the distance, and the city beyond. Krun continues to wait there dutifully, though has looked mighty bored every time I've glanced towards him. I see something edible in his hand, being pressed into his gigantic maw, the carriage coming equipped with sufficient food to keep us satiated through the long day.

  And yes, it has been long. And yes, though he has had h
is doubts, Elian has been far more amenable and helpful than I'd have expected. Orders or no, he didn't have to be this way. And my response, my way of showing my gratitude? To just go ahead and insult him.

  Bravo, Amber. What a wonderful, shining star you are.

  "You can take the carriage back," Elian continues, calling back to me. "Frankly, I've had enough of your company today. Eat, drink, whatever. I'll see you around the temple."

  Before I can manage to summon a response, he's marching off, robes glowing red enough to show his anger, feet leaving scorch marks on the stone floor. I watch, and know that this wasn't a contrived reaction. This wasn't him playacting for effect, or for some other scheming purpose.

  No, this was just the reaction of an offended young man. And, I have to admit, I can't exactly say I blame him.

  37

  I spend the night and following day in a strange state of solitude, lingering around the temple and purposely seeking my own space.

  It's not an uncommon feeling for me, to be lonely, feel unwelcome even in a place you should feel most secure. The honest truth is that my own home near Pine Lake has become a place of bitterness in recent years, the breakdown of my relationship with my father, and to a lesser extent mother, souring my experience of a place I once loved.

  Only at grandma's place have I felt at home, though my visits haven't been frequent enough for my liking. I think, that day, during my quiet hours alone, about her. Above all others, except perhaps Jude, she'll be missing me most. Jude will move on given time. He'll find someone and continue to live his life. But grandma? She has no one now. Nobody but Washington to help her through the long days, her years on this earth being squeezed with each passing winter.

  The thought upsets me greatly, and I find myself crying that day. My emotions, mostly trapped down deep during my time here, begin to creep out during my quiet withdrawal. I find myself seeking out isolated parts of the vast temple, far larger than it looks from the outside, filled with subterranean tunnels and passages, stretching down several levels beneath the earth. I journey into the gloom, alone with my thoughts, away from Hestia, away from Richter...