Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  "A flattering comparison. More people need to come round to that way of looking at the world, if it's going to heal and grow."

  "Well, you can work on that whilst we're gone, I guess," I say, turning my gaze back to Lilly once more. I notice she's returned to her book, sitting all prim and proper upon the sofa. I can see right through it. She'll have half an ear on our conversation, that's for sure. She probably deems it improper to involve herself, given the topic at hand, and her lowly position as Felina's attending Worthy.

  "And how long do you think that will be?" Felina asks, causing Lilly to glance over surreptitiously. "Did they speak of such things at the briefing?"

  "Not that I heard. If they did, I guess it's not something I need to know about. I'm guessing weeks, if not months, though. It's a long way away."

  "Expedited, I'm sure, by all those shiny new transports." I follow Feline's gaze down beyond the walls and drawbridge, to the great convoy of vehicles gathered below. "I've been told they can travel at excellent speed. It won't take you as long to reach your destination as you think, Herald Amber."

  "Good," I say. "It's the waiting that's the worst thing."

  "I'd say that's the best. The sooner you get there, my dear, the sooner you'll be put to work. I wouldn't say it's something to look forward to. All that...killing."

  I frown, though can understand her reasoning. Who, in their right mind, would truly want to kill. I can't say the idea enthuses me much, least not when engaging rational thought. Yet, there's another part of me, a primal, unconscious part, that does lick its lips when sensing such a thing. That blazing fire within that seeks its own destiny. A part of me, separate, almost, from the person I've always been, the person I like to think I am. A part that, little by little, creeps out and seeks to take control. A part that, when it comes time to roast and scorch and feast upon the flesh of man, will grin with wide-eyed pleasure, and delight in the wanton, destructive act.

  That part, I know, is something I must control.

  I don't respond to Felina's comment, but find myself merely nodding in agreement, though truly it's not quite as simple as that. Felina, perhaps, cannot understand this inner conflict I'm trying to manage, and I have little time to try to explain myself now. Only the likes of Perses, or perhaps Elian, could understand. And it is with them whom I will travel, with them whom I shall seek wisdom.

  It seems an appropriate time to draw a line under the conversation, one that only serves to raise my doubts at a time when I have no choice but to solidify my conviction. I turn from the window and move towards Lilly, pulling her up from the sofa as she cradles her book in her hands. I find myself looking at it properly for the first time, a handbook on rules and etiquette about being a good attending Worthy to ladies of high standing.

  I feel a twinge of something stir in me, a sense of disparity and imbalance at the sight. We are the same, my sister and I. Yet our lives are taking us on such divergent paths. One day, maybe, things will change. And perhaps even beyond my position as Herald, and my place in this coming war, this is my true purpose. To bridge the gap between the people of Olympus, and those of the Fringe. To help usher in a new age where equality and harmony can be more than just an illusion between the two people to whom I belong.

  I set the thought in my mind, and draw my sister into a hug.

  "Be good, Lillypad," I whisper to her. "I'll try not to be gone too long." I grin, and find her doing the same. An old exchange of secret smiles that we once enjoyed as children when getting up to no good.

  "Take your time, Amber," she says. "You never know, you might return a great hero."

  "Maybe," I say. "But making you proud would be enough."

  "Then it's enough," she tells me. "How could I not be proud of you."

  A tear, single and lonely, starts to well in one corner or my eye. A silly thing, really, and yet something I embrace. I smile as it gathers, and draw Lilly into a hug, stronger in its renewal, an embrace for the sister I'm starting to love more than ever.

  "I'll see you soon," I manage to croak. "Keep Felina out of trouble for me, OK?"

  Lilly smiles, mature and wise beyond her years, diverting her eyes towards her mistress. "It would be my honour," she says.

  "And mine," says Felina, coming over to join us. "We'll keep the city warm for you, fairest of all the Heralds. Just come back in one piece." She leans in closer to me. "And don't lose yourself out there, Amber. Don't let this new power corrupt you."

  I take her into a hug once more, nodding as I do. And drawing back, I smile confidently at both of them, and brush the burgeoning tear from Lilly's eye.

  Goodbye, sweet Lilly, I think as I look into her tearful, golden eyes.

  And with that, I turn, and begin my march to war.

  65

  The noise around me is astounding, an orchestra of creaks and groans. Wheels grind over sand and dirt, rumbling towards the plains, accompanied by the songs of soldiers packed tight into great transports. Behind, the city looms tall, powerful, gradually fading away into the mists that ever cling to these wide open plains.

  I watch from the window of Black Thunder, my senses thrilled, my heart apace, marvelling at the spectacle of the army in full flow.

  "Quite the sight, isn't it?" comes a heavy voice from within the carriage.

  I nod before I turn, finding Perses sitting comfortably upon a cushioned bench, the table erected before him laden, as it was not long ago, with maps and battle plans. I move to take a seat upon the opposite bench, losing sight now of the many grand transports moving along behind us. Yet to our near flanks, other carriages of impressive, intimidating decoration roll; those of the other Heralds of War, leading the way out into the unknown.

  "I'd call that an understatement," I say, my voice breathy and strangled by awe. "I guess you've never seen anything like it either?"

  Perses shakes his head. "I'm not sure anyone living has," he says. "At least, not on this continent."

  "Then where? Across the ocean?"

  "Possibly," Perses muses, thick fingers stroking at his anvil-like chin. "I told you before of Neorome. They are a warring people. It's possible they've sent out armies of similar scale before, conquering nearby lands and neighbouring enemies."

  "Possible," I repeat. "Why don't I like that word."

  "Because it supposes doubt, young Herald. And doubt leads only to fear." He takes a breath. "Unfortunately, with the world so fractured, doubt rules much of what we know, or think we know. It is the main reason why we are here right now, taking this fighting force to the south. By seizing the initiative, we can somewhat circumvent our doubts and fears. Does that makes sense?"

  "It does," I say, nodding. "But...it makes me wonder too."

  "And what's that, exactly?"

  I frown, thinking about just how to phrase the question. It takes a moment before I speak again. "I'm just wondering...what are the limits of the Prime's foresight and power? How much can they really see?"

  Perses ponders the question a moment, before giving me a fairly unsatisfying, though expected, answer. He looks at me with a smile, and then merely says, "No one truly knows, dear Amber. They have led us to this point, so we can only trust that they will lead us further."

  "But they can't see what's happening across the ocean," I say, shrugging. "They have only limited, local foresight?"

  Perses's eyes change just a little, adopting a frown that one might call 'rebuking'. I can understand why. My tone, perhaps, is beginning to become a little too questioning and disrespectful, even though that isn't my intention. It's merely a part of my old life upon the Fringe that lingers within me, rising up here and there when my mind begins to wander, to seek answers where, perhaps, there aren't any. At least not definitive ones.

  Eventually, Perses speaks once more. "No, Amber," he says with a tired tone, as if fielding such a question is hardly even worth the breath. "If you're wondering if the Prime can gaze across the ocean, looking to places thousands of miles away from their home u
pon the hill, then you're going to be disappointed. Their power is limited as all of ours are. They foresaw your coming, as they did mine. Isn't that demonstration enough of their clairvoyance?"

  "Of course," I say hastily. "I'm not doubting them. I'd never do that, after everything I've seen. I'm just trying to figure out their limits. It's...frustrating, I guess, not quite knowing what our enemy's capabilities are."

  "Well, that's true enough," Perses sighs, voice humming with agreement. "However, we must trust in the Prime's guidance. They have directed us on this path, and it's one I agree with. I've told you before that I don't thrill in the taking of life unless it is necessary, least of all when concerning a developed and sophisticated people. However, it is necessary in this case. And I will take no quarter when we encounter them." He leans forward, heavy frame stretching partway across the table. "I trust that you won't either?"

  "Not if it means protecting my people, no," I say immediately. "I'll do what it takes, Herald Perses."

  He leans back slowly. "Good, child. You wouldn't make a great Herald of War unless you did." He lifts a half smile at that, helping to brush the brewing tension away.

  I let my ears draw in the sounds of the convoy once more, the entire gathering of transports numbering at least a hundred by my count, with many of the large ones quite capable of housing several dozen men comfortably upon the road.

  Others, I know, are used for the storage of provisions; food and stocks of weapons and armour, supplies and equipment used for making camp at night. I've been told that we are likely to find old, unused settlements along the way that might provide shelter, but mostly we'll be using our own provisions and transports when setting in for the night.

  It is a staggering endeavour and undertaking, with enough moving parts of vehicles and men to make even the most hard-nosed among us look in awe and marvel at the grandeur of it all. Yet, that is in itself something that draws another query to my mind. One which I hold for a moment within my head, pondering it before letting it manifest as words on my lips.

  Looking again at Perses, and drawing his attention away from the important plans laid out before him, I pose a question that, once more, places some level of doubt in my head. A question that makes me think of Felina that very morning, gazing down from my apartment, wondering whether war was truly something desired upon the hill.

  "How long does it take to build these huge vehicles?" I ask. "How long to forge a convoy of this scale?"

  My words take a few moments to be heard by Perses, his wide chin once more tilting up, darkened eyes turning from his work.

  "I can't say exactly," he tells me. "It is our Forgers who manufacture these transports, under guidance and instruction from our finest smiths and engineers." He sighs, lifting his head higher. "Why do you ask?"

  He asks the question in a particular way. A way of essentially saying, 'what has gotten into you today? Why all these questions?'

  And honestly, I don't know why. Perhaps it's Felina, awakening the doubtful, mistrusting person in me. It's no surprise, really, if that side appears occasionally. It is, truly, the person I've always been, after all. Just because I've seen another side of Olympus, learned the truth of the Children of the Prime, it doesn't mean I'm going to totally abandon my curiosity.

  And, yes, that's all it is. A curiosity to learn more.

  "I'm just wondering," I say, looking out to reference the grand convoy in our wake, "whether war was on the cards...before all of this." Perses peers at me, though doesn't speak. It's an invitation for me to go on, which he can clearly sense I want to do. "It's just...well, this decision seemed to come about very quickly. Yet, there's a whole convoy ready to go. It seems like something that would take, I don't know, weeks or even months to arrange. Maybe more..."

  A short silence falls as Perses continues to look at me, before finally saying, "And the question, Amber? What are you asking, exactly?"

  I gulp, feeling as though I should probably just stay quiet. "Um...is this...is this definitely just about being, er, proactive?" I ask, losing some of my poise. "Is this just 'taking the initiative' as you've said, or something more?"

  "More? And what would that be?"

  "Conquest," I find myself saying, the word breaking free unbidden. "Could that be part of it, at least?"

  Perses, to my surprise, draws an expression onto his face that suggests he might have harboured the same doubts as me. A quiet falls upon Black Thunder for a moment as he ponders things, before eventually nodding silently a single time. "It has been spoken of before," he eventually admits. "But that is perfectly natural. All avenues are continually considered to safeguard our people. But that is the key point, Amber. Any military move is designed to strengthen our borders and protect those under our charge. We would be naive to not prepare, or consider all ends. This is merely an undertaking to ensure our people's safety..."

  "So it's not about taking Haven for ourselves?" I ask. "It's not about seizing the city while it's weak?"

  Again, I see the ripple of doubt spread across Perses's face, before he lifts his chin ever higher, and fills his lungs with a full breath, set to put an end to the conversation.

  "No, Amber, that is not the intention," he says. "We have no desire or need to occupy Haven. If we did, it would be to ensure the continuation of a peaceful society there, to make sure the innocent living within their walls are fed and protected. After any major war, a people are vulnerable to being exploited. We can be peacekeepers, Amber. It is something we owe to this world, as its most enlightened race."

  "Is that the overall goal, then? One day we'll bring all the people of the world together. Rid it of evil and protect the innocent? Is seems...impossible to me."

  "And perhaps it is," Perses says. "We have been fighting to do that, in a manner of speaking, for many years now. But yes, you're correct in suggesting the scale of the problem. You've seen what sorts of people are out there. In this world, there are as many heathens and barbarians and dark gods with dreadful power as there are good, kind souls, who wish to live in peace. We have fought to balance the scale, but it's a long, long road..."

  "But the Havenites aren't among that number," I suggest. "They're not barbarians like the Cure. They're peaceful, aren't they?"

  "Perhaps they were, and perhaps they still are. But if led by a dangerous faction, they are a threat, Amber." His voice grows strained, tired of my questioning. "We've been through this," he says. "Why do you continue to question this path? If it isn't something you believe in, then perhaps you should leave this carriage right now and return to Olympus. We haven't gone far."

  He stands, thickly muscled body, all wreathed in black, stamping over towards the door. He knocks, once, upon the wall to the front of the carriage, and it slows to an immediate stop. Behind us, I hear the grinding of wheels and gears as a hundred or more transports come to a heavy halt. Dust spews past the window, a flood accompanying the abrupt stopping of the army.

  Amid the flowing dust, Perses opens the door, letting a whistling wind fly in. He stares right at me.

  "If you wish to leave, now is the time," he says. "This army is one. It is of a single mind, Amber. We move as one, we stop as one. And when the time comes, we will fight as one. We do not wish to harbour dissent or doubt. If your mind is taken by such things now, how will you fight when you need to? Any false move, any fraction of doubt, could lead to the deaths of many of our brave men and women. Decide, now, where your mind and loyalties lie."

  Silence.

  No croaking of wheels. No singing voices in our wake. The wind that flew in seems to fly right back out, frightened away by the presence of someone so mighty. No sound lifts into the air but for my own beating heart, thrashing inside me as I sit there, frozen.

  I lock eyes with my master and know my path is beside his. I know, right then, that I will not voice my concerns any longer. That I will stifle the curiosity that brews within, those thoughts that seem so innocent to me. But I know, really, that they are not. They may
, eventually, lead me down the wrong path, force me into a decision that may cost lives. Perses cannot abide that, and neither can I.

  I stare at him, and nod, sealing my conviction. "I have proven my loyalty, and my path," I tell him straight. "I have no desire to leave this carriage. I have no desire to stand back and watch as others die for our people." I step forward, and drop to my knee in a moment of foolish drama. "I will not question this cause again, Herald Perses. Please accept my apology."

  I dip my head, lowering my eyes, and feel a large palm come down upon my hair. It presses lightly, and then moves away, drawing my gaze back up. I find the great warrior of our people smiling softly upon me, that paternal look in his eye.

  "Curiosity is not an evil, Amber," he says, reaching out to take my hand, and pull me to my feet. "It is proof of a fertile mind, of someone with a good heart and soul. Do not abandon that part of yourself entirely. Just learn to temper it, to point in the right direction. We are a single army, a single entity. And we must all march as one, together."

  "I understand," I say. "I bask in your wisdom, Herald Perses, and will let it guide me."

  "Good, child. You continue to impress me in so many ways. I have no doubt that you will achieve momentous things in your life. Let this coming war provide you with the platform to begin on that path."

  I smile up at him, and from outside the carriage, hear the rushing of feet among the sand. Through the mist a figure swiftly materialises, rushing quickly towards the window and parting the dust as it comes. Outside of Black Thunder, the face of Herald Kovas appears, gnarled and scarred and intense of expression.

  "What's the hold-up, Perses?" he asks, voice a perpetual growl. He peers inside, eyes on the table. "You wish to have a strategy meeting already or something? We've hardly got going..."

  "No, no, Kovas, nothing of the sort," Perses cuts in, looking over at me. "I was merely teaching Herald Amber a lesson, that's all. Nothing to concern yourself with. We shall engage in our strategy session when we make camp this evening."