Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  "Should I, um, heat the place up a bit?" I ask. Perses looks up lazily. The deeply crafted furrows of his brow soften a little at the sight of me, childlike and small in the shadow of his presence. "I mean, if you're cold."

  He nods gently. "I'm fine, Amber," he says, before adding: "Though, it is a little chilly. If you don't mind."

  I smile, and with a certain relish, allow my body to warm just enough so that the heat radiates out into the carriage, casting the cold away. At the same time, my body takes on its customary red glow, imitating the feel of a fireplace amid a rustic cabin, setting a pleasant light and energy to the place.

  "Thank you," Perses says, a little of his sour mood starting to depart. It seems I have that power around him, a tonic to his temper.

  The convoy keeps on moving, splashing through the quickly developing puddles that accumulate around us. I search through the window as we cut through the path we forged earlier, eventually breaking through into a clearer space. Open hills roll around us, bordered by woods and pockets of growth. Little streams ramble along, flowing from higher places to low as we begin to climb, passing over a highland region where the mists close in, and the weather, clearly, is more temperamental.

  "Is this the long way round?" I ask as I search out, my view restricted by the natural fogs. It reminds me, otherwise, of home a little. The rains and waters. The hills and woods. Not as dramatic or grand, but certainly at the same end of the spectrum, far from the urban jungle of Olympus.

  Perses looks up once more from the table. "What's that?"

  "The, um, long way around?" I ask. "The Overseer says that we're either going to take a long route round, or continue cutting through. I'm just wondering what this is?"

  "Yet to be decided," Perses tells me. "We have a clear run through these hills until tomorrow evening. We'll make camp then, and decide whether to cut through, as the crow flies, or work around. Our scouts are currently mapping our forward routes and will bring us the pertinent information on return so we can make a decision."

  "Right. Er, thanks."

  "For what?" Perses frowns.

  I shrug. "For being honest. I haven't been given much information lately."

  "Amber..."

  "No, that's not a criticism," I cut in swiftly. "It's just a fact. I know you've been busy, and...well, I guess this storm isn't helping."

  Perses glances outside. "No. It isn't ideal," he grunts. "It will slow us down, and that's the last thing we need right now. This journey is taking longer than I anticipated. It makes me wary."

  I nod, knowing that 'wary' is Perses's natural position and default setting. For a man of such staggering power, he's certainly very cautious and careful, always advising me to be the same, to be mindful of all possible risks and repercussions. It's not quite so easy for me, I guess. Yes, I'm thoughtful and circumspect at times, but I can be impulsive too. That's how I got myself into all this in the first place.

  "And if the storm lasts?" I ask.

  "It shouldn't be more than a day or so, according to Master Taranus. He's quite in tune with the changing of the weather. He'll continue to keep us informed." He sighs, stroking his mighty chin. "In any case, we'll continue to work regardless. Our men can carve a path, rain or shine. I just...I don't enjoy storms, Amber. They are a great equaliser."

  I frown, not quite understanding what he means. "An equaliser?"

  "Yes. Storms serve to limit or reduce the powers of certain individuals. Take Farsights, for example. They can see tremendous distances, but in the mist and fog, such a thing isn't so simple. The same goes for other senses of smell and hearing, reducing the impact of our Tracers and Perceivers. And even the likes of you, Amber, will find it more difficult to bring your full power to bear in such conditions. And aside from all that, it makes communications during battle difficult, and can cause chaos if not properly managed. Or, perhaps most concerning of all, taken advantage of by those used to fighting in the wet and wind."

  "But you say it'll last a day only," I counter, ever unnerved when Perses starts speaking like this, all doom and gloom. He's an inspiring man, but this sort of talk doesn't give me the greatest of confidence. "And the Overseer mentioned we have another week, maybe, until we reach Haven's territory?"

  "Well, that's another fluid matter of contention and debate. We don't quite know where Haven's territory starts and ends. We have our scouts, but they need to be very careful. If one should be taken, they may damage our entire operation."

  "Hmmmm, maybe. But isn't this all a bit, I don't know, pessimistic?"

  "There is no space for optimism or pessimism in war, Amber. Only good planning. You'll realise that soon enough."

  "And how about letting the soldiers get drunk last night?" I challenge. "Was that part of the plan?"

  Perses narrows his eyes, his barrel of a chest stopping cold in its movement. "It was a minor slip up," he admits. "The soldiers needed it to keep spirits up. Long journeys on the road can often erode morale."

  "Right. You read that in a guidebook on how to manage an army?" I ask.

  "Excuse me?" His dark eyes flicker dangerously, his thick frame seeming to expand. "What did you just say?"

  "I asked a fair question, I think," I say, standing my ground. "I'm not questioning you personally, Herald Perses. I just know that this is the first time an army like this has marched this far. You've got to be going on something."

  "Yes, I am. My instinct."

  "So it was you who issued the order for the soldiers to drink? I thought it would be Herald Kovas. At least, that's what I heard."

  "He proposed it, yes."

  "And you agreed?"

  "It seemed the right choice," Perses says, slightly on the back foot. "The other Heralds and senior Chosen considered it wise to allow the men a night off. They are fully recovered by now, so no harm done."

  "Except the Fringer who was beaten half to death," I say. "Though, of course, that's hardly counted as harm around here."

  Perses begins to nod, bunching his lips. "Ah, so we come to it. This is your complaint." He sighs deeply. "Amber, I appreciate and support your championing of the Fringers and Worthy, but you can't become too impassioned by single incidences like this. As far as I've been told, the man spoke heresy, and the soldiers reacted. They'd have done the same whether they'd been drinking or not. Don't conflate what happened with the order for the entire army to unwind. Your job as Herald is to focus on the bigger picture."

  "Right. But I'm not really a Herald, am I? I don't join in with the meetings, I don't lead anyone, or have any say in strategy." I hold my hands up. "Don't get me wrong, I don't want all that stuff right now. But, you have to realise that I'm going to find something to keep myself busy when all I do is sit around all day and night, waiting to be told who to burn to death when we finally reach our target."

  I take a breath, a very much needed breath, filling my lungs and pressing the air back out with a great deal of urgency. Perses gives me a moment to compose myself. I settle my breathing and end with a huff.

  "I know you don't need this right now," I say. "I'm just frustrated, I guess."

  "And that's fair, Amber," Perses says gently. "No, I haven't led a army the size of this, but I've had plenty of long expeditions in the past, and it's common for frustration to breed when on the road. Your passion for progress is wonderful, truly. And you know I am on your side. However, the days are growing short, now, and your priority needs to be on your training with Elian."

  I lift my eyes, ready to issue another complaint. Like a broken dam, everything is beginning to gush out.

  Perses, however, is keen enough to spot my likely objection, stepping in before I can voice it.

  "And yes, I'm sorry if I didn't think about it sooner," he says briskly. "Of course, you and Elian should be training as often as you can. I've been so busy running everything that I completely forget about what I told you." He smiles warmly, an apologetic smile that sucks away all my frustration in one. "How did it go today, anywa
y? I heard gunfire at one point. I trust it's a good sign that you're both back in one piece."

  I let out a weary laugh, and enter into a brief explanation of our session.

  "An excellent start, by the sounds of it," says Perses once I'm done. "Though you must also be careful."

  I lean in, eager to hear his wisdom. "How so?"

  "It comes down to reliance," he says. "To multiply your power and potency by working together is a fine asset, however you mustn't over rely on it. When stripped of it, you'll have only yourself to turn to. If you get too used to it, it could be damaging."

  I nod intently, quite aware of the possible dangers. "I had the same concern right after," I say. "I'll be careful, Perses. And I'm sure Elian will too."

  "Yes, I suppose so," he says. He does so with a tone of doubt, though I can't tell if it's directed towards me or Elian. Previously, he's seemed unsure of the new Chosen Fire-Blood. Does he harbour some resentment towards him somehow?

  "So, what's next, then?" he goes on. "I assume your focus will be on learning to share and combine your powers across greater distances?"

  I nod. "Yes, that's something we need to work on. Right now, we have to be pretty much side by side. We fire up through physical contact, but to maintain the bond, we need to remain only close."

  "And it would be more effective if you had more freedom to move," says Perses, not missing a beat. "Though, it will naturally weaken the bond, and eventually break it down entirely. I imagine that the closer you are, for example, the stronger your Fire-Shield will be."

  "Yeah, that seems to be how is it."

  "The same will likely go for your other skills. Practice will help to stretch the bond, allow you to operate with a little more independence, but you'll always be stronger together. Proximity is power here, Amber."

  I bob my head once again, soaking his words up like a sponge. "It's all academic, though, right? We'll probably hardly be needed when the time comes."

  "I hope so, but it's always best to be prepared. I'd also warn that you focus on controlling your heat when you attain these higher temperatures. You need to be able to contain it, and spread and direct it only when you choose. If not, you may incinerate our soldiers, and well as the enemy's. We can't be having that."

  "We're working on it," I say. "Alone, I'm getting better at that. I guess today we were more interested in seeing if we were compatible. It should be easy enough for us to fire up and maintain that higher temperature internally, without scorching everything around us."

  "Good. Then keep at it."

  I turn my eyes to the window, the rain lashing down heavily outside. Though the sun is yet to set, the world has fallen into a premature darkness, blanketed by heavy, black clouds. I let out a wistful sigh, joining in my tutor's frustration at the turn. "When?" I say. "This weather's not helping."

  "We'll see what we can do tomorrow," Perses tells me. "Actually, training in the rain isn't the worst idea for you right now. We cannot truly rely on the elements in battle, even with the likes of Taranus and the other Skymasters in our ranks. It'll be good for you to see how you operate in such torrid conditions."

  I look threateningly out at the storm, not particularly enjoying the suggestion, though understanding the reasoning. "I guess," I grumble.

  "Good. Now, is there anything else you'd like to discuss or question me on while you have me in such an open mood?" He grins, showing that good humour he seems to reserve for me, and few others.

  I ponder it a moment, one eye arched into a lofty curve, grin held at bay, fingers stroking my chin in villainous fashion. "No, I think that'll do for the day, Perses," I say, putting on a rather silly, ultra-precise accent. "Please, continue with what you were doing. Something about planning a war, was it?"

  As he laughs and turns back to his work and operations, I sit back feeling a great deal less frustrated than when I began the conversation. For all the pent up anger I feel sometimes about this life of ours on the road, Perses never fails to put my mind at ease, answer my concerns, and pretty much make everything all right.

  I forget that sometimes. That he really is on my side.

  The storm continues to grow in anger as we rumble and splash along, working through quickly forming puddles that deepen with each passing carriage. Those at the back, I imagine, will find no less than lakes before them as they approach, the highlands here so dotted with little depressions that form into bogs and swamps as the day marches on.

  As Perses turns his mind to matters of war, I let my own slip away into the wonders reserved for those of my age. I forget, sometimes, with all that I've been through, that I remain a child in many people's eyes; that in days gone by a girl like me would never have had to deal with burdens so heavy. And so I drift into youthful fantasies as I sit there, positioned beside the window, watching these lands unknown pass by and drift into darkness, only occasionally lit by bright bursts of lightning from above.

  The accompanying thunder rattles through the carriage, sending a thrill through me with each raucous rumble. I glance, excitedly, at Perses, but find him taking little interest, his eyes glued to his plans, brow growing into a furrow so deep his vision must surely be interrupted. I shake my head and turn back to the woods, plains, grasslands morphing to marsh, and another bolt of jagged silver cuts down from on high, illuminating the world beyond in a dramatic, if brief, show of light.

  I'm transfixed by the spectacle, the thunderous show, and feel a portion of the old wonder that once brewed within me begin to rise up once more from the depths. That desire to explore and search beyond the Fringe, to escape the clutches of those oppressive lands with Jude. To venture into unknown territory and plot a path of our own, live free beyond the controls that ever bound us.

  It was never a dream or desire that held water, never a true ambition we sought to achieve. No, more a fantasy that helped keep us sane, that fed our imaginations during those long walks in the woods, or secret sessions we'd have at grandma's house, learning some of the truth of the world, even if she held much back. They were days, I realise, I enjoyed. Days that were simple, perhaps, and lacking in purpose, but which held meaning all the same. No, I had no fate back then, no grand part to play in the future of our lands, but I did have a family, and I did have friends.

  Is that really so bad?

  I muse on it all, though not with a feeling of melancholy or loss. More an excitement, almost, to see the two parts of my life merge. To see the simple family life I had not so long ago combine with the new role I find myself in. To help to bridge the gap between the Fringe and Olympus, and work towards a better future for us all.

  I know, even as the thoughts work through my head, that I'm being idealistic, perhaps unrealistic in my expectations. But isn't it my responsibility now, no matter how outlandish the concept, to think like this? Aren't I the only one, really, with the position and past to champion a brighter future for all?

  I smile, and shake my head, though feel somehow lighter at the prospect. And as Perses plots war, I plot something quite the opposite. Whether or not it will come to pass remains anyone's guess.

  After all, to fight my own personal war, I've still got to get through the one my great tutor is currently arranging.

  75

  That night, as the storm rages on, I'm left alone in the carriage as Perses sets off to confer with his primary leadership group. He returns briefly to update me on what's happening a little while later, displaying his new intent, perhaps, in keeping me more in the loop. A token gesture, no doubt, but one I do appreciate.

  The plan, it seems, it to take a longer, alternate route, one plotted out over the last few hours by some of our finest, and speediest, scouts. The way forward, particularly in this weather, is too difficult to traverse in a direct line. A path around the more obstinate of obstacles is agreed upon as the most sensible way to go.

  That, however, means travelling through the night and not stopping to make camp, as has become customary. With the storm as it is, and wit
h our journey now forcing us into an extended path, it's considered the best way of not losing time. It will, of course, require that the soldiers try to sleep all squashed together in the carriages, but that's surely not something anyone's going to quibble about, given the current circumstances.

  Well, they probably will, but no one in high command is going to care.

  With his update completed, Perses departs as he usually does in the evening, leaving me to sleep alone in Black Thunder. I don't ask anymore where he'll spend the night; his answers always range from one thing to another. He could very well just move from one carriage to the next, keen to keep morale up with the men, or simply take refuge with one or several of the other senior members of the army, spending the twilight hours in further debate over the upcoming conflict and how to go about it. Perhaps, just as likely, he'll join the scouts in their next recce ahead, or else march off on his own lonely vigil, spending the night in solitude.

  Such is the enigmatic nature of the man, that I just don't know, and nor would I necessarily trust any answer he might give should I deign to ask.

  So I don't, and merely indulge in my own nightly seclusion, rearranging the interior of Black Thunder into its bedchamber format and creeping under the comfy covers. I drift off quickly enough, rocked to sleep by the rolling motion of the transport, and the pleasing sound of raindrops on its roof. It's no surprise, really, given the day I've had. The exertion of practicing with Elian certainly lends itself to a good night's rest.

  I don't know how much later it is, but I wake what seems like moments later to the distinctive sound of creaking hinges. A rush of wind blows in from outside, bringing with it a swirl of rain, the sound of the ongoing storm growing suddenly loud once more. Without moving, I turn my eyes up from the bundle of covers to find a silhouetted figure climbing the stairs of Black Thunder, his body framed against the faint signs of morning light outside. Beyond, the world appears to be only just waking, the skies still blanketed in thick grey cloud, lit only subtly by the light of the early morning sun hidden behind them.