Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  Elian concedes the point, though again explains the insignificance of the bout.

  "Yes," he says, "Atlas lost a fistfight to a man clearly better trained in such combat than he is. As any Phaser will know, speed is much more important than strength during a fight of that nature. If you can't catch your opponent, then what hope do you have? They will just avoid your attacks and wear you out, eventually taking the win."

  "And that's what happened?" one of the soldiers asks.

  Elian nods. "Atlas's opponent was a supremely gifted Phaser, and clearly extremely strong as well, given the weight behind that knockout punch. We already know that Haven has some formidable warriors. This was one of them. It should come as no surprise."

  "But, he wasn't from Haven," says the initial Farsight. "He was from Neorome, by the look of that armour. Are there more of them, Master Elian?" he asks. "How many Neoromans are fighting with the Havenites?"

  "Calm, soldier," says Elian smoothly, smiling with his usual glow. "There is nothing for any of you to be worried about. There may be a few Neoromans stationed here, but they will number only in the few. Our army is many, many times larger than their military forces can handle. We will prevail soon enough, fear not."

  His words are, as ever, well delivered and diplomatic, the product of many years spent in the public eye, attending events with the great and good of Olympus. They serve to quell any of the soldiers' concerns, though some take the other path and, being more experienced in battle, look as though they are relishing a proper fight against proper opposition.

  "Anyway," Elian finishes, nodding towards the soldiers manning the energy shield control station, "Herald Amber and I need to train. Please, keep to your duties and don't let the events of the day distract you. As you can hear, the bombardment of the city has recommenced. The Havenites, I assure you, are running scared."

  The shield begins to lose its dazzling hue, fading until there's nothing left, allowing us to pass through. As soon as we do so, it's reactivated, the open plains ahead, suitably set within a depression between the rolling hills, now treeless and almost entirely empty of plants. It's scorched in many places too, evidence of several training sessions over the previous few days.

  As we move down, getting into position, Hestia comes up close to Elian and I, the three finalists during the Trail of the Chosen, all working together again. All so far from home.

  "That all true?" she asks with a tight whisper. "What you said."

  Elian glances at me, the men moving into position all around us. "Pretty much," he says. "We don't want people making a big deal of it or getting the wrong idea. So, Atlas had the hell beaten out of him, big deal. The guy who did it is only one man."

  "Perses was only one man," Hestia says.

  Elian's eyes still take a turn at any reference to the name. "And?" he grunts.

  "Perses was known to be able to take down armies almost by himself..."

  "Perses was killed in an ambush," Elian says. His eyes flick to mine. "He...he wasn't invulnerable, Hestia."

  "I know. I'm just making the point that one man, one soldier, can make a huge difference to a war. I hear their leader, this Lady Orlando, is pretty feisty?"

  "She is," I find myself saying. "Think you'd like her."

  "And quick as a whip by the sounds of it," says Hestia. "Got a lot in common with me too, then."

  "And your point?" yawns Elian.

  "The same one as before. That one person, even an old lady like that, can make all the difference too. We have to remember, these are their lands, and it's their city. They might just have a strategy of their own, you realise."

  "They do," says Elian abruptly. "Hide behind their walls, try to wear us down, and snipe as many of us as possible in raids during the night. It's sensible, given their lack of numbers."

  "Alleged lack of numbers..."

  Elian scowls. "What is this, Hestia?" he demands. "Why all this doubt? We know we have much greater numbers than they do. We have enough evidence of that now. We just don't know exact numbers, that's all."

  Hestia shrugs. "Just taking a different look at things," she says. "You two are clearly more in the loop than I am."

  "Yeah, you just want them to have more soldiers. More people to kill, right?" I ask, trying to do so jovially. "More notches on the proverbial bedpost." I nudge her in the arm. She doesn't seem to get the joke.

  "Look, Hestia," Elian continues, ever-so-serious all of a sudden. "You can have these thoughts, that's fine. Just don't spread them around. Herald Kovas wants a calm camp, OK. He wants people relaxed and sleeping well at night, so that when we get the call, everyone is positive and upbeat and ready to go. These are soldiers with families and friends, wives and kids back in Olympus. We don't want them getting all, I don't know, anxious and intimidated while they're waiting here in camp, thinking about home. It won't suit anyone."

  Hestia's eyes flatten out, though not in defiance of Elian's request to bite her tongue. I can see that she's had about enough of all this pandering to the less experienced soldiers.

  "Fine," she says. "If that's an order, of course I'll follow it. But for the record, I don't believe in that philosophy. I've fought in enough battles to know that soldiers need to be tested, not mollycoddled. This is conflict, not kindergarten. If they can't hack it, better to know now than in the heat of a fight. They should be being told that the Havenites are strong, powerful, aggressive, experienced. That'll get them primed for action more than pretending they're weaker than they are."

  Her words shut Elian down, perhaps hitting a slight nerve. After all, what experience does he have? I haven't really found out what happened to him in the woods that night, whether he actually fought the ambushers or not. All I know is he was coming from the direction of the camp when he came across myself and Perses. He may have seen no action at all.

  "You are entitled to your beliefs," he says eventually. "But this order comes from the top, a man who has seen more war than even you, Hestia. He knows what he's doing." His eyes move towards the fields, now fully encircled and protected. "Now, if you don't mind, we need to get training. Amber, come on."

  He moves off at that, keen to escape the conversation. I see Hestia lift a slight grin as she watches him go. "He'll be fine," she says. "I wasn't talking about him when I mentioned mollycoddling."

  "I didn't even know you knew the word," I say.

  "Nice. I know plenty of them. Like ass, that's a nice word." She smirks at me, before turning back to look at the camp. "It'll probably be an easy fight when it comes to it," she says. "But I do worry about some of these soldiers. A lot of them just don't seem to have it. And trust me, I've seen many like that before. They're often the first to turn and run when the enemy closes in, leaving the rest of us to clean up the mess. And with people like this Ares out there, that's going to put a lot of fear in them. If they've got a few like that, it can make a big difference."

  I nod pensively, always ready to listen intently to Hestia when she speaks of battle and war. She's an expert in it, after all, and, like Krun, has spent much of her time under the service of Perses.

  We don't continue the conversation, Elian barking for us to come join him.

  And all the while, as we train, the songs of war, of the incessant bombardment, continues to sing in the distance.

  100

  Under the orders of Kovas, Elian and I spent the evening on alert, patrolling the camp as we used to during the long journey to get here. Then, of course, our efforts were to watch over the Fringers. Now, it is the fringe of the camp itself under our watch, should a more serious attack occur at some point during the night.

  With Herald Gailen doing the same, meandering about on his own solitary route, Elian and I merely wander along, performing a circuit of the camp, before doing the same the other way. With the borders beyond the camp being so closely watched, however, we're not expecting any direct attack on the shield or the camp itself. Instead, the thought is that Haven may, in order to continue their
bluff, attempt to increase the ferocity of their raids and skirmishes, probing with a little more intent than before.

  After a while, growing bored of circling the camp itself, we decide to venture out beyond the shield perimeter, and move into the open lands beyond. Still within our own newly fashioned borders, and with many lookout points and guarded stations encircling us beyond, we begin venturing towards them, one by one, doing so as both a means of keeping busy, and inspiring the men stationed out there.

  It is, without a doubt, the most dangerous assignment we have right now, each lookout only sparsely defended with a smattering of soldiers. They are, however, some of our braver and more experienced souls, some of the remaining forces not killed within the forest ambush a week before. With the lands now predominantly cleared, and with gifted Farsights, Tracers, and Perceivers posted at each lookout station, the enemy will have a great deal of trouble getting close enough to strike without being seen.

  Beyond the safety of the camp, there's an added layer of tension that engulfs Elian and me. It's that sense that danger might be lurking just about anywhere, despite the relative safety afforded by our borders. Still, we grow quieter, more focussed, and take the opportunity to further practice what we've learned.

  With a tap of our fingers, we share the fire that flows between us, and immediately set about forging a shield of heat around us. By now, we have learned to do so without glowing too brightly, or even at all. With Elian's fine control of his Frost-Blood abilities, he's able to douse the light within us, without impacting the heat around our bodies, enabling us to stay well shielded without glowing like a beacon in the night. It was that very thing that made me so conspicuous during the ambush in the woods, and something I've been keen to try to correct.

  Shielded, and yet shadowed at the same time, we make our way towards the various positions set out beyond the camp, all of our flanks watched, every angle under surveillance. It's all so quiet out here, the bustle of the camp growing muted behind us, the lights dimming as we progress further away. Only the bombing of the city continues as a continuous soundtrack to life here in the south, right now entering into a particularly brutal phase as the artillery cannons are charged and launched, again and again, hour after hour, hardly ever taking a break.

  It seems to be some response for what happened earlier, an indication that we're only going to keep smashing away at them, battering them into submission, before sending in our troops to finish the job. And out here, in the silence of the night, it's all we can hear. The crackle and whizz of the energy shells as they fly. The distant thuds and booms as they connect and explode, flashing in the distance whenever we get a decent look at the city, so far away.

  The first lookout point we come to is up at the top of the hill overlooking the camp, giving us a fine vantage and view of Haven, nothing but a dark silhouette on the horizon, occasionally lit by the explosions, their accompanying thuds reaching our ears moments later like the delayed crack of thunder that follows lightning.

  The station is dug into the earth, a job performed by the Fringers, providing some cover while offering an excellent view to the plains, as they stretch towards the city. There's no light there, save the barest glow inside the dugout, only visible when we get near. It illuminates its occupants, a group of lookouts hidden within, using their extreme senses to pick up any approach.

  We creep towards them, trying to catch them off guard. Before we even arrive, all are looking right in our direction as we reach their position, and drop quickly inside.

  "We got pretty close," Elian says. "If we were the enemy, you'd be in big trouble right now."

  One of the soldiers, clearly a specialised Tracer, offers a knowing smile. "Excuse me for saying so, Master Elian, but I smelled you both a mile off. Knew it was the pair of you coming our way. No cause for trouble."

  "Heard you too," says another lazily, this one a Perceiver. "Footsteps were like thunderclaps to me."

  "Even over all that?" I ask, looking out towards the city, flashing in the distance.

  "Sure," the man says. "I'm tuning that out as much as I can, listening for anything unusual. Like footsteps, breathing, beating hearts. Things like that."

  "You can hear someone's heartbeat? From how far away?"

  "Depends," the Perceiver says. "Out here, in this silence, from a decent distance. Helps if they're anxious. Pulse is stronger, faster, louder. Breathing the same."

  I purse my lips, impressed, and partly wishing I had augmented senses as well. Sure, my gifts can be pretty devastating, but I'd sure like to be a multi-gifted like some of the others in the army. In that regard, Herald Gailen certainly comes to mind, doing so with a note of envy.

  "And...what about my smell exactly?" Elian asks, looking at the Tracer through hooded eyes. "You saying I need a shower or something?"

  The man smiles. "Wouldn't do you much good, sir," he jokes. "I think it's that product you use in your hair, has a distinctive scent. I don't exactly see you going without it."

  I chuckle at that, though Elian doesn't seem to find it so amusing.

  "And I'd stay off the perfumes, Mistress Amber," the Tracer goes on, turning his attention to me. "Marks you out."

  "I'm not wearing perfume," I counter.

  The man grins. "Must just be your natural scent then, my Lady."

  "OK, enough fun," cuts in Elian. "Anything strange out there?" He turns to the Farsight, a woman, still staring out towards the city. "Nothing to report?"

  "Nothing, sir," she says, not turning her head to look at him, dutifully sticking to her task.

  "Haven't seen much action here, to be honest," says the Perceiver, speaking for her as she continues to focus. "They tend to sneak around the flanks if they want to raid us. Seems too obvious to come right for us here. We'd notice them from a mile off."

  "Right," says Elian, nodding. "Well, keep up the good work. We're going to head around the perimeter from here, see if anything's going on."

  The soldiers nod at him respectfully, and we set off back on our way.

  We cover a couple more stations, doing the same as before as we attempt to sneak up on them. Each time, we're greeted by the same result, the lookouts and sentries within being fully aware of us some time before we even arrive. Without having super-speed, it's much harder to evade their supernatural surveillance. It seems that they have all bases pretty much covered.

  It's a time consuming business, but a strangely enjoyable one. It's nice, actually, just wandering through the open plains and meagrely forested hills, the grasses twinkling with an early dew, the lands bathed in a silvery moonlight. I start to feel something again, perhaps against my better judgement, a slight stirring of desire as I walk with Elian, his visage, his side-profile, looking so handsome as we wander beneath the stars.

  In another place, at another time, this might just be a romantic evening stroll, a young couple in the throes of some new relationship, enjoying the quiet solitude of the night, speaking of the future and the promise it might bring.

  I cling to that thought for just a few moments, a stupid smile appearing on my lips as I do. Then, as is always the case, it flees as thoughts of Jude march into my mind, bringing with it a confusion, a guilt, a resolve to avoid and escape any such romantic entanglements, for now at least. They only complicate things, and cause hurt. Frankly, I have enough of that to deal with right now.

  Elian appears to notice, his smile rising and falling with my own. Perhaps he's feeling the same, the moonlit stroll helping to further heal the rift that tore open between us, our friendship now almost back to full health. He may be wanting more, hoping to pick up where we left off. His eyes suggest that's the case.

  "What is it?" he asks me, probing as we wander along. "You were smiling about something."

  I shake my head. "Just...a joke I remembered," I say, falling back on that old line people use when trying to hide the truth.

  "Oh, really? What was it? Tell me."

  "Um, I can't tell it. I'm no good
at that."

  "Oh go on. I promise I'll laugh."

  "Well then that defeats the entire object. How would I know if it's actually funny if you're going to laugh anyway?"

  "It doesn't matter. You found it funny, didn't you. You had a very nice smile on your face. Must have been a lovely joke."

  His eyes warm, and his signature grin appears. It's a clear statement that he knows I'm lying, and probably is quite sure of the sort of smile I was adopting. A dreamy sort of expression as we walked, side by side, all but holding hands under the stars.

  "Fine," I say, sighing. "I wasn't smiling over a joke."

  "I...thought as much."

  "Then you're probably smart enough to know why I was smiling," I challenge.

  He shrugs gently. "I have an idea." His eyes work up to the stars, to the moonlight, casting its radiance down through the branches of the few trees around us. "It's...very nice out here," he says. "Very calm, despite it all. It's almost...romantic, you might say."

  I laugh wryly. "Almost."

  I feel his body shift just a little, his hand stretching across towards me. It reaches around my back, gently grabs my flank, pushing ever-so-lightly to turn me towards him. I work with the guided motion until we're face-to-face, his golden eyes glinting beneath the star-scattered sky, his teeth lit bright with the silver of the moon.

  "Almost," he whispers, leaning in to kiss me.

  I'm drawn in, unable to deny the urge, the desire. Not only my own, but of the fire inside, seeking this union with an undeniable longing.

  Our lips meet there, alone in the open, the camp twinkling far away, the city of Haven even further across the plains. I melt, as I have now so often, into the kiss, the embrace, my mind blurring as the instinct, the impulse takes over.

  And then, the thoughts come, smashing through the wall, breaking down the dam. They bring the same doubts, the guilt, as my lips rip from his, and I take a step back.

  "No, Elian," I pant, gulping. "We can't..."

  "Why not?" he asks, drawing forward.