Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  The final members of the team are the greatest Forgers at our disposal, ready to craft a pathway forward should we run into any blockages. We know, now, that we're likely to do so, yet have the tools to easily solve the problem.

  And should there be traps down there, explosive charges set to blow, we have our various Sensors, Farsights and Tracers and Perceivers all tasked with listening, looking, smelling for anything unusual down there in the darkness. Combined, they will be able to give us fair warning of any tricks Haven may have hidden up its sleeve.

  We move silently through the plains, keeping low, keeping quiet, our movement concealed as Herald Kovas leads us on. I find my eyes glaring at him, despising his cruelty once more, wondering if this was the plan all along. Would Perses have condoned such a thing? Was this the strategy they devised together?

  I hate to think it, but perhaps, as Elian says, I never truly knew him as well as I thought. Perhaps he only ever told me what I wanted to hear, knowing my role, my purpose, here.

  I grumble internally at the thought. Have I been misled this entire time? Is Kovas just more open and honest about what we have really come here to do.

  Kill them all, I think. Destroy an entire people.

  Genocide...

  And, once more, Lady Orlando's words come to mind. 'There are no slaves here. Only good, innocent people...'

  The thoughts weaken me as we go. I turn away from them. I have to. I try to think of the Prime, feel their warmth, their power, their joy inside me. I move closer to Elian, needing his presence to steady and guide me. And I turn to the fire within, rumbling hungrily, calling for me to stop thinking, to silence my mind.

  Silence, the beast inside seems to whisper. Do what you were born for, Amber. Fulfil your purpose, and be forever a hero to your people...

  Ahead, through the frigid grey mist, I see the old foundations of a town come into view. It seems to have been burnt to a crisp, a settlement from hundreds of years ago, before the fall, now rotting down to its base. We're told this was where the Nameless held their headquarters, an old church in the town's centre. It's hard to tell, now, which building that must have been. The entire place is rubble and not much more, the civil war here surely seeing to the ending of the Nameless's base.

  We move towards a building, similarly destroyed as the rest, though with a few broken walls, half a ceiling intact. Kovas steps inside a moment, before stepping back out. He turns to Atlas and nods. The giant steps forward, and begins brushing aside large blocks of rubble from the floor with his astonishing strength. I see Kovas's face light into a smile.

  There, beneath the wreckage and broken remains, is an opening leading down into the earth.

  "This is it," he says, whispering to himself, all but licking his lips. He turns to the rest of us. "This is the way down. You know your orders. Get to it. Quick, but quiet."

  The first to move down are some of the Sensors, making sure the coast is clear. Behind them go the Forgers, slipping through the opening and down into the tunnel beneath. The rest of us begin to follow. A few eyes turn to Atlas, wondering if he'll fit. The space is quite narrow, perhaps too tight for his mountainous frame.

  "Check down the tunnel," whispers Dianna, calling to a Phaser, who drops inside. He disappears for a few moments, before reappearing up the ladder, materialising before us.

  "It's very tight in places, Lady Dianna," he says quickly. "I...I'm not sure Master Atlas will fit."

  Atlas grunts his disproval of the soldier's prognosis. The great Titan hasn't had the best luck of late.

  "I'll tear my own way through," he says, his voice a deep, thumping sound. "I'm not missing out on this..."

  "Yes you are," comes Kovas's voice, quick and dismissive, turning his eyes up to the man. "We can't afford you making unnecessary noise and trouble, or slowing us down." His eyes turn to the Skymasters, expected now to join the other, larger cohort of soldiers readying to provide diversion at the wall. "Accompany Atlas to the others," he says to them. "You know your orders. Go."

  Kovas moves away, stepping towards the opening down into the tunnel, leaving Atlas standing there, jaw clenched tight, massive teeth grinding. "But...Herald Kovas..." he manages to grunt.

  Kovas lifts a hand dismissively, the Titan's concerns unworthy of even a moment's consideration. "No arguments, Atlas," he orders. "Stay up here and join up with the others. You caused us enough embarrassment with that pathetic display yesterday. We can't have you messing things up again."

  I feel a measure of pity for the giant as he stands there, looking like he wants to launch forward and tear Kovas apart.

  "Right, everyone else, get in," our leader goes on without a care, marching towards the hole in the ground. He looks down into the darkness, a ladder extending a short way into the depths. He doesn't use it. With a little hop, he jumps forward and disappears down, dropping to the earth below without so much as a sound.

  The rest of us follow, one by one, Hestia and her troop going next. They drop inside, using the ladder as they descend. I wait towards the back, hesitating, keen to stay at the rear.

  "It's OK, Atlas," I hear Dianna say, rubbing the Titan's arm as she often seems to do to keep him calm. "You'll have your chance to fight, don't worry. It'll probably all be over nice and quickly anyway. You won't miss much."

  Her words help to quell the big man's ire, his scowl being reduced to something less frightening.

  "Go with the Skymasters," Dianna goes on. "Keep the rest of our soldiers safe." She smiles at that, and steps over towards me, waiting at the top of the hole. "Ready?" she asks me.

  I take a slow breath, and nod silently.

  "Right then, let's get this done."

  One by one, we climb the ladder, entering into a long, cold, tunnel, its walls of dark rock, its interior lightless but for the lamps twinkling along our convoy of soldiers ahead.

  "Do you mind helping us out?" Dianna says, squinting into the gloom. Beside me, Elian understands her request. With us all now concealed within the safety of the underlands, he lets some fire flow through his veins, lighting up the tunnel with a soft glow. I do the same, and down the tunnel, others begin to glow too, Hestia and her outfit helping to guide our path.

  "Much better," says Dianna. "Now let's just hope the Overseer's map works."

  We move off, into the shadows, on the long march towards the centre of the city.

  104

  The route is close, tight, narrow in places, yet much larger and open in others. We travel through the tunnel, stretching for at least a mile or two before it even reaches the city. Eventually, after at least a half hour of quick progress, it begins to expand into a much grander series of caves and caverns, interconnected by smaller tunnels and paths that sometimes require us to hunker down, crouch, or even squeeze to get through.

  It becomes immediately clear that Atlas's presence here would have only been a hindrance. No Titan would find it easy navigating these paths, and even half-Titans, or those the size of a Perses, would still find it difficult in places.

  The open caverns are a window into the past, showing signs of the community that once existed here not too long ago. The rebel forces of the Nameless, as we've discovered, used these caverns once as a refuge from those trying to hunt them, building fires for cooking, making beds and private quarters for sleeping. I can see that some such things remain, old mattresses tucked away into corners, clothes and other rags littered here and there, forgotten and left behind once these places were abandoned.

  It must have been a fairly gloomy existence, living down here in the darkness, away from the clear skies and fresh air above. Frightened of being discovered, always battling against the odds. I don't know much, of course, of exactly what happened, but I'm certainly interested to find out. I can't help but be intrigued, and impressed, by the idea of a small, underground rebel faction, rising up to take over the ruling party, break apart the status quo and force a revolution.

  We soon leave the larger caverns, Kovas continu
ing to guide us forward as we advance through the maze, working inward towards the city's core. Above, the booming sounds of the continued aerial assault, a further diversion to hide our presence, tells us that we're still in the outer sections of the city, the streets and buildings above us likely reduced to nothing but rubble.

  I get excited each time I see a tunnel that seems to lead up, giving passage to the surface. It's a curiosity, more than anything, to look upon this strange place, more regular, ergonomic in its design, the buildings more functional and less attractive than those of Olympus, with its myriad architectural styles, winding, cobbled streets, grand squares and temples, spectacular staircase and hill at its centre. And, really, I've experienced and explored little of the city I've begun to call home. There are so many wonders there still to be discovered.

  Haven isn't like that at all. Though the outer regions and quarters do carry more architectural flare in places, the streets behind the inner walls present, from what we hear, a dull and unexciting place. A place imagined and designed by the group called the Savants, uninspired of mind and unemotional of spirit, fashioning a city built for purpose only, functional and simplistic in its design.

  We hit a couple of dead-ends, causing Kovas to grow stressed and strained, examining the Overseer's complicated map with grunts and grumbles, cursing the man as if he created this subterranean maze himself. In reality, I suspect that, if we have hit a snag, then it's Kovas himself who has directed us down the wrong path.

  With aid from those with a few extra brain cells, Lady Dianna and Herald Avon included, we end up tracking back, making certain that we are going in the right direction. I suggest to Elian, by my side, that we won't exactly know whether any dead-end is, well, an actual dead-end, or merely a tunnel blocked by the previous conflict.

  "It doesn't necessarily mean we're going the wrong way," I whisper, my voice carrying a little further in the enclosed space. "We'll get nowhere if we keep on tracking back."

  "I think we can make the distinction," Elian says, "by what the blockage looks like. If its sheer rock, it's a dead-end. If it's rubble, a collapsed roof, then it's probably a blockage."

  "Hmmmm," I say, nodding. "You could be right."

  It turns out, he is, Dianna clearly informing Kovas of the same as the Forgers are put to work. With a collective thought that we are back on the right path, we reach a blocked tunnel, the way forward filled with large chunks of rock and stone, the ceiling above clearly having caved in. The Forgers make light work of it, either moving the rocks aside with their telekinesis, or breaking them down into smaller components when they're too large to be pressed one side or the other.

  I watch, still fascinated by such powers, as they stand there, still as statues, opening the route with nothing but their minds.

  And within minutes only, we're back on our way.

  Gradually, bit by bit, the bombing above begins to grow quieter, informing us that we're advancing in the right direction. We continue to move quietly, often in single file as we advance, working through the tight, claustrophobic spaces that widen and narrow with ongoing regularity.

  At one point, we're halted by our Perceivers, who take a moment to listen ahead. Creeping forward, and some time later, we come upon the source of the sound; a waterfall, and an underground river, flowing wildly beneath the city. The space is like a little oasis, vines and other twisted tendrils of plant-life working around rocks and climbing walls, the large cave filled with a constant moisture that hangs and shines on every surface, reflecting the light of our lamps, and the fire that glows within our blood.

  We take a short break there, at least an hour into our travels now, the night above moving swiftly on. Dawn, we all know, won't be too far away, the mission taken during the deepest ebbs of night when the city above will be sleeping, quite unaware of our terrible advance.

  As Kovas and his advisors continue to debate and plot our onward course, I find myself wandering around that cave, enjoying the ambience of the waterfall as it flows and splashes, echoing through the cavern, a relaxing tone for my ears to replace the distant bombing above.

  I ponder things as I walk, though try not to, adopting a philosophical slant to my thinking to try to ease the burden placed upon me.

  What difference does it make, whether I kill or not, I think. We're all going to die anyway...

  It is the existential argument of the nihilist, one that I find gives me some solace right now. I came on this venture, convinced of its validity, knowing that my people needed to be defended. Right or wrong, doesn't that still stand? What other option is there, if everyone else is so on board...

  "Amber." The mention of my name has me turning. I find Elian there, his advance towards me hidden by the sound of the waterfall, crashing and falling ahead. "Is everything OK?"

  I nod. Of course, I nod. Yet he can see through me now. He knows when something's wrong.

  "It's this mission, isn't it?" he asks. "What Herald Kovas has planned for us. It...it makes you uneasy."

  "And not you?" I ask. "You're not a hardened killer, Elian. If it doesn't make you a little uneasy, then you're not human."

  "It does," he says, not hiding it, but admitting it openly. "Of course it does. But it's our duty to go through with it. That's the very reason they wanted us training and fighting together. This was always the plan."

  "You think that? You think Perses wanted this too?"

  His eyes darken a shade. "Why wouldn't he?" he says. "They devised this plan together for weeks. This was always our purpose, Amber. From day one. It's all a bit coincidental, isn't it, that I become a Chosen and days later, you're a Herald of War. Now we're here, fighting side by side, combining our powers."

  "So we're being used?" I cut in.

  "Yes, we are," he admits. "Just like every soldier, every person here. It's all for the good of Olympus, for the glory of the Prime. We live and die for our people and our place. If this is how we accomplish it, then we have no scope to doubt it." He steps forward, his voice turning quieter. "And when those doubts do come, just know that you're not in control. It helps alleviate the responsibility, and the guilt."

  I don't like the thought. "That isn't free will then," I say. "I have to be able to make some decisions myself."

  "And you can, but not in war," says Elian. "If a soldier denies their commanding officer, it's treason. There's no difference with us. We are part of a machine, Amber. Big cogs, yes, but still only a part of something much larger than we are. You overthink things too much. Just...let it happen." He takes my hand, and squeezes tight. "I'll be with you the entire time. Just, let me guide your powers. I'll direct it. I'll take the burden, if you want."

  His smile does more than his words to relax me, calming me much like thoughts of the Prime give me joy. I wish, though, that I could think as he does. I guess a lifetime spent in Olympus has groomed him this way, as with all others. My background, such as it is, perhaps leads me to question things more, rally against things I can't possibly agree with.

  We move back towards the others, my mounting anxieties once again settled for now, at least enough for me to go on. This is the worst of it, I imagine, spending these hours in thought. When the time comes, and we stand together and set the inferno free, I know I'll feel that joy spread through me. I know the fire will resume control.

  Yet it's tomorrow that I worry about, and the days after that. When I'll have to live with what I've done. When I'll have all the time in the world to wrestle with my conscience, a fight I'm certain I cannot win.

  "Right, right, that sounds good." My ears tune in again on Kovas's voice, a sound I've never liked from day one. "We keep moving," he says. "We're in the western region of the city. This way takes us straight towards the core. Everyone on guard. We're getting closer."

  We continue to move as a troop, and once more I take my position at the back. More winding passages follow as the air grows still and tense. We stop more often, the explosions above getting ever quieter, allowing our Perce
ivers to hear with greater effect. Nothing, as yet, seems to trouble them, and the Tracers detect nothing of concern. We keep going, slowly, carefully, working our way through another couple of collapsed tunnels. There are more of those now, some of the passages that seem to lead up towards the surface caved in.

  Little by little, step by step, we close in on our final destination. A whisper comes down the line. We are passing the walls of Inner Haven above. I take a few steps and feel my heart beginning to hammer, crossing the threshold, even underground, besetting me with a profound sense of nerves and hesitation.

  In the shadowed tunnels, Elian moves closer to my side. Ready, should we be set upon, should we come upon a trap. Ready to take my hand and share our power, protecting us from anything that might befall the rest. I wonder if we'd be able to handle the falling of the roof. I wonder if we'd be able to melt our way through it.

  I do so only with an idle, morbid interest. It's not something I want to dwell on for long.

  "Stay calm, Amber," Elian whispers, sensing my heightened breathing, noticing the sweat beginning to bead on my temples. "We have to be in control here. You know the fire can overcome us if we're not."

  I refocus, doing so with all I can, my mind turning to calmer places to calm my thoughts. Of simple times in the woods and hills. Of a time when I was no more than a innocent young girl, not a weapon of mass slaughter, here to be deployed on an innocent population.

  Not slaves. Good, innocent people...

  I wince at the words that rumble through my mind, my chest tightening as we walk. With some effort, I focus instead on the senses around me, the shuffling sound of feet ahead, the light glow of Hestia and her Fire-Bloods, the smell of damp within those dank caves.

  It helps, narrows my mind to a picture small enough for me to accept. We continue onwards, moving into a slightly larger tunnel, opening out a little ahead. Our troops breathe a little more easily, as though the tight formation of the walls had been pressing against their lungs. Ahead, I see Kovas, Avon, Dianna and Gailen leading us on, all of them on alert. As with any time we enter into a large cavern, eyes dash left and right, as if expecting to suddenly be set upon by the enemy.