Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  Yet there remain no soldiers here, no guards protecting the city. Ahead, louder now as we advance, the beating drums of war continue to thud, the hazy air in the distance all lit with red and blue and silver lights, mixing in dramatic, ethereal, beautiful ways.

  "They're there," calls Hestia, at the front with Gailen as the rest of our forces come hurrying through. "Waiting at the gate."

  I follow her gaze and see the gate not far ahead along the wall, our soldiers still there. We rush up towards them, wondering if the gate has been locked too, blocking us off, keeping us stuck in here until we can find a way safely over.

  Kovas would probably love that, I think grimly. A way to prove me wrong...

  It's not the case, it turns, out, the large gate run by a small control room to the side. It isn't even needed. To the left side of the gate, there's a smaller passage, a doorway for men, not machines, to pass through. It looks like it only opens from this side, and therefore remains unlocked. Beyond the open door, a number of our soldiers have already passed, gathering on the other side, staring out towards the much larger urban jungle of Outer Haven beyond.

  We follow quickly through to join them, and find Kovas mid-speech, barking out orders as if this was always his intended route.

  "...continue on as before," he's saying. "Heralds to lead with stronger Phasers." His eyes turn up as Gailen arrives. "Gailen, you too. We'll need your power. Elian, try to keep pace if you can with the rest of the Fire-Bloods. The rest of you, catch up as quickly as you can. The fighting sounds like it's intensifying."

  His eyes work past me again, lips curling briefly as he turns to look down the long, central street head. I have little idea of where we are, exactly, but the architecture here looks distinctly different to the other side of the wall. It's far busier, less clean in its execution and design. It appears to be an older part of the city, worn and tired in places, but far more alive overall. Yet, the signs of damage, even here, are clear enough. Whether they're a result of our bombardment, or their previous conflicts, I can't be sure.

  As we continue onwards, however, I begin to suspect that it's the former, at least closer to the walls of Inner Haven. Our own bombardment, which appears to have now stopped as the battle rages on across the plains outside our camp, has evidently been targeting the outer reaches of the city, limited by the range of our guns. Signs of more significant damage begin to appear as we go, the leading party stretching off ahead once more, the rest of us doing what we can to keep up. To that end, Elian and I stay side by side, sharing our powers, boosting us on quicker. We're able to just about stay in touch with those ahead, as the rest of the non-Phaser Forgers and Sensors, aided by Hestia and her Fire-Bloods follow on behind.

  Soon enough, we're encountering entire buildings crumbled and collapsed, vehicles destroyed and crushed. I see many of both, the vehicles themselves reminding me of the husks and shells we saw upon the old highways on our journey here. Some, however, look more modern, sleeker in design. Others are old, relics of a past long since forgotten, still used here within a city that, unlike Olympus, operates more as they did back then.

  The group ahead require that we boost ourselves often, no longer caring to hide our flame. We hold a shield around us, ready should we come under attack, though make sure to keep our energy reserves intact. Now isn't the time to be wasting it, yet we can't delay in getting there either. Every little boost, every surge, serves to deplete our stores. Were it just me, I'd be feeling the effect, if lightly, already. With Elian beside me, the impact isn't anywhere near as severe.

  I glance back as we go, turning my eyes through the darkness, tall, intimidating buildings looming like great trees either side of us. I see Hestia and her troop following behind, their frames lit bright as ours are, losing ground now as they stay with the rest. I'm not sure they'd be able to keep up even if they wanted, not without reaching the battle in an exhausted state.

  The noise grows, overcoming the fizzing sound of the wind as we rush onwards at speed. The cackling laugh of a thousand guns. The booming sounds of explosions as projectiles strike and giants collide. The distant hum of voices, screaming in pain and bellowing the howls of war, building into a nebulous cacophony as we get ever closer to the outer wall.

  And the lights, the growing haze that fills the sky. It tells of the charges let loose from their energy rifles and ours, the red and blue, the silver and white. And joined, too, by the orange glow of fire, patches of the plains now in flame.

  The tension in me continues to press me onwards, though my mind is now at rest, no longer wrestling with the purpose I'd been given, the duty to slaughter thousands in their sleep. No, this is battle, this is war. I will enter with no compunction to kill to protect our men, our camp.

  A camp which contains...Jude.

  He springs to mind once more, pressing all other concerns away. He's in there now, defenceless, vulnerable. If they break our lines, get into the camp, then he'll have no chance of surviving. And if we fight the Havenites off, if we press them back, then I'm certain his days are numbered anyway.

  My goodwill with Kovas is dead.

  And soon, Jude will be too.

  My conviction locks in, my mind set.

  I know exactly what I have to do.

  106

  We reach the outer wall, passing through the rubble and debris of the part of the city most affected by our bombardment. Though thick and tall and incredibly robust, the external bastion of the city has crumbled after a week's long barrage, weakening along a wide stretch before finally giving in.

  There, at the breach, we encounter our first sign of the enemy. As Elian and I press onwards, I see the Heralds ahead of us, racing immediately into the action. The Heralds of War, born and raised and groomed to kill, thundering forwards to engage the several dozen men firing from behind the chunks and hunks of rock and metal that still stand along the breach, firing out at our attacking troops with their energy rifles and large, defensive guns, holding them at bay and distracting them from the larger fight upon the plains.

  They don't see us coming, only noticing the arrival of the Heralds as they strike. Elian and I touch hands again, securing our bond, powering up, ready to enter the conflict. We don't need to. Not here.

  I watch in quiet amazement as the three men go to work, displaying their very different styles and powers. Gailen, a whirlwind of a man, hurling chunks of rocks at the men, raining down debris upon them. Avon, matching Lady Dianna for sheer speed, his keen eyes able to pick up any attack before it even comes, rushing in and slicing men to pieces with his knives, dodging gunfire as he goes. If one were to hit, I doubt the impact it would have. Protected by his armour and almost impenetrable skin, he's all but invulnerable; silent as a ghost and quick as a bullet, he makes quick work of those he sets upon.

  Kovas, meanwhile, has a more brutal method. Fast, direct, unforgiving, I get little insight into what else he can do. Perhaps his powers are based on sheer will, the man launching himself into the battle with alarming speed and skill, using his dual pistols to fire with supreme accuracy, taking out a dozen soldiers within the blink of an eye, each shot between the slits in their protective helmets. He does so in close quarters, using his physical strength to aid him, ducking and weaving, stabbing hearts and snapping necks with equal amounts of ease and detachment.

  It takes no time at all for the entire defence here to be put down, joining with the other bodies already lying dead among the rubble. Our forces, lying beyond, must have already been battling them for some time. The Heralds have completed the conflict, their inclusion making it nothing more than a rout.

  "Cease your fire!" I hear Kovas roar, a slight pant to his breath, once all enemy soldiers have been downed. "The enemy are dead. We're coming out."

  The fizzing sounds of bullets comes to an end, silencing this part of the battlefield. It only serves to render the battle further away in greater audio clarity, roaring and rattling with a ferocious clamour. With Kovas and the others leaping
over the rubble and out onto the field, the rest of us follow, Elian and I now fully caught up and joining the rest, Hestia and the others still a little way behind.

  The sight of the dead become clear as we leave the city once more, the open plains beyond displaying a morbid sight I've witnessed before. Hunks and lumps litter the place, several dozen of our soldiers killed as they likely attempted to get behind the wall. Those who remain begin moving from their cover beyond, appearing from depressions in the earth, behind chunks of rock and trees, rushing out to join their leader.

  I count a much smaller force than that one assembled earlier, set to provide diversion and storm the city when the time came. Clearly, a few of them already tried that, to fatal effect. Yet, the numbers still don't add up. The dead and those remaining here are nowhere near the force we left behind.

  Kovas recognises that too as he presses onwards, all of us scanning the larger gathering of several hundred men as they approach. There are a number of Titans among them, though none of the size of Atlas. I scan the lumps upon the ground once again, wondering if he's been killed, thinking he might have lost his patience and decided to storm the city himself.

  But, no, there's no one of his scale here.

  "Where are the others?" grunts Kovas, rushing forward towards the commanding officer of the troop. He looks around. "There are hundreds missing. Where's Atlas?"

  "He went, sir," the man says, looking towards the lights in the distance, now growing less distinct as the first signs of daylight begin to bloom. "That way, towards the fighting. He took half our forces and told us to stay here, hold the enemy back from the breach."

  Kovas nods. "Good. Good thinking," he says. "There are none left in the city," he announces loudly, so all assembled can hear. "Our camp, our army, is under threat. It is time for all of us to join the fight!"

  The men rumble, some seeming nervous, hesitant. Even here, among this more seasoned group, there are some who haven't tasted war. And back at the camp, who remains? The least experienced. The most afraid.

  I fear Hestia was right. Most of these men were not ready for war.

  "Now go, for the glory of Olympus! For the Prime! Fight, and win! To victory!"

  Kovas's talent to inspire begins to work its magic, raising aloft his dual pistols as he stands there, side by side with Avon, Gailen, Dianna, all roaring and raising their arms, as one. I feel no such stirring inside me, no such desire to do it for them. No, not now. Other concerns drive me. Other...responsibilities.

  I look at Elian, his eyes ablaze, standing to my side. He nods his head ferociously, baring his teeth, pumping himself up for war. He turns to me and takes my hand, and I feel some of that energy, that drive, flood my body.

  "Come on, Amber! Let's do this!" he says.

  With a growing roar, a resounding war cry, Kovas turns and moves towards the light, leading us into battle.

  We run across the open fields and plains outside Haven, the lands rolling and undulating, peppered with areas of trees and bushes and other groupings of shrubs. Rocks stick and jut out of the earth, fingers of stone providing cover and shelter. Other natural formations do the same, hollows and depressions, small gulleys and rifts struck into the earth, as if scratched by the hand of some great monster.

  Above, the light of day continues to quickly flourish, painting the horizon with colours of deep purple and pink, setting a warm illumination upon the world below. We hurry, rushing towards the summit of a small hill, the city walls looming to our right, the wall of our own making just coming into view in the distance ahead. It stands tall, but badly damaged, our encampment beyond. And there, before it, a great battle rages.

  I look on, wide-eyed, at the many hundreds, even thousands, of figures writhing below. They fight left and right, filling the plains, firing from cover, zipping about, engaging in both ranged and hand to hand combat, as though a bloodlust has settled upon them all, filling the battlefield, driving this madness.

  It's hard, from a distance, to determine our own troops. To my eyes, most of them look the same. Yet some stand out, moving at great speed, rushing and cutting and firing with brutal skill. Dressed in black, they are as shadows to my eyes, a unit not of our army, but theirs. A unit we haven't yet seen, unleashed upon the field.

  Others stand out too, shining as the morning brightens. Dressed in their resplendent armour, they are lights among the darkness, so visible even from here. The Neoromans, under the command of Ares, stationed here to help protect the city. I run my eyes as we rush onwards, trying to count their number. They pepper the land, not grouped in great quantities, fifty or a hundred of them attacking, fighting as if it's all they've ever done.

  I hurry onwards, trying to keep up, Elian now speeding us on with force. His golden eyes are wild, as though he's been taken by the flames, letting the beast within run wild and free. I grab his hand and squeeze it tightly, drawing his eyes to me.

  "Calm, Elian!" I shout. " Don't lose control. We'll kill our men as well as theirs!"

  My words get through to him, and I feel the blaze cool just a little, drawing back inside. The intensity of the battlefield might be getting to him. I know I have to be careful.

  I take more in, my eyes working to draw in as much detail as possible before I enter the fray. It seems that the enemy have been attacking the wall, doing their best to topple it. It still stands, but not as it was. Large chunks have been blasted away, the outer bastion all set to fall. I see enemy Titans there, heavily armoured and fitted with exoskeletons, huge energy guns fixed to their flanks. They fire volleys upon the wall, tearing it apart. Though I can't see behind, I sense that some of our remaining Forgers are there, hastily trying to rebuild it, our Farsights attempting to shoot the projectiles down before they even hit.

  Yet, to the left and right, other flashes of light continue to spread, the enemy battling our own troops around the many sentry posts they've already tested, drawing out the full contingent of our men. It's widespread, the attacks coming from multiple points, a maelstrom to cause widespread panic and confusion amongst our less seasoned soldiers.

  They knew, I think again. Somehow, they knew...

  Their numbers are hard to count, hard to determine. I get a sense that our forces outnumber theirs, perhaps even significantly, yet they attack with more precision, power, and skill. They fight now, on multiple fronts, a hundred mini battles going on across the huge expanse.

  We have no time to stop and hear orders from Kovas. All know now that the goal is simple: destroy them all, take out every last enemy soldier and make safe the camp. To that end, the Heralds go rushing straight into the fray, Gailen whipping up on a wind, Avon, Kovas, and Dianna dashing off at incredible speed.

  I watch as Gailen churns a tornado from thin air, set around his body, pulling him up and into the air as he swoops over the battlefield, hunting down some of the Neoromans as they wreak havoc through our lines. He's met his match in them, my eyes spotting Elementals and telekinetics among their ranks, large chunks of rock and stone and mud, even bodies, being drawn up and thrown about, crashing into others, raining down from above, rendering the battlefield more mad than ever.

  Bodies begin to appear, littering the ground, as we prepare to join the fray ourselves. Linked by our bond, our fire, we draw a stronger shield around ourselves, protecting us as we go. Elian rushes onwards, drawing me with him, hurrying straight after Kovas and the rest.

  "Not that way!" I roar, grabbing his arm, boosting us off to one side, towards a sloping area of land, filled with shallow ridges and ravines.

  "What..."

  "They have it covered," I call. "This way..."

  Ahead, I see a group of enemy soldiers, several of them dressed in regular combat garb, yet others in more distinctive clothing. There are two of those black-wreathed figures, slipping like shadows across the plains, silent, ghostly assassins in the midst of it all. And a powerful Neoroman, wonderfully adorned in silver armour and a red fighting cloak, his flanks fitted with empty shea
thes, two short swords in his hands. He stands tall and heroic, seeming to inspire the regularly outfitted men, urging them on to fight in a strange, exotic tongue.

  We see him, as one, and let the fires run free, aiming a devastating blast in his direction. Great streams of fire flood from our palms, chasing him down and those around him. Several get caught in the stream, roasted, melted right there on the spot, their calls of sheer agony abruptly stopping short. The two soldiers in black see us, skidding to a halt, directing their course immediately towards our position as we stay low, hunkering down, aiming once more. The Neoroman does the same, quick enough to dodge our attack, whipping around in a flanking manoeuvre as he tries to work around us.

  "Full shield!" I hear Elian call, an order we've practiced in training.

  The barrier of heat around us quickly rises, deflecting the shadow soldiers as they rush in, coming at us with knives as if they have an aversion to firearms. They jump athletically, thrusting forward, hitting the shield and bouncing off. I see one inspect his knife, the end melted to a stump. He quickly reaches to his back and pulls a rifle, lifting it, firing. I brace, the bullets again bouncing off us, deflecting away.

  "Heat wave!" calls Elian.

  As one, we send a searing wave of burning air from our bodies, less conspicuous than the fire itself, but just as potent. It spreads out in all directions, though intensified and strengthened in the direction of the enemy firing ahead of us.

  He seems to see it too late, hardly aware as the burning air comes, unable to escape it as it floods right past him, gobbling him up in its searing embrace. Turning, he tries to run, but is quickly overcome, his knees wobbling, body tumbling to the floor and going still, cooked alive where he stands and falls.

  His ally sees it and whips around, trying to speed around us from behind. The heat is still too great, pushing him back, keeping him at bay. He slips off into the cover of a small ravine, dropping down behind the rock, as we advance on him, hands outstretched, ready to strike.