Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  "Calm, Elian," he says, speaking into Elian's ear. "You must fight it, son. You must fight them."

  I see Elian's eyes flicker, some battle raging within. His anger seems to soften just a second, as though Perses is getting through. And then, with a frantic, cackling call, he shakes his head, and bursts free, the flames swirling more wildly around his body.

  "You killed him," he roars, stepping from Perses's grasp, turning towards him. "You murdered my father!"

  I continue to watch on, powerless to help, as Perses staggers backwards. Sections of his frame, his clothes, are set alight, his hands blackened to a crisp, his nose and areas of his cheeks and chin similarly scorched. He looks weakened, his body starting to droop. Yet his eyes, those deep, dark eyes, display a courage and conviction that will not wilt.

  "I didn't murder him, Elian," Perses manages to say, almost choking the words out as he drops to the floor, falling to his knees. He stares forwards, the flames still eating at small sections of his clothing. "I didn't murder your father, Elian."

  "Liar!" roars Elian, reaching out with his palms. The flames gather more fiercely now, collecting into a raging sphere of fire in each palm. "Kovas told me what happened! He told me you murdered him in cold blood!"

  Perses shakes his head, set upon his knees, just as he was that fateful night in the woods. "Kovas lied to you, son. He has twisted your mind, as has the Prime. Your father...he lost himself to the flames. He let the beast within take control. Do not lose yourself as well. Do not follow down that same path..."

  "You...you lie..."

  "Elian," I say, whispering to one side. His eyes flick towards me. I can see the turmoil inside them, the tears wetting their surface. "Listen to him, Elian. We know what the fire can do. Control it. Please, control it..."

  His eyes fall down, blinking away the tears. He forces his gaze back on Perses. "Tell me what happened!" he shouts. "Tell me why you killed him!"

  Perses lowers his pose even more, submitting to Elian's rage. "He lost control, Elian," he whispers. "He was murdering innocent people. He was killing them without cause. I...I had no choice, son. I had to step in..."

  "Don't call me son!" Elian roars. A short burst of fire seems to pulse from his palms, as if ready to surge towards Perses, before stopping suddenly and drawing back in. "Don't call me that!"

  I try to move forward, but feel Jude holding me back. I turn and see the fear in his eyes, watching this wild animal break free. The monster that resides within all the Chosen and the Heralds, always ready to be set loose.

  "Elian, I didn't want to kill your father," Perses goes on. "If I could take it back, I would. But I can't." He slowly manages to get to his feet, his body a wreck. I can see his life-force fading once more. "If you really want your revenge, if you truly believe I am to blame, then see it done. End it, Elian. End it for us both..."

  "Elian, no!" I shout, my voice breaking free. "Don't do it. Don't!"

  He looks towards me, a single tear rolling down his cheek. There's something there, some recognition that this isn't what he wants to be, that it isn't what he wants to do. Yet the other side, the flaming beast, the controls of the Prime, rage against him.

  "Fight it, Elian," I call. "This isn't you. This isn't the man I...I love."

  I feel Jude's hand, set to my wrist as he holds me back, weaken its grip and slip away.

  I don't look at him now. I can't.

  All I can do is look towards Elian, try to draw him back from the brink. If there is any antidote to hate, I know, it is love. He needs to hear it. He just has to...

  "You..." he starts, looking over towards me. "You love me..." His eyes soften, a faint smile rising, and then a heavy frown falls again as the fight goes on behind the curtain. The monster seems to resume control, forcing his eyes back to Perses. For a moment, just a moment, I think he's going to fire. Let the flames burst from his palms and engulf the great man before him, incinerate him where he stands.

  Yet as he stands, staring at Perses, and as the flames churn and gather, and his voice lets loose a terrible roar, he merely drops to his knees himself, and angles his palms to the sky. And from them, great spouts of fire fly forth, rocketing to the heavens like plumes of gas escaping vents in the earth. They soar into the darkness, all the energy freed from his body, great spouts of flame lighting the world up orange and yellow and red.

  And then, as his roar dies down, and all his energy is spent, he merely collapses to the floor in a heap, his radiant eyes falling shut.

  I rush, quickly, from my perch, heading for Perses as he slumps to the floor. Other soldiers step in, pulling Elian away, shackling his hands and wrists. I look up and my voice rips free. "Medic!" I cry. "He needs a medic!"

  One of the medics among the force rushes forward, hurrying from the shadows nearby. He drops to the floor by Perses's side. I can already see the great man weakening, his eyes flickering shut, his breathing growing shallow and coarse. It is far too familiar to me.

  Like that long night in the woods, I'm about to watch my mentor die once more.

  I stand as the medic does his work, turning my eyes about, pacing side to side. "Secretary Burns!" I call out. In my panic and the darkness, and the tears that stain my eyes, I can hardly make out the faces around me. "Secretary Burns, where are you!"

  I see a figure appearing from the edge of camp, the Secretary now rushing to join. His eyes quickly scan and take in the scene. Another figure emerges, Commander Hendricks speeding in at great pace. He slides to a stop in the mud, eyes falling to Perses as the medic sees to his wounds.

  "What on earth...what happened?" asks Hendricks. "I saw spouts of flame from our lookout position. What is..."

  "He's dying, Commander," I say, all but shouting the words. My eyes dart towards Secretary Burns. "Please, we have to help him. We have to give him back his powers..."

  A frown falls over Burns's face as he turns his eyes down to Perses. His breathing is growing weaker now, his mighty frame failing. The medic looks up and shakes his head. "He doesn't have long," he says. "Not like this."

  I see Burns turning towards Hendricks. The two senior leaders share a look.

  "It's not a good idea, Leyton," says Hendricks concernedly. "You give him his powers back, and who knows what he might do."

  "He won't do anything!" I shout. "He just saved a bunch of your men by restraining Elian. He was going to kill me and Jude. He wouldn't have stopped there..."

  "You and Jude are not my men, Amber," says Hendricks coldly. "How do I know this isn't some great big plot cooked up by all of you? Without Ares here, there's no one who could restrain Perses should he decide to go rogue."

  "Why the hell would he go rogue! He's on our side, Commander! We're all on the same side now." I turn once more to Burns, my eyes pleading. "You cannot let him die, Secretary Burns. If you don't act, he will die right here. You need him to take the Prime's place. You cannot let him fall again..."

  "I have no intention of letting him die, Amber."

  The words cut me off, and I draw a sharp breath. Burns drops his eyes to the medic, gesturing for him to stand. "It's time," he says to the man. "Perses has proven himself loyal. He doesn't deserve to see his life end like this. He has a much higher purpose to attend to now."

  "Leyton," says Hendricks, shaking his head. "I'm not so sure..."

  "I know what you think, Glenn," says Burns, interrupting him, "and I thank you for your cautious council. But you have not spent time with Perses as I have. You do not know the man's good heart. President Orlando trusts him. Ares and Kira trust him. And I trust him. Please," he says, looking to the medic. "Administer the antiserum."

  The medic responds, the world falling silent as he rustles into his bag and withdraws a syringe. I watch as he finds an appropriate spot in Ares's charred neck, pressing the needle into his veins. The mighty Olympian lies there now, all but unconscious, his breathing stunted and weak. His lungs wheeze and his skin cracks. Across his chest, the suggestion of blood begins to seep,
as though the wound that severed his heart has reopened.

  The medic presses the antiserum into his blood, withdraws the syringe, and steps back. A deathly silence blankets the darkened plains as we watch the man at our feet. For a moment, I feel as if nothing has changed, his breathing still so weak, his body giving in.

  And then, suddenly, something miraculous happens.

  A strike, as if like lightning, seems to crackle inside him, the supernova in his body coming back to life. I watch in stark awe as his skin, cracked and burned, begins to heal and reseal before my eyes. His chest, so stunted and abbreviated in its motion, suddenly draws in his breath in long, smooth flows. And those eyes, flickering shut as he fell unconscious, open once more, revealing the deep wells that lie beyond.

  Right there, before us all, Perses, former Herald of War, stands to his full, mighty height.

  His posture, more sunken and deflated over the previous few days, turns upright and rigid once more. And his very frame, and structure of his body, appears to stretch out and broaden, stronger than ever before.

  I look up at him and marvel.

  The great man is back.

  "Thank you, Secretary Burns," rumbles his never-ending voice, so calm, so profoundly deep, "for your trust. I will repay it in kind in the days and weeks to come." His eyes work towards Hendricks, whose gaze dips away as if looked upon by a god. "Do not question your caution, Commander," Perses says. "It serves you well. You had every right to question me."

  Even now, I watch as his skin continues to heal, the minor wounds fading away as if they were never there at all.

  "Elian's mind is opening now," he says grandly, looking to me, and then to Burns. "He will be ready to turn. He is ready to break free." He smiles, drawing a long breath of fresh air, as his eyes turn up to the heavens. Above, the night is suddenly thick with stars, the clouds washed away on the breeze. "Love, it would seem," he says, "can overcome hate." His eyes fall to mine. "You turned him, Amber. His feelings for you were stronger than the controls of the Prime. You saved my life. I will always be in your debt."

  "You saved mine," I croak, shaking my head, letting out a sharp breath. "Mine and...Jude's."

  My mention of his name has my eyes turning away. I search towards our tent nearby, set aside of our jeep about forty metres away. And there, standing looking out towards the plains, I see Jude.

  All alone.

  "Go to him," I hear Perses whisper. I turn back to him. Even now, his face is changing. The colour returning, appearing behind the charred skin that fades away. "Make the boy understand." He looks me deep in the eye. "I can see it now," he says. "You love them both, don't you?"

  I feel warm tears building in the corners of my eyes. I nod weakly.

  "Speak to him, Amber. Or I fear you will lose him forever. Go," he whispers. "I'll handle things here."

  I step backwards, and drift away from the others, stepping nervously towards Jude. He continues to look out into the darkness, as though at the edge of a cliff, ready to step forward and into the abyss below. I move in behind him, and stop a metre short.

  "Jude," I whisper. "What I said back there..."

  "Do you remember when we were back on the Fringe," he says, interrupting. His voice is clear, almost worryingly so. "It was, I don't know, two years or so ago, I guess. You'd just had a fight with your parents, and I met you by the lake. We...we stayed up all night under the stars. Just talking, you know. Talking about running away, about escaping everything." He turns towards me. I see the glint of tears in his brown eyes. "Do you remember that night, Amber?"

  I step forward, nodding. "I remember. I'll always remember."

  He smiles and looks back out, as though we're right there now, at the lake's edge, looking out over the water. My parent's house is down the shore to the left. His own home, where he lives with Grace, is many miles off through the woods. It's a place I know so intimately I can draw it up clearly from memory. Staring upon the black canvass, I can see it all before me.

  "I never told you that night," Jude goes on with a whisper. "But it was the night I knew something. Knew something for certain."

  I turn to him. And wait.

  "I knew, right then, that I loved you, Amber. That I'd do anything for you if it meant making you happy."

  He stops, his crooked smile reforming, taking on a note of sadness. A slow breath leaves his lungs as he looks to the black horizon.

  "I think I've come to know, now, that you'll never feel that same way about me," he says, softly, though acceptingly. "That something was always holding you back, stopping you from realising that I was right there, waiting for you. I...I guess what I'm trying to say is..." He turns to me now, looking down into my golden eyes. "If it's Elian that makes you happy, then I don't want to stand in your way. I will accept that, Amber, if it is really what you want."

  I stare up at him, and feel the tears beginning to escape my eyes, working to the tops of my cheeks, rolling down towards my lips. "I...I do love you, Jude," I whisper to him. "I know I've struggled to show it properly before, but I do. We have such a long history together, a bond that runs so...so deep. I...I guess it's different to my time with Elian. I still haven't gotten it all figured out. I still don't know what I want."

  He nods slowly, turning his eyes off into the camp. I can't tell if it's what he wanted to hear. Whether, perhaps, he wanted to be set free.

  "Maybe now isn't the time," he says softly, looking towards the spot where Elian's rage broke free. "We have more important things to do, I guess." He cracks a weak smile. "I just...when you said you loved him like that. It made me realise, just like that night at the lake, how much I love you too. It...it broke my heart a little bit, Amber. To hear you say that to someone else, when I've wanted, for so long, to hear you say it to me."

  I grab his face, and pull his eyes to mine. I stare at him with a gaze of utter truth. "I love you, Jude," I say. And with those words, I pull him into a kiss.

  A kiss that feels so right.

  A kiss that feels so wrong.

  I draw back, more confused than ever. Was it merely the need to protect Perses that forced me to tell Elian I loved him? Does my love for Jude go beyond my feelings of friendship and loyalty, even devotion, towards him?

  It is a choice, now, that can wait. One that, perhaps, will never even materialise. Because the road ahead remains treacherous, and there is plenty more to be done. And until our people are freed, our lands made peaceful, I cannot look to myself or my own happiness.

  And in that, perhaps, I can find a way out of this mess.

  Delay the decision, I think. Let time, and fate, decide.

  130

  I sit within one of the personnel carriers, emptied out now of its troops.

  It has been reformed into a mobile prison and interrogation chamber or sorts, largely to the disgruntlement of the two dozen soldiers who'd been travelling inside it. Now, they've been forced to squeeze in elsewhere, one added here and one added there, spread around the convoy to make some space.

  That space is for Elian. Right now, after what happened last night, nobody is fully trusting him.

  He sits, strapped up along one of the benches opposite me, his wrists and ankles shackled and body fastened into place. Though conscious, his head hangs low. I know it is shame that drives that sunken posture. He is fully aware of what happened last night, and in the days before.

  "I...I'm sorry about your neck," he whispers, as the vehicle bumps along. It's late morning now, our intention to continue at pace, once more, until nightfall. With Ares and his troop rushing ahead, there isn't so much need now for us to hurry at such pace.

  "It's OK, Elian," I assure him. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't you."

  He nods, his head still low. I've been sitting here for a few minutes now, along with two others. It is an intervention, of sorts, you could say. With me now, and sitting at the other end of the spacious, windowless interior, are Perses, returned to his full might, and Secretary Burns. The two ob
serve us quietly as they talk, setting some background noise that helps my conversation with Elian to at least appear to be private.

  It isn't, really. We three are here for a very specific purpose: to lay everything out to Elian, and bring him right back into the light for good.

  "I...I might have killed you," he whispers now. "And last night...I, I'm so sorry. I lost control and...I don't know what happened." He looks up. "Is...is Jude all right? I didn't hurt him too badly, did I?"

  I smile at the look of contrition, of genuine concern, in his eyes. The man who fought Jude last night, who roared insults into his face, isn't the same man sitting before me now.

  "He's fine, Elian," I say. I look into his face, the bruises on his jaw and cut across his cheek. "No worse than you, anyway. What, you think you won that fight?"

  "I...gave as good as I got," he says, managing a weak smile. "He's a strong guy. He must really care about you to protect you like that."

  "He...he does," I say, thinking of all that happened last night, all that was said. It isn't ground I want to cover again with Elian. I have told him before that I can't think about anything beyond friendship with him right now. I told Jude the very same last night. It's a subject I need to put to one side for now.

  "You know why we're here, don't you Elian?" I ask him. The question is direct. His eyes glance across to Perses and Burns. He still seems unable to make proper eye contact with the former. Though he seems to trust, now, that Perses didn't kill his father in cold blood, they will need to speak about it all in more depth. The air, though partially cleared, remains blanketed in a light fog. They may never be friends, but they can put their differences aside in time.

  Elian, sitting deflated ahead of me, nods his head. "I know there's something inside me," he says. "I...I know I wasn't myself last night." He looks up, his eyes fading past the red marks on my neck. "I'd never hurt you, Amber. Not you. Not in my right mind. I hope you know that..."