Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  As my grandmother and Kira depart, then, I step towards Commander Hendricks to lend my aid. I notice Ares swiftly rushing towards the northern gate, joining Perses there. They disappear out onto the plains, heading off on their recce to the north.

  As soon as they do, the building and construction units set about their work, the majority of the focus being centred on the northern walls. Huge Titans and Neoroman telekinetics work to place blocks of stone into position, though have little time to create the cement and mortar to bind them. That is where I come in, welding the stone into place with my blazing fire.

  It proves an effective solution, speeding the process and allowing us to bolster the walls significantly. Within a couple of hours or so, the wall is taller and thicker than ever, hardly pretty to look at, but much more durable than before. I'm so invested in the work that I don't notice when my grandmother and Kira return, speeding back from Hunter's Station to report that the Liberation League have been brought up to speed, and their militia is preparing to protect the town should they come under attack.

  "Maybe they should move south temporarily," I suggest to my grandmother, taking a short break from my duties. I wipe my brow of the buildup of sweat, the sun particularly warm right now.

  "Your core temperature is getting too high," my grandmother tells me, evidently considering it a more pressing concern. "You can't use up all your energy building the wall. You need to rest and make sure you're fully recovered for when they come."

  "I will," I say. "And...the people?"

  "Are well set up where they are," she says, "and far too large a group to move. They wouldn't get far even if they left now, certainly not far enough to outrun the Olympians should they give chase. Hunter's Station is the best place for them."

  She turns to look at the wall, pursing her lips. Work is now being done elsewhere, the northern sides of the eastern and western walls of the fort also seeing attention. "You should rest now," she says. "Let me see to this."

  I shake my head. "I feel fine, grandma. I'll rest when the job is done."

  I walk away from her at that, a little fed up of being treated like a child. She may be an experienced Fire-Blood, but I know myself well enough by now. And right now, it's all hands on deck.

  I continue on with my assigned duties, aiding in the speedy reconstruction and reinforcement of the defences. Knowing her influence over me is only limited, grandma instead chooses to join in and speed things up further. We work for another hour or so, the afternoon rushing by quickly. I find myself nicely distracted from what's to come, focussing instead on welding this block or that, fixing one section of the wall, before moving onto another.

  Our efforts bear great fruit, though with several hours gone, we find ourselves running short of supplies. A swift discussion takes place to determine whether we should venture out and fetch more, but it's decided that we've done enough, that time is too short, and that the soldiers need to start turning their minds to battle.

  As I prepare to move off, however, I find myself distracted again by the reappearance of Ares and Perses through the reinforced northern gate.

  They do not return alone.

  Trailing them in, I see a beleaguered group of Neoroman soldiers, Maximus's unit wearily returning from their own recce to the northeast. The Commander himself appears to be slightly injured, his right arm wrapped in a field dressing where the armour has been broken off. Others hold wounds of their own, though none appear fatal. The presence of only eight returning men, however, rather than the dozen they set out with, proves they've suffered greatly on their trip.

  I quickly rush over as the soldiers gather around, keen to find out what happened. It quickly dawns on us all that the two jeeps they took with them are absent too. I hear one of the men report that they were destroyed in a chase, and that a couple of the soldiers died as they crashed. The two others, by the sounds of it, were killed during an ensuing fight, from which the eight survivors only just made it out.

  "OK, that's enough," I hear Ares bellow as the soldiers close in, desperate to hear the news. "Give them some space. Get the injured to the infirmary. And rest up, all of you. The enemy is closing in fast."

  With that, Ares takes Maximus off towards the main castle at the heart of the fort, Perses, Hendricks, and Kira following. Captain Crastus, who also seems to be carrying a minor injury, remains with the men, calling out further orders as the others move up towards the summit.

  I look to my grandmother and we follow too.

  It seems I may not have a chance to rest after all.

  155

  We reach the summit of the tower and, once again, step into Secretary Burns's chambers, where he and Elian remain.

  Maximus, who looks particularly exhausted, is set into a chair. Perses quickly sets about looking at his wounded arm. Peeling away the field dressing, I get a look at a deep, nasty gash. It has the appearance of a wound inflicted by a blade more than a gun, long and thin, though deep enough to hit bone.

  As Perses works to close the wound and reapply a new dressing, Ares updates us on what Maximus has clearly told him already.

  "They were set upon by a group of Olympian soldiers on their way back here," he says gravely. "The jeeps were destroyed and they lost four men. Most of the others have suffered injuries as Maximus has." He looks to his second-in-command. "He may not be fit to fight."

  "I can fight," I hear Max grimace, setting his teeth as Perses tightens his bandage. "I'm not going to sit here and hide while..."

  "The fort will need defending too, Maximus," Ares says. "We are planning to ambush the incoming forces and disable their siege weapons. The fort may well come under attack as well when the fighting breaks up. You won't be wasted here, I can assure you."

  "I don't need a fully working arm to be effective, Ares," Max counters. His eyes flash on a table to one side, lifting it immediately into the air with his substantial telekinetic powers. A moment later, the legs rip off, pulled like the legs of a spider from its body, before the entire mess goes tumbling to the ground with a series of wooden clunks. "I can fight as well as I ever have," he finishes with a grunt.

  "Rest up," Ares tells him, "and we'll see where we stand in the hours to come." It seems a concession of sorts, though not a full endorsement. Max, though not looking entirely pleased, nods his acceptance of the ruling.

  "Who did this?" asks Burns, turning the conversation back on track.

  It seems Ares hasn't yet been given that information. All eyes turn to Max.

  "One of their Heralds," he says, scowling at the memory. He looks to Perses. "He wore the same armour as you. The one who can fly."

  "Herald Gailen," I say. "We spotted him yesterday on the way here..."

  Max nods, his jaw tight. "He took out the jeeps from the sky," he says. "Forced them to crash into one another. Most of us got out, but he was on us in a flash. Killed a couple more as his soldiers joined. We only just managed to fight them off and get away."

  "How many soldiers did he have with him?" Burns asks calmly.

  "Fifty. A hundred. I'm not exactly sure. We didn't stick around long. We knew we were outmatched." He looks to Perses again. "He's quite formidable, this Herald Gailen. Flight is an almost unheard of power, especially with that sort of control."

  "Gailen is an especially gifted Elemental," Perses nods. "He has a particularly strong bond with the wind, and uses it to great effect. This enables him to fly. He is the strongest agent Kovas has. You must be...wary of him."

  Perses's eyes drop away, his voice going with it. There's a sudden deflation to him, the warring conflict evident again. Gailen is a brother, a friend, a man whom he has known for many years. And here he is, helping us learn how to defeat him. His lips draw tight and his eyes turn away. The conversation resumes without him.

  "We will deal with this Herald Gailen," comes Ares's voice, "if and when the time comes. If he can fly, be sure to watch the skies. I assume he is a Hawk as well?"

  His eyes move to Perses
. Seeing that the great Olympian is no longer engaged, they continue on to me.

  "Yes," I say. "He's a Farsight, Phaser, Wind-Blood, and more."

  "Then if he attacks from above, he'll have no trouble seeing us through the darkness. They will arrive after dark and we have to assume they'll attack immediately. It will also provide us with the same opportunity." He glances to Perses again. "We've considered a likely staging point for Kovas's army. We can't be sure, of course, of where he will land, but have a firm idea. There are a number of deep fissures nearby that will conceal us. Some of them are linked, so we'll be able to move around. We'll come up behind them and to their flanks. Commander Hendricks, have the ladders been built?"

  "They have," Hendricks says. "We've made them adjustable to cater to the varying depth of the chasms."

  "Good. We will move into position shortly. The weather looks clear enough, so hopefully we'll have some moon and starlight to guide us. It will, however, favour Hawks and those who can see in the dark. The rest will be at a slight disadvantage when the fighting begins."

  I feel a slight tension at the comment. It's something I haven't considered as yet, the fact that we might be doing battle under the cover of night.

  "How many of our elite troops have enhanced vision?" Ares goes on, looking to the various commanders. "I know that the majority of my Imperial Guards do. Maximus, what about the soldiers you brought from Neorome?"

  "The same," Max grunts. "Most of them have night vision."

  "And the Stalkers?" Ares says, looking to Hendricks.

  "The Stalkers are more or less standardised in their genetic make-up," Hendricks informs him. "They have enhanced vision, hearing, speed, reflexes, strength, and more. So, in short, all of them."

  "And your City Guards and other hybrids?"

  "More varied," Hendricks answers. "I don't know precise numbers, but most won't be Hawks. We have a number of Hawk-Dasher hybrids - or those we call 'Hawkers' - among the old Nameless troops, as well as the new breed of City Guards. Beyond that, the others are a little more specialised in their enhancements and gifts."

  "Then perhaps it's best if your non-Hawks remain here to protect the fort. It will be well lit and thus the lack of light won't be such a problem."

  "And...what about me?" I ask, feeling as though I need to raise my own concerns. "I have no enhanced vision. I'm not going to be much good if I can't see what's going on."

  Ares looks at me, as though rather forgetting that I was a part of his plans. He seems to ponder the minor predicament for a moment before voicing a possible solution.

  "Your powers are unique, Amber," he says. "Quite...devastating, when put to use. If we could get you into position, you could use them to great effect. A large portion of Herald Kovas's army could fall to your flame before they even have a chance to react."

  I feel a familiar, unpleasant sensation of unease drench through me as he speaks, a lump creeping up my throat like a trapped insect trying to escape. The wording is all wrong. My powers being 'put to use'. Using them 'to great effect'. I've seen all this before under Kovas's command. The circumstances may be vastly different, but it isn't something that I want to return to.

  Mass killing, on command. It makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  "I...I'd rather not," I find myself saying. The room falls quiet. I can sense that they're sensitive to my position. "I'll fight when I have to," I explain. "But...I don't want to be used as a weapon anymore."

  Ares draws a breath, his great chest filling. His height seems to expand with it, the top of his head all but touching the stone ceiling. "Of course, Amber," he says to me. "I can see that it was an inappropriate request."

  I nod quietly. "I want to help," I assure him. "Just...not like this."

  "Then perhaps it's best if you remain at the rear during the first wave," he suggests. "We will look to ambush them in secret. For that, we will need those with enhanced vision and speed. Once the fighting starts, however, the battlefield will be better lit. And, of course, you'll be well lit yourself. That is when you can enter the fray. Does that sound more agreeable?"

  "Yes," I say quietly. "Thank you, Ares."

  He smiles down at me before moving on once more, the conversation rushing along quickly from that point on. Pulling up another table from the edge of the room, he draws out a rudimentary map upon its surface, using a thick, impossibly strong finger to gouge into the wood. It's a simple depiction of the location of the fort, and the likely attack point Kovas will select. He briefly takes us through the plan - where we're going to lie in wait, where we should attack from - before turning to Perses for confirmation.

  The great Olympian finally re-engages, looming over all but Ares as he steps forward from one side. He scans the simply drawn map with his deep, dark eyes. Then, reaching forward, he adds his own detail, using his own finger to scratch into the table as Ares did.

  "Kovas will place his energy cannons at the rear," he says, pressing a finger so hard into the table it all but cracks. "They will be protected primarily from the front. Removing those from the picture should remain a high priority. Without them, his attempts to breach the fort will be far less effective."

  The others nod, aware of the plan.

  "We'll form several strike teams with the express purpose of taking them out," Ares says. "How many can we expect?"

  "Hard to say," says Perses. "For a fort of this size, two or three sounds likely, but Kovas may bring more. That will be enough to reduce it to rubble within an hour or two."

  "We'll need to keep some of our finest snipers here," Hendricks says. "Just a few, to try to shoot down the projectiles before they hit. It will also be important to evacuate this tower," he says to Burns. "It will be a primary target and hard to miss."

  "I would also suggest that you remove that fleet of vehicles you have parked down in the main courtyard," my grandmother adds. "You don't want to see them destroyed, do you? If Kovas targets the south side of the fort, they most certainly will be."

  "Good point, Alberta," Burns says. "I shall have them moved out of the base to the south."

  "There's a small ridge less than a mile out that might be suitable," my grandmother goes on, glancing at me with a wry smile. "We almost fell into it on the way here. I noticed a possible way down as we passed by. It should be big enough to hide your fleet for the time being."

  "Thank you, Alberta," says Burns. "That is most helpful."

  "It probably doesn't need saying," Perses adds, "that the success of your mission will depend on you remaining undetected. If Kovas is smart, he will send out scouts to scour the forward route. It would be best to avoid them, if you can, rather than kill them. That may raise the alarm. We have some powerful Sensors here in Olympus, not only within the military, but within the civilian population as well. You must stay silent, still, and mask your scents. It would be better to be dispersed than too closely grouped. A Tracer may well zero in on that many smells collected into a single space. Spread out and the scents will be harder to detect."

  Ares looks over to Kira at that, the resident sense expert nodding along her agreement.

  "It's good advice," she concurs. "The same goes for group movement. Single, spread out footsteps are much harder to detect than a group of a hundred moving as one. Even the lightest footsteps can add up to something a gifted Bat will be able to perceive and then track. The movement of the army will mask our approach and position, but we still have to remain wary."

  I turn to the window as the conversation continues, zoning out a little as the weight of it all begins to fall. There, enjoying the warm breeze as it passes through the gap, Elian stands, looking on without a voice here now. He tries to summon a smile to soothe me as we lock eyes, but it only comes out nervous and forced. I smile back, trying to do something similar, yet know that my expression only manifests in the same way.

  Because right now, I can't help that. I'm not used to fighting at night. I'm not used to fighting my countrymen. Hell, I'm hardly used to
fighting at all.

  Yet in the hours to come, I'll be doing all three.

  And beyond the stone window, outside the fort, the light is just starting to change.

  My eyes are drawn back towards the group as a short silence falls. I notice that others, too, are turning to look through the window, quite aware of the time.

  "The sun is preparing to set," Ares says, his voice enveloping the room. "It seems we are out of time. And now, we must go."

  My heart begins to beat more furiously with those words. I'd hoped to catch some rest, to restore the depleted energy in my stores. I feel fine, of course, though am aware that I've been working hard for several hours now.

  The others begin filing out of the room, moving down to the main yard to gather up the troops. I stay behind briefly, stepping over to Elian. We share no words, only a brief hug. I draw him tight and clutch him hard. It may be the last time I ever see him, but when is that not the case? I've grown used to saying goodbye now. Much as it hurts, I'm able to control it. I master it now as I do the flame.

  With a final look into his golden eyes, I turn and step away, nodding towards Secretary Burns as I depart.

  "Good luck, Amber," he says to me. "Free your mind of doubts, and you will soar."

  I frown as I look at him, then feel my grandmother leading me away. She pulls me quickly into the corridor outside of the room, then drags me into a fierce embrace as we stand there, alone.

  "You will make our people proud tonight," she says, holding me tight. "You'll become the hero we need, Amber. The hero I could never be."

  I try to pull away, to look into her eyes, but feel her still holding on. I sense a glow around her, the gloom of the stone corridor beginning to bloom to life, lit orange and red as the fires begin to flicker around her frame.

  I frown, and try again to draw back.

  Again, she doesn't let me.

  "You will need all the help you can get tonight, Amber," she says. "I wish I could be there with you, but my time is done. Tonight is your time. And this will help."