Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  I turn to her and nod. It's a simple gesture that conveys a simple truth.

  We have to stay and see this through.

  She smiles at me, knowing she has my support and backing, before turning to the others again.

  "This isn't a decision," she says quietly, finally breaking the silence, "that should be taken lightly." She looks to Judith specifically. "Or without sleep," she adds. "Passions are running high, I know, but it's important that we think about this rationally. You all know my position, and we all know Judith's. I believe that we are only strong if we remain united. If we break up, our component parts may fail, to the ruin of us all. One way or another, we must stand together."

  Judith lets out a breath of air through her nose, her nostrils fluttering as she shakes her head. "I will not stay, Alberta," she says, her voice shallow now as she reasserts her position. "I cannot stay." She looks my grandmother right in the eye. "Over half my people are gone already. I will not abandon them to leave these lands alone."

  "We'll send people out to find them," grandma says, nodding assertively. "Where did you split up? They can't have gotten far."

  "No, you misunderstand." Judith takes another, exasperated breath. "They will not come back, no matter what you say. And I will not stay either. I have trusted you long enough, Alberta, but you've taken us as far as you can. You have a history with the Children of the Prime that clouds your judgement. This...this is a personal vendetta for you, and always has been. You want to see them suffer. You want to see Olympus fall."

  My grandmother's face tenses, a golden glow flickering behind her eyes.

  "That is way below the belt, Judith," growls Burton. "Alberta's first and only priority has always been the people of the Fringe. How dare you insinuate otherwise..."

  "I'm not insinuating it, Burton, I'm downright saying it." She lifts a snarl onto her weary lips. "You've always been her loyal attack dog. That's why she made you her number two in the first place. Your words are just an echo of hers. I give them no weight at all."

  Burton shifts his position, his posture tightening. Were Judith a man, I suspect he'd send a fist her way. The position of his body has that look.

  It takes Keith to step ahead of him, large hands to his shoulders, to calm him down. With a few heavy breaths, his posture deflates a little, like an overstuffed cushion stolen of its filling. He has no words of response, his eyes drawing back to my grandmother as she speaks.

  "Thank you for your support, Burton," she says softly. She looks decidedly hurt by Judith's suggestion, as she turns to look at her. "I'm sorry you think like that, Judith," she says. "Of course, if your heart is set on it, there's nothing I can do to stop you leaving." She turns despondently to Keith. "Keith, please take Judith to the stockrooms. Give her the weapons and armour she needs. I pray it will be enough, Judith, I truly do." She shakes her head slowly. "After all these years, I'd hoped you'd think more of me. Good luck, Judith. I mean that sincerely."

  She turns away at that, leaving the tent, and a deep, penetrating silence, behind.

  170

  BRIE

  The morning air is thick with excitement, a feeling of ecstasy permeating the square.

  I guide my eyes upon the masses, a smile gliding on my lips. "Hundreds," I say. "Many hundreds are free."

  "Good," whispers the Overseer. "How very good. But, not as many as yesterday?"

  I frown, digging for the memory. "Yesterday?" I whisper. It comes, suddenly, as though it was always there. "Oh yes, of course. It was a thousand yesterday, wasn't it?"

  "It was," says the Overseer, a soft but playful rebuke in his tone. "And today? Hundreds? How many hundreds, Brie?"

  I scan again. "Seven," I say. "About seven hundred, I feel."

  "Hmmmm, I suppose we can have no complaints about that," the Overseer remarks. "After all, there are only, what, less than two thousands people gathered here today?"

  "A little under," says Minerva, her voice ever an alluring chant. "About one thousand, nine hundred. I would say seven hundred successful awakenings from that pool is quite excellent." She smiles warmly to me. "Well done, sister."

  "Thank you, Minerva," I say. "Will I have another chance to improve tomorrow?"

  My eyes find the Overseer, whose glint with green and gold. "Of course," he says. "So long as more people come, you will have the chance to free them."

  "And meet them?" I ask. I frown again, trying to fully recall what happened yesterday. "Didn't I meet them yesterday?"

  "You did," the Overseer says. "And yes, of course you can. Let me guide you, child."

  Everything is familiar, as I move down the steps, past the Brutes on guard, and into the crowd. Soldiers form up behind us, following as we go. I hear words of praise and thanks ring out. I see many people being ushered away, moved from the square in rough fashion.

  It is a joyful experience, certainly, to be so worshipped, and I begin to notice that it isn't merely the Fringers who have now come. Around the edges of the square, and upon the balconies of the grand buildings that surround it, and even down the streets that stretch away upon the sloping hill, I see people. People in colourful dress, from all races and cultures. People of various powers and gifts, all come here to watch.

  "Everyone knows you now, Brie," the Overseer says, noticing my eyes shift and drift. "They come to praise you too. You are special among them, among us all. They all know this now."

  Time moves past, events blurring. I find my memory tickled sometimes, a thought or recollection coming so clear, so bright. Yet they fade with as much speed, like fireworks flashing in a dark night, before quickly disappearing back into the gloom.

  Among the praising and the worship, a strange thought comes. It is not from my recent time here - though I'm struggling, now, to remember just how long I've been within this city - but from many months ago, and many miles away.

  It is Minerva who sparks the memory, as I look into her face, and especially those eyes. They are wondrous, beautiful, but not entirely unique. The very same eyes as her brother possessed, sparkling blue, ethereal and divine.

  I see her, and suddenly I see him. I hear her soft words in my ears, and his own beguiling intonation rustles in the back of my mind.

  "You are a goddess, Brie," Nestor had said to me, many months ago when he had me under his spell. "Even among the worthy, the gifted, you are truly special."

  The memory comes as clear as a cloudless sky. I turn my eyes upon the masses all around me, and suddenly realise just how many there are. Thousands upon thousands of people, all looking at me. It is as though Nestor's words have been fulfilled.

  I am a goddess, I think. Even here, in the city of gods, I am truly special...

  I continue on, the memory sticking for a while, before gradually merging with the dull space in the back of my head. Each time it brings a mild confusion, before that, too, fades away. No spate of anxiety lasts long. The moments of lucidity, where I see all this for what it truly is, are speedily consumed by the beast within, gobbling up all free thought, ravenously feasting, day and night.

  As we go, I see a figure I know, moving quickly through the crowd. He is a boulder among pebbles, pushing easily through the people as a small cohort of soldiers follow. He marches right for us, stopping before the Overseer. In the cold light of morning, his scarred face is grimly pronounced.

  "Captain Krun," the Overseer says, looking up at the oversized Brute. "You survived, then."

  Survived? I think. I stare at the man's bulbous face, another memory surfacing. He led those soldiers I strengthened, I think. He...he marched with Kovas to the battle at...at the fort.

  "Only just," grunts Krun. "Me and a handful of my men got away..."

  He looks battle-worn and weary, his armour covered in soot and showing scorch marks.

  "Yes, we know what happened," the Overseer says. "Herald Gailen flew quickly back to update me. Herald Avon followed soon after. They returned yesterday. What took you so long?"

  "I was on fo
ot," he says. "It's two hundred miles, Master Overseer. We had injured with us. We've been going all day and night..."

  "Yes, well don't puff and pant about it, Captain," says the Overseer. "We have heard reports, but perhaps you might have additional insight. No one has yet returned from the battle just outside the fort. Were you there, with Kovas?"

  "I was," he says. "Kovas..."

  "Is dead. I know."

  The Overseer looks to Minerva. "Would you carry on, Minerva," he says. "Take Brie around for a little longer. The Heralds and Chosen are going to want to hear this."

  Minerva nods. "As you wish," she says smoothly. "I have no personal interest in such matters."

  "As I'm aware," smiles the Overseer, seeming entirely unperturbed by what he's heard. "Krun, you've always wanted to walk the Sacred Steps, haven't you?"

  Krun blinks heavily, his tongue suddenly seeming paralysed. "I...um..."

  "I'll take that as a yes. It's a rare honour, and you've earned it. Come, follow me. Leave your men behind."

  They move off together, Krun's legs seeming to grow suddenly weak. I don't feel as if it's because of his long journey back here, but the nerves coursing through them.

  They blend into the crowd, as the people start to consume me again. I find my eyes drawn to the shoulders and head of Krun, still visible for a time above all the rest, until he fully fades away.

  "Come now, sister, don't concern yourself with such barbaric matters. Look, the people are here for you. Don't you want to see them?"

  Her alluring voice draws me back, and I turn again to look at the figures before me, bowing, kneeling, genuflecting. Part of me loves the praise, the adoration.

  But something deeper sees it as so very, very wrong.

  I grow distracted, attempting to cling to memories that try to fade. I work hard to stop them, linking from one memory to the next, one piece of information to another. Soon, my mind is conjuring a full image of what I know. Of the battle that took place at the fort, a battle that must have taken place a day or two ago now. A battle between the Heralds of War and their forces, against those of New Haven and Neorome...

  My people.

  I stop in place, and turn my eyes to the stairs. In the distance, I can see Krun marching up, led by the Overseer. I make to follow, stepping away from Minerva. She speeds back to my side. "Stop, sister. Where are you going?"

  "I need to know what's happening, Minerva," I say.

  "Ignore your curiosity, Brie. It serves no purpose here, does nothing to aid you in your calling."

  I shake my head, pause, and then step off again. Again, she speeds to my side, grey robes flowing behind her.

  "Sister, come now," she says, gently taking my arm. "We have plenty to do today. You have awakened the Fringers, yes, but we have soldiers awaiting you in the bases and camps. We have a number of them to visit this afternoon."

  Soldiers, I think. Soldiers I've strengthened...

  I turn on her. "No," I say, staring into those beguiling eyes. "I said I want to know what's happening, Minerva." I flash, with all I have, into her head. "I mean it, sister."

  I draw back, and see her chin slowly dipping into a nod. Her eyes flicker, confused, temporarily glazing over. "Of...of course, Brie," she says. "As...as you wish."

  I turn away, not quite grasping the importance of the moment, and begin marching towards the stairs. Minerva trails behind me now, not stopping me or speeding to my side.

  I reach the steps and wave the two Brutes aside, moving with enough speed to cause the crowd to gasp and split. Minerva rushes to follow, catching up as I step past the Brutes and begin my journey to the summit. I press on quickly, Minerva unable to keep up, reaching the top and scanning. I haven't used my Hawk-eyes for a while. They take in the world in a flash, as I see a grouping of figures gathered at the heart of the plateau.

  I move towards the small congregation, grouped in the courtyard where important meetings take place. My arrival is quickly spotted, and the Overseer steps towards me.

  "Brie," he says, his eyebrows knitting tight. "Aren't you supposed to be down there with the people?"

  He looks over my shoulder. Minerva hasn't yet reached the top of the steps.

  "I want to know what's happening," I say.

  I scan the grouping of people ahead. Krun sits, awe-struck, eyes taking in the plateau, as if he'll never get the chance again.

  He's probably right.

  I see Herald Gailen, and Herald Avon, the latter with bandaging around his right shoulder. I see Lady Dianna, the Chosen Phaser, as well as a few others whose names I don't recall. One, I know, is the Chosen Forger. Another is the Chosen Earth-Shaker. There's a woman in robes of blue, yellow, and white. I know, by instinct, that this is their new Chosen Skymaster.

  They are a disparate group, men and women of varied power and skill. But right now, they all have one thing in common.

  Each of them looks troubled.

  "Brie, this isn't going to be interesting to you," the Overseer says to me. "You are here to free people. Why should you concern yourself with matters of war? That is your past, not your future. Do not sully yourself with such unsavoury topics."

  I manage to stand my ground. I see a slight twitch in the Overseer's eyes, as though surprised that I haven't turned and moved away. It lingers, that look, for only a moment, before a smile returns, so very different. It's as though he's thought of something, something he likes. He looks at me straight and then turns his arm towards a chair. "But, if you insist," he says, "then who am I to deny you?"

  I move towards a chair, and take a seat. Across the plateau, I hear the footsteps of Minerva, hurrying now to join us. She slows as the Overseer raises a hand. They share a look, and she stops, standing back to one side, panting and still looking confused.

  "OK then, Krun," the Overseer continues calmly, his robes draping comfortably upon his frame as he relaxes back into his seat. "You were saying?"

  "Y-yes," says Krun, suddenly finding himself far above his pay grade. "It's...um, Herald Amber." He looks to Gailen. "She...she's learned to fly."

  Gailen slowly nods his head, as if the news isn't anything unexpected to him. I wonder if he already knows this, if he was fighting in this battle. To me, it comes as a great surprise.

  She can fly, I think, trying to conjure an image of Amber, her golden form shooting skyward, wreathed in dreadful flame.

  It brings a muted smile.

  "We saw something like that," Avon confirms, "from the northern plains outside the fort. It...it wasn't easy to see clearly whilst fighting. But, I thought I saw..." He shakes his head. "This is how you were defeated? It was Amber?"

  Krun dips his head. His eyes look haunted. "She killed hundreds," his heavy voice whispers. "There...there was nothing we could do."

  "Nothing," grunts Avon, puffing from his nose. His eyes turn to Gailen. "Herald Gailen will defeat her. His wind is more powerful than her flame."

  Gailen's eyes fix, though hold a frame of doubt.

  "She took you by surprise," Avon continues, "that is all. We cannot have expected to have to fight our own people...

  "And Perses?" asks Dianna. A sudden silence takes hold. "We've heard rumours already." Her deep, green eyes narrow in distress. "Can you confirm it, Krun?" she says softly.

  Krun nods. "Perses is alive," he says, causing light exhales of breath among the group. "He fights with the enemy now..."

  "Traitor!" The word spits quickly from Avon's mouth, as he stands to his feet. I see Gailen shaking his head, eyes firing beneath a tight-knit frown. The others proffer similar sentiments.

  Only Dianna appears circumspect about it. "Can we be so surprised?" she asks. "We know they have powerful telepaths. Someone clearly turned him to their side."

  A few eyes drift to me. "Did you know about this?" growls Avon.

  The memory clears in my mind. I frown, and nod.

  "And you think she's fully turned, Master Overseer?" Avon calls out angrily, turning to the old man. "How d
id you not see this in the girl's mind? Or you, Minerva? You spend all day in there, don't you? How did you see nothing of Perses!"

  "Because she wasn't looking for it," the Overseer answers calmly. "You know nothing of telepathic power, Herald Avon, but you can clearly see how uniquely gifted Brie is. Do you not think she can hide things from us, if she is so inclined?"

  "But from you, Master Overseer?" says Avon. "How can that be?"

  "There is no point in explaining it, Avon," the Overseer says. "And nor does it matter how all of this happened. We look forwards, not backwards. And you especially need to remain calm. You are Chief Herald of War now. It is down to you to arrange the defence of this city, and the defeat of our enemy."

  The words fall heavy on the man. He can never have anticipated being in this position. His fellow Heralds have been dropping like flies, whether taken by his enemies, or killed in battle. It doesn't seem to be a particularly auspicious title to hold, Chief Herald of War, Hammer of the Prime.

  He takes a few moments to think on it, and let it sink in. "I will need more aid," he says, after a long pause. "Herald Gailen and I are not enough."

  "What about the Neoroman boy, Marcus?" asks the Chosen Earth-Shaker, a man who specialises in vast telekinetic power. He is a small man, though size doesn't matter for his kind. Like me, it is his mind that counts.

  "Marcus?" asks Dianna. "He is too new to this city to lift to such a rank, Master Tellus. We must look within our own forces."

  "Marcus is extremely gifted," the Overseer says. "I have spent some time with the boy, and I do believe he has more to give..."

  His eyes wash over me, as the conversation continues.

  "That may be," Dianna says, "but he is a foreigner, and a Neoroman. How can he possibly come straight to the summit after so short a time?"

  "There is precedent for it, Dianna," says the Overseer. "Amber wasn't here long before she joined the ranks of the Heralds."

  "No, but she is from these lands, at least," says Dianna, her white hair catching the light. She has a dazzlingly pure complexion, quite a striking woman with those green robes and deep emerald eyes. Eyes that remind me a little of Kira...