Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  "Where?" I ask, before stepping after them. "Where are we to go?"

  "South," the Overseer says. "Where the people await."

  He flashes a smile with that, and turns, heading off into the darkness. I watch him go for a moment, confused, before feeling fingers take my hand once more.

  "Come, Brie," Marcus whispers, his warm voice hugging me tight. "I know the way."

  "You...do?"

  He nods at me, and smiles. "I do."

  We climb up into the hills, the smog-covered city so far away, the air shaking lightly with the sounds of distant bombardment. I can see the various camps set up on each side of Olympus, the largest way to the south, the entire city encircled by twinkling lights in the night, every way in and out watched and protected by sentries and soldiers.

  But not here, hidden in the hills. No one is watching these lands.

  Silent, and secret, we head off into the night.

  180

  KIRA

  I stand and stare ahead at the city, still consumed by the swamp of fog, earthy and brown and constantly swirling. So far, for most of yesterday, last night, and this morning, we've made little impact upon the wall, the relentless assault yielding meagre reward and profit.

  The scouts have reported that fact, some of them managing to get close to the city itself, a dangerous task, certainly, and one always given to our fastest Dashers. Their job is simple, really - to rush in, and not be taken out by the snipers on the walls, or the city defences which, we already know from Perses, are also quite formidable when put to good use.

  A couple have died already in the task, one that goes some way to prove Decimus's ruthless streak. He seems willing to sacrifice men if it means learning a little of the city he wishes to take. Yet of those who have made it back, a rather troubling truth has been reported - we are not making headway, and while the walls are being constantly hit, they are also being speedily repaired as well by the Forgers hidden behind them.

  "I wonder if they'll tire," I say, staring out, scanning to see if I might spot something others have missed. "Their Forgers, I mean. They must run out of steam eventually, right?"

  Ares is with me, accompanying me on my little venture this morning. We're not too far from the main base to the south of the city, nor the blockade over to the east either. Somewhere almost equidistant between the two, perhaps, and far enough from the city to be out of reach of their attentions.

  "It depends how many they have, Kira," Ares intones deeply. "Not even Perses knows how many might be left. If they are working in shifts, then perhaps they may never tire. If the bulk of the work is being performed by a few, then it might be another matter."

  "Is that partly why General Decimus is attacking from four sides?" I ask. "To spread the point of attack and try to tire them out?"

  "It's part of the reason," Ares informs me. "The General has a brilliant mind for strategy. Any plan he concocts is usually multi-faceted. Either way, right now it's a case of waiting. We have time on our hands, after all. With the city blockaded, they have nowhere to go. Sieges are often like this, Kira." He turns to look at my left ankle. "Anyway, gives you more time to heal. How are you feeling by the way?"

  "Oh, good," I say, nodding, my mood rather improved these last couple of days. Dom, for obvious reasons, has a part to play in that, but the expedited healing of my injury has too. The only real raincloud in the otherwise clear skies of my mind, remains Brie, and the difficulty we're having in getting into the city.

  That is why Ares and I are here. Hopefully today will help shed some light on her current predicament...

  "The rehab is going well, then?" Ares goes on.

  "Pretty well, yeah. I have another session later on, actually. A couple more of those, and I'm told my ankle will be back to almost full mobility."

  "Excellent news. You do seem brighter of spirit. Those days we spent on the Sacred Plains appear to be long behind you now."

  "They are," I say, recollecting that rather unpleasant journey. It had nothing to do with Ares, or his company, of course, merely the dark pit of self-doubt and ill-confidence I began to fall into.

  "Right, shall we get to it then, Kira?" Ares goes on, looking ahead to the small grid, largely concealed amid the rugged terrain. "The General permitted my accompanying you, but I don't think he wants me gone long."

  I nod, not entirely sure why I'm delaying. I suppose it's a fear that I won't discover what I want to discover, or indeed anything at all, in fact. The last time I came here, and ventured into the sewers, I witnessed, through the neural bridge to Brie's mind, her first meeting with the Prime upon the hill. It was a profoundly strange experience; with the help of Zander, it was as though I was watching the world through Brie's eyes, seeing what she could, even sensing the wondrous joy the Prime emitted, when they looked into her eyes.

  I still remember that strange feeling of bliss, even if I got only a rebound of it, a watered down version as it spread from Brie's mind, down the neural pathway, and right into my own. I am concerned, now, of experiencing that again. I am concerned, now, of just what I might see...

  I trail behind Ares, then, dragging my heels a little as we move carefully forwards. The walls are some way off from here, the upper palisades hidden amid the fume. I suppose, aside from limiting our own view of the city, it does the same for them. The Hawks up there, keeping lookout from the towers and walls, must be similarly limited in what they can perceive.

  It seems a negative tactic to me, and a telling one. The Olympians are frightened, I realise. Though they may be using Brie to strengthen their troops, and awaken new ones, they still fear what the Neoroman legion can bring. They fear the likes of Ares, Maximus, Perses, and Amber, I know. Such individuals can change the course of any battle, just as Amber did at the fort.

  But can they change the course of an entire war? I wonder, as we reach the grate, and Ares pulls it aside. Perhaps only Brie can do that...

  We descend into the depths of the sewers, that familiar scent of human excrement immediately filling my nose. I turn to Ares with an apologetic frown as we reach the bottom, setting our sights towards the north. "Do you have a heightened sense of smell?" I ask him. "I'm not sure I've ever actually asked you that."

  He lifts half a smile. "Not as heightened as yours, Kira," he says. "Perhaps marginally augmented, but nothing like my sight and hearing."

  "Well, either way, I apologise for forcing you down here again." I crinkle my nose, wincing against the stink. "Let's not overstay our welcome, yeah? You can imagine how bad this is for me."

  "I'd propose that it would be bad for anyone," he says, trying to breathe through his mouth. "You don't need an enhanced sense of smell to perceive an odour this strong."

  With my ankle on the mend, we can move at some pace, a small mercy at least as we work into the stinking darkness, my fingers pinching steadfastly at my nose as we go. It's a decent distance, the opening to the sewer a good mile or so from the outer walls, though we cover the ground at a reasonable speed. Naturally, Ares takes the lead should we be sprung upon by some trap, watching closely for any such signs as we press on.

  It seems as though the Olympians consider these sewers no such threat, and impossible to use in order to gain access to the city. I suppose, from down here, there's little anyone could do to achieve that, the end of the sewers merely emptying into the deep moat, the imposing walls of Olympus across the wide gap, and rising tall into the skies.

  We reach our destination in good time, to find the end of the sewers hidden amid the fog. It's thick and difficult to breath in, a more concentrated version of what we experienced when travelling across the Sacred Plains. Then, of course, the Skymasters were tasked with concealing a vast area, thus causing the fog to be more dilute. Here, it is dense and thick, a soup through which we can barely see. Each breath becomes difficult, the dust tickling our throats and lungs. When we reach the bars at the end of the sewer, the moat ahead is hardly visible, and the walls beyond almost impossible to
perceive.

  "OK, Kira," Ares says, coughing out the words, as the distant rumbling of the bombardment continues. "Do what you are here for."

  I nod to him, as he turns away, stepping a little down the tunnel in order to watch for threats. I stay where I am, pushing right up to the bars at the end of the sewer, trying to close the gap as much as I can, get as close to Brie's location as possible. Distance, I know, is not our ally. The further away she is, the weaker the neural pathway between us will be.

  I take a breath, sucking in the fume, and shut my eyes. I feel the immediate urge to cough, spluttering as the dust fills my lungs. I lose focus, and open my eyes back up, already watering as they blink away the swarming grit. My coughing doesn't relent. Another few spluttered breaths have me shaking my head, and rushing back down the tunnel and into the clearer air where Ares stands.

  He's sees me coming with a frown, as I stop and purge my lungs, clearing them out with several long breaths. "I can't breathe down there, Ares," I pant. "I can't concentrate at all."

  "It's...only a few dozen metres," Ares says, thinking. "Perhaps try it from here? Surely you're close enough already?"

  I nod, thinking the same. If Brie is up on the hill, then a few dozen metres shouldn't make a difference.

  I try again, stepping toward the dank wall of the sewer, resting my back against it as I shut my eyes, and seek out Zander's voice, his presence.

  It remains a surreal experience, as I call into the darkness, hoping Zander will call back. He exists, now, in a space I still cannot truly understand, a part of him living within the spectral realm, capable of travelling into Brie's mind, communicating with his twin sister from beyond the grave. And now, down the neural pathway that they managed to forge into my own mind, he, maybe both of them, can speak with me too...

  I try not to dwell on the mechanics of it all. For many months now, Brie has had Zander's voice in her head, communicating with her corporeally deceased brother, guided by his strength and wisdom as he helped her develop new powers. Now, when I am close enough to Brie, Zander can communicate with me too. And, now that Brie's powers are no longer being suppressed, maybe she can as well.

  Maybe, I think, maybe I might be able to convince her to turn back? Maybe I can help set her free?

  The thought is, perhaps, a foolish one. If Zander hasn't been able to do so, then what exactly can I do? It may be, of course, that his presence has also been corrupted, turned by the Overseer and the Prime to do their bidding, as Brie has been. But...I don't think that's the case. When I came here before, he suggested that he wasn't influenced by the Prime like Brie was. That he remained independent of their controls.

  I truly hope that remains the case.

  I draw a breath of clean air, and turn back into the dark spaces of my mind. I call, into the gloom, Zander, Zander can you hear me? Zander, are you there?

  I wait, concentrating hard, refusing to let the lingering fog and sound of rushing sewer water dislodge my focus. I work hard to perceive Zander's face, imagine his form striding toward me from the shadows. I draw up memories of his voice, hoping it will improve the connection, the bond, help him communicate with me from afar.

  Nothing.

  I hear nothing back.

  I try a little harder, and work for a little longer, but still feel nothing of his presence. I do so until I know he isn't there, opening my eyes to find Ares looking at me intently.

  "Nothing?" he asks me, reading my disappointment.

  I shake my head. "Nothing."

  We turn to the end of the sewer again, to the thick mists hanging in the air. "Those metres may count after all," Ares says. "Come, I have an idea."

  He leads me to the end, and asks me to stand there as close to the bars as I can. The fog is as thick as ever, quickly working to clog my throat, make the simple, universal process of breathing that much more difficult.

  "I will help clear the air, Kira," Ares coughs. "Do not let me distract you. Shut your eyes, and try again."

  With that, his powerful body begins to hum and shiver violently, as though attempting to intimidate the very air itself. Suddenly, he bursts away, moving quickly down the tunnel at an astonishing pace. The stunning speed of his movement causes an almost explosive reaction, the fog parting where he runs, pressed away to the sides. A second later, he comes flooding back toward me, my eyes only just picking him up as his colossal figure rushes in, stopping only a metre or so ahead of me, the fog once more blown away.

  He halts there, for just a second, and takes a breath of clear air. "It works," he says. "See to your task. I will keep the air clear for you, Kira."

  He moves off again, rushing back and forward, back and forward, the fog pressed further away from us as he does so. It creates a pocket of clear air within the sewer, a pocket in which I must work.

  I don't delay. Shutting my eyes once more, I call out to Zander again, hoping beyond all reasonable expectation that those few dozen metres might make all the difference.

  Zander, I bellow into my mind, seeking the pathway into Brie's. Zander, are you there?! Zander, can you hear me?!

  My words come more desperate, though the hope quickly fades. I try, and try, and try again, but nothing. When I open my eyes, defeated, I merely shake my head at Ares as he completes another circuit, rushing toward me, stopping in his tracks.

  "I can't hear anything, Ares," I explain dourly. "It's no use."

  My words are shallow and despondent. I'd been counting on this, counting on it to make the difference. But it seems that, too, has failed.

  "Brie must be further away, then," says Ares. "Perhaps she isn't on the hill, but to the north of the city instead, making the connection too weak to establish?"

  I nod, thinking it a possibility. But another darker one comes to mind. "Maybe Zander's presence in her has been dismissed," I say. "We don't know what the Overseer is truly capable of, or Minerva and the other Heralds of Awakening. Maybe they can lock Zander in her mind forever? Maybe they've even turned him to their side too?"

  I shake my head again. Or even killed him, I think to myself, though choose not to utter it. Maybe what once remained of Zander is now gone forever too...

  "Any of the above may be possible," Ares concludes sagely. "All we can do is hope that it is the former, and Brie is merely too distant right now to forge this connection. It might be worth venturing to the north side of the city, see if we can discover a set of sewers there as well. We may have better luck?"

  I find myself only partially interested in the idea. It seems a long shot right now, one that is unlikely to bear fruit. As far as I'm concerned, the connection was quite strong when Brie was upon the hill, at the heart of the city. I got the feeling that, even if she were right at its northern border, I'd still be able to detect something from here. A whisper, a word, just a flutter of a voice in the darkness.

  But...there was nothing. Nothing at all. And that makes me think that, more likely, my other suggestions are correct. That one way or another, Zander's influence on Brie has been severed, and that he will not be able to help us, as I thought he might.

  "So?" Ares asks. "What do you think?"

  I let out a sigh, and try not to fall back into negativity. "It...might be worth it, I guess," I say. "Has anyone spotted any sewers that way? I don't think General Decimus will want you spending your day hunting for drains."

  "Hmmmm, you're probably right, Kira," he rumbles. "It may well be that the sewers drain to the south only." He seems to realise that, perhaps, it's not such a good idea after all. "How about we wait for word from our people, see if they spot anything? In the meantime, we can return here again soon, if you wish. We may have better luck on another occasion."

  I agree to it, trying to remain hopeful that, next time - if there is a next time - things will be different.

  We return down the tunnel at that, our mission a failure, and climb back out of the stinking sewers into the late morning light. The bombardment continues, setting a continual chorus of bo
oms and explosions to the air. That, too, appears to be a futile exercise. There really isn't much going our way.

  I swallow the pessimism again, and turn the other way, as we begin making our way back to the main camp.

  Next time, I tell myself, clinging to hope. Next time will be different.

  181

  AMBER

  "All right," I say. "Just...step over the edge. Slow yourself down as you land, so you do so softly. We'll master that first, and then go from there."

  Elian raises a slightly indignant eye at me, as we stand at the edge of the relatively shallow canyon, not too far from the southern base. Beyond it, miles to the north, the city remains under bombardment. It's been going on continually for a full day now. My ears are starting to get used to the unremitting din, just the same as they did when we besieged New Haven some weeks ago.

  "So, just slow down?" Elian says, his figure wrapped in his Fire-Blood armour, a little different from the armour I received when I became a Herald of War. Different, but no less potent. The armour works to collect and control our powers, and provide additional protection from bullets and blades at the same time. "I thought you were going to teach me to fly?"

  "I am," I say, glancing over the edge. It's about a fifteen metre drop to the bottom, this particular chasm not one of the deeper scars upon the plains. "But this is the place to start. It's how I did."

  "Right," Elian nods. "But, I already know how to do this. We did it back outside New Haven, remember? I know how to slow my fall when dropping from a height, Amber."

  "Well then show me." I smile at him, though can certainly sense that he's not entirely enjoying the turnaround. Only months ago, he was teaching me. I suppose he feels a little....emasculated, having our roles so expeditiously reversed. If so, he can get over it. "If you want to fly," I finish. "This is how it starts."

  He sighs, shrugging his consent, and then steps right toward the edge. His body flares with a bit of flame, and he takes the leap, hopping forward just a metre or so, and quickly plummeting feet-first to the ground. I see his fires flare more brightly as he approaches the rock floor, pulsing to slow him into a controlled landing.