Children of the Prime Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  "I..." he begins, keen eyes scanning. "Security seems to have been bolstered. It wasn't like this the last time I was here."

  "And when was that?" I ask.

  "Several months ago. They must have had some trouble with people passing through without the proper permissions. I imagine Ceres has forced them to tighten things up."

  "Ceres," I grumble. "I hate that worm. So, what do we do now?"

  I notice Jude's eyes skipping off over my shoulder as I ask the question, and follow his gaze. Emerging from a couple of streets, I see groups of cloaked men and women appear. They scan the square before dispersing into smaller groups, searching.

  "Great. Just great," I whisper. "What the hell do we do?"

  Jude sways his eyes left and right, analysing our options, before apparently coming to a rather hasty decision as one of the search parties begins marching quickly our way, noting the presence of two suspicious looking characters standing in quiet conversation at the southern edge of the square. I feel a stab of anxiety shoot through me as I see the group of Devotees make a beeline for our position.

  "Do you know how to throw a punch?" Jude asks me, delivering the question calmly despite its content.

  "Do I...what?"

  "We're heading straight for the checkpoint," Jude says, decision made. "I see four officials there, either side of the gate. I'm thinking I can handle two or three. That leaves one for you. Aim right for the nose. And if you get a chance, kick him down there." He nods to his groin, winking as he does so. And before I have a chance to ask any of the many questions running through my mind, he grabs my arm and begins hauling me off.

  The next minute or so passes by in a blur, our sudden movement drawing our pursuers back into the hunt. Evidently, moving with that perfect, upright posture can be abandoned in certain circumstances, such as hunting down heretics.

  The groups of Devotees spring to action, chasing after us as we pace right across the collection square. Even those in prayer interrupt their rituals to follow our movement, glaring at us angrily as we splash right past them, running right up towards the checkpoint that, by the looks of things, acts as a gateway to both those permitted to pass through onto the plains, and the carriages of Ceres when he comes to gather the town's tributes.

  Jude, being so much quicker than I am, is forced to half drag me along as we go, the four officials manning the checkpoint immediately noting our frenzied approach. I'm relieved to see that Jude was right in his earlier assertion, the officials nothing but local residents and not soldiers, armed with nothing but their fists. I suspect that even those are rarely, if ever, used, crime around these parts pretty much non-existent.

  In fact, I imagine that their presence at the border of Black Ridge is primarily a sort of ceremonial thing, part of the religious custom here. I can't imagine that many people actually try to get onto the Sacred Plains unless officially permitted to do so. Perhaps the occasional overzealous, fanatical Devotee might in a crazed bid to prove their piety, but that's about it.

  We take advantage of all of that as we hurtle towards the checkpoint, the four officials standing either side of a low gate set within a wall that surrounds the entire square. Unlike Pine Lake, which has numerous exit points towards the pinewoods and valleys that surround it, Black Ridge appears to have only this single exit, a bottleneck leading to the northern plains.

  "Remember," Jude calls to me as we go, his voice carrying over the rain and heavy panting of my breath, "aim for the nose and kick for the groin. Go for the shortest guy on the far right."

  I turn back up as we surge on, locking my gaze on my target, scanning him up and down. He doesn't look like much, though remains a good few inches taller than I am. It seems likely that a sudden punch to the nose, however, will catch him off guard. Especially from a girl like me. That will surely be unexpected.

  I draw a sharp breath as we approach, wondering just how Jude's intending on getting us past the gate. It's not high, but will take some getting over. I put that to the back of my mind and focus on my first job, my fist closing into a ball, my right arm priming for action.

  The doubts have little time to come, and that's a good thing. I've never, ever punched another human being, so the thought of actually throwing my fist into someone's face is more or less unheard of and, honestly, something I never thought I'd do. Violence isn't exactly common across the Fringe, at least not among the Devotees. Who would dare risk the wrath of the Prime by getting into such an altercation?

  Well, me it seems, I think to myself, my target coming up quick.

  I steel myself for the impact as Jude surges a little ahead of me, drawing the mens' attention. All four of them take defensive postures, looking quite unnatural in the stance, as Jude charges right into the nearest one, hurling a lightning fast fist in the man's direction.

  It connects with a crunch so loud I can hear it over the raucous din, the official dropping like a lead balloon to the floor. Immediately, I hear screams and shrieks of surprise behind us, the local townspeople dispersed around the square shocked by the sudden attack in a place so quiet and almost unsettlingly peaceful.

  I don't, however, have time to turn to look at them. As Jude engages the other men, picking one out in particular and bundling him to the ground, I take my opportunity to carry out my assigned role, to further make up for my earlier transgressions. Coming up towards the side of the smallest man, whose attention remains on Jude, I squeeze my fist and prepare to let fly.

  With my spare hand, I push at the man, shoving him in the shoulder and drawing his eye. As soon as he turns, I act without thinking. My fist fires off like a canon, my aim surprisingly true, wrist unexpectedly firm. My knuckles hit their mark, crunching into the man's nose, which all but explodes on impact, blood spraying out in all directions and splattering into my face.

  The poor guy stumbles back in shock, groaning and reaching for his face. The crimson tide flows through his fingers, seeping down his face and chin, dripping off into the sodden earth as he whimpers in pain.

  Despite the fact that I feel rather sorry for the guy, I'm so in the zone that I follow through with Jude's second piece of advice on instinct. My right leg, fully in motion as I continue towards the man, pulls back and swings hard. Again, my aim is surprisingly accurate, my heavy boot connecting with the man's groin, and probably rendering him unable to bear children.

  I pull back quickly as my foot makes impact, realising that the second attack wasn't necessary. To my left, Jude has dispatched the two other men, a group of three now piled in a groaning mess on the floor, moaning and clutching at various parts of their bodies. His eyes, lit bright in the gloomy afternoon light, turn to take in the mob now re-gathering to take us down.

  "OK, come here," he calls, grabbing me yet again, pulling me right towards the gate. He doesn't take time to try to work out how to operate it. Instead, he grabs my waist and, with a powerful surge, launches me up towards the top of the wooden barrier.

  I take a grip of the top and, with fingers almost slipping in the wet, manage to haul myself over to the other side. Just as I drop down, I see Jude step back, run at the gate, and launch himself up to the top to join me.

  I hit the ground as Jude hurdles the summit, falling right down beside me. Behind the gate, voices begin to rise, a dozen disgruntled Devotees trying to open the thing up or clamber over. I suspect that they won't pursue us much further than this, the lands to the north too sacred for them to travel.

  Thankfully, Jude and I have no such reservations.

  We leave them quickly behind, turning our eyes north out onto the Sacred Plains. Ahead, hidden beneath the thick grey clouds and falling sheets of rain, I see an undulating sea of craggy, barren earth stretching off into the distance.

  And into the wilderness we run.

  12

  My instincts turn out to be right.

  Within about five minutes of running, we finally slow our pace and come to a stop, turning back to look upon the town of Black Ridge in
the distance, its outer facade blurred amid the storm. My chest heaves as I regard it, scanning for any men in pursuit. There are none. We're free.

  For now.

  I look to Jude and note the slightly forlorn expression on his face. He didn't expect any of this. Neither did I, to be fair. Yet here we are, cut off from the world behind, not quite knowing what lies ahead.

  A deep sense of dread permeates me at that thought. Have I just led us to our deaths? I think.

  "I doubt they'll chase us further," Jude says, breaking the silence, distracting me from my apprehension. "It'll be too hard to find us in the storm, and few would be foolish enough to step on these plains anyway. This is no place for a hunt." He drops his voice, and turns to look northwards. "They think the Prime is watching us," he says quietly. "We're under his judgement now."

  I frown as he speaks, sensing that his faith hasn't been completely stamped out over the years.

  "You believe that?" I ask.

  He turns to look at me. "I honestly don't know what I believe, Amber," he says, eyes narrow. "The Prime may not be a deity, but he's clearly very powerful regardless. Does it really matter what the source of their power is? Maybe he really can see us from Olympus."

  "I find that doubtful," I say.

  "And yet you've seen people who can move things with their minds. You've heard a hundred stories from Alberta about what the Children of the Prime can do. Hell, Amber, you're one of them. You can't be hurt by fire, and might even be able to learn to manipulate it. Is it so hard to believe that the Prime is actually watching over us all? That he has an ability to see beyond the perceptions of a normal person?"

  I begin to nod slowly, willing to open my mind to the idea. Yes, I've heard about and witnessed a variety of staggering physical and mental feats, but being all-knowing and omniscient? I don't know, that might be a stretch too far.

  Maybe.

  "It's possible," I eventually admit. "But Jude, please don't say I'm one of them. I come from an old genetically enhanced bloodline, that's all. That's all any of them are, really."

  "Either way, they're special. You're special, Amber. So they masquerade as gods. What is a god anyway if not someone with unique powers?"

  "I..." A frown drops over my eyes. "I guess...I guess I've never thought about it like that," I say. I shake my head, sighing deeply as the rain batters against my hood. "Anyway, it's not about that. It's about abusing that power and forcing others to worship and serve them. That's what this is all about. That's what I hate about all this."

  Jude nods, though doesn't respond. He turns his gaze around once more. "We should try to find some cover until this rain subsides," he says. "There might be somewhere we can stop further up the ridge."

  "Right," I say.

  We continue on, our view ahead largely obscured by the falling rain and heavy mist that swirls upon the barren plains. The change in topography is quite stark, these lands so different to those I'm used to around Pine Lake. It's almost as if crossing the border in Black Ridge, so different itself to my home region, has led us into another world, stark and vast and unobscured by thickets of trees and grand mountains in the west, an endless tundra stretching off to eternity.

  As we head further northward, Jude leading us towards an area of rocky outcrops and narrow, shallow ridges cut into the earth, I wonder whether these lands are naturally occurring, or partially manufactured. Perhaps, I ponder, these plains have been intentionally sterilised, the grasses and vegetation killed off, the lands around Olympus made barren as a barrier against unwanted guests.

  Or maybe it's something else? Maybe it's a test for those found worthy. Perhaps all those invited to live behind the walls of Olympus are forced to make this march, to cover the two day trek across these parched lands, to find the great city across these wide-open plains.

  Is that what Lilly is having to do? I wonder. Has she been taken to the city in luxury, sitting comfortably in one of Ceres's carriages, or been forced to endure this march across the desert, stripped of food and water as a final test to ensure she truly belongs among them?

  I don't know why that thought comes to mind. Perhaps a recollection of an old story grandma told me, reciting one of the ancient religions that used to be prevalent across the continent and wider world. Could it be that the Prime has been inspired by myth and legend, of some of the deities worshipped across various cultures for thousands of years? Certainly, his city was named in honour of the old Greek gods and their mountain home up in the clouds. Maybe his other customs have been similarly inspired.

  We speak little as we go on, my subconscious mind keeping me busy with such thoughts and speculations, as if keen to distract me from the reality of what we're doing. Within about twenty minutes, we're coming upon a field of cracked earth, rocky outcrops rising from the ground, shallow canyons and chasms scratched upon its surface as if gouged out by the claws of some enormous beast.

  We peek over the edge and see that the rainwater has accumulated in some, creating small streams that rush along at the bottom. A little searching eventually yields somewhere suitable to stop, the storm still rumbling loudly and looking like it won't cease for a while.

  Jude, ever attentive, helps me climb down into a small canyon with a bridge of overhanging rock above. There, we find a small cave eroded into the chasm wall, just about large enough to fit the two of us and get us out of the rain.

  We slip inside and hunker down on the cold stone floor, side by side, looking out. I feel Jude's arm, strong and protective, work around my back, his gentle touch so comforting. I turn to look up into his eyes, still hooded and cloaked, the look of a man who's doubting his path, questioning his actions.

  I consider apologising again for drawing him into this mess, but know the reaction I'll get. He'll tell me he wants to be here, that he'd never have let me go alone. He'll joke that I'm fishing for reassurance, and lift that lopsided grin, hug me a little tighter.

  I want all of that; the embrace, the reassurance. But I know that I don't deserve it right now. Instead, I simply turn my lips to his cheek and press against his stubble, before drawing back and setting my head to his chest. I hope it's enough to show him just how much he means to me. Just how much I need him.

  We sit for a little while, the rains still falling, the thunder seeming to grumble even louder here north of Black Ridge. I wonder whether storms are common here, as if someone in Olympus, one of the Children of the Prime, can manipulate the weather somehow, keep the city hidden in mist and mystery.

  I put the question to Jude, trying to learn more about these lands. Honestly, I never knew he'd ventured this far. I never knew, in fact, that his knowledge of these lands in the north-western Fringe was so extensive.

  There's more of his parents in him than I realised, I think. He has that yearning to travel, to trade, to explore, just like they did.

  So I ask him about the weather, and see that pensive frown fall over his eyes.

  "It does seem to be more inclement around here," he says, nodding, peering out of the cave and into the heavy mist. "I haven't ventured far from Black Ridge, only going to a couple of outposts nearby, but yeah, I've never really seen it crisp and clear. It's always misty at least, and often raining."

  "You think that's just coincidence?" I ask.

  "I guess," he says. "I haven't really been around here enough to make a judgement. What does Alberta say about it?"

  I shrug, riffling through the enormous number of things my grandma has told me in the past. Some of it, to be perfectly honest, I never took quite as seriously as I'm doing now. As a kid, a lot of what she said came off as fanciful stories and fables, the very sort a loving grandmother would tell a child to entertain them, rather than anything I took as gospel.

  And, well, she was always a little more closeted when speaking about Olympus itself, and the surrounding areas. Over in Pine Lake, the general theme in life is to keep yourself to yourself, the various towns and larger settlements across the Fringe mostly separated
and insular. Only traders and merchants and those tasked with spreading the good word would travel often, and there isn't much of an appetite for rumour and gossip where I come from, unless specifically related to 'official' word from Olympus and those who reside there.

  We are, essentially, a people who don't ask questions, don't challenge the status quo, don't band together and collectively grumble about the lives we lead. Everyone knows their place and they keep to it. Those who fall out of line are dealt with if discovered, branded Defiant or, depending on the severity of the crime, something even worse.

  "Well?" Jude presses, nudging me in the arm.

  "Er, not much," I say. "I don't think grandma's ever mentioned anything about strange weather beyond Olympus. She doesn't actually like to talk about the city much. I think something bad happened to her there."

  Jude widens his eyes and performs a half-turn to face me, his back scraping the wall of the small cave. "She's been there?" he asks, surprised by the revelation. "I never knew that."

  "Nor did I," I say. "And I think it's more than that. I think she actually lived there once. I think she's one of them, Jude."

  The news leads to a gawping expression, Jude's mouth opening a little and hanging there in some sort of suspended animation. He slowly begins to shake his head, and then, gradually, it turns into a nod.

  "It makes...so much sense," he whispers. "No wonder she knows so much. No wonder she hates them so much." He fixes me with his chestnut gaze. "What happened to her?" he whispers.

  "I don't know," I return, voice equally soft. "She told me she was like me, that she has fire in the blood like I do. After you went after Lilly, she revealed it all. I asked her about Olympus, but she didn't elaborate. She just said it's a place of wonders and horrors, brutal and beautiful in equal measure."

  "Well, that sounds inviting," Jude says. He shakes his head again. "I can't believe she's one of them. I...I still can't believe you are too."