A Viral Imperium: The Plagueborn Series Book 1

by Darren Joy

  Something inside of him snapped. These people were protecting him because he was the one they’d long sought, and he cowered behind them like a frightened child. He couldn’t allow it. They would die for him, and he wasn’t worth it.

  He trembled as he felt shadowy tendrils oozing from his pores. He tried to control what he did. It took all his will to not allow his power seize control. The process was arduous and exhilarating. To feel such power coursing through him was beyond description, now that he could wield it. His body darkened as a web of black veins bulged beneath his skin. A dark aura billowed around him like a fluttering cape. He laughed.

  He glanced at the reflective surfaces of the swinging blades, taking them all in, in a breather’s heartbeat. This time, instead of a vision, he saw the giants at the edge of the forest above.

  Without thinking about what he did, he sent shafts of viralic power into the gleaming swords. Shockwaves rippled through the earth and rock beneath the approaching Nephilim. He was gratified to hear surprised grunts and guttural cries. Screeches rose as fountains of earth shot skyward obliterating many of the spiders. Threadfin sent further shockwaves towards the remaining slinkts, all through the reflections within the sword blades.

  He staggered back to find himself alone. The earth around him had blackened, the remaining grass wilted. Then he saw the Aidari scattered about. A lone Scatter’s hair had turned full white and she lay unmoving, the other Scatters incinerated. What he saw of Zane’s face was a mask of blood, her body still. Lorn’s was covered in weeping sores, and as she got to her feet, she gave him the darkest glare, filled with anger, or perhaps hate. No smiles for him now.

  He spotted Wither and Raze too. Both looked dead, their forms shrunken in on themselves, their hair white as snow, skin blistered and oozing. Podral lay further off, his body inert. There was no sign of Slither. Closest, lay what remained of River, her skin blackened, her body shrivelled.

  What have I done? He stumbled about, lost, and confused. He had no idea what he should do. How could I have done this?

  ‘Get away from here, deader,’ Lorn hissed at him.

  A rumbling sound and enraged growls suggested the giants were not all done for. They were still coming.

  Threadfin turned, and fled.

  Chapter 24

  Trouble Down River

  WHEN AIYANA AWOKE, her head felt stuffy, with a thunderous sound in her ears. Stones ground into her hips, and her body felt frozen.

  She lay on her back smelling mud. Her eyes teared up as she squinted through a gap in the bushes. The sky was light blue, though rain clouds smudged the edges. Turning her head, she saw water foaming and spitting.

  Shivering, she attempted to rise but keeled over, no feeling in her limbs. She tucked her hands into her armpits and rocked. The worker’s clothes and tattered cloak were sodden. After regaining some feeling, she stood and scanned her surroundings.

  There was a broad boat, abandoned, tilted to the left on its keel. The stern sat inches from the water. Had she been in that boat? Her mind felt sluggish. Sand dunes rose behind her, some twelve feet in height, covered in patches of brown stringy grass, and the odd tall cottonwood.

  She stumbled towards the boat and peered inside. It was of dubious quality, the overlapping strakes rotten and cracked, with various bits of fabric clogging holes. Several bronze rivets were missing. Folded blankets and coarse bags littered the bottom between the curved ribs. There were three oars. There should’ve been four.

  It all came back to her.

  She recognised the boat as a batav or riverboat for transporting light goods. It had been waiting for them a mile south of the river’s headwaters at Willow Lake. The Noy was notorious. In places, traders offloaded goods and transported them by land to another point on the river. It was, however, the quickest route south while remaining unseen. The road to Lame, which lay on its western bank, was a more dangerous option. Where were Cathya and Turol?

  One sack began twitching and kicking.

  As she fiddled with the rough copper wire, she realised she could now return to Icarthya. She hoped her Darken was okay, but she needed to get back. A kecc emerged, emitting a whine. Leather straps binding its muzzle had loosened. Four legs and a tail followed a long face as it knocked her onto her back.

  A type of dog, kecci were closer to slinkts. Icarthian ancestors had crossbred dogs with the predator after innumerable attempts to domesticate slinkts failed.

  She wrestled with it. ‘Shush, shush. I’m not going to hurt you.’ What sort of imbecile put an animal in a sack? Then she remembered having that argument with Turol, before he’d also stuffed her into one. She’d argued that too, kicked and spat, but her Darken had made the decision in the end, to let her out. Since when did she decide everything? Probably around the same time she decided to kidnap me, she thought wryly. Oh, Cath.

  The creature’s straps were wet and frayed. She kept a tight grip on its muzzle, to prevent it reaching full pitch. The creature calmed as she petted it. She’d owned one once, but it had kept getting sick. Two months later, her father had forced her to get rid of it. Presently, as she relaxed her grip, it leapt away and ran off.

  Both kecci and slinkts could whine to a pitch that damaged hearing. Food was a good reason to have one, but that didn’t excuse its treatment. Their whines knocked small creatures unconscious, but all kecc owners kept small wads of wax to plug their ears.

  She spotted wads in the bottom of the boat, along with a leash. Searching the other bags, she discovered meagre supplies of double-baked bread, dried fish, and a thick wedge of hard cheese.

  Leaning against the boat, squinting in the sunshine, she tore off a piece of fish and chewed. There was no sign of Cathya, the captain, or the smuggler who owned the boat. The current might have carried them downstream. That her Darken was alive was a given. Cathya was headstrong, disobedient, irritating to a fault with a warped logic, but indestructible.

  She remembered the thud of the batav scraping over rocks, four of them struggling with the oars. The boat had lurched and toppled. The world had gone dark.

  Patches of grass dotted dunes to the east. Beyond them rose an undulating grey line, which she thought were the Wunn Mountains.

  She’d just decided to start looking downriver, when the ground shook. She regained her feet, staring northward. An intermittent thumping resonated beneath her. The vibration bled into her bones. An earth tremor, she thought, but it didn’t feel right. Tremors didn’t produce such a rhythm.

  A lone figure broke the horizon, scrambling over the dunes. Aiyana shielded her eyes with one hand. As the figure descended into the shadow of the dunes, she saw it was a man. He wore a blue cloak. A scarf concealed the lower half of his face.

  ‘About time, you inconsiderate laggard,’ she snapped, hands on hips. ‘And don’t think I’ve gone and forgotten about—’

  ‘Get in the boat,’ Turol shouted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Okay then, don’t get in the boat.’ Reaching the batav, he shoved it into the water, grunting. It was no easy task with such a heavy vessel. Batavs were small but broad. He appeared desperate, and then she realised why. Licking dry lips, she turned to look upwards at the dunes.

  ‘You getting in, princess, or not?’

  A thunderous reverberation reached them, much closer now, its cadence equal to those earlier ones. Nephilim. I would’ve preferred an earth tremor. Oh, a grolg’s piss on it anyway, she would’ve settled for a full-blown quake.

  She sloshed into the water, clambered over the side, and landed in a heap at the bottom. Several stuffed leaks reopened.

  ‘Grab an oar.’ The captain glowered at her. He tugged on the scarf and spat over the side. ‘And plug those.’

  ‘Where’s Cath?’ She tried to stop the leaks, her hands numb from the cold water, and how dare he speak to her that way? Was everyone forgetting who she was? Well, perhaps the act of kidnapping her, not to mention lugging her over his shoulder, had obliterated a few barrier
s. All the same, her talk with Cathya was going to be unpleasant. For her.

  ‘I don’t know. I lost sight of her.’

  ‘We must find her.’

  There was a snapping boom. Shapes arced out over the dunes, towards them.

  ‘Get down!’

  The river exploded. The batav lurched violently. ‘We cannot leave without her.’ Another strike sent spumes of water across them, almost swamping the boat.

  ‘They’re not giving us a choice, now are they?’ Turol glanced back as he guided the boat into the rapids. He pulled at the mask and spat. ‘Grab that spare oar. Don’t sit there gawking at them. You’ll be no good to anyone dead.’

  Aiyana felt at a loss, but grabbed the other oar. The sun in her eyes, she struggled to see as silhouettes crested the dunes. The Nephilim held long poles. She’d read once that their spawn, imps as a vapidly minded historian once named them, trained for war as soon as they could walk. They started out with staff slings. Nephilim births were said to be rarer than human, but upon reaching adolescence, the children were blooded. Children, she thought, almost laughing. Those imps were as tall as most men, taller.

  She couldn’t make out details, but those poles would have ropes attached. Two of them stooped while the staff wielders waited. There was another snapping boom followed by another.

  The batav rocked as it rode the turgid waters. If one struck the boat, they were done.

  She then spotted another figure below the dunes, within the gloom. Flame haired and lithe, she raced towards the river, weaving in and out.

  Cath.

  It was clear now why most missiles had landed short, their boat not the main target. Aiyana struggled to see as the batav lurched again. A spear fell towards the fugitive. It missed by a foot. Another arced down, then another, each closing the gap to within inches. Arrows peppered the sand, missing by a hair. Cathya now varied her dodges left and right, but maintained her speed.

  ‘Turol, there,’ Aiyana yelled, pointing.

  He angled the boat towards shore. The Darken splashed out into the river as several more arrows fell towards her. She reached the boat, and they hauled her in. Two arrows thudded into the side of the batav, followed by several more eruptions of water.

  ‘Yana,’ said Cathya teary eyed, though it was hard to tell with water streaming down her face. ‘I’d feared you dead.’ She was fawning over her charge, checking her for injuries as though she’d not nearly died herself.

  ‘Damn it,’ yelled Turol, ‘use those oars. We’ve no time for girlish kisses. We’re not out of this yet.’

  As the river swept them out of danger, Aiyana glared at his back. The soldier’s attitude had deteriorated. He needed a lesson in proper decorum. Perhaps it was just their situation, but she wouldn’t tolerate it for much longer.

  She stared at the retreating dunes as their course veered into the dying day. The Noy ended in Lamedon, where it met the sea, but there were falls ahead and they would need to leave the river soon. She glanced at burgeoning grey clouds, the weather fast turning. Forest loomed on either bank, ancient trees stretching branches out over the water. Though more of a heavy mist, the odd fat drop escaped the latticed overhang. Aiyana flinched when one landed on her cheek.

  ‘We must turn back,’ she said. ‘We must return to Icarthya. If you refuse, I will jump back into the water right now.’

  ‘What, no,’ Cathya cried. ‘There’s no going back. Yana, I didn’t bring you out of there to just let you go back.’

  ‘Is it any safer out here in the wilderness, with giants trying to kill us?’

  ‘You can rest once we reach Lamedon. Then we will travel overland through a mountain pass. You’ll be safer beyond the borderlands. Listen to me; you’re tired, you’re not thinking straight.’

  ‘My thinking has never been clearer. The borderlands are just as dangerous. There’s no love there for the imperium. It won’t be much safer.’

  ‘No one will know who you are. We can hide you.’

  ‘She’s right, you know,’ said Turol from the bow of the boat. ‘We’re just trading one set of dangers for another.’

  ‘No one asked you,’ Cathya snapped. ‘Yana, I got you out of that city for a reason. Liviana wants the throne and she’ll murder you to secure it. Not to mention this army of Nephilim that will soon descend upon us. Didn’t you just see what happened? They’ve got scouts all over the place.’ The Darken’s short red hair was matted to her skull in dark clumps. Her eyes looked haunted. Cathya rubbed Aiyana’s arms to get warmth into her, but she remained cold.

  ‘Liviana already has the throne,’ said Aiyana. ‘If she wants me dead, she can send assassins to hunt me anytime. Running accomplishes nothing.’

  ‘I told you, we can hide you.’

  ‘To what ... what end?’ She felt odd, and a glance at the chagrined look on her Darken’s face said it all. ‘You, you did it again. I ... I don’t believe ... stupid ...’

  ‘A smaller dose. I can’t risk giving you too much too soon, but I also can’t risk you trying to escape. I’m sorry.’

  ‘When ...?’ It had to have been when they’d gotten Cathya into the boat. Spectrum above, she’d not waited a second. The woman was nothing if not dedicated. ‘You ... bitch.’

  ‘Guess I’ve earned that.’ Cathya watched the riverbank for any sign of their pursuers.

  Aiyana lay back, one arm gripping the rail. It was a smaller dose, the effects slower. She vowed she’d never hug the woman again. She wouldn’t. Slap her, maybe.

  ‘We will return one day, and you will take the throne back from that usurper, but we need time to organise.’

  ‘What time ... do you think we ... have?’

  ‘Why won’t you trust that I know what’s best?’ Cathya sat back, watching the captain guide them through the swift grey waters. ‘This is all much bigger than you realise, you know.’

  Now, what was that supposed to mean?

  Black ungainly cormorants perched on skeletal trees close to the river. At the water’s edge, among tall reeds, were crested grebes with their dagger-like beaks and dark head plumes. Loud guttural calls followed them downriver as Aiyana fell fast asleep.

  Chapter 25

  A Patch of Night

  THREADFIN RAN IN blind panic and shock. When he stopped at last, and stared back into the night, he caught a glimpse of them. The buggers weren’t giving up. He thought about letting them catch him. It was the least he deserved. He couldn’t fight back without a reflective surface of some sort. Besides, he felt weakened from earlier, and had no desire to repeat what had happened.

  A thunderous vibration pursued him. Tremors shot up through his feet, into his withered heart. For a moment, it felt as though it was beating. Odd sensation, that. Reaching a narrow valley, he increased speed, but after splashing through a shallow stream, he halted. He had reached the edge of more woodland. This terrain was unknown to him. He assumed the glow in the distance was the city of Byrsa. For all he knew, the whole forest was ablaze.

  The growls and grunts behind him neared. His decaying body protested. Even a viral had limits and running full pelt for seven hours took a toll. In some ways, his kind was stronger than breathers. In others, though, they were weaker. Healing from injuries or recovering from exhaustion was harder. Threadfin turned. Large silhouettes crashed through the undergrowth.

  It was too late.

  Returning to the water’s edge, careful to remain upwind of his pursuers, he crouched into a ball. He had no doubt the giants could see in darkness as well as he. They’d never faltered once, since the sun fell. Then again, perhaps they followed their noses. He needed to hide. Staring into the shallow water, its surface reflected enough moonlight for his eyes. Within that liquid swirl, he discerned the rippling shadows of trees, of night’s creatures who’d paused to drink.

  Reaching through the reflections, he gathered those shadows to him. The forest began to shrivel around him. He heard the groan of trees as he sapped their strength, and imagined the leave
s wrinkling to dust, branches snapping. He felt the slowing beat of a badger’s heart, and of a hapless slinkt crossing the stream. An unnatural gloom concealed him. He learned in that moment to focus his talent, to reach out and choose. The effort weakened him more. He couldn’t risk focusing on the giants. He might draw their attention to him, and they were too many.

  The giants passed, iron boots stomping into cold earth and dead leaves, splashing through water. Trees shuddered. Dead branches and twigs spilled in their wake.

  He peered through the dying bramble at the water’s edge, feeling confident they wouldn’t spot or smell him. He didn’t want to see them either, but felt compelled to look.

  One giant let out a long, throaty roar. Another answered further off, then another. Flocks of rooks and jackdaws, those not overcome by his spell, abandoned their nests, the voices of giants drowning their cries.

  He crushed his body into the hollow, unable to take his gaze off them. None taller than nine or ten feet, their pale skin cracked and rippled in the moonlight. These wore little or no armour, perhaps for greater speed. Their faces appeared misshapen. A few possessed broad flightless wings that were expanses of colourless skin. They snapped branches as they lumbered past. Leaves, twigs, and flakes of bark showered him. His spell concealed him, but that was all.

  One passed close enough he could’ve reached out and touched it. The patchy bole of a twenty-foot yew was at his back.

  In the distance, he heard cries that sounded human. Whoever they were, they were on their own. The giants kept coming, twenty, forty, sixty, before he lost count, but at least a gulac in strength. Due to the self-imposed isolation of the giants, rumour became fact. As the Raddhon natives thundered by, he recalled the worst stories.

  Some folk said they reached thick arms through windows and doors stealing children. Others said they took slaves, were lazy and cruel. A few maintained they bred with their slaves to create hybrids, who in turn served them. Others suggested they were a misunderstood and ancient race, who’d become isolated due to the fear and hatred of humans. These latter were a scorned minority, but Threadfin knew what it meant to be isolated, feared, and hated. He felt sympathy for these gigantic beings, but not at the expense of his sister. He would destroy them, to save her.