A Viral Imperium: The Plagueborn Series Book 1

by Darren Joy

‘What are you talking about?’ An uneasiness settled upon her.

  He rubbed at his neck, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. ‘Well, maybe your Darken had a point.’ He ignored her glare, and it was her best. He’d always been good at doing that. ‘I came back to find you, but once I learned about Gog, I had to change my plans. I thought you far from here by now. Listen, I’m going to take you somewhere safe and then—’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ She stepped back from him, feeling hurt and betrayed all over again. ‘You are not my keeper, little brother. I was ever yours.’ She had not meant the vehemence in her voice to be that, well, vehement.

  ‘That’s unfair.’

  ‘The right to rule passed to me. I’m sorry it turned out the way it did, but it’s not yours, Fin, not anymore.’

  ‘Huh, like I said ...’ He paused, as though searching for a way to calm things. ‘Look, you cannot be thinking of going back to Icarthya. Others will deal with Avitus. I won’t allow you to put yourself in that sort of danger. And you can’t stay here either. Gog of Magog is due any day with his ginormous horde of giants, and it won’t be for a gold-rimmed cup of green tea and a bloody fig biscuit.’

  ‘You have no say over what I do,’ she answered in a quiet voice. Controlling her anger wasn’t easy. She was shaking. ‘I have fought against my own Darken to remain. I must do my duty.’

  ‘Breathers,’ he said in disgust, waving a thin arm. ‘What have they ever done for us? We are the last of our kind. They slaughtered us by the thousands, and they’d kill us both if they knew. We’re the undead, the bringers of plagues, spawn of the Grim. You know what they say.’

  ‘Not all of them are like that.’

  ‘I know that now, but many still are.’

  ‘I am their imperatrix, or at least, I will be. I owe it to them. People believe what they hear and don’t always know how to think for themselves. I can change that. I can teach them the truth. Most of them are decent, just ignorant. We can teach them.’ It seemed Threadfin’s hatred of breathers had softened, a little. It was a start.

  ‘To the pit of Grim with this altruistic rubbish. You owe them nothing.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she said in a sad voice, but maybe you will, one day. The only way she could truly care for them all, was if she sat upon the throne. It had to be her. She trusted no one else, not even Threadfin.

  ‘I ... I knew you were in danger, or that you soon would be.’ He sounded as though he was unsure what to tell her, as if she hadn’t known all along about the extent of his talent. ‘You’re the reason I came back. You must stay out of Icarthya, but you must leave Byrsa too. Liviana has set Gog on me, like a vicious warg, but I won’t let him have you too.’

  ‘I am leaving Byrsa,’ she answered in a tight voice, ‘to return to Icarthya, where I belong.’

  ‘What is it you think I’m trying to do here?’

  ‘You don’t think I know you mean well? My Darken meant well. Everyone means well, but no one wants to save the people.’

  ‘Maybe, they’re not meant to be saved.’

  Aiyana’s hand stung, and it took a moment to realise she’d slapped him. She fought the urge to apologise. She loved him, but she could only tolerate so much. Desool had started awake and was grumbling in his tongue.

  Rubbing his cheek, her brother turned his head as though checking it still worked. She hadn’t hit him that hard. ‘Okay, I deserve that,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘I didn’t mean it as it sounded.’

  ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘No, really, I didn’t. You’re right. We need to do something. I guess this means you won’t listen to reason.’ He muttered something else she couldn’t hear, and then uttered a long dramatic sigh. ‘I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.’

  ‘Nothing and no one is forever.’

  ‘I’m not going to let you die, even if you hate me for it. I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep you alive.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice, little brother.’ If only he knew. She tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but it was hard. ‘I will reclaim the throne. The people need order, stability. They need me. Liviana has something in her possession and I mean to get it back, and to crack her skull while I’m at it. That is my job and mine alone. You will stay out of it. It seems you’ve enough to be getting on with.’ That he would face a danger she couldn’t imagine, soured her stomach, but she stowed the feeling away. They both had their duty.

  ‘The Shathra Stone; you’ve been trying to find out what she has since she returned.’

  Her efforts had resulted in three of her spies going missing, not to mention their father’s death. Liviana would answer for her crimes, but securing the Stone was paramount. Whatever its power, she knew she couldn’t allow Liviana to possess it. She thought she knew what it was, what it could do. The few texts on it she’d dug up were vague at best. ‘This Nephilim child of yours, you got any more like him?’ Half a dozen would be a help. She realised she would use Desool after all. Too much was at stake, not to.

  ‘Huh, and I thought he was yours. I ... ah, ran into trouble, and he just happened by as though he’d known. I think he may be working for the Aidari. I sort of ran into them too. You know, they’re not what we thought. They’ve a fool notion I’m supposed to save the world or something. Interesting bunch, for breathers, I mean.’ He muttered again, and then added, ‘Did you know I’m the prophesised one?’ He laughed, but there was no humour in it.

  She turned her back on him. ‘I think you should leave. It was good seeing you, but you should go. I need to get going. I’ll get a ship, most likely.’

  ‘I spotted two quinqueremes and four triremes in port. Some smaller boats, but they were all setting sail. The Spectrum above knows there are enough people who want out of this city. Just don’t travel as you. Liviana may have exemplars here too. Just flash some gold. You got coin, right?’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you for understanding, well, I guess—’

  ‘Your Darken was right,’ said Threadfin. ‘You should’ve listened to her. Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think I’m about to face a bloody Nephilim horde? Just to have you return to Liviana’s clutches?’

  She whirled and advanced on him, giving him a hard poke in the ribs, then another, driving him back. ‘No more of that tripe, do you hear? No more. You have your destiny and even I understand that, if not why.’ Fear gripped her when she thought of it. She didn’t want to lose him either.

  ‘You can’t defeat her alone. Besides, I never believed in destiny. I do believe in you.’ He said that last in a whisper.

  She stopped poking him, realising it wasn’t doing any good. He always managed to turn her anger. Just like Cathya, he sought to save her with all the best intentions. ‘You mean more to me than I can explain, Fin, but we’re all grown up. We’ve changed. You have a destiny to meet whether you like it or not. Just, let me meet mine on my own terms. Give me that much respect.’

  ‘I think—’

  Both of them jumped at a loud thumping at the wooden door.

  Chapter 34

  A March To War

  ON A ROCKY PLATEAU east of Byrsa, the forested foothills below ending quarter of a mile from the city, Liviana Avitus waited. She had felt reluctant to leave the thick grey-blue basalt walls of the Blue Palace. Her fingers plucked at her cloak, eyes darting. The Wunn Mountains behind her were all that separated Byrsa from the capital. Marshes festered to the north, divided by four rivers. Discovering the power of the Shathra Stone took time, but she could now traverse great distances in hours. A pity it was not seconds, but wishes were for fools.

  She felt weak. A fragment of her form materialised as she regained control. The Stone was a dangerous artefact. Using it meant imprisoning a portion of her soul within. Her angelic magic was almost useless in this world, available only through the Stone that imprisoned her. It was the price for such power.

  It took all her strength, both of soul and body, to fight the Stone an
d her angelic soul. It sought to overpower her, to rid her of consciousness. Andromeda had been born to this body, a method guaranteeing a flawless fusion of spirit and flesh. It had not worked.

  Now that the Stone also had a piece of her, she wondered if she would ever be complete again. It sensed her, knew her for what she was, for the Stone was the Spectrum. It would devour her if she allowed it. They knew that and she had little doubt they didn’t care. It was her punishment for reaching too high. She was the First, even before those damnable Titans. Tartaros had given her the position, and Liviana knew the Darkness could take it back.

  Did she not order Canaan to personally see to Threadfin Todralan’s capture? Pen Luthus had put everything in jeopardy. He dared think himself her equal? She’d sent a thrael, one he trusted, to get close enough to him. He had not returned.

  She held it in her hands, swirling between her palms like a ball of blue lightning. Nephilim surrounded her, most at nine or ten feet in height, but they couldn’t see her in the dim light, her form a murky shape. The Stone was visible only to her. So much power and she used but a hair’s breadth of it.

  She studied Gog’s force, not ready to reveal herself. The giants operated and tended war machines, which towered seventy feet in height. Those massive mangonels flung rocks the size of small houses, and there were six, evenly spaced on the high plateau. There was a traction trebuchet too, halfway through construction. It would not be long before the main attack. The imperium had little knowledge of such machines, though the Atlantians had stolen several designs. For years, the Todralans had watched Raddhon and its secrets with envious eyes.

  She watched a shorter pale imp in leather armour. It lowered a rope with a hook at its end. This it tied to another rope connected to an intricate gear system. A muscular but gangly Avim in leather armour with blond hair braided to the waist, hefted a rough ball of gravel and tar into a sling. Another sapper bearing a torch lit the ball aflame.

  They released the main rod. At the same instant, six Rephaim, naked but for a hide of loincloth banded with skulls, pulled on ropes attached to a counter weight. Wings flexing and muscles rippling, the giants exerted a terrible force and hefted the flaming rock high and far. The fire pots used by the Nephilim artillery were effective if inaccurate, but they’d breached the walls in several places.

  The Stone oozed instruction, thoughts appearing as her own. Gog was aware of her now, her summons weighing upon him. Her hands trembled as the sphere spun.

  More mangonels loosed. Around her, the Nephilim stretched the length of the plateau; Emim with their leashed beasts, long limbed Avim or winged Rephaim lounging or polishing armour. A gulac in size, meaning a force of eight hundred remained. Not that they mattered. She would instruct him to unleash his full rage upon the city.

  Many giants wore blackened steel plate, cuirasses, pauldrons and spiked helms, others wearing spiked greaves and vambraces. This armour was far superior to anything Icarthian blacksmiths could produce. Most wielded the heavy grond, a spiked war hammer. Others carried the harog, a dual weapon consisting of a broad crescent blade at one end, a rounded blunt or spiked weight at the other. A skilled warrior could spin the harog effortlessly on its central axis, obliterating all in its path. A good number also wielded the curved scarap, a broad blade with four sharp points. It was a cross between a wide sword and axe.

  Their technological abilities far exceeded those of humans, save for the Atlantians who now dwelt beneath the waves. Humans, who depended on courage and weak metals, who were like children with sticks, and stones; compared to Gog, they were wailing infants.

  The Nephilim commander arrived with the rest of his army. The future king rubbed a red tongue across his canines, black snout sniffing the air. At almost twelve feet, he was abnormal for a Nephilim. Covered in steel armour, he was a nightmare. Once she unleashed her angelic power through him, he would be death itself. The Grim could never be as menacing.

  Good and evil didn’t exist, she knew, just survival. Goodness was an illusion, a fiction her angelic brethren espoused without end. They could not see how simple it all was.

  She stretched her neck as she looked at Gog, commander of ten of his father’s gulacs. A portion of her soul, which wasn’t conscious, resided within that beast. He fought her control, but it was as an infant’s tantrum. She allowed his mind to remain, not desiring to experience life as a Nephilim. Human life was depressing enough.

  His voice rumbled as he gave orders in a guttural tongue. The sound was a crushing symphony that would be a death knell to the defenders in Byrsa. Wargs appeared among the rocks above, held back by handlers. The odd beast looked towards her, whining. They knew what she was. The large predators were alike to pups beside their masters, but their jagged teeth were more than a match for bronze or iron.

  Zil flies buzzed about giant and warg, a few daring to lay their eggs in Nephilim hide, though none touched their commander.

  He spotted her, of course, and gave her a long level look, as her physical body reasserted itself. The Nephilim leader growled and stomped towards her. Each of his steps was a vibration in her bones.

  She had only recently taken possession of him, having laid the seeds earlier. She controlled his words and actions, but he remained aware. It was a far more aggressive and unpredictable method than being born to flesh. A short-term measure.

  Gog awaited the Shathra Stone. She let it go, and it sped to him. It hovered above his upward palms, spinning in a violent display of colour and light. Fine spidery tentacles shot from the Stone. They latched onto the skulls of the other giants. Gog went to one knee as the Stone’s power filled him, perhaps overwhelming him. She knew that feeling, could still sense it, for part of her soul resided within it. It would weaken him, but the power he gained through the Stone was worth it. Such power could raze the world. It might destroy him in the process. A pity, but it was what he was for, to serve as a weapon, and a buffer.

  ‘You serve me,’ she said, her voice echoing across the plateau. ‘Know me, all of you. My name is, Andromeda. I do not forgive failure.’ She winced at the use of her true name, for in the mortal tongue, it sounded harsh. The distinction between Liviana and Andromeda should not have been necessary. She felt her mortal self, slipping away.

  ‘You will ravage the human city, and you will capture the mage,’ she continued, Andromeda taking control once more. Gog remained on one knee, tendrils of power expanding in a web of fiery filaments. ‘That or you will drive him into my grasp. Do not fail, or I will make you all scream for a thousand years.’

  The Nephilim leader rose to his feet, the Stone in his hands. She felt its power through him, and smiled.

  Raising his black muscled arm high with clenched fist, Gog dropped it sharply. Then, he bellowed, the vibrations of his voice trembling through the earth and into her bones. It was as nothing compared to the answering roars that followed.

  Andromeda had never felt more alive in human flesh, watching her giants march to war.

  In the darkness, Liviana wept.

  Chapter 35

  Impossibilities

  DESOOL UNBARRED THE door, hefting the crossbar free. Aiyana held the dagger he had given her in a tight grip. The first to enter was a dark skinned woman with white hair. To Aiyana’s relief and annoyance, on the stranger’s heels was her Darken. She put the dagger aside on a battered wooden stool. Her anger hadn’t cooled enough after her argument with Threadfin.

  Behind the women came Podral Pole, a man she had sent to watch over Threadfin. She intended to have words with him. Next came Davard Tystrus, a fat conclavist who sweated no matter the season. His presence should’ve been odd, but not to her. It solved the mystery of Desool’s master.

  Pole walked straight to her brother, and whispered something. Threadfin seemed uncertain, shaking his head, and backing away. Whatever was that about?

  ‘What is done is done,’ said the white-haired woman to Threadfin. If Aiyana hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought her brother s
orrowful, embarrassed.

  ‘Mistakes were made,’ the woman continued, ‘and not just by you, but for the right reasons. Much is risked, and too much is at stake to linger on such things.’

  Her brother gave her a nod, as if in thanks, and then started on sight of Davard, his eyes widening.

  Last came a woman she didn’t know, lithe with dark hair and cold blue eyes. Her pale skin appeared blistered, and she moved weakly, but with determination and judging by her face, a smouldering anger.

  The white-haired woman turned and spoke to Aiyana. ‘Greetings, my lady. I am called Scatter. I believe you lost someone.’

  Cathya’s scowl lasted for a moment before she ran to Aiyana and hugged her tight. Aiyana tried to push her away, not at all certain she trusted her anymore. Cathya was having none of it. She had the cheek to laugh, and Aiyana struggled not to join her. Damn it, but I love her. Despite everything. I love her.

  ‘I’m all out of poisoned needles, Yana. I don’t know whether to bend you over my knee, or kiss you.’ Then she added in a whisper, ‘Maybe both?’ She pulled back a little to examine her indignant charge. ‘I knew you would come to Byrsa, but it is chaotic here. I never thought I’d find you, until I ran into these Aidari. They knew where you’d be.’

  Well, now, how had they known that? It must’ve been Desool, which meant his master also worked with the Aidari. Now that she hadn’t known. ‘I’m not running anymore, Cath. I’m warning you; I’m not going to let you—’

  ‘I know, I know. Like I said,’ she added, holding out her hands, ‘I’m all out of tricks.’

  Aiyana frowned, uncertain she believed her.

  ‘Um, this is your Darken,’ said Threadfin, who then held up his hands at a dark look from Cathya. He sat on the table, one scrawny knee to his chin. ‘I always suspected Rylana, to be honest, not that it matters. Bah, don’t mind me,’ he added when they both stared at him. He resumed glaring at Davard Tystrus.