A Viral Imperium: The Plagueborn Series Book 1

by Darren Joy

  ‘How’d you know this anyhow?’ snapped the veteran. Threadfin had told them about his sister. ‘You got sources other than us? I never went and gave you permission to go gettin’ other sources. We get the information and pass what we decide to you.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ asked Threadfin. ‘I just know.’ A feeble answer, but what could he tell them?

  It was his bent, or magical talent, seeing things in puddles, mirrors, any reflective surface. He saw strange places or apparitions he didn’t understand. What he never saw, however, was his own reflection. He could also look at a mirror for hours and see nothing worth spit, not that he did that. Just in case. Those visions just snuck up on him when he least expected it. A useless talent. He’d taught himself to avoid looking at reflective surfaces, but it wasn’t always possible.

  These two might’ve believed if he’d explained. Folks had odd notions about what virals could and couldn’t do. Crawl knew the truth. The prime made it his business to know everything, and then used it against folk. They’d never believe Crawl had warned him off. Whatever was coming, Crawl’s deadline was up. Either the fat fool had gotten it wrong, or Threadfin had misunderstood.

  ‘I am leaving,’ he announced, ‘but ... I need your help to get out of Lame.’ He had to try. He owed her that, no matter what she’d said.

  ‘Hah,’ said Pole. ‘He says that as if he had a choice. You go nowhere without our say, lad.’ The thief was staring at Threadfin in a manner at odds with his words. Podral Pole would stare at him, eyes not unkind, even sympathetic. Then, he would say horrible things. No, he did not understand the man and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  ‘Spectrum above,’ Threadfin shot back, deciding Pole wasn’t worth the effort, ‘but you’re dense.’ The thought that this wasn’t the way to get them on side didn’t stop his tongue. ‘Isn’t it your Grim-hooded say, I’m asking for? My sister is the princess, your future imperatrix. If she dies, who knows what will happen. Civil war, maybe.’

  Ludwole spat. ‘Why should any o’ that mean anything to the likes o’ us? Mayhap we could get a lot richer in a war, disappear.’ He resumed stalking the long room. There were two arched doorways, both open, leading to other rooms in the villa and the main entrance.

  Pole munched a piece of blue cheese. He stared at the ceiling as he spoke, spraying crumbs. ‘You’re telling me that I have choices? I can go back with you and get sent to the Crushing Stone, we’ll say for ... ah, past indiscretions, or choice number two and my favourite – I don’t go back, but run off to who knows where, while bounty hunters chase me and I still get killed, because I abandoned you when ordered not to.’

  ‘Well ...’

  ‘Then, there’s choice number four—’

  ‘Three,’ interrupted Threadfin as he shovelled guck into his mouth. This was going as expected. He watched Felps stride back and forth.

  ‘What?’ asked Pole.

  ‘You meant three, you know, comes after two and all that.’ Shut up, he thought. Now is not the time to get him all riled. At times, he couldn’t control himself. His mouth had gotten him into more situations than he cared for, but Pole was fun to irritate.

  Ludwole halted and slammed the table with a knurled fist. ‘I got you back on side with the prime, after that last mess. Did you know that a bloody paladin ordered a search for your sort inside the city? Because o’ you, we might all cark it. Worse, I’m gonna be out o’ pocket, boy, and I don’t like that.’

  ‘You know,’ said Threadfin with a grin, while thinking, shut up, shut up, ‘Crawl’s going to blame you two for this. After all, you got me that last job. Might be best if you just leave, right? You know how irate he gets.’

  ‘Four,’ Pole interrupted, with a glare for both, ‘we stay, while you run off alone, and we take the blame from Crawl.’

  ‘Uh, wasn’t that what I said?’

  Pole laughed, though there was no humour in it. ‘All because, what, you got a bad feeling? You need to give us more, lad. We should hand you over to the prime and be done.’ He glanced at his partner. ‘I could take him to Crawl right now, eh?’ Again, there was an odd look in his eye.

  Threadfin stared at the other thief, wondering what he was up to. ‘You both know what I am. If I say I know, it’s because I know. She’s in trouble and maybe a whole lot of people along with her.’ Not that he cared about breathers, of course.

  ‘She is at that,’ said Ludwole. He looked at his companion for a long moment, before continuing. ‘We got word, late yesterday. I’ve an eyeballer or two up at the mansion. Seems a messenger rode in like hell’s own gorgons were snappin’ at his heels and reported to the commander there. His darag dropped dead soon after, and that was his third mount at least.’ Threadfin blinked at that. Sydarags were of strong endurance, which meant the messenger had rode both mounts, for at least part of the way, at full battle-speed.

  ‘We were goin’ to tell you later,’ he went on, ‘but short o’ it is, your father’s dead. Assassinated. A coup, I guess. Capital’s in an uproar blah, blah, blah. Word is Liviana Avitus is behind it.’

  ‘Aiyana?’ If his heart had worked, it would’ve thundered in his chest. As it was, he felt an ache in his middle. Avitus? His sister had been right.

  Pole removed his feet from the table, and sat straighter with a glance at Ludwole. He began tugging on his boots. ‘She’s missing, lad. No sign or word, not since afore your father’s ...’ He then took out a short bronze dagger and began trimming his fingernails. Why was he nervous?

  ‘What I want to know,’ asked Ludwole, ‘is how you knew anything? No way could you have found out. If not for my eyeballers inside, we wouldn’t have known neither. They’re keepin’ this one quiet for as long as possible, at least until they can announce a new imperator.’

  ‘Imperatrix,’ corrected Threadfin, wondering if he was too late. He didn’t care what they thought. ‘My sister will rule.’ Curse on that Liviana. His sister would’ve gone into hiding. Yes, she wouldn’t have let herself be taken. Icarthya held near a million people, many poor. He knew where she would’ve gone. It gave him a little time.

  ‘I’m leaving Lame, tonight,’ he added in a low voice, readying for the backlash. ‘I’m taking someone with me, too, and I don’t mean you bastards. A friend, although I have to find her first.’ He could’ve told them more, but he didn’t trust them. ‘You don’t have to follow. Disappear after you get us out. Look, you know something’s wrong. Crawl hasn’t come looking like he should’ve, and the ... imperator is dead, the same imperator who ordered you here in the first place. Stay or go, you know your time here is up.’

  ‘You know, Lud,’ said Pole with a shrug, ‘could be, he’s got a—’

  ‘Quiet,’ said Ludwole. He moved to place his back to the wall nearest the right doorway. He slowly drew a dagger from the hide sheath on his hip. Then Threadfin heard it, hurrying footsteps, but they didn’t sound like those of a grown man. Tezcat rushed towards the open door, calling his name, that Grim-blinded mongrel on her heels.

  Threadfin stood and motioned for Felps to put away his blade. The undead teenage girl entered but then halted, looking at both men with a frown.

  ‘Who’s this then?’ asked Pole. ‘The friend you were talking about? And what’s that doing here,’ he added, staring at the mongrel. The creature gave a series of sharp growls and stamped its staff.

  He realised they didn’t recognise the girl. He’d assumed, feared, they knew of her. ‘Cat, what is it?’

  ‘They has killed everyone. We gotta go.’

  ‘Is it the prime?’ asked Ludwole.

  ‘What ... no, Crawl’s missing, along with a load o’ others. Greencloaks is fighting back, but they’s losing.’

  Pole jumped to his feet, one hand on the hilt of a long blade on his hip, the dagger in his other hand. ‘Who is it, girl, and quick now, spit it out.’

  She shook her head. ‘Don’t know, I mean, I isn’t sure. They gots blood cloaks and stuff, and none o’ them looks nice. There’s a l
ot of ’em. I think they’s here for you.’ She said that last to Threadfin, her dull eyes, pleading. If she’d been a breather, she would’ve been crying at this point. Girls did that.

  ‘Exemplars,’ whispered Threadfin and shook his head. It had to happen someday, and today was someday.

  ‘Where are they now?’ asked Pole. He had sheathed his bronze dagger, and drawn the longer iron blade. He was frowning at Ludwole as he fingered the edge, another odd look in his eye.

  Tezcat was dancing on her toes, dust flying from her shaggy hair. ‘I don’t know ... I don’t know, everywhere, I guess. They been arrestin’ and killin’ all over the place.’

  The earth trembled. Wooden cups and plates rattled on the table. Dust trickled from the ceiling.

  ‘Damn all angels to the pit of Grim’s own bowels,’ swore Pole. ‘I’m sick of all this rattling and shaking. About time, we were gone.’

  Ludwole appeared to hesitate, and strangely, his partner took a step towards the old soldier, grip tightening on his weapon’s hilt. Ludwole didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps he was thinking about handing Threadfin over to them, for a juicy reward. What was going on between those two?

  ‘They’re killing people, including Lame’s soldiers,’ said Threadfin. ‘That means they’ll kill both of you. I don’t think they’ll look well on two criminals who’ve been aiding and abetting my sort. And you can bet that’s what I’ll tell them if you give me up. Not as though the old imperator is alive to disagree.’

  Threadfin noted Tezcat’s lack of surprise, telling him she’d already known. Where did she always get her information from?

  Pole gave Threadfin a tight smile. ‘It looks like we’re leaving with you after all.’ Odd, but he appeared pleased.

  ‘Fine then, grab hold o’ him,’ the old soldier hissed and Pole obeyed, taking Threadfin by the arm. He felt glad Podral was staying. Odd that. ‘Stay put until I get back,’ Felps growled, glaring at his companion. ‘Don’t let him out o’ your sight.’

  ‘Where you going?’ asked Pole.

  ‘To see where the bastards are at. Not much good if we walk right into ’em with him, now is it? I got to scout us the safest route. Looks like you get your wish, boy. Don’t worry, you’ll be shot o’ us soon enough.’ That last sounded more a threat than a promise.

  ‘We need to get out of Lame right now,’ said Threadfin, once Ludwole had gone. ‘You know I’m right.’ Would Pole try to kill him? ‘Please?’ The thief was staring at the spot, where the old soldier had been a moment ago.

  ‘Hurry,’ pleaded Tezcat, ‘we got to go now.’ Sprog appeared agitated, whistling and growling, stamping his staff.

  The other man muttered a bit, as though debating with himself. Then in a quick motion, he grabbed Threadfin’s dirty cloak from a chair, and tossed it to him. ‘Right,’ he whispered, and then muttered what sounded like another prayer. ‘Hurry on then, lad, let’s get you gone.’

  Chapter 6

  Treachery

  FIRES RAGED, ECHOED by red clouds over the city. The cries intensified, amid the stomping boots of soldiers. They snuck along a dank alleyway, led by Podral Pole. Sprog had vanished, though Tezcat appeared unconcerned.

  The thief was mumbling again, ‘Don’t like this one bit. Bastard, taking off like that. Can’t see what’s ahead, but I know what’s behind. Left it too late. Scats will have my hide for this.’

  ‘Of course, something’s not right,’ snapped Threadfin, the man’s muttering starting to grate, and who was Scats? ‘Look around. What did you think was right?’

  The girl gripped his hand, pulling him onward. ‘It’s okay,’ he said in a calm voice, though he felt anything but. ‘I’ll not let anything happen you, I promise.’ It was easier moving about since dusk had descended, though the shouts of their pursuers remained close behind.

  ‘Don’t be so grolg-stupid,’ she hissed, as they halted. Pole scouted a little ahead. ‘Not me they’s after is it?’

  He knew, if not for her, he’d be full dead. Another addition to her tally. No need to point it out, though. Rats scurried through the inedible mulch at his feet. The trio shuffled along in the growing dark. All day, they’d been running and hiding. Their pursuers had entered the alleyways too. Pole was good at keeping a step ahead, good for a breather he supposed, and kept them hidden when he couldn’t. Redcloaks appeared to watch all exits from the city, but there were two left to try. There seemed no way out. He said as much to Pole.

  ‘You think I’m a fool?’ the thief asked, scratching the scar on his face.

  ‘That a trick question?’ asked Tezcat.

  Pole glared at her. ‘I know what I’m doin’. You’ll see. I’ll get us out.’ Threadfin noticed his usual malice had vanished, replaced by a more general grumpiness.

  A figure materialised from the shadows towards the end of the alley. It was dark, but Threadfin saw well enough to recognise who it was.

  ‘Lud,’ hissed Pole, when the old veteran got closer. ‘I had figured you dead by now.’

  ‘Wishful thinkin’, eh Pods?’ said Ludwole as he reached them. ‘Thought I told you to stay put?’

  There was a flurry of movement. Threadfin had no clue what had happened, until he saw Pole on the ground. A dark stain spread across the man’s tunic below the chest. Tezcat had disappeared. Clever girl. He eyed the leaf-bladed dagger in Ludwole’s hand, Threadfin’s dagger.

  ‘Where’d that little bitch get to?’ Ludwole growled. He kicked Pole’s body and spat on it. ‘Guess I gave you too much credit. Still, you managed to evade longer than expected. After all, had to come myself, didn’t I.’

  Threadfin had already turned to run, but two figures blocked the other end of the alley. He couldn’t see their faces, only silhouettes against an orange glow. Ludwole Felps grabbed him by the neck and dragged him into the shadows.

  His cheek scraped the rough wall, grazing his right ear. Pressure on his skull kept him pinned. ‘Apologies, my lord prince,’ Felps hissed. ‘Is that comfortable enough for you?’

  Threadfin attempted to wrench free but the veteran was strong for a breather, freakishly strong. Felps whirled him about, and slammed him against the wall. ‘No point fighting it,’ he snarled. ‘Can’t win, can’t escape.’

  He dragged Threadfin out from the wall and grabbed him around the neck, holding him in place. ‘He’s all yours, as promised.’ Another man stepped into view. An exemplar, Threadfin realised with shock, before he recognised which one. The high exemplar, in a red cloak and iron scale, wore no expression.

  A light then filled the man’s eyes, as though his pupils were diamonds in sunlight. Spider-like veins of red and orange pulsed beneath the skin of his face and neck as though molten fire filled him instead of blood. Wasn’t a look Threadfin would’ve gone for himself. A bit too last century and over the top.

  He noticed at the corner of his vision two others moving closer. ‘What are you?’ he asked in a hoarse voice. Speaking was difficult with a crushing arm against his neck.

  Canaan Pen Luthus raised a dagger with a bone hilt. The double-bladed serrated weapon shimmered as though forged within the sun. Threadfin knew he wasn’t going to enjoy the next bit. The others stood to either side now, a man and woman also wearing red cloaks.

  ‘No matter to you, who he is,’ Felps hissed in his ear, and then louder, ‘Hurry up, and do it already. Haven’t got forever you know.’

  Pen Luthus shot the old soldier a glare that should’ve split him open, for all the lack of emotion. The woman answered for him. She had golden-white hair and a pale complexion. ‘Still your tongue or I will cut it from your head. There are things that cannot be rushed. There are forms to follow. Know your place, thrael.’

  The soldier tightened his grip. He muttered several things he wanted to do to her. He was inventive, and twisted, although he made certain she didn’t hear.

  Pen Luthus began to hum, his tone taking on an undulating cadence, like a pagan rite from his homeland, but the voice was unnatural, inhuman. The woma
n added strange words to the rite, which were neither the Icarthian tongue nor Valtari.

  Threadfin shut his eyes ... home. He focused on images of the palatium, of the leaf-strewn courtyards, of his sister, of a time when he’d been, if not happy, then content with his lot. I got careless, he thought. Should’ve known they would come.

  There was a loud grunt, followed by the soft thud of a body, interrupting the ritual. He opened his eyes and saw Tezcat standing there. An exemplar was in a heap at her feet with a dagger in his lower back. The bloodied corpse began to rise, drawing its sword as it did. Pen Luthus tried to continue the rite. The female exemplar had drawn her sword, and turned to face the threat. The corpse swung the blade at her, and she blocked it with her own.

  The ground shook. Threadfin stumbled, his captor losing his grip. An elbow to the bastard’s face hurried things along. Tezcat managed to keep her feet. ‘Run,’ she shouted. She’d let the corpse go. The wriggling body entangled itself with the female exemplar on the ground.

  Threadfin hesitated. ‘Come with me.’

  She shook her head. ‘You thick-skulled dunce, they isn’t after me.’

  Pen Luthus regained his feet, still holding the shimmering blade, skin pulsing with fire. He loomed over the girl. Tezcat, always so clever, so invisible, didn’t vanish this time, but mouthed one last word, ‘Run!’ Threadfin stared in disbelief as the blade entered her small body.

  A fraction of a second later, she was gone, likely fallen to the ground. He couldn’t see her. Pen Luthus was floundering about. The others were in motion. The high exemplar gestured at them. ‘Yala, get him.’ Just then, a small figure with a staff launched itself at Pen Luthus with a snarling assault. Turning and running, Threadfin lost sight of the mongrel. Sprog wouldn’t last long.

  Had he been capable, tears would’ve flowed down his withered face. Tezcat Licolo had never hurt anyone. Sure, she’d played jokes on folk, but who didn’t like jokes? She’d never prank anyone again. Full dead, because she’d been brave and loyal.