A Viral Imperium: The Plagueborn Series Book 1

by Darren Joy

  ‘Shut up, you blubbering old fool,’ spat Davard, wiping his face. ‘Are you intent on giving us a civil war? Because that’s what will happen if you drag her into this.’

  ‘It’s them Plagueborn that’s behind it,’ shouted Cicero. ‘It was them that murdered the imperator, and Liviana Avitus is one of them I’ll vow. Viral scum, they’ll bring death upon us all.’

  ‘You’ll be just plain dead,’ snapped Eadricus Brutus, with his brother Eadan nodding beside him, ‘if you continue saying things like that.’

  Further insults were exchanged and then the real shouting began. Aiyana sat there, elbow on her knee and hand to her forehead, eyes shut. None had noticed her, intent as they were upon their own fears. What hope of uniting these fools against Avitus? No, they weren’t fools. They were afraid. Avitus had brought them here by force, perhaps holding their relatives hostage, or perhaps the threat was enough. Then she’d forced them to wait until their tempers frayed, all hope of a united stand, gone. Now, she guessed, Liviana would use a combination of guile and fear to whip them into submission. Once the conclave was hers, they would vote her as the new imperatrix and imperial law be damned.

  She opened her eyes, a throbbing in her skull as the bickering grew in pitch.

  It was then the woman chose to enter, trailed by twenty guards. The bickering quieted, and Polius wasted no time in taking his seat. Davard mopped his jutting brow and face with enthusiasm, while it appeared that Polius’ father had gone back to sleep. A dull snore was the only sound as Liviana surveyed them with a predatory gaze.

  When that gaze stopped on Aiyana, the princess shivered, and for a moment, wondered if she had not made a terrible mistake.

  Chapter 10

  To Gain Time

  AIYANA WATCHED THE five men and four women enter the conclave behind Liviana Avitus, each wearing robes of silver trimmed with gold.

  Following them were soldiers. Hawk nosed Liviana, her face whitened with damp cosmetic chalk, wore a gown like the nine, but with the colours reversed. She wore her long sable hair braided to her waist. All the nine, of course, were her family. Each was a patrician who held a seat in conclave. They approached the front row, and took their places. Following behind in procession were mongrels in drab grey. Each scribe carried several wooden items stacked atop one another.

  Avitus paused in the centre of the chamber and looked towards her peers, though she made it seem as though she was looking upon subjects. Her gaze came to rest on one person.

  ‘Welcome, Aiyana Todralan,’ the miserable harlot said in a smooth voice. ‘I’m delighted to see you unharmed. Such rumours of your vanishing had us concerned. It is good of you to join us, although might I add, without invitation.’

  Heads turned towards Aiyana. A few faces displayed open astonishment. Others smiled or frowned.

  Hells Teeth! she thought, but lowering her hood, said, ‘Fortunately, a messenger found me.’ The trollop wasn’t there one minute and she’d both noticed and singled her out. She couldn’t help thinking this was a mistake. ‘As a Todralan by blood, a princess and heir to the throne, I was unaware I required an invitation to attend, Conclavist Avitus. Perhaps it was well I did. It appears others have also mislaid their invitations. Imperial communication isn’t what it was.’ Too late now, you fool. You have to see this through. So much for catching the bitch by surprise.

  ‘Quite right,’ said Liviana with a smile and a slight nod. She scanned her audience making sure she had everyone’s attention. ‘Quite right, indeed, and it would also appear your fellows here don’t feel as patriotic as you. Yes, you should all look to our dear little Aiyana. She sets an example I intend you all to follow.’

  Set an example or make one? Aiyana felt her cheeks flush and began to sympathise with Davard, as numerous pairs of eyes locked on her. Rylana was staring at her in surprise, while her brother beside her appeared thoughtful. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Of course, Liviana had handpicked those in attendance, all known or suspected dissenters removed. The malleable remained. It saddened her that Rylana was in that camp. Oh, they all grumbled and griped behind Liviana’s back, but none had the resolve to stand against her ... except, perhaps, for one.

  She glanced at him, and found he was not staring at her. That man controlled the imperial spy network, and none but Aiyana knew. Her father had chosen him. What she did not know, however, was if she could count on him. Without a ruler on the throne, where did his loyalties lie?

  Polius came to her rescue. ‘What is the meaning of this, Conclavist Avitus? You didn’t summon us, but forced us here. Even Markus Olen, the Spectrum guide his soul, would never have done this. He was a man to fear, but he was a man who understood respect, and the rule of law. Neither would your father sanction this.’

  Avitus’ smile widened, but Aiyana noticed it didn’t touch her eyes. ‘My dearest Polius, you are right.’

  The old man shut his mouth and sat. He hadn’t expected that, and he wasn’t the only one to appear confused.

  ‘Drastic times call for drastic measures,’ Liviana continued, seeming pleased at the silence. ‘Our world stands on the precipice of disaster. One push and it will plunge to its destruction. You all know of what I speak.’

  Aiyana glanced about at her companions, and they at one another. The murmuring rose again, but died as quick, as though they’d reached a mumbled consensus of which she wasn’t a part.

  ‘You mean the raids,’ said fat Davard, the saturated cloth abandoned, the sleeves of his robes taking its place.

  ‘She means the Nephilim,’ said Rylana Cipius, her brother Markus nodding in agreement.

  ‘They’re only on our coast,’ said another voice. ‘They’ve been doing that for over two years now. It’s nothing. We’ve endured raids for centuries.’

  ‘Yes, yes, leave them alone and they will leave us be.’

  ‘It’s always been that way.’

  ‘I’ve read reports they’ve moved further inland and may attack Byrsa,’ said another. ‘They’re gathering together and more ships are on the way.’

  ‘A gulac, I heard, of over a thousand. They have wargs with them too. It could get out of control. We should do something lest we encourage them.’

  ‘Yes, I read a similar report. They used to take slaves, but this time they’re slaughtering whole villages and towns. What has gotten them riled up?’

  ‘Just a matter of time before it’s the cities. Give the beasts something to think about. Show them imperial iron.’

  ‘That storm twelve years ago ravaged their ships. They’re scattered and many of them died. Those that live just raid to survive. They’ve been hiding in the mountains where no one can get to them. They’re no threat. Why risk our legions against a few raiders? You all know what a dozen giants could do to a legion. Why provoke them?’

  ‘No, there’s more of them now. More ships were sighted off the coast of Valtar. My sources are reliable.’

  ‘We mustn’t appear weak.’

  ‘The princess, she has a will of iron like her father. We must have a leader.’

  Silence greeted that last, but Liviana’s stare upon the Brutus family told Aiyana where it had come from.

  ‘We don’t know how many survived the storm,’ said Eadricus Brutus. ‘We can’t be certain how many are aboard those ships or what they intend. We’re blind. We need more information.’

  ‘Aiyana Todralan must take the throne,’ said his son Ethon, with his uncle taking up the cry.

  Several more voices chorused their opinions, each of them a louder supporter of Aiyana as they gained courage, even Davard. Liviana attempted a solemn look, but Aiyana saw that smile at the corner of her mouth. What was she grinning at? The conclave was showing support for Todralan, not Avitus. Aiyana’s heart sank. This was part of the woman’s plan.

  Liviana raised one hand, in a placating gesture. ‘Our rule has always been strong, a bulwark against such threats, but today, brothers and sisters, we are seen as weak. Our great leader, our
protector, Markus Olen Todralan, is dead. Yes, his daughter sits here among us, but did she take her father’s place when our greatest need was upon us? Did she lead us in our darkest hour? No, she fled and hid. Even today, she sat there among you hiding her face. This is no time to honour traditions. What good tradition if the Nephilim destroy us?’

  If I was hiding out of cowardice, why would I bother coming at all? thought Aiyana, her gaze boring into Avitus. I’ve signed my death warrant just being here.

  ‘We are abandoned,’ Liviana continued, ‘cast out into the cold and wet of night, with the howling of giants. Her father,’ she said then, pointing a long finger at Aiyana, ‘was a leader, but the daughter is not ready. Would you let that girl, who spent her life feeding Muckers and invalids, who hid the true nature of her diseased brother, rule us? Oh, yes, did I not mention, Threadfin Todralan is ... Plagueborn.’

  Silence but for a few audible gasps, and then shouts of denial, demands for proof. From all but one, but of course, he would’ve known. They had masqueraded Threadfin’s appearance as an illness that kept him from public life. A dangerous ploy considering the last of the plagues had ended several decades ago. People feared their return. They feared virals most of all.

  ‘Yes,’ Liviana announced, ‘she concealed and protected the undead. She hid his nature from her own father. Markus Olen was a merciful man and discovering the truth, exiled the undead rogue, though few would have faulted him if he’d sentenced it to death. She is not fit to lead us.’

  ‘The, the,’ stammered Rylana Cipius, ‘the clots were all exterminated, weren’t they? We were assured in the historical accounts that, that none survived. This cannot be.’

  ‘All were exterminated, but one has returned,’ said Liviana in a whisper that managed to carry to all. Rylana’s eyes widened. ‘And if one, how many others? A handful ... more? I wonder if it is the Nephilim we should fear.’

  Aiyana shook her head, sickened by the lies, but unable to mount a defence. Shouting back denials wouldn’t serve. The men and women of the conclave would believe those lies or not. It had always been that way. Besides, they weren’t all lies. Her brother’s nature had been kept secret.

  ‘Protecting the undead is a capital offense,’ shouted Rylana Cipius. ‘Have the exemplars arrest her.’ They had played together as children, and the woman had reason to feel aggrieved. She’d believed the lies Aiyana had told to her face.

  Heated murmuring erupted at that, several conclavists shaking heads. It seemed the conclave was divided on that last at least. There might still be a chance to sway them.

  The witch raised her hands once more. ‘Markus Olen Todralan, the Spectrum grace his soul, did not wish harm to his daughter. Therefore, none shall harm her. The deed is done, the brother exiled.’

  Aiyana’s felt blood draining from her face. No, you don’t intend me to leave here alive, do you, Liviana. Dispose of me quietly, but have yourself still come out looking merciful.

  ‘What, brothers and sisters, are we to do? Will we remain leaderless to face these invaders?’

  For a moment, silence followed her words. Aiyana stifled her scorn with effort, and looked instead at the columns edging the room beyond the scribes, to the soldiers hidden there. This was a piece of theatrical drama to sway the conclave. There was no threat to Icarthya.

  She didn’t think there could be many of the giants ... but then she frowned. What is it I’m not seeing here?

  ‘Send the legions against them,’ suggested Polius.

  ‘You blathering old gnat,’ Davard spat. ‘The legions have never stood against that many.’

  ‘I thought we didn’t know how many there are?’

  Davard growled. ‘We must ensure the safety of the capital. Here is the heart of our imperium.’

  ‘What good a heart, without a head?’ asked Lucius, picking his nose. ‘We need someone on the throne, to lead. We all know that left to the conclave, we will never agree on anything, at least, not in time.’ Aware of what he’d said, Lucius Aidarius went quiet, though he continued poking a nostril, if more aggressively.

  Avitus saw this as her cue. ‘My fellows in conclave, my brothers and sisters, loyal patriots all, I humbly beg you to consider your vote carefully.’

  ‘And,’ Davard asked, ‘whom do we vote for?’

  ‘I am sure you are all familiar with the rules. If there is no Todralan heir, which there isn’t ...,’ she gave a meaningful look towards Aiyana, ‘power reverts to the conclave. There must be a vote for a patrician family head holding a seat. However, only a family with the greatest number of seats is eligible. That would be Avitus and Shivar.’

  As if, no one there knew that.

  ‘Alas,’ she continued, ‘the burden appears to have fallen on my own since it appears there aren’t any Shivars present.’ She stared at Aiyana as though daring her to speak. Liviana would have ensured no Shivars with a seat lived. ‘Therefore, as family matriarch, I accept it with the greatest respect and gratitude.’

  Huh, thought Aiyana feeling irritated. Matriarch, indeed. No doubt, she had also ensured that no one older than herself remained either. There was no sign of Domon Avitus, her father. At the least, she would’ve sent him into exile.

  ‘It is necessary, given the grave threat on our borders that we must rush proceedings along.’ She gave a curt gesture and the scribes stirred. They distributed to each conclavist a small boxwood tablet covered in wax. They would record their votes with a stylus, writing a single letter for assent or dissent. Given the number of soldiers surrounding them, it was clear which way Liviana intended the vote to go, never mind that there was no other candidate.

  ‘You want us to cast our vote now?’ asked Polius with a grimace staring at the wax tablet. ‘You want to be imperatrix by dawn. This goes against voting procedure.’

  ‘This is irregular,’ said another voice, if muted.

  Liviana gave them a frosty smile. ‘I would love to wait longer and do things according to custom, but well, I’m sure you all understand that we require a leader soon. We will not bother with—’

  ‘Excuse me,’ interrupted Aiyana. She fought the urge to retch, as she felt all eyes turn, a third time, upon her. There was a lot of anger in those faces. ‘Ah, I do believe you’re overlooking something.’

  Liviana’s smile slipped a little, but remained no less cold. ‘Yes, my young dear. By all means, have your say. You have our rapt attention.’

  You bet I will, you pock-faced witch. ‘There are two families, as you said, with a majority of seats. There is yours, of course—’

  ‘There are no Shivars here,’ snapped the other woman.

  ‘And mine.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Our family has one seat. My father was imperator, was he not? Todralans have sat the throne of Icarthya for almost a thousand years. The throne itself trumps all seats in the conclave.’

  ‘I thought,’ said Liviana with a sneer, ‘that we covered that subject. Do you wish me to embarrass you further? Alas, you are no longer the heir.’ She clasped her hands and bowed her head as if to say she wished it otherwise, but well, there it was.

  ‘You have no proof of that. Did my father disown or disinherit me?’

  Liviana glanced at her guards before glaring at Aiyana. No doubt, she was considering aggressive measures. ‘You are not fit to rule.’ She raised her hands to encompass the conclave. ‘Does anyone here wish to suggest otherwise? Must I bring up the matter of your brother again?’ She gave a slight flick of one hand.

  In the background, Liviana’s soldiers drew their swords on cue, red cloaks draping the marble floor as they stepped forwards in unison. They halted with another gesture from Liviana as conclavists squirmed and muttered. ‘I think that issue is settled,’ she said.

  You can’t secure power with another running against you and dividing the vote, now can you, Liviana. Well, here goes nothing. ‘No,’ she said aloud in a firm voice, though her stomach did backflips, ‘it is not.’

  �
�I’ve had enough,’ said Liviana in a tired voice, as though weary over an impossible child. ‘Arrest her.’

  Several of the exemplars began to move, but halted as quick.

  Liviana frowned and turned around. Her jaw dropped, before she managed to school her face. ‘Oh, you are playing a dangerous game, girl.’

  From the darker reaches of the chambers, emerged men at arms with blades drawn. The soldiers faced this new threat, confused, and looking to Liviana. No doubt, they would attack if she ordered it. Aiyana spotted her Darken in the shadows, a long dagger in hand. The woman’s face was a mask of death. Captain Turol was also there. Liviana stared at those two, frozen in place for a moment.

  ‘Did you think,’ asked Aiyana, rising to her feet, ‘that I had no support, no swords at my call?’

  The other woman motioned for her men to hold their positions, and then turned to gaze up at her with a sinister smile. Her eyes burned with anger. ‘A handful of rogues isn’t an army, my dear. I command the city and the legions. Do you think you and your rabble will get far once you leave here? The rest of you,’ she snapped with a glare for the conclave, ‘vote!’

  ‘Hold,’ said Aiyana in a lower, but firmer voice. The politicians seemed torn between voting and fleeing, all but Cicero who continued snoring. Davard’s flabby face was awash in sweat. They decided to do neither.

  ‘The imperial marshal has command over our forces since my father’s death,’ continued Aiyana. ‘Which means all legions, including those within this city. That power did not pass to the conclave, or you. She is my older sister and thus a Todralan.’ No need to mention her brother again. Best if they forgot about him for a while.

  ‘Yes, yes, and a wonderful commander she’s proven to be. What of it?’

  ‘Sarscha Todralan is a woman of great patriotic duty, and of the law.’ They hadn’t spoken in years. They didn’t even like each other. ‘This is well known, and I doubt anyone here would disagree. Did you think, Avitus, she would hand over command of the legions to you, seeing as her family have the only right to rule? No doubt, word of our father’s murder will have reached her.’