A Viral Imperium: The Plagueborn Series Book 1

by Darren Joy

Threadfin and Aiyana, both hidden from plebeian eyes beneath their traditional dalbas, sat to their father’s left. The imperator didn’t wear a dalba, but it was customary for his family to do so. It was essential for his son.

  Threadfin stared into the emptying arena, wondering what Liviana Avitus was playing at. Why did his father tolerate her? She wasn’t an advisor, since he didn’t take advice at the best of times. A sycophant was more accurate, one with an agenda.

  He risked a glance at his father, who patted Liviana’s hand as though to soothe her. No, Threadfin didn’t like it at all.

  ‘Recall our legions in the west,’ ordered the imperator. ‘The Ewsannec rebellion there will wait. I want half of the Second from the Gulley to march north.’ A mongrel scribe sat at his feet, a wax tablet in a wooden frame on its knees. It scribbled the orders with a silver stylus onto the yellow-brown wax. ‘We will not take chances. If there were that many sailing along our coast, then it was no raid. Destroyed by storms or not, we must not become complacent. More may come.’

  ‘My lord?’ the high exemplar said, challenge in his voice. His name was Canaan Pen Luthus, the first Valtari to climb the ranks. ‘Half of the Second may prove too much. The Calamiri are not above taking advantage, no more than any other of Eladaldor’s kingdoms. Their spies infiltrate north of the Gulley. Worse, we do not know that since their failure by sea, the giants will not attempt to attack the wall.’

  ‘It has been two hundred years since they last tried that,’ said Markus Olen. ‘They paid dearly as I recall.’

  In the south, beyond the Valtaran Desert and ancient Hatava, was the Gulley. Threadfin had never seen it, but he had read of it: a forty-foot limestone outer wall with a sixty-foot inner one, protected by large round towers and artillery, and a steep sloping glacis. There were deep fortified ditches located inside and outside the outer wall, which could be flooded if required. To that end, there was a broad aqueduct and a dammed lake. The walls protected a narrow gap of land thirty miles across, a wide valley between two mountain ranges.

  There was one gateway, heavily guarded, to allow trade. Inside the walls, a mud brick fort stood every three miles. Each hosted a cohort of four hundred and eighty men. It marked the southern edge of Adalalcas and imperial rule, and linked the northern continent to Eladaldor.

  Beyond was a hodgepodge of squabbling kingdoms and smaller empires, and the Nephilim. The only other routes north were via the Toldron Sea bordered by marshland in the west, or the Adalcis Ocean to the east. Icarthians had long believed the giants incapable of sea travel. The Gulley had received full attention, but over the last few decades, the Nephilim had begun to raid by sea after all.

  ‘Where’s Sarscha?’ Markus Olen bellowed.

  ‘The imperial marshal remains in Tystria,’ said Pen Luthus, no emotion in face or voice. ‘The Ewsannec rebels have dug into their mountain strongholds, but they continue to attack imperial posts. The last report I received said she was preparing to deploy sydarag units west. She has indicated to me the need to form a more permanent military presence there.’

  ‘I expected her return last month. She was to secure the grain supply and then hand over command to Marshal Begnar. A permanent presence? What is she playing at?’

  Pen Luthus shrugged. ‘The situation there has become a little more complex, my lord. No more grain is arriving at the warehouses in Tystria. The rebels attack any of their own people who aid in the loading and transportation. They’ve also killed farmers and razed crops. They do not stand and fight. Time is needed to restore order.’

  ‘The Gulley will hold!’ Markus Olen snapped. ‘Regardless of how many survived the storms, they are already inside our borders. What good then is the wall? Half the number can still defend it. Have those leaving march under cover of night, until they’re far enough north.’

  ‘But, my lord,’ Pen Luthus began.

  ‘Those oversized shits must not be encouraged to march on the capital. Put extra watches along the coast, day and night. I have no doubt that more will come, whether this year or ten years hence. They will come. We must pray to the Spectrum above that the storms killed enough of them this time.’

  ‘What of Byrsa’s citizens?’ asked Pen Luthus. ‘If any did get through, they may attack that city. Merchants, any travellers on the road, would be in danger. Should we not secure that city first?’

  ‘We have plenty of plebs, man. They do tend to multiply quickly. Since we will have less grain from Ewsann, we will require fewer people now won’t we. See it done.’

  Pen Luthus rose, before bowing low. He kept the concern from his face, but Threadfin could not. Thankfully, his cloak’s veil hid the fact. Nephilim within their borders could prove catastrophic. Markus Olen hadn’t replaced the legions bled by wars in the west and south. A battle against just a dozen of the monsters could be a disaster.

  His sister lifted her hand from beneath her magenta cloak, and gripped his. He was glad of her company, but as he glanced down, he saw darkness spread across their fingers. It formed like ribbons alive with purpose. Threadfin felt a chill, bone deep, though his kind didn’t feel cold.

  The dark aura wove an intricate pattern across their hands, like an evil miasma.

  Aiyana didn’t seem to notice at all.

  Chapter 18

  Kidnapped

  Present Day

  WHEN AIYANA’S WORLD bounced into focus, she knew things weren’t right. She attempted to stop the sickening motion by reaching out to steady herself. Her arms refused to move. Her legs proved as uncooperative. Perhaps she was in a wagon or a cart, though the why of it eluded her. After several minutes of confusion, she realised she was slung over a person’s shoulders. Her arms were draped across their back, loosely bound. She smelled sweat and oiled leather armour. She managed to raise her head, though it was difficult to see past her hair and hood.

  She realised the person in question was Captain Turol of the Actaeon Guard, in a blue fish-stained cloak. The cloak smelled better than the man. His stench near unbearable, he carried her through narrow streets cluttered on either side by crumbling villas, battered shop fronts and brothels.

  They’ve kidnapped me, she thought, anger and disbelief battling for precedence. She heard another set of footsteps, lighter and further ahead. She strained to see. As Turol turned a corner, she caught a glimpse of her Darken, despite the darkness and everything being upside down. She wanted to speak, to curse them, but found her tongue uncooperative.

  You and I are going to have a nice talk, Cath, once this lummox puts me down, and once she could string two words together. She’d only need two. There was a strong sour smoky taste in her mouth. She realised she was drooling. What had that sly cat poisoned her with? She didn’t fear for her safety, of course. It was to keep her safe that the misguided fools were doing this.

  A while later, they stood outside the fractured façade of an old church. Well, Aiyana just hung upside, and waited. Cathya wore a faded dirty grey cloak and dark clothing. She was staring at the building’s wall, hands on hips. Its spires were broken, windows smashed. Stone statues sat within their external niches amid excrement smeared walls. The Imperial Church was the only religious power, its paladins equal in status to any conclavist. Five paladins were conclavists. Not to mention, they also acted as bankers. Everyone who mattered owed them money, including the Todralans. The ordinary Mucker seemed not to appreciate the moral authority of the Church, however.

  I wonder why that would be, Aiyana thought wryly. Theft might result in a public flogging. Vandalism of a church meant death. Of course, with a possible civil war looming, none cared.

  They stood close to the low tenements of the stonemasons. The wooden scaffolds and workshops lay further off. The damaged limestone wall stood two hundred paces to the north. There were no sentries on the shattered battlements, the round towers abandoned.

  ‘She’s awake,’ said the clodhopper, shifting Aiyana a little as though feeling the strain. She hoped he was in agony. At least her m
ind had cleared.

  ‘I know,’ said Cathya who didn’t turn. She was kneeling, using a fire striker and flint to light a torch. There was a stench of sulphur as it burst into flame. ‘The dose I gave her was an estimate on height and weight ... and other variables. She shouldn’t be trouble for hours.’ She rose and turned, the torch blazing in her hand, and caught Aiyana’s furious gaze. ‘You will hate me for this. I know that. Once this is all done, I will accept whatever punishment you see fit, even death. I do this because I have to, because you’re too important.’ She turned back, surveying the building again before leading them around the side.

  Cathya brought them into a dank alleyway, and they came to a small battered bronze door. ‘This place is a haven for opium addicts, but it looks quiet tonight. Careful as you go, Turol.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Cathya then said, holding out her hand to touch Aiyana’s cheek. She would’ve bitten it, she was so angry, but instead she moved her head away. It was about all she could move. ‘It is my duty to keep you alive. I am trying to do right by you, by my vows to you.’

  ‘Yet,’ Aiyana slurred, working her mouth, moistening her lips as she regained control of her tongue, ‘you do wrong by my people.’ Grim-damn it anyway, she was drooling again.

  ‘Once you’re safe, where your enemies cannot find you, I will submit myself to your judgement.’

  Oh, Cath, you sweet fool. Her dreams haunted her. Images of fire and death, and scaled winged creatures who were as children to her.

  Cathya opened the door, the hinges squealing, and the captain carried Aiyana into darkness.

  Chapter 19

  Into the Sewer

  AIYANA’S LEFT HAND touched a damp wall, her gold ring scraping against stone. Cathya was ahead, leading the way. The darkness tried to smother the light and despite the glow of the torch, she saw little. Whatever they’d drugged her with was wearing off. The stairwell descended into a deep blackness, as though they descended to meet the Grim. A clanking echo followed her beneath the church, though she had no idea what made the sound. Her Darken had secrets, it seemed. Yes, a long talk was overdue.

  Wet stone and moss beneath her fingertips. Something slithered across her hand, and she withdrew it. As she felt the captain’s boots touch level ground, there was a sweet odour, mingled with damp, and she felt rather than saw an opening on either side. The sound of water echoed off the walls. I’m as helpless as a babe, she realised. What, if an enemy had drugged her? Then again, she would never have allowed an enemy that close. It was because she had trusted the woman.

  It galled, and that she still trusted her made it worse.

  Perhaps, she has a point. The thought rankled worse again, and though she’d never admit it aloud, she couldn’t ignore it. Still, it felt as though she was escaping, saving her own skin. Then again, how could she stop a horde of Nephilim? If her sister returned with her legions, it might not prove enough. I can at least die with my people, she thought.

  Through the winding sewers, they trudged for what felt like hours without stopping. Eventually, they halted for a rest and Turol eased her off his back. She leaned against the catacomb wall and slid into a crouch. Her legs and arms ached, each muscle in her body screaming, but at least feeling had returned.

  Cathya mounted the torch on an old bronze bracket in the sewer wall, and then knelt, touching her shoulder.

  Aiyana was no longer angry. She should’ve seen it coming after all. Cathya had always taken Aiyana’s welfare to be above all else. The woman would’ve left a trail of bodies across the city if she’d thought it necessary. That she hadn’t tried to kill Liviana was a wonder. The woman was too well guarded she supposed.

  ‘I saw him,’ Aiyana said, her voice stronger, ‘in my dreams.’ Her Darken knew of her ability, though she decided not to mention Liviana’s involvement. ‘Gog of Magog, he’s coming.’

  ‘I suppose you should hear this from me,’ said Cathya. ‘There are those I have contact with, who are with your brother right now. They are getting him to safety.’

  Aiyana froze, staring at her in disbelief. ‘Liviana, she’s brought Gog here for him, hasn’t she?’ Why else, move her brother. Maybe she’d always known, but terror gripped her heart when she thought of him. ‘What does Threadfin have to do with anything? He no longer has any claim to the throne. He’s not a threat.’

  ‘Liviana wants both of you, I guess. You will both be safe soon; I promise you that much.’

  ‘To what end?’

  ‘Your survival of course.’

  ‘There’s a connection between Liviana and the giants, though I can’t figure out what it is. Why would a Nephilim prince do her bidding?’ She thought she might know the answer. She’d been trying to find out more, before her father’s death.

  Cathya nodded. ‘That is why it is imperative I get you to safety.’ There was an odd note in her tone, as though she wasn’t saying all she wanted to.

  ‘Running away like this, it isn’t the answer.’ She caught that slight flicker in her Darken’s eyes again. ‘Cath, what is happening?’

  ‘We need to keep moving,’ said Turol deeper into the tunnel. ‘It may not be long before they begin a search underground.’ He looked up at the vaulted brick ceiling as though expecting to hear boots thumping overhead.

  Cathya nodded with impatience, before speaking to Aiyana again. ‘You cannot save these people. That power isn’t yours. If you go back up there and die among them, what will that achieve? She may not have found you, but that’s why she will bring a wrath of destruction. The Nephilim are her own private army now. We must get you away fast. She could use you to get to your brother. I do not intend to let her.’

  Aiyana studied her. The other woman’s face was half in shadow. The captain’s torchlight silhouetted her, as it threw shadows across the brick walls of the tunnel. ‘Where is there to run to?’

  ‘Let’s be getting you up,’ grunted Turol, as he stalked back towards them. He grabbed hold of Aiyana, hauling her to her feet.

  ‘Take your paws off me, dung brain.’

  Turol obeyed with a look of surprise, and hurt. Why should he feel hurt? They had abducted her. ‘It is my job to protect you,’ he sputtered. ‘We cannot afford to stop. If I must, I will carry you by force, but I would prefer if you cooperated.’

  ‘I dare you,’ Aiyana snapped. There was a knot of anger deep in her gut, like a lump of ice with sharp edges. She felt nauseated, unable to forget her dreams, as her enemies sought to break her mind. She feared to sleep, feared losing herself in that other world of dreams, or perhaps falling into a crack between. The horrid taste in her mouth wasn’t helping.

  Cathya stepped between them. ‘Let her be. She needs rest. We all do.’

  ‘We can stop for five minutes longer, but no more. What good will rest do if they catch us?’

  ‘Without rest,’ Cathya countered, ‘we will not be able to keep going, and they will catch us anyway. You are strong, Turol, but even you cannot carry her on your back that far. We’ve a long way to go.’

  ‘Liviana knows about us now. She knows who we are.’

  ‘What does he mean?’ asked Aiyana.

  Cathya glanced at her. ‘Nothing, it’s just a figure of speech.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ Turol growled, face turned to stone perhaps at the suggestion he couldn’t handle it. Men were proud and foolish at times, but soldiers were the worst.

  Aiyana nodded, sinking against the wall once more. ‘It will be enough. I can walk, I think. My legs feel funny, but they feel. No thanks to either of you by the way.’ So, she has secrets of her own then, and I thought we shared everything. She grimaced at the thought, feeling a pang of guilt. Well, perhaps not everything.

  ‘Right,’ said Cathya, who at least had the grace to look ashamed. ‘Well, sorry about that. But you wouldn’t listen to reason.’

  I must get away from them, she thought. She knew that a doom was approaching her people, and that Liviana Avitus was its cause. No, she couldn’t stop th
e Nephilim, but Liviana herself was a different matter.

  She owed it to folks like Misla and Toads, her brother, her friends, but most of all she owed it to her people. She needed only the one opportunity, but it would have to wait until they were above ground. Perhaps, while they slept? She would need to be cooperative, or they might drug her again. Likely, they would follow her when she ran, but that couldn’t be helped. She was imperatrix in all but name, and she had a duty.

  ‘Time to get moving again,’ said Turol beside her and Aiyana jumped. Lost in thought she’d not noticed his approach. Was that five minutes? ‘A few hours and we will be well beyond the walls, and perhaps then you can sleep.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, as Cathya helped her to her feet. If she never slept again, it would be a boon. Leaning on her Darken for support, she hobbled on after the captain.

  Lull them into thinking she was beaten, and then when the right moment came ... and, whatever came after that, well, she would figure it out.

  Chapter 20

  In the Footsteps of Giants

  THE ONE NAMED Wither had trudged on ahead to scout. To Threadfin, he looked like a wraith with skin. Though it was dark and he couldn’t possibly see within the forest, Wither appeared to defy the night. The wraith, along with a quiet woman named Lorn, half dragged Podral Pole between them. There were others, who no doubt flanked their group and guarded the rear. They didn’t bother with torches, but not a one stumbled. These Aidari did seem to know what they were about, at least where sneaking was concerned. They would’ve made good thieves, he supposed. Of all the people to end up with, Aidari terrorists.

  A lithe woman with short dark hair and creamy skin, Lorn appeared possessed of a cold strength. She seemed permanently angry, and managed a few glares in his direction too.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Threadfin asked.

  ‘We have mounts waiting for us beyond,’ Scatter answered. ‘Wither spotted you entering the forest and we split up on foot. It was luck that Podral found you in time.’