A Viral Imperium: The Plagueborn Series Book 1

by Darren Joy

  Torches flickered as a frigid breeze gusted through the open colonnade of the outer palace grounds. Exemplar guards shivered. These stood not far from the stables. Their tunics and scaled armour, or the newer segmented cuirasses, were little grace against the cold. They wrapped their cloaks closer, not seeing him until it was too late.

  They were Andromeda’s, no longer his. Many of the corridors of the palace opened to the air on this southern side. Sculpted pillars lined this one, marking members of the old families, in imitation of those in Icarthya. Stepping over the bodies, he passed along the colonnade, and saw the unfolding of imperial history, the ancient tharons and their city states giving way to an imperium, and a single ruler.

  He halted by the final pillar. The features of Icarthya’s recent rulers were less weather worn. Only the face of each ruler earned a place. Silver etched the expressions, outlined eyes and hair. He felt drawn to one in particular. The sculptors had completed it not long ago. He stroked the face with a finger, feeling the smoothness, the prominent nose, and those eyes ... the palm of his hand grew hot, until it glowed redder than a coal fire. The stone face melted. She had brought all their plans to ruin. She would defeat the undead mage, taking the Key for herself. There would be no reward for him, no world to rule.

  He turned and shoved open the narrow servant door. Light splashed across the pillars, and the bodies of exemplar guards, stone hair glittering above the disfigured likeness of Liviana Avitus. A lone torch lit the narrow plain whitewashed corridor.

  The door shut behind him.

  Chapter 40

  Triggering the Trap

  CATHYA ENTERED THE palace grounds through a small gate set in a wall surrounding a rose garden. It took her seconds to freeze the lock, and shatter it. With the battle ongoing, there were few left to guard the entire complex. No one challenged her. Forcing it open, she entered and extended her wings. It felt good to be herself, to not have to hide. It had not all been a lie of course. Her role as Darken had merged with her true purpose, and her love for Aiyana had grown out of it. She’d wanted to tell her the truth. The princess had her own secrets and though Cathya had known everything, she wished they could’ve cast aside their masks. Yes, it felt good.

  She entered through a wide corridor lined with carved pillars. A lone torch lit the way. She’d expected greater resistance. Maybe she could reach Liviana first, and Aiyana wouldn’t have to put herself in danger. She broke into a run, eager to be done.

  As she reached a length of corridor at the top of a broad marble staircase, Liviana attacked her from the gloom, hurling power like spitting fire. The Darken’s feathers hardened like iron, repelling the blows. Within seconds, dozens of armoured guards set upon her. Some of the Redcloaks bore soul shards, those being thraels. She ducked and rolled between her attackers. The floor itself was alive as it snatched at her, but she was quick. Lightning struck at her. Its accuracy was astonishing as it avoided the thraels. Blow after blow she avoided or thwarted, but they had her surrounded. Then, one came too close.

  She struck out with her own power. A finger of cold white light pierced through his armour, puncturing the heart. All about her was darkness, except when flashes of magic lit the corridor as bright as the sun. They came at her in episodic motion, between bouts of pitch blackness.

  Her soul pulsed with vitality. She struck again with her power. Its light parted the darkness, then armour and the flesh beneath. A second fell, a third, a fourth. Her wings beat, fast and violent. She rose, dragging another with her, before letting the torn body fall. She felt disdain for what Liviana had done. Bestowing angelic weapons upon humans was a crime. Branding them that way meant bondage until their deaths.

  She dropped with speed to the floor. Landing, her right wing rammed into more attackers. Two bodies slammed into the far wall. Stone fingers reached out. The exemplars screamed as the wall consumed them. Cathya paused in surprise, long enough for her assailants to regroup and attack as one.

  Liviana was somewhere in the background, hidden. As the soldiers attacked, the harpy struck. Flaming vines, this time careless for the lives of her thraels, wrapped around Cathya, constricting her legs. Glowing red and yellow barbs punctured her skin where her wings failed to protect her. It clawed at her soul, attempting to quench its light. The Darken twisted her torso and the edge of her left wing sliced through the neck of a female thrael.

  Ten opponents remained, and they again attacked together. Liviana struck, barbs of fire filled the air like arrows, taking out her own. Cathya’s wings shielded her, but many barbs struck home, even as the burning coils bit deeper into her flesh. Stone flags erupted from beneath her. Grasping claws of granite grabbed her. She tried to fly, to escape. The Darken screamed as stone fingers ripped at her wings.

  They pulled her down in a flurry of blood and feathers.

  AIYANA ATTEMPTED TO get her bearings. The corridors of the palace were moving. She tried to ignore the strangeness, which had begun after she’d entered through the empty stable courtyard. There was a small culvert in the outer wall, for runoff when the grooms washed the yard and stables. It consisted of a gap with four rusted iron bars, which were all loose. She had used it as a girl to sneak out under her father’s nose, when they had stayed in Byrsa. The alterations inside the palace were hideous, walls and floors groaning like the innards of a vast beast. There were no guards in sight, save dead ones. She assumed those were Cathya’s work.

  What had Liviana done? In her wildest nightmares, Aiyana could never have imagined such a scene of gross horror. It could only have been the effect of the Shathra Stone. The woman had learned something of its use, which made retrieving it vital. Who knew what she might be capable of? Liviana was learning the Stone, changing reality. She could unravel existence.

  Twice the walls attempted to snag her. She came on several doors. Some opened onto blank stone. Had the doors shifted, or had the entire room become encased? She searched through winding corridors, up flights of stairs that hadn’t existed before, opening doors. Not since she was a child had she seen the Blue Palace, and with all the changes, she was lost.

  She emerged into the night once more, and found herself walking through a wide courtyard bordered with pillars and trees. There was a large ornately carved fountain at its centre. The pillars depicted the carved faces of her ancestors. Marble heads turned to follow her, eyes blinking. She tried not to look at them, telling herself it was her imagination.

  Beyond the courtyard, she passed through a variety of corridors, until she arrived at the Great Hall. The bronze doors lay open, and within, Liviana Avitus stood waiting.

  SUNLIGHT, THROUGH A windowed dome above, illuminated a golden throne upon a marble dais. Its presence was symbolic. There was another less ornate chair below the dais for the governor. The room was circular, walls rising to the windowed apex forty feet above in imitation of the Throne Room in Icarthya, albeit smaller. Twenty feet out from the walls and in a semicircle stood ten pillars of red veined, white marble. Around the edges and within the shadows were more exemplars, swords held point down before them. Liviana wanted her to enter. This was the heart of the trap. Aiyana wondered what had happened to Cathya. Well, she would spring it herself. There was no other option.

  She stepped inside.

  Movement pulled her gaze from the guards. The marble pillars grated as they twisted in spirals, charred, and wriggling with life. Skeletal arms stretched out from the pillars towards the dais as if reaching for power.

  In the ceiling of the dome were thrashing forms. Stone partially devoured the figures. The windows had vanished. Arms and legs protruded, and the empty sockets of skulls. Are they real? No, she told herself, shutting her eyes. This is all an illusion. It isn’t real.

  She walked through the Great Hall. There was a faint glow, but she couldn’t determine its source. None of the exemplars stirred. No doubt, they had orders to leave her to Liviana. She’d been certain the woman had been standing upon the dais, but it was empty now. To the
right, the floor ended in a gorge that had not been there a moment before. Beyond it was a deep darkness. There was a woman on the floor not far from the edge, her bare back a riven mess. Two feathered stumps protruded from her back. Chains of stone held her arms and legs, claws of granite gripping her shattered wings. The stone moved, slicing into Cathya’s flesh.

  ‘Look inside,’ croaked her Darken. ‘Of course, do take your time, Yana. Not as though I’ve anything better ... to do but ... lounge around here.’

  Stepping closer, while wondering how she might free her Darken, Aiyana judged the chasm twenty feet across. Its depth fell to a murky gloom. Within were scrambling figures on its walls, lit by a wan glow. Always climbing but never reaching the top, doomed to an eternity of false hope. The thought came from nowhere.

  She dropped to the Angelborn’s side. She’d come to kill Liviana and take the Stone, but she couldn’t do it alone. She understood that now. She drew the soul splice from her belt, hoping it would cut through the bonds. It was after all an unearthly weapon, but she had no experience of such matters.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Cathya hissed. ‘The bitch is here. Forget me. This is what she wants.’

  Aiyana ignored her as she tried to sever the bonds, but the stone contracted and writhed at the blade’s touch. Cathya screamed as they tightened. Aiyana stood, backing away. She couldn’t free her, at least, not that way. Perhaps sticking it in Liviana’s gut might do the job.

  ‘What did you do to her?’ Aiyana demanded of the thick shadows surrounding the chamber.

  ‘She is a traitor,’ said a disembodied voice of neither sex. ‘They all are. They do not see that we have already lost. Our Enemy devours existence piece by piece, world by world, eating away with an endless hunger, and they flounder about trying to save what cannot be saved, what does not deserve salvation.’

  ‘You sided with your enemies,’ Aiyana said, in a cold voice. ‘It is you who is a traitor, Liviana, or whatever your name is. I know you are a Fallen One. I know what you’re trying to do, and I will not allow it. Where is the Shathra Stone?’

  Laugher echoed all around her. ‘Such fools are mortals. To think, they thought you could make a difference. Look at you, your beautiful face and golden hair, that sweet voice. You who cannot even accept what you are. The undead are shadows of mortality, just as those human magi are shadows of their former masters. We never sided with the Enemy, but we did reach a truce. The Spectrum, for one small piece and it will be ours to rule for thousands of millennia. Worlds will continue to exist, a part of the Spectrum will go on, but it will be ours. At least, we are true to what we are.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Aiyana spat. ‘There was no truce. You are Fallen, and you do whatever your enemy commands. You hoped to steal a part of the Spectrum for yourself, to keep the Stone, to rule worlds, yes, but not to save them. You’re nothing more than a common thief, Andromeda.’ When an inhuman shriek rose about her, she knew she’d hit close to the mark. Goad the bitch into making a mistake, a risky and desperate ploy.

  That was when she realised Cathya wasn’t there any longer. A tormented column drew her gaze. It writhed like all the others, but something about it was different. The skeletal arms and legs imprisoned someone new.

  Her Darken.

  ‘Cath?’ she called, but there was no answer. ‘Cathya, can you hear me?’ She ran towards the column, but the woman had vanished within the stone. She beat at it with her fists, with the soul splice, weeping.

  A flash of spiralling flame resolved into Liviana. The harpy attacked, a blade of sunlight appearing in her hands.

  A man appeared in front of Liviana, and the shining sword halted in its downward path. Confusion contorted the woman’s face. The momentary distraction was all Aiyana needed to move away. As the man faded into mist, Tezcat appeared behind Liviana and poked her with a slender blade. Liviana whirled in anger, but both man and girl faded away. Some of the guards encircling the Great Hall fell to their knees, as Aiyana drew on their life forces. She felt no guilt in the act. There was no time for such feelings.

  Aiyana delved deep into her inner self, begging those souls for their aid. Some came willingly as they always had, Tezcat, Lyrin, Welts, and Beezer, but others she had to coax and some would never come, though she was as aware of those as of the others. Thousands of virals lost to the Spectrum, their souls tied to hers.

  Men, women, and children appeared, jabbing, kicking, or simply pointing and laughing, as Liviana Avitus whirled in a firestorm of rage. The harpy lashed out with her angelic blade or with stabs of fire and lightning.

  Aiyana stalked closer, the splice in her right hand. She threw those other souls at her opponent, like a shield wall that hid her among them as she advanced. She only needed one clear moment, to stab the splice home, and it would be over.

  Aiyana was within five feet of the other woman. A crowd of lost souls appearing and vanishing lay between them. Three feet now, and she raised the weapon. None of the guards remained standing, several writhing in agony, others screeching as boils or open sores covered them head to toe. A few lay dead.

  Pain struck Aiyana’s chest. Liviana had anticipated her, lulling her in. She fell to her knees as the blade cut deeper into her body. She let go of the splice, the blade clanging on blue slate. Her left arm clutched at Liviana’s shoulder. Weakness spread through her, and she found she couldn’t lift the other arm, never mind retrieve her weapon.

  ‘Enough of your tricks,’ Liviana snapped. ‘What is that you have there? Did you think you could just stab me? These humans are like little children, but you are a worm.’ With her free hand, Liviana gripped a clump of Aiyana’s hair and forced her to look up. The sea of bodies in the ceiling, she realised, had been denizens of the palace, and people who had fled there for safety.

  ‘Do you see their desiccated flesh, their cracked bones?’ whispered Andromeda through Liviana. ‘They will continue forever this way, as broken as you, but not as free. Look at my power over them. I will be mistress of this world and all others that mirror it. How else can I save something of the Spectrum? Do you think these mortals are worth more than existence itself? Humanity is not what we must save. In this, you have erred badly.’ She swept her free arm to encapsulate the scene. ‘Once, we ruled the entire Spectrum, but times change as humans like to say. All I need is your brother, and he will be here soon. I think I would like you to see that.’ She leaned closer, molten lips burning her ear. ‘I will leach his power out of him, while he screams for you, my dear. I will cut off his head, and only then will I release you.’

  Aiyana felt cold. Within her, viralic souls fought back. Their continued existence was linked to hers. When she died, they would also cease. Black mist-like filaments seeped from her pores like smoke, to converge on Liviana and the sword. Aiyana’s façade of beauty and youth, which had hidden her from notice, crumbled. Her true nature was revealed. Her skin was green-grey, fissured and cracked. Her hair was lank with bald patches, her eyes set in dark sunken hollows. She knew what she looked like, having seen it the mirror long ago, having cried over the injustice of it. She knew what Liviana saw, what she hadn’t allowed herself to see for years. She had thought herself abhorrent, diseased and beyond acceptance. She’d learned to hide that creature.

  ‘You have no idea what I am, Fallen One,’ Aiyana said in a calm voice, ‘or what I am capable of. I too am no easy meat, and nor is my brother.’

  ‘Oh, what a fighter we are?’ Liviana spat, attempting to drive the sword deeper. Those misty vines clambered across her and the blade searching for weakness. ‘Not long now, and my Nephilim will defeat him. Then I will have him tight in my fist. Even if my pet fails, do you think your brother will not do as I command if it means saving you? Those magi wasted their lives and millions of others to create your kind, and ... look at you. Look at what all those lives purchased. Pathetic. I am trying to save millions of worlds.’

  Aiyana felt the sword delve deeper. It ate at her soul, but those others within her
refused to quit. She wept, and no doubt, Liviana saw it as her weakening. In truth, it was joy. She had used those souls at times, two here, a handful there, but she had never felt as though they were a part of her, until now.

  She realised what she needed to do. She let them loose, all but two as part of her mind touched the Spectrum, searching for Threadfin. She needed to find him, to help him, anyway she could. Their battles were linked, for if one failed, so would the other.

  Those souls given free rein, her power enveloped Liviana’s shoulder and sword arm, then the sword itself. The harpy let out an anguished cry as she felt the vengeance of hundreds of viralic souls, but she refused to retreat, to withdraw the blade.

  Aiyana closed her eyes. Having found him, she smiled.

  Chapter 41

  From Ship to Shore

  CHAINS GOUGED FURROWS into Threadfin’s dead flesh. He felt them tighten, as though they reacted to his thoughts. It felt familiar. This had happened before, but this time they weren’t chains at all. Serpents coiled about him, constricting. Their fangs bit deep releasing venom. What was this new horror? How did I get here, he thought, and where is here? All he remembered was falling into nothingness, and then snakes of all things. Those barbed chains would’ve been better. He didn’t like snakes. Normal people, even undead ones, never liked snakes.

  There were voices above, grunting and heaving. Grey light gave a little illumination through gaps in a wooden ceiling. Freezing water sloshed about his feet with pieces of shattered earthenware. The floors and walls were also wooden. On racks were rows of terracotta amphorae, stacked and secured with thick rope. Added to all that was the giddiness he couldn’t shake.

  It was the hold of a merchant vessel, a large amphora carrier. Something told him it wasn’t a real ship, no more than it was a real ocean. This was an in-between place, a hole in the Spectrum. At least, he thought, I’ve managed to keep my wits, if not my freedom.