2 Friends & Enemies

THE TALL OAKEN doors of the palace reception room opened inward to admit the imperial marshal. Aiyana watched the woman march with a graceful sway and an easy smile. Scatter always smiled. Nothing appeared to faze the Hatavan.

‘There are four conclavists awaiting you,’ announced the new marshal, fiddling with her uniform. The forest-green cloak brushed the red patterned carpet. The former Aidari leader had claimed she didn’t need a uniform, but Aiyana had insisted. With the ornate leather armour bearing the white wings of Todralan, the dark-skinned woman reminded her a little of Canaan Pen Luthus, the former high exemplar.

‘How is the recruitment coming along?’ Aiyana asked.

The imperial marshal showed no sign of displeasure at the question. Aiyana had asked her the same every day for a month. ‘I now have the necessary troops to secure the capital. I’ve sent what I can to several cities. However, Byrsa is a lost cause. My scouts have returned and all report the same. I would need several legions to sweep through there. Months of hard street-to-street fighting. There are reports of surviving redcloaks having taken up residence in Byrsa. It’s said they are plotting against you.’

Aiyana sighed. ‘I don’t doubt it. The Exemplar Guard may be gone, but their fanaticism will endure for years. It is impossible to destroy hate. All we can do is stand against it.’

‘Your family once called us Aidari fanatics too,’ noted Scatter. ‘It is easy to label people. Do not underestimate them, my lady.’

Aiyana eyed her. ‘You are still a fanatic. It is all a matter of perspective, and I assure you, mine is quite clear.’ She waved at the marshal to admit the conclavists. Oh, Cathya, she thought, remembering her Darken and friend, how I wish you were with me.

Scatter had been busy locating the politicians, most of whom had fled during Liviana’s coup. They had dispersed themselves throughout the imperium, some leaving its borders. She would not force them to attend her and had instead urged the marshal to convince them. Few had responded to her request.

Polius Augustus and Lucius Aidarius entered first. Both looked haggard with Polius’ thin frame scrawnier than she remembered. Amazing the man remained upright at all. Old friends and adversaries for decades, those two were now the eldest of the conclave with Cicero having passed away. Lucius walked bent over with the aid of a stick, his long nose giving him the appearance of an old crone.

Behind them came Markus Cipius followed by his sister, Rylana. Markus, a former legionary officer, carried new scars on his face, but his square jaw and broad shoulders said he was as strong as always. No doubt, whoever gave him the scars hadn’t lived long to gloat.

Rylana glared at her former friend. She had not taken the news of Aiyana’s true nature well. It saddened Aiyana, for they had been close once. I’m surprised the woman came at all, she thought. Likely, if not for Markus, she wouldn’t have, which made her wonder if the man might be an ally.

Aiyana remained as she was with the marble fireplace to her right, close enough to feel warmth, the arrangement of cushioned seats before her. She was not imperatrix and didn’t want to appear as presumptuous as Liviana had. Therefore, guards were at a minimum, though she didn’t have many, and her seat was ordinary if gilded. She was after all her father’s daughter and a princess. They needed reminding of that too. Again, it was all about balance. She wondered then why she felt as though she was about to topple into an abyss.

‘Please,’ she said with a broad smile, arms spread, ‘be seated, all of you. Would anyone like some refreshments?’

Three cloaked mongrels, and one serving man in a green knee-length tunic, appeared from behind the columns carrying silver pitchers, trays filled with clay bowls of berries, fruits, and shellfish. Polius accepted wine but declined food. Lucius did the opposite. Markus helped himself to both, while Rylana refused everything with an impatient wave of her hand. In those few seconds, Aiyana learned where she stood with each.

‘Firstly,’ she said, knowing she needed to put them at ease, ‘I wish to apologise for having had you all brought here in haste. Under present circumstances, my leaving the palace would be unwise. There are many who would take the opportunity to seize Icarthya, or to assassinate me.

‘I understand you each have reservations and recent events have made things difficult. It is important we discuss the situation. For the good of the people and the imperium.’

‘Difficult?’ spat Polius, waving a thin arm at her, which just happened to hold his goblet. He splashed wine across the crimson carpet. Aiyana did not believe the act for a moment. Markus Olen had warned his daughter about each conclavist. Polius did nothing without meaning or intention.

‘My father, Cicero, you remember him?’ Polius continued. ‘He’s dead because of Avitus and her coup. Her Spectrum-forsaken, Grim-hooded soldiers murdered my entire family. “Difficult,” she says?’

‘Oh, the all-gracious Seraphim above give me patience, please,’ snapped Lucius. ‘Your father died of old age, and you know it well. He was a hundred and six years old.’

‘The fact he was old when one of those accursed exemplars put a knife in his eye, is hardly noteworthy.’

‘As for the rest of your miserable blood,’ Lucius continued, ‘you don’t know where they are, and don’t say you do. You don’t. You haven’t seen any of them in years, and “difficult,” perfectly describes events since Liviana’s abdication. Difficult bordering on catastrophic.’

Polius’ face reddened and he puffed himself up or tried to since such a feat was physically impossible. Those two would debate whether the sun rose in the morning and set in the evening, both making valid, reasonable arguments.

‘Well, as to Liviana Avitus,’ said Aiyana, over the rim of her goblet, eyeing each of them, ‘she didn’t abdicate. The throne was never hers to give up. A rumour I allowed although I didn’t begin it. I had no desire to disturb the populace with unnecessary pain and worry. Above that already caused, of course. Many have lost so much it seemed pointless to set the record straight. Few plebeians would even care.’

‘Then,’ asked Markus, twirling his empty goblet as though examining the workmanship, and perhaps he was, ‘what did happen?’

‘I left her in a pool of her own blood. Then the palace in Byrsa fell on her.’

Markus nodded. Polius spluttered and almost choked. Lucius gaped, while Rylana gave her head an angry toss. Always over dramatic when angry was Rylana.

‘However, none of you have all the facts,’ said Aiyana. ‘You cannot appreciate how terrible a woman she was, or what forces she dabbled in.’ She couldn’t tell them everything. Not of how a harpy named Andromeda had possessed Liviana for example, or about the Shathra Stone. Sometimes, the truth was too unbelievable.

‘I was not alone in the act. High Exemplar Canaan Pen Luthus died trying to stop her. If not for him I would have failed, and you would be facing her right now. A much more terrible and powerful Liviana too.’ She had yet to reconcile Canaan’s actions with what she knew of the man. Why did he help in the end? She might never know. She was grateful to him although she believed he had not done it for her.

‘You lie,’ Rylana spat. ‘He served her. We all know it. He was responsible for much of the death after the coup. If he helped you murder her then you were in league with him. You give us another reason not to trust you.’

‘Don’t,’ said Markus touching his sister’s hand. ‘I have known this woman all her life. Yes, she has her secrets, but she has never lied outright. We all have secrets, sister. If she says that’s what happened, I believe her.’

Rylana rounded on him. ‘You cannot be serious?’

‘I also knew Pen Luthus. What she has told us has the ring of truth. Honour, justice, those meant everything to the man. He would not have seen any of his previous actions as crimes, not when Liviana had her claws in him, but in the end, I think he saw her for what she was.’

‘Brother, you know what this woman is.’ Rylana stabbed a finger in Aiyana’s direction.

‘Do you?’ asked Aiyana. ‘Do you know what I am, Ryl?’

‘You don’t get to call me that anymore.’

‘Well, is this what you mean?’ Aiyana allowed them to see her true face as she had done with the envoy, for a few seconds relinquishing the façade. Polius did choke this time and had to be aided by Lucius with several slaps to his back, which knocked him onto the floor. Markus grimaced, turning away, while his sister pointed again, and shouted, ‘There, do you see? She condemns herself!’

‘Yes, Rylana, I am a viral. I am also not the first of the undead to sit the imperial throne.’ They stared at her in collective disbelief as they visibly struggled with the obvious question. ‘Oh, you didn’t know? My grandfather was also undead, born of the plagues as was I and my brother. Liviana knew about us, but not about Olen Quintus.

‘You have all been deceived by a false history, one designed to garner hate for virals.’ Without interruption, apart from some choking from Polius who had resumed his seat, Aiyana related to them the true history of the undead. Scatter had told her everything, filling in whatever she had not already known.

She told them how Nalrost had created the plagues to counter a Darkness devouring the Spectrum. She told them how this world had others mirroring it, and how Nalrost had hoped to save a small part of existence by saving this world and those others. She told them of a viral imperium protecting humanity.

‘It is my intention,’ she finished, ‘to create a new imperium, which will safeguard this world. I will need the help of you four to begin. I intend to treat with all kingdoms and nations. To unite all against the Darkness.’

Silence greeted her. Polius opened his mouth and shut it again. Lucius picked at one large nostril as though he hadn’t heard a word. Markus frowned, but it was Rylana who broke the silence.

‘How dare you?’ Her face was red with rage. She spat the words out, leaning forwards in her seat. ‘I loved you like a sister. I worshiped you and swore I would serve you until I died. This is how you repay me, with filthy lies? Do you take us for imbeciles? Do you think you can rewrite history and we’ll just go along with it?’

The words hit Aiyana like slaps to the face. She wanted to howl in frustration, but fought to maintain calm.

Markus attempted to soothe his sister, but Rylana stood, smoothing her skirts angrily. ‘I know what you are. The exemplars may be finished but I will find those who see what I do. They will not tolerate one of your kind ruling us. You cannot have my support. I came for confirmation and I have it.’ She turned, batting away her brother’s hand and stormed out of the room.

Aiyana fought the urge to go after her. The woman’s rebuke stung like needles piercing her soul. She had lost a friend and gained an enemy. All in a single moment. This wasn’t going as she had planned, but then in truth, she had lost Rylana before today.

Focus on what you can control, she thought, on what you can do. Holding her head up, not willing to give into self-pity, she eyed the remaining three. Markus was looking over his shoulder at the doors, no doubt feeling torn. Her hopes sank further.

‘Each of you,’ she said in a calm voice, though inside turmoil reigned, ‘can leave and never look upon me again. I will not force anyone to support my claim. I will warn you, however, if I am not imperatrix, the imperium will remain leaderless. There is no conclave. Chaos will ensue. It already has a foothold in Byrsa and it will spread.’

Polius swallowed, glancing at Lucius. ‘By chaos, you mean civil war, don’t you? May as well speak it plain. Rivals for the throne who never stood a chance before will raise armies. It will be another bloodbath. The people cannot take it. There are already lootings and riots, mobs hauling out former Avitus supporters and executing them. Primes popping up everywhere like pimples. It will get worse.’

‘Then, you old fool,’ Lucius snapped, ‘state your position. For Todralan or against?’

‘We are not in conclave.’

‘Does it matter?’

The skinny oldster swallowed another lump in his throat, staring at Aiyana as though waiting for her to transform again. She wouldn’t, having just wanted to be honest about who and what she was. They needed to understand what they were getting into and she needed to know those who supported her wouldn’t switch sides later.

‘For,’ he whispered.

Lucius nodded, and then offered her a steadier gaze. ‘Olen Quintus was really a viral? I mean, he hid his ... identity as you do?’

‘Now who is dithering?’ Polius demanded, as though worried he’d been tricked.

Lucius waved a hand at him, bidding him to silence as he waited for an answer.

‘My grandfather was undead, yes,’ she answered. ‘I did not know of it either, until a few months ago. No one did, I imagine, except perhaps for the Darken who betrayed him. None of us asked for this. It is who we are.’

Lucius nodded. ‘I loved that man and would have died for him ten times over.’ He paused. ‘For.’

Aiyana felt a thrill, for she had not envisaged those two both siding with her since they never agreed on anything.

Markus’ face was grave. ‘I’ve served your family my entire life, as all my forebears have done. I’ve bled for two imperators, one who was undead it seems. I’ve served in politics, bleeding in other ways. I am sorry, Aiyana, but I must put what remains of my family first. You ask too much.’ She nodded, knowing he had lost everyone save his sister. ‘Against,’ he said while rising, glancing at her one last time with genuine sadness.

He turned and followed in Rylana’s wake.

Aiyana also stood, and the remaining two conclavists rose with her. ‘I am grateful to you both, but I am afraid two does not a conclave make.’ She had hoped to start with four and build on it until she had enough for a vote. She needed the support of at least ten families. If they could find ten still living. Liviana had been thorough.

‘Markus will change his mind,’ said Lucius with a smile, which was well meaning yet short of reassuring. ‘We will petition the survivors. We will rebuild the conclave and avert civil war. You’ll see.’

Both left and Aiyana sat again, feeling lost.

Poor Lucius, she thought. He hasn’t a clue. Civil war has just been declared right in this room. Rylana would raise an army, and her brother Markus, who was a seasoned veteran, would lead it. They would find willing recruits and if they didn’t, the Calamari and other southern kingdoms would offer them. The undead were forever the enemy of the living, and yet their one hope.

Before I’ve begun, I’ve failed.

Slumped in her chair, she shut her eyes and despaired. She wondered, not for the first time, if it should not be Threadfin on the throne. The Spectrum above knew, she wasn’t suited for this. She’d learned that much these past months. Ruling was easy when everything was going well.

Her eyes snapped open.

It is too late, wailed the voices in unison. Too late, too late, oh why did you not listen? It comes!

What are you talking about? she responded in her mind. I know time is short, but I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.

A single voice among the many then broke through. She knew it well, and smiled at the comfort she felt at hearing it. Her smile didn’t last. Yana, said the voice of her grandfather, you have left it too late. Our end is here. My dear Yana ... run!

It was then the palace shook with the force of an explosion as fire and death ripped through Icarthya. But that wasn’t why the voices told her to run.

She felt it, then. A presence.

Something had arrived at the palace and it hunted for Aiyana Todralan.