Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “Janoah-”

  “If you fall they’ll come for me anyway. I’ll want them to come for me, because there’ll be no point continuing to live in a Lupa without a future. You’re its future. You and I and the reforms we’ll bring. If Rufus is denied his expedition thousands will continue to die. If he and others like him can at least try for a cure there is hope. You’re our only hope, Amael. That’s why I follow you.”

  “Not love, then?” he grumbled humorously.

  “Of course love. And if you love me you’ll let me in, and prove to me I’m not some pawn in your games.”

  Another unreadable grunt. After an age spent searching Janoah’s ruddy face, her green eyes, her wry smile, Amael poured a third brandy and sniffed, “It’s not pretty.”

  “Pretty?”

  “What must be done. To be honest, I didn’t tell you because I thought… I thought….”

  “What?” Janoah urged.

  Amael looked up at her. “That I might lose you, Jan.”

  “Lose me? Oh Amael-”

  “Promise me you won’t turn your back on me for what I must do. I take no pleasure in the method, but it’s the only way, the only way!”

  “Stop it, you silly beast,” Janoah tutted, kissing Amael’s forehead like that of a naïve cub. “You forget that I was in the war as well. The things I saw, the friends I lost; I’ve the stomach of a wolf, not a wolfess.”

  Amael nodded, relieved somewhat.

  Cupping his jaw in both paws Janoah implored, “Share your burden. Tell me… everything.”

  *

  Clearing his throat, Rufus gulped his drink by lantern light, thumping his furry grey chest a few times to help both it and Nurka’s news to go down.

  It was official, THORN’s plan was to kill the Den Fathers, and anyone else at the Summit, with black-imperium.

  “That was my reaction too,” Nurka said, sitting cross-legged, paws on knees, the tent canvas flapping overhead. “I wanted no part of Amael’s proposal, until I realised the method of killing doesn’t shift the guilt, it’s still killing.” The hyena glanced sideways across the tent to big Themba, who was staring always at Rufus, as if trying to penetrate his soul with those purple eyes. “They shot Themba’s family,” Nurka went on, “and tipped them into a pit. They sanction the murder of countless other hyenas every day, by sword and silent starvation. Little by little your Den Fathers are chipping away at the tribes whilst presenting a noble front to the Lupan populace with endless propaganda. When I remember what your people are doing to mine, Red-mist, my guilt subsides.”

  Rufus nodded and looked into his drink, before quaffing the lot. It was some kind of alcoholic fruit mix, a hyena delicacy apparently. The wolf didn’t much care right now, it could’ve been mono engine oil and he still would’ve knocked it back to steady his nerve.

  Wiping his ruddy muzzle he said, “As you say one death is much like another. But, must they all die? They’re not all bad. Thorvald is a good wolf and my friend. I can’t believe he knows the extent of hyena suffering-”

  “Maybe not, but do you think he’ll let bygones be bygones after we murder his fellow Den Fathers?” Nurka interjected flatly. “No, they all have to go. Amael Balbus has to be the only wolf of rank left. Whilst the other packs are flailing around voting in their new leaders and squabbling, Amael will assume power with the natural authority granted a Den Father and release the tribes.”

  Rufus put his cup down by the fire. “But he’s just an Elder, Nurka. He’s not above the hundreds of other Elders running Lupa. They’re all equal beneath the Den Fathers.”

  “Amael’s arranged to become your pack’s Den Father just before the Summit commences.”

  As well Rufus knew; Janoah had said as much, just not, “How?”

  Nurka shrugged, “That is his business. I didn’t probe. I assume it involves ‘removing’ your current leader, Den Father Vito, a notorious, how do you say it… ‘drooler’?”

  Rufus dipped his chin.

  There was a brief quiet, broken only by the odd chirp of a distant desert cricket.

  “How will you deliver the black-imperium, exactly?” Rufus risked asking.

  Nurka huffed, “You’ll see.”

  “It’s tricky stuff. Do you even know what you’re-”

  “Wolves are not the only beasts who read imperiology,” the hyena chief interjected, without a doubt insulted. He continued, more politely, “In fact I read many of your works growing up, Red-mist, you and your friend Professor Heath.”

  Rufus beamed, “I’m honoured.”

  A second prickly silence; this felt a dangerous game.

  “Strange Amael didn’t tell you any of this,” Themba needled, supping his drink but staring always at Rufus even as he tipped his head back. “It’s almost like you’ve got nothing to do with him.”

  Rufus batted him away, “As I said, Themba, I don’t. All I want from Amael is my expedition, and all he wants from me is endorsement. I’ll stand by him and wave to the little beasts for a week or two if it’ll help settle things down, but then I want to be about my work.”

  “Finding a ‘cure’?” the mighty hyena mocked. “You cannot cure that which the gods inflict on us, save through righting what they decide are wrongs.”

  “We’ll never know if we never try.”

  “Beasts have long dreamt of it. All have failed.”

  “Beasts have long dreamt of flying too, Themba, and of late we’ve discovered a way. How many beasts jumped to their doom with wings tied to their arms before we started putting working dirigibles up? Don’t confuse failure with lack of progress.”

  “Those ridiculous balloons?” Themba scoffed. “They are an affront to nature! Beasts mock the Sky, trying to match his grace.”

  Rufus spread a paw, “I find imitation to be the sincerest form of flattery-”

  “We wish you luck in your endeavours, Red-mist,” Nurka rasped, suddenly closing down the subject. Snatching the gourd of fermented fruit nearby, he topped up his cup and downed it in one. Turning to Themba he said, “It’s decided then. If Prince Noss is in Gelb we must get him out before we strike.”

  “It’s risky, chief,” Themba grumbled. “Cannot Amael do the same trick as he did with Rufus and have the Gelb Warden leave him out for the ants?”

  “Thembaaaa pay attention!” Nurka growled with mild exasperation.

  “What?”

  “Amael didn’t tell us Prince Noss is alive, yet it was his Howlers who arrested him, who supposedly ‘racked him to death’. He has lied to us. Why? Because he’s hidden our Prince away to use as a bargaining chip later, that’s why! I told you we cannot trust Amael. He doesn’t trust us. We may be working together, but only whilst it remains convenient.”

  Themba scratched his hefty brow.

  Rufus remained silent. Did Amael know Noss was alive, or was someone else playing a game? Jan, is it you? What’re you and Vladimir up to? What didn’t you tell me? Why not?

  Nurka moved on. “We will say to Amael that some of our fanatical followers snatched Prince Noss in a raid of their own initiative from rumours they had heard. Then Amael can plead ignorance and save face, as can we.”

  Themba remained pessimistic. “But what if Prince Noss is not there? Red-mist has not seen him. If we try and break him out for nothing and get killed then what good is that?”

  “I’ll find out,” Nurka rasped calmly.

  “How?”

  Nurka was likely making things up as he went along, yet his certain tone set Themba at ease like the wisdom of a considered Matriarch. “Gelb’s guards can be bought as any others,” he said. “I’ll have our agents make contact and arrange everything. If Prince Noss is really in Gelb we’ll know, and he’ll know we’re coming for him… and Madou too.”

  Themba growled, “Hahahaaa! Chakaa Madou. I can’t believe he survived being bitten. He’s a true warrior!”

  “We’ll be together again soon. All of us.”

  The hyenas bumped their heads together
in accord and drank to the future.

  Rufus sat in silence; Janoah and Silvermane were right, these stupid boys are planning to kill hundreds, even thousands, and in such an unspeakable manner. Amael and the wolfen conspirators can’t afford to share the blame, they’ll have to lay this atrocity at the door of THORN and then finish the hyena tribes off to quell the public’s fury.

  I have to get away, I have to get word out.

  You can’t, said the other half of Rufus’s brain. You can’t quit yet. Stay and play the game a while longer. Noss – he wouldn’t approve of this madness, would he? I can’t believe he would sanction Nurka’s use of black-imperium.

  By Ulf, maybe that’s it!

  If Noss is alive then perhaps, just perhaps, that’s the way out of this mess – the sacred command of a hyena prince.

  *

  Janoah entered Silvermane’s office and upon seeing Josef sitting in one of the chairs immediately performed an about face to leave.

  “Prefect Janoah!” Silvermane barked. “Walk out of here and you walk out of ALPHA.”

  “What’s that cat doing here?” she spat back.

  “I invited him, same as you. Now get in here and sit down, we’re going to settle this mess.”

  After a few seconds, Janoah slammed the office door and stood before Silvermane’s desk, arms folded. Josef remained seated and outwardly dispassionate as ever, fingers rapping together before his pink feline nose.

  Satisfied Janoah was listening if not sitting, Silvermane begun. “We cannot afford in-fighting and squabbling at this time,” he stated, adding gravely, “especially since, in light of Rufus’s passing, Rafe could be our last hope to smash THORN before they strike, and Rafe depends on you two to function at his best.”

  “Well if I’d been allowed to pursue Olivia Blake we might have two Eisenwolves by now,” Josef sniffed airily.

  “In a week?” Janoah mocked. “Don’t be ridiculous, it took Rafe a year to get to where he is.”

  “I’ve learnt a great deal since then.”

  “Oh? You’ve learned nothing of diplomacy. You can’t traipse around Lupa arresting just anybody, especially since you’re not a Prefect.”

  “You helped me!”

  “Yes, because that dodger girl was a good smokescreen behind which to arrest Tristan Eisbrand without disturbing the conspirators. If you let her slip through your paws that’s your problem, and it should’ve been the end of it. Arresting Howler Mills and going so far as to beat him up this side of the Pack Summit is beyond stupid.”

  “He’s obviously a collaborator.”

  Janoah laughed, “Oh do give it up, cat.” She looked to Silvermane and chirped disarmingly, “You know what they call him back at Riddle Den? Woodlouse. I mean, I ask you, does that sound like insurgent material?”

  Silver’s brows rose.

  “Linus aided and abetted a dodger,” Josef argued to Silvermane.

  To which Janoah countered, “He had pity on a beautiful girl, nothing more. We’re not all as immune to feelings as you, you sociopathic feline-”

  “Now that is enough,” Silvermane interposed, somehow as calm and understated as ever. “Whatever happened between you, it’s of no consequence. That girl is gone, Josef, and I want to hear no more about it, and nor does Nikita, so don’t go to him again. What I need from you both is harmony… and a plan.” The Grand Prefect looked desperately to Janoah and, paws spread, implored despite knowing what her reply must be, “Amael’s told you nothing more?”

  Janoah emitted a sharp breath and looked down, then up again. “He has only told me that the Den Fathers will be eliminated at the Summit, by the hyenas.”

  “What day, what time, with what?”

  “Black-imperium, but he refuses to tell me how exactly. He says he’s protecting me in case he falls. The less I know, the more likely it is I could plausibly say I was just his lover and deny knowledge of the plot.”

  Josef mocked, “How ‘noble’ Amael is.”

  “Yes,” Janoah agreed, “in his own way, he is.”

  “Perhaps he suspects you,” Silvermane wondered aloud.

  “No.”

  “How can you be so sure, Janoah?”

  Janoah paused to think, as if skirting round some real reason to give a false one. “I just know.”

  Whatever he thought, Silvermane let it lie. “Well keep trying. If Tristan can’t or won’t talk then we’re going into this trap blindfolded! The Alpha will be in mortal danger, and every Den Father too.”

  “Rafe will not let the Alpha come to harm,” Janoah reassured. “He’ll be near the whole time.”

  “He can’t traipse around in his suit, Janoah!”

  “No, sir, but it will be kept nearby.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll find a way to hide it. When the attack comes, however it comes, Rafe will be ready.”

  *

  Sitting in the ALPHA HQ’s boxed-in garden and blowing ember vapours at the midnight Lupan sky, Janoah felt both her imperious corona and the bench upon which she sat bend under a familiarly hefty presence.

  “All right, Jan?” Rafe said, sitting casually beside her, muscled arms splayed over the back of the bench.

  Janoah let slip a fond smirk, disguising it with a dip of the chin, “Hello trouble.”

  Following Janoah’s previous upward gaze, Rafe took in the stars pricking the usually foggy heavens. “Cor, it’s really clear tonight, ‘en it?”

  “Yes,” Janoah replied absently, humouring her champion by looking up again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lupa so clear.”

  A few seconds passed, as many as ten.

  “I… heard about Rufus,” Rafe volunteered, “I’m sorry.”

  Janoah considered telling her Eisenwolf the truth, that Rufus was alive and in hyena custody.

  “Well,” she said instead, “we all knew it was coming.”

  “Not like that though.”

  Janoah chuckled wryly, “On the contrary, it’s just like Rufus to go out in style. Withering away in Gelb didn’t suit him. He’s always wanted to see the inside of an ant nest anyway.”

  Rafe could but grimace.

  “How’s the bee?” Janoah said.

  Perhaps she’s eager to keep her mind off Rufus, Rafe thought, obliging her. “Fine,” he beamed. “Meryl’s set up a spare room for him next to mine.”

  “Her.”

  “Yeah. I meant her. She’s got a little box to sleep in and everything, but she kinda just climbed up the wall and stayed there. She’s so funny.”

  Janoah tutted, “I’m not sure the Grand Prefects will find it so funny.” Sniffing, she looked sideways at a suddenly worried Rafe, “But… I’ll have Josef say Toggle is part of your therapy, to keep you sane. That usually washes with the Alpha, and he’s all that matters.”

  Rafe nodded gratefully.

  “You’ve not let me down yet,” Janoah said sternly. “Don’t start now when Lupa needs you most.”

  “I won’t,” Rafe claimed breezily.

  “Look after yourself. Do what Meryl tells you. You need to be strong. If we can’t stop THORN before they strike we must stop them as they strike; whatever happens the Alpha must survive and the conspirators must be taken into custody.”

  “I’ll protect him... and you.”

  A nod from Janoah, before she looked away and took a sharp breath.

  Another break, longer perhaps; Janoah wasn’t gauging the passing of time, only the mood of the wolf beside her and how best to approach him. He was just a boy, a foolish boy, and yet he had the power to sway history.

  “Rafe,” Janoah sniffed, looking at the ember she was twiddling between her ash-stained fingers.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ll stick with me, won’t you? You won’t abandon me for Josef or Silvermane, or anyone.”

  Rafe frowned, “Whatcha mean?”

  “I mean you’d follow my orders, not theirs. Not even the Alpha’s if it came down to it.”

  “Jan-”r />
  “Promise me! And I mean whatever happens, however awful it seemed at the time, whatever side I picked in the end, you’d back me up.”

  “I promise. Of course I do. I don’t owe them lot anything, only you… and Meryl.”

  “You’d listen to me, or Meryl?”

  “Meryl’s not a soldier,” Rafe said, dodging the question; he was cleverer than he looked sometimes. “What’s wrong; you in trouble?” he asked afresh.

  Taking a last draught of her dying ember, Janoah said, “I’m on a tightrope, Stenton; I might make it all the way across, or I might fall one way or the other – don’t you let me hit the ground.”

  ~Blick viii~

  A stroll through HQ’s concrete ‘gardens’ wasn’t as pleasant as the seaside, but it would have to do.

  “This place needs some greenery,” Meryl declared, casting her eye over the stark, brutal facade of ALPHA’s central quadrangle.

  “Greenery?” Rafe scoffed, looking up at the equally brutal sky. It had been raining on and off, a really miserable Lupan day. “We’re right under the Ashfall, ‘en we?”

  “Some things will still grow, especially if we water them with clean water; it washes the leaves off. Nothing we can eat mind, not unless you want a rotten tummy. Lavender’s tough, I might ask if we can stretch to buying some.”

  “Lavender?”

  “Yes. It was growing at my aunt’s. The silvery bush in the rockery?”

  “Oh!” Rafe said, his face grimacing. “Yeah.”

  Meryl supposed he didn’t remember, or as likely didn’t even notice in the first place.

  Suddenly the Eisenwolf stopped walking.

  “Rafe?” Meryl queried worriedly.

  He waved a dismissive paw and continued, but took no more than a few steps before hopping to a halt and grasping at his left leg. Rafe was silent, but Meryl could see the excruciating pain on his face.

  “I’ll get a sting,” she said, already turning to run.

  “They’re… all gone!” Rafe seethed, leaning on a low wall. “I used ‘em all up.”

  “What?” Meryl piped. “You can’t have! There were three on your ration book when we went to New Tharona.”

  “Ssssorry, Meryl. I needed ‘em. Heh!”