by Adam Browne
“All the way out here?”
“I’ve a stack of correspondence clogging up my in-tray. I needed to clear the most urgent matters before reaching the next stop, whereupon my orders will be wired to HQ.”
“Working to root out traitors even now,” Amael woofed mockingly. “Don’t you ever rest?”
Adal replied to Amael, but spoke to Vito, “ALPHA never rests. We can’t afford to.”
“Oh! Such diligence.”
“Is to be lauded, Balbus,” old Vito added sternly, raising a paw slightly and throwing the sarcastic Amael a sideways glare. “If our own Provosts were as assiduous as ALPHA’s Prefects in rooting out corruption, we would not need ALPHA to begin with. We may even have avoided the last war, such as it was.”
“The very reason I get out of bed in the morning, Den Father,” Adal insisted. “To suffer through one pack war is enough for a lifetime. The notion of Lupa crumbling again haunts me.” His eyes flitted over Amael, “With this shortage our fair city teeters on the edge once again. There are those who might take advantage of her weakness. We must all be on our guard.”
Whilst Amael calmly knocked back a brandy – no wet-eared tea-sipping for him – Vito nodded solemnly, “Well said, sir,” and beckoned Adal to be seated at the Elder table as his guest for the evening.
The rest of the Alpha’s entourage had to make do with an empty table near Vladimir and the other low-ranking Bloodfang flotsam, for the Elder table was strictly for the Den Father, his Elders, and, in this exceptional case, their guest Den Prefect Adal Weiss.
Horst, Duncan and Janoah took their places, but the anonymous giant of a Prefect accompanying them loomed over the Elder table, as if unwilling to leave the Alpha’s side. Spotting her comrade’s faux pas, Janoah leapt up and tugged him away to sit with her, rebuking him like some unruly toddler. Even then he kept glancing Adal’s way, as if concerned the Elders might all leap up with knives and murder the Alpha any second.
“Who is that wolf,” Vito asked Adal in a curious tone.
Adal feigned ignorance, “Which wolf, Den Father?”
Despite mumblings that his mind was going, Vito wasn’t fooled and said flatly, “The one that’s as big as a house, as well you know.” He went on, “I don’t recognise him as one of your Grand Prefects.”
“Oh, don’t mind Bruno,” Adal guffawed lightly, as a rabbit waiter prepared his tea. The very act of someone else attending to his needs made an impartialist like Adal fidgety, but he persevered and blanked the waiter’s very existence as was the Howler custom. “He’s my bodyguard,” he explained, kneading his brown paws.
“Bodyguard?” Vito crackled. “You’ve need of them, Adal?”
“As any wolf of rank.”
“Just the one bodyguard?” Amael sideswiped.
“He’s all I need. The just make enemies of the unjust; but the unjust make enemies of both,” Adal possibly quoted. “You’ll find the most corrupt wolves have to build the highest walls, Amael.”
Whilst Amael simmered, Vito observed Bruno’s continual glances across the way. “He seems keen.”
“He’s young,” Adal replied disarmingly, “but strong.”
“Bloodfang?”
“I believe he’s of Greystone stock, actually.”
“Then I’m glad it was Flaid that lost such a… magnificent wolf to ALPHA and not me.”
Adal merely chuckled.
Looking across to Bruno as if trying to gauge his imperious mettle, and doubtless being foiled by Josef’s black-imperium cloak, Vito changed subject, “And the wolfess?”
“Janoah, sir. One of our finest Prefects.”
“Janoah… Janoah….”
Vito’s adjutant was on paw to give the Den Father’s rot-ravaged mind a subtle kick. “The widow of Grand Howler Rufus, Den Father.”
“Ah… yes.”
The mere name ‘Rufus’ was all it took to silence the table for a time. There was only one Rufus in Lupa that wolves either respected or loathed, but always recognised, even now he had been fed to the ants.
Or so you all think, Amael chuckled to himself.
Ah, but die Rufus must, he decided, even as he downed his brandy and pretended to care what Vito was rambling on about now. Rufus was killed in the midst of the coup, Jan, shot in the confusion. Yes, that’s it. I’ll get Nurka’ll to take care of him for me, and then I’ll take care of Nurka and THORN before they inevitably turn on me. Janoah will never know I ordered it. They failed to protect Rufus, I’ll say. You can’t blame me for hyena incompetence. She’ll throw a tantrum, but she’ll come round.
Look at her, supping her tea and making witty conversation at her table like the best Common Ground escort money could buy. She’s wrapping that soppy Duncan around her finger, even Horst looks mollified for once. She’s so clever, so strong, so beautiful… so wasted on that arse of a wolf, Rufus.
I’ll free you from him, Janoah. You’ll be mine, you and Lupa. We’ll sweep the other packs aside and found a dynasty of Wolf Kings. The Bloodfangs will rule! No more votes, no more deals, no more packs, just a homogeneous wolfen society guided by the word of the Wolf King, the crown passed from one ruler to the next.
Stability. Certainty. Peace.
If I don’t do it Adal will, and Ulf save us all from such a world as ALPHA would impose. Look at you, you short, pen-pushing, joyless grub! You may fool Vito and the others, but you don’t fool me. Searching for the conspirators are we, Adal Weiss? There’s two in the midst of your concrete hive and you don’t even know it. Flailing around in the dark you are. No bodyguard can save you from what’s coming, however strong he is; no twist of words either, however clever they are. Your white face will turn as black as that mantle you wear as you choke on imperium waste, I’ll see to that.
You at least truly deserve it.
*
Emerging from his fluttering tent and crossing THORN’s windblown camp, Rufus stepped into the flickering glow of the nearest fire.
Nurka had furnished his wolfen guest with all he needed for the task ahead – Howler greaves, helmet and rapier. It was the most basic, unadorned gear of the lowliest anonymous Trooper, stolen during some raid, apparently, and marred by as many scratches and scuffs as Rufus’s war-hardened hide. The dazzling stripy cloak of Nurka’s tribe lent him a modicum of splendour, however.
Of the hyenas huddled roundabout, Nurka alone stood to greet Rufus.
“Red-mist,” the powerful hyena said in his hoarse tone, his face obscured by his fierce Jua-mata skull helmet, though his violet imperium-polluted eyes shone through.
“Nurka,” Rufus replied.
Wolf and hyena shared a mutual respectful nod.
Nestled upon Nurka’s left shoulder, like a fluffy shoulder pad, was a beautiful white pepper moth, its furry body and broad feathery antennae quivering in defiance of the bitter mountain climate. A small box was strapped to the bug’s broad back, rather like a rucksack.
Teasing the moth from its perch and allowing it to hang from his forearm, its elegant wings tapering down in an inverted V-shape, Nurka opened the box it carried and slipped a piece of paper inside. Locking the lid again, he launched the not insubstantial creature into the air with a gruff grunt. Amidst a puff of white scales, the bug hummed across the camp and disappeared into the night, like a winged ghost.
Nurka had obviously been in communication with his contacts, whoever they may be, via that homing moth and probably others.
“Beautiful creatures pepper moths,” Rufus observed. “Did it bring any news?”
Nurka tipped his helmeted head back, declaring confidently and with a flash off teeth, “Our Prince is alive.”
“You’re certain?”
“As can be when relying on pigs as intermediaries. We paid them, but someone might yet pay them more.”
Whatever he thought, Rufus nodded sympathetically. He looked past Nurka, glancing to Themba and especially Casimir, the latter of whom averted his gaze and nibbled some bread.
�
�We will enter Gelb by the back door,” Nurka announced.
Turning to him again Rufus blinked once, “Back door?”
“Yes,” Nurka said, habitually wandering back and forth, paws cupped behind him, tail flicking. “As you probably know, there are countless ancient tunnels and abandoned shafts running through the Sunrise Mountains. In places they still intersect with Gelb’s active mines.”
“Of course,” Rufus confirmed.
“And as an inmate of Gelb yourself, you must also have seen that the old tunnels are sealed to prevent prisoners wandering off?”
A nod from Rufus, followed by information, “Only by rusted doors and rubble. The guards didn’t worry too much about us escaping because the tunnels are a death-trap.”
“Death trap?” Themba said worriedly.
Rufus explained, “Nobody can navigate the caves by pure chance; you’d die of thirst or hunger before finding the way out, provided you didn’t fall down a pit first, or get eaten by a cave spider. That’s where they thought Professor Tack went.”
“Who’s Tack?” Nurka said.
“Oh, just a cat of… questionable sanity; a merchant of Gelb’s healthy black market. He used to be a great professor, before someone in Lupa sent him down. The Elders have a nasty habit of doing that.”
Nurka nodded and grunted.
After a moment’s pause, Rufus spread a paw, “Do you know a way through the old tunnels then, Nurka?”
The hyena cackled triumphantly, “I’ve a map, Red-mist.”
“Can it be trusted, though?” Casimir piped up from across the campfire. “It’s ancient.”
“It’s our only choice,” Nurka replied. “We’ll mark our passage through the tunnels so we won’t get lost, regardless of the map’s integrity.”
“Aye,” Casimir said, “that’s all well and good, but those tunnels are crawling with dangerous bugs. There’s no telling what we’ll bump into.”
“It’s a chance we must take.”
“For just one hyena? Nurka, you’re putting the whole operation at risk.”
“Not just a hyena, but Prince Noss of the Jua-mata!” Nurka snarled back. “I do not expect a lowly rabbit to understand why he matters, but you will respect him!”
“Gentlebeasts!” Rufus said, raising his paws for calm. “I can see you’ve been debating this for some time.”
“Hours,” big Themba said, somewhat sarcastically.
Given a pause and nod, Rufus continued, “It’s not just a question of how we do this, Nurka, but when.”
“When?”
Rufus shared his reasoning. “Once we make our move word will quickly get out. If the powers that be judge there’s sufficient danger the Summit could be cancelled and the Den Fathers disperse before… before what must be done is done.”
“Prince Noss will be extracted surgically,” Nurka said matter-of-factly. “The disappearance of one inmate will not upset anybody.”
“He’s a very important inmate.”
“Nobody knows who he is, except Amael.”
“Don’t bet on it. The Warden must know who he is as well, and I’m sure many a guard too – ones other than those in your pocket. The Warden may be sympathetic to our cause, but he’s playing a double game, waiting to see which way the wind blows before declaring his allegiance. He might want to hang onto Prince Noss for himself.”
Nurka raised his chin and said pugnaciously, “So what’re you saying?”
“I’m merely saying once we have Noss, things may be set in motion.”
Eventually, the chief nodded, “We are ready to strike, Red-mist, I merely wish Noss to be there when we do.”
Big Themba growled, “Personally, I wouldn’t bother with this cowardly ‘back door’ approach. I’d raze that vile prison to the ground in a frontal assault and bury all the guards in the mines, alive, especially this murderous Warden, who’s doubtless dutifully staked out many a hyena, and wolf, for the ants.” He looked up from the crackling fire and flashed Rufus a menacing smile of a calibre only his people could manage, what with their marvellous dentition. “That’d silence the whole lot of them for good,” he cackled.
“Until the next train arrives from Lupa to collect imperium ore and discovers Gelb in ruins,” Nurka gruffed simply, rising up on his armoured toes a moment, paws behind back, like a proper sergeant major. “You’d sacrifice our chance to change the world for a moment’s revenge, as usual, Themba. It’s that kind of myopic thinking that’s kept our people in bondage for too long. Leave the tactics to me, if you please.”
“And your pet wolf, chief?” Themba dared acidly.
Nurka didn’t reply, save to quickly shake his head at Rufus, conveying ‘ignore him’.
“Rest, all of you,” the chief instructed. “We make final preparations in the morning. Those that wish to enter the tunnels with me, make your peace with Mother Erde.” He looked witheringly between Themba and Rufus, “And especially each other.”
*
The evening had panned out as Vladimir forecast. The Alpha had arrived late, made his noble excuses, bore the butt of enquiry and ridicule from hostile wolves like Amael, before ingratiating himself with Den Father Vito and a good many of the other Bloodfang elite with witty banter and tales of wartime exploits. Den Prefect Adal was after all wearing the Imperium Heart. No wolf could take that away from him however much they despised him, no more than they could Rufus, another hero of Lupa.
“How did he win it?”
“Mm?”
Poking at his chocolate pudding dessert, Linus clarified his question. “The Imperium Heart, sir.”
“The only way you can, Mills,” Vladimir said, delicately dabbing his lips with a napkin, “an extreme act of bravery and self-sacrifice.”
Chewing on his pudding, Linus stared at his superior with those baby-blue eyes, rather like an expectant cub waiting for his father to continue the narrative. Noticing the impostor Howler Cubs Olivia and Sara (for such were their real names, and Vladimir knew it) were also staring at him, the Grand Howler had no choice but to elaborate.
“I gather that during the war,” he said quietly, folding his napkin and kneading his paws, “Adal, then a Bloodfang, killed a dozen dissident Howlers single-pawed, preventing several Den Fathers from being assassinated. This was during the early peace talks; had they been killed the war might’ve continued. Adal was horribly wounded and bed-bound for a month. He was blinded and paralysed from the ash in his blood; every breath was agony they say. Short of a cure he should’ve rotted, but… somehow he came back. Nobody knows quite how.” With a smack of the lips and a cock of the head, Vladimir added, “So, that’s what it takes to win an Imperium Heart.”
Olivia whipped out her notepad and, Vladimir supposed, started to write down Adal’s story. Cease your tiresome charade, I know exactly who you are, Vladimir thought, but did not say, for it was better for everyone at this table if the girls genuinely kept up their act, for now.
“Linus was wounded, weren’t you Linus?” Olivia alleged playfully, glancing at Sara. “He fought a great mad hog and was stuck on its tusks.”
“Uh… that was all Uther, really,” Linus excused, looking down and prodding his pudding. “I mostly got gored by the fellow and lay in a ditch.”
“I hear you killed several criminals before they took you down. It was very brave.”
“Hardly Imperium Heart material, I’m sure.”
“No hardly about it,” Vladimir scoffed haughtily. “Illegally discharging an imperium pearl, and moreover carrying a pistol on the Common Ground, rather offset any good you did. If Uther had missed he could’ve taken down the bridge and then you’d both be in Gelb, if not executed.” Looking down at the gob-smacked Linus, he woofed, “Oh don’t gawk at me like I’ve just told you I’m a wolfess, Mills, I’ve always known what really happened that night. I overheard Uther telling Ivan the whole story. Just be grateful Amael didn’t question me over the veracity of your account, I’d not have defended you, nor shall I if you’re
ever so foolish again.”
“N-nnn-no, sir.”
“Humph! As long as we’re clear.”
Olivia winked at Linus across the table, perchance indicating she disagreed with Vladimir’s stuffy assessment, and teasing a smile from the bashful Howler.
Once Linus had gathered himself enough to look up he noticed Sara sitting and staring at her uneaten dessert of honey-drizzled waffles.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Aye,” Sara heaved forcefully. “Ah’m fine. Thank you.”
She was anything but, Linus knew. He wanted to reach across and hold Sara’s paw, tell her everything was going to be all right despite the fact Heath was in hiding, Tristan was in ALPHA’s clutches and Rufus was dead.
Linus peered across the carriage, spying Janoah sitting with her fellow ALPHA Prefects. She had taken her own husband to task in the name of the Republic and now Tristan too. If she was so spiteful and uncaring she could have let me go the same way, yet here I am, purportedly because I helped Rufus, a dead beast she arrested. It doesn’t add up. None of it.
If Janoah’s with us against Amael, then perhaps there’s more Vladimir hasn’t dared tell me.
Am I not fully trusted, then?
By Ulf, why is life so complicated? Why couldn’t it be as simple as the propaganda reels made out? Hyenas are bad, Howlers are good, little beasts are happy in their place. Linus felt an idiot for not so long ago believing what the papers spewed. I was a happier beast back then, but a fool.
Ignorance really is bliss.
Suddenly Vladimir stood up, and everyone else too, Sara, Olivia, every Howler at every table, rising to their feet like in a wave of bodies. Linus felt Vladimir’s rough paw grasp the scruff of his cloak and pull him from his daydreaming, urging him to cooperate in what was, Linus realised, a mark of respect for Den Father Vito, who was leaving the carriage to retire to his quarters.
By all means, Linus had no quarrel with the idea. But, try as he might, his legs would not lift him from his chair! Their strength was gone, overcome by sudden shooting pains.
Oh no, not again!
“Linus!” Vladimir growled through the side of his muzzle as loudly as he dared.