Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “Sir, I….”

  “Stand for our Den Father!”

  Somehow, between Vladimir’s tug and his own push, Linus overcame what he knew to be an ill-timed attack and stood smartly to attention.

  The magnificent-looking Den Father Vito and his entourage filed down the carpeted channel running between the tables, passing inches from Vladimir and Olivia, who respectfully kept their gaze forward. Even without training Olivia seemed to carry herself like a natural Howler.

  Perhaps, yet Den Father Vito stopped at Vladimir’s table and turned to face the four wolves standing there. He stared for an age, his imperious eyes burning into the side of Vladimir’s skull, then Olivia’s and Sara’s.

  Had he spotted something amiss?

  Stepping backwards to the whispers and murmurings of on-looking wolves, Vito looked at Linus.

  “Ah, so that’s where the storm rages,” he said cryptically, tipping his head back a little. “You bear the pain with great fortitude, young wolf. What’s your name?”

  Mentally twisting in the chains of torment, Linus had to be elbowed into a response by Vladimir.

  “Trooper Linus Mills… Den Father,” he seethed, standing firm. “F-fff-forgive my rudeness, sir.”

  Vito waved a paw in dismissal. “We’ve none of us control of the rot, Howler. It strikes us down when it pleases, even over dinner,” he chuckled. “Sit down and let it pass; I’ll take no offence.”

  Clapping a paw on the table to shore himself up, Linus grunted, “Thank you, sir. But I’ll s-sss-stand if I may. It won’t beat me.”

  Vito nodded. Wolves whispered roundabout.

  Whilst Sara looked worriedly on, Linus slowly straightened up opposite her and stood firm again. She couldn’t sense the imperious rages within him, for she wasn’t afflicted, but she could read the pain etched on his furrowed brow well enough. Linus’s features softened as the attack seemed to pass, which gladdened Sara more than she considered normal.

  Vito whispered something to his ever-present adjutant, then flicking a friendly paw at Linus suggested, if not altogether ordered, “You’ll take the waters with me in Everdor.”

  “Waters, sir?”

  “The hot springs, Howler Mills,” Vito explained. “It’ll do those bones a world of good.”

  “Uh, ah, well….”

  “I go for a dip every year. What do you say?”

  “I-I-I would love to, but-”

  “He’d be delighted, Den Father,” Vladimir answered, bowing a little and not making eye-contact. “Please forgive Mills, he’s a city boy; hardly seen a blade of grass in his life, let alone a hot spring! I’m sure the rot has momentarily confused him too.”

  “Yes of course,” Vito acknowledged.

  With a raise of the paw like some old king, Vito took his leave, ambling down the carriage and out of sight – whereupon Linus collapsed like a sack of potatoes, nearly pulling the tablecloth and everything with it as he fell about the carriage.

  “Gagh!”

  “Och, Linus!” Sara yelped, reaching for him.

  Vladimir quickly supported the stricken youth and helped him to sit in his chair. “I thought it’d passed,” he said, pouring Linus a stiff drink.

  “So had I,” Linus panted. Noticing Sara’s concerned gaze he said, “I’ll be all right… in a minute.”

  “Do you have any stings?” she asked.

  “In my cabin.”

  “Ah’ll go get them-”

  “No… I’ll go back myself in a minute.”

  “Linus-”

  “I won’t sting myself in front of everyone, Sara! It’s… not the done thing.”

  Olivia said, “He’s right. It’s not.”

  Baffled and annoyed, Sara looked at Olivia, who urged her to sit back down.

  “Don’t worry, Linus,” Vladimir huffed. “With any luck Vito will have forgotten all about you by tomorrow. I’m sure his adjutant is in no hurry to remind him. Just try and keep a low profile, for Ulf’s sake.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 38

  Morning’s light barely warmed the Sunrise Mountains, but the mouth of the cave to which Nurka had brought Rufus expelled a noticeably steamy breath. This bode well in the Howler’s opinion – if this cave was connected to the same system as Gelb it ought to be of a similar temperature.

  “I thought the caves would be cold,” Nurka said, sniffing the air.

  “Some are,” Red-mist replied, watching the moist air from the cave condense into a rising cloud, “but Gelb’s on top of a plume; the walls drip with water that’s full of dissolved imperium. I’ve seen beasts reduced to licking the walls in there just to try and get a little more good stuff.”

  “Pathetic, is it not?” Nurka rasped. “All our troubles stem from such places. If we didn’t steal Mother Erde’s blood we would not get the rot. It’s her curse upon us for our greed.”

  Rufus shrugged, “Imperium’s been bubbling up on the surface since the dawn of time. White rises up, releases its energy and decays into black, which sinks back down into the core of the planet. Who can blame our ancestors for being attracted to a shining imperium crystal, or wanting to tap into its power? It was either that or live in a straw hut forever, and now we are where we are and our civilisation depends upon imperium… rot and all.”

  Expecting resistance, or some debate, Rufus provoked only a noncommittal grunt from Chief Nurka.

  Chief of what, Rufus still wondered, chief of THORN or just this offshoot? Is Nurka the mastermind of it all? Could I kill him here and now and end Amael’s ambitions?

  Even if I could there’s a better way, Ulf help me. The word of a Hyena Prince can stop this madness and save further bloodshed on all sides.

  Noss, please be alive, and be your old self.

  Even as he hoped and prayed Rufus unconsciously felt his left arm, his fingers tracing the scars torn in his muscled hide by Noss’s cruel yellow-imperium bomb not so long ago. The word of a Hyena Prince could stop this, but the question was would it be given?

  Out of nowhere and with barely a flutter, that beautiful pepper moth from last night dropped out of the sky and perched on Nurka’s shoulder.

  The hyena took the quivering moth down and opened the little casket it carried.

  He read the message within, his violet eyes tracing back and forth as Rufus watched.

  “Everything’s in place,” Nurka said, destroying the message with a flash of imperious plasma from his black fingers before Rufus was able to glimpse its contents. “There’s nothing else to do but go.”

  Upon Nurka’s word things moved quickly. Themba, the other hyenas and Casimir all gathered at the cave mouth, a dozen souls in all including Rufus. Imperium lanterns and rations were distributed, whilst Nurka unfurled his map on a rock and inspected, for the umpteenth time, the maze of passages and caverns crudely scrawled out in plan form. The map had been stolen from Lupa’s vast records, apparently, and sent by moth to the hyenas by some hog, somewhere.

  Even if the document was genuine it made no mention of the cave spiders and cave centipedes that Rufus as a naturalist knew frequented such warm, dark, dank places as Gelb. Bugs were not obliged to stay in one place for very long and couldn’t be pinned down on a sheet of paper.

  Anticipating trouble, Themba hefted his hammer whilst Nurka shouldered his marvellous imperium bow, keeping both a lantern and his map to paw. Casimir cocked a trusty pistol and the other hyenas sharpened their imperium-tipped spears.

  Rufus felt the weight of his basic rapier – it was no masterpiece, but it’d channel plasma well enough.

  Releasing his messenger moth to the sky with a final note for his allies, and with a last glance at the muted mountain sun, Nurka delved into the hot, reeking cave ahead of his brave followers, lantern held forth.

  “Mother Erde, forgive us our trespass,” he prayed.

  *

  When Linus awoke he noticed a distinct change had come over the tiny yet luxurious cabin he’d occupied of late. Ther
e came no motion, no sound; the ornate crystal bedside lamp no longer quivered and tinkled to the rails clacking rhythmically beneath.

  The Elder Train had stopped!

  Casting aside his sheets like an overgrown cub on Wintertide morn, Linus knelt on the bed in his appropriately Bloodfang-red under-breeches, his golden tail slapping audibly side to side with excitement. Whipping the tiny velvet curtains aside he peered out at bright wide world beyond the narrow carriage window.

  Fields, bushes, trees, a clear blue sky; Linus’s hungry eyes lapped up the lot. The concrete paths and tarmac roads of Lupa’s unforgiving streets had been replaced almost overnight by lush grass and soft erde, whilst the regimental brick walls of terrace houses had given way to the soft leafy borders of tangled copses and clumps of trees. Even the towering smokestacks of imperium refineries were no more, marked instead by the odd outlying redwood tree pumping out nothing more harmful than fresh air. It was as if Linus had shut the curtains on a theatre production yesterday and little beasts had changed the set whilst he slept.

  This must be Everdor, and it’s just like the pictures, except in glorious colour.

  If only Uther were here.

  Oh but he is, cooed the other side of Linus’s brain, causing his stout heart to skip a beat. He’s here with Ivan plotting the death of Den Father Vito at Amael’s command. That is if Vladimir’s correct, or even to be believed.

  Linus couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, except that he could be sure of nothing.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  Pulling himself from the beauty beyond the window, Linus sprung from his bed and rifled through his clothes for a tunic.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  “Just a minute.”

  “Howler Linus?” someone crackled – not Amael, not Vladimir, not anyone Linus easily recognised either.

  “Yes. Who is it?”

  “I shan’t come in; you’re clearly in bed still. I’m Den Father Vito’s adjutant. Our leader requests your presence at the hot springs. Attend at once. Don’t worry about bathing, that’s what the springs are for.”

  “Uh, ah, r-rrr-right you are, sir. I’ll be right there.”

  “Very well.”

  “Where are the springs, sir?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll escort you personally.”

  *

  Fwoooosh!

  Across the way from the resting Elder Train, which had stopped in a siding in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable bare field, lay an opaque-looking lake. Projecting from the lake’s cloudy waters like an island volcano was a squat cone of smooth rock, from which spurted a great fountain of white water.

  “A geyser,” Linus marvelled to himself, stepping from carriage to ground.

  The scalding jet blasted some fifty feet into the air for a good minute, its spray and foam glinting like crystals in a sunbeam, before gurgling back into the erde. On closer inspection Linus noticed the geyser’s rocky cone shimmered with colour, reds, greens, blues and more. It was doubtless made of solid imperium minerals that had precipitated out of the water. Linus supposed the whole lake must be laden with imperium, which is why some afflicted beasts believed bathing here helped ease the rot. Now, whether immersing oneself in what amounted to poison did more harm than good was open to debate, but Linus had no choice in the matter. Den Father Vito had invited him along as his guest and that was not a thing to be refused lightly, if at all.

  Searching amongst his fellow Howlers for Vito or his adjutant, Linus convinced himself that taking an imperium bath couldn’t be any worse than taking an imperium sting.

  As it happened, Vito’s smartly-cloaked adjutant found Linus. “This way, Howler,” he beckoned tiresomely, coming up behind a bewildered Linus and gesturing for him to follow with a flick of the paw.

  Observed by the jealous eyes of other Howlers and especially Elders, the singled-out Linus stuck to Vito’s adjutant like glue in a vain attempt to feel protected as he weaved his way along the train and then across the open field.

  “Just a few ground rules… Linus, was it?” the fellow said, stopping suddenly, paws cupped before him.

  Linus was taken aback, “Uhm rules, sir?”

  “You are Den Father Vito’s guest, but you will observe his personal space.”

  “Personal space?”

  “Do not get too close and do not lay your paws upon him at any time. The Den Guard will not hesitate to act if you provoke them.”

  “I see.”

  “For your sake, you’d better,” the adjutant sniffed. “And for Ulf’s sake, boy, don’t fill his head with ideas or ask impossible favours. Vito grows frailer each passing year and his mind is not what it was. I am the one who has to deal with his fanciful notions, not him. Give me a headache and I’ll make your life difficult. Understand me?”

  With a gulp and many nods, Linus replied, “I-I-I wouldn’t dream of asking for anything, sir. The thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “Good!” the adjutant woofed sharply. “See that it doesn’t and we’ll part ways amicably.”

  With a flick of the wrist he led on, skirting along the lapping shore of the lake towards a nearby wood. Following a well-beaten path and some rotting signposts through the gnarled trees, Linus and his guide happened across a collection of small, steaming rock pools, their smooth, toroidal rims resembling nothing so much as flaccid doughnuts coated with imperium frosting left melting in the sun. It appeared this was the place to bathe, not the open lake back there. Linus imagined it was at least somewhat private as he took in the concealed copse.

  Beyond the sweltering pools stood an arc of ancient-looking log cabins, each no bigger than was necessary to change in. Moss clung to their roofs in desperate clumps, like swarms of green bees.

  The door to the middle cabin was barred by two fierce-looking Den Guards. Vito must be in there, Linus surmised, just before the door creaked open and revealed the Bloodfang’s Den Father in nought but a red towel. His magnificent Howler gear had been stripped away, revealing the battered, scarred body of a wolf long past his prime. Still, Vito was no withered husk, not yet, and his impressive corona reached clean across the pools to touch Linus, who bowed on one knee.

  “Ah, Howler Linus,” Vito greeted, striding around the pools with his two guards in tow – more guards lingered in the trees, Linus noticed out the corner of his eyes. “Up you get, young wolf, I don’t want to be looking at your ears all morning.”

  Linus stood up nervously, wondering with every adrenaline-laden breath whether to tell Vito what he knew, that Amael was out to murder him and take over Lupa. But, as Vladimir had warned, even if Amael fell the rest of the conspirators wouldn’t. They would survive and, whilst plotting afresh, make Amael’s accusers disappear.

  Thus Linus stayed silent. He felt like a coward, but he didn’t want to be thrown into the Lupa with cement shoes by Amael or his conspiring allies.

  Leave it to Vladimir and Janoah; they know what they’re doing. Right?

  “How goes the affliction with you today?”

  Vito’s question brought Linus back from his mental meanderings.

  “Well, Den Father,” he managed to chirp.

  “Ah but you’re still very young, very… strong,” Vito mused, running his glowing eyes over the golden Linus. “It’ll ravage even your fine young body one day, as it does every one of us, even me, long though I’ve lasted.” After a few seconds the aged Vito snapped from some momentary stupor and cast a withered paw to the pools, “These imperium springs will stave rot off a little longer, for the both of us... or beasts say.”

  “So I’ve read, sir.”

  Vito raised a finger and boasted, “Not just anyone can come here, you realise, only those granted permission by the state, by me and the other Den Fathers. The waters and woods are guarded all year round by Hummel wolves, and have been for hundreds of years. This is a rare privilege.”

  Linus could but bow again, paw to chest, “Then I’m truly honoured, sir.”

  Vit
o chuckled and glanced at his adjutant. “He has a way with words this one.”

  The adjutant smiled meekly.

  “Well then,” Vito declared, walking by Linus and flicking a paw behind him, “to a cabin with you, Howler. You’ll find all you need inside, hot towels and whatnot, but don’t take too long; we mustn’t hog the healing waters all day. Others will want their turn.”

  “Yes, sir,” Linus replied, following Vito’s adjutant to the nearest cabin and repressing with every step the bad feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach.

  *

  Teams Scarab and Mosquito, led by Madou and Noss respectively, filed into the mines behind their trundling carts along with the rest of Gelb’s reluctant inmates.

  “What’re you grinning at, hyena?” one of the guard hogs blustered at the passing prince.

  “At the prospect of yet another day raping Mother Erde for the glorious Republic, of course!” Noss cackled, removing his big paws from the cart long enough to bow a little. “What could be better than such an honour?”

  “Huh,” the hog replied, scratching his brow before flicking a pink limb into the mines. “Well, get a move on!”

  “With great celerity, sir!”

  It was outrageous enough that a prince of hyenas should be reduced to this servitude, let alone bowing to some bloated hog, but Madou contained his rages by convincing himself Noss was mocking the fellow. Then again, he wasn’t all there at the best of times; perhaps this morning the prince was on a delirious high?

  Noss’s light mood persisted as he led Madou, Zozizou, Tomek and Helmut, and the others in each team, through the main mine entrance to the spaghetti junction of rails that sinuously slithered into dozens of smaller caves. Which shaft would Noss choose to mine today? It was always him that chose, not just because his imperious instincts were the keenest in Gelb now that Rufus was gone, but because Prince Noss simply exuded natural confidence, and therefore leadership.

  Scarab and Mosquito queued at the diverging rail junctions whilst the teams ahead of them picked a shaft for the day. When it was his turn, Noss gestured at the hogs stationed in the switch tower ahead. He signalled right, to switch to the right track, not just once but three times in a row. Despite obvious misgivings, the hogs pulled the appropriate levers, forcing Noss’s cart down rightmost rail each time they split, sending him and his gang towards a shaft into which no others had ventured for months now.