Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “More?”

  “Jan needs me to be strong for her. I can’t let her down, she’s counting on me-”

  “Jan, Jan, Jan, is she all you care about?” Sara huffed with frustration. “Don’t you understand? She’s the one who ruined your life! She took ye from me, from Casimir, from everyone who loved ye and had you pumped with imperium until you forgot us. She’s killing you-”

  “Such shocking ignorance!” Janoah barked, emerging from the shadows of the windowless carriage. “And you a university-educated wolf? What is the world coming to when the best and brightest in Lupa do not even understand basic biology? Fact is, girl, Rafe was dying, Josef and I saved him, and more besides.”

  Had Janoah been listening in the whole time, could she have heard everything? Indeed she could’ve, for Sara at last realised the carriage was as still and silent as a tomb.

  The train’s stopped! We must be in Hummelton. I’m home. Mum and Dad are near.

  I’m safe now.

  Emboldened Sara stood up straight. “Ah’m nae afraid of you,” she told Janoah, walking round Bruno’s makeshift bed and pointing back at him. “Ah’m going tae expose what you did tae Bruno.”

  “Aww, deedums. Going to tell your mummy and daddy about the nasty Prefect?” Janoah mocked. “Your parents can’t touch me, girl, I have no case to answer. Eisenwolves are a legally grey area. Besides, they’d as likely kill Rafe as not. Is that what you want?”

  “Kill him?”

  “Your ignorance knows no bounds does it?” Janoah huffed at Sara, brushing past her to stand over Rafe and stroke his ears. “I’m here, Stenton.”

  “Jan,” Rafe croaked, grabbing her arm, “I need more imperium.”

  “No, you can’t have any more. No more taubfene either.”

  “But I have to-”

  “Josef’s stung you up to the eyeballs already! Your body’s used the imperium to heal itself, but you’re full of ash now. You won’t be able to see for weeks… but you’ll live.”

  “I can’t f-fff-fight like this!”

  “You may not have to,” Janoah said. “When the time comes all you need do is stand behind me. You can do that, can’t you?”

  Rafe was baffled, “S-sss-stand behind you?”

  “Amael and the others won’t know the difference; they won’t know you’re ill. They just have to see you at my back, my Eisenwolf, invincible in his suit! They won’t dare raise a paw against us… whatever we decide.”

  “Decide?”

  “Shh! Rest. Don’t worry yourself with the details, leave that to me. I’ll get you some food from the catering carriage.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You must eat. Besides, we’re on the Eisbrand train now; you wouldn’t believe the food. Even their leftovers are better than ALPHA rations.”

  Rafe laughed.

  Janoah turned to Sara and looked the little wolfess up and down.

  “You can stop playing dress-up now,” she derided. “Take Olivia and go. Nobody will stop you.”

  “Ah’m staying here.”

  “I thought you were going to go tell on me?”

  “Well there’s nae point if it’ll do nae good!” Sara admitted angrily. She looked down at her feet, “Look, Ah just… Ah just want Bruno tae be all right. Ah know what’s happening is bigger than any one wolf, but promise me you’ll do your best for him. Please… be a good ‘un.”

  “Good ‘un?” Janoah chirped with amusement. “Well you’re a bold ‘un all right, I’ll give you that.”

  Glancing at Rafe, Janoah ushered Sara out through the carriage door, which she closed. Standing with Sara on the ledge between the sunbathed stationary carriages she continued, “If being a ‘good ‘un’ means I won’t let Lupa sink into hyena-ruled chaos then I am that, I promise you,” she said, “but understand this: Rafe is what he is, not what he was. He has Meryl and his new life now. Whatever sentimental mush you fill his head with won’t make a blind bit difference, except to confuse and upset him. If you love him, my dear, you’ll let him go. I don’t say you can’t see him, but don’t try and change him.”

  Sara closed her eyes and squeezed a tear out.

  “It’s your other friend you should cry for,” Janoah said, wiping Sara’s dark cheek with a finger. “You went through all this nonsense to protect her, didn’t you?”

  “Olivia?”

  Casting her eyes over sunny Hummelton, Janoah nodded and explained. “I can’t keep Josef away from her forever. The moment my back is turned he’s going to go after her.”

  Sara growled afresh, “Ah won’t let him take her!”

  “Oh but he won’t; she’ll go willingly.”

  “Never!”

  “Are you sure about that?” Janoah cooed. “Josef will offer her the Eisenwolf mantle, the chance to be like Rafe, a God amongst beasts! I think she’ll take it. I see it in her eyes, the greed, the ambition. She’s not like my Rafe.”

  “God amongst beasts? Bruno’s as good as bed-bound!”

  Janoah sighed. “Poor, healthy wolfess, you really don’t get what it is to be a Howler do you? We afflicted all endure suffering; strong or weak we rot just the same. But Rafe? Oh, he may suffer, but he could turn this train over if the mood stuck! He can shape wolfen destiny with a flick of his paw. By Ulf, if he only had a brain he’d be dangerous! As it is this rare power has fallen to a… dim lamp, shall we say.” Janoah paused for a fond chuckle, then said soberly, “What would young Olivia Blake choose, a slow decline like a dying fire, or a shooting star that is an Eisenwolf?”

  Silence.

  “See?” Janoah said. “Not so sure are you?”

  “But she’ll die young!” Sara argued, searching Janoah’s face for a denial. “Won’t she?”

  Janoah opened the next carriage door, but lingered long enough to say, “You’re fond of my husband aren’t you? You should heed his favourite fable. It’s Rafe’s too, you know… and mine.”

  With that Janoah crossed into the Alpha’s carriage and shut the door.

  Sara squinted at the familiar sunny townscape of Hummelton, banners and bunting fluttering, little beasts milling to and fro, and the yellow, hexagonal towers of Hummel’s capital den standing over the rolling rooftops like pencils in a colossal desk tidy. Sara remembered playing in the Den’s endless corridors as a cub, a privileged princess in all but name. She had dreamt of bringing Bruno here for years, to walk the clean streets, breathe the fresh air and sup the sweet water. Now here he was. Too late.

  Sara returned to Bruno’s side. After the sunshine and fresh air it took some time to adjust to the gloom of Josef’s awful carriage, to the gloom and the heady fumes of engine oil.

  “You’d better find Olivia,” Rafe grunted. “Jan’s right, Josef’s dying for a new patient. He’s bored of me.”

  Sara’s little jaw dropped open. “You heard us?”

  “I might be blind, but my ears can hear a pin drop,” Rafe boasted, with a smile. “Oi listen, Jan says a lot of stuff she don’t mean, but you can believe her when she says she’s a good ‘un. She’s… she’s always tried to protect me from myself. She thinks I’m too thick to take the truth, but I just don’t tell her what I remember about… old me. Bruno, en it? I try not to think about him too much. It’s better this way. It’s better for me, better for Meryl, better for Lupa to let him die. I’m Rafe now.”

  Sara waited a moment. “Can’t you be both?”

  “Eh?”

  “We all forget things, you know, not just you. Only the odd memory stays with me from day tae day; Ah forget what Ah say tae beasts and what Ah had for breakfast! You’re nae different, nae really; Bruno is still there. He’s still you.”

  Rafe raised his brow, “You know… I never forgot you, nor Dad. The names faded, but not the faces. I mean that.”

  Heartened by Bruno’s words, Sara took his paw and held it tight. “And Ah never gave up hope you were alive. Ah thought you were in a Howler Academy somewhere. Ah hoped one day you’d turn up at the univers
ity, like you used tae, only looking all handsome in a Howler mantle.”

  “Weren’t far wrong,” Bruno seethed.

  Suddenly he arched his back and growled in pain.

  “Bruno!” Sara yelped. “Bruno ye all right?”

  “Agh… sssfff… it’s fine. You go get Olivia, yeah? I can’t f-fff-feel her; she must be up the train somewhere. Bring her back here so you can keep an eye on her.”

  “You’ll be all right alone?”

  “Yeah. Go on.”

  With some misgivings, Sara hurried out to search the train, leaving Bruno to pant and seethe through a resurgence of bone-burning rot.

  *

  The Den Apiary was a marvel to behold. For some reason Linus expected Cora’s famous bees to live in great wooden huts out in the open, but they actually lived underground, within the Den’s foundations.

  The Den’s cellars harboured ancient observation corridors, dim subterranean passages cut eons ago and pocked with small, glazed hexagonal windows that allowed Linus and the other Bloodfang guests to peep into the domain of Hummel’s great bees. The light was poor, and the windows smeared with wax, but Linus could see the floor and walls beyond the windows were a rolling landscape of golden honeycombs watched over by countless hairy bees just like Toggle all jostling for space. Some of them trundled from cell to hexagonal cell, regurgitating nectar. Others fanned said cells with their wings, drying the nectar, thickening it into honey. Others capped the cells with beeswax, or built new cells, both by using their skilful mouthparts. Still others danced in circles like wild hyena warriors round a campfire, shaking their bodies and buzzing. They were communicating, as far as Linus understood from his private studies, telling other bees where to find flowers in a language of gesture and sound beyond the understanding of ‘higher’ beasts.

  It was wonderful, but even this marvel of nature couldn’t distract Linus from the torment coiling in his guts.

  Amael seemed perfectly at ease.

  “Where’s the queen?” he asked the white-cloaked Cora.

  “She’s drowsy at present,” she replied. “‘Tis early in the season, the colony has only just awoken after winter.”

  “Slacking, eh?” Amael joked, tapping the window with a finger. “They’d best get on, Lupa needs sweet honey almost as much as it needs venom.”

  Cora frowned a moment, then explained, “We don’t take honey from these bees anymore. Once, long ago now, the honey was used by our ancestors tae ease the rot. It was thought tae be a cure, but it was later discovered it merely contains white-imperium.”

  “There’s imperium in that honey?”

  “Aye, but a little. The plants the bees visit grow near imperium aquifers, so the nectar contains small amounts, which is then concentrated in the honey and wax – that’s why our bees grow so big. Of course, we have superior methods of obtaining white-imperium these days... albeit less elegant.”

  “What’s the point of keeping them then?” Amael snorted.

  Den Mother Cora patiently bore Amael’s metropolitan ignorance. “We don’t keep them; we simply co-exist. Bees are the sacred symbol of our pack going back generations. It’s said as long as they thrive, Hummel will stand.”

  Amael tipped his head back a little. “This… boorish city-beast has offended you, Den Mother,” he sniffed. “Please accept my apologies, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  Cora nodded a little, “None taken, Amael. Ah appreciate your curiosity, in fact.”

  A brief, awkward silence.

  Thankfully some Hummel Howlers emerged from the gloomy tunnels and whispered in their mistress’ dark ears. Nodding and dismissing them, Cora announced, “Ah’m afraid we’ll have tae end the tour here, Howlers. The Eisbrands have arrived, as have ALPHA.”

  “ALPHA?” Amael snorted at once

  “It seems so, yes.”

  Amael chuckled caustically, “Ridden Thorvald’s cloak to Everdor have they? I can’t believe he’d allow it!”

  Cora frowned, “What do you mean?”

  “ALPHA arrested one of Thorvald’s best Howlers just the other day, compounding the insult they dealt by taking Rufus at the Arkady Symposium. Adal’s impertinence knows no bounds, Den Mother. We must stop him, together.”

  Cora nodded, “Maybe so, but Ah must extend Den Prefect Adal the same courtesy as you for now-”

  “You should bar your gates to him and his thugs!”

  “That would nae be wise!” Cora said firmly. “If ye’ll excuse me, Den Father Amael, Ah must greet our guests.”

  Amael backed off a step, “Not at all, Den Mother. I’ve kept you long enough. My Howlers and I need to head back to our train and unpack in any case.”

  “Our cars are at your disposal.”

  “Thank you. We’ll walk back however. I wish to take in the sights before the Summit.”

  Cora nodded graciously and took her leave.

  Flicking a paw, Amael led his Bloodfangs from the viewing tunnels too.

  Vladimir lingered with Linus by a hexagonal window. “I underestimated him,” the Grand Howler murmured.

  “Sir?” Linus urged, baffled.

  The lofty Vladimir looked down at Linus as if he had only just noticed his presence. “Amael,” he grunted, “even though he plans for Cora and all the rest of the Den Fathers to be dead come the opening ceremony he still behaves as if the Summit will happen, as if this back-door dealing matters.” The Grand Howler sighed and shook his head, “I knew he was a degenerate, but the wolf seems to have buried what remained of his conscience along with Vito. Not a fleck of guilt, not a nervous moment. You’d never know what he was up to. And I thought Janoah was a consummate actor.”

  Linus held out one last hope for Amael’s soul. “Is he mad with rot, do you think?”

  Vladimir walked on, “I wish that he were. I think, however, he knows exactly what he’s doing, which makes him the worst kind of villain – a sane one.”

  Chapter 47

  Taking her pocket watch in one paw and Tristan’s wrist in the other, Meryl measured the wounded Howler’s pulse.

  Slow, but steady.

  The door to the ward opened and Silvermane crept over in his black Alpha gear. “How is he?” he asked, as Meryl adjusted the air flow of Tristan’s respirator.

  “Stable,” the nurse replied, casting her eyes over Tristan. His heaving body was dressed in long, rambling bandages, like white centipedes with tape legs. Each one covered a river-like plasma burn that had been carved into his hide by the rack, and there were many more tiny wounds and strips of burnt fur.

  “He should be dead,” Meryl went on. “I was a good ten seconds shutting the machine off.”

  Silvermane nodded and glanced over his cloaked shoulder, before continuing, “Was it on purpose?”

  Meryl dipped her delicate chin over her collar until it touched her cravat, “Yes.”

  “Nikita?”

  Another, smaller nod.

  Silvermane took a sharp breath, “He tried to silence a fellow conspirator and make it look like Maher did it. So… Nikita is one of them. The Alpha will be devastated.”

  “He threatened me,” Meryl revealed. “He said if I didn’t corroborate his story he would see to it Rafe died, or words to that effect.”

  “He’s in no position to threaten Rafe, nor will he ever be,” Silvermane assured. “But… corroborate is what you’ll do for now. I’ll pretend I believe your account.”

  Meryl turned to Silvermane and seethed, “You have to tell the Alpha.”

  “No. Nikita must have spies everywhere; Horst and Duncan could be against us too. I shall carry on as before. Things will come to a head soon enough.”

  “But what about me? What about Tristan?”

  “You’ll be fine, just let Nikita believe he’s got you over a barrel. It’s Tristan we must protect. I believe he’ll be in the mood to talk after Nikita tried to cook him.”

  Meryl pointed out to her superior that, “The Eisbrands want him released immediately; that was
the deal the Alpha stuck with Thorvald, you can’t keep him here any longer.”

  “Surely he’s too sick to be moved?”

  “Perhaps, but-”

  “Then I’ll explain to our Eisbrand brothers that Tristan must stay here for the sake of his own health,” Silvermane sniffed. “Besides, if he’s returned to the Eisbrands now the collaborators amidst their ranks will likely kill him before sundown. His best chance is to stay here.”

  “And how will you explain his wounds?”

  “I’ll tell them he resisted arrest.”

  “You can say what you like, Grand Prefect, but Thorvald will know he was racked in the end. ALPHA can’t hide it this time; he’ll be scarred for life you know.”

  “Let’s not pretend the Eisbrands don’t rack anyone.”

  “I don’t deny it, Grand Prefect, but ALPHA shouldn’t!”

  “They all do it-”

  “To maintain the moral high ground ALPHA should obey the Lupan Laws, not flout them!” Meryl dared, looking Silvermane up and down like a proper madam. “Every day we go on behaving as the other packs do we undermine the reason for our inception and invite more wolves like Amael Balbus to rise up. We’re supposed to set an example, not sink to their level.”

  Silvermane stared at the bold little nurse a moment. “Stay with him,” he instructed with a smack of the lips, neatly side-stepping Meryl’s dangerous words. “Don’t let anyone take Tristan, not even Nikita. I’ll say my orders come down from the Alpha.”

  Meryl visibly recoiled at Silvermane’s refusal to engage her grievances. Perhaps now was not the time, but there never seemed to be a time! Step by step, act by act, ALPHA was becoming that which it hated. Even Rafe, bless his heart, was a symptom of ALPHA’s rot, his eisenpelz a forbidden weapon that the packs could and would match if need be. If ALPHA’s allowed an Eisenwolf so are we, they might say, dusting off their suits and scouring their ranks for candidates once more. It’ll be an arms-race.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Silvermane assured. “If he wakes up send for me immediately and don’t let Nikita know.”