Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “Proud?”

  A nod, a smile... a gulp.

  *

  “Tomeeeek,” Rufus growled, cupping his paws to his face as he lay on the stretcher still. “Why did you let Janoah talk you into it?” he growled. “Why?”

  Tomek could but stand with his paws behind his back, shrugging and shuffling as Rufus chided him. In the end the young Watcher whispered, “She worried for you. I am happy do it, for Lupa. I help you for Lupa.”

  “I felt so guilty. You wouldn’t believe how awful I felt thinking I’d gotten you in trouble. All this time you made me suffer when you were a mere actor?”

  “Not always!” Tomek defended indignantly, checking the tent flaps for stray hyenas before subduing his voice. “I not act when I stop Madou; that was real. Janoah not speak to me until after that day. I am no more actor than you. My story, it just fit. I had upset Elder Watcher by helping you and he had punished me; that’s what we decided. Janoah arrange everything and I was sent down, just like you. It was all pretend, yes; I lied, yes; but I still mean what I say and do.”

  Rufus turned his cheek and sighed, “Well… you’re here now. You’re a grown up, I suppose. Like Noss said you’ve shot beasts; nearly shot me back at the wall that time.”

  Tomek shrugged and dipped his chin, “I not aim at you. I aimed over your head.”

  “Grateful, I’m sure.”

  “No. I always aim above prisoners. I have… never shot anyone before.”

  Rufus chuckled, “And I thought I was special for a moment there. What if you boys had all aimed over my head, what’d happen then, a pardon perhaps?”

  “It not happened so far.”

  Rufus grunted, changed subject. “In any case you’ve done your bit. You’re a Watcher so you know how to survive out here in Everdor, don’t you?

  A nod, “I can survive in Ashfall. This place? Looks easy.”

  “Right. First opportunity you get you slip away and head back to civilisation. I mean it.”

  Expecting resistance, Rufus was surprised when Tomek replied, “That’s our plan.”

  “Oh. Well, good,” Red-mist sniffed officiously, settling down. “Who’s plan?” he snorted, sitting up a little.

  “Noss.”

  “You’ve been talking. What’s he up to?”

  The tent flaps parted and Casimir limped inside. The white rabbit nodded and saluted at Rufus, then looked to Tomek and hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “Can I borrow you, lad?” he asked simply.

  Tomek hurried out at once, stopping only to look back at Rufus and salute him roguishly as ever.

  “Tomek!” the wounded Rufus yelped, trying, failing to get up and give chase. “Tomek, wait a minute-agh!”

  It was no good; Rufus was out of the loop.

  Slipping across the THORN camp with Casimir, Tomek went unhindered by the hyenas. Those that had accompanied Nurka into the mines knew Tomek had been instrumental in getting Prince Noss and everyone else out, whilst those that didn’t know of him yet at least recognised Casimir as Nurka’s trusted ally – he wouldn’t be up to no good with any treacherous, untrustworthy wolfen agent.

  So, they went about their business. Even the pugnacious Themba paid no heed, save to look up from a quickly stolen meal by a campfire and sniff, “Welcome to Kambi Mata, little Casimir. You’re one of us now.”

  “Aye, what a let down,” the little beast gruffed in passing. “Just a lot of tents ‘en it!”

  Themba frowned, then laughed.

  “Kambi Mata?” Tomek whispered, as he and Casimir walked swiftly on.

  “Never mind, just keep moving,” the rabbit hissed.

  Into a tent, Noss was waiting inside, pacing on a rug. He whirled on Casimir and Tomek, looked beyond them. “Rufus?” he inquired.

  “Still laid up bad,” Casimir replied. “I couldn’t risk him hobbling across camp for all to see.”

  Noss nodded, “It’s probably for the best, he’ll only disapprove. I’ll speak to him if I get a chance.” The hyena spread a paw about, gesturing to a pillow-strewn hyena bed and a low table complete with drinks. “My quarters,” he cackled, “Nurka wanted to give me his luxurious pad; I refused.”

  “Should’ve accepted and asserted your authority,” Casimir snorted, snatching a drink from the table and knocking it back – he needed it. “Shouldn’t yer?” he added.

  “By refusing him I have asserted my authority,” Noss explained. He checked outside for any listening ears, then returned. “You’ve lived amongst my kind all this time and yet learnt nothing of our ways, rabbit.”

  Casimir defended, “I’m not as cosy with THORN as you think ‘hyena’. I’ve never been here before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This camp; Kambi Mata. This is THORN’s main HQ, you realise that?”

  “Camp of the dead?” Noss said, with a curious frown.

  Tomek repeated, “Camp of the dead?”

  “In our tongue, that’s what Kambi Mata means.”

  “Reassuring, eh lad?” Casimir chucked at Tomek, pouring another drink. “Told yer not to ask.”

  “Then… Jua-mata means?”

  “Dead Sun.”

  Tomek snorted at Noss, “That is your tribe’s name?”

  “And what of it, boy?”

  “Nothing. Well, is not very....”

  “Friendly?” the prince cackled. “And ‘Bloodfang’ is, I suppose? It’s no good calling yourselves the Fluffy Wuffy Bees; well, unless you’re Hummel!”

  Tomek smiled and dipped his chin – Hummel’s bee symbol always had been a bit of a giggle amongst the city packs.

  Knocking his second drink back, Casimir said, “Nurka’s never let me come this far in before. Usually I’m dumped in the outer camps with the other raiders whilst he and Themba carry on deeper into the forest with the black-imperium flasks. Aside from them, the only hyenas allowed into Kambi Mata were the ones who never went on raids and so would never be captured. I dunno why he’s so lax now. I mean, you’re his Prince ‘en all so it makes sense fer you, but Rufus and Tomek? Nurka’s usually paranoid about outsiders.”

  “He’s getting careless,” Noss theorised, peering outside again at distant hyenas milling about – he could feel no coronas, save Tomek’s. “He was desperate to tell me his plan, you know; it was a relief for him. He feels safe now. He thinks nobody can stop him. He’s right – we’re in the middle of nowhere, miles from a phone, and nobody can get word out before the Summit tomorrow-”

  “No, he’s wrong!” Tomek growled, clenching a fist. “We will stop him. We have to.”

  Noss agreed with a hearty nod, “You two have to get away and warn the Howlers.”

  “I stay with you, no?” Tomek offered. “Back you up in case of a fight?”

  “No, Tomek, you and Casimir will have to split up and search for help – you’ll cover more ground that way. Slip away as soon as you can. Find a road, a house, a farm, even a Howler; there’ll be something out here, there must be. Get word to Hummelton, specifically Vladimir – he alone will take you seriously.”

  Tomek reluctantly agreed.

  Looking between the wolf and hyena, Casimir threw his pale paws wide, “What do we say to this ‘Vladimir’?”

  For once not smiling, Noss raised his dark chin a little, and his purple, imperium-laden eyes searched the stained canvas ceiling, “Tell him to look up.”

  *

  They were in the tent for some time, chatting, gesticulating, then the flaps parted, spitting Tomek and Casimir into the open. Madou kept a wary eye on the wolf and rabbit as they took a seat by the fire with Themba and partook of some food.

  Madou remained discreet until Nurka fetched Noss from his tent and led the prince across the camp.

  “Chief!” Madou puffed, running over, hefty arms swaying.

  “Yes, Madou?” Nurka sighed with forced patience, whirling on his comrade, paws behind back.

  “My Prince,” Madou added, bowing.

  “Madou,” Noss acknowledged.<
br />
  After an extended awkward silence, the stocky Madou clumsily articulated to his chief, “What’s happening now?”

  “Happening?” he replied.

  “What’s everyone doing?”

  “Resting?” Nurka suggested, nodding at Themba by the fire. The big hyena was stirring a small pot emitting purple fumes. “Go and sit down, Madou, drink some chunta with Themba. You need to regain your strength after your time in Gelb.”

  Madou glanced between Noss and Nurka, “Haven’t we got to discuss the plan?”

  “When I’m ready.”

  “But the Summit’s tomorrow-”

  “When I’m ready,” Nurka re-iterated sternly. He slapped Madou on the shoulder and gestured to the best tent in the camp. “I know this camp’s new to you too, but the Qu-… my tent’s just over there; you’re welcome to it.”

  Madou accepted his lot, “Chief,” and watched Nurka lead Noss through the forest. Noss was the centre of Nurka’s world now it seemed.

  He’s our Prince, Madou told himself. It’s only right.

  Crossing the camp, leg armour rattling, Madou went to Nurka’s rather grand-looking tent. It was even grander on the inside, rugs, pillows and other fineries jostling for Madou’s attention. He didn’t think too much of it as he sat amongst the pillows, only that this wasn’t very Nurka. The chief had always been a hard, if learned hyena, surrounding himself with books rather than pillows. Perhaps power is going to his head? Perhaps he’s starting to think he’s some kind of prince himself after leading THORN so long? He had spoken to Noss out of turn at times, even contempt back in the caves. That sort of attitude would get a hyena in trouble, usually.

  Madou lay back and allowed himself to relax, even sleep, despite his feverish thoughts.

  *

  It proved a long, winding walk into the deepest darkest Everdor woodland before Nurka stopped at no place in particular and veered off to the left. Noss had tried to memorise the route, eyes searching secretly for landmarks; rocks, strange trees, anything. The only real standout feature for Noss, apart from a giant, black millipede trundling through the ferns nearby like an Elder Train, was the very cave he now found himself standing before. Nurka parted the thick thorn bushes obscuring its mouth and pushed through them into the gaping limestone maw.

  “My Prince,” he urged, parting the foliage from the other side like a beast peeping out from behind a green stage curtain to check the mood of the audience. “This way.”

  Looking over this low, moss-cloaked collection of stones that could barely be called a cave, Noss pushed through the thorn bushes. The usually sessile wall of spiked branches tore at his fur like things suddenly motile, almost pulling the prince’s dazzling duotone mantle clean from his shoulders as he twisted his body to freedom on the other side; his legs and face were armoured, but his arms suffered many scratches.

  “By the Wind, Nurka,” Noss complained, rubbing at his stinging arms. “You must be red-raw coming in and out of here after an imperium raid.”

  “You grow accustomed to it, my Prince.”

  Lighting the way with their brooches, chieftain and prince dared the pale, glistening, limestone cave; Noss hoped this one didn’t twist as deeply into Mother Erde as Gelb, he’d had quite enough of all that.

  “It’s not far,” Nurka reassured, as if reading his Prince’s mind.

  “Lead on,” Noss replied amiably.

  I could kill you now, he thought, looking at the back of Nurka’s helmet-clad head, but that won’t stop you; Themba and Madou will carry on your mad mission. I must either challenge you openly, or else destroy your imperium cache in secret tonight. I won’t get a chance to do both, but Tomek and Casimir will be on their way and one of them will succeed in warning the Howlers.

  Someone must.

  Nurka stopped by a small cavity in the side of the otherwise smooth cave passage. He stood to one side, rasping, “Here, my Prince.”

  Suppressing a primeval gulp of fear for what he was about to look upon, Noss peered into the side atrium.

  There they were, dozens of spherical canisters marked with the deadly ‘X’ denoting black-imperium, all stacked neatly together. They resembled the tanks of anaesthetic gas Noss had seen used in Lupa’s hospitals to soothe the moans of the wounded, but a whiff from one of these would do rather more than put a beast under.

  There looked enough to douse Hummelton good and proper and then a fair portion of Lupa beyond – Nurka had casually mentioned, as he and Noss had traipsed through the woods as if engaged in an afternoon stroll, attempting a second gas attack against Lupa itself if all went well regards Hummelton tomorrow, perhaps eliminating Amael. Noss had but nodded and grunted, even as his guts twisted with horror.

  Did Nurka truly understand what he was proposing? Elder, Howler and citizen; healthy, rotten, guilty or innocent; wolf, hyena and little beast; the poisonous rain would make no nice distinctions. Everything it touched would rot and any infrastructure so contaminated would remain unusable for millennia.

  Nurka was out to make his very own Dead City, to create utter desolation and call it victory.

  *

  Madou awoke with a snort and glanced about the tent. How long have I been asleep? Not long, I think.

  Extracting himself from the pillows, Madou went to the tent flaps and looked blinkingly to the campfire where Themba sat tending his pot of sacred chunta.

  With a quick glance up and down the camp, Madou hurried over. “Where’d they go?”

  Themba looked up from the heady purple fumes, “Who?”

  “Tomek and Casimir?”

  The big hyena frowned slowly. “They went to rest. You should be resting too; we’ve a big day tomorrow. Come, sit and drink with me, Madou. It could be the last time we ever do in this life.”

  Madou glanced about, “Where’d they go exactly?”

  “Who?”

  “Ragh! Tomek and Casimir, you chunta-drunk fool!”

  “I don’t know!” Themba growled, looking the short Madou up and down. “What’s wrong with you?” He ladled out some rich, purple chunta into a bowl. “Drink, Madou.”

  Rejecting the offer, Madou continued his search, half-walking, half-jogging about the camp, glancing in tents at sleeping hyenas and checking every fire, asking beasts if the grey wolf and the white rabbit had passed this way until he was directed to the edge of the camp and the dirt track that the trucks had trundled down to get here. No sign of Tomek or Casimir, just a winding dirt road cutting an arboreal tunnel through the ferny woodland.

  Madou hurried down the muddy road, puddles splashing underfoot, until some fearsome, skull-painted THORN hyenas leapt out of the ferns and barred his path with their imperium spears.

  Madou expected nothing less. In his native hyena tongue he asked them if a wolf and a rabbit passed though here, Casimir – you all know Casimir the white rabbit.

  Yes, the hyenas replied in kind, Casimir had passed through with a Chakaa wolf honoured with our colours.

  Where were they going? Madou pressed.

  To the outer camp, where Casimir’s old tent was; he was going to fetch his things here now that he was allowed into Kambi Mata.

  Thanking his THORN brothers, Madou sped down the road towards the second camp.

  *

  The outer camp was a mile down the track; running would look suspicious so Casimir checked his and Tomek’s pace. The forest either side was crawling with watching THORN terrorists and booby traps had been laid all over; spike pits, tripwires attached to yellow-imperium bombs, ash grenades and falling logs, the list was comprehensive. The only safe way out of THORN territory was down the road and through the camp, preferably on wheels if they could get some.

  “I’m one of the few experienced drivers and I’ve driven the black-imperium trucks before,” Casimir explained to Tomek, as he limped nervously along. “They shouldn’t think it unusual that Nurka’s asked me to drive something somewhere.”

  “Uh huh,” Tomek breathed.

 
“We’ll have to go back if they stop us, and try again later.”

  “Yeah.”

  Casimir glanced up at the taller Tomek. “You remind me of my lad,” he said fondly. “Wolf of few words, Bruno, and brave as could be. I like to think if he’s one of you now he’s a good ‘un, even if he is an Eisenwolf.”

  Tomek smiled; Casimir could not see it beneath the wolf’s helmet, but his eyes squinted at least.

  “Airship,” Casimir said, looking up at the sky through the branches, perhaps eager to change subject. “Nurka’s a genius, but thumping mad.”

  “You really did not know of Nurka’s plan?”

  “No, lad. Nobody did.”

  “Would you have helped THORN if you did?”

  Casimir stayed silent for a time, “At the time… maybe. Now I know Bruno’s alive it’s different. I got him to fight for again.”

  Tomek said nothing.

  “You must despise me,” Casimir grunted.

  “You make mistake,” Tomek reasoned, looking all around. “Is natural. I make many mistakes in life also. But we make good now, both of us.”

  The outer camp appeared through the trees; tents, wooden fences, some tree houses. Hyenas emerged from the forest to check what Casimir was up to; he got past them speaking in their native tongue which Tomek didn’t understand. Satisfied with Casimir’s story, the hyenas let him and his wolfen guest pass before melting into the trees again.

  So far so good.

  Into the camp, past hyenas milling about; Tomek always on the receiving end of funny looks, but he was with the white rabbit so all must be well. These were the raiders, Casimir told Tomek, those that had accompanied him and Nurka to Lupa time and again, stockpiling black-imperium without knowing exactly why. They didn’t know its location or what Chakaa Nurka had in mind, only that their chief had a grand plan to smash wolfkind using the cursed blood of Mother Erde, her black, imperious fury. Tomorrow the plan would be revealed to them and the end of their trials was near. Excitement was running high. Hyenas danced and drank, laughed and whooped, more so tonight than any other night before a planned raid that Casimir could remember. There were no females though; a filthy camp in the middle of Everdor was no place for even the lowliest hyeness.