Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  More fool them.

  Linus ground to a halt in the midst of a road. Uther came alongside him. “What’s the matter, Woodlouse?”

  “Checkpoint,” Linus breathed, nodding ahead.

  Sure enough the road was barred by a kiosk and a simple arm-gate. Three Howlers were milling about, bored and smouldering various embers. The road was closed in by walls, but beyond lay nothing, only blackness – the Everdor countryside.

  “They’ll stop us,” Linus said, plucking at his Bloodfang cloak. “If we only had Hummel cloaks.”

  “Just run it, mate,” Uther replied.

  “Run it?”

  “Aye! Thump ‘em!”

  “But the gate, Uther!” Linus seethed.

  “Duck.”

  “Duck?”

  “Lean and duck, mate. Get down right low, yeah?”

  Linus stared wide-eyed at Uther, horrified at the words tumbling from his helmet grille.

  “Your instructor never taught you that?” Wild-heart scoffed.

  “No.”

  “Schmutz!”

  The Howlers at the checkpoint had noticed the strangers parked in the middle of the road. One beckoned them over with a wave, suspicious already. There was no going back now.

  “Look, just do what I do,” Uther growled.

  “Uther!”

  “You can do it, Woodlouse! ‘Tis easy!”

  “I c-c-can’t!”

  “You thumping can!”

  With that, Wild-heart took off down the street, his tracked bike popping and churning heartily, though it was no match for his Giacomo Dragonfly, even less Ivan’s purring Spider.

  Linus hurriedly stepped on the gas and followed as closely as he dared, his eyes locked on Uther’s flapping cloaked shoulders. As he approached the checkpoint at ramming speed, Uther suddenly ducked down and leant steeply to the right, his body in line with the bike’s, itself remaining upright whilst the rider almost dismounted altogether, his right knee and elbow an inch from scraping on the cobbles!

  Under the gate! He was through!

  One of the Howlers raised a pistol and shot into the night, but Uther kept on going.

  Before Linus had time to think the gate was upon him, the Howlers too, paws raised, pistols too, shouting their warnings for him to stop. Heart pounding, Linus raised his left foot and slipped sideways off the deafening, quivering bike. The mono, duo, whatever it was, remained defiantly upright as Linus leant lower and lower, as far as he dared, the cobbles a blur – if he fell now he was a dead wolf. He caught sight of a pistol flash, of sparks pinging off the bike’s white bodywork and flying at his helmet-clad face like shooting stars.

  The gate thrummed by overhead, an inch from Linus’s blonde ears if that.

  I’m through! I did it!

  Behind, two of the Howlers leapt on their bikes and the third picked up a telephone – the race was on.

  Chapter 50

  The Alpha swirled his drink – apple juice – and watched the city packs stuff themselves on the back of Hummel hospitality. The freshest food, the finest wine, a roaring fire and plenty of bunting strung between the hexagonal pillars and balconies; the reception was a magnificent do as always. The Den Fathers of each pack sat with the white-cloaked Cora at the head of the U-shaped table, with the ranks diminishing in prestige the further one ventured away, through Elders, Grand Howlers, Howlers, right down to the puny ALPHA contingent, stuck disrespectfully at the end of the U on a hastily-set extra table. The excuse went that they had not been expected to even attend back when the plans had been made and nobody had corrected the oversight since.

  A blatant lie.

  Den Mother Cora had offered a hasty change-around, but Adal, playing up the injury dealt him, and highlighting his own humility in the face of it, refused to displace anyone else of their rightful position, much to Horst’s dismay.

  “Look at them all,” he complained. “Bunch of pigs. They did this on purpose.”

  “Mind your tongue, that’s mah sister-in-law you’re calling a pig!” Duncan growled.

  “I didn’t mean her,” Horst insisted, tugging his cloak and setting his medals jingling.

  Duncan made his excuses again, “Mah Alpha, Ah’m sure it’s just an oversight. Ah know how Hummel works, ‘tis run behind the scenes by wee beasts, they do all the clerical box-ticking. Cora’s nae concerned with seating arrangements.”

  “Indeed,” Adal seconded. “No matter, Duncan, this makes us look good.”

  “Good, my Alpha?”

  “Humble; as indeed we are. Are we not, Horst?”

  “Of course, but this is ridiculous,” Horst blustered, peering across at some yellow-cloaked Greystones opposite, snickering and elbowing each other. “Look at them lot over there, laughing at us. It’s a big joke.”

  The Alpha sipped his juice, “Let them laugh.”

  An elegant feminine Prefect crossed the hall and joined the ALPHA table, sitting in the empty space along from Duncan.

  “Janoaaah!” the latter roared, raising his glass – the Hummel brandy was taking hold by the sounds. “You’ve joined us at last.”

  “Grand Prefect,” Janoah saluted, and again, “My Alpha.”

  The white-faced Adal raised a brown paw accordingly. “Where’ve you been, Prefect?”

  “Checking on Stenton.”

  A nod.

  “That useless lump of yours?” Horst scoffed, tearing some bread for his second course; soup. “Josef ought to put him out of his misery. It would be a kindness.”

  Janoah caught a passing rabbit waiter and demanded some soup also, then, and only then, replied, “You will change your mind if Stenton is all that stands between a Republic and Amael’s dictatorship, Grand Prefect.”

  Horst spluttered through his bread, “Fat chance! Where is he then? He should be here, protecting the Alpha, lest hyenas descend from the rafters. Instead he is bedridden, as per usual.”

  “Rafe has time, sir. THORN will not attack tonight.”

  “You know that for a fact, do you?”

  Janoah explained patiently, “If Nurka plans to use black-imperium, as all evidence suggests, he will not move until Amael and the other conspirators are clear of danger. It must all have been planned most carefully. We must watch Amael’s movements tomorrow. His leaving is the signal.”

  “For what?”

  Janoah tore her own bread, “Hopefully nothing, provided the Alpha and I have outmanoeuvred him.”

  Horst looked to his leader. “My Alpha, have you confided in Prefect Janoah before me?”

  “Not now, Horst.”

  “She knows your intentions more than I, clearly-”

  “Whatever is being done is now beyond my control, let alone Prefect Janoah’s machinations,” Adal said. “It is up to agents put in place weeks ago to fulfil their duties and avert disaster. Nothing I say or do can change our fate, except to alert Amael and the conspirators to our knowledge of their plot and allow them to evade justice, and that I will not do. Loose tongues lose wars, remember the old propaganda?” The Alpha sipped his apple juice. “Now shut up and eat your soup. For all we know it could be our last meal.”

  “My Alpha, how can you joke at a time like this?”

  Adal Weiss went further and allowed a rare laugh, which could not be pinned on alcohol-free apple juice.

  Over at the head of the table, Cora Hummel entertained her fellow Den Fathers, Thorvald Eisbrand, Flaid Greystone, Amael Bloodfang and the two Bloc representatives sent this year whose names escaped many, their packs being so puny and obscure as to be drowned in the greater eddies of Lupan politics, not that the diplomatic Cora let on. Her husband, Angus, was relegated to sitting some seats over, supplanted by even the lowly posteriors of the Bloc Den Fathers who, even in their obscurity, were more important than some spouse. Angus Hummel was merely the ‘Queen Bee’s’ drone, kept around to provide Cora with company and cubs, and to nurture them whilst she got on and ran the vast Hummel territory of Everdor, everyone knew that. He d
id have her ear though, everyone knew that too, and thus took great heed of him despite his total inability to wield imperium, a rare thing in Howler circles.

  Angus himself took heed of one Den Father in-particular. “Good for you, Amael!” he said, shouting across more than a few faces and raising his glass. “Sticking it tae ALPHA. That’s what Ah like tae see.”

  “I’ve no intention of being bullied,” the stone-grey Amael replied cordially.

  “They will be suitably chastised,” said the big, grey-cloaked Flaid, nestled between Amael and Cora. “Some form of cross-pack regulation is necessary, of course, but ALPHA’s wings must be… clipped.”

  “Pulled off more like,” Angus said.

  Thorvald stayed out of the debate, thrumming his fingers on the tabletop and picking at his food, whilst Cora’s lips remained sealed by well-timed sips of Hummel brandy. Did they disagree or were they just being gracious? It won’t matter come this time tomorrow, Amael thought, none of this will.

  Some Hummel Howlers approached, both female; one whispered in Cora’s pricked black ears.

  The Den Mother looked up with a start and mopping her mouth excused herself.

  “What’s wrong, Cora?” Thorvald asked with a familiarity bred from decades.

  “Mah daughter’s here,” she replied, adding, “Aye, that daughter.”

  “Your eldest?”

  “Aye. Ah was nae expecting her.” The Den Mother threw aside her napkin. “If you’ll excuse me gentlebeasts, Ah’ll return shortly.”

  Angus also made to rise.

  “Stay, Angus,” his wife commanded, marching off with her fellow Howlers.

  Sipping his brandy, Amael watched her go and looked to Flaid. “Where’s she going?”

  “Sounds like her eldest daughter is in town,” Flaid grunted. “They don’t get on, I hear.”

  *

  Glancing back at the ward doors, Meryl slapped Tristan on the cheek, gently, if rapidly.

  “Tristan. Tristan wake up. Tristan!”

  “Ungh… grrfffgh!” he snorted. “Meryl? What… w-www-where am I?”

  “Sit up. Come on. Up you get, Howler.”

  “I can’t. I feel so… tired.”

  “I’ve given you a little taubfene, enough to stop the pain but not knock you out. You’ll feel odd, but you should be able to walk. Now get up. Come on!”

  At length, little Meryl levered the huge, languid Howler upright; on top of her medical training she’d had a lot of practise of late shifting Rafe’s unmanageable bulk.

  The numbed Tristan noticed himself. “W-w-what’ve they done to me?” he yelped, horrified eyes searching his bandaged arms and scorched fur. “What happened? I… I remember-”

  “Tristan, listen to me!” Meryl snapped, grasping his face. “Nikita tried to kill you. He tried to rack you to death to cover his tracks, do you understand? Do not go back to him or anyone else involved in the conspiracy, and stay away from the Eisbrands too, at least until things blow over and Thorvald returns… if he ever does.”

  Tristan shook his head, “Thorvald’s not to be harmed, Meryl. I’d never put his life in-”

  “I don’t want to hear about it!” Meryl hissed, paws raised. “I don’t care what you’ve done, just get dressed. I’ll slip you out of ALPHA HQ, for old times’ sake.”

  Tears streaked from Tristan’s duotone eyes, “Oh, Meryl… I….”

  “Save it, you foolish wolf. Now hurry, before the nightshift takes over.”

  *

  “Sara.”

  “Mum.”

  Mother and daughter met in a quiet side atrium, with Halberdier Grant and a few other Howlers, including the ones who had summoned the Den Mother hither.

  “What’s this Ah’m told?” Cora demanded sharply, looking between Sara and a shame-faced Grant. “Helping perfect strangers steal bikes tae go joy-riding, is that what you get up tae these days?”

  “No!”

  “Then what? Explain yourself, daughter, before Ah banish ye from Everdor forever!”

  Sara looked about at Grant and the Howlers. “Can we have some privacy here?”

  Cora replied, “Whatever need be said, can be said in front of our loyal Howlers-”

  “Mum!” Sara piped. “This is the present day, nae the Dark Age. Speak tae me normally, all right?”

  At length, Cora dismissed her followers. “Go on, now.”

  With salutes and heel-clicks, the Howlers exited. Grant also attempted to slink away.

  “Don’t go far, Halberdier, Ah’ll speak tae ye after!” Cora growled dangerously, making Grant’s shoulders hunch.

  “Aye, marm.”

  Once they were alone, Cora took a sharp breath and brushed past her daughter to an antique sofa nestled between silken yellow curtains. Sitting with a hefty armoured clink, she patted the plush Hummel-themed upholstery, complete with a honeycomb pattern.

  “All right, mah first born. Say your piece.”

  “Call off your Howlers,” Sara implored instantly, stepping closer but not sitting down, as if her mother were a poisonous bug. “Let mah friends pass the checkpoints.”

  “The thieves that stole the bikes?” the Den Mother enquired, in a rising, incredulous tone.

  Sara huffed, “Borrowed, Mum.”

  “Borrowed? Tae borrow means tae ask.”

  “We could nae ask, there was nae time. This is an emergency!”

  “Och! Ye had time tae deceive Grant,” Cora observed. “A daughter of mine, wielding her feminine charms like a weapon. Is this what life in Lupa has taught ye? Tae behave like all those Common Ground, Lupanar harlots-”

  “Mum! Grant’s an old friend, nae a perfect stranger.”

  “And that makes it all right then?”

  Sara folded her arms. “See? This is why Ah went around ye, everything’s always a gigantic fuss.”

  “Sara, Ah want tae help ye, just talk tae me-”

  “If ye want tae help, Mum, telephone the checkpoints from here tae Grunrose and tell them tae let mah friends pass. They’ll fight if they have tae!”

  Cora scowled, “Oh aye, will they now? Then is it treason you’re about, daughter?”

  “Do you think Ah’d betray mah own family?”

  “No, but these ‘friends’ might’ve taken ye for a fool.”

  Sara whirled away, calmed herself, then turned back with her paws to her muzzle. “There’s something else,” she began furtively.

  “By Ulf, there’s more?”

  Parting her paws, Sara whispered, “Ah need some royal jelly.”

  Silence, but for the distant bustle of banqueting.

  Cora looked to the exit, then seethed as loudly as she dared, “Out of the question!”

  “It’s for a close friend. He’s dying from rot.”

  “Who isn’t these days?”

  “This is different! He’s gone blind and everything! Ah can’t stand tae see him this way, Ah just can’t.”

  Cora shot to her feet, “Ah cannae give out jelly on a whim, it does nae grow on trees!” she hissed. “Wolves would kill tae know our secret. You only know of it at all because you were given it that day and remembered. Ah had nae choice, Ah could nae see mah first born die.”

  “Ah feel the same way about Bruno!”

  “Bruno? Nae that cook you used tae write me about, the one who disappeared.”

  “Aye, the very wolf.” Sara dipped her chin, then raised it, tears on her cheek. “Ah missed him so much, Mum. Ah didnae even realise until now.”

  “Och, Sara dear.”

  “He’s nae the same wolf. He’s… ill and… and changed in his mind.” Choosing her words carefully, Sara wiped her eyes, “Maybe the jelly will bring him back. Even if it doesn’t he’ll be better. Ah cannae see him suffer. Please, ye have tae help.”

  Drawing an exasperated breath, the hard Den Mother of Hummel dissolved before her daughter’s tears. “Ah’ll nae give ye a drop of jelly,” she said, pointing at the sofa, “nae pick up any phone, until you sit down and tell
me what you’ve got mixed up in this time, Sara Hummel.”

  Cora slowly, regally, sat again.

  “Nae word for months and now suddenly all this stuff and nonsense. First Tristan Eisbrand is arrested and then you disappear. Even Professor Heath has vanished! They say you had a paw in it. Is that true?”

  Silence.

  “Your father’s been fretting over it all,” Cora went on, trying to tease forth the truth. “You know what he thinks of ALPHA. Ah told him there must be evidence against Tristan for him tae be taken in; Adal’s nae a fool. Ah said you’d be all right; they would nae dare touch you for fear of me. But still, Ah’ve been concerned. If you’re in trouble, if you need me tae talk tae Adal and get ALPHA tae back down, Ah will. Whatever you did it cannae be all that.”

  Sara took a deep breath, “Ah’ll tell ye everything, but call off your Howlers first.”

  “With THORN threatening tae sneak into the Summit, are ye mad? Ah cannae lax security-”

  “It makes nae difference. THORN won’t sneak through checkpoints, Mum. They’ll nae even come by road.”

  “Och! Will hyenas just fall from the sky then?”

  “Aye,” Sara claimed, “that they will!”

  Cora blinked, frowned.

  “Phone the checkpoints yourself,” Sara instructed. “Don’t go through anyone else. There could be a spy anywhere and if they find out what we’re doing they’ll… well… Ah dunno what they’d do, but you can bet it’ll nae help us win!”

  Cora made huffing noises and plucked at her cloak.

  Suddenly Angus rounded the corner. “Ah’ll see tae it,” he grunted; he had evidently been listening in long enough. “Ah’ll telephone ahead and clear the checkpoints for your two friends, just give me their names.”

  “Angus!” Cora chided.

  “Thanks, Dad, you’re a lifesaver,” Sara breathed, cocking her head. “It’s Uther and Linus; they’re Bloodfangs, though one is in disguise as a Prefect.”

  “Disguise?”

  “Aye.”

  Sighing, Angus grunted, “All right, but Ah expect you’ll have explained yourself tae yer mother in the meantime,” he warned, lingering long enough to add, “We’ll talk about your behaviour later. Is that clear young lady?”