by Adam Browne
Before Nurka could say a word, Penny whirled round and gasped, “Linus!” She tugged on her husband’s sleeve. “Monty, it’s Howler Linus!”
“Linus? What do you mean? Oh!”
“Monty, Penny,” Linus replied. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Oh Linus, what’ve they done to you?” Penny mewed, her gloved paws finding her cheeks.
“Acquainted are we?” Nurka rasped, looking between all concerned. “Small world.”
“Brute!” Penny scolded him. “Brutes, all of you!”
“Be quiet and fly, madam!”
“I will not! Not if this is how you carry on!” Penny insisted, clutching at her dress, “I’ll… I’ll… why I’ll not pull another cord, and nor will my husband! I absolutely will not stand for this.”
“Sweetpea-”
“Shut up, Monty!” Penny hissed, then to the hyenas, “If you’re going to hurt anyone you might as well make good your threat and throw me overboard!”
“Now Penny-”
“Stand up for yourself, Monty! Really, I mean it!”
Glancing at Nurka, Themba stomped over to the cats and grabbed Penny by the arm. “As you wish!”
“Let me go, you brute! Let me go!”
“I say, paws off!” Monty said. “Let her go-oof!”
Themba shoved him away and holding Penny fast dragged her towards the gondola’s left side door. “We had best lighten the load, Madam. Out you go!”
“No!” Linus barked. “Please, leave her, be!”
“Themba!” Nurka snapped, the white moth fluttering at his shoulder. “That’s enough.”
Grinning broadly, as if this were all an exhilarating game, Themba indicated to Reg. “The rat can fly us, Chief, him and yourself. We do not need these insufferable cats, even less the Howler weighing us down.”
Nurka reiterated, “Behave yourself.”
At length, Themba released Penny back to Monty’s care with a flick of the paws and a menacing growl.
The cats embraced each other.
“This Howler might matter to somebody,” Nurka said, looking to Linus. “He certainly matters to our pilots. Another hostage cannot hurt.”
Themba pushed the cats back towards the controls. “Get back to work! Go on!”
Monty led Penny back to the controls and they corrected course, engines revving and cords tugging. As the landscape shifted like a painted theatre backdrop being rolled onto set, a distinctly grey smudge panned into centre stage, like a distant, low-lying cloud.
No cloud, but surely a town– Hummelton Town.
“That’s it!” Nurka woofed, walking to the window. “That’s Hummelton.” He looked to the cats. “How far away is it?”
Silence.
“How far, cat!”
“Not sure,” Monty replied at length, tapping the altimeter. “At this height we can see maybe… fifty miles.”
Nurka searched the sea of twirling dials himself. “What’s our speed?”
Monty glared at him, but said, “Faster than it says. The wind is at our tail. I’d say we’re about half hour out from Hummelton.”
“Good. Good.”
A brief quiet.
“We’re rather early, wouldn’t you say?” Monty hazarded, chin up. “We’re not expected to fly over until noon. Might they not think something amiss-”
“Hah! Good! Let the wolves be surprised!” Nurka laughed, turning to Themba. “Check on the others, make sure the bl… that everything is in order.”
“Chief.”
Staring at Linus and shoulder-barging him on the way past, Themba tramped out the gondola and down the walkway, passing under the gas balloons arcing overhead, like a triumphal arch made of marshmallows.
Stroking his quivering moth to calm it, Nurka addressed the similarly quivering cats. “If you do not want to incur Themba’s temper again, leave the politics to me and speak only when spoken to.”
“He’s a brute, sir, as are you!” Penny snuffled from the control panels.
“And these Howlers who kill hyena cubs, Madam,” Nurka replied, gesturing at Linus, “are they brutes too?”
Linus frowned under his helmet, but kept his tongue.
“Yes, if true, then they are,” Penny admitted.
“Then you see, Themba and I have merely risen to the occasion.”
“Lowered yourselves, you mean. Two wrongs do not make right, Mister Nurka, and Linus here is a good wolf, he is no killer of anyone let alone cubs.”
Linus’s frown abated somewhat.
“He is a Bloodfang, madam, amongst the most fearful and brutal of the packs, do not doubt it,” Nurka argued, walking over to Linus, paws behind his back. He stepped left and right, inspecting the intruder, “Your pack seems to have given us the most trouble of all, Howler Linus, from Red-mist to our own Prince Noss, yours is a nest of traitors and deceivers-”
“The Bloodfangs are loyal to the Republic.”
“Even Amael?” Nurka seethed triumphantly, purple eyes widening deep in the sockets of his helmet. “You must know of his treachery to have even come here, Howler, there is no other way you can have known where to come.”
“Not at all. Many know by now and they are ready. Amael will fail, as will you-”
Madou grabbed the scruff of the wolf’s neck and pulled his head back, “Silence, scum!”
“No, no, Madou, let’s have none of that,” Nurka said, glancing at Penny. “We hyenas are not ‘brutes’.”
“No, Chief,” Madou replied, releasing Linus. The wolf glanced at him.
“You’re strong,” Nurka observed, leaning close. “I can feel your corona, Linus; it crackles like… Red-mist’s.”
“As does yours, Chakaa.”
“A compliment?” Nurka woofed, surprised.
“No,” Linus denied. “Truth.”
“Truth? Then whilst we’re about ‘truth’ are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Liar! Howlers always work in pairs.”
“My partner didn’t make it aboard.”
“Then how did you?”
“I jumped on the roof.”
“And your partner?”
“He was… too afraid,” Linus maintained.
Nurka laughed hoarsely. “Too afraid. Hahahaaahaha!”
Somewhat bemused by Nurka’s mirth, a thing he was not known for, Madou spoke up, “He’s telling the truth, Chief.”
“How do you know, Madou?” Nurka snapped.
“Because… because if there was anyone up there they’d be cutting air bags open to sink us, like this one was trying to before he fell. Our warriors did more damage by shooting at him; they put holes in everything. Luckily I stopped them or we would be crashing into the ground by now.”
“Indeed.”
Madou licked his lips and suggested, “You should let me take their rifles away, Chief. They don’t need them.”
Nurka glanced at the two indignant-looking hyenas standing guard, then turned to the windows and the growing smudge that was Hummelton. “I think we can trust them now there’s nobody to shoot at, Madou.”
Madou breathed deep, “Yes, Chief.” He looked at Linus, and drew his sword a little.
Linus shook his head subtly.
Reluctantly, Madou slid the sword back.
“Nurka, this is beneath the noble hyenas,” Linus said.
“Noble are we?”
“Yes! Rufus, Red-mist, taught me many things about you. He always said the hyenas were wronged and I agree. Think about what you’re doing-”
“By the Wind, Howler, I’ve thought about nothing else these past moons,” Nurka replied tiresomely. “Do you honestly think you’re going to change my mind?”
“And how is your mind, Chakaa, flooded with purple-imperium?” Linus said. “Do you even know what you’re about anymore?”
“I have never been more lucid.”
“Then listen! The Den Fathers have been warned, nobody will even be down there. Hummelton will be evacuated. You’ll look like
a mad fool and nothing more.”
“Oh? Yet here you are trying, failing, to stop me.”
Linus had no answer to that, save, “I’m merely the insurance policy; others are working below. Amael Balbus will not get away. It’s over.”
Nurka strode back and forth, stroking his moth, snorting, tail flicking, then in a fit of temper turned and thrust his skull-face into Linus. “Amael is nothing to me!” he seethed furiously. “And even if Hummelton is deserted, the point is it will remain so, uninhabitable forever. The plantations too will be rendered toxic as we pass over, just as the land in the hyena reservations has been by centuries of ashen rain, only this will be a thousand times worse. Where will your Den Fathers go, hmm? Back to Lupa? Let them scurry away! They will starve soon enough. Forget white-imperium shortages, Howler, your kind will squabble over mere food come the winter. The desperate little beasts will no longer be cowed when their bellies are growling. They will rise up against you, and Amael and Nikita, or even your Den Fathers, whoever is victorious, will preside over a warring wasteland. Wolfkind will live as roaches on a pile of ash whilst we hyenas return to the wilds where we belong!”
Silence, but for the propellers.
“By Ulf, Nurka, just listen to yourself,” Linus spat in disgust. “Like a cub throwing a tantrum.”
Nurka stepped back, blinking at the rebuke.
Linus looked past him. “Did you hear that, Monty and Penny?” he called. “Rendered uninhabitable, he said! We’ll all starve to death! I know you wouldn’t help him do such a thing for all the honey in Hummelton. What’s he told you, that they’re dropping silly propaganda leaflets? All these years of planning for some door-to-door sales pitch, don’t make me laugh-offaaagh!”
Furious, Nurka silenced Linus with a plasmatic punch to the gut, bending him double.
“They’ve… got… black… imperi-gagh-aaagh!” Linus wheezed, as Nurka kicked him in the side with a second plasmatic blast, sending him flying against the wall. “Gaagh! Cagh! Pleh!”
Madou stood by, one paw fondling his sword hilt, sweat dripping off his nose. He was a moment from acting when Penny stepped in.
“Mister Linus!” she shrieked, running over and falling upon the squirming, smouldering Howler. “Stop it, you brute!” she scolded Nurka. “Stop it this instant! We’ll do whatever you want, just leave him be!”
The furious, panting Nurka whirled away. “See… see how they lie, madam?” he rasped, pointing and laughing. “Black-imperium, he says! This wolf is so confounded by Lupan propaganda he believes us to be the monsters, not they who slaughter us like silkworms! You saw the leaflets. You saw them, didn’t you? Say you saw them!”
“Yes! Yes I did!”
“And do you think we’d print out a million leaflets of lies just to deceive two puny cats?”
“No!”
“Then you will fly this ship?”
“Yes, of course! I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t kill him! Please! No more violence.”
Nurka looked to a gulping Madou then down on the weeping Penny. “Nobody need die, Madam, as long as you cooperate. Now back to your post.”
Leaving the groaning Linus where he lay, Penny slunk reluctantly back to the controls, her dress stained with Linus’s blood. She looked at Monty, unable to speak for tears and shock but conveying her wide-eyed horror.
“Don’t try anything,” Reg warned them. “I’m watching you.”
“Is it true, Reg old boy?” Monty sniffed. “Are we carrying the black stuff?”
“Look, just stay on course, Monty. It’ll be over soon.”
“Answer me, sir!”
“It’s just leaflets! That’s all it is. The Howler’s a filthy liar. They all are.”
“Not Howler Linus,” Monty maintained stiffly, reaching across and taking Penny’s paw. “Right, Sweetpea?”
“Right you are, dear.”
“Ready?”
“If you are Monty.”
With a nod from each cat, Monty turned the wheel as fast he could and Penny tugged every cable in reach.
“What’re you doing?” Reg piped. “Stop it! Get off the controls! Nurkaaaa!”
Monty shoved the rat away and continued to spin the wheel until it was hard over. The Nimbus trembled, lurched, its engines whining in pain as the outside world rolled and tipped at a crazy angle. Nurka, Madou and the two other hyenas stumbled across the gondola, clinging to poles and cables, whilst Linus slid to the far side and into the wall.
The ship groaned metallic groans, cables snapped and felitium bags split, but Monty clung to the wheel with Penny.
“I love you Monty!”
“Hold on, Sweetpea. Hold on!”
*
A white, open-topped Hummel car pulled up in a green field. Inside were Grand Howler Vladimir Oromov and the Consort Angus, husband of Cora.
“There it is,” Vladimir said, standing up in the open car and shielding his eyes.
Angus stood up as well.
Together he and Vladimir watched a distant silver lozenge twist and dip alarmingly.
“It’s going down!” Angus woofed excitedly. “Hahaaa your boys did it!”
“Maybe, sir,” Vladimir replied guardedly.
Several trucks rumbled across the grass, passing the white car and parking nearby. Each one drew an artillery piece behind it; handsome green and white-painted imperium cannons that resembled antiques compared to the modern vehicles that towed them.
Crews hopped from the back of the trucks, little beasts one and all. Rats, mice, rabbits and more, dressed in smart white military uniforms with tall hats. They were not Politzi, as far as Vladimir understood matters, but rather members of Hummel’s little beast army; the Everdor Guard. Hummel always was a little different to the Lupan packs, but with such a large territory to police they needed lesser beasts to behave, even participate. What better way than to make them feel valued and included by allowing them to fight for their own country?
The idea had merit.
One day they might even give their little beasts a vote, Vladimir chuckled in his head.
Some of the wee beasts were armed with ram-rods, others carried imperium charges and cannon balls. They set about decoupling the artillery from the trucks and lining them up at Angus’ instruction, each pointing at the distant dirigible. The charges of imperium and cannon balls were piled up and rammed down the barrels, in that order.
“Stand ready, lads!” Angus commanded, peering through some silver binoculars. “She’s still well out of range.”
Vladimir looked behind at the walls of Hummelton and the ancient Den towering at its heart. He could hear distant music and fanfare.
The opening ceremony had begun.
*
“Yes it’s all true,” Adal said, his white face all but glowing in the dark alcove, like a disembodied theatre mask.
Even as Howlers passed behind, busily heading to and from the Opening Ceremony, Cora was unable to keep herself from spluttering, “Adal, this is outrageous even for you!”
“I had no choice but to stay silent, Cora.”
“You could have come tae me! We’re old friends-”
“And you’d have sat on it, would you?” Adal derided quickly, and with uncompromising gall. “Not investigated, arrested, nor breathed a word to any beast?”
Silence.
“No, thought not.”
The tall, black Cora loomed over the short, brown and white Adal, “Ah could have cancelled the flyover, or set an ambush for THORN at the Buttle’s farm. Anything!”
Adal smirked, “Cora, you forget I didn’t know about THORN’s method of delivering our deaths, only the date. All that was known is that they had black-imperium and would use it today; everything else was a mystery. The rabbit you arrested has confirmed what Prefect Janoah only presumed. She’s very clever that Janoah. She and Vladimir between them cracked this case wide open; ALPHA will not forget or forsake them, nor should the Republic at large.”
Cora was una
ble to find fault with Adal’s smooth reasoning, except to say, “If the Republic even survives your reckless gamble, Adal.”
“Everything’s in paw, Cora,” he assured her.
Their clandestine meeting concluded, Cora and Adal swept back into the sunlight, climbing the wooden steps and rejoining the Den Fathers; Thorvald, Flaid and the Bloc pair, along with their ever-present Den Guard.
Amael was conspicuously absent.
The remaining leaders were seated in the highest tier of a grandstand, one of many erected in a rectangle within Hummelton Den’s extensive grounds. The many lesser Elders, Howlers and other relative riffraff sat in the tiers below. Then came Freiwolves, then little beasts, swarms of them, clustering like so many bees. After the ceremony, the Howlers would go about amusing themselves in town whilst the Den Fathers and Elders would take their place inside the Den’s great hall and get down to serious business – debating motions and voting.
Unless we’re all gassed, Cora thought.
As she sat amongst her equals, watching the uniformed Everdor Guard blissfully parading and trumpeting down below, Cora’s mind and heart secretly raced. She scanned the sky for the balloon and kept looking to Den Father Flaid seated nearby – the big wolf was still here and outwardly perfectly at ease.
If Adal was to be believed, Flaid numbered among the conspirators. Yet he had not fled like Amael. Was he innocent, outwitted, or suicidal?
“Now we watch,” Adal whispered to Cora.
“And pray,” she growled out the side of her mouth.
“If you must,” Adal sighed. “To the Wind god perhaps? He might blow THORN’s dirigible off course, though you can bet the hyenas aboard are praying just the opposite and the Wind is their god, not ours.”
Cora prayed to Ulf – as she did so a paw clapped on her shoulder. The Den Mother looked round and up, as if expecting Ulf himself to have appeared, a shining saviour.
Not Ulf, just a short black wolfess in a green blazer.
“Sara?”
“Mum.”
“Where’ve you been all this time? Where’s Brynn?”