Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  The train stopped entirely, then began to slowly reverse.

  “Do we need to reverse for leaves?” Duval scoffed, standing up. “Something’s wrong, Amael!”

  The door leading forward opened and a Howler entered the lounge carriage, his rapier drawn.

  Janoah recognised him, tall, white, icy-eyed.

  It can’t be, can it?

  Elder Duval approached the newcomer. “Howler, what’s going on up there? Why are we revers-”

  Kffssst!

  Casually flicking his sword against Duval’s head, the Howler administered an effortless blast of imperious energy, sending the Elder down at a stroke. The Den Guards stationed about the carriage drew their swords, but the Howler drew a pistol and aimed it squarely at Amael.

  “I won’t shoot our Den Father unless you give me an excuse!” he bellowed, specifically to the Den Guards, staying their action. “Though by all means try me!”

  Amael woofed incredulously, “Donskoy?”

  “Surprised to see me, Elder?” Ivan Donskoy replied. “I’m sorry, ‘Den Father’. You do move unseemly fast. Vito’s not even cold yet.”

  A second Howler limped into the carriage. He was brown-furred and armed with a rifle. He leant heavily against the doorway and took aim at Amael.

  “Keep the Den Father in your sight, Gunnar,” Ivan said.

  “He’s going nowhere, mate.”

  Amael growled, “What is this?”

  With Gunnar backing him up, Ivan relaxed his aim a little and responded, “You tell me, you seem to be in a terrible hurry to go somewhere.”

  “We’re on our way to Lupa,” Amael maintained, adding triumphantly, “to take the city.”

  “Are you, by Ulf? Your appetite for power only grows with the eating.” Ivan gestured at the passing scenery, “As you can see, sir, there’s been a change of schedule. We’re going back to Hummelton, where you will be arrested for the murder of Den Father Vito.”

  “Humph!” Amael woofed. “You fool, Ivan, Uther was the one who killed him.”

  “At your command; Gunnar and I will testify to that.”

  “And convict yourselves?”

  “We have no choice. You have no intention of allowing us to live so we’ll at least take you with us. Tell me, Den Father, would you have sent assassins after our assassins, and then more after them? Where would it have ended?”

  Janoah leant forward, “What’s he talking about, Amael?”

  “Nothing. He’s deranged!”

  Ivan continued, unfazed, “Since you tried to kill us you must have no wish to get Rufus out of Gelb. You never had. You want him gone so you can have his wife. Well take her by Ulf! He never wanted her anyway!”

  Janoah scowled, but remained silent.

  Amael laughed, “Rufus is already out of Gelb! I had him extracted myself.”

  “Liar.”

  “Jan, tell the wolf before he bursts a blood vessel.”

  Janoah dipped her chin, “It’s true, Ivan. Amael had the hyenas rescue Rufus.”

  Silence. Ivan’s icy eyes twitched.

  “He did it for me,” Janoah added, standing up. “He did it before you boys even killed Vito. I told him to recall you, but he didn’t. Getting rid of Vito had nothing to do with Rufus, that was a ploy to get you and Uther-”

  “I rescued Rufus all the same, didn’t I?” Amael interrupted. “I could have left him to rot!”

  Janoah could not deny it.

  Amael continued, “He can have his expedition, everything! Once things settle down, that is.”

  With that, the Den Father addressed Ivan. “Blade-dancer, listen to me. If we go back to Hummelton we’re all dead, including you! One whiff of the air back there and you’ll rot. It’s a dead city now, full of dead beasts! Nobody will be arresting anyone.”

  “What do you mean, ‘dead city’?” Ivan seethed.

  Confident he had Blade-dancer’s full attention; Amael slowly turned around and sat calmly in a red chair, as if it were his throne. “I’m the last Den Father,” he sniffed pompously, spreading his paws. “THORN has taken care of the others; gassed them all with black-imperium dropped from a, how do you say, ‘dirigible’.”

  Even as her brain reeled from confirmation of her hunch, Janoah remembered to play the part, “Dirigible?”

  The ‘last Den Father’ waved a paw, “Details, my love, details.” He looked to Ivan, Gunnar, the others Elders, everyone, “What matters is that I am the most powerful, legitimately elected wolf left alive. Not only that, but the Warden of Gelb and I have been stockpiling venom in a secret location for years now. Unfortunately for the Warden he’s dead. No fault of mine; the hyenas did that all by themselves! Happily that means I am now also the only beast who knows where to find the white-imperium necessary to feed the insatiable Howlers over the next few months. Gelb is in total disarray and you can bet THORN will try and cut off imperium and food supplies completely and lay siege to Lupa to get their way. I know Nurka’s mind; he wants to overthrow wolfkind, rule Lupa. But I shan’t let him, nor will I let ALPHA take over Lupa from within! Nikita thinks he’ll be in charge now Adal’s dead, but he must either bow to me, or bow out of existence. They all must. The packs will hold out for a moon or two under newly elected Den Fathers, but they’ll all rot without venom. Howlers will defect to the Bloodfangs in droves; we will be the only pack in town giving out imperium. Then our pack will rule, a one-pack Lupa. Just think of the possibilities, Ivan! No more petty fighting over scraps of that stinking city. No more civil wars. We’ll project Wolfen power outwards, into the wilds, across the sea, spread our influence across the whole world! This is a difficult birth and many will die, and… I regret that, but it’ll be worth it. I promise you.”

  Amael offered a stone-grey paw.

  “Now, Ivan, for Ulf’s sake, wolf, let’s not fall out over a little housekeeping! You can have any district you like, any territory even. Elder Ivan! Has a nice ring to it.”

  Silence.

  “Rufus is with us,” Amael claimed afresh. “He’s safe with the hyenas, which I’m sure you’ll agree is to his liking. He’ll have his expedition, as I’ve said. You wouldn’t go against Rufus would you? Of course not. Now, put that pistol down and have a drink.”

  Pistol quivering in paw, Blade-dancer looked desperately to Janoah. “Is it true?” he asked. “Are you and Rufus in with this… this mad wolf?”

  “Ivan I….”

  Janoah’s brow twitched.

  There came a new, coiling corona, reaching invisibly and yet ever more powerfully into the carriage. It stayed Janoah’s heart, her lips, her very mind.

  “Stenton?” she whispered.

  Strange sounds erupting from the aft carriages put everyone on edge. There was a battle taking place back there; swords clashing, plasma snapping, wolves yelping.

  The aft carriage door slid open and a smouldering Howler staggered inside. “Mon-ster!” he coughed, collapsing.

  Then the huge, grey form of Janoah’s Eisenwolf ducked inside, chest heaving, backpack puffing ash.

  “JAN?”

  “Rafe!”

  Everyone, Elders, Den Guard, Amael and Janoah, all turned from lowly Ivan to face this new outrage. Most could scarce believe their eyes.

  Gunnar lowered his rifle. “The Eisenwolf who killed the sewer centipede,” he said. “They said I dreamt it. I knew I hadn’t. I knew!”

  Ivan slowly backed up.

  “So it’s true!” Amael growled. “ALPHA’s resurrected the Eisenwolves. That meddling mad cat Josef!”

  Janoah huffed, “He’s mine, actually, Josef just… helped.”

  “Yours, Jan?”

  Fearlessly, Janoah hurried around the chairs and over to Rafe, as if greeting her cub at the school gate.

  “YOU ALL RIGHT?” he asked, shielding her at once.

  “I am now,” Janoah replied, standing with him. “How did you get aboard?”

  “I JUMPED.”

  A nod, a chuckle, then Janoah slowly manoeuv
red herself behind her towering Eisenwolf. “I’m… sorry, Amael.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I can’t go any further with you. You’re right; nobody will be arresting anyone. It’s better this way.”

  “What’re you talking about, wolfess?” Amael demanded.

  “Rafe they’ve killed everyone,” Janoah said, turning to her champion. “Your little friend Sara; she’s dead.”

  Rafe’s blank lensed gaze stared down at Janoah, ears pricked. “WHATCHA MEAN? I-I JUST LEFT HER-”

  “All of Hummelton’s dead, Rafe! THORN has just this minute dumped black-imperium on the whole town using a balloon. All the Den Fathers, the Alpha, Sara, everyone. They’re all gone.”

  Whilst Rafe fathomed the depths of this horrific news, Janoah nodded at Amael and the conspirators, “These wolves arranged it. They cannot be allowed to live, or they will take over Lupa. Do you understand what I’m saying? You must eliminate them.”

  “You bitch!” Amael seethed.

  “OI!” Rafe snarled ferociously. “MIND YER MOUTH!”

  “Don’t you talk to me like that! I’m a Den Father! You lay a finger on me and you’ll be executed!”

  Ignoring Amael, Rafe asked Janoah, “IF YOU’RE RIGHT, SHOULDN’T WE TRY AND ARREST ‘EM?”

  “For who?” Janoah woofed. “There’s nobody left to pass sentence against them! There’s only you and me standing between the Republic and a dictatorship.”

  “BUT-”

  “You said you’d trust me whatever happens, whoever stood against me. Remember? Don’t forsake me now, Stenton!”

  Shaking his head, then nodding his head, Rafe raised a gloved paw. Plasma began to snap and arc between his metallic fingers, seemingly without effort.

  “IN THE NAME OF THE REPUBLIC,” he said, “I SENTENCE YOU ALL TO… TO….”

  “To death,” Janoah finished. “Get ‘em, Stenton!”

  Amael raised his paws, “Wait! Wait a minute! I can give you anything you want. Anything!”

  “GRRRAAAGH!”

  Rafe cast his paw forward. The air rippled and warped as a wave of coronal energy twisted along the carriage in a heartbeat. Chairs overturned, tables tumbled, windows smashed and wood panels splintered. The wolves standing nearer than Amael were knocked on their backs, but the Den Father stood firm. As imperium gas lamps flared and exploded all around him, Amael pulled his pistol and fired; the pellet bounced off Rafe’s chest.

  “Kill him!” Amael commanded. “He’s only one wolf!”

  Everyone grabbed their pistols and opened fire in kind, peppering Rafe and the carriage behind.

  “GET DOWN, JAN!”

  Janoah, sword drawn, scrabbled into a corner, whilst Rafe advanced, foot over metal booted foot. Before he got near the Elders, the loyal Den Guard barred his path, a wall of cloaks and blades. Rafe reached behind and drew his sword, the blade disconnecting with a snap and spark of plasma that caused everyone to flinch. He brought the sword round in both paws and said, “YOU’RE JUST DEN GUARD, DOING YOUR JOB. YOUR LEADERS ARE CROOKS; YOU DON’T HAVE TO FIGHT FOR THEM.”

  Silence.

  “PLEASE!”

  With everyone’s attention drawn aft, Ivan grabbed Gunnar and slipped away to the next carriage. “Come on.”

  “Shouldn’t we do something?” Gunnar grunted, as he hobbled through the dining car with Ivan’s help.

  “Against that monster? I ran him through and he’s still alive. And don’t think we’re not on Janoah’s hit list too. We know too much.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s right, though,” Blade-dancer said, looking for viable escape options. “It’s better this way.”

  He noticed the trees and fields fall away outside, replaced by the placid, flat calm of Lake Hummel. The train was crossing an arm of the lake on its way back to Hummelton, the track being raised above the water on thick wooden stilts.

  “You have to get off,” Ivan said, peering out the windows. “I trust you can swim.”

  “With a hole in my gut? Sure! No problem, mate.”

  “You’ll be fine. It’s shallow enough.”

  “Wait… what about you?”

  Declining to answer, Ivan opened a door and looked down at the shimmering marshlands blurring by beneath him.

  In that instant, he saw something utterly bizarre reflected in the waters – a fiery, smoke-billowing, silvery fish!

  What?

  Baffled, Ivan looked to the sky and witnessed the very moment a burning, skeletal airship silently nose-dived into a forest on the far side of the lake, perhaps a mile or two distant. It collapsed and disappeared behind the tree line amidst flames and smoke.

  “Schmutz!” Gunnar whistled.

  On that expletive, Ivan pushed the young Greystone out the door.

  “Woaaaagh!”

  Gunnar aquaplaned across the marshes and rolled to a stop in some muddy reeds.

  Ivan shut the door and dashed through the dining car, then the catering car and on through an empty service car. He ducked through the dark, tunnel-like tender, passing bunkers of glittering green-imperium ore, then stepped into the noisy cabin of the clunking, hissing, ash-bellowing imperium engine.

  The train this way was deserted but for a stripy badger driver in orange coveralls.

  “You again, Howler?” said the stout, blinking creature, turning to Ivan and pushing up his ash-stained goggles. “Everything all right back there?”

  Ivan ran his icy eyes along the complex mass of levers, valves and pipes over which the badger had dominion. “Can we go backwards faster, citizen?”

  “Faster? Yes, Howler. The engine runs as quickly in reverse as forwards.”

  “How? Show me.”

  “Hooohoo, an enthusiast are we?” the friendly badger whistled.

  “Absolutely,” Ivan maintained.

  Touching an anonymous-looking lever with one hefty paw and pointing at a red valve with the other, the badger explained. “This lever here, sir Howler, controls the direction of the imperium flow, that is backwards an’ forward. An’ that big valve there opens up the flow; more means faster.”

  A nod. “Open it up.”

  The badger hesitated, “Oh. Well, w-www-we mustn’t go too fast, sir, we’re coming up on Hummelton. Don’t wanna crash into the station now do we. Hohooo!”

  Ivan clapped a paw on the badger’s shoulder, “If you’ll forgive me, citizen.”

  “Forgive you? What for-wooooooh!”

  The Howler grabbed the driver and forcibly ejected him from the cabin. Not even waiting to see him splash down in the marshland below like Gunnar before him, Ivan returned to the controls and opened the ‘big red valve’.

  The engine began to accelerate backwards, Hummelton looming larger with every more rapid chug.

  Satisfied, Ivan touched his kristahl rapier to the valve.

  Pffzack-k-k-k!

  With long, stuttering snaps of plasma, he welded the valve in place. He did the same to the lever, melting the very steel with bolts of energy – live or die, nobody was going to undo his work.

  Meanwhile, the lounge car had degenerated into chaos.

  “Die monster!” a Den Guard hollered, throwing himself at Rafe Stenton, only to be swept aside by that great sword and sent slamming into the wall.

  Immediately, a second Guard attacked, taking advantage of Rafe’s clumsy over-swing and jabbing at the Eisenwolf with his rapier. The tip stuck fast in the metal cuirass, but did not penetrate.

  Rafe grasped the rapier’s tip in his metal paw and bending it away channelled plasma through it, into his attacker. The shocked Den Guard staggered away, arm numbed and burning, his rapier falling smouldering and warped onto the carpet and quickly setting it aflame.

  Smoke mixed with Rafe’s ash-belching exhaust and spiralled around the carriage ceiling, before being sucked out the broken windows. The whistling wind cleared the air but fuelled the flames, which licked up heavy red curtains and across the splintered wood panelling.

  Still t
he fight continued. Janoah watched as Den Guards and Howlers presented themselves to her champion as space allowed, loyally offering up their lives to keep the monstrous Eisenwolf from the Elders and Den Father Amael. One by one brave wolves fell against the walls and furniture, slashed, burnt and broken, a terrible sight, a terrible waste. Rafe’s heaving armour became streaked with blood and ash as he cut down all in his path like a whirling imperium-powered farm implement that had careened out of control.

  One of the Den Guard threw himself at Rafe, barging him into the growing conflagration that was consuming the right wall. If anyone thought fire would stop an Eisenwolf they were sorely mistaken, the only part of Rafe that suffered any damage was his black Howler mantle. The cloak quickly went up in flames, melting like wax and emitting a dense vapour that rolled unnaturally down across the floor.

  Strange, Janoah thought.

  “Rafe!” she gasped. “Rafe, run! Get out of there!”

  Not waiting, Janoah recoiled across the carriage and shut the door behind her. Tuned to Janoah’s voice, Amael heard her warning and slipped quietly into the dining car.

  Both parties watched through the door windows as Rafe leapt free of the fire in fear of his life even though it could not hurt him. The heavy black gas coming from his cloak swirled in his wake, the tattered material falling away in smouldering, molten shreds. The Eisenwolf looked around, expecting to be set upon by the Den Guard, but found instead the remaining Bloodfangs falling about the place, coughing and spluttering beneath their helmets.

  What in the world?

  One of the Elders removed his Helmet in a desperate attempt to breathe. He fell upon Rafe, clinging to him with blackened fingers, his mouth, nostrils, tongue and eyes black and bleeding, the flesh falling away in decaying strips.

  “Haaaaagh! Help meeheeee!”

  Rafe stood rooted with fear, metal chest heaving rapidly, adrenaline reeking on his breath, unable to move or think as the spluttering creature before him fell rotting and gurgling at his feet. The mighty Eisenwolf dropped his sword and fell backwards over a burning chair, tumbling, yelping, head over backpack into the thick of the dense black cloud pouring across the carriage like an evil fog.

  I’m dead, he thought. I’m a dead wolf!

  Meanwhile, Amael about-faced and hurried through the dining carriage, upsetting the beautifully-set tables and chairs as he rushed between them, fleeing the sight of his fellow conspirators melting alive.