Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  Surprised, Rafe snorted, “Why not?”

  Glancing at the door, Meryl whispered, “Because it’s impartialist material. It’ll give you ideas, ideas that, knowing your big mouth, you’ll spout at the wrong wolf, like Horst. After what’s just happened it’s best to keep quiet awhile.”

  Rafe spread a paw, “It’s your book, Meryl.”

  “Yes, well… everyone around here already knows what I think; no point hiding it now. But you’re different. You frighten them, you know, Horst and all that.”

  “Eh?”

  “Your power, Rafe; I-I mean a wolf like you could….” Meryl checked herself. “Well, never you mind. Peaceful change is the right way to go. Just take THORN! Their pamphlets have done more damage than any amount of black-imperium. Even Silvermane’s convinced and Rufus says he didn’t believe a word of the rumours coming out of the Reservations before. Now whether the Den Fathers were even aware of the atrocities or not, the whole world’s seen those pictures. Things have to change. They’ve got to, by Ulf!”

  Rafe sat listening throughout, mighty arms folded. “I love it when you get all political,” he said cheekily.

  Meryl blushed and cleared her throat. “Your porridge is getting cold, mister.”

  No sooner had Rafe popped open a jar of honey and spooned some onto said porridge than up reared a giant bee, its spiky front legs snagging the sheets like fishhooks.

  Bvvvt!

  “All right, Toggle?”

  Bvvt! Bvvvvv!”

  “Whatcha want, mate? Honey?”

  “Of course she does; it’s all she has eyes for,” Meryl huffed. “She had her head in my lavenders whilst you were away, which is right and proper for a bee, only she’s so clumsy she ended up trampling them all down!”

  “She’s a big girl,” Rafe maintained, pushing the jar within reach of Toggle’s searching proboscis. Upon locating the jar she rapidly lapped up its contents. Rafe, meanwhile, lapped up his porridge in great big spoonfuls.

  Meryl pulled up Rafe’s chair and sat, watching the outsized duo eating in harmony together. “You look so well. I can’t believe it.”

  Rafe flexed an arm, “I feel well, like a new wolf.”

  “I don’t understand it, but I’m not going to complain.”

  The Eisenwolf munched away, then said through a raised chin and mouthful of porridge, “Oi, how’s Jan?”

  Meryl looked down and away. “Same,” she sighed, tugging her apron. “Broken bones and a bad temper. She can’t stand missing out on the arrests. Rufus visited yesterday and I heard her tell him that Silvermane’s going to ‘steal her glory’ by rounding up the conspirators. He told her that’s nonsense; she was there on the train with you, stopping Amael. Silvermane was here, shuffling papers and likely waiting to see how the wind blew – the Alpha’s no fool, he knows Janoah’s worth.”

  At length, Meryl enquired delicately, “Rufus wanted me to ask you; are you sure it was Ivan you saw on the train?”

  “Yeah! It must’ve been.”

  Meryl looked incredulous.

  “Jan saw him too!” Rafe woofed at her.

  “That’s not what she’s saying, Rafe, not even to Rufus.”

  “Look, he was right in front of me; a tall white wolf. He killed Amael in a single stroke! Gotta be Blade-dancer, right?”

  “Well, according to Janoah, Amael saw his plan had failed, then went mad and crashed the train on purpose. She says he cut his own throat, though not before throwing a black-imperium bomb at his allies. She only just escaped death leaping from the train.”

  Rafe dropped his spoon in his breakfast with a splodge. “Who’s gonna believe that schmutz?”

  Meryl exhaled, “Who’s to question it? Everyone’s dead.”

  Rafe tugged his napkin off and threw it down. “Aww, she’s making me look like an idiot, Meryl! I remember it clear as day. I remember everything this time. I dunno why, but I can picture the whole thing. There’s no fuzzy wall. I was fighting ‘em all, then my cloak set fire and… and….” Rafe trailed off at some awful memory Meryl was not privy to. “For once I wish I couldn’t remember,” he said, staring into the face of that wolf, rotting alive.

  “Rafe,” Meryl said gently, brining him back, “have you considered Janoah might be protecting you?”

  “Protecting me?”

  “Yes. It’s no small matter to have killed those Elders, even if they were conspirators, and even if it was an accident. You could get in trouble.”

  “But… I had to fight. For the Republic, Meryl. Jan said so. We thought everyone back in Hummelton was dead and Amael was gonna take over.”

  A nod.

  Clinging to the hope that Rafe really was just confused and Janoah’s unlikely story was the correct one, Meryl took Rafe’s nearest paw and said noncommittally. “Just talk to her first before you make any more statements to Silvermane and the others. Get your story straight between you. Janoah’s many things, but she does care about you.”

  “Yeah, I know that Meryl.”

  “Yes,” the nurse said, “I was perhaps just reminding myself.”

  Bvvvt!

  Clink!

  Down went Toggle, and down went the jar, falling off the bed and breaking.

  “Toggle!” Meryl scolded, to no discernable effect.

  Whilst Toggle trundled off to clean her shiny face, Meryl snatched Rafe’s napkin and set about cleaning up the sticky mess, complaining mildly. “For Ulf’s sake, what kind of stupid beast adopts a giant bee anyway?”

  Rafe innocently poured some tea and tucked into his breakfast apple.

  As Meryl collected sticky glass shards and placed them on the napkin, the sounds of shouting and pistol fire echoed across ALPHA HQ.

  “Halt!”

  Crack! Crack!

  Glancing at Rafe, Meryl hurried to the door and peered outside just as boots squeaked loudly along the corridor towards her.

  Right into her!

  “Oh! Rafe!” Meryl screamed, as a big mottled in bundled her into the room.

  It was Grand Prefect Nikita!

  Rafe pushed the tray aside and threw the sheets from his legs.

  “Don’t move, or I kill her!” Nikita barked at him, then at the Prefects arriving at the door to Rafe’s room. Swinging Meryl round and holding her close to him with both paws pressed to her face as if trying to crush a melon, the fallen Grand Prefect backed into a corner and snarled. “I will bake her brain if anyone move!”

  Silvermane pushed to the front of the Prefects. “It’s over Nikita.”

  “Stay back!”

  “There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Get rid of them!” Nikita said, looking to the other Prefects. “You know I will do it, Silver! You know it! I have nothing to lose!”

  “Do as he says,” Rafe said, shouting, “Do it!”

  Raising his paws to calm everyone, Silvermane dismissed the other Prefects from the doorway, leaving just himself and Rafe inside. “Now what, Nikita?” he scoffed. “You’re only making this harder than it needs to be. Confess and-”

  “Shut up, maggot!” Nikita bellowed, plasma playing on his fingers.

  Meryl squirmed, “Aaagh! Rafe!”

  “Stop it!” Rafe begged. “I’ll do whatever you want!”

  Now he had everyone’s attention, Nikita set out his desperate stall. “Then get your suit, Eisenwolf.”

  “What?”

  “Someone fetch Josef!” Nikita snarled. “You will wear your mantle and escort me out of Lupa and kill anyone who gets in our way. If not… I roast your little wench’s head like baked potato. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, mate. I understand. Just calm down. Don’t hurt her. Please.”

  Silvermane snorted, “You’re out of your mind, Nikita.”

  “Shut up and get the suit, Ulf damn you!”

  Rafe glared at Silvermane, thus Silvermane told his Prefects, “Get Josef Grau. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  Shaking the helpless Meryl, Nikita snapped, “The suit!”<
br />
  “Rafe can’t pop it on like a hat, you fool,” Silvermane explained. “You will have to let him go to where it’s stored and wait for Josef to dress him. It takes time.”

  Nikita nodded. “Then I will go with him to where it is stored.” He flicked his muzzle, “Now get out and go down the corridor. Leave your pistols on the floor, all of you. Leave me a loaded one.”

  Silvermane shook his head, “I will not arm you.”

  “Do it! Or you will be responsible for her death. Do you hear that Rafe? It is his fault if Miss Stroud dies. You know who to blame, who to kill when you go mad with grief. I know you will. You are already insane, Eisenwolf.”

  Whatever he thought, Rafe nodded at Silvermane. “Do as he says, sir. I got this.”

  “Stenton-”

  “Please!”

  Sighing, Silvermane drew his pistol and placed it on the floor, then backed out the room and down the way with his Prefects.

  Once they were some distance away, Nikita flicked his head. “You first, Eisenwolf.”

  Rafe stood up from the bed, a tall brown tower of muscle and sinew. Intimidating now as always.

  “Slowly!” Nikita warned, backing off. “Paws up!”

  “Yeah. Yeah. No problem, mate.”

  Rafe went to the door, stepped over Silvermane’s pistol and out into the hall, his paws up, feet patting on the floor.

  “Stop!” Nikita instructed. “Stay there.”

  A nod.

  Nikita shuffled Meryl towards the door and grabbed the pistol. He checked it was loaded and with one paw grasping the scruff of Meryl’s neck aimed at Rafe. Now he had them both in his power.

  “Lead the way, Eisenwolf. Try anything and I shoot you and kill her after.”

  Rafe started to walk towards Silvermane and the others.

  “Back off!” Nikita threatened them, pistol wagging. “Get away, all of you!”

  Silvermane and the Prefects did as bidden, retreating as quickly as Rafe advanced.

  As he walked backwards, Silver read Rafe’s furious features, watched his brow twist, his tongue lick his nose. One could almost see the gears of his mind whirring. Would Rafe chance turning and blasting Nikita? He might kill Meryl along with him. Even knocking them both down might give Nikita time to retaliate. One thing felt assured; this situation would not hold, someone or something was going to snap.

  Oblivious to the drama, Toggle traipsed merrily after Meryl in pursuit of her endless quest for honey. She bumped into the back of Nikita.

  Bvvt! Bvvvvt!

  “Eugh!”

  Nikita booted the bee savagely away, sending it spinning across the hall on its back.

  “Don’t!” Meryl said. “She won’t hurt you-”

  “Shut up, wolfess!”

  Confused, Toggle flipped to her feet no worse for wear and came back. Her clawed front feet grasped both at Meryl’s dress and Nikita’s legs, like a needy child.

  Bvvvvbvv!

  Disturbed by the quivering creature’s many needle-like claws tugging at him, the Grand Prefect turned and administered a more powerful, plasmatically-charged kick, ejecting Toggle down the hall.

  “Get away!”

  Bvvv-vvvvv-v-v-vvvvv!

  Toggle flailed around, useless wings buzzing, legs kicking, sting protruding from her heaving abdomen.

  Then something snapped.

  Amidst the momentary distraction, Meryl elbowed Nikita and twisted herself away.

  “Oof!”

  Head down she ran for all she was worth. “Rafe!”

  The Eisenwolf whirled round and sweeping Meryl into one arm raised his other paw.

  Crack!

  The desperate Nikita fired at them, the pistol pellet streaking down the hall, hot and glowing.

  It slowed unnaturally, impossibly, as if the wobbling, transparent coils of imperious power leaving Rafe’s corona affected even it. The missile hit neither him nor Meryl, but exploded in sparks against the wall to their right.

  Rafe’s furious will tore down the hall, crossing the distance to Nikita in all of a heartbeat, cracking plaster and windows and thumping into the Grand Prefect like the fist of Ulf.

  “Gaaagh!”

  By a twist of fate, Nikita landed square on top of the flailing Toggle.

  Bzzzbzvvvbt!

  “Ahaagh!” Nikita yelped, rolling aside, his back arched in apparent pain.

  Free, Toggle righted herself and hurriedly climbed the wall to safety, whilst Silvermane and the Prefects thundered past Rafe and over to Nikita. They descended upon him, but soon they realised his gasps and wheezes were not of someone winded or protesting their arrest, but those of someone in greater trouble.

  Meryl peered past Rafe’s protective embrace and watched the Grand Prefect fit and twist and gasp for air.

  “Something’s wrong,” she told Rafe.

  “Meryl.”

  “Let me go. It’s all right.”

  Telling the baffled Prefects to give Nikita air, Meryl asked them to roll him over onto his front.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Silvermane demanded.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do something! If he dies we’ll lose vital information. I’d have shot him myself otherwise.”

  “I can’t do anything here,” Meryl replied. “Carry him to the ward. Quickly now!”

  The Prefects picked Nikita up and ferried him down the hall. Meryl glanced back at Rafe, who nodded and let her go about her work. Once she and Silvermane had gone, Rafe fell on his knees and nursed the arm he had used to project his imperious might. His bones and muscles ached and burned, as always; it was worse without the Eisenwolf mantle to help channel and enhance the energy.

  Rafe looked at the pellet in the wall, then his shaking paw, incredulous.

  “Your power grows, Stenton,” someone said behind.

  Rafe turned round and saw a stocky brown wolf with a pleasing white face standing over him.

  “Alpha, sir,” Rafe said, standing to salute with the modest ALPHA salute. “My Alpha, I mean.”

  Adal waved in kind then touched the pellet in the wall. “I saw everything,” he said, quickly withdrawing his finger and licking it; the pellet was still hot. “Very impressive, even for a wolf of your… imperious stature.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Yes. We’ll be sad to see you go.”

  “Go, sir?” Rafe replied, worriedly.

  Adal nodded, “Don’t you know? Janoah and Rufus came to some arrangement months ago.”

  Rafe just looked blank.

  “Typical of Janoah to keep it to herself,” the Alpha sighed, waving a paw. “Some deal Rufus struck on your behalf; his price for going into Gelb and all that. You’re to receive an imperium pension, in any case.”

  “Pension?” Rafe grunted, nursing and twisting his aching arm. “What’s that, sir?”

  “Sting rations, for life, without having to lift a finger ever again. You’ve earned it. Few do.”

  Rafe emitted a surprised snort.

  “Doesn’t that please you, Prefect?”

  “I… I haven’t thought about it, my Alpha.”

  “You can stay on of course; we at ALPHA will gladly have you. But we also keep our word, as Thorvald knows. I let Tristan off the hook, though he shall always be carefully watched that one. Once a stray, always a stray.”

  A nod – Rafe thought it best to nod despite his ignorance.

  Adal walked over to Toggle and stood beneath her, “This is your bee?”

  “Yes sir. Well, not mine exactly she just kind of… hangs around.”

  “I can see that.”

  Rafe said nothing, but smiled.

  Adal leant close, inspecting Toggle’s hairy, heaving abdomen. “Bees are supposed to die when they sting, aren’t they?”

  “I dunno, sir.”

  “Unless they’re a queen, of course. They can sting all they like.”

  Another shrug and surreptitious nurse of the arm; Rafe was no biologist. “She’s got a broke
n wing, sir,” he said, trying to spark conversation so as to not appear such a dunce in front of the great Alpha.

  “Yes. Just a small bit missing, isn’t there?”

  “She can’t fly, though.”

  “How sad. Perhaps there’s something Josef Grau can do about that. I’ll have to mention it, when he’s not too busy with that new wolfess.”

  Rafe frowned, but said nothing.

  After a thoughtful pause, Adal turned to Rafe and said afresh, “Apologies, I really must go. I need to speak to Prefect Janoah, or rather Grand Prefect Janoah, should she accept.” He looked at Toggle, “We’ve just had a position open up.”

  “Sir.”

  Saluting, the Alpha walked on, saying, “Have a good think about what you want to do. Whatever you decide, I’ll see to it the matter is closed.”

  *

  The Bloodfang car bumped across the Ashfall, passing through another chain-link fence guarded by Watchers, then on through the endless grey shanty towns that made up the Reservations. Hyenas peered out of tents and corrugated shelters, old and young, curious and fearful.

  What was a Howler limo doing here?

  Some cubs followed the car, running alongside it, waving and begging with paws cupped. The wolf inside eventually rolled down his window and tossed a chocolate bar to the nearest cub.

  “Share it!” he stipulated, rolling up the window.

  Within a few twists and turns, the car pulled up outside a nicer tent than the rest. It was one half black and the other white, as dichotomous as the beast lurking within.

  “This it?” the wolf asked, surprised.

  “Should be, Elder Oromov,” the hog driver replied.

  A Den Guard climbed out the passenger seat and went round to open Vladimir’s door – one couldn’t be seen dead opening his one’s door anymore.

  “The cubs, sir?” said the driver.

  Vladimir waved a dismissive paw and walked round the front of the car, heading for the tent. Two huge, grim-faced hyenas ducked out of the flaps and barred his path.

  “I need to see Prince Noss,” Vladimir declared. “I’m told this is his... abode.”

  No reply.

  “I’ve come to close our bargain-”

  “Close our bargain!” someone snarled inside. Noss burst from the tent flaps, as impressive in a mere sarong as he was when equipped in Howler attire, if not more so. “By the Wind, it is you! Get out of my sight, Vladimir. Get off my land before I have my hyenas tear you apart!”