‘I will, and remember, as always,’ the Night Badger unsheathed both of his glorious emerald axes, stood at the summit of his ship’s entrance, ‘you have my axes. For what they are worth.’ The fury and pride that beamed out of him dissipated and his shoulders slumped. Star knew the great warrior was hurt as much as the rest of them.
Star nodded his goodbye to the Badger and moved onto Shadowfang.
In truth, all he wanted to do was sleep, a month of nonstop planet-hopping had left him haggard. His features had noticeably thinned. Every puddle in the rainy and damp earth of Lupus revealed more signs of decay on his face. Once glistening ice blue eyes were now sunken into deep, dark bags that puffed out from his sinuous face. At a quick glance, Star could mistake himself for a black Fox. Still, he shouldn’t complain. The Band of Breeds had every right to want to know their homeworld existed and to the relief of everyone all their home planets remained unharmed. For now.
‘Farewell, Shadowfang,’ Star Wolf spoke loudly to avoid the humming of the engines drowning him out. He moved slow, walking on hind legs, from the first landing platform to the next. No sooner had he moved from platform one than Eurasian bolted upward, disappearing in the thick rainclouds above. Don’t fail me, Night Badger. He said a silent prayer to Lunalupus. Although he felt naïve for praying to their moon he couldn’t help it. He needed all the help he could get and if the Night Badger didn’t return he was doomed.
‘Fear not, Star Wolf.’ Shadowfang’s usual sultry voice of calm had vanished the moment the muscular Leopard witnessed the destruction of so many planets. As if something had snapped within the fearsome creature. His words now roared out, bordering on aggressive, savage. ‘I will return with thousands of Leopards. Mark my words. I can feel the fury of the Golden Temples from here. Tigris doesn’t know what it has awakened, Pardus is on the march. Give me three weeks and I will help you end this.’ The broad-shouldered Leopard revealed one of his glistening white canines and proceeded to scrape the tip across his palm, drawing blood. Star watched, open-mouthed, as Shadowfang squeezed his paw allowing a handful of blood drops to fall into the muddy green grass of Lupus. ‘My blood and your world are intertwined. Our fates are bound by blood.’
Shadowfang dropped to all fours and moved into the belly of his ship, Nightstalker. The craft was easily the most impressive space vessel Star had ever seen. Its hull was matte black, reinforced steel, bulky and imposing. While stationary on platform two’s tarmac Nightstalker sat atop four enormous tyres, which could transport the craft just as well on land as in space. And yet the most impressive feature of the vehicle was the numerous circular guns mounted everywhere like the spots of a Leopard. Each circle housed a dozen or more brownish-grey cannons, part embedded within the hull, making the entire vessel look like a Leopard with inverted colours. Leopards were famed for their strength, some believing they were the strongest big Cat in the galaxy, and as such they ensured their vessels matched.
If Shadowfang returned with thousands of Leopards, aboard even a dozen of these ships, then Star would believe in their chances of success. At this stage it was a big if.
The rain hammered away, Star’s muzzle was soaked through, even his House of Wolves leather ensemble had let the damp in. One more goodbye then rest. A deep rumbling from within Nightstalker got the craft hovering above ground in seconds, before the four wheels retracted inside to leave a silky-smooth black undercarriage that shot up vertically.
Most of the Wolves had departed around Star Wolf.
As always Star’s best friend, the stocky black furred River, bundled along after him. Behind him trailed Sky, silver fur slick with rainwater and though she feigned a smile Star knew her lavender eyes housed a multitude of pain. Ash was the final Wolf tagging along. The signs of age were upon the veteran Wolf and grey hairs mottled his dark fur. And yet the trio had barely spoken to Star Wolf in the past month, everyone treated him differently now, as if scared of him for some reason.
‘It’s just a Fox,’ a flabby black Wolf said as Star moved towards platform three.
‘Yeah, that ship’s not a patch on Nightstalker or Eurasian,’ agreed a skinny, short silver Wolf.
Both the Wolves were just teenagers, from some lowly upbringing no doubt given the shabby woollen rags they wore. They had come to the landing area, a square mile of tarmac carved out within the heart of the forest, to gawp at the Band of Breeds and their spaceships. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t meet Star’s wrath.
‘Just a Fox is it!’ Star rounded on the pair of young Wolves. Their eyes went wide as they gazed up at him. ‘Is this all a game to you? Are you ranking your favourite heroes? You need to grow up, we’re at war!’
Silence followed.
Pattering rain, a rhythmic beat, clattered away in Star’s mind as he bristled, spinning to meet dozens of glares from the Wolves still present. He couldn’t be sure if it was rainwater or tears streaming down Sky’s face, he suspected both. River’s bared teeth showed how he felt about Star’s harsh words to the youths. To his horror, he realised he was taking his frustrations out on a pair of innocents. What am I doing?
Ash’s reaction was the worst, the old Wolf closed his eyes, sighed and walked away, never turning back.
The teenage Wolves stood before Star; the fatter Wolf’s teeth chattered before his friend whacked him in the ribs. ‘We’re sorry, sir, we didn’t mean any disrespect to the Fox.’
‘None taken.’ The Scarlett Fox stood beside Star Wolf. Every member, bar the hulking Brown Bear Kodiak, of the Band of Breeds had an uncanny ability to sneak up on anything they wanted. It was a trick Star needed to learn. ‘If I was a Wolf pup, I wouldn’t think much of a meagre Fox.’ The Fox’s grin spread wide, which was disconcerting given how small and slim his face was, razor-sharp white teeth set within a face of bright reddish-orange. ‘Though to be a fan of a Badger, that’s worse, surely? I mean if I were the ruler of the Wolves and found two youngsters hero-worshipping a Badger, I might seek to hand out punishment.’
Star couldn’t help but chuckle as the Scarlett Fox teased the two terrified Wolves. Quick as a flash the Scarlett Fox had pulled a long piece of cherry wood, almost the size of his entire body, from behind his back and swung it forward to land directly between the two young Wolves. ‘Run along little Wolves,’ encouraged the Scarlett Fox.
The Wolves duly obliged and were greeted with nervous laughter from the remaining Wolves. Star recognised fake laughter when he heard it, it wasn’t something he wanted or hoped to ever hear during his reign as Wolf leader.
‘Stop teasing them, hadn’t you best be off?’
‘Quite, though do allow me some indulgences along the way. It’s going to be a morose road from here on out.’ The Scarlett Fox’s words were always just above a whisper, pitched perfectly for the intended recipient. ‘I, too, will be back in three weeks, with as many Foxes as I can muster.’
‘How many do you think that’ll be?’
‘Hard to say, I’ve not been home for quite some time.’ Star’s gaze dropped to the tarmac. ‘But let me reassure you. One Fox ship is worth a dozen clunky, cumbersome Badger ships and dare I say it even a match for an impressive Leopard vessel.’
‘How so?’ Star wasn’t convinced, and to his shame realised he, in part, mirrored the feelings of the teenagers. Grow up!
‘Stealth, darling.’ The Scarlett Fox waved a hand across the flank of his spaceship, Fantastic. ‘There’s a reason they look like needles, you know.’ He moved toward the back end of the craft, the whole thing shaped like a thin tear, the nose the thinnest part. ‘Our ships are cunning and sly, they can navigate anywhere and anyhow, big advantages, don’t you agree?’
Star nodded, which brought another wicked grin. The strange Fox played with the dirty white bandages he wrapped around both forearms and palms. They were odd items, not in keeping with his fine, long burgundy gambeson, which lost its cuffs under the scruffy white material. For some reason the Fox always wrapped bandages around his long bushy orang
e and white tail. He was an allusive and enigmatic creature.
‘Good luck to you then.’ Star was tired of this now and soaked through. ‘See you in three weeks.’
The Scarlett Fox bowed theatrically and departed Lupus; his ship so quiet Star didn’t even realise it had taken off until he turned to see platform three empty.
‘Sir.’ A barrel-chested Wolf bounded up to Star, at first on four legs for speed but then up on hind legs to give the appropriate salute. ‘You have a message from the Council of Worlds.’
‘Very good,’ Star responded, walking back toward his father’s, no, his, castle. It was still taking some getting used to being ruler.
‘THE WINTER TIGER HAS delivered on his promise,’ stated the hologram of the Goat Master positioned in the middle of the tabletop.
Star and his Wolf advisors sat around, back at the House of Wolves, in one of the many meeting rooms. The gigantic circular table seated thirty plus Wolves, and none of them had missed the fact Star Wolf had allowed River and Sky to sit at his left-hand side. Even Ash, having spoken out against Star’s departed father, got a few grumbles of discontent. It seemed Star might have some internal politics to handle before heading out to track down the Winter Tiger; who had gone to ground since destroying so many worlds.
Everywhere Star looked he saw hardened, battled scarred faces but the main
unifying factor was age. They were a pack of old Wolves.
‘And you’re sure of this how?’ asked Ash. His dark fur was littered with tinges of grey and white twitched as he spoke.
‘We sent our Bear envoys out on recon missions and every food planet we came across was guarded by Tiger vessels,’ the Goat Master paused, the hologram flickering as he coughed, ‘battleships.’
The word sent a shiver up Star’s spine and a rumble of complaints around the smoky, stone meeting room. There were too many torches lit in the room for Star’s liking a stuffy and stifling space that was getting smaller by the second.
‘How many?’
‘Which planets?’
‘Meat planets?’
‘Vegetation planets?’
The questions erupted from all around the table.
‘Was one of them Darkchurch?’
The last question dragged Star out of the hazy spin he was enduring; he really
needed to eat.
‘Yes, what of Darkchurch?’ asked Star Wolf, suppressing the urge to cough.
Silence returned to the room.
Star noted the numerous fire pits burning around the edges of the stone room, being stoked by attentive young Wolves in their pristine House uniforms. No wonder I need to hack my guts up!
‘There has been no sign of Darkchurch, nor any communication from any Tiger vessel. All they have done is fire warning shots at any of our ships that draw too close. The shipping lanes are—’ the Goat Master stopped, putting a hand to his mouth and the other to his forehead. He began sobbing.
‘Go on,’ said Star Wolf.
‘Full of dead ships, from species beyond count, most blown to pieces. The Council of Worlds has been cut off from our supply planets. I fear the council is finished for the foreseeable future.’
More rumbles threatened to overpower the room.
Star raised a hand and stood, which brought about an obedient silence. They may have been old Wolves, but they understood loyalty, even in fractious times. How long that would endure under Star’s rule was anybody’s guess. He suspected he had a limited timeframe.
‘Goat Master, Wolves, there is no need to panic.’ He strolled around the backs of the chairs, tapping his claws on the tall wooden backs as he went. ‘Most planets have sufficient supplies for years to come. We have that window of time to ensure the Tigers are brought to justice.’
The Goat Master’s diminutive, heavily robbed frame nodded. The Council of Worlds were now confined to their own planets. Even the Goat Master had been forced to return to his homeworld.
‘Let’s get started, shall we?’ Star Wolf beamed a defiant smile, betraying the fact he wanted nothing more than to vomit on the fat white Wolf sat beneath him.
‘Here, here!’ roared the Wolves.
3. The Boredom of Winter
‘Build me more AWB’s.’ The Winter Tiger cuffed a pathetic, sweaty Tiger slumped on his knees on the factory floor. The weak Tiger’s vacant expression only served to intensify Winter’s fury. ‘Atomic,’ another back hand, ‘World,’ a jab to the cheek, ‘Bombs.’ An open pawed swipe inflicted five gashes that oozed with blood. The Tiger nodded and scrambled away on all fours, despite his heavy black work overalls, bolting behind a glowing smelter whose heat created wavy lines throughout the factory. I’m surrounded by idiots.
The factory workers went silent. Over one hundred Tigers stared at the Winter Tiger. Many folded their broad, scarred arms over their black work overalls, the extent of their defence of a colleague and their resistance to the Winter Tiger. Cowards.
His limbs tingled and he wiggled his claws, desperate for someone to step forward and challenge him. A champion could reside within the factory district. Winter himself had risen from a lowly upbringing to the highest echelons of the Tiger ranks, reporting only to the Elder Three. They were Tigris’s ruthless leaders and Winter was their chosen general, their right-hand across the galaxy. Their power was absolute, for now.
Metallic clanks and working machinery slowed to a near standstill within the smelting factory as more Tigers came to watch. Still, Winter remained a statue, in the middle of the concrete. His eyes darted from Tiger to Tiger to seek out a worthy opponent.
‘General Winter, how good of you to grace us with your presence,’ said the shortest Tiger Winter had laid eyes on in a long time. A chubby, thin-haired Tiger waddled closer, his thick rubber working boots plopped along in comical fashion. The Tiger, who introduced himself as Longbone — the irony wasn’t lost on Winter and he suppressed a chuckle — had bug eyes, extenuated by robust black glasses. He rambled on at length about how delighted he was to have the Winter Tiger in their factory. A lowly little place, that Winter had never thought to visit and yet it was the eleventh of its kind he had entered in the past few weeks. All in the name of progress.
The Winter Tiger raised a paw to silence Longbone.
The midget Tiger obeyed.
‘All of you back to work,’ demanded the Winter Tiger. We’ll fight another day perhaps.
The factory workers submitted, and the rattle of industry amplified back to a deafening decibel. ‘Longhorn, is it?’ Winter didn’t wait to be corrected. ‘You’re aware we have detonated one hundred-sixteen AWB’s?’ Longbone nodded. ‘And you’re also aware that was our entire stock?’ Longbone was sweating profusely but still managed to acknowledge with another nod. ‘And we were given one by the Council of Worlds, and that too has been used?’ Longbone bit his lip so hard a spec of blood appeared but still he agreed. ‘Then might I ask why, since then, no more have been produced?’
A handful of Tigers milled around pretending to work by busying themselves with menial tasks, three of them had picked up two-foot steel pipes and rolled them in their hands with menace; they thought the Winter Tiger hadn’t noticed. He saw everything around him, always.
‘Uh, uh, uh.’ Longbone was lost for words and flapped his skinny arms, his black overalls wafted around. ‘We weren’t told to build anymore.’
‘And if I didn’t tell you to breathe, would you stop?’ Winter’s smooth tone was pitched for all to hear, he spun a full turn to ensure the words caught everyone’s attention.
‘I uh...’ Longbone’s cowardice and general personal hygiene, an odour like rotten eggs, were too much to endure. Quick as a flash the Winter Tiger grabbed the podgy factory manager by the throat and hoisted him up in the air, crushing his windpipe in one fluid motion. He was disappointed to witness the metal bars drop one by one from the Tigers who’d initially sought to wield them.
‘Build me Atomic World Bombs, as many as you can. Do your part and send the
materials on to the necessary factories. There’s much work to be done.’ The Winter Tiger strolled out of yet another factory on Tigris, longing to get off his homeworld.
THE MONTHS FOLLOWING the most memorable act in the history of the galaxy should’ve been paved with action, battles and open war and yet Winter had had to endure the tedium of dwelling on Tigris. Day after day spent roaming the golden paved streets of the capital, all to ensure the masses were about their tasks.
Tasks set by the Elder Three.
‘Their wisdom is infinite,’ Winter muttered the words sprawled in crimson across a vast black flag swaying atop a nearby tavern. So many buildings within the capital housed such signs of obedience to the Elders, and yet nowhere housed adulation for the Winter Tiger. Not that he truly desired banners and awnings sprawled across Tigris to praise his name, he knew he’d already done enough to secure his place in history; and yet it wasn’t enough.
He wasn’t top of the tree.
Every golden street housed rigid black structures — houses, factories and bars — all uniform and designed with a specific purpose. The city ran like clockwork, an invisible golden fist ruling over every Tiger that dwelt within the city. Monotony was something that bored the Winter Tiger. Any Tiger that crossed his path as he walked the streets nodded and ducked out of his way. Even fierce young Tigers with great promise gave him a wide berth. His was a legend that lived in the hearts and minds of the Tigers. Who needs plaques and flags!
The Winter Tiger ran a paw against the nearest building, a nondescript chemist that sold all manner of cures. Each potion or pill designed to get Tigers back to what they did best, furthering the Tiger race. Cool metal under hand reminded him of his real home on Tigris, beyond the almost never-ending ocean the Misty Ice, the northern tip of the planet. Humidity plagued the city of late, and with it came swarms of bugs in all shapes and sizes. Every one of them drawn to the sea of red lights scattered around the city, another source of tedium for the Winter Tiger.
The Winter Tiger Page 2