Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “I’m just allergic!” Bruno growled.

  “Allergic? To imperium?” the Howler laughed. “Hahahahaha! By Ulf, your poor boy. What lies have you been told by that long-ears?”

  “He’s my dad! And he’s no liar!”

  Her laughter fading, the Howler stepped a little closer, until Bruno could see her helmet and the imperious red fangs glowing on her cheeks. “You really believe it don’t you?”

  Bruno just pouted.

  “Do you believe us to be monsters then?” she mocked. “Are you a monster?”

  Bruno didn’t know what to say.

  “No,” the Howler answered for him, “You’re just… Bruno Claybourne. So why would you become a monster the instant you donned the mantle and helmet? Why would any of us? On the contrary, as a Howler you could protect those you love. Make a difference in this cruel world. Leave a mark.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Until I rot… right?” Bruno said plainly.

  The wolfess tipped her head back in understanding. “Is that what you’re scared of? Well, we’re all going that way, even the healthy die. Better to live as the dayfly than the nymph, Bruno.”

  Frowning in bafflement, Bruno looked down. “But I’ll be hated,” he snuffled, with fresh grief. “Sara… I’d lose her. She hates the Howlers; everything about ‘em; even her own family!”

  “Then she’s unworthy of you!” the Howler huffed, as if she knew who Sara was. Then again, perhaps she did. “Only small-minded, petty beasts hate that which they do not understand. That you didn’t spurn Rufus despite him being a Howler and your father a little beast who’s doubtless filled your head with vitriol and hate shows how worthy a wolf you are. You saved my husband’s life and for that I’ll help you all I can.”

  Bruno’s ears pricked. “You’re… J-Janoah, aren’t you?”

  “My name precedes me; no doubt Tristan’s doing,” Janoah hummed, unsurprised. “Look, I won’t lie to you, Bruno, being a Howler’s no picnic. You have to get up really early, you get told what to do all the time and you have to train constantly. It’s rather like… boxing, actually.”

  Bruno’s ears pricked and Janoah smiled.

  The apparently all-knowing wolfess went on, “But without us Lupa would fall into ruin and with it the Erde entire. We alone stand against the tide of war and disorder. Anyone can shoot an imperium pistol and kill a beast these days, but only we can turn raw imperium to our will and control the fabric of nature itself. Such power makes us invincible to all but our own kind, and by own kind I mean not only Howlers, but Valours, Chakaa, Kodas, even Seawanders – you know what they are, Bruno?”

  Bruno shook his head.

  “Well it’s not just wolfkind with this power, you know, many races have it, and they’d all take our place if we let them. It’s your duty to use your Ulf-given gifts to protect our race’s rights. Don’t join the ranks of dodgers living in Lupa’s underbelly, scavenging rancid imperium to live and gazing vacantly at walls, make something of yourself!”

  Silence.

  “The sting of imperium’s not so bad,” Janoah soothed, walking close and cupping a paw to Bruno’s cheek. “Once your induction’s out the way you’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Bruno looked down at his feet and nursed his arm. Every inch of him ached. He smelt of blood and fear. It would be easy to give in.

  So very easy.

  “All right,” he exhaled, nodding and forcing a crooked smile. “All right, Howler. You win.”

  Janoah gasped a little; relief tinged with surprise. She placed a ruddy paw on Bruno’s broad back. “Come along then, let’s get your wounds seen to. I’ll have to introduce you to our other imperiologist Doctor Josef. He’ll fix you up and, when you’re better, perform the induction; he’s the best in the business.”

  Bruno limped along, hardly listening.

  “Can you walk back to our Den?” Janoah asked him, taking stock of his wounds. “I can call a car.”

  Bruno seethed, “I’m fine, Howler.”

  “What a brave chap you are,” Janoah praised, ushering Bruno down the alley. “I can see we’re going to get along handsomely, you and I. We understand each other.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m good to my wolves,” Janoah said, “You’ll see.”

  “Yeah.”

  Howler or no, Bruno dwarfed this wolfess, as he did most beasts, and that’s what he was counting on.

  “Oof!”

  A good shoulder-barge from Bruno’s muscled bulk sent Janoah stumbling clean across the narrow alley and into a pile of garbage. It was Bruno’s wounded arm that did the shoving, but no matter. Suffering through the excruciating pain he sprinted headlong down the alley.

  He made the end alive and sped down another, then another, the walls, windows and doors of houses whizzing by either side, dirty puddles exploding underfoot. He stuck to the back streets, out of sight, knowing all he need do was escape from Bloodfang territory. Greystone, Eisbrand, it didn’t matter where he wound up, his crime wouldn’t carry over, he would be free.

  It wasn’t far now, just a few blocks. I’ll barge that Bloodfang at the territorial gates out the way. Maybe Gunnar is still on duty. He’ll help me. Yeah.

  Bruno rounded the next corner and leant on the wall to rest a moment. He peered back, checking if he was being followed. There was no one. Commanding his battered body to move, he turned to trudge down the next alley.

  “Ragh!”

  As if by sorcery, Janoah dropped from above and was on Bruno in a split-second, one paw pressed to his chest. She stayed her actions, her bright green eyes narrowing slowly, challenging Bruno, daring him to try that again.

  With a boxer’s speed and strength of paw, Bruno whipped his good arm up to bat Janoah’s touch away.

  Too slow.

  Pffzaack!

  The Howler’s white cloak billowed outwards as a bolt of imperious plasma instantly shot up her arm and into Bruno, punching him across the alley and against the far wall with all the force of an invisible wrecking ball. With a yelp the big wolf bounced off the rough bricks at a crazy angle and flopped to the unforgiving cobbles, coming to rest in a puddle enriched by a swirling rainbow film of imperious ash.

  Time passed; Bruno’s world span.

  Spitting blood and rank water he tried to rise, to stagger away, but as he found his feet a smart gaitered boot thumped him right in the side, and with it another explosion of imperious energy. Bruno was sent against the wall a second time, before falling on his back. Plasma licked over his trembling body and played between his teeth. His whole skeleton throbbed in pulsing waves, as if he were being run through a giant mangle again and again.

  At last the pain subsided.

  Smouldering chest heaving fitfully, the dazed Bruno lifted his bleeding head, tried to focus.

  “Stupid boy,” a blurry Janoah tutted at him, the ash-laden moon hanging behind her like an apparition. “Still, I expected nothing less from such a splendid candidate.”

  Bruno fell back, let go.

  “Dad,” he growled, staring into nowhere, into blackness and beyond, “Sara.”

  Chapter 10

  Uther led the way to the bright facade of the cinema and queued at the ticket office, which was occupied by a particularly bored-looking pig squished into the tiny booth.

  “Whatcha wanna see?” Wild-heart asked his colourful little posse, glancing at the posters.

  “Somethin’ romantic,” the golden Lorna swooned, hanging on his arm with her elegant gloved paws.

  “Puh!”

  Linus stepped back and read the well-lit marquee curving overhead. The diminutive Rosalina waddled over to him. “I like a bit of ‘orror meself,” she said. “What about you, Mr. Linus?”

  Linus remembered what Uther had said back in Riddle Den’s washrooms about watching a scary film. He pointed at the black letters stuck on the white marquee, “Night of the Spider Queen sounds like its ‘orror, I mean horror.”

&n
bsp; “Ooh, yes!” Rosalina giggled shrilly. “And it’s on again in ten minutes, look.”

  “Oi, hurry up!” Uther called, as he and Lorna reached the booth.

  Linus hurried over with Rosalina in tow. “Night of the Spider Queen?” he said, giving her a glance; she nodded.

  Uther looked at his fellow Howler, eyes wide. “Nah, nah,” he dismissed, waving a paw. “That sounds krap, mate. How about something… romantic, yeah?”

  Leaning on Uther’s shoulder, Lorna scoffed, “Romantic? You puh’d me for suggesting that a second ago.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “You did!”

  “Look, we’ll see what you wanna see, Lorna. I don’t really care.”

  “Is that right? Then I wanna see Night of the Spider Queen,” Lorna cackled, with a mischievous air. “Sounds a real hoot, hey Rosalina?”

  “Ooh yeah!”

  The hog crammed inside the booth cleared his throat to hurry the wolves along. Uther cast his eyes over everyone, Linus, Lorna, Rosalina. “Fine, whatever,” he said, rolling his muscled shoulders and tugging at the chest of his shirt. He addressed the hog, “You heard the lady. Four fer… Spider Queen, or whatever it’s called.”

  The hog ripped off some pink paper tickets and went to take Uther’s money, but Linus pushed his comrade’s arm down and paid for everyone instead.

  “M-mmm-my treat this time,” he stammered.

  Beaming, Uther snatched the tickets, “Much obliged, mate,” and shepherded Lorna to the cinema entrance.

  “He’s cute when he stammers,” she laughed in Uther’s ear.

  “Daft more like.”

  Arriving in the foyer and wondering where his daft partner had got to, Uther looked behind and saw Linus had set Rosalina down on a bench and was tying one of her shiny green boots, which had, one could only assume, come undone. Rosalina was chatting away and scrunching up her nose, whilst Linus, down on one knee, nodded a lot.

  Lorna sighed, “What’re you doing, Uther, mixing a nice boy like that with the like of us Lupanar girls? You’re gonna ruin him.”

  “Puh! Lupa’s no place for a ‘nice boy’. He’s gotta male-up.”

  “But he might find himself a nice Freiwolf girl one day.”

  “Yeah, but he’s gotta live long enough first, Lorna.”

  Whilst waiting for Linus and Rosalina, Uther broke out another ember to ease the rot; raspberry flavour. Inhaling its heady vapours, Wild-heart felt a tingle shoot down his spine. Was it the ember vapours doing their work?

  Looking behind him, Uther spied a beautiful young brown wolfess in a pink coat, pink beret and white breeches. She was the only beast standing out in the open. She turned away, pretending she hadn’t been staring at Uther and was quickly joined by a little black wolfess in a green coat and similar breeches, but no hat. Chatting away, the pair took a seat on a bench together, the taller brown wolfess glancing Uther’s direction again as she did so.

  “Come on, Uther.”

  Wild-heart looked up from his musings; Lorna was beckoning him after Linus and Rosalina, who were already heading inside.

  At length, Uther rejoined the group.

  “Penny for yer thoughts?” Lorna said, looking at the girls and hanging on Uther’s arm.

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  As was the natural order of things, the confident Uther overtook Linus and led the way through the vaulted gold and red foyer to the appropriate theatre door. A rat in stripy red clothes tore their tickets and let them through with a tip of his cap. Inside, the screen was still draped in fancy red curtains and beasts of every sort were chatting away, though most fell silent as the intimidating Uther passed by.

  He picked out an empty row of medium-sized seats, appropriate for wolves and similar-sized races, and everyone filed in after him. It was right and proper that he and Linus should bookend the girls, and, consciously or not, they did so, thus were Lorna and Rosalina sandwiched between the boys.

  No sooner had they settled than the curtain raised and the lamps dimmed, as if the show had been on hold for them alone.

  Rosalina shuffled over and slipped a paw round Linus’s arm. “If I get frightened you’ll hold me, won’t yer, Linus?” she said.

  “I’m sure it’ll be all right,” he replied, pointing at the screen. “Anyway, the news reel comes first.”

  “Oh yeah!” Rosalina giggled, her hysterics punctuated by a snort. “Sorry. Been ages since a wolf took me to the pictures.”

  Linus asked, “Where do you usually go?”

  Rosalina gave him an incredulous look. “Well, upstairs to a room,” she said, tugging at her dress.

  Linus gulped and nodded. “I-I-I see.”

  Rosalina brushed a paw on his shoulder. “Oh, you are funny,” she marvelled.

  Mortified at his own stupidity, Linus looked down at his knees. “Sorry. I’ve never… uhm… I mean-”

  “Don’t apologise,” Rosalina hushed. She glanced across at the others and tactfully changed subject, “So how long have you known our Uther then?”

  Linus was grateful for the question, “Oh, just a few days.”

  “That all?”

  “I was only just assigned to Riddle.”

  “Well, Uther’s a good fella,” Rosalina said, scrunching up her little nose. “He’s very kind to us.” She cocked her head to one side and added with a shrug, “Not many are.”

  Linus thought back to that unfortunate wolfess on the street that Uther had given money to, and how abominably he himself had spoken to her.

  The projector started up, throwing a jittery off-white rectangle onto the screen. Scratches and dust grains flitted by at twenty-four frames a second, followed by an animated countdown, starting at five. Some of the audience counted with the film, including Rosalina.

  At zero, they cheered.

  The screen turned black, then opened in a vignette. An inky-black cartoon grasshopper in a bow tie popped up and leant on the interior edge of the vignette. He removed his monocle and winked cheekily at the audience.

  Linus had forgotten that in any self-respecting cinema the cartoon short preceded the news.

  “Charlie Cricket!” Rosalina ‘whispered’ excitedly, squeezing Linus’s arm. “Ooh, he’s my favourite.”

  “He’s a grasshopper, actually,” Linus blurted.

  “What?”

  “Oh, uh… well, everyone says cricket, but he’s clearly a grasshopper.”

  “Whatcha mean? It said cricket up on the screen.”

  Linus forwent modesty for a moment’s confidence, “I know my bugs, miss.” He pointed at the screen, as Charlie ‘cricket’ waltzed through a greyscale meadow on two legs, his other four tucked behind him, as if he were a civilised beast rather than a mere mindless insect. “Charlie has a long face, look, and a narrow abdomen, and long legs. Crickets are much more… stout.”

  “Like me?” Rosalina said.

  “Well, and me,” Linus admitted, “Uther says I remind him of a woodlouse.”

  “Woodlouse? Why’s that?”

  Once Linus had explained why, Rosalina laughed aloud.

  Lorna elbowed Uther and whispered, “They’re getting on like a fire in a silk barn.”

  “Good,” Uther sniffed. “Cub needs loosening up.”

  Wild-heart raised his paw to hail the passing snack vendor; a peachy-furred young wolfess in a racy red and white-striped skirt.

  “Pot of honey-roast crickets please, love,” Uther whispered gruffly, winking at her like Charlie Cricket.

  “Anything else, Howler?” she asked in a chipper voice – she obviously recognised a Howler’s physique when she saw one despite the civilian clothes.

  Smiling, Uther looked to Lorna, “You want anything?”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  The beaming Uther was given a stripy pot of crickets and paid up, telling the vendor to keep the change. He immediately took a very-dead, very tasty-looking, honey-glazed cricket and popped it in his mouth, crunching noisily away.


  Back on screen, the well-to-do Charlie Cricket was accosted in some spooky-looking woods by a mysterious stranger in a cloak and broad-rimmed hat – a fortune teller, according to the rickety old sign. They chatted in musical intonations for a while, until the stranger invited Charlie into his wagon where a crystal ball waited. Charlie sat on a stool, long, spiky legs crossed, and turned his pockets out onto the table at the stranger’s insistence. Amongst the paperclips, bottle caps and far more ridiculous paraphernalia, yo-yos and springs amongst them, was a glowing imperium pearl which, reluctantly, Charlie gave up as payment.

  Pocketing the pearl, the cloaked stranger waved his baggy sleeves about until the crystal ball exhibited a future Charlie rolling in piles of riches beyond his wildest dreams and throwing corn over his head. The grasshopper leant close to the ball; eyes so wide in joy that his monocle fell out on the floor, forcing him to bend down and retrieve it.

  Suddenly the stranger threw off his cloak – he was a hideous spider with eight eyes, eight legs and huge dripping fangs. He was covered in spots and sported a mane that clearly resembled a hyena’s. He had a hyena’s dentition too, Linus thought, and spiders didn’t even have teeth.

  Back in the real world, Uther fumbled his tub of crickets, scattering a few of the sticky bugs over the carpet. Lorna glanced at him, but thought no more of his unusual clumsiness.

  Meanwhile Charlie was clonked over the head by the spider and the screen faded to black.

  The animated hero awoke in a spider’s web and looked about. The spider was chopping vegetables nearby and adding them to a broiling pot over an open fire. The chef’s cap did nothing to alleviate the spider’s menacing appearance, or Charlie’s worries, evidently.

  With a ‘pssst’ the well-to-do grasshopper beckoned the savage spider over and whispered in his ear. After enthused nodding on the spider’s part, Charlie was plucked off the web by his captor and stood upright, though he was still mostly bound in silk. Nonetheless he stood on one foot and started playing his legs like a violin. The spider enjoyed it immensely and clapped along with six out of eight arms until, against his will, judging by his baffled expression at least, he took to dancing around the campfire. Charlie’s music was simply too catchy to resist.