by Adam Browne
“Clumsy,” Janoah tutted.
Rufus gathered them up. Three hyenas, he saw, big chaps wearing fine-looking leg armour of a striking dazzle-pattern tribal design with matching cloaks. They and their less well-dressed comrades were going about their business inside what appeared to be a warehouse.
“Who’re these handsome chaps?” Rufus asked his wife.
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Me? Haven’t the foggiest, dear. Bit hard to tell with those marvellous skull helmets.” Rufus peered at the pictures through a magnifying glass. “Hmm. Definitely Jua-mata.”
Janoah frowned, “Noss’s tribe?”
“Yes. Their crest is a painted hyena face, like a skull. Their warriors paint their faces the same. Quite terrifying.”
“That takes sense.”
It was Rufus’s turn to frown, “Makes sense, Jan?”
Jan explained, “According to witnesses, these three mention Noss at every opportunity. They say they’re avenging their prince; that the Howlers murdered him.”
“They’re right,” Rufus growled, “we did murder him!”
“It was an accident. Anyway, he tried to murder you first, or have you forgotten Noss’s attempted lupicide?”
“He should never have been racked, not in my name!”
Janoah slapped her chest, “Well it was nothing to do with me!”
“I know, I know. Let’s… not go over it again,” Rufus sighed, one paw held up. “It’s passed now.”
Janoah waited, then spread a paw at her husband. “So who are these three? Did you ever meet them back when you used to visit Noss and the tribes?”
“I don’t recall. They’re clearly Chakaa, though.”
Janoah let slip a few more details, “Well they’re in THORN; they might even be its leaders. We don’t know their names, but they’ve been involved in thefts all across Lupa; refineries, warehouses, even a train robbery. Strangely they only steal black-imperium; they leave the rest, even white, though they take purple sometimes.”
Rufus nodded, “Yes, I know. They’re probably after making a black-imperium bomb.”
“You ‘know’?”
“We’ve had raids down Riddle way. All the hyenas poisoned themselves, but they weren’t Chakaa, or at least they didn’t have eisenglanz armour like these three.” After a pause, Rufus added acidly, “Of course, such kristahl weapons and eisenglanz armour are rare in the tribes, especially since we’ve stripped them of all their heritage and left them naked on the Reservations-”
“Save your bleating for those in charge,” Janoah interrupted.
“You’re in ALPHA, aren’t you?”
“It’s the packs who manage the tribes; it’s nothing to do with us. We stick to interior matters.”
“What was the point of joining ALPHA then? I thought you wanted to make a difference?”
“I want to protect Lupa!”
“You did that well enough before.”
“Rufus, must we go through this every time we meet?”
Silence.
“My point is,” Rufus continued from before, “perhaps these chaps have inside help.”
“Inside? You mean a Howler?”
“Someone who can get hold of eisenglanz and kristahl, yes, or perhaps locate the ancestral Chakaa armour that Lupa confiscated. Either way they would have to be high up to move that kind of material around; Grand Howler at least, possibly even an Elder.”
Janoah pursed her lips and looked down, taking it all in Rufus supposed, then she looked up again and moved on, “Witnesses say they’ve got purple eyes, though they also report they seem fairly lucid, so they must be young.”
“Not necessarily,” Rufus countered, tapping the photos with a finger. “The Chakaa cope with purple-imperium better than we do.”
“Not that much better.”
“Some have very a high tolerance for it. Noss did. They prefer it to white-imperium, it’s not such an affront to the gods to use it – less sacred than white, which is the tears of the Sky, of course.”
“Of course it is.”
“Anyone would think you’ve never read my work on hyena culture, Jan,” Rufus sighed.
“I’d brush up on it, but it’s best not to be seen indulging in anything you’ve put your paw to, dear,” his wife claimed drily. “Not if one wants a long and productive career-”
Brrrring! Brrrring! Brrrring! Brrrring!
Janoah glared at the telephone on Rufus’s desk, then at the wolf himself. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
“Mm?” Rufus said, preoccupied with his thoughts. “Oh, it won’t be for me.”
Brrrring! Brrrring!
Janoah cast a paw about, “Isn’t this your office?”
Brrrring! Brrrring!
“Yes,” Rufus all but shouted, “but I’m never here. It’ll be a wrong number.”
Brrrring! Brrrr-
“Ugh!” Janoah lifted the phone and immediately slammed it down again. “There! Now I can hear myself think.” Peace restored, she returned to the question of the hyenas, “In any case, it’s only a matter of time before the usual Chakaa madness catches up with them. They must be pretty far gone to be contemplating a black-imperium bomb; even the mad Noss drew a line there-”
Brrrring! Brrrring!
“Ulf’s fangs!” Janoah cursed, snatching the earpiece and adopting her best telephone voice. “Rufus Bloodfang Valerio’s office, Grand Howler, winner of the Quin Medal and all round good egg. How may I help you?”
Rufus laughed a little and shook his head, “Flatterer.”
Janoah looked to her husband. “Grand Howler… ‘Vladimir’, you say?” she said with mock bafflement. “No, never heard of you. No, and I’m pretty up on my Howlers. Really? Well, I sincerely hope this isn’t a prank call, young wolf, or you’ll be in a great deal of trouble with your mother! Get me in trouble will you? Most unlikely.”
Rufus gestured with his fingers.
Janoah duly gave the phone up, saying, “It’s for you.”
“You’re terrible,” Rufus tutted, pressing the mouthpiece to his chest to muffle his words, before speaking lucidly into it. “Yes Vladimir? Yes, apparently I have a secretary now…. No, I can’t fire her…. No.”
Janoah chuckled as she listened in.
“What’s the problem?” Rufus asked, listening. “You’re joking!” he spluttered in surprise, looking at Janoah. “We were just talking about them.”
Janoah’s ears stood erect. There was a long pause as Vladimir spoke; the Prefect could hear his dulcet mumbles, but no clear words.
“What?” Rufus gasped, recoiling from the earpiece. “By Ulf, how’d he manage that?”
Janoah whispered impatiently, “What is it?”
Unable to concentrate on two things at once, Rufus held up a paw to his wife and spoke to Vladimir, “Yes I know what he’s like, but…. Yes, I see. Yes, well that makes sense, but these aren’t normal hyenas we’re dealing with, there’s some Chakaa about.” He held up one of Janoah’s photos, looking at the extraordinary hyenas. “Trust me, I know. Don’t ask me how, Vladimir, I don’t ask you for your sources.”
Janoah folded her sinewy arms, “He’ll guess.”
Rufus winked at her. “Hah! No, I haven’t seen Jan for nearly a month,” he lied, nodding and scratching an eyebrow. “Yes, I’ll be right over. Yes, of course I’m up to it, I’m not that far gone. I’ll be twenty minutes. Right. Just be careful.”
He hung up.
“Well?” Janoah urged.
Rufus leant on the desk with both paws. “THORN is raiding an imperium refinery as we speak.”
Those arms unfolded, “You’re joking! Where?”
“The one opposite Riddle Market, just across the river. Vladimir’s got them trapped.”
“Hah! Excellent!”
“Not really,” Rufus corrected, turning round and unlocking a wardrobe. He took out his Grand Howler gear, white mantle, silver armour, helmet and rapier, saying, “Uther went in
to spy on them and didn’t come out. They just threw his gear out the window apparently. Stupid boy’s got himself in deep trouble.”
“Is he alive?”
“I pray,” Rufus sighed, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “He’s a bigoted, foul-mouthed fibber sometimes, but I couldn’t be doing without him.”
Janoah calmly gathered her papers. “You can’t protect your boys forever,” she said, philosophically. “You’re a Grand Howler now. You have to learn to accept casualties.”
“And I thought you were fond of him?”
“He’s a capable wolf,” Janoah admitted, “I’ve other concerns these days.”
Rufus threw his waistcoat over the chair and said, “You’ve changed, you know that?”
Janoah pondered the comment. “Yes, I have,” she admitted, donning her perfectly black Prefect’s helmet, “but at least I can.” She turned around and opened the door, parting with, “You’ve yet to leave the comfort of your pond, nymph.”
*
Dialling ALPHA HQ, Janoah waited in the ornate, wrought iron telephone kiosk for a response. The rain lashed the windows, reducing the university campus beyond to a wobbling, distorted artwork of shifting colours.
“Grand Prefect Silvermane’s office,” a receptionist said, “how may I-”
“Put me through to Silvermane at once. Tell him it’s Janoah and it’s an emergency.”
“Please hold, Prefect.”
Janoah waited, fingers rapping on the window.
“Silvermane, here,” came a soothing tone.
“Sorry to disturb you, Grand Prefect,” Janoah apologised, “but I’ve located a THORN cell in action. There’s a raid on-going as we speak.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Bloodfang territory; the refinery near Riddle Market.”
“Your old district?”
“Yes. I have reason to believe the THORN Chakaa are there.”
“How comes?”
Janoah explained, “A Howler’s disappeared inside, a very capable Howler that I know personally. He may have blundered, but I think he’s been outmatched by something unexpected.”
“I see,” Silvermane hummed. “Then ALPHA must rise to the occasion. Do you think he’s ready for this?”
“This could be our best chance to catch THORN’s leaders, sir.”
“Yes. I’ll inform Josef then. I know this may sound ridiculous, but try and keep a low profile. The longer we remain a rumour, the longer we can operate unimpeded.”
Peering out the window Janoah spied what had to be Rufus dashing across the university grounds. She made no promises. “I’d better go, sir”
“Good hunting, Janoah. For the Republic Lupi.”
“For the Republic.”
Slamming the phone down, Janoah burst from the kiosk into the driving rain, pulling her hood up as she went. She hurried across to the university building, with its grand clock tower looming over all. Because of the award ceremonies taking place inside, not just for Rufus but for many an academic, there were a number of motor cars of all shapes and sizes parked up, some with drivers sheltering inside, smouldering amidst a cloud of vapours.
Janoah could have requisitioned any one of them, but settled on familiarity.
“Jan!” Rufus yelped, as his wife jumped onto the back of his Springtail. “What’re you doing?”
“I need a lift,” she replied, adding, “We’re going the same way, as in all the way.”
Rufus took a moment to figure that out. “I’ll be glad to have you, of course, but Amael won’t appreciate ALPHA interference.”
“Since when do you care what Amael thinks? Anyway, it’s only me and one or two others.”
With a worried grunt, Rufus started his Springtail.
Janoah slipped her paws around his waist. “My you’ve put on weight,” she mused, playfully pinching his stomach. “Watch that waistline, Valerio.”
“Do you want to walk?” Rufus growled.
“Hahahaha!”
With that, the wolfen couple pulled away onto the main road, black and white cloaks flapping about them.
They were followed at a respectful distance by another Howler on a blue monobike; a big fellow in Eisbrand livery and with a mighty sword at his back.
Chapter 17
Uther twisted his paws for the umpteenth time, to no avail; the stiff Howler-wire binding his wrists would cut into his flesh sooner than give an inch.
Defeated, the Howler leant his back against the warm, vibrating pipe to which he was tied and watched the hyenas clean out the refinery, lowering hefty black-imperium canisters into the sewers one by one. Uther figured there must be a bucket brigade of terrorists down there ferrying the poisonous imperium away as fast as it was coming; the hyenas above ground were but a fraction of the number.
Whilst the last of the spoils were spirited down the sewers by Themba and Madou, Nurka, most definitely their leader in Uther’s opinion, approached the wolfen prisoner, paws behind back, face hidden by his skull-adorned helmet. The hyena was the same height as Uther, but far heftier; even without imperium flowing through their veins hyenas tended to have the upper paw in strength, though not agility, what with their shorter, stouter limbs.
“Uther, the fastest wolf in Lupa, isn’t it?” Nurka rasped in his coarse voice, as if admitting to the fact.
Uther snorted in surprise, but nothing more.
Nurka sighed, “Not fast enough, it seems,” whilst looking Uther up and down. “Perhaps you’re losing your touch, Uther of the Bloodfangs. Perhaps the rot is setting in. This white-imperium shortage must be taking its toll, even on strong young Howlers like you. You must all be weak.”
“Is that THORN’s big plan?” Uther sneered. “Starve us of imperium? Pretty krappy idea if you ask me.”
“I did not,” Nurka said, with a shrug. “Nor am I about to discuss my strategy.”
“You will on the rack, mate.”
“You’ve to catch me first.”
“Oh, we will. Don’t worry.”
Nurka nodded, “In the event, my wolfen friend, I like to think I would hold out unto death on your vile torture machines, as our noble prince did.”
Uther laughed, “Prince? What prince is that then?”
In a flash, Nurka whipped a big paw round and slapped Uther across the face. “Prince Noss of the Jua-mata!” he barked. “Son of the Four Winds, husband to Princess Arjana and father of her sacred offspring!” Grabbing the scruff of Uther’s neck he pressed his metal helmeted snout against Uther’s soft wet nose and snarled, “You would do well to remember those you have murdered!”
He released Uther with contemptuous flick of the paw.
The Howler shook his head rapidly to correct his ruffled fur. “I ain’t murdered anyone!” he protested.
“You are a Howler, and by that token you have indirectly killed thousands of my brother and sister hyenas!” Nurka countered. He snorted beneath his helmet, eyes narrowing, “Once, you used to round us up and put us in the re-education camps. I was sent to one as a cub, put on display for the citizens of Lupa, filmed for your ‘propaganda’. Perhaps you’ve seen me before? We’re famous, you know, Themba, Madou and I. How we counted for the cameras. One, two, three, four, five! Hahahahaaa!”
Uther frowned as Nurka laughed.
“It was a long time ago,” the hyena sniffed, sobering up. “They… do not bother with trying to change us now. Now wolfkind just wants us gone, so the last camps have been knocked down and we’re starved and shot; re-educated in death.”
Wild-heart scoffed at the notion.
“You doubt my word?” Nurka said. “Of course; you do not want to believe your kind are so despicable as to commit… genocide.”
The mighty-looking Themba emerged from the sewers and walked over to Nurka and his prisoner.
“Time to go, chief.”
“How’s your wound?” Nurka replied without looking.
Themba’s purple eyes widened within his skull-like helmet, then narrowed again, “
It’s nothing.”
Uther looked Themba over and saw his left arm was caked with blood – evidently the Howler’s pistol had left a mark, scraped his flesh perhaps. The athletic wolf met eyes with the big hyena and the two engaged in a pugnacious staring match.
“If you’re done with him,” Themba said, stepping a little closer, “I’ll kill him, now.”
“No,” Nurka replied.
Themba glared at Nurka.
“No, Themba,” the chief reiterated firmly, looking at his taller companion. “We’re better than that.”
“But-”
“He wounded you. He’s a great warrior, a Chakaa worthy of our respect. Take that as solace.”
Themba snarled, “You promised us revenge!”
Nurka grabbed him by his wounded arm and marched out of earshot.
Uther was surprised at the smaller Nurka’s clout with Themba, but was glad of it. He watched as Themba twisted his arm free of Nurka’s grip like an unruly teenager and the two exchanged heated words. Uther couldn’t hear them over the churning machinery behind his head, and the hyenas’ helmets precluded any lip-reading.
“Comfy, Wild-heart?” someone else said.
Uther’s fur stood on end and he twisted in his bonds to look behind. “Ivan!” he gasped.
The black-cloaked Howler Captain was nestled behind the contorting pipes. He held a finger to helmet grille, and said, “I was waiting for them to kill you, but it appears they’ve other ideas, or Nurka does at any rate.”
“Untie me,” Uther whispered, twisting his paws.
“No.”
“What? Whatcha mean ‘no’?”
Ivan explained in his most dulcet, honey-glazed tone reserved only for the highest in sarcasm, “Let’s not blow your cover, Wild-heart. Ingenious strategy, I must say.”
“Strategy, sir?”
“Yes, allowing yourself to get captured to learn of the terrorist plot from their own lips, naturally. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
“Uh, yeah. Now untie me.”
“You’ve got their names and their grievances, that’s a start. Now try and get the location of the hostages out of them.”
“Cap’n!”
