by Adam Browne
Silvermane looked to the brown and white wolf seated in the middle of the five places and waited for him respond to Janoah’s cheeky remark.
The Alpha set the tone.
“Our apologies, Prefect,” he said amiably, flicking through what Janoah recognised as her report. He smiled up at her with his noble-white face and lighting-blue eyes, “We’ve had a busy day. Please be seated, we’ll not detain you long.”
“Yes, my Alpha,” Janoah said, pulling up one of those awful chairs.
‘The Alpha’, as the head of ALPHA had come to be known, was a small, albeit very well-built wolf, his thick neck and muscled arms betraying the innate strength common to Howlers in their prime. His fur coat resembled Uther’s, another of those pale-faced fellows who looked like they were wearing a white mask over their otherwise coloured fur. Only instead of white on grey, the Alpha was white on brown. His smart black mantle was pinned with a white-imperium brooch bearing the stylised ALPHA ‘A’. The black helmet resting on the desk beside Janoah’s open report was marked up in the same manner. White-imperium décor was a little extravagant, but symbolised the pure intentions of ALPHA.
A single medal graced the Alpha’s impressive chest. It was a smooth, heart-shaped, red-imperium crystal, quite dull, but with facets glinting deep within. A bead of red-imperium hung freely beneath the heart, like a drop of blood. The heart and droplet were both suspended beneath the word ‘EXALT’, which was embossed into a banner held aloft by twirling, ornate plant stems, all cast in bronze. A tiny, white-imperium pearl was nestled amidst the vines above the heart – easily the most intrinsically valuable detail. The whole ensemble, heart, drop, pearl and suspension, hung on a handsome red and white imperium-weave ribbon.
This rarest accolade was known as the Imperium Heart. Properly speaking it was not a medal, but a decoration; a thing earned for an act of distinguished bravery rather than taking part in a specific campaign. Only the Den Fathers could bestow a Howler with this particular honour and even then only when they all met at the annual Pack Summit and unanimously voted to do so – a thing almost unknown.
Some Howlers drooled at the mere thought of holding an Imperium Heart, let alone winning one. Janoah had inspected one up-close many times; it held no mystery for her. Except that, every time she sat down in front of the Alpha she would wonder how he had earned it, then forget to ask Silvermane or anyone else later, and asking the Alpha outright just felt tacky somehow.
Janoah had another question in mind. “Where’s Grand Prefect Nikita, if I may?” she asked, looking at the empty seat to the Alpha’s right, the one usually occupied by Alpha’s unofficial second.
“Checking on your Eisenwolf, I believe,” the Alpha replied airily. “He read your report with much interest, Prefect, as did we all. You say the Bloodfangs have a hyena in custody. Is that still the case?”
Janoah nodded, “Yes, my Alpha. He’s called Madou of the Jua-mata. Last I heard he’s recovered enough from his wounds to be plied over at Riddle Den. I’ve no doubt my old partner Vladimir Oromov will extract answers.”
“It’s fortunate for us that he didn’t have the gall to swig black-imperium like the rest,” the Alpha observed.
“It appears, my Alpha, that this Madou passed out from the centipede’s venom before he could kill himself. To even survive a bite he must be a Chakaa and therefore of some importance to THORN, perhaps one of their leaders.”
“Chakaa?” scoffed the Prefect to the Alpha’s left, a rotund white-furred fellow weighed down not only by his girth, but by dozens of medals jostling for space on his cloak. “Chakaa, Prefect?”
Janoah explained gently, “That’s what hyenas call their Howlers, Grand Prefect Horst.”
“Yes! They do, we don’t.” Grand Prefect Horst chided. “We mustn’t add credence to rival hyena institutions.”
Janoah skilfully batted Horst’s criticism away, “Actually, Chakaa is rather a disparaging term in hyena dialect, sir; it means they’re rotten.”
“Rotten?”
“Yes, sir. To call them anything else would be complimentary.”
“Well… in any case,” Horst bristled, trying to regain control, “it should’ve been ALPHA who came away with such a key suspect not our valued Bloodfang friends,”.
Janoah mounted a further rebuff, “Chakaa Madou only fell into Bloodfang paws because he appeared to be dead; Rafe and I were after a live suspect.”
The Alpha checked Janoah’s report. “Nurka?”
“Yes, my Alpha-”
“These hyena names; they’re so… primitive!” Horst chortled like a hog, medals tinkling as he looked left and right at the Alpha and the two other present Grand Prefects. “Nur-ka, Mad-oo and… Tem-ba is it? Ridiculous!”
Nobody else so much as cracked a smile, least of all the Alpha.
ALPHA’s leader moved swiftly on, “Are they using their real names, or are they aliases?”
“Who can say?” Janoah replied. “But as Chakaa any family will have disowned them. They’ll be pariahs.”
“Pariahs?” Horst queried, flabby chin raised. “Why’s that?”
Janoah made to speak, but the Alpha took over, “Because hyenas do not believe in using imperium, Horst, especially not white, which they consider to be the tears of the sacred Sky.” He continued, perchance showing off in front of the knowledgeable Janoah, “If a Chakaa happens across imperium above ground then it is accepted as a gift from Mother Erde and can be used as they see fit, fashioned into armour or used to sate the rot, but digging it up is always theft and white-imperium always forbidden.”
Grand Prefect Horst thought for a moment. “Then what if these three so-called Chakaa have only using imperium deemed acceptable? Would they still be outcast?”
“Always the awkward question, Horst.”
“I like to keep you on your toes, my Alpha.”
“So that’s why I keep you around,” the Alpha joked. Patiently he explained that, “Even if Chakaa follow the rules and only use surface deposits of imperium, they must still consume purple-imperium in lieu of sacred white. They do not inject it via stings as we do, they brew it up into a drink called ‘chunta’, rather like our own ancestors used to do before we found purer means. Naturally the purple-imperium in chunta settles on the brain and makes Chakaa insane, albeit much slower than it would a Howler. Even so, in the strict and nuanced world of hyena nobility, a Chakaa’s crude behaviour is unacceptable. Only the late Prince Noss was exempt; being a sacred Prince he could do no wrong.”
ALPHA’s premier finished by looking to Janoah, “At least as far as I understand matters.”
She nodded a little, like a prim schoolteacher to a star pupil.
“Then they really are primitive,” was Horst’s assessment. “No imperium mining and a mad monarchy running the show. No wonder they lost.”
Grunting, the Alpha flicked through Janoah’s report. “I see a lot of this consists of Uther Bloodfang’s testimony. He’s a reliable fellow, this ‘Wild-heart’?”
Janoah nodded, “An exceptional Howler, my Alpha. He infiltrated the refinery and courageously allowed himself to be captured by THORN to gain information that has so far eluded even us.”
“Allowed himself to be captured!” Horst heckled, his jowls wobbling in time to the ridiculous array of medals dancing beneath. “You expect us to believe such rubbish?”
“I didn’t myself, at first, but his testimony matches with that of Ivan Donskoy, who, as I’m sure you’re aware, is a wolf of unquestioned courage and impeccable credentials,” Janoah said airily.
Silence, for a moment at least.
“Not quite impeccable,” Horst said, knitting his fingers together on the table and leaning forward. “I feel for you, Prefect.”
“Sir?” Janoah replied.
Horst delighted in letting it be known that, “It must be very upsetting to know that pretty Eisbrand pair, Ivan and Tristan, turn your husband’s eye more readily than you do.”
Janoah smiled disarm
ingly, “Forgive me, but I fear your gossip is a little outdated, Grand Prefect. My husband moved on from those two years ago.”
“Did he indeed?” Horst woofed, looking down the table at the Alpha and the others. “Are we to believe now that Howler Rufus has reformed his ways?”
Janoah patronised Horst with aplomb, “You misunderstand me, Grand Prefect. Not reformed, just… found someone else to occupy his feverish mind. Outside of his work, Rufus has the attention span of a cub. Betas come and go, conquered one after the other. Though he seems quite taken with his latest follower-”
“And you remain wedded to this degenerate?” Horst snarled, thumping the tabletop once. “Have you no shame? You two should’ve divorced a decade ago, as the amended Lupan Laws decreed, instead of carrying on with-”
“Horst!” the Alpha snapped, blinking rapidly and raising a paw. “I do not want a headache at this hour.”
Horst was silenced.
The Alpha continued calmly, “Prefect Janoah has nothing to be ashamed of; she and Rufus were wed before the nuptial amendment like many Howlers and that’s that. We are not about to retroactively apply law, that way madness lies. Besides, we are not concerned by who’s combing Rufus’s back from month to month, our only concern is that he receives no more imperium or pay than he is allocated, as with any other wolf. That is ALPHA’s remit.”
“But his speeches are clearly inflammatory,” Horst claimed. “Do you realise he thinks hyenas are our equals?”
“Yes… and he’s right.”
“My Alpha!”
Glaring meaningfully at Horst, the Alpha pulled a photo of the now identified hyenas from Janoah’s file. “Hyenas are not, as is generally put about, stupid, uncultured buffoons. They are clever, resourceful and in THORN’s case deceitful. Those terrorists must have enough black-imperium put away by now to murder half of Lupa, and I dare say they’ve had inside help.”
“Inside help?”
“Yes! To have avoided capture, and to have such kristahl arms and eisenglanz armour as they do, there must be a vast network of filth running beneath Lupan society… and I do not mean the sewers. Howlers, Elders, even a Den Father could be involved.”
In the ensuing silence, one of the other wolves felt able to speak, a handsome, athletic fellow whose jet-black fur melded almost seamlessly with his mantle. “This Prince Noss the Alpha mentioned,” he began, in a faded Hummel accent, “did you nae work with him when you were a Bloodfang, Janoah?”
“Yes, Grand Prefect Duncan,” she confirmed.
“He was a Howler, am Ah right?”
“A Watcher, sir.”
“Oh aye?” Duncan woofed.
“He had some knowledge of the wilds, so we made him a Watcher. He was part of the Bloodfang’s drive to civilise the hyenas by gainfully employing them.”
“And what a success that was!” Horst mocked loudly. “He turned round and blew Rufus up! Another of Rufus’s ludicrous ideas ends in utter disaster.”
“An idea sanctioned by the Den Fathers,” Janoah pointed out, “And, I believe, the Alpha too.”
The Alpha smiled; Horst tugged his suddenly stifling mantle.
“Well, perhaps it was a mistake,” the Alpha conceded.
Silvermane quietly marvelled at the goings-on; Janoah was as hard to pin down as a greased worm.
“He’s dead, this Noss?” the black-furred Duncan asked, his golden eyes narrowing.
Janoah nodded confidently, “Yes, sir.”
Horst leant over and cackled, “Josef Grau cooked him to death on the rack, I heard.”
“Mistakenly,” Janoah said, “though he would have been executed regardless for his crime.”
Duncan sighed, “Pity. Mayhaps he’d have made for useful leverage, or at least a negotiator. Terrorist or no, a hyena prince must have some clout if he’s ‘above fault’.”
The Alpha impatiently dismissed him, “Since Noss is dead this is an academic debate, Duncan.”
Janoah looked down a little.
Duncan went on, “Och, but there must be other hyena princes, my Alpha.”
“Not of unquestionable bloodline; Noss was the last with a decent claim. Besides, you overstate a prince’s clout. There are no kings amongst hyenas, only queens. If we were hyenas, even princes, we males would have to bow to lady Janoah’s every whim on pain of death. Isn’t that right, Valerio?”
“I believe so, my Alpha.”
“Happily we wolves are a race of equal opportunities.”
Janoah smiled, “Yes, although there are times when the hyena way of doing things is tempting.”
Baffled silence.
Unfazed, Janoah continued, “What I wouldn’t give to have my wayward husband at my beck and call on pain of death, just for once.”
The Alpha laughed, “Indeed!”
Everyone else joined in, save Horst.
The Alpha moved on, “Now, Prefect Janoah, we must discuss graver matters, I fear,” he said. “About your young ‘Eisenwolf’, we are concerned at his lack of progress and the mounting costs.”
“Rafe’s made great strides of late, my Alpha.”
Horst made his thoughts known again, “Great strides? We’ve sunk thousands of lupas into Josef’s monstrosity and what’ve we to show for it? Not a single canister of black-imperium recovered, not a hyena taken into custody, at least not by us, though the Bloodfangs managed perfectly well without an illegal Eisenwolf. All your abomination managed last week was a little pest control. How do you account for his failure, Prefect? Explain yourself!”
Before Janoah could mount her defence, Silvermane interjected.
“There have been teething troubles, we’ll not deny,” he said, looking past Horst to the Alpha. “But Rafe will come good, my Alpha. His raw power is… phenomenal. The wolf broke an imperial centipede in half with his bare paws.”
Silvermane’s claim was hyperbolic, but his voice remained so measured and convincing that wolves were inclined to believe him.
“I’ve seen the specimen he killed,” he went on, “it’s a monster. Had Rafe not intervened there’s no telling how many good Howlers would have lost their lives trying to stop it. That aside, he also killed dozens of THORN fanatics; a success by any measure.”
“And yet I heard your mighty Eisenwolf fainted on the job, Silvermane,” Horst mocked, leaning back in his creaking new-materials chair. “Laid up yet again.”
“Too much ash in the blood,” Silvermane clarified, with a disarming chuckle. “Who amongst us hasn’t overdone it from time to time? The cocktail of poisons in Rafe’s body would kill any of us stone dead… even you my Alpha.”
The Alpha remained inscrutable.
“Rafe is a remarkable fellow,” Silvermane went on, “and genial company, once you get to know him. He is no monster, just a young wolf weighed with a great burden.”
Silence prevailed.
The Alpha rubbed his handsome white muzzle with a brown paw, “I’m sure, Silvermane, but our pockets are not inexhaustible. When I go before the Den Fathers and they review our budget I must justify the cash and white-imperium I have diverted. If I have nothing to show for it when good Howlers are dying for want of venom, they will demand an explanation and I will have to come clean about your project. The Pack Summit is not far off. If Rafe cannot prove his worth come springtime, the Den Fathers will close the loophole in the Lupan Laws that has allowed your Eisenwolf to be brought to fruition under ALPHA and then there will be nothing anyone can do for him, not even me.”
“You’ll have results, my Alpha, and soon,” Silvermane insisted. “If not,” he said, looking to Janoah, “I’ll terminate the Eisenwolf project myself.”
*
“Terminate the project yourself will you?”
“I didn’t mean it-”
“Throwing me under the bus are you?”
“Janoah, I am a Grand Prefect; you will speak to me appropriately, or I’ll divest myself of you sincerely.”
The ALPHA Chamber fell silent. Horst
and Duncan and the Alpha had long gone, leaving Janoah to have it out with her patron, Silvermane.
“If you get rid of me, you lose Rafe,” she claimed. “He only trusts me.”
Silvermane countered silkily, “Not only you.”
After a moment’s thought, Janoah huffed, “If you think that prim little nurse he fancies will help you control him you’re mistaken. All Meryl can manage is a hot chocolate and a bedtime story, that’s as far as she goes. She won’t make Rafe fight for ALPHA.”
Silvermane turned his glass of water in his paw, watching the shafts of refracted light sweep across the tabletop. He poured another and passed it to Janoah, like a pathetic peace offering.
“This petty arguing is not helping either of us,” he said. “We need to think of something.”
Janoah took the water and dipped her chin, looking at her wobbling reflection. “I already have.”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about Uther’s antics all week.”
“You mean his getting captured?”
A nod, an explanation, “He infiltrated THORN back at the refinery. He did so clumsily, but briefly there we had a window. We must manufacture one again, only properly.”
“Inserting an agent?” Silvermane scoffed, sipping his water. “It’s been tried, even with bought hyenas. They’ve all learnt nothing or disappeared and time is running out, Janoah.”
“I know. But I’ve a beast the hyenas will want to trust. Provided we make his fall believable.”
“Fall?”
“From grace,” Janoah clarified. “It’ll be rough and he’s not getting any younger. We’ll need to make him an offer even he can’t refuse; an offer only the Alpha can make.”
Curious, Silvermane knitted his fingers, “Who exactly do you have in mind?”
Janoah raised her glass, “My dear husband.”
*
Linus lay back on the bench and grasped the barbell with both chalked paws. After a few shuffles, adjustments and preparatory breaths, he eased the weight from its cradle and lowered it slowly until the bar nearly touched his chest, then up again, and down again, counting each press on the up-stroke.
