Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  Sara followed suit, even smiled. Words dallied on the tip of he tongue. What to say? Can I say? Should I just ask?

  Ka-crrraaack!

  The distant distorted echo of an imperium shot tore across the geyser lake, sending small crickets and grasshoppers leaping from the long grass in panic and causing every wolf at the ALPHA table to flinch.

  Every wolf except Janoah.

  Horst nearly fell off his chair, his bulk all but overturning the table as he and Duncan leapt to the Alpha’s defence. “Into the train, my Alpha!” Horst urged, sword drawn, just barely. “Quickly, it could be a THORN attack!”

  “Calm yourselves!” the Alpha scolded, tugging at his black cloak. “Probably nothing more than Hummels hunting game. This is their territory after all-”

  Crack! Crack!

  Two lesser shots ripped through the air, putting paid to the Alpha’s theory.

  “That’s pistol fire,” Duncan said.

  “Nobody hunts with pistols, my Alpha,” Horst seconded.

  Without thinking, even less being command to do so, Rafe leapt into action, speeding across the fields towards the source of the disturbance with great, matchless strides.

  Janoah sprang to her feet, “Rafe, no!” and gave chase.

  *

  Vito’s two Den Guards fired their pistols, but each missed the white ghost tearing across the clearing towards them. With a blast of imperious energy that punched his cloak billowing outwards the mysterious white wolf launched himself over the steaming pools and landed amidst the guards.

  “Stop, assassin!” one cried, to no avail. The silent stranger set about him with his rapier, kristahl clashing, sparks of plasma flying. The air rippled with energy as the three wolves danced about the pools, trying to stick one another with their deadly blades.

  Linus didn’t linger to observe the insane melee, but instead blindly ushered Vito to safety, his mind and body seized by an instinctual desire to protect the Bloodfang’s Den Father whatever had transpired.

  “Go, sir!”

  The baffled, bleeding Vito allowed himself to be pushed to the shore, where a third Den Guard waited with his paw outstretched, ready and desperate to pull his master from the water and flee.

  “Take my paw, Den Father!” the Guard cried.

  With Linus at his back, Vito scrabbled for the shore and reached for the aid being offered.

  Bzzt! Crack!

  “Gaaaaagh!”

  With a flash and snap of plasma the Den Guard by the poolside was blasted tail over head into the water, landing on Linus and dragging him under the stiflingly hot waves.

  Pushing the guard off him, Linus thrust himself to the surface and cleared his stinging eyes, whereupon he was met with a sight those eyes didn’t believe despite everything Vladimir had said.

  There at the pool’s edge, left paw quivering with arcs of residual plasma, was a black and white-furred Bloodfang Howler. Linus saw right through his anonymous helmet and mantle, the cut of his athletic frame and the scent of his corona utterly unmistakable.

  “Uther?” Linus yelped in horror.

  “Linus?” Uther replied, equally aghast.

  The trembling, bleeding Vito sloshed forward. “Uther, m-my finest beta,” he said, spreading his paws on the pool’s lip. He appeared strangely happy, his missing ear quite forgotten. “You’ve… come back to me, my child! You’ve come back now that Rufus has abandoned you, is that it? I-I told you he would.” The Den Father reached up, “I’ll take you back. Of course. Come… help me.”

  After a moment’s ear-picked uncertainly, Wild-heart remembered what he was about. He drew a pistol from under his cloak and took aim at Vito. “Rot, you sick drooler!”

  The Den Father’s face sank.

  Crack!

  Amidst an explosion of ash, Vito clutched at his chest. Teetering in defiant disbelief, the Den Father glared murderously at Uther and raised a paw. Arcs of plasma trickled down his arm, the air and water rippled around him, but, before Vito could vent his fury one last time, he collapsed backwards into the pool. Linus watched helplessly as his leader rolled over, clouds of crimson pouring from a hole put right through him, front to back.

  “By Ulf’s fangs,” Linus whined.

  Uther’s accomplice walked to the pool’s edge, his rapier awash with the blood of the two other Den Guards lying dispatched on the ground behind him.

  “Finish the job,” he said.

  “C-c-captain Ivan,” Linus gulped shakily. Tall, elegant, white – it could be no other wolf but Blade-dancer.

  Ivan didn’t acknowledge the fact, nor even look at Linus, only at Uther. “Do you want to die a traitor’s death, torn apart by ants? No witnesses, Wild-heart! They’ll execute him as well for failing in his duties, don’t you doubt it. Kill him, it’ll be a kindness.”

  Uther stood stock still, unwilling, or unable.

  “I should never have let you come,” Ivan huffed, drawing his pistol and at last looking at Linus – aiming at Linus.

  The witness closed his eyes, paws raised defensively if no doubt uselessly, but as Ivan pulled the trigger Uther lunged in and smacked his pistol aside.

  Crack!

  The pellet hit the surface beside a flinching Linus, sending up a shower of bloodied water.

  Whirling on Uther, Ivan shoved him away. “Fool!”

  Uther came right back, grabbing Ivan’s cloak, “Touch him and I’ll kill yer!”

  “What are you now,” Ivan spat acerbically, “his alpha?”

  “Thump you, you arrogant ponce!”

  The two assassins squared off against each other, chests touching, nostrils flaring.

  Meanwhile, the Den Guard that Uther had stunned recovered his wherewithal and lunged ashore. Grabbing one of the dry pistols dropped by his comrades, he spluttered, “Die, assassin scum!”

  Ka-crack!

  The long-cloaked Den Guard span round in an explosion of blood and collapsed into the pool.

  Shot, and dead for it, like Vito before him.

  The trembling Linus turned this way and that, searching the woods until he saw a yellow-cloaked Greystone wolf standing just proud of the undergrowth, rifle smouldering in steady paws. Lowering the long barrel of his mighty weapon, he snapped from a momentary stupor and shouted, “Quit whining and move!” before fleeing into the trees.

  Given one last mutual glare, Ivan and Uther made their escape with the Greystone, leaving Linus wallowing in the diluted blood of his slain leader, unable to speak, unable to think. This was a dream, an unreal nightmare!

  I’m still alive, he realised, checking his body for holes, wounds, anything.

  I survived!

  Not for long, Linus thought, elation giving way to sobriety. You heard Ivan, you’ll be executed for failing your Den Father so spectacularly, if not tortured first for information and you know things, Linus Mills, you knew this was to happen and you did nothing because of abject cowardice.

  No! I won’t let them get away with it! I won’t let Amael get away with it!

  Scrabbling for the shore and all but leaping from the bloody water where Vito’s lifeless body floated limply, the sodden Linus snatched a rapier from one of the fallen Den Guards and sped into the dark woodlands after his comrades.

  “Utheeeer!”

  Chapter 40

  The escapees pressed on through Gelb’s dark caves, the light of their lanterns and Noss’s map the only things keeping a lid on the growing unease. Rusting rails, abandoned mine carts and rotting wooden struts, all plentiful relics at first, began to thin out the further the group wandered from the active mines. Eventually all mining paraphernalia ceased to be and only bare, natural, un-worked rock passages remained – that and the odd wisp of ominous spider silk stretched between the slick walls.

  The thought occurred to Madou, and he expressed it to his Prince, that they had nothing to protect themselves with. They had no weapons, not even their imperious paws – any exertion, any snap of plasma, and their collars would choke them
into submission.

  “I can get off one blast, maybe two,” Madou said, tugging at his infuriating collar. “No more.”

  “Don’t worry, Madou,” Noss replied breezily, checking his map against the path ahead, “I had my collar replaced by Professor Tack ages ago.”

  Noss’s revelation took a moment to sink through Madou’s hefty skull. “It’s fake?”

  The Prince tapped the iridescent metal band hugging his thick neck, “No more dangerous than a bowtie; and I’ve worn one of those too! Rufus persuaded me into one for some Lupan function or other. Hahaha, yes. Those were the days.”

  Whilst his Prince reminisced, Madou claimed, “I was going to have Tack get rid of mine. I could have if I’d known we were going to escape, my Prince.”

  Noss dismissed at once, “You wouldn’t have been able to afford Tack’s prices.”

  “What did he want?” Madou replied, a little affronted.

  “A white-imperium crystal, what else?” his Prince replied, flicking the map with the back of his dark fingers. “And this ragged thing cost me two! That cat is extortionate. Though without me and Rufus around to supply him with imperium he might have to drop his expectations in future.”

  Noss finished with a wide-eyed, hyena-brand cackle before leading on.

  Madou looked across at Tomek and Zozizou, their faces lit by their glowing lanterns. “Well,” he said in general, more to calm his own nerves than theirs, “as long as one of us can fight properly.”

  Nodding, Tomek cleared his throat and looked down.

  Nothing was said, yet Madou sensed some awkwardness in the young Howler.

  He’s hiding something.

  “Tomeeeek! Tomek! Wait fer me, lad!”

  A gruff call echoed down the cave’s throat, dashing Madou’s immediate concerns over Tomek. The hyena instead turned to face the oncoming stranger, lantern held high and ready to strike.

  No stranger, but a friend.

  “Helmut!” Tomek chirped happily, recognising the hog long before anyone else. “What you doing?”

  The big pig trotted over, somewhat breathless. “I changed my mind, lad,” he panted, lantern swaying. “I couldn’t convince the others, though. They went back.”

  At once amazed and concerned, Noss pushed his way to the fore. Looking beyond Helmut, down the winding passage that was one of countless forks in the caves, he demanded, “How’d you find us? We must be a mile in by now.”

  Helmut tapped his quivering porcine snout and sniffed, “No offence, but none of you smell too good right now. With my hog nose I could whiff you lot from the moon!”

  Tomek scoffed, “You’re one to talk.”

  “Huh! We pigs are very clean beasts, lad,” Helmut insisted indignantly, fist to chest.

  Laughing, Tomek slapped his friend on the back.

  Noss, for once, wasn’t tickled by the situation. “If you can find us, the Gelb hogs can too,” he realised grimly, turning and picking up the pace. “Let’s move!”

  As quickly as he started, he suddenly stopped.

  “And by the Wind snuff out some of those lanterns! We don’t need them all. We’re like a train of glow bugs down here. Everyone and their mother could find us.”

  The typically jovial hyena Prince shocked everyone with his outburst. Still, he was ever a little unstable.

  Whatever their thoughts the party obeyed, putting out all but one of their lanterns. Only Zozizou – who with much head-shaking and paw-waving made it clear to cousin Madou that he wouldn’t be denied his reassuring nightlight – and Noss himself lit the way.

  They struck deeper into the caves, Madou’s mind trapped between thoughts of Gelb hogs behind him and spiders ahead of him.

  And perchance traitors beside him.

  *

  Slashing aside leaves and saplings with the Den Guard’s rapier, Linus tore through the undergrowth, twisted brambles clawing at his bare arms and legs like so much barbed wire. The further from the imperium spring he ventured the clearer his unknowable senses became, guiding him invisibly through the tangled labyrinth of anonymous tree trunks, like an ant following a scent trail.

  Suddenly the auras faded. The panting Linus slowed down, stopped, spread his arms, tried to feel his way with his imperium-laced sword outstretched like an antenna. He felt presences in several directions, each fading fast as the assassins fled.

  They’ve split up! I can’t catch them all. Ulf knows I likely won’t catch any of them. Uther, fastest wolf in Lupa, must already be halfway home.

  Which way? Which one? Does it even matter?

  With a growl of frustration Linus took off after the strongest and therefore presumably nearest corona. He immediately regretted his decision, for logically the strongest presence at any given distance ought to be Ivan.

  And if I find him I’m a dead wolf.

  *

  “Grrrffgh!”

  Uther stumbled and rolled in the bushes. Not now! By Ulf’s fangs, don’t fail me now!

  He tried to rise and carry on, but his rotting bones wouldn’t have it. His right leg burning with sharp, shooting pains Wild-heart limped on.

  It’ll pass, he told himself. Just keep going. It’ll pass.

  He staggered into a sun-licked clearing dominated by a giant twisted cherry tree perched upon a hillock. The tree stood resplendent in blossom, its millions of delicate petals stained with the telltale rainbow iridescence of imperium. Its roots had perhaps tapped into a spring beneath the ground and taken up the rich imperious water hereabouts, leading to unnatural growth and colour.

  At any other time and place even the cynical Uther might’ve marvelled at the strange tree’s mesmerising beauty, but thoughts of capture and execution blinkered him, and he passed under its winding boughs with barely a glance.

  Beyond the tree, like a ruined castle standing amidst the forest, rose an outcrop of gnarled rock with fingers and buttresses of pale, mossy limestone invading the woodland in radial spokes. The thought occurred to Uther to climb up and hide amongst the countless nooks and crannies until the rot passed and he could run again. No good hiding on the forest floor, the Bloodfangs would comb the area and sense any presence. Up there, perhaps, with his corona blocked by sheer rock and suppressed by calm meditation he might be able to conceal himself until nightfall.

  It was as good a plan as any.

  Grasping the rock with clammy paws the athletic Howler began his desperate ascent, his powerful arms compensating for his failing legs, pulling him up onto the first ledge. What he wouldn’t give for a sting right now.

  Uther hoped Ivan and Gunnar were faring better. Certainly they wouldn’t have the bad luck to suffer an attack too. Gunnar was barely old enough to notice the rot and Uther had never seen Ivan succumb to any symptoms, never seen him succumb to anything, except Rufus.

  Suddenly Wild-heart felt something at his back, an oh-so familiar corona.

  “Uther!” it yapped from below.

  Wild-heart froze, paws on the sun-warmed rock, ears twisting. He knew it was Linus; there was no need to look back and confirm the fact. With a gulp, he continued to climb.

  “Utheeer!”

  Still he ignored his friend and comrade.

  After a pause, Linus panted nearer than before, “You’re under arrest in the name of the Republic!”

  Resting his back on the rock face Uther located Linus down there in the blossom-strewn clearing, standing proud with nothing to his name but his torn breeches and a stolen rapier. His glorious golden fur was sodden and filthy with mud and blood, his arms raked with scratches.

  “Don’t be daft, mate,” Uther dismissed. “Just pretend you didn’t see me.”

  He turned to climb again.

  The trembling Linus raised his quivering rapier, pointing at Uther up there on the ledge. “Either come down here and give yourself up to me, quietly,” he growled, barely containing his rage, “or I’ll howl for all I’m worth. The rest of the pack’ll come running and they’ll tear you apart!”

>   Uther whirled around, “Puh! Is this the thanks I get for sparing your life? Ivan would’ve killed you-”

  “Get down here you murderer!”

  The longest time passed before Uther, heart thumping and bones throbbing beneath that façade of calm, raised his paws in defeat. Clambering down the way he’d climbed he jumped the last stretch to Erde, weathering a shooting pain in his thigh with barely a limp. He was glad his helmet masked his anguished expression in front of Linus, of all wolves.

  Uther spread his paws at his soiled partner and said humorously, “You look a right state, dun yer?”

  “I n-nnn-never believed it, Uther,” Linus quavered, head shaking side to side, blue eyes wet with tears. “Not really. Not until now.”

  “Believed what?”

  “That’d you’d murder a wolf for Amael’s sake.”

  “Puh! Like I care about Amael.”

  “THORN then!”

  “THORN?” Uther recoiled.

  “You’re working for them, you a-a-and Ivan. Vladimir told me everything. It’s no good hiding it.”

  “You’re clueless, Woodlouse. Aye, but you always was. Like I’d do anything for those hyena scumbags short of put a bullet through their skulls. Ulf almighty!”

  Linus’s eyes narrowed with realisation. It was true, Uther did hate hyenas, and was no fan of Amael’s either, he had long said so ever since he and Linus had met.

  “Why then?” Linus demanded. “Tell me the truth.”

  Uther waved a finger like a chiding parent. “You’re not getting any more out of me, mate.” He drew one of his twin swords in a flash, making Linus flinch. “Now,” he said, eyes blazing from the shadows of his helm, “are you gonna howl your little heart out like a coward, or are you gonna face me like a real wolf?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Linus spat, tears wetting his flaxen cheeks. “There’s no honour at stake here. You’ve not a shred left to your name!”

  “That’s rich coming from old Vito’s latest fancy.”

  Linus exploded, “You just shot him dead, you murderous traitor! You’ve k-k-killed our Den Father!”

  “Den Father my arse!” Uther gruffed back. “He was nothing but an empty shell, the rotten old bastard. Vito was scum, don’t you doubt it! They all are, all them so-called Den ‘Fathers’.” He looked Linus up and down and goaded, “But you two were getting on sooo well. Did I interrupt something? Spoil your quick ticket to the top, eh? I never had you down as a beta for any price. Guess I was wrong!”