Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “Dirty,” Amael huffed, “like Lupa in general!”

  Brynn chuckled courteously back.

  Linus tried his own paw at breaking the ice by nodding and smiling at the anonymous Hummel Howler sitting opposite him.

  “B-bbb-beautiful day!” he stammered over the hubbub of rumbling engines and slamming doors.

  “Yes!” the Howler flatly confirmed. No more.

  Awkward.

  Linus blurted, “I’m a-a-a friend of Sara Hummel. Do you know her?”

  A frown, a cock of the head. “Den Mother Cora’s first daughter, ye mean?” the Howler queried, interested now.

  Emboldened, Linus nodded vigorously, “We’ve been seeing each other for some time-”

  Vladimir elbowed him firmly in the ribs.

  Before Linus could fathom what he’d done wrong, the car pulled away under the care of the driver – a hog dressed in white. Beside the hog sat another Howler, male or female Linus couldn’t tell, but they looked alert and ready to defend the motorcade against any would-be assassins.

  The thought occurred to Linus, as he was whisked through sunny Hummelton, that a THORN sympathiser might leap out of the crowds of flag-waving little beasts lining the road and gas them all with a black-imperium bomb.

  No, not with Amael in the car. Besides it was too early. If THORN was going to strike at all it would be during the actual Summit, when they could get everyone. Right?

  Linus felt powerless, like a raft tossed in the current of fast-flowing events. The roar of an approaching waterfall foretold disaster and nobody seemed willing to pluck him from the water, even less dam the river.

  I’m such a coward, sitting here whilst Amael gets away with murder, perhaps even mass murder. But what can I do?

  ‘You could shoot him, mate, as I shot Vito,’ Linus imagined Uther gruffing. ‘He’s sitting right there!’

  The Hummel motorcade trundled swiftly through the welcoming streets, Linus seeing none of the bunting and banners for his fevered thoughts. Within a few minutes the cars left the common folk behind and entered the exclusive courtyard of a great wedding-cake-like fortress. It resembled nothing so much as one of the countless castles the cats of Felicia were so fond of building for their extended royal dynasty – the royalist cats, unlike the republican wolves, hadn’t lost their ancient buildings in civil wars past nor voluntarily knocked them down to make way for progress. Hummel’s capital den, as Linus assumed it must be, looked a rare survivor of the old wolfen world, constructed not of brick and steel, but pale yellow stone. The many turrets and towers seemed to be hexagonal, their corners reinforced with handsome white masonry. Ivy and wisteria huddled in clusters around windows and balconies that were, again, hexagonal.

  Pack Hummel certainly takes this whole bee thing seriously, Linus thought, as the car doors were opened and everyone spilled out. Amael and Brynn took the lead, climbing the steps to the Den’s gaping main entrance even before the following cars had parked.

  “Don’t mention Sara again,” Vladimir advised Linus, as they slowly climbed the steps, momentarily alone and out of earshot.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Den Mother Cora thinks Lupa is a sewer. She won’t look kindly on a Bloodfang associating with her daughter. Howlers still behave like royalty here.”

  “Oh.”

  “By Ulf,” Vladimir went on, “if they knew you’d helped Sara sneak a dodger out of Lupa into Hummel territory they’d lock you up themselves.”

  Linus’s temper flared, “Oh what in Ulf’s name does that matter now? The republic’s in mortal danger!”

  “Shh! Shut up.”

  “Sir we have to warn someone. Please. I… I can’t sit idly by knowing Amael is-”

  Grabbing Linus by the gathered neck of his cloak Vladimir snarled into his face, “You will not destroy everything I’ve worked for! Do you hear me? You’ll shut up and sit on this, as I’ve done so for over a year!”

  Vladimir released Linus just as rest of the Bloodfang guests, Elders, Howlers and all, climbed the broad stairs. Linus stood unmoving and undisturbed by their curious glances and muffled comments as they passed. They had seen enough to gather he was being told off by Vladimir, but had no idea why.

  Linus wanted to scream.

  Once they were alone again, Vladimir gently tidied Linus’s cloak, father-like. “It’s not long now, Mills,” he said, suddenly so reasonable. “Amael and the conspirators will reveal themselves and the plot halted once they do, not before. Remember, I’m not acting alone. Trust me.”

  Linus breathed, “I’m trying, sir. I really am.”

  “Humph!”

  On Vladimir’s discordant huff they hurried inside to rejoin the main group.

  Hummelton Den’s doorway was a hexagon, naturally, and the glazed yellow tiles underfoot resembled, no doubt purposely, a sticky honeycomb. Remarkably, the vaulted ceiling of the hallway ahead was fashioned to mimic the twisting stems of plants, with sprouting leaves and flowers and the occasional petrified insect, all painted with pastel hues that penetrated the very stone, like a fresco.

  Linus noticed beasts lurking in the dark recesses between the buttresses running down each side of the hall. Statues? No, two rows of huge, grim-looking Howlers. They were exceedingly large, heavily armoured wolves, somewhat like Eisbrands, but wearing green surcoats marked with an oak tree, and with black fur to a wolf, not the typical Eisbrand whites and greys. Each was armed with a kristahl halberd held rigid and upright, whilst their glowing bee brooches reflected many-fold in the contours of their magnificently polished armour.

  “Halberdiers,” Vladimir whispered to Linus, “Hummel’s elite unit.”

  “I’ve heard something about them, sir.”

  “Good. Then you know to behave around them.”

  They walked forth, passing the silent ‘Halberdiers’ either side, wading through their frightfully strong coronas. It was like swimming in pins and treacle. That was the idea, to intimidate visitors and project Hummel power; country bumpkins we are not, silly little city wolves. The Bloodfangs that had preceded Linus and Vladimir certainly looked subdued.

  After the oppressive Halberdier-lined corridor the Den opened up into a high, vaulted atrium where stained glass windows and priceless white-imperium crystal chandeliers conspired to set the continuing theme of honeycomb tiles and floral buttresses ablaze with light. Hummel banners hung from a second floor walkway, which ran completely around the hexagonal atrium. The ceiling was a mosaic of the Hummel bee, its wings and six legs spread over a great single hexagonal cell. Though it looked a plump, friendly creature its abdomen bore a bright red sting. The message was plain; the Hummels loved peace but were not defenceless.

  Vladimir and Linus tardily joined the Bloodfang party gathered in the middle of the hall. The mood had come over very quiet and solemn after the Halberdier hall and their boots clacked noticeably in the quiet, turning a few heads. Instead of rudely manoeuvring their way to the front, Vladimir decided he and Linus should remain at the back. Amael and Brynn were at the front.

  Two of those scary Halberdiers stood either side of magnificent hexagonal door ahead. After an unbearable half minute or so, they tapped their mighty halberds on the ground three times, turned towards one another and pulled the doors wide with ceremonial precision.

  “The Den Mother comes!” they declared.

  “The ‘queen bee’ herself,” Vladimir huffed under his breath.

  Linus stood on his toes and craned his neck this way and that, searching for a clear view through the rolling landscape of wolfen heads and ears, until Vladimir clapped a paw on his shoulder and pushed his heels flat again.

  Oh to be taller.

  The familiar clink and squeak of armour and belts disturbed the silence as several Hummel Howlers entered the hall in a neat line. They parted and knelt in two rows. Eldress Brynn knelt too, then all the Bloodfangs, Elder and Howler alike, in a wave of reverence rolling back to Vladimir and Linus.

  Only two wolves r
emained standing; Amael in striking red, white and black, and his only present equal, Cora, the Hummel Den Mother, resplendent in white, green and gold.

  “Den Father Amael,” she greeted.

  “Den Mother Cora,” he replied.

  With his head dipped Linus dared to peep from under his helmet – he could see now with everyone kneeling. Cora looked splendid. Her white armour was inlaid with green-imperium swirls, depicting the tendrils of a climbing plant. It was neither a feminine nor masculine design, but rather gender-neutral, Linus thought. Cora’s Howler mantle was white, bordered with a sage green trim, and a subtle golden honeycomb pattern was woven throughout the white portion of the cloth. Her brooch and helmet were gold and inlaid with a white-imperium bee.

  Cora’s mantle may have been a sermon to bees, but Amael’s striking red and black outfit made him look more like the venomous insect; a parasitic wasp that had come amongst the Hummel to wreck havoc.

  And so he had.

  Linus wanted to leap up and denounce him, but knew he would succeed only in appearing a swivel-eyed loon. He would be dismissed as deranged, duly arrested, then done in by Amael on the quiet. So, this is why Vladimir says nothing, because he can’t. It would be suicide. I see now.

  “Please accept mah condolences regarding Den Father Vito,” Cora said sombrely.

  “Thank you, Den Mother,” Amael nodded, simple, gruff.

  “Ah’m utterly ashamed that this could happen on Hummel land. Rest assured our Watchers are combing Everdor as we speak; they’ll find the assassins.”

  “I’m most grateful, but this seems to have been an internal job perpetrated by disaffected Bloodfang youths. Hummel bears no responsibility.”

  “Then you know who was behind it?”

  “One of the assassins, Uther Wild-heart, has a sordid history with our late Den Father. It seems likely to have been nothing more than… petty revenge.”

  Linus’s ears pricked from afar. Was that just another Amael-brand lie or had Uther been in it for revenge? Please be true, I could forgive him if it was. I could. Oh but what does it matter now, Linus?

  Uther’s as good as dead.

  Cora looked around the hall. Not seeing any black-cloaked wolves kneeling, she hazarded, “I understood ALPHA were on your train?”

  “Were being the operative the word,” Amael huffed. “Adal and I came to a… constitutional impasse. I was forced to expel his party from Bloodfang territory, as is my right as Den Father. Our train is sovereign Bloodfang land and he was no longer welcome, you understand.”

  “Of course, but what kind of ‘impasse’?”

  Amael explained, “Prefect Adal stuck his nose in where it was not needed and seized Vito’s assassin. He then refused to give the scum up for interrogation, despite our entreaties to do so.” The Den Father shrugged his cloaked shoulders, “His implication, of course, is that we Bloodfangs are incapable of conducting a thorough and fair investigation. I could not tolerate such an insult. So, as my first act, I shunted ALPHA’s carriages into the nearest siding somewhere along the tracks and left them there. Don’t ask me where. They can hitch a lift on a passing ash train for all I care.”

  Cora digested the surprising news, “Ah see.”

  “You’re shocked?” Amael asked, continuing before Cora could confirm or deny it. “However, I have to tell you, Den Mother, that unlike Vito I will not tolerate ALPHA’s naked power grab, and nor will my Elders. We must work to put Adal’s bullies in their place this year. I will be putting forth a motion to restrict their powers and I hope I can count on the votes of you and the Hummel Elders.”

  Cora made no clear commitment, but nodded politely.

  “Och! Rise, please,” she said afresh, gesturing at her still-kneeling guests. “You’re welcome tae mah home. What’s Hummel’s is yours, mah Bloodfang brothers.”

  Everyone rose at their own pace, young Howlers springing up as if in defiance of authority, older, more respectful Elders taking their time, afraid standing too fast might be taken as an insult to the great Cora Hummel.

  Whatever Cora thought of Amael’s hasty dealings with ALPHA, the Den Mother remained gracious. “Would ye care tae walk with me awhile, Amael?” she asked, slipping her golden helmet from her black, bright-eyed face and passing it to one of her aides; a gesture of friendship and trust. “Ah would be glad tae show you and your fine wolves around whilst we wait for the rest of the packs tae arrive.”

  Amael also removed his helmet, revealing his tough, steel-grey features. “I take it we’re the first?” he asked, walking with Cora through the main doors, Hummels and Bloodfangs mingling in tow.

  “That ye are,” Cora confirmed. “We didnae expect anyone until the afternoon.”

  Amael explained the blunder, “Our train departed Lupa early so that Den Father Vito could visit the springs. We planned to stay there some time before moving on. Naturally we didn’t linger longer than necessary after….” Amael grimaced and sniffed, “That place will forever hold bad memories for me now.”

  Cora shook her head. “It’s a tragedy,” she sighed. “But life goes on; the fir makes way for the sapling. What we must do tae honour Vito is work tae keep such happenings rare, and nae let murder and intrigue become commonplace as it was when we were young.”

  Time and pawsteps passed.

  “You know,” Amael began afresh, “I’m eager to see where you keep your famous bees, Den Mother.”

  “Have ye nae seen the Den Apiary before?”

  “No; too busy arguing and voting last time I came here.”

  Cora chuckled, “Aye, there’ll be plenty of time for that come tomorrow. This way then, follow me.”

  *

  “Unnngh.”

  Sara heard a groan, but balanced somewhere between dreams and reality she put it down to imagination and unconsciously elected to remain where she was, her head resting on her folded arms.

  The next she knew a great hefty paw clapped on the back of her neck!

  “Meryl?” it said.

  “Bruno!” Sara gasped, sitting bolt upright and grabbing that big paw in both of hers. “You’re awake.”

  Bruno’s muscled torso crumpled like an accordion as he levered himself into a half-sitting-up posture. He was wearing a blindfold, yet seemed to look right at Sara.

  “You’re… not Meryl,” he croaked.

  Sara shook her head, “Nae, it’s me, Sara.”

  No reply.

  “Do you nae remember me? Sara Hummel. We used tae be best friends.”

  Bruno dipped his chin a little.

  “Look at me,” Sara said. “Take off your blindfold-”

  “No it’ll burn!” Bruno yelped, pushing her paws away. He then explained, “My eyes are bad.”

  “Aye. Sorry.”

  Bruno groped blindly in front of him whilst trying to slip his legs from the table. “Where’s Meryl?”

  “She’s nae here,” Sara explained. “Bruno, you cannae get up! Bruno, no!”

  “Meryl! Jan? Unnnghfffgh!”

  “There now you’ve hurt yourself!” Sara scolded, pushing Bruno back onto the table. “Lay down, for Ulf’s sake. Lay down before you split your stitches.”

  “It’s all right,” Bruno growled. “I’m not like you… I’m not normal.”

  “Oh aye? Nothing’s changed there then, ye great useless lump!”

  “What?”

  “Look, Ah don’t care if ye are a big shot Eisenwolf these days, you were run through by a sword, mister! You’re in nae fit state tae stand. Now lay down and be still; Ah’ll go fetch someone.”

  Clasping at his bandaged body, Bruno allowed Sara to lift his hefty legs back onto the table and generally reorientate him in the manner of a patient. Coughing and clearing his throat he lay under the glow of the feeble imperium lamp, his eyes protected by his blindfold.

  “You’re from before,” he rasped – it wasn’t a question.

  Sara froze for a moment. She cocked her head to one side and stood over Bruno again. “
Before?” she urged, wondering if she should.

  “Before I changed,” Bruno clarified. He frowned, then smiled with amusement, “Small… small and dark… and kinda bossy. Yeah, that’s you, ‘en it?”

  “Oh aye, and you’re perfect Ah suppose?”

  Laughing a little, Bruno reached up and felt Sara’s cheek with a big scarred thumb, as if trying to see with touch. “I can’t feel you; you’ve got no corona.”

  “Ah’m nae afflicted,” Sara explained.

  “I can see Meryl, though. Don’t tell anyone, but I can feel her and she’s not ill. I daren’t tell her, in case it scares her. I don’t like to scare her. I wouldn’t want her to get the rot, but she’s not invisible like you are. Must be something going on.”

  Bruno’s rambling died off and he let his paw flop down. With a tiny gasp, Sara blurted, “Bruno Ah’m so sorry. Ah’m sorry Ah never asked after you.”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “When they took you away. Ah should’ve done more, Ah should’ve said something tae someone! Instead Ah kept quiet and pretended you were dead, like they wanted. Ah went along with it and I shouldn’t have. Och, Ah’m so ashamed-”

  “Hey hey hey, shhh!” Bruno soothed. “Don’t get upset, yeah? I hate it when Meryl cries. It’s like I tell her, this all happened for a reason. Jan found me… she made me into something. I-I-I was nothing before she came along, just a nobody cook. I remember… s-sss-standing over a griddle… and… making waffles all day. And there was this white rabbit in an apron always telling me what to do. Cor he was bossy-”

  “Och! That’s ye dad, Bruno. That’s Casimir!”

  “Casimir?”

  “Aye, he adopted ye,” Sara explained. “Do you remember when he found you? He told me the story a hundred times. You were trapped in rubble, whimpering away and he dug ye out. It was back during the war, do ye nae remember?”

  Bruno pondered matters, big dark brow twisting this way and that. “It doesn’t matter,” he seethed, writhing free of the memories. “None of that does. What matters is that I can make a difference now, me and Janoah. I got to get well again. Get Josef, I need another sting.”