by Adam Browne
Uther stood up, determined. “Find Rumney Farm. Find the balloon. Take it out.” He spread his paws, “That’s all Janoah could give me; it’s just a hunch, but it’s what she’d do if she were Nurka, she said.”
Linus had stopped listening at balloon. “Balloon?” he woofed. “What balloon?”
“Monty Buttle’s balloon. Remember him?”
Linus was at once aghast and confused, his baby-blue eyes searching Uther’s white face for clues.
“I don’t understand, what’s that to do with anything?”
Uther took his stolen ALPHA helmet from the bed, strapped it in place and grunted, “Look I’ll explain on the way, but we need to find the way first. Like most wolfesses, Jan don’t give proper directions; all we got to go on is a district and the name of this thumping farm-”
“I never said I was going to let you go!” Linus said, raising the rapier again. “Let alone help.”
“No? Then stab me… again,” Uther said, nursing the last wound Linus had dealt him; it had healed somewhat thanks to Janoah’s sting. “But be it on your head when Amael steps over thousands of bodies to become king of Lupa. That what you want?”
Sniffing and turning slowly away, Uther exited the cabin and stole down the deserted carriage hall, passing through shafts of light from the station lanterns outside.
Ulf almighty, Linus whined in his head, rapier drooping like his tail. Grabbing his Bloodfang sword and shield, he started after his one-time partner.
“Uther wait!”
Uther stopped. Catching up to him, Linus said, “All right, but I’d better tell Vladimir all this.”
“No time fer that.”
“I can’t just go-”
“Vlad can’t do anything! He can’t send Howlers to go investigate, Amael will know, and if Amael knows he’s been rumbled he’ll call the whole thing off and kill us. He’s the Den Father now; ALPHA can’t touch him. If we don’t catch him red-pawed he’ll have Janoah killed, Vladimir killed, you killed; anyone who got in his way is dead. Then when the air is clear he’ll try again, they all will. Understand?”
Linus could but scoff.
“It’s up to us,” Uther said, raising a paw. “Now are you with me, Woodlouse?”
Linus, eventually, clasped Uther’s paw, “Wild-heart.”
*
Puffing ember vapour from her lips like one of the many engines lined up in the station, Janoah crossed the platform and located the front of the sleek blue Eisbrand train – ALPHA’s carriages were tacked on the end still, as was Rafe therefore.
Janoah started her way down.
“Who goes there?”
Sighing, the Prefect flashed her brooch at the white-cloaked Hummel Howlers speeding across the station to intercept her. “Prefect Captain Janoah Valerio,” she said, saluting.
“There’s a curfew in effect, Prefect,” the Hummels replied. “Return to the Den, at once.”
“I intend to, but the Alpha forgot his papers and sent me to collect them.” Janoah slowly produced a letter from her black cloak, one sealed with the A of ALPHA. “You’ll find this is signed by him.”
The Howlers checked it out and exchanged looks.
“Arrest me if you must,” Janoah said curtly, “but the Alpha wants those papers and if I don’t get them he’ll only have to disturb Den Mother Cora in the middle of the reception banquet-”
“Just hurry up,” the Hummels said, returning the letter.
A nod.
Janoah continued, passing twenty or so magnificent Eisbrand carriages on her way to the drab and rusty ALPHA hulks clinging to the end like the crinkled, dry, shed skin on the posterior of a colourful caterpillar. She climbed not into the Alpha’s office car to see about those phantom papers, but went straight into Josef’s lair to see about her Eisenwolf.
They were all there, Sara, Olivia and Rafe – Josef could be heard tinkering inside his van.
“How is he?” Janoah enquired, stepping into the glow of the single overhead light.
“Sleeping,” Sara whispered.
Janoah checked Rafe for herself, stroked his brow. The giant wolf frowned and licked his lips. He said something about Meryl, as usual, but Janoah couldn’t decipher it.
“You should go home,” she told Sara, without even looking at her. “You should be with Den Mother Cora and your little sisters. You hardly see them these days.”
How it was Janoah knew such things Sara daren’t guess, but the Prefect seemed to know all.
“Ah’m staying here with Bruno,” the little Hummel wolfess replied with Meryl-like primness.
“And I,” Olivia matched, hopping off a crate to stand with Sara.
“Don’t care for your family much?” Janoah needled.
“Ah’m staying here because Ah care. Bruno needs tae be better tae help stop this, doesn’t he?”
The Prefect conceded a nod.
“Well then. Anyway, mum n’ dad can manage. They got all of Hummel tae worry about, they don’t need little old me getting under their feet. They never have.”
Janoah cocked her head a little, “Thank you… for sitting with him.”
Sara looked up, blinking amazement from her eyes.
Regretting her words immediately, Janoah huffed, “Don’t expect anything from me in return,” and sauntered round the back of the black van.
A bright white light flashed from the seams in the van doors as Josef welded something to something else.
Janoah tried the doors, they were locked. “Doctor?”
“Go away!” came a tinny reply.
“It’s me!”
“I’m busy!”
“Open up!”
With a feline growl one door opened, revealing Josef covered in grease and ash, with a welding mask strapped about his frowning face. Janoah worriedly peered past him to discover Rafe’s suit in pieces on the floor; the torso here, the arms there, the backpack an unrecognisable heap of parts!
“What’re you doing?” Janoah all but shrieked, stepping aboard.
“Making adjustments-”
“Adjustments? It’s in pieces! Put it back together at once!”
“Do you want him to take on Amael and win, or die trying?” Josef mewed. “Rafe’s not going up against some nothing hyenas with pop-guns, but a dozen of Lupa’s most talented Howlers. In his state he won’t be able to fight effectively as it is. He needs a boost.”
“Boost?”
Josef’s whiskers hiked with glee. Like a professor of anatomy he went to the arms and pointed out some metallic tendons running down the inside. “I am increasing the plasma output, which means the arms need more conductors, or they will melt under the extra load,” he explained. “I’ve ran some extra ones down, as you can see.”
“Right.”
“I’ve also added an coronal field scabbard to the backpack.”
“A what?” Janoah huffed.
Josef hefted Rafe’s massive sword, just about, and held it gently over the backpack lying on the floor. Suddenly the sword was pulled down, mating with a slot in the backpack amidst sparks of plasma! Josef leapt back in shock, then adjusted his spectacles and laughed. Rubbing his paws and raising a finger at Janoah, he tried to pull the sword away - it would not budge.
“You try,” he said, gesturing politely.
Janoah looked wary.
“It’s quite safe.”
Steeling herself, Janoah picked her way through the pieces of Rafe’s deconstructed suit like a mother stepping through her child’s toys, and grasped the hilt of the sword.
“A good tug,” Josef stipulated.
Janoah pulled – the sword came away without complaint, save for an arc of plasma or two and a kind of stickiness, like invisible treacle.
“How?” the Prefect marvelled.
Josef spread a paw, “Your corona counteracts the backpack’s attractive field. Only a Howler can remove the sword, if the backpack is turned on. I was considering for some time how to conveniently hitch such a long sword to Ra
fe’s back without ungainly belts. I think it’s an elegant solution.”
Thrusting the sword at Josef, Janoah raised her paws as if washing her hands of it all. “Look, do whatever you have to do, Grau, but get it back together by morning! It’d better be working or Ulf help you.”
As Janoah about-faced, she found Olivia peering inside the secretive van, like a cub at a sweet shop window. Stepping down, Janoah pushed Olivia aside and slammed the door firmly behind her.
Josef locked it.
Janoah walked wordlessly on, leaving Olivia transfixed by the pops and flashes of Josef’s unabated welding. The white light beamed through the door cracks lighting up half her gaping face.
On her way out, Janoah stopped beside Sara and threw a green-eyed glance back at the van. “You should keep your friend away from there, if you know what’s good for her.”
Suddenly, Rafe spluttered into wakefulness.
“Jan!”
“Rafe?” Janoah said, coming over. “I’m here. It’s all right.”
“Someone’s… outside,” the blindfolded Rafe grunted, twisting on the table. “Powerful… familiar. Yeah, yeah, he was at the refinery.”
“One of the Chakaa hyenas?”
“Dunno… can’t remember. It’s getting stronger.”
Janoah drew her rapier and hurried to the carriage’s coupling doors.
She scanned the station.
Yes, someone was out here; two someone’s, their cloaked shapes stealing across the platform. Janoah hopped across and hid against the opposite carriage. She waited for the strangers to pass her, then jumped down with her pistol.
“Hold it right there,” she said.
The figures froze.
“Paws up. Slowly, mind. Turn around-”
“Jan, it’s me.”
A frown, a scoff, “Uther?”
“Aye.”
Both wolves turned around.
“Linus?” Janoah seethed in further incredulity.
“Marm,” replied the blonde Howler; his red cloak appeared almost black in the feeble light, and his build resembled a hyena more than the average wolf.
Janoah looked about for Hummels, then beckoned her ex-comrades over into the shadows. “By Ulf you should be halfway across Everdor by now!” she hissed at Uther. “The farm’s in Grunrose, you fool, not Hummelton. What’re you still doing here?”
“I couldn’t waltz about in plain sight; the station was crawling with beasts. I had to wait for nightfall.”
“You’re in disguise!”
“Puh! ALPHA uniform is like a beacon out here, not a disguise. This is Hummelton, not Lupa, even I know that.”
Exasperated, Janoah turned to Linus, “And what do you want, Mills?”
“To help,” he replied.
“Help? You?”
“If what Uther says is true, then I’d rather do something than sit here waiting to be gassed from the sky.”
“Then you know,” Janoah breathed. “It’s just a theory. I could be wrong, but it’s-”
“What you’d do,” Linus finished. “Sounds logical.”
The Prefect nodded, glanced around, moved on. “Grunrose is on the other side of Everdor; you’ll need transport to make it before dawn. I don’t care who you have to clonk over the head, just get on a mono and get going, now!”
“W-www-we need a map,” Linus stammered for the first time in a while; it was Janoah, she was simply too intimidating for words!
“Map?” she spat, looking at Linus as if he were a perfect idiot.
“Well d-d-directions, m-mmm-marm. Anything.”
“By Ulf’s fangs ask someone when you get to Grunrose. Stop at a village. Use your brains, Howlers-”
“Ah can help.”
Everyone looked up at Sara, peering down at them from the carriage door.
“Ah can get ye a bike,” she claimed boldly, “and Ah know the way tae Rumney Farm, more or less.”
Chapter 49
Noss paced Nurka’s tent, steeling himself for the task at paw, planning his words. Suddenly he was disturbed by hyena snarls and whoops filling the cold night air of Kambi Mata. Peering through the tent flaps, the prince was horrified to see Madou and Themba at the head of a gang of hyenas dragging a muddied, bound Howler after them.
Tomek!
Noss emerged at once, striding towards Madou. “What’s going on here?”
“You tell me, my Prince,” Madou replied, his voice tinged with a caustic, sarcastic sting well above his rank.
Big Themba bowed and grumbled, “This… traitor stole a truck, my Prince, him and Casimir.”
Tomek was duly dropped to the ground and kicked.
“Touch him again and I’ll kill you!” Noss barked at the lesser hyenas, making them bow and scrape at once. He could see no sign of Casimir, which meant he was either dead, or on his way to Hummelton. “Stole a truck?” the prince mocked his fellow Chakaa. “For what purpose?”
“To escape and warn the Howlers of our intention to attack tomorrow,” Themba explained, or just assumed.
“But the Howlers surely know we’re to attack the Summit.”
“They know when,” Madou corrected, “but not how.”
“None of us know Nurka’s plan, certainly not Tomek.”
“Not even you, my Prince?” Madou asked.
Noss dodged the question, “Madou, Themba, this must be a misunderstanding. Nurka obviously sent Casimir to fulfil some task and Tomek joined him.”
“I don’t think so, my Prince.”
“Well I do, Madou!” Noss said, flashing his teeth. “This wolf saved all our lives, including mine, and this is how you repay him, with doubt and brutality?”
Madou said soberly, “It’s because he did those things in the caves that he’s not already dead.”
Noss growled, “And where’s the rabbit, Casimir?”
“He is dead.”
“By your paw, Chakaa Madou?”
Chakaa Madou said nothing, but averted his purple eyes to the camp. “Where’s Nurka? Find him someone; we must have this out with him here to listen-”
“We’ll have this out now!” Noss snarled. “Untie this wolf at once.”
“No.”
“Madou… do you defy me, your anointed Prince?”
A sharp breath, a raised chin, “I do.”
Noss nodded, grunted, then suddenly reached out with a big paw, slapping it to Madou’s chest with a spectacular blast of plasma.
Pfffzaack!
“Gahaaagh-gah!” Madou somersaulted through the night air and thudded on his back. Sitting up at once he coughed and kicked his way back a few feet, grasping at his throbbing chest all the way, his cloak blackened and smouldering in the shape of Noss’s paw.
“My Prince!” Themba snarled indignantly, turning on Noss with his hammer in paws.
“You too?” Noss enquired, focussing his furious eyes on Themba. “Usurper are we, Chakaa Themba?”
The big hyena withered before the prince’s glare. “Tomek was… he was trying to escape-”
Grasping Themba’s hammer in one paw, Noss channelled an imperious bolt down the shaft, shocking Themba into letting go with a painful yelp.
“Yowffgh!”
The Prince swung the hefty hammer away with contempt, flinging it across the camp like a champion athlete, which he was, an imperium-fuelled one. “Wave your hammer at me again, boy, and I’ll kill you!” he bellowed. He looked at Themba, Madou and the lesser hyenas cowering roundabout, most of them with their noses touching mud by now. “Be glad a Prince rules you. When my ferocious grandmother ruled the Jua-mata, she had hyenas staked out in the sun for so much as a curt word against our royal blood! How soft we’ve grown. How fat. No wonder we’re reduced to such cowardly acts as gassing beasts with black-imperium to get our own way! It disgusts me that you stoop even this low, but Nurka… he would have you crawl lower yet, on your bellies, like worms!”
At that moment Nurka himself strode into the camp at the head of a swarm of h
yenas, a hundred or more by the looks. With black and white banners tied to glowing imperium spears like an army of old, they filed into Kambi Mata.
One of the banners depicted a black circle ringed by tight, eye-watering zigzags that bent one’s vision. Looking out from the centre of this dazzling, sun-like halo was the painted white face of a hyena, eyeless like a skull, yet furred, as if half rotted, the dry hide still clinging to the bleached bones. It resembled the living hyenas standing beneath, only far more terrifying. The flag was effective not for its fangs, but for its haunting, dead-eyed gaze.
Upon meeting said gaze, Prince Noss felt he was looking upon an old friend. This was the flag of his once mighty tribe, the Jua-mata, banned from the Reservations and not seen flying for years. What a glorious sight!
And yet how wretched, Noss thought, flying under THORN.
Nurka stopped some yards distant from the transfixed Noss, and raising his right paw halted his hyena army behind him. The column ceased their advance and stood in silence.
“What’s going on here?” Nurka rasped, paws tucked behind back as usual. He looked between Themba and Madou, then to Noss, drawing his eyes from the flag at last, “I step out for five minutes and you’re all at each other’s throats, even you my Prince.”
Madou scrabbled to his feet and clasping his aching chest stumbled over to Nurka. “Chief,” he said.
“Madou, you’re wounded.”
“Chief… Tomek and Casimir-”
“Yes, I know,” Nurka cut him short, clapping a paw to Madou’s burly shoulder and shaking him. “Well done running them down, not that it matters.” He looked to Noss, “Amael’s conspirators have infiltrated Hummel as completely as the rest of the packs; Howlers, Watchers, Politzi, there are sympathisers posted at all key positions. Any warning will be intercepted and not passed to their Den Mother Cora, or anyone else.” Brushing past Madou, Nurka spread a reasonable paw at Noss, “My Prince, the rot must be bad with you today. I propose we go to your tent and speak privately-”
“My mind has never been clearer!” Noss replied, with a menacing tooth-flash. “The white-imperium I was necessitated to take in Gelb, may the Sky forgive me, has… reinvigorated my mind. I swear, I’m like a new hyena. Hahahahaaa!”
Nurka’s nostrils flared beneath his skull helm. “As you must be, my Prince, to laugh at such a sacrilegious act!”
