by Adam Browne
Stay safe, dear Jan. And goodbye.
A slit in the cave wall; Rufus stopped thinking, stopped moving, rooted by fear. Steeling himself, he edged over, his brooch light revealing them; dozens of black canisters, all marked with red X’s and warnings. Each one contained a million drops of black-imperium, a million deadly doses, in theory enough to kill the entire population of Lupa.
The great taboo had been broken by the hyenas, of all the races they have been pushed here first, and by my own arrogant kind. War waged by black-imperium, chemical warfare, the end of civilisation, was knocking at the world’s gate. It will start here today if I don’t stop it. I have to save us from ourselves.
Rufus marched into the cave and seized one of the canisters by its bright red valve. Just do it, Howler. Do it now!
“Forgive me, Jan,” Rufus whined, attacking the stiff valve with both paws. Flecks of rust fell away from the canister and arcs of plasma sparked off Rufus’s powerful arms as he summoned all his imperious might to overcome both years of corrosion and the phobia of eons.
Pffffsssssssss!
The black cloud issued forth, the air went opaque, poisoning everything in the cave forever. Rufus kept twisting the valve, eyes closed, lungs held, resisting the will to take flight a moment longer even as every muscle in his legs turned to jelly.
Enough!
He whirled away, his breath held still, and staggered through the cave. His arms were blackened, though he dare not look close and witness them decomposing before his eyes. It would start there and work its way through, you know it’s true. There’s no escape. None. If I can just see the stars again.
Into the moonlight, through the thorn bushes, Rufus fell, rolled, trembling into a ball, his paws tucked close as if to try and shore them up against disintegration.
It doesn’t hurt. That’s good. Perhaps it doesn’t hurt? Must be the adrenaline. Thank Ulf.
Time passed. Rufus panted. Shook.
He came to realise he was still here, still feeling, and apart from his old wounds no worse for wear. He slowly unravelled his arms and inspected his quivering paws before the light of his brooch.
They were black, but intact, fur and flesh still clinging to bone. How could it be?
“Don’t worry, Red-mist,” Nurka rasped – his voice was unmistakable even at a distance. “You’ll live. Perhaps long enough to see Lupa fall.”
Rufus remained where he lay as panting hyenas surrounded him with glowing imperious spear tips. Nurka stepped to the fore, paws behind back with outward calm, purple eyes shimmering with inner fury.
“They’re just canisters of ash,” he stated simply.
“A decoy,” Rufus realised, falling back on the soil, relieved and yet appalled at his own gullibility.
“Correct,” Nurka confirmed, reaching down and rubbing his fingers on a length of Rufus’s blackened cloak, then tasting the acrid ash on his tongue, as if to prove it harmless. “I showed our prince this place. I see he told you where to find it. Ironic that I long-expected him, a hyena, to betray us, but not you, a wolf. I thought you were our only true friend amongst your kind. Live and learn.”
“I’m a friend of justice,” Rufus replied, a spear tickling his chin, “but this isn’t the way, Nurka. Please… think of what you’re embarking upon-”
“I’ve thought ten years about it!” Nurka blasted, shaking a plasmatic fist. “Since I watched your people pitch my family into their graves I’ve thought about nothing else!”
“My family was murdered too!”
Nurka paused a moment. “In your Wolfen Wars, in great combat between packs, as hyena tribes warring! What’s that honourable end compared to being swept up and squashed like lice?”
Rufus shot back, “No, Nurka! No. My family was murdered. It was before the war, back when I was just a cub. My mother was killed for being a Howler, my father for being married to a Howler, and my siblings for being the offspring of Howlers. It didn’t matter how guilty my mother was, or my father, or how innocent my brothers and sisters, they were all lumped in together as the enemy. And do you know who rounded them up and shot them as I hid in the loft like a coward?”
Silence.
“A mob of little beasts, just like Casimir, driven to hate by misery and oppression, as he was. But I do not hold it against his whole people. That way madness lies.”
Nurka’s nostrils flared.
“Drop your black death on Lupa,” Rufus said, “and you will open the door to the end of civilisation. The Dead Cities stand as testament to that! Do you want to set us back a thousand years, or do you want to help find the answer?”
“Answer?”
“A cure, Nurka, for the rot. If anyone knew it, or was even close, our ancestors were. The technology that lies out there may hold the key to ending all our suffering-”
“Enough of your wolfen lies!” Nurka spat, snatching a spear and ramming the blunt butt into Rufus’s raw belly, causing the Howler to curl up in pain.
“Gaaagffrrgh!”
“The answer is an end to your vile technology and of the rape of Mother Erde!” the chief decreed, throwing the spear down. “Wire him!” he sniffed at his hyenas. “Let our Queen decide what’s to be done with him.”
*
It was a good fight, but even Noss was no match for an army. For a time none dared look at him, let alone strike him, their infallible, untouchable Prince, but Arjana was Queen and if she decreed her husband was no longer fit to rule then that was as certain as the sun rising tomorrow. He was sick in his mind, she said. For his own protection he had to be taken down. We are doing him a favour. They attacked tentatively at first, their timid spears knocked aside by Noss’s ferocious swings. Urged on by their Queen they grew bolder, until the dam of sanity broke all out fighting ensued with hyenas coming at Noss from all around. He sent them on their way with swift spear-blows to the head and neck, twisting, turning, spinning, plasma arcing down the shaft and ejecting challengers from the living arena. With every hyena that was felled Noss grew weaker, his paws burning, his soul sapping, until Big Themba himself overcame his last dregs of lingering respect and entered the fray with a great hammer-blow out of left field, breaking Noss’s spear in two and diving on him.
“Hahahaaaahaha!” Noss bellowed as they rolled in the mud. “Come on then, Thembaaahahahaaaa!”
They wrestled with Themba’s hammer, itself sparking with plasma. The head glowed red-hot, then the whole shaft became unbearable to hold and the two Chakaa had to let it fall sizzling in a puddle.
After a brief exchange of plasmatic thumps and blows to the snout, ribs and belly each, Themba kicked Noss away. They separated, circled one another, panting, paws smouldering, noses bleeding. Tomek lay forgotten, lost to Noss amongst the tumult of bodies, smell of gore and singed fur.
“My Prince!” Themba begged. “Stop this!”
“Stop?” Noss laughed. “My wife is mad, my pupils murderers and my children dead, there is nothing left to do now but die!” he seethed at Themba, thumping his mighty chest with both fists. “Come on, cub, you can do iiiit!”
As Themba steeled himself for a second bout, someone pushed through the hyenas and grabbed the hammer, now cooled in the puddle.
It was Madou!
In the noise and violence, Noss failed to notice the stocky hyena coming up behind him until the hammer struck him square in the back with a mighty blast. Amidst a distinctly hyena yelp, Noss flew forward and tumbled across the impromptu arena, hyenas retreating from his sacred body as he rolled to a stop, his back smoking from the blow. He tried to rise, chuckled a moment, then fell flat on his chin, his tongue lolling.
It was over.
Madou dropped the hammer with a start and looked at his offending paws.
“I struck… a prince!” he wailed. “What’ve I done? Themba, I’ve killed our Prince!”
Themba hurried over and held Madou’s wrists firm, lest he used them to injure himself in retribution. “Calm yourself, Madou!”
&nbs
p; “But-”
“It is the Queen’s will! It is her will. You are absolved of any crime.”
Madou both nodded and shook his head all at once.
The silent sea of shocked hyenas parted in a wave and bowed as Queen Arjana herself approached. Themba and Madou fell on their knees, grovelling at her black-robed passing. She glided over to the downed Noss and, after a considerable pause, knelt and placed a tentative paw on his back.
“The Prince lives,” she declared, standing up and raising her paws to the sacred Sky in thanks. “Tend to him,” she commanded, stepping back and allowing her hyenas to carry him away whilst she followed. “Take him to our tent. His madness will pass and he will see. When all is done, he will understand.”
*
Hummelton was under curfew and security around castle-like Den was tight, but Sara Hummel not only knew all the back alleys and passages of her humble home town, but also how to spin a convincing yarn as an accoutrement to her evidently formidable status around here.
“Who goes there?” a Hummel Howler growled – a Halberdier in fact, dripping with armour and looking ferocious indeed. “Sara?” he gasped, raising his kristahl halberd as the distinctively dinky daughter of Den Mother Cora crossed the gloomy courtyard and approached the Den’s garage. An athletic Alpha Prefect and a barrel-chested Bloodfang accompanied Sara.
A strange trio to be sure.
“You’re back,” the Hummel Halberdier scoffed, eying up the competition, “and with company Ah see.”
Sara beamed, “Aye, Grant, Ah’m back again,” and flapped a paw about. “Ah’m just showing some friends around, is that all right?”
“Does yer mum know?” asked this big Grant chap, scowling at the two obvious city-slickers.
“Aye, of course! Anything tae get me out of her fur. Ah have nae been here fer five minutes and she’s already full tae the back teeth with mah ‘daft opinions’.”
Big Grant woofed, “Ah’m sure that’s nae true. Ah missed ye. We all have.”
“Och, away with ye, charmer!”
“‘Tis the truth! Us Halberdiers nae tell fibs.”
Whilst Sara took Grant’s keys from his belt and opened a small door built into the larger garage door, Grant tapped his halberd on the cobbles and said, “You know there’s a curfew.”
“Aye, but on the streets only, nae in here.”
“Aye, but-”
“We’ll be five minutes,” Sara claimed, returning the keys. “Mah friends like bikes, is all. They’ve nae seen our quaint Hummel monos before.”
“What, our tracked bikes you mean?”
“Aye, the funny tracked sort.”
“They’re duo’s, Sara, nae monos. Got two wheels. And they’re nae ‘quaint’ at all or ‘funny’.”
“Aye, alright, whatever,” Sara shrugged. “Ah’m nae into them like you are.”
“Puh!” Uther tutted at Grant, “Wolfesses, eh mate?”
Snorting, Halberdier Grant looked Uther over with obvious disdain, but Sara drew his ire away with easy charm and distracting words, until, before the Halberdier knew it, she and the two strangers had disappeared inside the garage.
“Smooth ‘en yer,” Uther gruffed, once inside the dark, heady-smelling space.
“Smoother than you, you nearly blew it,” Sara hissed back.
“Me?”
“Keep yer chauvinism fer Lupa, Howler, this is Hummel.”
Linus kept the peace, paws raised, voice lowered, “What now, Sara?”
Sara answered by reaching for the imperium gas lamp dial, turning the lights up until two rows of white-bodied bikes emerged from the gloom.
“There’s yer ride,” she said, gesturing at them. “Ah’ll distract Grant; Ah can get him away from the door for ten minutes whilst you slip out. We’re… old friends.”
Linus had to ask, “Old friends?”
Sara didn’t answer, not the question at least. “Go slow n’ quiet out the Den,” she said, tidying her fur. “Nobody will stop ye, they only really care about those coming in, nae out. At night ye Howlers all look the same anyway-”
“Where’s the keys?” Uther asked, jingling an invisible set in front of Sara’s button nose.
“Keys?”
“Aye! For the monos.”
“Oh, no, you just turn them on here.”
“Puh! Whatcha mean?”
“This is Hummelton, nae Lupa,” Sara explained. She showed Uther to the nearest vehicle and the big red button on the right-paw side of the kristahl steering bars. “Just press start. Alright?”
“Hah!” the street-wise Uther marvelled. “You Hummel lot wouldn’t last five minutes in Lupa.”
“Says more about Lupa than us,” Sara countered deftly.
Grunting his acknowledgement, Uther knelt down and felt the Hummel bike’s main wheel. The rubber tyre was absent, replaced by a caterpillar track slung between the large, dominant wheel and a small subsidiary wheel trailing behind, altogether forming a rounded-off triangle in profile. Possessed of two wheels, this was strictly speaking a duo in wolfen parlance, not a mono.
“Well, it sure ain’t a Valerio,” Uther said, grabbing a sloshing can of imperium fuel, “but it’ll have to do. We got a long ride ahead of us, Linus, best top up, mate.”
“Shouldn’t we take the normal ones?” Linus argued, standing by a ‘normal one’, by which he meant a familiar, Giacomo Springtail mono.
“Not over rough terrain, mate. This is Everdor. We might need to go off-road and tracks are best.”
“Right. Good thinking.”
Sara said, “Give me a few minutes tae take care of Grant,” before tugging on Linus’s red hood. “Ye got the map?”
Linus delved into his cloak pocket and unfurled the map Sara had scrawled on a piece of paper earlier. Janoah had provided said paper from the Alpha’s office and it was watermarked with their infamous ‘A’, as well as some discarded thoughts by the Alpha himself written in near-illegible doctor’s script – the mark of a genius Janoah had insisted. Something about hyenas, camps, new age and coming together, Linus hadn’t time to decipher it through Sara’s road lines and landmarks.
“It’s only a rough guide,” Sara sighed. “It’s all Ah can remember from out Monty’s car window.”
“It’s fine,” Linus assured, tucking it away.
“Ah could guide you if Ah came with you-”
“No! No it’s too dangerous.”
“For a wolfess?” Sara huffed.
Taking one of those black paws in his golden digits, Linus grunted soberly, “For anyone but a Howler.”
A nod, a smile, a “Good luck,” then Sara was away.
“And you,” Linus replied.
Sara Hummel nodded, then stepped out via the small door nestled within the main door – Linus decided that he and Uther should squeeze their monos, or duos, through that same door instead of noisily opening the large garage door and disturbing half the Den.
Sara’s muffled words were at first impossible to interpret, but Linus tuned in well enough to get the jist of things.
“Come on, let’s snuggle,” Sara chirped.
“What, now?” Grant replied.
“Aye. Just fer a minute. Ah’ve missed ye.”
“Ah’m on duty.”
“And Ah’m going back tae Lupa straight after the Summit.”
A long silence.
“It’s now or never, Grant.”
“All right, but just a minute. I can’t get caught again.”
Sara giggled in a way Linus had never heard before, “Nae here, silly, come on, round the corner.”
Their chatter and giggling faded into the distance, along with the Halberdier’s hefty armoured footsteps. The wolfess had successfully coaxed the wolf away from his duties.
Uther chuckled drily and shook his head. Linus was not remotely amused, but consoled himself with the thought that Sara didn’t mean it.
By Ulf, why do I care so much? We’re just friends.
“You know,
” Linus grunted, mounting his bike, “when this is over, I’ll have to arrest you again.”
“You can try,” Uther replied, pulling his hood up.
“You should slip away and leave this to me.”
“What? And let you get pummelled by hyenas? I’d never forgive myself.”
Linus dipped his chin and snorted with mirth; Uther laughed and then started his bike with a kick. “These duos are a bit different to monos, Woodlouse, but I’ll go slow for ya until you stop wobbling, you still being a learner ‘en all.”
Linus started his own ‘duo’, “You just try and keep up with me.”
“Haha-haaa! Woodlouse! Seems like only yesterday you were a right timid little louse.”
Linus’s ears drooped, “I was never that timid, was I?”
Uther thought back to the day he and Linus had faced down that Howler-killer. “No. No I guess you weren’t. Heh.”
Outside, in the pretty Hummelton Den gardens, beside a fountain decorated with stone insects, Sara kept Halberdier Grant busy with stolen affection. The thrum of bike engines was subdued by the clinking of glass and bawdy laughter from within the nearby great hall as Cora Hummel threw a welcoming feast for her fellow Howlers.
Out the corner of her eyes, Sara spied Linus and Uther ride sedately through the courtyard, engines popping. Their passing drew Halberdier Grant’s attention for a moment, before Sara pulled him back into her embrace.
“Never mind them, ye daft beast,” she said, kissing him firmly.
“Och! Sara.”
Through the main gates Linus rode, Uther following, the Hummel Halberdiers there paying little heed. Sara was right, leaving the den was obviously still allowed for now. Even with a curfew, Hummel Howlers were still about their business. The quaint Hummelton roads were otherwise devoid of activity, no cars, no citizens, just the streetlights and stars for company, and the occasional Howler pair doing the rounds. Few were perturbed by the passing of two wolves on bikes – at a glance, and by intermittent yellowish imperium streetlamps, nobody could rightly tell Hummel from Bloodfang, or even a supposed Prefect. Besides, no doubt everyone had been instructed to look out for hyenas.
