Vampire Mountain - Даррен Шэн 7 стр.


"Second, the Stone of Blood is necessary to operate the doors of the dome. When a vampire becomes a Prince, the Stone is a vital part of the ceremony. He forms a circle around it with two other Princes. They each use a hand to pump blood into him, while laying their other hand on the Stone. Blood flows from the old Princes to the new Prince, then to the Stone, and back again. By the end of the ceremony, the new Prince can control the doors of the Hall. Without the Stone, he would be a Prince in name only.

"There is a third reason why we do not destroy the Stone — the Lord of the Vampaneze." His face was dark. "The myth says that the Vampaneze Lord will wipe the vampire race from the face of the Earth when he comes to power, but through the Stone of Blood we might one night rise again."

"How's that possible?" I asked.

"We do not know," Mr. Crepsley said. "But those were the words of Mr. Tiny, and since the power of the Stone is also his, it makes sense to pay heed. Now more than ever, we must protect the Stone. Harkat's message concerning the Vampaneze Lord has struck at the hearts and spirits of many vampires. With the Stone, there is hope. To dispose of it now would be to surrender to fear."

"Charna's guts!" Kurda snorted. "I've no time for those old myths. We should get rid of the Stone, shut down the dome, and build a new Hall of Princes. Apart from anything else, it's one of the main reasons the vampaneze are loath to make a deal with us. They don't want to be hooked up to a magical tool of Mr. Tiny's, and who can blame them? They're afraid of bonding with the Stone — they could never split from the vampire clan if they did, because we'd be able to use the Stone to hunt them down. If we removed the Stone, they might return to us, and then the vampaneze would be no more — there'd be one big family of vampires — and the threat of the Vampaneze Lord would evaporate."

"Does that mean you will be seeking to destroy the Stone when you are a Prince?" Mr. Crepsley inquired.

"I'll mention the possibility." Kurda nodded. "It's a sensitive issue, and I don't expect the Generals to agree to it, but in time, as negotiations between ourselves and the vampaneze develop, I hope they'll come around to my way of thinking."

"Did you make this clear when you were seeking election?" Mr. Crepsley asked.

Kurda shifted uncomfortably. "Well, no, but that's politics. Sometimes you have to hold things back. I didn't lie about it. If anyone had asked me for my views on the Stone, I'd have told them. They just … didn't … ask," he finished lamely.

"Politics!" Mr. Crepsley huffed. "It is a sad day for vampires when our Princes voluntarily ensnare themselves in the despicable webs of politics." Sticking his nose in the air, he turned his back on Kurda and stared straight ahead at the platform.

"I've upset him," Kurda whispered to me.

"He's easily upset," I said with a grin. Then I asked ifI'd have to bond with the Stone of Blood.

"Probably not until you become a full vampire,"

Kurda said. "Half-vampires have been allowed to bond with it in the past, but not in the normal run of things."

I was going to ask more about the mysterious Stone of Blood and the dome, but then a serious-looking General banged the floor of the platform with a heavy staff and announced my name, along with Mr. Crepsley's.

It was time to meet the Princes.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE THREE VAMPIRE PRINCESin attendance were Paris Skyle, Mika Ver Leth, and Arrow. (The absent Prince was called Vancha March.)

Paris Skyle had a long gray beard, flowing white hair, and no right ear, and he was the oldest living vampire, at eight hundred earth years or more. He was worshiped by the others, not only for his immense age and position, but for his exploits when he was younger — according to the legends, Paris Skyle had been everywhere and done everything. A lot of the tales were outrageous — he'd sailed with Columbus to America and introduced vampirism to the New World, fought beside Joan of Arc (a vampire sympathizer, apparently), and provided the inspiration for Bram Stoker's infamousDracula. But that didn't mean the tales weren't true — vampires were, by their very existence,amazing creatures.

Mika Ver Leth was the youngest Vampire Prince, a "mere" two hundred and seventy. He had shiny black hair and piercing eyes, like a raven's, and he dressed all in black. He looked even sterner than Mr. Crepsley — his forehead was creased with wrinkles, as were the sides of his mouth — and I got the feeling he rarely smiled, if at all.

Arrow was a thickly built bald man, with long tattoos of arrows adorning his arms and the sides of his head. He was a fearsome fighter whose hatred of the vampaneze was legendary. He'd been married to a human before becoming a General, but she had been killed by a vampaneze who'd come to fight Arrow. He returned to the fold, sullen and withdrawn, and trained to be a General. Since then he had devoted himself to his work, to the exclusion of all else.

All three Princes were burly, muscular men. Even the ancient Paris Skyle looked like he could toss an ox over his shoulder using a single hand.

"Greetings, Larten," Paris said to Mr. Crepsley, stroking his long gray beard and studying the vampire with warm eyes. "It is good to see you in the Hall of Princes. I did not think I would look upon your face again."

"I vowed I would be back," Mr. Crepsley replied, bowing before the Prince.

"I never doubted it." Paris smiled. "I just did not think I would be alive to welcome you. I have grown long of tooth, old friend. My nights are numbered."

"You will outlive us all, Paris," Mr. Crepsley said.

"We shall see," Paris said with a sigh. He fixed his gaze on me while Mr. Crepsley bowed to the other Princes. When the vampire returned to my side, the old Prince said, "This must be your assistant — Darren Shan. Gavner Purl has spoken approvingly of him."

"He is of good blood and strong heart," Mr. Crepsley said. "A fine assistant, who will one night make a first-rate vampire."

"One nightindeed!" Mika Ver Leth snorted, squinting at me in a way I didn't like. "He's just aboy! This is no time for children to be admitted to our ranks. What possessed you to —"

"Please, Mika," Paris Skyle interrupted. "Let us not speak rashly. All here know the character of Larten Crepsley. We must treat him with the respect he has earned. I do not know why he chose to blood a child, but I am certain he can explain."

"I just think it's crazy, in this night and age." Mika Ver Leth grumbled his way to silence. When he was still, Paris turned to me and smiled.

"You must forgive us, Darren, if we seem discourteous. We are unused to children. It has been a long time since any were presented before us."

"I'm not really a child," I muttered. "I've been a half-vampire for eight years. It's not my fault my body hasn't aged."

"Precisely!" Mika Ver Leth snapped. "It's the fault of the vampire who blooded you. He —"

"Mika!" Paris snapped. "This vampire of noble standing and his assistant have come before us in good faith, to seek our approval. Whether we grant it or not, they deserve to be heard politely, not challenged rudely in front of their colleagues."

Mika collected himself, stood, and bowed to us. "Sorry," he said through gritted teeth. "I spoke out of turn. I will not do so again."

A murmur spread through the Hall. From the whispers, I gathered that it was most unusual for a Prince to apologize to an inferior, especially one who was no longer a General.

"Come, Larten," Paris said, as chairs were brought forward for us. "Sit and tell us what you have been up to since last we met."

Once we were seated, Mr. Crepsley ran through his story. He told the Princes of his association with the Cirque Du Freak, the places he'd been, the people he'd met. When he came to the part about Murlough, he asked to speak to the Princes in private. He told them in whispers of the mad vampaneze, and how we'd killed him. They were disturbed by the news.

"This is worrisome," Paris mused aloud. "If the vampaneze find out, they could use it as an excuse to start a war!"

"How could they?" Mr. Crepsley responded. "I am no longer part of the clan."

"If they were suitably enraged, they could overlook that," Mike Ver Leth said. "If the rumor of the Vampaneze Lord is true, we must tread very carefully where our blood cousins are concerned."

"Still," Arrow said, contributing to the conversation for the first time, "I don't think Larten erred. It would be different if he were a General, but as a free agent, he is not bound by our laws. Were I in his position, I'd have done the same thing. He acted discreetly. I don't think we can fault him for that."

"No," Mika agreed. Glancing at me, he added, "Not forthat. "

With the matter of Murlough out of the way, we returned to our chairs and raised our voices so that everyone in the Hall could hear.

"Now," Paris Skyle said, adopting a grave expression. "It is time we returned to the business of your assistant. We all know that the world has changed vastly these last few centuries. Humans are more protective of one another and their laws are stricter than ever, particularly with regard to their young. That is why we no longer blood children. Even in the past, we blooded few of them. It has been ninety years since we last added a child to our ranks. Tell us, Larten, why you decided to break with recent tradition."

Mr. Crepsley cleared his throat and locked eyes with the Princes, one after the other, until they settled on Mika. "I have no valid reason," he said calmly, and the Hall erupted into barely contained shouts and muffled, hurried conversations.

"There will be quiet in the Hall!" Paris shouted, and all noise ceased at once. He looked troubled when he faced us. "Come, Larten, do not play games. You would not blood a boy out of simple whimsy. There must be a reason. Did you kill his parents, perhaps, and decide it was your place to take care of him?"

"His parents are alive," Mr. Crepsley said.

"Both of them?" Mika snapped.

"Yes."

"Then they are looking for him?" Paris asked.

"No. We faked his death. They buried him. They think he is dead."

"That much at least you did right," Paris murmured. "But why blood him in the first place?" When Mr. Crepsley didn't answer, Paris turned to me and asked, "Darren? Doyou know why he blooded you?"

Hoping to bail the vampire out of trouble, I said, "I found out the truth about him, so maybe part of it was to protect himself — he might have figured that he had to make me his assistant or kill me."

"That is a reasonable excuse," Paris noted.

"But not the truth," Mr. Crepsley said, and sighed. "I was never afraid of being exposed by Darren. In fact, the only reason he discovered the truth about me was because I tried to blood a friend of his, a boy his own age."

The Hall erupted into controversy, and it took the barking Princes several minutes to quiet the vampires. When order was finally restored, Paris resumed the questioning, more troubled than ever. "You tried to bloodanother boy?"

Mr. Crepsley nodded. "But his blood was tainted with evil — he would not have made a good vampire."

"Let me get this straight," Mika said angrily. "You tried blooding one boy, but couldn't; his friend found out, so you blooded him instead?"

"That is about the sum of it," Mr. Crepsley agreed. "I also blooded him in a rush, without revealing the full truth of our ways, which was unpardonable. In my defense I will add that I studied him at great length before blooding him, and was convinced of his honesty and strength of character when I did."

"What drew you to the first boy — the one with evil blood?" Paris asked.

"He knew who I was. He had seen a portrait of me in an old book, drawn long ago when I was using the name of Vur Horston. He asked to become my assistant."

"Didn't you explain our ways to him?" Mika asked. "Didn't you tell him we don't blood children?"

"I tried, but …" Mr. Crepsley shook his head miserably. "It was as though I had no control over myself. I knew it was wrong, but I would have blooded him regardless, if not for his foul blood. I cannot explain why, because I do not understand it."

"You'll have to come up with a better argument than that," Mika warned him.

"I cannot," Mr. Crepsley said softly, "because I have none."

There was a polite cough behind us and Gavner Purl stepped forward. "May I intervene on my friend's behalf?" he asked.

"By all means," Paris said. "We welcome your input, if it can clear things up."

"I don't know if it can do that," Gavner said, "but I'd like to note that Darren is an extraordinary boy. He made the trek to Vampire Mountain — no small feat for one his age — and fought a bear poisoned with vampaneze blood along the way. I'm sure you have heard of his contest with Arra Sails a few nights ago."

"We have." Paris chuckled.

"He is bright and brave, wily and honest. I believe he has the makings of a fine vampire. Given the chance, I think he'll excel. He's young, but younger vampires than him have come through the ranks. You were only two years old when you were blooded, weren't you, sire?" he asked Paris Skyle.

"That's not the point!" Mika Ver Leth shouted. "This boy could be the next Khledon Lurt and it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference. Facts are facts — vampires no longer blood children. It will set a dangerous precedent if we let this pass without taking action."

"Mika is right," Arrow said softly. "The boy's courage and ability are not the issue. Larten acted poorly in blooding the boy, and we must address that."

Paris nodded slowly. "They speak the truth, Larten. It would be wrong of us to ignore this. You yourself would never have tolerated such a breach of the rules were you in our position."

"I know," Mr. Crepsley said with a sigh. "I do not seek forgiveness, merely consideration. And I ask that no reprisals be taken against Darren. The fault is mine, and I alone should be punished."

"I don't know aboutpunishment, " Mika said uncomfortably. "I'm not out to make an example of you. Dragging your good name through the muck is the last thing on my mind."

"None of us wish to do that," Arrow agreed. "But what option have we? He did wrong — we must address that wrong."

"But we must address it mercifully," Paris mused.

"I ask for no mercy," Mr. Crepsley said stiffly. "I am not a young vampire who acted out of ignorance. I expect no special treatment. If you decide I am to be executed, I will accept your verdict without complaint. If—"

"They can't kill you because ofme! " I gasped.

"If you decide I must be tested," he continued, ignoring my outburst, "I will rise to any challenge you care to set, and die meeting it if I must."

"There will be no challenge," Paris huffed. "We reserve challenges for those who have not proven themselves in battle. I will say once again — your good standing is not in question."

"Perhaps … ," Arrow said hesitantly, then lapsed into silence. A few seconds later, he resumed. "I think I have it. The talk of challenges gave me an idea. Thereis a way to resolve this without killing our old friend or soiling his good name." Pointing a finger at me, he said coolly, "Let's set a challenge for theboy. "

CHAPTER TWENTY

THERE WAS A LONG, thoughtful silence. "Yes," Paris Skyle finally murmured. "A challenge for the boy."

"I said I did not want to bring Darren into this!" Mr. Crepsley objected.

"No," Mika contradicted him. "You said you didn't want him to bepunished. Well, he won't be — a challenge is not a punishment."

"It is fair, Larten," Paris agreed. "If the boy proves himself in a test, your decision to blood him will be accepted and no more need be said about it."

"And the dishonor will behis if he fails," Arrow added.

Mr. Crepsley scratched his long facial scar. "It is an honest solution," he mused, "but the decision is Darren's, not mine. I will not force a challenge on him."

He turned to me. "Are you prepared to prove yourself to the clan and clear our names?"

I fidgeted uneasily on my chair. "Um … what sort of a challenge are we talking about exactly?" I asked.

"A good question," Paris said. "It would be unfair to pit him in battle against one of our warriors — a half-vampire is no match for a General."

"And a quest would take too long," Arrow said.

"That leaves the Trials," Mika muttered.

"No!" someone shouted behind us. Looking around, I spotted a red-faced Kurda striding toward the platform. "I won't stand for this!" he shouted. "The boy isn't ready for the Trials. If you insist on testing him, let him wait till he is older."

"There will be no waiting," Mika growled, rising to his feet and taking a few steps toward Kurda. "We wield the authority here, Kurda Smahlt — you're not a Prince yet, so don't act like one."

Kurda, stopped and glowered at Mika, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My apologies for speaking out of turn, sire."

"Apology accepted," Mika grunted, returning to his seat.

"Have I the permission of the Princes to speak?" Kurda asked.

Paris checked with Mika, who shrugged curtly. "You have," he said.

"The Trials of Initiation are for experienced vampires," Kurda said. "They were not designed for children. It wouldn't be fair to subject him to them."

"Life for vampires has never beenfair, " Mr. Crepsley said. "But it can bejust. I do not enjoy the idea of submitting Darren to the Trials, but it is a just decision and I shall stand by it if he agrees."

"Excuse me," I said, "but whatare the Trials?"

Paris smiled kindly at me. "The Trials of Initiation are tests for vampires who wish to become Generals," he explained.

"What would I have to do?"

"Perform five acts of physical courage," he said. "The tests are picked at random and are different for each vampire. One involves diving to the bottom of a deep pool and retrieving a dropped medallion. In another you must dodge falling boulders. In another you must cross a hall filled with burning coals. Some tests are more difficult than others, but none are easy. The risk is great, and though most vampires survive, death by misadventure is not unheard-of."

"You mustn't agree to this, Darren," Kurda hissed. "The Trials are for full vampires. You aren't strong, quick, or experienced enough. You'll be signing your death warrant if you say yes."

"I disagree," Mr. Crepsley said. "Darrenis capable of passing the Trials. It will not be easy, and he may struggle, but I would not let him step forward if I thought he would be completely out of his depth."

"Let's vote on it," Mika said. "I say it's the Trials. Arrow?"

"I agree — the Trials."

"Paris?"

The oldest living vampire shook his head uncertainly. "Kurda has a point when he says the Trials are not for children. I trust your judgment, Larten, but fear your optimism is misplaced."

"Can you suggest another way?" Mika snapped.

"No, but …" Paris sighed deeply. "What do the Generals think?" he asked, addressing those in the Hall. "We have heard from Kurda and Mika. Does anyone else have anything to add?"

The Generals muttered among themselves, until a familiar figure stood and cleared her throat — Arra Sails. "I respect Darren Shan," she said. "I have shaken his hand, and those who know me know how much that means to me. I believe Gavner Purl and Larten Crepsley when they say he will be a valuable addition to our ranks.

"But I also agree with Mika Ver Leth — Darren must prove himself. All of us have had to endure the Trials. They help make us what we are. As a woman, the odds were stacked against me, but I overcame them and took my place in this Hall as an equal. There must be no exceptions. A vampire who cannot pull his own weight is of no use to us. We have no place for children who need to be wet-nursed and tucked into their coffins at daybreak.

"Having said that," she concluded, "I don't think Darren will let us down. I believe he will pass the Trials and prove himself. I have every confidence in him." She smiled at me, then glared at Kurda. "And those who say otherwise — those who'd wrap him in blankets — should not be heeded. To deny Darren the right of Trials would be to shame him."

"Noble words," Kurda sneered. "Will you repeat them at his funeral?"

"Better to die with pride than live in shame," Arra retorted.

Kurda cursed quietly to himself. "How about it, Darren?" he asked. "Will you face death just to prove yourself to these fools?"

"No," I said, and saw a pained look cross Mr. Crepsley's face. "But I'll face death to prove myself tome, " I added. When the red-cloaked vampire heard that, he beamed proudly and raised a clenched fist in salute.

"Let us put it to the Hall," Paris said. "How many think Darren should undertake the Trials of Initiation?" Every arm went up. Kurda turned aside in disgust. "Darren? You are willing to proceed?"

I looked up at Mr. Crepsley and made a sign for him to bend down. In a whisper, I asked him what would happen if I said no. "You would be disgraced and sent from Vampire Mountain in shame," he said solemnly.

"Would you be shamed, too?" I asked, knowing how much his good name meant to him.

He sighed. "In the eyes of the Princes I would not be, but in my own eyes I would. Having chosen and blooded you, I feel any shame of yours would also be mine."

I gave that careful consideration. I'd learned a lot about Mr. Crepsley, how he thought and lived, during the eight years I'd served as his assistant. "You couldn't bear such shame, could you?" I asked.

His expression softened. "No," he said quietly.

"You'd go and chase an early death. Hunt wild animals and fight vampaneze, and push yourself until one of them killed you?"

"Something along those lines," he agreed with a quick nod.

I couldn't let that happen. Six years ago, when we'd gone after Murlough, the mad vampaneze had kidnapped Evra, and Mr. Crepsley had offered to trade his life for the snake-boy's. He'd have done the same for me if I'd fallen into the killer's hands. I didn't like the sound of these Trials, but if undertaking them meant Mr. Crepsley could carry on without shame, I owed it to him to place myself in the firing line.

Facing the Princes, I stood up straight and said solidly, "I agree to the Trials."

"Then it is decided," Paris Skyle said, smiling approvingly. "Return tomorrow and we shall draw the first Trial. You may leave now and rest."

That was the end of our meeting. I left the Hall with Gavner, Harkat, and Kurda. Mr. Crepsley stayed to discuss business with the Princes — I think it had to do with Mr. Tiny, Harkat's message, and the dead vampaneze and vampire we'd found on our way here.

"I'm glad … to leave at … last," Harkat said as we made our way back to the Halls. "I was … growing bored of … same old … scenery."

I smiled, then glanced at Gavner worriedly. "How toughare these Trials?" I asked.

"Very," he sighed.

"Try tough as the walls of the Hall of Princes," Kurda growled.

"They're notthat difficult," Gavner said. "Don't exaggerate the dangers, Kurda — you'll frighten him."

"That's the last thing I want to do," Kurda said, smiling encouragingly at me. "But the Trials are meant for fully grown vampires. I spent six years preparing for them, like most vampires do, yet I only barely scraped through."

"Darren will be okay," Gavner insisted, though the doubt in his voice was only barely concealed.

"Besides," I said, trying to cheer Kurda up, "I can always drop out if I get in over my head."

Kurda stared hard at me. "Weren't you listening? Didn't you understand?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Nobody walks away from the Trials," Gavner said. "You might fail, but you can't quit — the Generals won't let you."

"So I'll fail." I shrugged. "I'll throw in the towel if things get hairy — pretend I've got a twisted ankle or something."

"Hedoesn't understand!" Gavner groaned. "We should have explained it fully before we let him agree.

He's given his word now, so there's no going back. Black blood of Harnon Oan!"

"Whatdon't I understand?" I asked, confused.

"In the Trials, failure entails one fate only — death!" Kurda told me grimly. I stared at him wordlessly. "Most who fail, die in the attempt. But should you fail and not die, you will be taken to the Hall of Death, strapped into a cage, hoisted above the pit, and —" he gulped, averted his eyes, and finished in a terrible whisper, "dropped on the stakes until you are dead!"

TO BE CONTINUED …

THE SCORCHING SAGA OF DARREN SHAN CONTINUES WITH…

TRIALS OF DEATH

THERE WAS A WHISTLING SOUND

The flames were coming in quick bursts now, all around the Hall. I could feel the terrible heat building in the air, and already it was hard to breathe. A hole a few inches from my right foot began to whistle. I didn't move as fire erupted and stung my leg — I could tolerate a small burn like that. A larger burst came out of a wider hole behind me. I shifted forward ever so slightly, rolling gently away from the worst of its bite. I could feel the flames licking at the skin of my bare back, but none took hold.

The hardest times were when two or more geysers sprang from holes set close together. There was nothing I could do when trapped between a set of fiery pillars, except suck in my belly and step gingerly through the thinner wall of flames.

Within a few minutes my feet were in agony — they absorbed the worst of the flames. I spat on my palms and rubbed spit into my soles, which provided a small amount of temporary relief. I would have stood on my hands to give my feet a rest, except that would have exposed my head and hair to the fire ….

There was no way to keep track of time. I had to focus every last ounce of my concentration on the floor and fire. The smallest of distractions could have lethal consequences ….

I started back the way I'd come, but the fire was still shooting up through the holes, blocking my path. Reluctantly, I edged farther toward the corner, ready to take the first opening as soon as one presented itself. The trouble was — none did.

The gurgling of pipes to my rear brought me to a halt. Flame burst out of the floor behind me, scorching my back. I grimaced but didn't move — there was nowhere to move to. The air was really poor in this region of the room. I waved my hands in front of my face, trying to create a draft that would suck some fresh air in, but it didn't work.

The pillars of flames in front of me had formed a virtual wall of fire now, at least six or seven feet thick. I could barely see the rest of the room through the flickering flames. As I stood, waiting for a path to open, the mouths of the pipes at my feet hissed, several of them all at once. A huge ball of fire was on its way, about to explode directly underneath me! I had a split second to think and act.

Couldn't stand still — I'd burn.

Couldn't retreat — I'd burn.

Couldn't duck to the sides — I'd burn.

Forward, through the thick banks of fire? I'd probably burn, but there was open ground and air beyond — if I made it through. It was a lousy choice, but there was no time to complain. Closing my eyes and mouth, I covered my face with my arms and darted forward into the wall of crackling flames.

Fire engulfed and billowed around me like a ferocious red and yellow locust cloud. Never in my worst nightmares had I imagined such heat. I almost opened my mouth to scream. If I had, fire would have gushed down my throat and torched me to a crisp from the inside out.

DON'T FORGET TO BUYTRIALS OF DEATH.COMING APRIL , 2003

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