The Vampire Prince

by Darren Shan

  A minute passed. Two. Then a figure appeared over the mound. My eyes were as sharp as they'd ever been, and I recognized the far-off vampire immediately — Mr. Crepsley!

  I started to get to my feet, overjoyed, and opened my mouth to roar a greeting. A low growl from Streak stopped me. The wolf's tail hung flat behind him, the way it did when he was anxious. I wanted to rush forward to greet my old friend, but I knew Streak wouldn't be acting this way without good reason.

  Lying down flat beside the wolf, I kept my eyes on the mound, and soon the cause for his concern became obvious: behind Mr. Crepsley marched five other vampires, and in the front, carrying a sharp, polished sword, was the would-be Prince and traitor — Kurda Smahlt!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I kept close to the ground as the vampires passed, hidden behind the bushes, downwind so they couldn't smell me. Once they were out of immediate range, I turned to Streak. "We have to follow them," I whispered. Streak studied me in silence with his large yellow eyes, then got to his feet. He slipped farther back through the bushes. I trailed after him, trusting him not to lead me astray. A few minutes later, we circled around and caught sight of the vampires. We fell in behind them and matched their pace, careful not to get too close.

  I examined the four vampires with Mr. Crepsley and Kurda. Three were unfamiliar, but the fourth was Arra Sails. Her right arm had been in a sling the last time I saw her, but it was now hanging freely by her side. After a while, I noticed that two of the unfamiliar vampires were carrying swords like Kurda's and were lagging a bit behind Arra and the other unarmed vampire.

  It became clear what was happening. Mr. Crepsley had decided to come looking for me. Arra and the other vampire had agreed to accompany him. Kurda, worried that I might have somehow survived, must have offered to assist and brought the armed vampires with him. If they discovered me alive, the swords would flash, and that would be the end of me, Mr. Crepsley, Arra, and the other vampire. Kurda was making sure word of his betrayal never made it back to the Generals and Princes.

  I wasn't surprised by Kurda's devious plotting, but I was upset by the realization that he wasn't the only traitor. The two vampires with swords must have known the truth about him and the vampaneze, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to rely on them. I suspected the Guardians of the Blood (weird humans who live inside Vampire Mountain and donate their blood in exchange for the internal organs of dead vampires) of being part of the conspiracy, but I'd thought Kurda was the only vampire traitor — it looked like I was wrong.

  If Mr. Crepsley and Arra hadn't been concentrating so hard on the search, they'd have realized something was amiss — the sword-bearing vampires were edgy, all nervous glances and itchy fingers. I'd love to have jumped out and shocked Kurda — he was the edgiest of all — but common sense prevailed. If I was spotted alive, he and his men would kill me and the three true vampires. As long as they believed I was dead, they wouldn't do anything to give themselves away.

  I spent a long time studying the faces of Kurda's companions, committing them to memory. I wondered how many more were in on the plot to destroy the clan. Not many, I bet. The vampires with him were very young. Kurda most likely recruited them himself and talked them into his way of thinking before they learned the ways of the vampires. More experienced vampires, who valued honor and loyalty, would never dream of being in cahoots with a traitor.

  After a while, the group came to a halt in a small clearing, where they sat and rested, except Mr. Crepsley, who spent the period anxiously pacing. I tapped Streak's shoulder, then pointed toward the clearing — I wanted to get closer. The wolf hesitated, sniffed the air, then led the way forward. We carefully crawled to within seven or eight yards of the clearing, where we stopped, hidden by a dead tree trunk. With my developed sense of hearing, I could eavesdrop perfectly from there.

  Nothing was said for several minutes. The vampires were blowing into their cupped hands and tugging their jackets closer to themselves, shivering from the cold. I smiled as I thought how uncomfortable they'd feel if they were in my compromising position.

  After a while, Kurda got up and walked over to Mr. Crepsley. "Think we'll find him?" the traitor asked, feigning concern.

  Mr. Crepsley sighed. "Probably not. But I would like to keep searching. I wish to locate his body and cremate him fittingly."

  "He might still be alive," Kurda said.

  Mr. Crepsley laughed bleakly. "We traced his path through the tunnels. We know he fell into the stream and did not emerge. You truly think he may have survived?"

  Kurda shook his head, as though deeply depressed. The dirty swine! He might not think I was alive, but he wasn't taking any chances either. If not for that sword of his, I'd have—

  I calmed down and tuned back in to the conversation. Arra had joined the pair and was saying, "... saw wolf tracks farther back. They might have discovered his body and devoured him. We should check."

  "I doubt if they would have eaten him," Mr. Crepsley said. "Wolves respect vampires, as we respect them. Besides, his blood would have poisoned them, and we would have heard their mad howling."

  There was a brief moment of silence, then Arra muttered, "I'd love to know what happened in those tunnels. If Darren had been by himself and fallen in, I could understand it, but Gavner has disappeared too."

  My insides froze at the mention of Gavner.

  "Either he fell into the stream trying to save Darren," Kurda said lightly, "or Darren fell in trying to save him. That's the only answer I can think of."

  "But how did they fall in?" Arra asked. "The stream wasn't wide where they fell. They should have been able to clear it. Even if it was too wide for them, why didn't they just jump where it was narrower? It makes no sense."

  Kurda shrugged and pretended to be as baffled as the others.

  "At least we know that Gavner is dead," Mr. Crepsley remarked. "Although we have not found his body, the absence of his mental signal means he breathes no longer. His death distresses me, but the uncertainty regarding Darren unsettles me more. The odds are stacked against his being alive, but until we have proof that he is dead, I shall not be able to accept it."

  It was oddly comforting to know that even in the midst of worry, Mr. Crepsley had lost none of his elaborate ways of talking.

  "We'll go on searching," Kurda said. "If he can be found, we'll find him."

  Mr. Crepsley shook his head and sighed again.

  "No," he said. "If we do not locate his body tonight, we must abandon the search. There is your investiture to prepare for."

  "Forget the investiture," Kurda snorted.

  "No," Mr. Crepsley said. "The night after next, you become a Prince. That takes precedence above all else."

  "But—," Kurda began.

  "No," Mr. Crepsley growled. "Your investiture as a Prince is more important than the loss of Gavner and Darren. You have bucked tradition already by leaving the confines of the mountain so close to the ceremony. You must stop thinking about Darren. As a Prince, it is your duty to put the will and wishes of others before your own. Your people expect you to spend tomorrow fasting and preparing for the investiture. You must not disappoint them."

  "Very well," Kurda groaned. "But this isn't the end of it. I'm as upset by what's happened as you are. I won't rest until we know for sure if Darren is alive or dead."

  The hypocrite! Standing there, acting innocent, pretending to be upset. If only I'd had a gun or a crossbow, I'd have shot him dead where he stood, the laws of the vampires — which forbid the use of weapons such as guns and bows — be damned!

  When the vampires moved on, I stayed where I was, thinking hard. Talk of Kurda's investiture had disturbed me. It had slipped my mind that he was due to be made a Vampire Prince. But now that I thought about it, things took ominous shape. I'd thought the vampaneze just meant to kill as many vampires as they could and take over the mountain, but the more I considered it, the less sense that made. Why go to all that risk just to take over a bunch of caves they coul
dn't have cared less about? And even if they killed every vampire present, there were plenty more who could hurry to the mountain and fight to reclaim it.

  There must be a logical reason for them being here, and I thought I knew what it was — the Stone of Blood. The Stone of Blood was a magical stone with which a vampire or vampaneze could locate almost every vampire on the face of the planet. With the Stone, the vampaneze could track down and destroy vampires at will.

  The Stone was also rumored to be the only object that could save the vampires from being wiped out by the legendary Lord of the Vampaneze, who was supposed to arise one night and lead the vampaneze into a victorious fight with the vampires. If the dreaded Lord was coming — as Mr. Tiny said — the vampaneze would naturally be eager to get their hands on the one thing that stood between them and total victory.

  But the Stone of Blood was magically protected in the Hall of Princes. No matter how many vampires the vampaneze killed, or how much of the mountain they claimed, they'd never be able to enter the Hall of Princes and get at the Stone of Blood, because only a Vampire Prince was capable of opening the doors to the Hall.

  Only. A. Vampire. Prince.

  Like Paris Skyle, Mika Ver Leth, Arrow, or Vancha March. Or — the night after next — Kurda Smahlt.

  That was the plan! Once Kurda was invested, he'd be able to open the doors to the Hall of Princes whenever he wanted. When he was ready, he'd sneak the vampaneze up from the caves and tunnels — he knew ways into the Halls that no one else knew — lead them to the Hall of Princes, kill everyone there, and take control of the Stone of Blood. Once that was in his hands, vampires everywhere would have to do what he said — or perish disobeying him.

  In less than forty-eight hours Kurda would be invested and the Hall would be his for the taking. Nobody knew of his treachery, so nobody could stop him — except me. Reluctant as I was to face the vampires who'd condemned me to death, it was time to return to Vampire Mountain. I had to warn the Generals and Princes before Kurda could betray them. Even if they killed me for it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Once we were back with the pack, I told Streak I had to leave for Vampire Mountain. The wolf growled and loosely grabbed my right ankle with his fangs, trying to keep me with him. "I have to go!" I snapped. "I must stop the vampaneze!"

  Streak released me when I mentioned the vampaneze, snarling softly. "They plan to attack the vampires," I said quietly. "They'll kill them all unless I stop them."

  Streak stared at me, panting heavily, then pawed the snow, sniffed the marks he'd made, and yelped. It was obvious he was trying to communicate something important to me, but I couldn't interpret his actions. "I don't understand," I said.

  Streak growled, again ran his nose over the tracks he'd made, then turned and padded away. I followed. He led me to a shabby she-wolf resting slightly away from the pack. I'd noticed her before but hadn't paid much attention to her — she was old, not far from death's door, and didn't have much to do with the pack, surviving off scraps they left behind.

  The she-wolf regarded us suspiciously as we approached. Struggling to her feet, she backed away cautiously, but Streak dropped to his belly and rolled over to show he meant no harm. I did the same, and the she-wolf relaxed. When Streak sat up, he pressed close to the she-wolf, whose eyes weren't strong, and stared at her long and hard, growling softly, meaningfully. He made marks in the snow, similar to the ones he'd made for me, then barked at the old she-wolf. She peered at the marks, then up at me, and whined. Streak barked again, to which she replied with a louder, sharper whine.

  As I studied the wolves, wondering what was going on, it suddenly struck me that Streak was asking the old she-wolf — I decided on an impulse to call her Magda (my grandmother's name) — to lead me to Vampire Mountain. But all the wolves knew where the mountain was. Why was Streak asking this ancient, pitiful she-wolf to lead me? It made no sense. Unless... My eyes widened. Unless Magda knew a way not just to the mountain, but up it!

  "You know how to get inside!" I gasped, crouching forward with excitement. Magda stared at me blankly, but I knew in my gut I was right. I could find my way up the mountain by myself, using common, marked passages, except it would be very difficult to avoid detection that way. But if Magda knew of older, less-used passages, I might be able to sneak in!

  I turned to Streak imploringly. "Can she take me there? Will she?"

  Streak ignored me and butted Magda softly with his head, scratching at the marks he'd made in the snow. The she-wolf whined one last time, then lowered her head obediently. I wasn't happy that Streak had bullied her into obeying him, but my need to get safely to the Princes at the top of Vampire Mountain was more important — if a bit of bullying was required to help me sneak past the vampaneze, so be it.

  "How far up the mountain can she take me?" I asked. "To the top, the Hall of Princes?" But this was too much for the wolves to comprehend — I'd just have to let her lead me as far as she could, and make my own way from there.

  "Can we go now?" I asked, eager to start — I wasn't sure how long the trek would take, and time was precious.

  Magda struggled to her feet, ready to follow me, but Streak snarled at me, then jerked his head at Magda and led her through the pack to feast on fresh meat — he wanted to feed her before we set off, which was a wise move, given the sorry state she was in.

  While Magda fed, I hopped nervously from foot to foot, thinking about the journey ahead and wondering if we'd make it in time, if Magda really knew the way into and up the mountain, and even if I made it to the top, past the vampaneze, how exactly I could contact the Princes, before some overanxious guard or coconspirator of Kurda's saw me and hacked me down.

  When Magda had eaten her fill, we set off. Streak accompanied us, along with two other young male wolves — they seemed to be tagging along for the adventure! Rudi followed us out of camp, yapping with excitement, until Streak nipped him sharply and sent him scampering away. I'd miss the young cub, but there was no place for him where we were headed, so I bade him a silent farewell and left him behind, along with the rest of the pack.

  The trek was good at first. Wolves can't run very fast but are strong, able to maintain a steady pace for hours. We surged through the forest, across snow and rocks, making great time.

  Then Magda tired. The she-wolf wasn't used to matching the pace of young, tireless males. The wolves would have run on ahead, leaving her to catch up later, but I didn't like the idea of abandoning her. When they saw me slow down to jog beside her, they circled back to join us.

  We rested for a few minutes every hour or so. As day dawned, I began to recognize my surroundings. By my reckoning, allowing for our pace and pauses, we would reach the tunnels a couple of hours before sunset.

  It actually took a little longer than I thought. When the ground rose, Magda's pace slowed even more. We still made the tunnels an hour before the sun went down, but I was filled with pessimism — Magda was in very poor shape. If the route to the tunnels had left her panting for breath and shaking with exhaustion, how would she cope with a long, hard climb up the mountain?

  I said to Magda that she could stay here and leave me to make my own way, but she growled stubbornly. I got the sense that she would continue — not for my sake, but her own. Old wolves were seldom given the opportunity to shine. Magda was relishing her role and would rather die than quit. As a half-vampire, I understood that, so even though I wasn't pleased about letting the she-wolf exhaust herself, I decided not to stop her.

  We spent the night waiting in the tunnel near the base of the mountain. The young wolves were restless and eager to proceed, but I knew that night was when the vampires and vampaneze would be most active, so I held my position, and the wolves had no choice but to stay with me. Finally, as the sun rose on the land outside, I stood and nodded, and we climbed.

  The tunnels Magda led us through were mostly narrow and unused. Many were natural tunnels, unlike the mainly vampire-carved tunnels that link the Halls. A lot
of crawling and slinking along on our bellies was required. It was uncomfortable (and painful in places for someone without any clothes!) but I didn't mind — since no vampires or vampaneze used these tunnels, nobody could catch me!

  We stopped for regular rests. The climb was having a dreadful effect on Magda — she looked ready to topple over and die — but she wasn't the only one who found the going tough. All of us were sweating and panting, groaning from aching muscles and bones.

  While we rested in a cave that was faintly lit by glowing moss, I started wondering how Magda knew about these tunnels. I guessed she must have wandered in here when she was younger — perhaps lost, starving, separated from her pack — and found her way up, through trial and error, to safety, warmth, and food. If that was the case, she had a truly incredible memory. I was marveling at this — and at the memories of animals in general — when Streak's nose lifted sharply. He sniffed the air, then got to his paws and padded to the mouth of the tunnel leading out of the cave. The younger wolves joined him, and all three bared their fangs and growled.

  I was instantly alert. Picking up a sharp stone, I rose to investigate the cause of their concern. But as I was crossing the cave, focusing on the wolves, a slim figure emerged suddenly and silently from the shadows overhead, knocked me to the ground, and roughly jammed a large bone between my lips, choking me and cutting short my panicked cry.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As I raised my hands to fight, the three male wolves began to bark — but not at me or my assailant. They were focused on some other danger, farther up the tunnel, and took no notice of the trouble I was in. Nor did Magda, who lay peacefully where she was and gazed at me with a curious but unalarmed expression.

  Before I could strike, the person holding me said something that sounded like "Gurlabashta!" I tried to shout in response but could manage only a muffled grunt because of the bone jammed between my teeth. "Gurlabashta!" my attacker snapped again, then eased the bone out and pressed a couple of dry fingers to my lips.