The Vampire Prince

by Darren Shan

  Realizing my life wasn't under threat, I relaxed and suspiciously studied the person who'd knocked me to the floor. With a start, I saw that it was one of the pale-skinned, white-eyed Guardians of the Blood. He was a thin, anxious-looking man. Putting a finger to his own lips, he pointed at the wolves — barking louder than ever — then up at the roof of the cave, where he'd dropped from. Pushing me over to the wall, he pointed out fingerholds in the rocks, then scrambled up into the darkness. I lingered doubtfully a moment, then glanced at the agitated wolves and followed him up.

  There was a crevice at the top of the wall, which the Guardian guided me into. He slid into a small hole close by. I waited in silence, my heart beating loudly. Then I heard a voice addressing the angry wolves. "Quiet!" someone hissed. "Shut up, you mongrels!"

  The wolves quit howling, but they continued growling menacingly. They backed away from the tunnel mouth, and moments later I saw a purple-skinned face poke out of the shadows — a vampaneze!

  "Wolves," the vampaneze snarled, spitting on the ground. "Curse their eyes!"

  "Leave them be," a second vampaneze said behind him. "They won't interfere with us if we keep out of their way. They're just scavenging for food."

  "If they keep yapping, they could bring the vampires down on us," the first vampaneze murmured ominously, and I saw the blade of a sharp knife glint by his side.

  "They're only barking because of us," his companion said, dragging him away. "They'll stop once we... "

  Their voices faded and I didn't hear them after that.

  When I was sure the way was clear, I looked over to where the Guardian of the Blood was hiding, to thank him for his unexpected help — but he wasn't there. He must have slipped away while I wasn't looking. I shook my head with confusion. I'd thought the Guardians were in league with the vampaneze, since one of them had ignored my cries for help when I was fleeing from Kurda and his allies, and left me to them. Why help me now when they'd abandoned me then?

  Thinking it over, I climbed down and rejoined the wolves. They were still sniffing the air guardedly but had stopped growling. After a while, we followed Magda out of the cave as she resumed her way and led us farther up the mountain. She slinked ahead even slower than before, though I didn't know if this was because of exhaustion or the threat of the vampaneze.

  * * *

  A few hours later, we reached the lower Halls at the top of the mountain and skirted around them. We passed disturbingly close to the storerooms at one point. I could hear vampires at work behind the walls, getting ready for the large feast that would follow Kurda's investiture. I held my breath and listened for a few minutes, but their words were muffled, and I soon moved on, afraid one of them would discover us.

  I kept expecting Magda to stop, but she led us higher and higher, farther up the mountain than I thought possible. I was beginning to think we must be almost at the very top when we came to a tunnel that cut upward sharply. Magda studied the tunnel, then turned and gazed at me — I could tell by the look in her eyes that she'd brought me as far as she could. As I dashed forward, eager to check where the tunnel led, Magda turned and limped away.

  "Where are you going?" I called. The she-wolf paused and glanced back, tired resignation in her stare — she couldn't manage the climb. "Wait here and we'll collect you later," I told her. Magda snarled, pawed the ground, and ruffled her fur — and I got the sense that she was going away to die. "No," I said softly. "If you just lie down and rest, I'm sure —"

  Magda interrupted with a short shake of her head. Staring into her sad eyes, I began to comprehend that this was what she wanted. She'd known when she started that the journey would prove too much for her. She'd chosen to make it all the same and die usefully, rather than struggle along after the pack for another season or two, dying slowly and miserably. She was prepared for death and welcomed it.

  Crouching, I ran my hands over the tired she-wolf's head and gently rubbed the thin hairs on her ears. "Thank you," I said simply. Magda licked me, rubbed her nose against my left cheek, then hobbled away into darkness, to find a private spot where she could lie down and quietly leave this world behind.

  I remained where I was awhile, thinking about death and how the wolf had accepted it so calmly, remembering how I'd run when it had been my time to face it. Then, shrugging off such dark thoughts, I entered the tunnel and climbed.

  The wolves had a harder time on the final stretch than I did. Even though they were great climbers, the rock was steep, unsuited to sharp claws, and they kept slipping to the bottom. Finally, tired of hanging about, I slid down and let the wolves go ahead of me, using my head and shoulders to brace them when they lost their footing.

  Several minutes later, we found ourselves on level ground, in a small, dark cave. The air here was musty, made worse by the strong stench of the hairy wolves. "You three wait here," I told them in a whisper, afraid their smell would carry to any nearby vampires. Shuffling forward, I came to a wall of thin, fragile rock. Dim light shone through several tiny holes and cracks. I pressed my eyes to the holes, but they were too small to see through. Inserting the nail of my right little finger into one of the larger cracks, I worked gently at the stone, which crumbled, widening the hole. Leaning forward, I was able to see through to the other side — and was astonished to find myself at the rear of the Hall of Princes!

  Once I'd recovered from the shock — there was only supposed to be one way up to the Hall of Princes! — I began considering my next course of action. This had worked out far more neatly than I'd ever dared to dream, and it was now up to me to make the most of my incredible good fortune. My first instinct was to burst through the wall and scream for the Princes, but the guards of the Hall or one of the traitors might cut me down if I did, killing my message with me.

  Retreating from the wall, I returned to the wolves and led them back down the steep tunnel, where there was more space and air. Once comfortable, I lay down, closed my eyes, and began thinking about how to make contact with the Princes — while at the same time avoiding the spears and swords of the vicious traitors and well-meaning guards!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I wanted to speak to the Princes directly — but I couldn't just march up to the doors of the Hall and ask the guards to let me in! I could wait for one of the Princes to emerge and hail him, but they didn't leave the throne room very often. What if Kurda made his move before I could act? I thought about sneaking down to the doors and slipping in the next time they were open, but it was unlikely that I could avoid the attention of the guards. Besides, if Kurda was inside and saw me, he might kill me before I had a chance to speak.

  That was my greatest fear — that I'd be killed before I warned the Princes of the peril they faced. With this in mind, I decided I had to contact somebody before approaching the Princes, so that if I died, my message wouldn't die with me.

  But who to trust? Mr. Crepsley or Harkat were the ideal choices, but there was no way I could make it to their cells undetected. Arra Sails and Vanez Blane also dwelt too deep within the mountain to be easily reached.

  That left Seba Nile, the ancient quartermaster of Vampire Mountain. His cell was close to the storerooms. It would be risky, but I thought I could get to him without being seen. But could I trust him? He and Kurda were close friends. He'd helped the traitor make maps of infrequently used tunnels, maps that the vampaneze might be using at this very minute to advance on the Hall of Princes. Was it possible that he was one of Kurda's allies?

  Almost as soon as I raised the question, I knew it was ridiculous. Seba was an old-fashioned vampire, who believed in loyalty and the ways of the vampires above all else. And he'd been Mr. Crepsley's mentor. If I couldn't trust Seba, I couldn't trust anybody.

  I rose to go in search of Seba, and the wolves rose with me. Crouching, I told them to stay. Streak shook his head, growling, but I was firm with him. "Stay!" I commanded. "Wait for me. If I don't come back, return to the pack. This isn't your fight. There's nothing you can do."
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  I wasn't sure if Streak understood all that, but he squatted on his haunches and remained with the other wolves, panting heavily as he watched me leave, his dark eyes fixed on me until I vanished around a bend.

  Retracing the path by which we'd come, I climbed back down the mountain. It didn't take long to reach the storerooms. They were quiet when I arrived, but I entered cautiously, taking no chances, through the hole that Kurda had revealed to me during my escape.

  Finding nobody within, I started for the door leading to the tunnels, then stopped and glanced down at myself. I'd grown so used to being naked, I'd forgotten how strange I'd look to nonanimal eyes. If I turned up in Seba's quarters like this, dirty and wild, he might think I was a ghost!

  There were no spare clothes in this room, so I ripped apart an old sack and tied a strip of it around my waist. It wasn't much of an improvement, but it would have to do. I tied another few strips around my feet, so that I could pad more stealthily, then opened a sack of flour and rubbed a few handfuls of the white powder over my body, hopefully to mask the worst of my wolfish smell. When I was ready, I opened the door and crept into the tunnel.

  Though it would normally have taken no more than two or three minutes to get to Seba's rooms, I spent nearly four times as long, checking each stretch of tunnel several times before venturing down it, making sure I had somewhere to hide if vampires emerged unexpectedly.

  When I finally reached the old quartermaster's door, I was shaking with anxiety and stood in silence a few seconds, collecting myself. When I'd recovered, I knocked lightly. "Come in," Seba called. I entered. The quartermaster was standing by a chest with his back to me. "Over here, Thomas," he muttered, examining the inside of the chest. "I told you not to bother knocking. The investiture is a mere two hours away. We do not have time for —"

  Turning, he saw me, and his jaw literally dropped.

  "Hello, Seba." I smiled nervously.

  Seba blinked, shook his head, blinked again. "Darren?" he gasped.

  "The one and only." I grinned.

  Seba lowered the lid of the chest and sat upon it heavily. "Are you a vision?" he wheezed.

  "Do I look like one?"

  "Yes," he said.

  I laughed and advanced. "I'm no vision, Seba. It's me. I'm real." I stopped in front of him. "Feel me if you don't believe me."

  Seba reached out a trembling finger and touched my left arm. When he realized I was solid, he beamed and rose. Then his face fell, and he sat again. "You were sentenced to death," he said dolefully.

  "I figured as much," I said, nodding.

  "You fled."

  "It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

  "We thought you drowned. Your trail led to the stream and ended abruptly. How did you get out?"

  "I swam," I said lightly.

  "Swam where?" he asked.

  "Down the stream."

  "You mean... all the way... through the mountain? That is impossible!"

  "Improbable," I corrected him. "Not impossible. I wouldn't be here if it was."

  "And Gavner?" he asked hopefully. "Is he alive too?"

  I shook my head sadly. "Gavner's dead. He was murdered."

  "I thought so," Seba sighed. "But when I saw you, I —" He stopped and frowned. "Murdered?" he rumbled.

  "You'd better stay sitting," I said, then proceeded to tell him the bare bones of my encounter with the vampaneze, Kurda's treachery, and what happened after.

  Seba was shaking with rage when I finished. "Never did I think a vampire would turn against his brothers," he growled. "And one so highly respected! It sickens and shames me. To think I have drunk blood to that sham of a vampire's good health and prayed to the gods to grant him luck! Charna's guts!"

  "You believe me?" I asked, relieved.

  "I might not recognize treachery when it is skillfully concealed," he said, "but I know the truth when it is revealed. I believe you. The Princes will too." Rising, he strode for the door. "We must hurry to warn them. The sooner we —" He paused. "No. The Princes will see no one until the time of investiture. They reside within their Hall and will not open the doors until twilight, when Kurda presents himself. That is the way it has always been. I would be turned away if I went there now."

  "But you'll be able to get to them in time?" I asked anxiously.

  He nodded. "There is a lengthy ceremony before the investiture. I will have plenty of time to interrupt and level these grievous charges against our supposed ally, Kurda Smahlt." The vampire was seething with rage. "Come to think of it," he said, eyes narrowing, "he is alone in his chambers now. I could go and slit the villain's throat before—"

  "No," I said quickly. "The Princes will want to question him. We don't know who else is working with them, or why he did it."

  "You are right," he sighed, shoulders slumping.

  "Besides, killing him would be a mercy. He deserves to suffer for what he did to Gavner."

  "That's not the only reason why I don't want you to kill him," I said hesitantly. Seba stared at me and waited for me to continue. "I want to blow the whistle on him. I was with Gavner when he died. He was down in the tunnels because of me. I want to look into Kurda's eyes when I expose him."

  "To show him how much you hate him?" Seba asked.

  "No," I said. "To show him how much pain he's caused." There were tears in my eyes. "I hate him, Seba, but I still think of him as a friend. He saved my life. I'd be dead now if he hadn't intervened. I want him to know how much he's hurt me. Maybe it doesn't make sense, but I want him to see that I don't get any pleasure out of exposing him as a traitor."

  Seba nodded slowly. "It makes sense," he said, stroking his chin and considering the proposal. "But it is dangerous. I do not think the guards will kill you, but one of Kurda's allies might."

  "I'll take that chance," I said. "What do I have to lose? I'll be killed afterward anyway, because I failed the Trials. I'd rather die on my feet, stopping Kurda, than in the Hall of Death."

  Seba smiled warmly. "You are a true, courageous vampire, Darren Shan," he said.

  "No," I replied softly. "I'm just trying to do the right thing, to make up for running away earlier."

  "Larten will be proud of you," Seba remarked.

  I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I just blushed and shrugged. Then we sat down together and discussed various plans for the night ahead.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I didn't really want to involve the wolves any further — in case they were killed — but they remained seated, panting patiently, when I tried chasing them off. "Go!" I said, slapping their flanks. "Home!" But they weren't dogs, and they didn't obey. I saw they planned to stick by me — the younger wolves even looked like they were relishing the thought of a fight — so I gave up trying to drive them to safety and instead settled back to wait for nightfall, judging the time by my internal body clock.

  As the day was drawing to a close, the wolves and I crawled back up the steep tunnel and made our way to the wall at the rear of the Hall of Princes. I set to work on the soft layer of rock and carefully carved out a gap big enough for us to squeeze through. I was surprised nobody had ever found this weak point before, but it was very high up, and from the other side the wall must have looked solid.

  I paused briefly to consider the extraordinary run of luck I was enjoying. Surviving the gushing madness of the mountain stream, Rudi and Streak finding me when I was at my weakest, Magda leading us through the tunnels to the Hall of Princes. Even failing the Trials had been in one respect fortunate — I'd never have found out about the vampaneze if I hadn't lost against the Blooded Boars.

  Was it really just the luck of the vampires, or was it something more — like destiny? I'd never believed in fate, but I was beginning to have my doubts!

  Sounds of the approaching procession distracted me from my heavy thoughts. The hour of Kurda's investiture had come. It was time to act. Wriggling through the hole, I dropped to the floor, turned, and caught the wolves as they slithered down.
When we were all ready, we flattened close to the wall of the Hall and edged forward.

  As we slipped around the curve of the dome, I saw the Generals who'd lined up to welcome Kurda Smahlt. They'd formed a guard of honor, stretching from the tunnel to the doors of the Hall. Almost all were armed, as were the rest of the vampires — the ceremony of investiture was the one time vampires could carry weapons into the chamber. Any one of the armed vampires could be a traitor, with orders to kill me on sight. I tried not to dwell on that horrible thought, for fear it might stop me.

  The three Princes stood by the open doors of the dome, dressed regally, waiting to blood Kurda and make him one of their own. I spotted Mr. Crepsley and Seba close to the Princes. Mr. Crepsley was staring in the direction of the tunnel — along with everybody else — but Seba had an eye out for me. When he caught sight of me, he nodded slightly. That meant he'd had words with a few of his staff and had positioned them nearby, with orders to stop any vampire who raised a weapon during the ceremony. Seba hadn't told his assistants about me — we'd agreed it was best to keep my presence a secret — and I hoped they wouldn't hesitate when I made my move, thus giving one of Kurda's men the chance to kill me.

  The head of the procession entered the cave. Six vampires preceded Kurda, walking slowly in pairs, carrying the clothes that Kurda would put on once he'd been invested. Next came two deep-voiced vampires, loudly chanting poems and stories, praising the Princes and Kurda. There were more of the chanting vampires behind, and their hymnlike tones carried up the tunnel and echoed around the cave.

  Behind the first eight vampires came the vampire of the moment, Kurda Smahlt, carried on a small platform by four Generals, wearing a loose white robe, blond head bowed, eyes closed. I waited until he was halfway between the tunnel and the Princes, then stepped out from the wall, strode forward — the wolves close on my heels — and shouted as loud as I could, "STOP!"