by Darren Shan
"Vampaneze," Vancha said cheerfully.
"That these vampaneze are the bad guys and you're here to sort them out, even though there's dozens of them and only four of you?"
"That's about the sum of it," Vancha smirked, "except there's five of us now, which should make all the difference."
"Crazy," she growled, but bent and picked up a long hunting knife, tested it, and gathered together another few knives. "OK," she said, standing. "I don't believe your story, but I'll tag along for the time being. If we run into these vampaneze, and they're all that you say, I'll throw my lot in with you. If we don't " She pointed at Vancha's throat with the largest of her knives and jerked it sharply to one side.
"I love it when you talk threateningly," Vancha laughed, then checked that we were all prepared, pulled his belts of shurikens tight around his chest, and led us forward in search of the vampaneze lair.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WE DIDN'Tget very far before running into our first obstacle. The huge door leading out of the cavern was bolted shut and wouldn't open. It was the type of door you find on walk-in safes in banks. There was a long row of combination locks running across the middle, beneath a circular handle.
"I wrestled with this for more than an hour," Vancha said, tapping the row of small lock windows. "Couldn't make head nor tail of it."
"Let me have a look," Mr Crepsley said, stepping forward. "I am not adept at locks such as these, but I have broken into safes before. I may be able to " He trailed off, studied the locks a minute, then cursed foully and kicked the door.
"Something wrong?" I asked lightly.
"We cannot go this way," he snapped. "It is too intricately coded. We must find a way around."
"Easier said than done," Vancha replied. "I've scoured the cavern for hidden passages and tunnels didn't find any. This place has been purpose-built. I think this is the only way ahead."
"What about the ceiling?" I asked. "The vampaneze came that way the last time we were down here."
"There are removable panels in the roof of the cavern," Vancha said, "but the space above them is only accessible from down here, not through the tunnel."
"Couldn't we break through the wall around the door?" Harkat asked.
"I tried," Vancha said, nodding at a hole he'd punched out a few metres to our left. "It's steel-lined.Thick steel. Even vampires have their limits."
"This doesn't make sense," I grumbled. "They knew we'd come. Theywant us to come. Why strand us here? There must be a way through." I knelt and examined the rows of tiny windows, each of which contained two numbers. "Explain this lock to me," I said to Mr Crepsley.
"It is a combination lock. Quite straightforward. The dials are down there." He pointed to a series of thin dials beneath the windows. "You twist them clockwise for a higher number, anti-clockwise for a lower number. When the correct numbers have been entered in all fifteen windows, the door will open."
"And each number's different?" I asked.
"I assume so." He sighed. "Fifteen different locks, fifteen different numbers. I could crack the code eventually, but it would take several nights and days."
"It doesn't make sense," I said again, staring at the meaningless numbers in the windows. "Steve helped design this trap. He wouldn't have built something we couldn't get past. There must be " I stopped. The last three windows were blank. I pointed them out to Mr Crepsley and asked why.
"They must not form part of the code," he said.
"So we've only twelve numbers to worry about?"
He smiled ruefully. "That should save us half a night or so."
"Why twelve?" I thought aloud, then closed my eyes and tried to think as Steve might (not a pleasant experience!). He'd exercised great patience in tricking us and setting us up for a fall, but now that we were close to the end, I couldn't picture him placing a boulder in our path which would take a week to remove. He'd be eager to get at us. The code he picked must be one we'd be able to crack pretty quickly, so it had to be simple, something which looked impossible, but in reality was as plain as
I groaned, then began counting. "Try these numbers as I call them out," I said to Mr Crepsley, eyes still closed. "Nineteen Twenty Five "
I carried on until I got to "Eighteen Four." I stopped and opened my eyes. Mr Crepsley spun the last counter anti-clockwise to four. There was a click and the circular handle popped out. Startled, the vampire grabbed it and twisted. It turned easily at his touch and the round door swung open.
Mr Crepsley, Harkat and Vancha stared at me, awed.
"How ?" Vancha gasped.
"Oh, please!" Alice Burgess snorted. "Isn't it obvious? He just converted the alphabet into numbers, starting with one and finishing with twenty-six. It's the most simplistic code in operation. A child could work it out."
"Oh," Harkat said. "I get it now. A was 1, B was 2, and so on."
"Right," I smiled. "Using that code, I dialled in 'Steve Leopard'. I knew it had to be something easy like that."
"Isn't education wonderful, Larten?" Vancha smirked. "We'll have to attend night classes when this is over."
"Quiet!" Mr Crepsley snapped, not amused. He was gazing into the darkness of the tunnel beyond. "Remember where we are and who we are facing."
"You can't talk to a Prince like that," Vancha grumbled, but straightened up and focused on the stretch of tunnel ahead. "Get in line," he said, moving to take the lead. "I'll go first, Harkat second, Alice in the middle, Darren behind, Larten at the rear."
Nobody argued with him. Though I was of equal rank, Vancha was far more experienced, and there was no doubt as to who was in charge.
Entering the tunnel, we advanced. Though the ceiling wasn't high, the tunnel was wide, and we were able to walk quite comfortably. Torches were set in the walls at regular intervals. I looked for tunnels leading off this one, but couldn't see any. We pressed on straight ahead.
We'd gone maybe forty metres when a sharp, clanging noise behind made us jump. Turning swiftly, we saw someone standing by the door we'd just come through. When he stepped forward into the light of the closest torch, hooks held up above his head, we knew instantly who it was R. V.!
"Lady and gentlemen!" he boomed. "Welcome! The proprietors of the Cavern of Retribution wish you well and hope you enjoy your stay. If you've any complaints, please don't hesitate to"
"Where's Debbie, you monster?" I screamed, trying to shove past Mr Crepsley. The vampire held me back with a firm arm and shook his head tautly.
"Remember what we discussed in the silo," he hissed.
I struggled a moment, then stepped back and glared at the insane vampaneze, who was jumping about from foot to foot, laughing crazily.
"Where is she?" I snarled.
"Not far from here," he chuckled, his voice carrying in the close confines of the tunnel. "Quite close as the crow flies. Closer still as the crowdies."
"That's a lousy pun," Harkat shouted.
"I ain't a poet but I don't know it," R.V. tossed back in reply. Then he stopped dancing and stared at us coldly. "Debbie's close, man," he hissed. "And she's alive. But she won't be much longer, not if you don't come with me now, Shan. Leave your rotten friends and surrender yourself to me I'll let her go. Stay with them and pursue your hateful quest I'll kill her!"
"If you do " I growled.
"What?" he jeered. "You'll kill me too? You'll have to catch me first, Shanny boy, and that's a lot easier said than done. R.V.'s quick on his feet, yes indeedy, quick as a gazelle."
"He sounds so much like Murlough," Mr Crepsley whispered, referring to a mad vampaneze we'd killed many years earlier. "It is as if his spirit has survived and found a home inside R.V."
I'd no time to worry about spirits of the past. As I thought over the offer, R.V. darted to a hole on his left it had been covered by as panel when we passed it ducked into it, then stuck his head out, grinning wildly. "How about it, Shanny? Your life for Debbie's. Is it a deal or do I make her squeal?"
This was my moment of t
ruth. I'd have given my life gladly if it meant sparing Debbie's. But if the Lord of the Vampaneze got the better of us, he'd lead his people to victory over the vampires. My duty was to those who'd placed their faith in me. I had more than myself to think about. And though it pained me intensely, I lowered my head in response to R.V.'s offer and said softly, "No."
"What was that?" R.V. shouted. "Speak up I can't hear you."
"NO!" I roared, whipping out my knife and launching it at him, although I knew I couldn't hit him from where I was standing.
R.V.'s face twisted with hate. "Cretin!" he snarled. "The others said you wouldn't trade for her, but I was sure you would. Very well. Have it your way, man. It's Debbie stew for breakfast!"
Laughing at me, he withdrew and slammed the panel shut on the passageway. I wanted to run after him, pound on the panel and scream for him to bring Debbie back. But I knew he wouldn't, so I restrained myself just.
"You did well, Darren," Mr Crepsley said, laying a hand on my shoulder.
"I did what had to be done," I sighed, taking no pleasure from his compliment.
"Was that one of those vampaneze you've been talking about?" Burgess asked, visibly shaken.
"That's one of our ruby-lipped boys, sure enough," Vancha replied chirpily.
"Are they all like that?" she asked, eyes wide, white hair frizzy with fright.
"Oh, no," Vancha said, faking an innocent look. "Most are far worse!"
Then the Prince winked, faced front, and moved on, leading us further down the throat-like tunnel, into the stomach of the vampaneze's monstrous trap, where destiny and death were lying in wait.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE TUNNELran straight and downwards for five or six hundred metres, before opening out on to a huge, man-made cavern with smooth walls and an extremely high ceiling. Three heavy silver chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each adorned with dozens of thick, red, burning candles.
As we entered the cavern I saw that it was oval in shape, wide across the middle, narrowing at either end. There was a platform set close in front of the wall across from us, suspended on sturdy steel pillars, fifteen metres high. We drifted towards it, weapons poised, spreading out to form an orderly line, Vancha slightly in front, his eyes flicking left, right, upwards, searching for vampaneze.
"Hold it," Vancha said as we approached the platform. We stopped instantly. I thought he'd seen a vampaneze, but he was gazing down at the ground, puzzled but not alarmed. "Have a look at this," he murmured, beckoning us forward.
Stepping up beside him, I felt my insides turn to ice. We were standing on the edge of a pit oval like the cavern which was filled with steel-tipped stakes two or three metres tall. It reminded me of the pit in the Hall of Death in Vampire Mountain, only this was much bigger.
"A trap for us to fall into?" Harkat asked.
"I doubt it," Vancha said. "The vampaneze would have covered it over if they wanted us to walk into it." He looked up. The platform was built directly over the pit, the support pillars rising from among the stakes. Now that we were close, we could see a long plank connecting the rear right of the platform to a hole in the wall behind it. There was also a thick rope running from the front left side of the platform to our side of the pit, where it was tied to a large holding stake.
"Looks like that's the only way forward," I noted, not liking the set-up one little bit.
"We could skirt the pit and climb the wall," Mr Crepsley suggested.
Vancha shook his head. "Look again," he said.
I peered closely at the wall, as did Mr Crepsley. He saw what we were looking for just before I did and growled something foul beneath his breath.
"What is it?" Harkat asked, his round green eyes not as sharp as ours.
"There are scores of tiny holes in the wall," I said. "Ideal for firing darts or bullets through."
"They'd cut us down in seconds if we tried climbing it," Vancha said.
"That's dumb," Chief Inspector Burgess muttered. We looked back at her. "Why lay a trap here and not in the tunnel?" she asked. "The walls of the tunnel could have been peppered with holes like that one. We had nowhere to turn, nowhere to run. We were sitting ducks. Why leave it till now?"
"Because it isn't a trap," Vancha told her. "It's a warning. They don't want us going that way. They want us to use the platform."
The police chief frowned. "I thought they wanted to kill you."
"They do," Vancha said, "but they want to play with us first."
"Dumb," she muttered again, clutching her knife close to her chest, turning slowly to survey the whole of the cavern, as though she expected demons to dart from the walls and floor.
"You smell that?" Mr Crepsley asked, his nose wrinkling.
"Petrol," I nodded. "It's coming from the pit."
"Perhaps we should move back," Vancha suggested, and we quickly withdrew without need of further prompting.
We examined the rope tethered to the stake. It was thickly woven and taut, professionally tied. Vancha tested it by crawling a few metres along, while we stood with our weapons drawn, covering him.
The Prince looked thoughtful when he returned. "It's strong," he said. "I think it would support all of us at the same time. But we won't chance it. We'll cross one at a time, the same order as we came through the tunnel."
"What about the platform?" Harkat asked. "It could be rigged to collapse when we are on it."
Vancha nodded. "When I get up, I'll hurry to the opening across the plank. Don't come up until I'm safe. When you do, make straight for the tunnel. The same goes for the rest of you. If they take the platform down while we're crossing, only one of us will die."
"Great," the Chief Inspector snorted. "So I've a one infive chance of making it across alive."
"Those are good odds," Vancha said. "Much better than those we'll be facing when the vampaneze make their move."
Vancha made sure his shurikens were strapped tight, grabbed hold of the rope, shimmied up it a few metres, then swung over on to his back, so he was hanging upside-down. He started across, hand over hand, foot over foot. The rope cut up at a steep angle, but the Prince was strong and his pace didn't falter.
He was almost halfway across, dangling over the pit of deadly stakes, when a figure appeared in the mouth of the tunnel. Burgess spotted it first. "Hey!" she shouted, raising a hand to point. "Someone's up there!"
Our eyes and Vancha's snapped to the tunnel entrance. The light was poor, and it was impossible to tell if the figure was big or small, male or female. Then it stepped forward on to the plank and the mystery was solved.
"Steve!" I hissed, eyes filling with hatred.
"Howdy, boys!" the half-vampaneze boomed, striding across the plank, not in the least bit afraid of falling and impaling himself on the stakes beneath. "Find your way here OK? I was expecting you ages ago. Thought you might have got lost. I was preparing a search party to send after you."
Steve reached the platform and walked to the waist-high railing which ran around the sides. He peered down at Vancha and beamed as though welcoming an old friend. "We meet again, Mr March," he chuckled, waving sarcastically.
Vancha snarled like an animal and began crawling faster than before. Steve watched, amused, then reached into a pocket, produced a match and held it up for our eyes to fix on. He winked, bent and struck the match on the floor of the platform. He cupped it close to his face a moment, while it flared into life, then casually tossed it over the railing into the petrol-soaked pit.
There was an explosive roar which almost burst my ear drums. Flames shot up out of the pit like huge, fiery fingers. They billowed over the edges of the platform, but didn't threaten Steve he laughed through the red and yellow wall of fire. The flames scorched the roof and wall to the rear and completely consumed the rope and Vancha, swallowing the Prince whole in the blink of a flame-filled eye.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IDARTEDforward impulsively when I saw Vancha disappear amidst the flames, but was quickly forced bac
k by the waves of fire which rolled down towards me. As they broke upon the floor of the cavern, or spat themselves out in the air above our heads, the sound of Steve Leopards laughter filled my ears. Shielding my eyes with my hands, I glanced up at the platform and saw him leaping about, a heavy sword held high above his head, cheering and whooping with wicked glee. "Bye-bye, Vancha!" he hollered. "So long, Mr March! Adios, Princey! Farewell, vam"
"Don't write my death-notices yet, Leonard!" a voice roared from within the blanket of fire, and as Steve's face dropped, the flames died down slightly, revealing a singed, blackened, but very much alive Vancha March, hanging by one hand from the rope, furiously slapping out flames in his hair and animal hides with the other.
