by Darren Shan
The Stone of Blood was housed in the Hall, and was of vital importance. It was a magical artefact. Any vampire who came to the mountain (most of the three thousand vampires in the world had made the trek at least once) laid their hands on the Stone and let it absorb some of their blood. The Stone could then be used to track that vampire down. So, if Mr Crepsley wanted to know where Arrow was, he had only to lay his hands on the Stone and think about him, and within seconds he'd have a fix on the Prince. Or, if he thought of an area, the Stone would tell him how many vampires were there.
I couldn't use the Stone of Blood to search for others — only full-vampires were able to do that — but I could be traced through it, since it had taken blood from me when I became a Prince.
If the Stone ever fell into the hands of the vampaneze, they could use it to track down all the vampires who'd bonded with it. Hiding from them would be impossible. They'd annihilate us. Because of this danger, some vampires wanted to destroy the Stone of Blood — but there was a legend that it could save us in our hour of greatest need.
I was thinking about all this while Paris used the Stone of Blood to manoeuvre troops in the field. As reports reached us of vampaneze positions, Paris used the Stone to check where his Generals were, then communicated telepathically with them, giving them orders to move from place to place. It was this which drained him so deeply. Others could have used the Stone, but as a Prince, Paris's word was law, and it was quicker for him to deliver the orders himself.
While Paris focused on the Stone, Mr Crepsley and me spent much of our time putting field reports together and building up a clear picture of the movements of the vampaneze. Many other Generals were also doing this, but it was our job to take their findings, sort through them, pick out the more important nuggets, and make suggestions to Paris. We had loads of maps, with pins stuck in to mark the positions of vampires and vampaneze.
Mr Crepsley had been intently studying a map for ten minutes, and he looked worried. "Have you seen this?" he asked eventually, summoning me over.
I stared at the map. There were three yellow flags and two red flags stuck close together around a city. We used five main colours to keep track of things. Blue flags for vampires. Yellow for vampaneze. Green for vampaneze strongholds — cities and towns which they defended like bases. White flags were stuck in places where we'd won fights. Red flags where we'd lost.
"What am I looking for?" I asked, staring at the yellow and red flags. My eyes were bleary from lack of sleep and too much concentrating on maps and poorly scrawled reports.
"The name of the city," Mr Crepsley said, running a fingernail over it.
The name meant nothing to me at first. Then my head cleared. "That's your original home," I muttered. It was the city where Mr Crepsley had lived when he was human. Twelve years ago, he'd returned, taking me and Evra Von — a snake-boy from the Cirque Du Freak — with him, to stop a mad vampaneze called Murlough, who'd gone on a killing spree.
"Find the reports," Mr Crepsley said. There was a number on each flag, linking it to reports in our files, so we knew exactly what each flag represented. After a few minutes, I found the relevant sheets of paper and quickly scanned them.
"Of the vampaneze seen there," I muttered, "two were heading into the city. The other was leaving. The first red flag's from a year ago — four Generals were killed in a large clash with several vampaneze."
"And the second red flag marks the spot where Staffen Irve lost two of his men," Mr Crepsley said. "It was when I was adding this flag to the map that I noticed the degree of activity around the city."
"Do you think it means anything?" I asked. It was unusual for so many vampaneze to be sighted in one location.
"I am not sure," he said. "The vampaneze may have made a base there, but I do not see why — it is out of the way of their other strongholds."
"We could send someone to check," I suggested.
He considered that, then shook his head. "We have already lost too many Generals there. It is not a strategically important site. Best to leave it alone."
Mr Crepsley rubbed the long scar which divided the flesh on the left side of his face and went on staring at the map. He'd cut his orange crop of hair tighter than usual — most vampires were cutting their hair short, because of the ticks — and he looked almost bald in the strong light of the Hall.
"It bothers you, doesn't it?" I noted.
He nodded. "If they have set up a base, they must be feeding on the humans. I still consider it home, and I do not like to think of my spiritual neighbours and relations suffering at the hands of the vampaneze."
"We could send in a team to flush them out."
He sighed. "That would not be fitting. I would be putting personal considerations before the welfare of the clan. If I ever get out in the field, I shall check on the situation myself, but there is no need to send others."
"What are the odds on you and me ever getting out of here?" I asked wryly. I didn't enjoy fighting, but after six years cooped up inside the mountain, I'd have given my fingernails for a few nights out in the open, even if it meant taking on a dozen vampaneze single-handed.
"The way things stand — poor," Mr Crepsley admitted. "I think we will be stuck here until the end of the war. If one of the other Princes suffers a serious injury and withdraws from battle, we might have to replace him. Otherwise…" He drummed his fingers on the map and grimaced.
"You don't have to stay," I said quietly. "There are plenty of others who could guide me."
He barked a laugh. "There are plenty who would steer you," he agreed, "but how many would clip you around the ear if you made an error?"
"Not many," I chuckled.
"They think of you as a Prince," he said, "whereas I still think of you first and foremost as a meddlesome little brat with a penchant for stealing spiders."
"Charming!" I huffed. I knew he was kidding — Mr Crepsley always treated me with the respect my position deserved — but there was some truth to his teasing. There was a special bond between Mr Crepsley and me, like between a father and son. He could say things to me that no other vampire would dare. I'd be lost without him.
Placing the map of Mr Crepsley's former home to one side, we returned to the more important business of the night, little dreaming of the events which would eventually lead us back to the city of Mr Crepsley's youth, or the awful confrontation with evil that awaited us there.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE HALLS and tunnels of Vampire Mountain were buzzing with excitement — Mika Ver Leth had returned after an absence of five years, and the rumour was that he had news of the Vampaneze Lord! I was in my cell, resting, when word broke. Wasting no time, I pulled on my clothes and hurried to the Hall of Princes at the top of the mountain, to check if the stories were true.
Mika was talking with Paris and Mr Crepsley when I arrived, surrounded by a pack of Generals eager for news. He was clad entirely in black, as was his custom, and his hawklike eyes seemed darker and grimmer than ever. He raised one gloved hand in salute when he saw me pushing my way forward. I stood to attention and saluted back. "How's the cub Prince?" he asked with a quick, tight grin.
"Not bad," I replied, studying him for signs of injury — many who returned to Vampire Mountain carried the scars of battle. But although Mika looked tired, he hadn't been visibly wounded. "What about the Vampaneze Lord?" I asked directly. "According to the gossip, you know where he is."
Mika grimaced. "If only!" Looking around, he said, "Shall we assemble? I have news, but I'd rather announce it to the Hall in general." Everyone present made straight for their seats. Mika settled on his throne and sighed contentedly. "It's good to be back," he said, patting the arms of the hard chair. "Has Seba been taking good care of my coffin?"
"To the vampaneze with your coffin!" a General shouted, momentarily forgetting his place. "What news of the Vampaneze Lord?"
Mika ran a hand through his jet-black hair. "First, let's make it clear — I don't know where he is." A g
roan spread through the Hall. "But I've had word of him," Mika added, and all ears pricked up at that.
"Before I begin," Mika said, "do you know about the latest vampaneze recruits?" Everybody looked blank. "The vampaneze have been adding to their ranks since the start of the war, blooding more humans than usual, to drive their numbers up."
"This is old news," Paris murmured. "There are far fewer vampaneze than vampires in the world. We expected them to blood recklessly. It is nothing to worry about — we still outnumber them greatly."
"Yes," Mika said. "But now they're also using unblooded humans. They call them 'vampets'. Apparently the Vampaneze
Lord himself came up with the name. Like him, they're learning the rules of vampaneze life and warfare as humans, before being blooded. He plans to build an army of human helpers."
"We can deal with humans," a General snarled, and there were shouts of agreement.
"Normally," Mika agreed. "But we must be wary of these vampets. While they lack the powers of the vampaneze, they're learning to fight like them. Also, since they aren't blooded, they don't have to abide by the more restrictive vampaneze laws. They aren't honour bound to tell the truth, they don't have to follow ancient customs — and they don't have to limit themselves to hand to hand weapons."
Angry mutters swept through the Hall.
"The vampaneze are using guns?" Paris asked, shocked. The vampaneze were even stricter than vampires where weapons were involved. We could use boomerangs and spears, but most vampaneze wouldn't touch them.
"The vampets aren't vampaneze," Mika grunted. "There's no reason why a non-blooded vampet shouldn't use a gun. I don't think all their masters approve, but under orders from their Lord, they allow it.
"But the vampets are a problem for another night," Mika continued. "I only mention them now because it's relevant to how I found out about their Lord. A vampaneze would die screaming before betraying his clan, but the vampets aren't so hardened. I captured one a few months ago and squeezed some interesting details out of him.
Foremost of which is — the Vampaneze Lord doesn't have a base. He's travelling the world with a small band of guards, moving among the various fighting units, keeping up morale."
The Generals received the news with great excitement — if the Vampaneze Lord was mobile and lightly protected, he was more vulnerable to attack.
"Did this vampet know where the Vampaneze Lord was?" Mr Crepsley asked.
"No," Mika said. "He'd seen him, but that had been more than a year ago. Only those who accompany him know of his travel patterns."
"What else did he tell you?" Paris enquired.
"That their Lord still hasn't been blooded. And that despite his efforts, morale is low. Vampaneze losses are high, and many don't believe they can win the war. There has been talk of a peace treaty — even outright surrender."
Loud cheering broke out. Some Generals were so elated by Mika's words that a group swept forward, picked him up, and carried him from the Hall. They could be heard singing and shouting as they headed for the crates of ale and wine stored below. The other, more sober-headed Generals looked to Paris for guidance.
"Go on," the elderly Prince smiled. "It would be impolite to let Mika and his over-eager companions drink alone."
The remaining Generals applauded the announcement and hurried away, leaving only a few Hall attendants, myself, Mr Crepsley and Paris behind.
"This is foolish," Mr Crepsley grumbled. "If the vampaneze are truly considering surrender, we should push hard after them, not waste time—"
"Larten," Paris interrupted. "Follow the others, find the largest barrel of ale you can, and get good and steaming drunk."
Mr Crepsley stared at the Prince, his mouth wide open. "Paris!" he gasped.
"You have been caged in here too long," Paris said. "Go and unwind, and do not return without a hangover."
"But—" Mr Crepsley began.
"That is an order, Larten," Paris growled.
Mr Crepsley looked as though he'd swallowed a live eel, but he was never one to disobey an order from a superior, so he clicked his heels together, muttered, "Aye, Sire," and stormed off to the store-rooms in a huff.
"I've never seen Mr Crepsley with a hangover," I laughed. "What's he like?"
"Like a… what do the humans say? A gorilla with a sore head?" Paris coughed into a fist — he'd been coughing a lot lately — then smiled. "But it will do him good. Larten takes life too seriously sometimes."
"What about you?" I asked. "Do you want to go?"
Paris pulled a sour face. "A mug of ale would prove the end of me. I shall take advantage of the break by lying in my coffin at the back of the Hall and getting a full day's sleep."
"Are you sure? I can stay if you want."
"No. Go and enjoy yourself. I will be fine."
"OK." I hopped off my throne and made for the door.
"Darren," Paris called me back. "An excessive amount of alcohol is as bad for the young as for the old. If you are wise, you will drink in moderation."
"Remember what you told me about wisdom a few years ago, Paris?" I replied.
"What?"
"You said the only way to get wise was to get experienced." Winking, I rushed out of the Hall and was soon sharing a barrel of ale with a grumpy, orange-haired vampire. Mr Crepsley gradually cheered up as the night progressed, and was singing loudly by the time he reeled back to his coffin late the following morning.
CHAPTER FIVE
I COULDN'T understand why there were two moons in the sky when I awoke, or why they were green. Groaning, I rubbed the back of a hand over my eyes, then looked again. I realized I was lying on the floor, staring up at the green eyes of a chuckling Harkat Mulds. "Have fun last night?" he asked.
"I've been poisoned," I moaned, rolling over on to my stomach, feeling as though I was on the deck of a ship during a fierce storm.
"You won't be wanting boar guts and… bat broth then?"
"Don't!" I winced, weak at the very thought of food.
"You and the others must have drained… half the mountain's supply of ale last night," Harkat remarked, helping me to my feet.
"Is there an earthquake?" I asked as he let go of me.
"No," he said, puzzled.
"Then why's the floor shaking?"
He laughed and steered me to my hammock. I'd been sleeping inside the door of our cell. I had vague memories of falling off the hammock every time I tried to get on. "I'll just sit on the floor a while," I said.
"As you wish," Harkat chortled. "Would you like some ale?"
"Go away or I'll hit you," I growled.
"Is ale no longer to your liking?"
"No!"
"That's funny. You were singing about how much you… loved it earlier. Ale, ale, I drink like a whale, I am the… Prince, the Prince of ale'."
"I could have you tortured," I warned him.
"Never mind," Harkat said. "The whole clan went crazy… last night. It takes a lot to get a vampire drunk, but… most managed. I've seen some wandering the tunnels, looking lik—"
"Please," I begged, "don't describe them." Harkat laughed again, pulled me to my feet and led me out of the cell, into the maze of tunnels. "Where are we going?" I asked.
"The Hall of Perta Vin Grahl. I asked Seba about cures… for hangovers — I had a feeling you'd have one — and he said… a shower usually did the trick."
"No!" I moaned. "Not the showers! Have mercy!"
Harkat took no notice of my pleas, and soon he was shoving me under the icy cold waters of the internal waterfalls in the Hall of Perta Vin Grahl. I thought my head was going to explode when the water first struck, but after a few minutes the worst of my headache had passed and my stomach had settled. By the time I was towelling myself dry, I felt a hundred times better.
We passed a green-faced Mr Crepsley on our way back to our cell. I bid him a good evening, but he only snarled in reply.
"I'll never understand the appeal of… alcohol," Harkat said as
I was dressing.
"Haven't you ever got drunk?" I replied.
"Perhaps in my past life, but not since… becoming a Little Person. I don't have taste buds, and alcohol doesn't… affect me."
"Lucky you," I muttered sourly.
Once I'd dressed, we strolled up to the Hall of Princes to see if Paris needed me, but it was largely deserted and Paris was still in his coffin.
"Let's go on a tour of the tunnels… beneath the Halls," Harkat suggested. We'd done a lot of exploring when we first came to the mountain, but it had been two or three years since we'd last gone off on an adventure.
"Don't you have work to do?" I asked.
"Yes, but…" He frowned. It took a while to get used to Harkat's expressions — it was hard to know whether someone without eyelids and a nose was frowning or grinning — but I'd learnt to read them. "It will hold. I feel strange. I need to be on the move."
"OK," I said. "Let's go walkabout."
We started in the Hall of Corza Jarn, where trainee Generals were taught how to fight. I'd spent many hours here, mastering the use of swords, knives, axes and spears. Most of the weapons were designed for adults, and were too large and cumbersome for me to master, but I'd picked up the basics.
The highest ranking tutor was a blind vampire called Vanez Blane. He'd been my Trials Master during both my Trials of Initiation. He'd lost his left eye in a fight with a lion many decades before, and lost the second six years ago in a fight with the vampaneze.
Vanez was wrestling with three young Generals. Though he was blind, he'd lost none of his sharpness, and the trio ended up flat on their backs in short order at the hands of the ginger-haired games master. "You'll have to learn to do better than that," he told them. Then, with his back to us, he said, "Hello, Darren. Greetings, Harkat Mulds."
"Hi, Vanez," we replied, not surprised that he knew who we were — vampires have very keen senses of smell and hearing.
"I heard you singing last night, Darren," Vanez said, leaving his three students to recover and regroup.
"No!" I gasped, crestfallen. I'd thought Harkat was joking about that.
