by T. H. Hunter
But at that moment, I heard the flapping of enormous wings, dozens of gargoyles had taken off, diving in my direction.
I was almost at the platform, ready to pounce onto the drawbridge. At last, I reached the it and dived forward as far as I could, spinning in the air with my arms and legs. Barely, I grabbed the edge of the drawbridge with my fingers, swinging precariously over the chasm below. I hardened my hold. The beasts were close, but with my last remaining energy, I heaved myself up and rolled down the ascending drawbridge on the other side, hitting the stone ground directly in front of the gates with a painful smack of flesh on hard rock.
Before I could even get up, two gargoyles grabbed me, their claws painfully piercing my shoulders. I yelled, lashing out wildly around me, yet more of the beasts closed in on me, drawing me up into the air through the gap between the gate and the drawbridge.
They flew over to the platform and hurled me onto to it. My hands and arms hit rough stone once more. They were cut all over, blood was streaming from them. I turned towards the drawbridge; it was almost up now. A dozen gargoyles had formed an impenetrable wall in mid-air. There was no way getting around them. Even if I jumped again, they’d easily catch me. When the drawbridge had kissed the upper stone of the castle’s gates, all but one of them took off, rejoining their brethren on the battlements.
The remaining gargoyle flapped toward me. It looked like the biggest and meanest of the lot, with massive wings propelling its huge body toward me. I forced myself to stand, to brace myself for what was coming.
Yet the attack never came. Instead, it produced a folded piece of paper, thrusting it roughly in my direction. The gleam in its eye was dangerous, though not without curiosity. I reached out and took the paper. Immediately, the beast took off, and left me alone on the platform.
I slowly unfolded it, reading the following words:
The body squirms, the mind unfolds its will
To reach another shore beyond its reach,
Yet will alone cannot provide the skill
To land and live and thrive at this new beach,
Vampiric might shall be attained in time,
When faith and loyalty has swelled your bliss
Through sacrifice that purges doubt and crime
By facing bravely the abyss.
Great. A riddle. Just what I needed. I had always hated these guessing games at school. The situation, however, was slightly more dire now.
I racked my brains, reading the poem again. Yet will alone cannot provide the skill. Well, that was certainly encouraging. It was also perfectly true, of course. It was impossible to jump the distance, and would have been so even for the likes of Jayden. Yet how did they expect me to get there, then?
I read the second stanza again. A horrible feeling swept over me as I read it, and I recalled what Lynn had told me about the vampires. That the vampires value loyalty above all else. They wanted me to trust them fully and blindly.
The Trial wasn’t about skill. It never had been. All those hours of training and practicing, measuring distances and taking times, it had all been an elaborate cover. They wanted total and utter commitment, proof of how badly I wanted to be part of their world.
And they wanted me to demonstrate it. But how? An awful prickly feeling at the back of my neck told me that I already knew. I read the poem’s last line again. By facing bravely the abyss.
I stepped forward to the very edge of the platform. It was quiet all around me. I looked down. My head was spinning, my knees shaking. The chasm enveloped me like a whirlwind. I raised my head to gaze up at the gargoyles, who returned my stare, unblinking and immovable. The figures in black robes remained silent, watching intently.
It was a massive gamble. If I had misunderstood the poem in some way, there was nothing but hard rock to break my fall. Nobody could survive that, not even a vampire.
I looked back at the tent for the last time. Not a sound came from the remaining Uninitiated. There was no turning back. This was the moment that I had to trust myself, trust my instincts.
I took one last deep breath. And then, I stepped off the cliff.
8
I yelled in fear, I was dropping fast, but none of the gargoyles above me had moved an inch. I was going to die.
But then I heard the flapping of wings from below me, a swarm of gargoyles must have been waiting there, hidden somehow. This time, I willingly submitted to their clasps as they caught me. Their grips were firm, and the flood of adrenaline was superseded by a rush of gratitude, grateful to be alive.
They carried me high above the castle’s towers, and for the first time I could see its full beauty, its majesty only matched by the Carpathian Mountains stretching as far as the eye could see into the horizon. I was surprised at how far back the castle extended, much longer than I had imagined.
The gargoyles’ grip tightened and we descended into the courtyard below. They flapped furiously yet powerfully against gravity. The landing was soft this time, directly in front of the castle’s keep.
My knees finally gave way, and I fell on all fours. It was so good to be back on solid ground again, I could have kissed the stone in front of me. Shaking, I steadied myself and got up. I was so glad to be alive. So glad to live.
There was a sombre man with a pencil moustache at the large wooden door in front of me.
I greeted the man, who responded courteously and opened the doors for me.
“Congratulations, Initiate. Inside and follow the corridor, if you please,” he said, adding on noticing my bleeding hands: “There are bathroom facilities along the way to your left.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
It was impossible not to grin, not to feel elated. At the same time, I knew that this was what the vampires had designed the initiation to be – what they had wanted from me. And I couldn’t deny it – it had worked.
I entered into some sort of antechamber. An archway led me to a corridor beyond. Torches had been lit along the rough stone walls, although the light coming through the small windows was still more than enough, at least for the time being. But who knows how long the Trial would still take?
Suddenly, I bumped into something soft.
“Careful,” came a gruff yet familiar voice.
I looked up. It was Doctor Wiley. I had run right into him, or rather his gigantic pouch. How embarrassing.
“Terribly sorry, Doctor, didn’t see you there,” I said.
“Oh, it’s you, Flynn,” he said, looking me up and down. “Glad you made it, very glad indeed. Takes great courage, you know.”
“Thank you,” I said, “Were you watching from above as well?”
“Yes, yes, I was. Waited for you to make it, in fact. But I have some very urgent business to attend to… can’t be avoided I’m afraid. Will only take a few minutes. Well, I’ll see you at the ceremony.”
And with that, he was off. He had looked worried to me, quite unlike his usual boyish self.
I passed further along the corridor until I reached the bathrooms. The cuts weren’t too bad, but I give them a good rinse anyway. I stepped back into the corridor and followed it until I reached another archway with a tapestry acting as a curtain. I was average height for a girl, but I had to bend slightly in order to pass, pushing aside the tapestry in the process. I found myself in the largest hall I had ever seen in my life. It was packed with people, well over a thousand, sitting at dark wooden tables. Most, I could see, were in their late teens or twenties. The tables stretched outward from the middle of the hall, like rays of sunshine in a child’s drawing. At the centre, slightly elevated, stood a massive fountain made of stone. Above the students’ heads, large boxes like galleries in an opera house overlooked the hall, with more students and presumably staff seated there.
As soon as I stepped further into the hall, the crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause. A woman dressed in plain black robes, her hair in tight bun, approached me. She was in her 40s, very thin, and was wearing a sour demeanour that disfigu
red what must have been a pretty face in her youth.
She extended her hand to me. I shook it.
“Miss Flynn?” she asked sharply, checking her list.
“That’s me,” I said.
“Welcome to Cranvin Castle. My name is Mrs. Prill. We’re happy to welcome you. Congratulations.”
Whatever was coming out of her mouth, she didn’t look as if she meant any of it. But I was far too happy to care.
“The newly Initiated sit in the inner ring. Dinner will be served as soon as everyone is done,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said, still unable to stop grinning.
From amongst the crowd, Lynn was beckoning furiously to me. I crossed over to her, greeting the people I recognised from the training camp along the way. They all looked tremendously relieved. The clapping subsided, and people began chatting amongst themselves again.
“How did it go, Beccs?” Lynn asked, getting up from her seat and hugging me.
Before I could answer, a familiar voice spoke:
“Yes, I was rather curious about that, too, you know.”
I swung around to see who it was. It was Raphael from my rescue party. He was wearing black robes that sported a emblem on his chest, a rose with two swords crossed. He looked even taller than I had remembered. He was wearing a confident, almost teasing smile as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to jump off a cliff,” I said, but the voice seemed to be entirely someone else’s. Why did I sound so out of breath?
“I hope not when I was around?” Raphael said, grinning and then winking at Lynn, who was making sniggering noises in the background.
“Not so far, but who can predict the future?” I said.
“I’d better watch out then,” he said, his gaze penetrating my every molecule.
He suddenly switched gears completely, his easy smile giving way to a hard and serious look on his face.
“I heard what happened to your grandfather. I’m sorry that he passed away. Did they bury him here?”
“Yes, the grave is down in the village. It’s very well looked after. Thanks for rescuing us, by the way.”
“Least I could do,” he murmured. “I’ll hopefully see you around, Rebecca,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I… I’ll see you around.”
When he was out of earshot, Lynn pounced on me.
“You didn’t tell me you know the Prince!” she said.
“I – the what?” I said.
“That was Prince Raphael, King Rurik’s son, Beccs,” Lynn said. “Didn’t you know?”
“No… No, I didn’t. He was part of the party that saved me from the Slayers.”
“Oooh, I didn’t know that he was part of the rescue team. He likes you, you know.”
“I bet he does that with every girl he saves,” I said. I wasn’t even sure I believed it myself, but I still felt furious somehow.
“No, he doesn’t,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw it,” Lynn said, “boys, well, you can tell. They just look at you in a certain way.”
“Still doesn’t mean I like him,” I said sulkily.
Lynn burst out laughing. It was so contagious that I couldn’t stop myself, despite my best efforts, from joining in. But then Lynn might be a lot wiser than I was in these matters.
“So how did the Trial go for you? It sounded awful, I was really worried when you went out,” I said, trying to change the subject.
Lynn began relating her tale. In retrospect, of course, it all sounded as if we’d had the time of our lives. Perhaps we had. We were briefly interrupted by the next round of applause. Steve, his colour almost returned to his tanned face, had his hand shaken by Mrs. Prill. He walked over to the table next to him, in the outer ring, and Mrs. Prill quickly bustled over to tick him off. The hall laughed good-humouredly. Steve, red in the face, laughed apologetically and then made his way over to the Initiates’ table next to ours, which happened to be where Vanessa and Jayden were sitting. Vanessa gave him one haughty look and continued to engage Jayden in conversation. I noticed that Jayden, though friendly enough towards Vanessa, kept looking in Lynn’s direction.
“And when the drawbridge went up, I didn’t know what to do,” Lynn continued. “I thought at first I’d have to get one of the gargoyles to come and pick me up or something. But he only gave me that poem.”
Others were listening in to our conversation now, too, adding their own details of what had happened to them. The entire inner ring of tables was abuzz with talk and discussion, only interrupted by our enthusiastic welcome of all those that had passed the Trial. It was good to see people happy again, to feel that way myself.
The light was steadily fading now, and more torches were being lit around the hall. There couldn’t be many Uninitiated left.
At long last, after welcoming yet another fresh Initiate, Mrs. Prill, raising her voice above the babble of the crowd, said:
“Dinner will be served now. Please remain seated. The feeding will occur in exactly one hour from now.”
Dozens of helpers – perhaps workers from the village, though it was hard to tell – brought in enormous plates with roast chicken, mutton, venison, vegetables and every conceivable side dish. Great trays of desserts were shouldered by them, while barrels of Romanian beers and wines, the names of which I’d never heard of in my life, were rolled in. The hall soon erupted in a cacophony of clinking cutlery.
“I’m thirsty,” Lynn said suddenly.
“Well, have something to drink,” I said, pushing the pitcher of water toward her.
“Not that stuff, the Elixir!”
Judging by the quick affirmations around us, most people were feeling that way, too, and so was I. My throat felt dry somehow despite drinking water, like an unquenchable thirst.
When all had finished their meals, and the plates had been carried off, Doctor Yurasov, whom I hadn’t noticed up in the galleries so far, stepped forward and announced the speaker.
“First Warden, Doctor Stephanopoulos,” he said in a loud and deep voice.
A man stepped forward and gripped the balustrade with both hands. He was a distinguished-looking man. He had pitch-black hair with greying temples. His black robes with white lining matched his hair perfectly.
Overlooking the crowd with a calm benignity, Stephanopoulos held out his left hand for silence. He had a certain charisma that reminded me of a preacher.
“Thank you, Doctor Yurasov, our Second Warden,” he said, inclining his head in Yurasov’s direction. “I wish to extend the warmest welcome to the newest members of our family. As the staff and I have just witnessed, you have proven yourselves worthy of study within our walls, and I commend you for your courage and commitment.
“This is the beginning – not the end – of your journey. It is the will and obligation of this institution to train you in the Vampiric Arts, to hone the gift that fate has so fortunately bestowed upon you. I have seen many students pass through these halls in my lifetime, and few of them had a true understanding of just how much potential lay within them. We will help you to uncover that potential.
“But with ability also comes responsibility. It is an uncomfortable fact of history that our community abused its powers to take advantage of the innocent and the weak, of neighbours or even our own families. We preferred to satisfy our own selfish needs rather than to respect the right to life of others.
“Though we may never rectify the past, we can at least atone for its evils and work toward a brighter future. From our modest attempts at controlling our instincts many decades ago, we have come a very long way. The Vampiric Council’s unanimous vote for the total prohibition on the drinking of blood still stands as strong as it ever did.”
At this point, there was a great deal of muttering throughout the hall. I looked about and saw several people shaking their heads and whispering in an unmistakably hostile manner. Others, however, were nodding their heads in emphat
ic agreement. The vast majority of the newly Initiated – me included – looked rather taken aback.
First Warden Stephanopoulos paused, waiting for silence to return.
“I realise,” he continued, “that progress and change are difficult. We all feel the draw of blood just as acutely as each of you sitting here before me, I can assure you. We fight every day to purge it from our minds. It is a constant reminder of the danger we pose to others and of our holy mission to control it.
“Our doctors have been working on a substitute for many years. It is therefore with great satisfaction that I can announce major improvements to the Elixir this year. The Fountain before us has served the Vampiric Community for centuries. Instead of having the blood of countless innocents flow from it, however, we can offer a safe and ethical alternative. I implore you all to keep this in mind when feeding.”
Stephanopoulos stepped back from the balustrade, and there was a round of applause. Whistles and yells were accompanied by booing.
“Doesn’t seem to be too popular, does he?” Lynn said.
She was right. It was impossible to give an estimate, but a significant portion of the students seemed to be less than happy about the speech.
Before we had any opportunity to discuss the matter further, a gong echoed throughout the hall, and Doctor Yurasov appeared at the fountain. All the staff had risen from their places and stood next to Stephanopoulos, who was watching the scene below.
“The Feeding begins,” Yurasov said curtly, pointing to a table with more senior students.
They immediately got up, forming a line leading to the fountain. The college watched as they stepped forward and Doctor Yurasov filled a goblet with the Elixir. Yurasov then beckoned them onwards. The process with so many students took quite a while, though it was faster than I had expected. The students seemed eager to drink despite it not being the real thing.
The newly Initiated were the last to drink. We got up, mirroring the behaviour of the older students. When it was my turn, Doctor Yurasov gave me another one of his cryptic looks.
