Trials of Death. Darren Shan

Trials of Death - Darren Shan


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      TRIALS OF DEATH

      THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

       BOOK 5

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      TRIALS OF DEATH

      THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

       BOOK 5

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      If your trip to Vampire Mountain leaves you

       bloodthirsty for more, visit Shanville

      – home of Darren Shan –

      at www.darrenshan.com

      For:

      Nora & Davey – ever-gracious hosts

      OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

       The enormous, fearsome Emily Ford

       Kellee “take no prisoners” Nunley

      Mechanics of the Macabre:

       Biddy & Liam

       Gillie & Zoë

       Emma & Chris

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Other Books in the Series The Saga of Darren Shan

      Copyright

      About the Publisher

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      PROLOGUE

      IF PEOPLE ever tell you vampires aren’t real — don’t believe them! The world’s full of vampires. Not evil, shape-changing, cross-fearing creatures like in the legends, but honorable, long-living, extra-strong beings who need to drink blood to survive. They interfere as little as possible in the affairs of humans, and never kill those they drink from.

      Hidden away in some snowy, barely accessible corner of the world, stands Vampire Mountain, where vampires meet every twelve years. The Council (as they call it) is presided over by the Vampire Princes – who are obeyed by all vampires – and most of those in attendance are Vampire Generals, whose job is to govern the walking undead.

      In order to present me to the Princes, Mr Crepsley had dragged me along to Vampire Mountain and the Council. Mr Crepsley’s a vampire. I’m his assistant, a half-vampire — my name’s Darren Shan.

      It was a long, hard journey. We travelled with a friend of ours – Gavner Purl – four wolves and two Little People, strange creatures who work for a mysterious master by the name of Mr Tiny. One of the Little People was killed on the way by a mad bear which had drunk the blood of a dead vampaneze (they’re like vampires, except they have purple skin, red eyes, nails and hair — and they always kill when they feed). The other then spoke – the first time ever that a Little Person had communicated with anyone – and told us his name was Harkat Mulds. He also delivered a chilling message from Mr Tiny: a Vampaneze Lord would soon come into power and lead the purple-skinned killers into war against the vampires — and win!

      Finally we arrived at Vampire Mountain, inside which the vampires lived in a warren of tunnels and large caves. There I made friends with a number of vampires, including Seba Nile, who’d been Mr Crepsley’s teacher when he was younger; Arra Sails, one of the few female vampires; Vanez Blane, a one-eyed games master; and Kurda Smahlt, a General who was soon to become a Prince.

      The Princes and most of the Generals weren’t impressed with me. They said I was too young to be a vampire and criticized Mr Crepsley for blooding me. To prove myself worthy of being a half-vampire, I had to undertake the Trials of Initiation, a series of tough tests usually reserved for budding Generals. When I was making up my mind to accept the challenge, they told me that if I passed, I’d be accepted into the vampire ranks. What they neglected to tell me until afterwards (when it was too late to back out) was that if I failed — I’d be killed!

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      CHAPTER ONE

      THE VAST cavern known as the Hall of Khledon Lurt was almost deserted. Apart from those sitting at my table – Gavner, Kurda and Harkat – there was only one other vampire present, a guard who sat by himself and sipped from a mug of ale, whistling tunelessly.

      Roughly four hours had passed since I learned I was to be judged in the Trials of Initiation. I still didn’t know very much about the Trials, but from the glum faces of my companions, and by what had been said in the Hall of Princes, I gathered my chances of emerging victorious were, at best, slim.

      While Kurda and Gavner muttered on about my Trials, I studied Harkat, who I hadn’t seen much of recently (he’d been cooped up in the Hall of Princes, answering questions). He was dressed in his traditional blue robes, although he now wore his hood down, no longer bothering to hide his grey, scarred, stitched-together face. Harkat had no nose, and his ears were sewn beneath the skin of his skull. He had a pair of large, round, green eyes, set near the top of his head. His mouth was jagged and full of sharp teeth. Normal air was poisonous to him – ten or twelve hours of it would kill him – so he wore a special mask which kept him alive. He moved it down over his chin when he was talking or eating, and back up to cover his mouth when he wasn’t. Harkat had once been human, but had died and come back in this body, after striking a deal with Mr Tiny. He couldn’t remember who he’d been or what sort of a deal he’d struck.

      Harkat had carried a message to the Princes from Mr Tiny, to the effect that the night of the Vampaneze Lord was at hand. The Vampaneze Lord was a mythical figure whose arrival would supposedly signal the start of a war between the vampires and vampaneze, which – according to Mr Tiny – the vampaneze would win, wiping out the vampire forces in the process.

      Catching my eye, Harkat lowered his mask and said, “Have you … seen much of … the Halls?”

      “A fair bit of them,” I replied.

      “You must … take me … on a tour.”

      “Darren won’t have much time for tours,” Kurda sighed miserably. “Not with the Trials to prepare for.”

      “Tell me more about these Trials,” I said.

      “The Trials are part of our vampiric heritage, going back as long as any vampire can remember,” Gavner told me. Gavner Purl was a Vampire General. He was very burly, with short brown hair, and he had a scarred, beaten face. Mr Crepsley often teased him about his heavy breathing and snoring. “In the old nights they were held at every Council,” Gavner continued, “and every vampire had to endure them, even if they’d


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