The Saga of Larten Crepsley 1-4. Darren Shan
say in years to come that they had faced him in his prime. He did not win every fight – nobody does – but he won far more than any other vampire in recent centuries.
“I remember the first time Perta came to Vampire Mountain.” Seba smiled at the ancient memory. “He was skinny and dirty — Vancha March is a dandy compared to the young Perta Vin-Grahl! He had been blooded as a child but, like you, had never had much contact with other vampires until he came here. He challenged just about every General at Council that year.”
“Let me guess,” Larten sniffed. “He lost every fight, like I did.”
“No,” Seba said. “He was a tiger even then. He won most of the contests in which he took part. And those that he lost, he only lost narrowly, after a long, bloody fight.
“I mentioned that first Council to Perta many years later. I thought he would recall it with pride. But his face grew dark and he said he wished he had been beaten to a pulp. He said triumphing in so many challenges was the worst thing that ever happened to him.”
Larten frowned. “Winning was bad?”
Seba nodded. “I was bewildered too, until he explained. A few years later, Perta was travelling with five young vampires. They looked to him as their leader and teacher, even though he had not blooded them. One of them hatched a plan to kidnap Lady Evanna and force her to bear children.” He noted Larten’s confusion and gestured impatiently. “That is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, the Lady of the Wilds is a great sorceress. You cross her at your peril.
“Perta was fearless and led his group against her. She fought back and killed all five of his companions. Perta escaped only because he was stronger and faster than the rest. She chased him for six months before one of the Princes begged for mercy on his behalf and convinced her to leave him be.
“Perta felt that he had the blood of those vampires on his hands. He had failed to consider their weaknesses. Having never tasted real defeat, he assumed nothing bad could happen to him or those who put their trust in him. That deadly encounter with Evanna taught him a costly lesson. But if he had tasted defeat earlier in his life, he would never have followed such a fatal course. Those five vampires might still be alive.
“It is good to be taught humility when we are young,” Seba said softly. “If we do not experience pain as children, we will cause pain as adults. You have to learn from your beatings. Accept your shortcomings and work on correcting them, but welcome them too. You might one night be asked to lead others. If so, you must be able to see people as they are, not as you yourself might be. A true champion must know not only his own mind and heart — he must know the minds and hearts of those weaker than himself. You can only do that if you have stood where they stand.”
Seba patted the wolves and smiled. “They are not so fast, these beasts, but they are strong. They can run for many miles and endure. We are not so different. It is hard for one so young as you to peer forward and focus on the centuries ahead of us, but I ask you to accept the word of one much older than you. Your losses now will profit you in the long run, if you learn from them, if you accept them and seek to rise above them for the right reasons.”
“The right reasons?” Larten echoed.
“Come back and face Staffen Irve again,” Seba said. “Ignore the jeers of those who mocked you. Wounded as you are, weaker and slower than Staffen, you should still challenge him and be defeated again, so that you can learn and grow.”
Larten thought about that, then hobbled to his feet. “How long do you think it will take?” he asked. “How many losses must I endure before I can be a great warrior like Perta Vin-Grahl?”
Seba sighed — his assistant hadn’t understood. This wasn’t about overcoming one’s limits, but acknowledging and living with them. He thought about trying again, but he felt either he lacked the right words, or else Larten was not yet ready to hear. Perhaps the young vampire had to learn his lessons the hard way, as Perta Vin-Grahl had.
“More losses than your ego can bear, less than your body can endure,” Seba answered. As Larten puzzled over that, the elderly vampire clapped his assistant’s back and offered his arm for support. With Larten leaning on his master, the wolves trailing close behind, the pair commenced the long climb back to the Halls of Vampire Mountain.
PART FOUR
“Now there’s a man with style!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Do it again.”
Larten scowled and picked himself up off the forest floor. Flicking twigs and moss from his hair and clothes, he climbed the tall tree and edged out along a branch the width of his wrist. When he got as far as he could standing up, he bent, gripped the branch with his hands and kicked his feet into the air. It took him a few seconds to find his balance. Once he was steady, he walked out further on his hands.
“Stop,” Seba said as the branch creaked and bowed from the weight. He was sitting higher up in the tree, chewing a bone. Wester was at the end of another branch, balanced on his hands like Larten.
Larten stared at the ground, feeling sweat trickle along his neck. Seba watched for a while, still chewing. Then, without warning, he tossed the bone in Larten’s direction, but a couple of feet beyond the branch on which the young vampire was precariously perched.
“Catch it!” Seba barked.
Larten’s left hand shot out and his fingers clutched for the bone. He almost made contact, but as had happened sixteen times already, his right hand shook wildly, he lost his balance and fell with a startled cry, hitting the earth not long after the bone.
Seba tutted, then said, “Do it again.”
As Larten muttered angrily and climbed back up the tree, Seba dug another bone out of the bag in his lap, then threw it at Wester. His other assistant enjoyed no more success than Larten had and was soon picking himself up from the floor and wincing.
“This is ridiculous,” Larten grumbled, staring at the branch with something close to hatred. “It is an impossible task.”
“Not at all,” Seba said. “Every vampire learns to do this. It is a basic test.”
Larten squinted suspiciously at his master. There had been a lot of basic tests in recent years, ever since their visit to Vampire Mountain. Larten and Wester had failed most of them. He was starting to think that Seba was playing with them, setting goals that they couldn’t possibly achieve. But why would he humiliate them in such a fashion? Maybe the tests were genuine and his assistants simply weren’t up to the standards required of trainee Generals.
“I almost caught it that time,” Wester said, joining them in the branches.
“No,” Larten grunted. “You were nowhere close.”
“Thanks for the confidence boost,” Wester pouted.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” Larten asked Seba.
The elderly vampire shrugged. “The Generals are very demanding. They will test you in many ways. You must be flexible and experienced in a variety of skills. If you cannot do this, there is no point going any further with your lessons.”
Larten sighed, shared a resigned look with Wester, then edged out along the branch for the eighteenth time.
Seba chewed a bone and watched neutrally. He waited until Larten was in position, then lobbed the bone at him, closed his eyes and waited for the thud. When it came, his lips twitched and he almost smiled. But when he opened his eyes again, there was no hint of a grin on his carefully composed face.
“Do it again.”
Larten was in a foul mood when they made camp for the day. It had been a long, tiring night, but there was to be no rest for him.
“I would like a loaf of bread when I wake,” Seba said as he yawned and made himself comfortable. “Will you fetch one for me,