Vampire War Trilogy. Darren Shan
him. “He is their Lord. They will sacrifice their lives to protect him.”
“Will our fellow vampires back us up if we run into trouble?” Vancha responded.
“No, but that is because…” Mr Crepsley stopped.
“…Mr Tiny’s told them not to,” Vancha grinned. “And if he’s picked just three vampires to go head to head with the Vampaneze Lord, maybe –”
“ – he has only picked three vampaneze to help their Lord!” Mr Crepsley finished, excited.
“Right,” Vancha beamed. “So the odds against us besting him are, in my view, better than even. Do you agree?” All three of us nodded thoughtfully. “Now,” he continued, “let’s say we make a pig’s ear of it. We face him four times, we blow it, and our chance to defeat him passes. What happens then?”
“He leads the vampaneze into war against the vampires and wins,” I said.
“Exactly.” Vancha’s smile faded. “By the way, I don’t believe that. I don’t care how powerful their Lord is, or what Des Tiny says – in a war with the vampaneze, I’m certain we’ll win. But if we don’t, I’d rather die beforehand, fighting for our future, than be there to watch the walls of our world come crashing down.”
“Brave words,” I grunted sourly.
“The truth,” Vancha insisted. “Would you prefer to die at the hands of the Vampaneze Lord, when hope is still on our side, or survive and bear witness to the downfall of the clan?” I didn’t reply, so Vancha went on. “If the predictions are true, and we fail, I don’t want to be around for the end. It would be a terrible tragedy, and would madden anyone who saw it.
“Believe me,” Vancha said, “the two who die in that eventuality will be fortunate. We shouldn’t worry about dying – it’s living we have to fear if we fail!”
I didn’t get much sleep that day, thinking about what Vancha had said. I doubt if any of us slept much, except Evanna, who snored even louder than the Prince.
Vancha was right. If we failed, the one who survived would have the worst time of all. He’d have to watch the vampires perish, and bear the burden of blame. If we were to fail, death along the way was the best any of us could hope for.
Our spirits had lifted when we rose that evening. We were no longer afraid of what lay ahead, and instead of talking negatively, we discussed our route. “Mr Tiny said to follow our hearts,” Mr Crepsley reminded us. “He said fate would lead us if we placed ourselves in its hands.”
“You don’t think we should try tracking down the Vampaneze Lord?” Vancha asked.
“Our people have spent six years seeking him, without success,” Mr Crepsley said. “Of course we must keep our eyes peeled, but otherwise I believe we should go about our business as if he did not exist.”
“I don’t like it,” Vancha grumbled. “Fate’s a cruel mistress. What if destiny doesn’t lead us to him? Do you want to report back in a year and say, ‘Sorry, we didn’t run into the blighter, bad luck, what?’”
“Mr Tiny said to follow our hearts,” Mr Crepsley repeated stubbornly.
Vancha threw his hands into the air. “OK – we’ll do it your way. But you two will have to pick the course – as many women have attested, I’m a boundless cad who doesn’t have a heart.”
Mr Crepsley smiled thinly. “Darren? Where do you want to go?”
I started to say I didn’t care, then stopped as an image flashed through my thoughts – a picture of a snake-boy sticking an extra long tongue up his nose. “I’d like to see how Evra’s doing,” I said.
Mr Crepsley nodded approvingly. “Good. Just last night I was wondering what my old friend Hibernius Tall was up to. Harkat?”
“Sounds good to me,” Harkat agreed.
“So be it.” Facing Vancha, Mr Crepsley said in as imperious a tone as he could muster, “Sire, we head for the Cirque Du Freak.”
And so our direction was decided and the dice of destiny were cast.
MR CREPSLEY was able to tap into Mr Tall’s thoughts and pinpoint the position of the Cirque Du Freak. The travelling circus was relatively near, and it would take us only three weeks to link up with it if we forced the pace.
After a week, we hit civilization again. As we passed a small town one night, I asked Mr Crepsley why we didn’t hop on a bus or train, which would get us to the Cirque Du Freak much quicker. “Vancha does not approve of human modes of transport,” he said. “He has never been in a car or on a train.”
“Never?” I asked the barefooted Prince.
“I wouldn’t even spit on a car,” he said. “Awful things. The shape, the noise, the smell.” He shivered.
“What about planes?”
“If the gods of the vampires meant for us to fly,” he said, “they’d have given us wings.”
“What about you, Evanna?” Harkat asked. “Have you ever flown?”
“Only on a broomstick,” she said. I didn’t know if she was joking or not.
“And you, Larten?” Harkat asked.
“Once, long ago, when the Wright brothers were just getting going.” He paused. “It crashed. Luckily, it had not been flying very high, so I was not seriously injured. But these new contraptions, which soar above the clouds … I think not.”
“Afraid?” I smirked.
“Once bitten, twice shy,” he replied.
We were a strange group, no doubt about it. We had almost nothing in common with humans. They were creatures of the technological age, but we belonged to the past – vampires knew nothing of computers, satellite dishes, microwave ovens, or any other modern conveniences; we travelled by foot most of the time, had simple tastes and pleasures, and hunted as animals. Where humans sent aeroplanes to wage their wars and fought by pressing buttons, we battled with swords and our hands. Vampires and humans might share the same planet, but we lived in different worlds.
I awoke one afternoon to the sound of Harkat’s moans. He was having another nightmare and was tossing feverishly about on the grassy bank where he’d fallen asleep. I leant over to wake him. “Hold,” Evanna said. The witch was in the lower branches of a tree, observing Harkat with unseemly interest. A squirrel was exploring her head of long hair, and another was chewing on the ropes she used as clothes.
“He’s having a nightmare,” I said.
“He has them often?”
“Almost every time he sleeps. I’m supposed to wake him if I hear him having one.” I bent to shake him awake.
“Hold,” Evanna said again, jumping down. She shuffled over and touched the three middle fingers of her right hand to Harkat’s forehead. She closed her eyes and crouched there a minute, then opened them and let go. “Dragons,” she said. “Bad dreams. His time of insight is upon him. Did Desmond say nothing about revealing who Harkat was in his previous life?”
“Yes, but Harkat chose to come with us, to search for the Vampaneze Lord.”
“Noble but foolish,” she mused.
“If you told him who he was, would that ease his nightmares?”
“No. He must learn the truth himself. I’d make things worse if I meddled. But there is a way to temporarily ease his pain.”
“How?” I asked.
“One who speaks the language