Vampire Rites Trilogy
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“It was foaming at the mouth,” I said. “I think it had rabies.”
“We shall soon see.” The vampire used his sharp nails to cut open the bear’s belly. He stuck his nose close to the cut and sniffed the blood that was oozing out. After a few seconds he pulled a face and stood up.
“Well?” Gavner asked.
“The bear was mad,” Mr Crepsley said, “but not with rabies – it had consumed the blood of a vampaneze!”
“How?” I gasped.
“I am not sure,” Mr Crepsley replied, then glanced up at the sky. “We have time before dawn. We will trace this bear’s trail and perhaps learn more along the way.”
“What about the dead Little Person?” Gavner asked. “Should we bury him?”
“Do you want to bury him … Harkat?” Mr Crepsley asked, echoing my earlier question.
Harkat Mulds shook his head. “Not really.”
“Then leave him,” the vampire snapped. “Scavengers and birds will pick his bones clean. We do not have time to waste.”
The path of the bear was easy to follow – even an untrained tracker like me could have traced it by the deep footprints and broken twigs.
Night was drawing to a close as we pulled up at a small mound of stones and found what had driven the bear mad. Half-buried beneath the stones was a purple body with a red head of hair – a vampaneze!
“By the way his skull is crushed, he must have died in a fall,” Mr Crepsley said, examining the dead man. “The bear found him after he was buried and dug him up. See the chunks that have been bitten out of him?” He pointed to the gaping holes in the vampaneze’s belly. “That is what drove it mad – the blood of vampaneze and vampires is poisonous. Had you not killed it, it would have died in another night or two anyway.”
“So that’s where our mystery vampaneze was,” Gavner grunted. “No wonder we couldn’t find him.”
“We don’t have to worry about him any more, do we?” I sighed happily.
“Quite the contrary,” Mr Crepsley snapped. “We have more reason to worry now than before.”
“Why?” I asked. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Mr Crepsley agreed, then pointed to the stones which had been laid over the vampaneze. “But who buried him?”
We made camp at the base of a cliff, using branches and leaves to create a shelter where the vampires could sleep, safe from the sun. Once they were inside, Harkat and me sat by the entrance and the Little Person told his incredible story. The wolves had gone off hunting, except for Rudi, who curled up in my lap and dozed.
“My memories … are not … complete,” said Harkat. Speaking wasn’t easy for him and he had to pause for breath often. “Much is … clouded. I will tell … you what … I remember. First – I am a … ghost.”
Our jaws dropped.
“A ghost!” Mr Crepsley shouted. “Absurd!”
“Absolutely,” Gavner agreed with a grin. “Vampires don’t believe in crazy things like ghosts, do we, Larten?”
Before Mr Crepsley could reply, Harkat corrected himself. “What I should … have said … is, I … was a ghost. All … Little People … were ghosts. Until … they agreed terms … with Mr Tiny.”
“I don’t understand,” Gavner said. “Agree what terms? How?”
“Mr Tiny can … talk with … dead,” Harkat explained. “I did not … leave Earth … when I died. Soul … could not. I was … stuck. Mr Tiny found … me. Said he’d give … me a … body, so I … could live again. In return … I’d serve him, as a … Little Person.”
According to Harkat, each of the Little People had struck a deal with Mr Tiny, and each deal was different. They didn’t have to serve him forever. Sooner or later, they would be freed, some to live on in their grey, short bodies, some to be reborn, others to move on to Heaven or Paradise or wherever it is that dead souls go.
“Mr Tiny has that much power?” Mr Crepsley asked.
Harkat nodded.
“What deal did you strike with him?” I asked curiously.
“I do not … know,” he said. “I cannot … remember.”
There were lots of things he couldn’t remember. He didn’t know who he’d been when he was alive, when or where he’d lived, or how long he’d been dead. He didn’t even know if he’d been a man or a woman! The Little People were genderless, which meant they were neither male nor female.
“So how do we refer to you?” Gavner asked. “He? She? It?”
“He will … do fine,” Harkat said.
Their blue robes and hoods were for show. Their masks, on the other hand, were necessary, and they carried several spares, some stitched under their skin for extra safe-keeping! Air was lethal to them – if they breathed normal air for ten or twelve hours, they’d die. There were chemicals in their masks which purified the air.
“How can you die if you’re already dead?” I asked, confused.
“My body can … die, like anyone … else’s. If it does … my soul goes … back to the way … it was.”
“Could you agree another contract with Mr Tiny?” Mr Crepsley asked.
Harkat shook his head. “Not sure. But don’t … think so. One shot at … extra life is … all I think … we get.”
The Little People could read each other’s minds. That’s why they never spoke. He wasn’t sure if the others were able to speak or not. When asked why he’d never spoken before, he pulled a crooked grin and said he’d never had cause to.
“But there must be a reason,” Mr Crepsley pressed. “In all the hundreds of years that we have known them, no Little Person has ever spoken, even when dying or in great pain. Why have you broken that long silence? And why?”
Harkat hesitated. “I have a … message,” he finally said. “Mr Tiny … gave me it … to give to … Vampire Princes. So I’d … have had to speak … soon anyway.”
“A message?” Mr Crepsley leant forward intently, but pulled back into the shadows of the shelter when the sun hit him. “What sort of message?”
“It is for … Princes,” Harkat said. “I do not … think I should … tell you.”
“Go on, Harkat,” I urged him. “We won’t tell them you told us. You can trust us.”
“You will … not tell?” he asked Mr Crepsley and Gavner.
“My lips are sealed,” Gavner promised.
Mr Crepsley was slower to make his pledge, but finally nodded.
Harkat took a deep, shuddering breath. “Mr Tiny told … me to tell … Princes that the … night of the … Vampaneze Lord … is at hand. That is … all.”
“The night of the Vampaneze Lord is at hand?” I repeated. “What kind of a message is that?”
“I do not … know what … it means,” Harkat said “I’m just … the messenger.”
“Gavner, do you –” I started to ask, but stopped when I saw the expressions of the vampires. Though Harkat’s message meant nothing to me, it obviously meant a great deal to them. Their faces were even paler than usual, and they were trembling with fear. In fact, they couldn’t have looked more terrified if they’d been staked to the ground out in the open and left for the sun to rise!
CHAPTER TEN
MR CREPSLEY and Gavner wouldn’t explain the meaning of Harkat’s message straightaway – they were too stunned to speak – and the story only trickled out over the next three or four nights, most of it coming from Gavner Purl.
It had to do with something Mr Tiny told the vampires hundreds of years ago, when the vampaneze broke away. Once the fighting had died down, he’d visited the Princes at Vampire Mountain and told them that the vampaneze were not hierarchically structured (Mr Crepsley’s phrase), which meant there were no Vampaneze Generals or Princes. Nobody gave orders or bossed the others about.
“That was one of the reasons they broke away,” Gavner said. “They didn’t like the way things worked with vampires. They thought it was unfair that ordinary vampires had to answer to the Generals, and the Generals to the Princes.”
Lowering his voice so that Mr Crepsley couldn’t hear, he said, “To be honest, I agree with some of that. There is room for change. The vampire system has worked for hundreds of years, but that doesn’t mean it’s perfect.”
“Are you saying you’d rather be a vampaneze?” I asked, shocked.
“Of course not!” he laughed. “They kill, and allow mad vampaneze like Murlough to run around and do as they please. It’s far better to be a vampire. But that doesn’t mean that some of their ideas aren’t worth taking on board.
“Not flitting on the way to Vampire Mountain, for example – that’s a ridiculous rule, but it can only be changed by the Princes, who don’t have to change anything they don’t want to, regardless of what the rest of us think. Generals have to do everything the Princes say, and ordinary vampires have to do everything Generals say.”
Though the vampaneze didn’t believe in leaders, Mr Tiny said that one night a champion would step forward. He would be known as the Vampaneze Lord and the vampaneze would follow him blindly and do everything he said.
“What’s so bad about that?” I asked.
“Wait till you hear the next bit,” Gavner said gravely. Apparently, not long after the Vampaneze Lord came to power, he would lead the vampaneze into war against the vampires. It was a war, Mr Tiny warned, that the vampires couldn’t win. They would be wiped out.
“Is that true?” I asked, appalled.
Gavner shrugged. “We’ve been asking ourselves that for seven hundred years. Nobody doubts Mr Tiny’s powers – he’s proved before that he can see into the future – but sometimes he tells lies. He’s an evil little worm.”
“Why didn’t you go after the vampaneze and kill them all?” I asked.
“Mr Tiny said that some vampaneze would survive, and the Vampaneze Lord would come as promised. Besides, war with the vampaneze was exacting too heavy a toll. Humans were hunting us down and might have made an end of us. It was best to declare a truce and let matters lie.”
“Is there no way the vampires could beat the vampaneze?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Gavner replied, scratching his head. “There are more vampires than vampaneze, and we’re as strong as they are, so I can’t see why we shouldn’t be able to get the better of them. But Mr Tiny said numbers wouldn’t matter.
“There’s one hope,” he added. “The Stone of Blood.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see when we get to Vampire Mountain. It’s a magic icon, sacred to us. Mr Tiny said that if we prevented it from falling into the hands of the vampaneze, one night, long after the battle has been fought and lost, there’s a chance that vampires might rise from the ashes and prosper again.”
“How?” I asked, frowning.
Gavner smiled. “That question has puzzled vampires for as long as it’s been asked. Let me know if you figure it out,” he said with a wink, and drew the conversation to a troubling close.
A week later, we arrived at Vampire Mountain.
It wasn’t the highest mountain in the region, but it was steep and rocky, and looked like it would be almost impossible to climb. “Where’s the palace?” I asked, squinting up at the snowy peak, which seemed to point directly at the three-quarter moon overhead.
“Palace?” Mr Crepsley replied.
“Where the Vampire Princes live.” Mr Crepsley and Gavner burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” I snapped.
“How long do you think we would escape detection if we built a palace on the side of a mountain?” Mr Crepsley asked.
“Then where…?” Understanding dawned. “It’s inside the mountain!”
“Of course,” Gavner smiled. “The mountain’s a giant hive of caves and chambers. Everything a vampire could wish for is stored within – coffins, vats of human blood, food and wine. The only time you see vampires on the outside is when they’re arriving or departing or going to hunt.”
“How do we get in?” I asked.
Mr Crepsley tapped the side of his nose. “Watch and see.”
We walked around the rocky base of the mountain. Mr Crepsley and Gavner were full of excitement, though only Gavner let it show – the older vampire acted as dryly as ever, and it was only when he thought nobody was looking that he’d grin to himself and rub his hands together in anticipation.
We reached a stream which was six or seven metres wide. The water flowed swiftly through it and gushed away down to the flat plains beyond. While we were working our way upstream, a lone wolf appeared in the near distance and howled. Streak and the other wolves came to an immediate stop. Streak’s ears pricked up, he listened a moment, then howled back. His tail was wagging when he looked at me.
“He is saying goodbye,” Mr Crepsley informed me, but I’d guessed that already.
“Do they have to go?” I asked.
“This is what they came for – to meet others of their kind. It would be cruel to ask them to stay with us.”
I nodded glumly and reached down to scratch Streak’s ears. “Nice knowing you, Streak,” I said. Then I patted Rudi. “I’ll miss you, you miserable little runt.”
The adult wolves started away. Rudi hesitated, looking from me to the departing wolves. For a second I thought he might choose to stick with me, but then he barked, rubbed his wet nose over the tops of my bare feet, and set off after the others.
“You’ll see him again,” Gavner promised. “We’ll look them up when we leave.”
“Sure,” I sniffed, pretending I wasn’t bothered. “I’ll be OK. They’re just a pack of dumb old wolves. I don’t care.”
“Of course you don’t,” Gavner smiled.
“Come,” Mr Crepsley said, heading upstream. “We cannot stand here all night, pining over a few mangy wolves.” I glared at him and he coughed uncomfortably. “You know,” he added softly, “wolves never forget a face. The cub will remember you even when it is old and grey.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, then turned and resumed walking. Gavner and Harkat fell in behind him. I glanced over my shoulder one last time at the departing wolves, sighed resignedly, then I picked up my bag and followed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WE CROSSED above the opening where the stream came tumbling out of the mountain. The noise was deafening, especially for super-sensitive vampire ears, so we hurried on as quickly as possible. The rocks were slippery and in some spots we had to form a chain. At one extra-icy patch, Gavner and me both slipped. I was in front, holding on to Mr Crepsley, but the force of the fall broke our grip. Luckily, Harkat held on to Gavner and pulled the two of us up.
We reached the mouth of a tunnel a quarter of an hour later. We hadn’t climbed very far up the mountain, but it was a steep drop when I looked down. I was glad we weren’t climbing any higher.
Mr Crepsley entered first. I went in after him. It was dark inside the tunnel. I was going to ask Mr Crepsley if we should stop to set torches, when I realized that the further in we crept, the brighter the tunnel became.
“Where’s the light coming from?” I asked.
“Luminous lichen,” Mr Crepsley replied.
“Is that a tongue-twister or an answer?” I grumbled.
“It’s a form of fungus which gives off light,” Gavner explained. “It grows in certain caves and on the floors of some oceans.”
“Oh, right. Does it grow all over the mountain?”
“Not everywhere. We use torches where it doesn’t.” Ahead of us, Mr Crepsley stopped and cursed. “What’s wrong?” Gavner asked.
“Cave-in,” he sighed. “There is no way through.”
“Does that mean we can’t get in?” I asked, alarmed at the thought of having trekked all this way for nothing, only to have to turn back at the very end.
“There are other ways,” Gavner said. “The mountain’s riddled with tunnels. We’ll just have to backtrack and find another.”
“We had better hurry,” Mr Crepsley said. “Dawn is fast approaching.”
We shuffled back the way we’d come, Harkat in the lead this time. Outside, we moved as quickly as we could – which wasn’t very fast, given the treacherous footing – and made it to the mouth of the next tunnel a few minutes after the sun had started to rise. This new tunnel wasn’t as large as the other and the two full-vampires had to walk bent double. Harkat and me just had to duck our heads. The luminous lichen didn’t grow strongly here, though there was enough of it for our extra-sharp eyes to see by.
After a while I noticed that we were sloping downwards instead of up. I asked Gavner about this. “It’s just the way the tunnel goes,” he said. “It’ll lead upwards eventually.”
About half an hour later, we cut up. At one stage the tunnel veered upwards almost vertically and we faced a difficult climb. The walls pressed tightly about us and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one whose mouth dried up with nerves. Shortly after the tunnel levelled out, it opened on to a small cave, where we stopped to rest. I could hear the stream we’d crossed earlier churning along not far beneath our feet.
There were four tunnels leading out of the cave. I asked Gavner how Mr Crepsley knew which to take. “The correct tunnel’s marked,” he said, leading me over to them and pointing to a tiny arrow which had been scratched into the wall at the bottom of one tunnel.
“Where do the others lead?” I asked.
“Dead ends, other tunnels, or up to the Halls.” The Halls were what they called the parts of the mountain where the vampires lived. “Many of the tunnels haven’t been explored and there are no maps. Never wander off by yourself,” he warned. “You could get lost very easily.”
While the others were resting, I checked on Madam Octa, to see if she was hungry. She’d slept through most of the journey – she didn’t like the cold – but woke every now and then to eat. As I was taking the cloth off her cage, I saw a spider creeping towards us. It wasn’t as large as Madam Octa, but it looked dangerous.
“Gavner!” I called, stepping away from the cage.
“What’s wrong?”
“A spider.”
“Oh,” he grinned. “Don’t worry – the mountain’s full of them.”
“Are they poisonous?” I asked, bending down to study the spider, which was examining the cage with great interest.
“No,” he answered. “Their bite’s no worse than a bee sting.”
I removed the cloth, curious to see what Madam Octa would do when she spotted the strange spider. She took no notice of it, just sat where she was, while the other spider crawled over the cage. I knew a lot about spiders – I’d read many books about arachnids and watched wildlife programmes when I was younger – but hadn’t seen any quite like this one before. It was hairier than most, and a curious yellow colour.
Once the spider had departed, I fed Madam Octa a few insects and replaced the cloth: I lay down with the others and napped for a few hours. At one stage I thought I heard children giggling in one of the tunnels. I sat up, ears strained, but the sound didn’t come to me again.
“What’s wrong?” Gavner groaned softly, half-opening an eye.
“Nothing,” I said uncertainly, then asked Gavner if any vampire children lived in the mountain.
“No,” he said, closing his eye. “You’re the only blooded kid, as far as I know.”
“Then I must have been imagining things,” I yawned, and lay down again, though I kept one ear cocked while I dozed.
Later we rose and proceeded further up the mountain, taking the tunnels marked with arrows. After what seemed an age we came to a large wooden door blocking the tunnel. Mr Crepsley made himself presentable, then knocked loudly with his bare knuckles. There was no immediate answer, so he knocked again, then again.
Finally there were sounds of life on the far side of the door and it opened. Torchlight flared from within. It was blinding to us after so long in the tunnels and we shielded our eyes until they’d adjusted.
A lean vampire in dark green clothes emerged and cast an eye over us. He frowned when he saw Harkat and me, and took a firmer grip on the long spear he was holding. I could see others behind him, dressed in green as well, none lacking a weapon.
“Address yourselves to the gate,” the guard barked. The vampires had told me this was how newcomers were greeted.
“I am Larten Crepsley, come to seek Council,” Mr Crepsley said. It was the standard reply.
“I am Gavner Purl, come to seek Council,” Gavner said.
“I am Darren Shan, come to seek Council,” I told the guard.
“I … Harkat Mulds. Come … seek Council,” Harkat wheezed.
“Larten Crepsley is recognized by the gate,” the guard said. “And Gavner Purl is recognized. But these other two…” He pointed his spear at us and shook his head.
“They are our travelling companions,” Mr Crepsley said. “The boy is my assistant, a half-vampire.”
“Do you vouch for him?” the guard asked.
“I do.”
“Then Darren Shan is recognized by the gate.” The tip of his spear pointed firmly at Harkat now. “But this is no vampire. What business has he at Council?”
“His name is Harkat Mulds, He is a Little Person. He –”
“A Little Person!” the guard gasped, lowering his spear. He crouched and made a rude study of Harkat’s face (Harkat had removed his hood soon after we entered the tunnels, the better to see by). “He’s an ugly specimen, isn’t he?” the guard remarked. If he hadn’t been carrying a spear, I’d have ticked him off for speaking so inconsiderately. “I thought the Little People couldn’t speak.”
“We all thought that,” Mr Crepsley said. “But they can. At least, this one can. He has a message for the Princes, to be delivered in person.”
“A message?” The guard scratched his chin with the tip of the spear. “From who?”
“Desmond Tiny,” Mr Crepsley replied.
The guard blanched, stood to attention and said quickly, “The Little Person known as Harkat Mulds is recognized by the gate. The Halls are open to all of you. Enter and fare well.”
He stepped aside and let us pass. Moments later the door closed behind us and our journey to the Halls of Vampire Mountain was at an end.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ONE OF the green-clad guards escorted us to the Hall of Osca Velm, which was a Hall of welcome (most of the Halls were named after famous vampires). This was a small cavern, the walls knobbly and black with the grime and soot of decades. It was warmed and lit by several open fires, the air pleasantly thick with smoke (the smoke slowly exited the cavern through natural cracks and holes in the ceiling). There were several roughly-carved tables and benches where arriving vampires could rest and eat (the legs of the tables had been fashioned from the bones of large animals). There were hand-woven baskets full of shoes on the walls, which newcomers were free to pick from. You could also find out who was in attendance at the Council – a large black stone was set in one of the walls, and the name of every vampire who’d arrived was etched upon it. As we sat at a long wooden table, I saw a vampire climb a ladder and add our names to the list. After Harkat’s, he put in brackets, ‘A Little Person’.
There weren’t many vampires in the quiet, smoky Hall – ourselves, a few more who’d recently arrived, and several green-uniformed guards. A vampire with long hair, wearing no top, came over to us with two round barrels. One was packed to the top with loaves of hard bread, the other was half-full of gristly bits of both raw and cooked meat.
We took as much as we wished to eat and set it down on the table (there were no plates), using our fingers and teeth to break off chunks. The vampire returned with three large jugs, filled with human blood, wine and water. I asked for a mug, but Gavner told me you had to pour straight from the jug. It was difficult – I soaked my chin and chest with water the first time I tried – but it was more fun than drinking out of a cup.
The bread was stale, but the vampire brought bowls of hot broth (the bowls were carved from the skulls of various beasts), and the bread was fine if you tore a piece off and dipped it in the thick, dark broth for a few seconds. “This is great,” I said, munching away at my third slice.
“The best,” Gavner agreed. He was already on his fifth.
“How come you’re not having any broth?” I asked Mr Crepsley, who was eating his bread plain.