Vampire Destiny Trilogy

Evanna sighed deeply. “Time is like a jigsaw puzzle,” she said. “Imagine a giant box full of billions of pieces of millions of puzzles—that is the future. Beside it lies a huge board, partially filled with bits of the overall puzzle—that is the past. Those in the present reach blindly into the box of the future every time they have a decision to make, draw a piece of the puzzle out and slot it into place on the board. Once a piece has been added, it influences the final shape and design of the puzzle, and it’s useless trying to fathom what the puzzle would have looked like if a different piece had been picked.” She paused. “Unless you’re Desmond Tiny. He spends most of his time considering the puzzle and contemplating alternative patterns.”

I thought about that for a long time before speaking again. “What you’re saying is that there’s no point worrying about the past, because we can’t change it?”

“Basically,” she nodded, then leant over, one green eye shining brightly, one brown eye gleaming dully. “A mortal can drive himself mad thinking about the nature of the universal puzzle. Concern yourself only with the problems of the present and you will get along fine.”

It was an odd conversation, one I returned to often, not just that night when I was trying to sleep, but during the quieter moments of the testing weeks ahead.

Eleven days after Evanna had rescued me from the jaws of the alligator, we came to the edge of an immense lake. At first I thought it was a sea – I couldn’t see to the far side – but when I tested the water, I found it fresh, although very bitter.

“This is where I’ll leave you,” Evanna said, gazing out over the dark blue water, then up into the cloud-filled sky. The weather had changed during the course of our journey—clouds and rain were now the norm.

“What’s the lake called?” Harkat asked, hoping – like me – that this was the Lake of Souls, though we both knew in our hearts that it wasn’t.

“It has no name,” Evanna said. “It’s a relatively new formation, and the sentient beings of this planet have yet to discover it.”

“You mean there are people here?” Harkat asked sharply.

“Yes,” the witch replied.

“Why haven’t we seen any?” I asked.

“This is a large planet,” Evanna said, “but people are few. You may run into some before your adventure draws to a close, but don’t get sidetracked—you’re here to discover the truth about Harkat, not cavort with the natives. Now, would you like a hand making a raft, or would you rather do it yourselves?”

“What will we need a raft for?” I asked.

Evanna pointed to the lake. “Three guesses, genius.”

“Can’t we track around it?” Harkat enquired.

“You can, but I don’t advise it.”

We sighed—when Evanna said something like that, we knew we hadn’t much of a choice. “What will we build it from?” I asked. “It’s been a few days since I spotted any trees.”

“We’re close to the wreck of a boat,” Evanna said, heading off to the left. “We can strip it bare and use the wood.”

“I thought you said none of the … people here had found this lake,” Harkat said, but if the witch heard the query, she paid it no heed.

About a kilometre up the pebbly lake shore, we found the bleached remains of a small wooden boat. The first planks we pulled off were soggy and rotten, but there were stronger planks underneath. We stacked them in a tidy pile, sorting them by length.

“How are we going to bind them?” I asked when we were ready to begin construction. “There aren’t any nails.” I wiped rain from my forehead—it had been drizzling steadily for the last hour.

“The builder of the boat used mud to bind the planks,” Evanna said. “He had no rope or nails, and no intention of sailing the boat—he merely built it to keep himself busy.”

“Mud won’t keep a raft together once we … get out on the water,” Harkat noted dubiously.

“Indeed,” Evanna smirked. “That’s why we are going to tie the planks tightly with topes.” The squat witch began unwrapping the ropes she kept knotted around her body.

“Do you want us to look away?” I asked.

“No need,” she laughed. “I don’t plan to strip myself bare!”

The witch reeled off an incredibly long line of rope, dozens of metres in length, yet the ropes around her body didn’t diminish, and she was as discreetly covered when she stopped as she’d been at the outset. “There!” she grunted. “That should suffice.”

We spent the rest of the day constructing the raft, Evanna acting as the designer, performing magical shortcuts when our backs were turned, making our job a lot quicker and easier than it should have been. It wasn’t a large raft when finished, two and a half metres long by two wide, but we could both fit on it and lie down in comfort. Evanna wouldn’t tell us how wide the lake was, but said we’d have to sail due south and sleep on the raft a few nights at least. The raft floated nicely when we tested it and although we had no sails, we fashioned oars out of leftover planks.

“You should be fine now,” Evanna said. “You won’t be able to light a fire, but fish swim close to the surface of the lake. Catch and eat them raw. And the water is unpleasant but safe to drink.”

“Evanna …” I began, then coughed with embarrassment.

“What is it, Darren?” the witch asked.

“The gelatinous globes,” I muttered. “Will you tell us what they’re for?”

“No,” she said. “And that’s not what you wanted to ask. Out with it, please. What’s bothering you?”

“Blood,” I sighed. “It’s been ages since I last drank human blood. I’m feeling the side effects—I’ve lost a lot of my sharpness and strength. If I carry on like this, I’ll die. I was wondering if I could drink from you?”

Evanna smiled regretfully. “I would gladly let you drink from me, but I’m not human and my blood’s not fit for consumption—you’d feel a lot worse afterwards! But don’t worry. If the fates are kind, you’ll find a feeding source shortly. If they’re not,” she added darkly, “you’ll have greater problems to worry about.

“Now,” the witch said, stepping away from the raft, “I must leave you. The sooner you set off, the sooner you’ll arrive at the other side. I’ve just this to say – I’ve saved it until now because I had to – and then I’ll depart. I can’t tell you what the future has in store, but I can offer this advice—to fish in the Lake of Souls, you must borrow a net which has been used to trawl for the dead. And to access the Lake, you’ll need the holy liquid from the Temple of the Grotesque.”

“Temple of the Grotesque?” Harkat and I immediately asked together.

“Sorry,” Evanna grunted. “I can tell you that much, but nothing else.” Waving to us, the witch said, “Luck, Darren Shan. Luck, Harkat Mulds.” And then, before we could reply, she darted away, moving with magical speed, disappearing out of sight within seconds into the gloom of the coming night.

Harkat and I stared at one another silently, then turned and manoeuvred our meagre stash of possessions on to the raft. We divided the gelatinous globes into three piles: one for Harkat, one for me and one in a scrap of cloth tied to the raft, then set off in the gathering darkness across the cold, still water of the nameless lake.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WE ROWED for most of the night, in what we hoped was a straight line (there seemed to be no currents to drag us off course), rested for a few hours either side of dawn, then began rowing again, this time navigating south by the position of the sun. By the third day we were bored out of our skulls. There was nothing to do on the calm, open lake, and no change in scenery—dark blue underneath, mostly unbroken grey overhead. Fishing distracted us for short periods each day, but the fish were plentiful and easy to catch, and soon it was back to the rowing and resting.

To keep ourselves amused, we invented games using the teeth Harkat had pulled from the dead panther. There weren’t many word games we could play with such a small complement of letters, but by giving each letter a number, we were able to pretend the teeth were dice and indulge in simple gambling games. We didn’t have anything of value to bet, so we used the bones of the fish we caught as gambling chips, and made believe they were worth vast amounts of money.

During a rest period, as Harkat was cleaning the teeth – taking his time, to stretch the job out – he picked up a long incisor, the one marked by a K, and frowned. “This is hollow,” he said, holding it up and peering through it. Putting it to his wide mouth, he blew through it, held it up again, then passed it to me.

I studied the tooth against the grey light of the sky, squinting to see better. “It’s very smooth,” I noted. “And it goes from being wide at the top to narrow at the tip.”

“It’s almost as though … a hole has been bored through it,” Harkat said.

“How, and what for?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” Harkat said. “But it’s the only one … like that.”

“Maybe an insect did it,” I suggested. “A parasite which burrows into an animal’s teeth and gnaws its way upwards, feeding on the material inside.”

Harkat stared at me for a moment, then opened his mouth as wide as he could and gurgled, “Check my teeth quick!”

“Mine first!” I yelped, anxiously probing my teeth with my tongue.

“Your teeth are tougher … than mine,” he said. “I’m more vulnerable.”

Since that was true, I leant forward to examine Harkat’s sharp grey teeth. I studied them thoroughly, but there was no sign that any had been invaded. Harkat checked mine next, but I drew a clean bill of health too. We relaxed after that – though we did a lot of prodding and jabbing with our tongues over the next few hours! – and Harkat returned to cleaning the teeth, keeping the tooth with the hole to one side, slightly away from the others.

That fourth night, as we slept after many hours of rowing, huddled together in the middle of the raft, we were woken by a thunderous flapping sound overhead. We bolted out of our sleep and sat up straight, covering our ears to drown out the noise. The sound was like nothing I’d heard before, impossibly heavy, as though a giant was beating clean his bed sheets. It was accompanied by strong, cool gusts of wind which set the water rippling and our raft rocking. It was a dark night with no break in the clouds, and we couldn’t see what was making the noise.

“What is it?” I whispered. Harkat couldn’t hear my whisper over the noise, so I repeated myself, but not too loudly, for fear of giving our position away to whatever was above.

“No idea,” Harkat replied, “but there’s something … familiar about it. I’ve heard it before … but I can’t remember where.”

The flapping sounds died away as whatever it was moved on, the water calmed and our raft steadied, leaving us shaken but unharmed. When we discussed it later, we reasoned it must have been some huge breed of bird. But in my gut, I sensed that wasn’t the answer, and by Harkat’s troubled expression and inability to fall back asleep, I was sure he sensed it too.

We rowed quicker than usual in the morning, saying little about the sounds we’d heard the night before, but gazing up often at the sky. Neither of us could explain why the noise had so alarmed us—we just felt that we’d be in big trouble if the creature came again, by the light of day.

We spent so much time staring up at the clouds that it wasn’t until early afternoon, during a brief rest period, that we looked ahead and realized we were within sight of land. “How far do you think … it is?” Harkat asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Four or five kilometres?” The land was low-lying, but there were mountains further on, tall grey peaks which blended with the clouds, which was why we hadn’t noticed them before.

“We can be there soon if we … row hard,” Harkat noted.

“So let’s row,” I grunted, and we set to our task with renewed vigour. Harkat was able to row faster than me – my strength was failing rapidly as a result of not having any human blood to drink – but I stuck my head down and pushed my muscles to their full capacity. We were both eager to make the safety of land, where at least we could find a bush to hide under if we were attacked.

We’d covered about half the distance when the air overhead reverberated with the same heavy flapping sounds that had interrupted our slumber. Gusts of wind cut up the water around us. Pausing, we looked up and spotted something hovering far above. It seemed small, but that was because it was a long way up.

“What the hell is it?” I gasped.

Harkat shook his head in answer. “It must be immense,” he muttered, “for its wings to create … this much disturbance from that high up.”

“Do you think it’s spotted us?” I asked.

“It wouldn’t be hovering there otherwise,” Harkat said.

The flapping sound and accompanying wind stopped and the figure swooped towards us with frightening speed, becoming larger by the second. I thought it meant to torpedo us, but it pulled out of its dive ten or so metres above the raft. Slowing its descent, it unfurled gigantic wings and flapped to keep itself steady. The sound was ear shattering.

“Is that … what I … think it is?” I roared, clinging to the raft as waves broke over us, eyes bulging out of my head, unable to believe that this monster was real. I wished with all my heart that Harkat would tell me I was hallucinating.

“Yes!” Harkat shouted, shattering my wishes. “I knew I … recognized it!” The Little Person crawled to the edge of the raft to gaze at the magnificent but terrifying creature of myth. He was petrified, like me, but there was also an excited gleam in his green eyes. “I’ve seen it before … in my nightmares,” he croaked, his voice only barely audible over the flapping of the extended wings. “It’s a dragon!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I’D NEVER in my life seen anything as wondrous as this dragon, and even though I was struck numb with fear, I found myself admiring it, unable to react to the threat it posed. Though it was impossible to accurately judge its measurements, its wingspan had to be twenty metres. The wings were a patchy light green colour, thick where they connected to its body, but thin at the tips.

The dragon’s body was seven or eight metres from snout to the tip of its tail. It put me in mind of a snake’s tapered body – it was scaled – though it had a round bulging chest which angled back towards the tail. Its scales were a dull red and gold colour underneath. From what I could see of the dragon’s back, it was dark green on top, with red flecks. It had a pair of long forelegs, ending in sharp claws, and two shorter limbs about a quarter of the way from the end of its body.

Its head was more like an alligator’s than a snake’s, long and flat, with two yellow eyes protruding from its crown, large nostrils, and a flexible lower jaw which looked like it could open wide to consume large animals. Its face was a dark purple colour and its ears were surprisingly small, pointed and set close to its eyes. It had no teeth that I could see, but the gums of its jaws looked hard and sharp. It had a long, forked tongue which flicked lazily between its lips as it hung in the air and gazed upon us.

The dragon observed us for a few more seconds, wings beating steadily, claws flexing, pupils opening and dilating. Then, tucking in its wings, it dived sharply, forelegs stretched, talons exposed, mouth closed—aiming for the raft!

With startled yells, Harkat and I snapped to attention and threw ourselves flat. The dragon screamed by overhead. One of its claws connected with my left shoulder and sent me crashing into Harkat.

As we pushed ourselves apart, I sat up, rubbing my bruised shoulder, and saw the dragon turn smoothly in the air, reverse and begin another dive. This time, instead of throwing himself on to the raft, Harkat grabbed his oar and thrust it up at the dragon, roaring a challenge at the monster. The dragon screeched angrily in reply – a high-pitched sound – and swerved away.

“Get up!” Harkat yelled at me. As I struggled to my feet, he thrust my oar into my hands, got to his knees and rowed desperately. “You keep it off … if you can,” he gasped. “I’ll try and get us … to shore. Our only hope is to … make land and hope we can … hide.”

Holding the oar up was agony, but I ignored the pain in my shoulder and kept the piece of wood aloft, pointed at the dragon like a spear, silently willing Harkat to row even quicker. Above, the dragon circled, yellow eyes focused on the raft, occasionally screeching.

“It’s assessing us,” I muttered.

“What?” Harkat grunted.

“It’s making a study. Noting our speed, analyzing our strengths, calculating our weaknesses.” I lowered my oar. “Stop rowing.”

“Are you crazy?” Harkat shouted.

“We’ll never make it,” I said calmly. “We’re too far out. We’d best save our strength for fighting.”

“How the hell do you think … we’re going to fight a dragon?” Harkat snorted.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “But we can’t out-pace it, so we might as well be fresh when it attacks.”

Harkat stopped rowing and stood beside me, staring at the dragon with his unblinking green eyes. “Maybe it won’t attack,” he said with hollow optimism.

“It’s a predator,” I replied, “like the panther and alligators. It’s not a question of if it will attack, but when.”

Harkat looked from the dragon to the shore and licked his lips. “What if we swam? We wouldn’t be as visible … in the water. That might make it harder … for it to grab us.”

“True,” I agreed, “but we wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves. We won’t jump unless we have to. In the meantime, let’s sharpen our oars.” Drawing one of my knives, I whittled away at the end of my oar. Harkat did the same with his. Within seconds of us setting to work on the oars, the dragon – perhaps sensing our intent—attacked, cutting short our preparations.

My immediate instinct was to duck, but I stood firm beside Harkat and we both raised our oars defensively. The dragon didn’t pull out of its dive this time, but swooped even lower than before and barrelled into us with its hard head and shoulders, wings tucked in tight. We jabbed at it with our oars, but they snapped off its hard scales without causing the slightest bit of damage.

The dragon collided with the raft. The force of the blow sent us flying clear of the raft, deep under water. I came up gasping and thrashing wildly. Harkat was several metres adrift of me, also winded and bruised from the encounter. “Got to … make the … raft!” he shouted.

“No use!” I cried, pointing at the wreckage of the raft, which had been shattered to splinters. The dragon was hovering overhead, almost perpendicular to the sea, tail curled up into its scaly body. I swam to where Harkat was bobbing up and down, and we gazed up fearfully at the flying lizard.

“What’s it waiting for?” Harkat wheezed. “We’re at its mercy. Why isn’t it finishing … us off?”

“It seems to be puffing itself up,” I noted, as the dragon closed its mouth and breathed in through its widening nostrils. “It’s almost as though it’s getting ready to…” I stopped, my face whitening. “Charna’s guts!”

“What?” Harkat snapped.

“Have you forgotten what dragons are famous for?”

Harkat stared at me, clueless, then clicked to it. “They breathe fire!”

Our eyes locked on the dragon’s chest, which was expanding steadily. “Watch it closely,” I said, grabbing hold of Harkat’s robes. “When I say ‘dive’, power for the bottom of the lake as hard as you can, and stay under till your breath runs out.”

“It’ll still be here … when we come up,” Harkat said dejectedly.

“Probably,” I agreed, “but if we’re lucky, it only has one burst of fire in it.”

“What are you basing that … judgement on?” Harkat asked.

“Nothing.” I grinned shakily. “I’m just hoping.”

There was no time for further exchanges. Above us, the dragon’s tail curled down and back, and its head swung towards us. I waited until what I deemed the last possible instant, then, “Dive!” I screamed, and together Harkat and I rolled over and dived down deep, thrusting hard with our hands and feet.

As we descended, the water around us lit up redly. It then grew warm and began to bubble. Kicking even harder, we swam clear of the danger zone, down into the darkness of the deeper water. Once safe, we stopped and looked up. The lake had darkened again and we couldn’t see the dragon. Clinging tight to each other, we held our mouths shut, waiting for as long as our breath would hold.

As we floated in silence and fear, there was a huge splash and the dragon came slicing through the water towards us. There was no time to evade it. Before we knew what was happening, the dragon hooked us with its claws, dragged us deeper down into the lake, then turned and struck for the surface.

Bursting free of the water, the dragon screeched triumphantly and rose into the air, Harkat trapped in one of its claws, me in the other. It had hold of my left arm, gripping me tightly, and I couldn’t wriggle free.

“Darren!” Harkat screamed as we rose higher into the sky and surged towards shore. “Can you … get loose?”

“No!” I shouted. “You?”

“I think so! It only has hold … of my robes.”

“Then free yourself!” I yelled.

“But what about –”

“Never mind me! Get free while you can!”

Harkat cursed bitterly, then grabbed hold of the back of his robes where the dragon had caught him, and tugged sharply. I didn’t hear the ripping over the sound of the dragon’s wings, but suddenly Harkat was free and falling, landing with an almighty splash in the lake beneath.

The dragon hissed with frustration and circled around, obviously meaning to go after Harkat again. We were almost over land now, at the very edge of the lake. “Stop!” I roared helplessly at the dragon. “Leave him alone!” To my astonishment, the dragon paused when I shouted, and gazed at me with a strange expression in its giant yellow eyes. “Leave him,” I muttered desperately. Then, giving way to blind panic, I screamed at the beast, “Let me go, you son of a –”

Before I could complete the curse, the dragon’s claws unexpectedly retracted, and suddenly I was dropping through the sky like a stone. I had just enough time to worry about whether I was over the lake or over land. Then I hit hard – earth or water? – and the world went black.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WHEN MY eyes opened, I was lying in a hammock. I thought I was back in the Cirque Du Freak. I looked over to tell Harkat about a weird dream I’d had – full of black panthers, giant toads and dragons – but when I did, I saw that I was in a poorly built shack. There was a strange man standing close by, studying me with beady eyes and stroking a long curved knife.

“Who are you?” I shouted, falling out of the hammock. “Where am I?”

“Easy,” the man chuckled, laying his knife aside. “Sorry t’ trouble ye, young ’un. I was watching over ye while ye slept. We get an awful lot o’ crabs and scorpions here. I didn’t want ’em getting stuck into ye while ye was recovering. Harkat!” he bellowed. “Yer wee friend’s awake!”

The door to the shack swung open and Harkat stepped in. The three scars from his fight with the panther were as prominent as usual, but he didn’t look any the worse for wear otherwise. “Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” he grinned. “You’ve been out for … almost two days.”

“Where are we?” I asked, standing shakily. “And who’s this?”

“Spits Abrams,” the stranger introduced himself, stepping forward into the beam of sunlight shining through a large hole in the roof. He was a broad, bearded man of medium height, with small eyes and bushy eyebrows. His black hair was long and curly, tied back with coloured pieces of string. He wore a faded brown jacket and trousers, a dirty white vest, and knee-high black boots. He was smiling and I could see that he was missing several teeth, while the others were discoloured and jagged. “Spits Abrams,” he said again, sticking out a hand. “Pleased t’ meet ye.”