Vampire Rites Trilogy

“Don’t be stupid,” Gavner chortled. “You loved it when you didn’t know what it was. Just get it down you and pretend it’s nice fresh chicken soup – you’ll eat a lot worse than bat broth before your stay in Vampire Mountain’s over!”

I pushed the bowl away. “Actually, I feel quite full,” I muttered. “I’ll leave it for now.” I glanced at Harkat, who was mopping up the last of his broth with a thick slice of bread. “You don’t mind eating bats?” I asked.

Harkat shrugged. “I’ve no taste … buds. Food is … all the same … to me.”

“You can’t taste anything?” I asked.

“Bat … dog … mud – no difference. I have no … sense of smell … either. That’s why … no nose.”

“That’s something I meant to ask about,” Gavner said. “If you’re not able to smell without a nose, how can you hear without ears?”

“I have … ears,” Harkat said. “They’re under … skin.” He pointed to two spots on either side of his round green eyes. (He’d left his hood down.)

Gavner leant over the table to examine Harkat’s ears. “I see them!” he exclaimed and we all leaned over to gawk. Harkat didn’t mind – he liked the attention. His ‘ears’ looked like dry dates, barely visible beneath the grey skin.

“You can hear in spite of the skin stretched over them?” Gavner asked.

“Quire well,” Harkat replied. “Not as … good as vampires. But better … than humans.”

“How come you’ve got ears but no nose?” I asked.

“Mr Tiny … didn’t give me … nose. Never asked … why not. Maybe because … of air. Would need … another mask … for nose.”

It was strange to think that Harkat couldn’t smell the musky air of the Hall or taste the bat broth. No wonder the Little People never complained when I brought them rotting, stinking animals that had been dead for ages!

I was about to ask Harkat more about his limited senses when an ancient-looking vampire dressed in red sat down opposite Mr Crepsley and smiled. “I was expecting you weeks ago,” he said. “What took you so long?”

“Seba!” Mr Crepsley roared, and lunged across the table to clasp the older vampire’s shoulders. I was surprised – I’d never seen him behave so warmly towards another person. He was beaming when he let the vampire go. “It has been a long time, old friend.”

“Too long,” the older vampire agreed. “I have often searched for you mentally, in the hope that you were near. When I sensed you coming, I hardly dared believe it.”

The older vampire ran an eye over Harkat and me. He was wrinkled and shrunken with age, but the light of a younger man burned brightly in his eyes. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Larten?” he asked.

“Of course,” Mr Crepsley said. “You know Gavner Purl.”

“Gavner,” the vampire nodded.

“Seba,” Gavner replied.

“This is Harkat Mulds,” Mr Crepsley said.

“A Little Person,” Seba noted. “I have not seen one of those since Mr Tiny visited us when I was a boy. Greetings, Harkat Mulds.”

“Hello,” Harkat replied.

Seba blinked slowly. “He talks?”

“Wait until you hear what he has to say!” Mr Crepsley said sombrely. Then, turning to me, he said, “And this is Darren Shan – my assistant.”

“Greetings, Darren Shan,” Seba smiled at me. He looked at Mr Crepsley strangely. “You, Larten – with an assistant?”

“I know,” Mr Crepsley coughed. “I always said I would never take one.”

“And so young,” Seba murmured. “The Princes will not approve.”

“Most probably not,” Mr Crepsley agreed miserably. Then he shook off his gloom. “Darren, Harkat – this is Seba Nile, the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain. Do not let his age fool you – he is as sly, cunning and quick as any vampire, and will get the better of those who try and best him.”

“As you know from experience,” Seba chuckled. “Do you remember when you set out to steal half a vat of my finest wine and replace it with a lesser vintage?”

“Please,” Mr Crepsley said, looking pained. “I was young and foolish. There is no need to remind me.”

“What happened?” I asked, delighted by the vampire’s discomfort.

“Tell him, Larten,” Seba said, and Mr Crepsley obeyed sullenly, like a child.

“He got to the wine first,” he muttered. “Emptied the vat and replaced the wine with vinegar. I had swallowed half a bottle before I realized. I spent the rest of the night retching.”

“No!” Gavner burst out laughing.

“I was young,” Mr Crepsley growled. “I did not know better.”

“But I taught you, Larten, did I not?” Seba remarked.

“Yes,” Mr Crepsley smiled. “Seba was my tutor. I learned most of what I know at his hands.”

The three vampires got to talking about old times and I sat listening. Most of what they said sailed clean over my head – names of people and places which meant nothing to me – and after a while I sat back and gazed around the cavern, studying the flickering lights of the fires and the shapes the smoke made in the air. I only realized I was dozing off when Mr Crepsley shook me gently and my eyes snapped open.

“The boy is tired,” Seba noted.

“He has never made the journey before,” Mr Crepsley said. “He is not accustomed to such hardship.”

“Come,” Seba said, standing. “I will find rooms for you. He is not the only one who needs to rest. We will talk more tomorrow.”

As the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain, Seba was in charge of the stores and living quarters. It was his job to make sure there was enough food and drink and blood for everyone, and that every vampire had a place to sleep. There were other vampires working for him, but he was the main man. Aside from the Princes, Seba was the most respected vampire in the mountain.

Seba bid me walk beside him as we made our way from the Hall of Osca Velm to our sleeping quarters. He pointed out various Halls as we passed, and told me their names – most of which I couldn’t pronounce, never mind remember – and what they were used for.

“It will take a while to adjust,” he said, noting my dazed gaze. “For the first few nights you may feel lost. But in time you will grow accustomed to the place.”

The network of tunnels connecting the Halls to the sleeping quarters were cold and damp, despite the torches, but the tiny rooms – niches carved out of the rocks – were bright and warm, each lit by a powerful torch. Seba asked if we wanted one big room between us, or if we’d prefer separate quarters.

“Separate,” Mr Crepsley immediately replied. “I had enough of Gavner’s snoring on the trail.”

“Charming!” Gavner huffed.

“Harkat and me don’t mind doubling up, do we?” I said, not liking the idea of being left on my own in such a strange place.

“That’s fine … by me,” Harkat agreed.

All the rooms boasted coffins instead of beds, but when Seba saw my gloomy face, he laughed and said I could have a hammock if I preferred. “I will send one of my staff to you tomorrow,” he promised. “Tell him what you need and he will get it – I look after my guests!”

“Thank you,” I said, glad that I wouldn’t have to sleep in the coffin every day.

Seba started to leave. “Wait,” Mr Crepsley called him back. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh?” Seba smiled.

“Darren,” Mr Crepsley said, “fetch Madam Octa.”

When Seba Nile saw the spider, his breath caught in his throat and he gazed at it as though mesmerized. “Oh, Larten,” he sighed, “what a beauty!” He took the cage from me – holding it tenderly – and opened the door.

“Stop!” I hissed. “Don’t let her out – she’s poisonous!”

Seba only smiled and reached into the cage. “I have never met a spider I have not been able to charm,” he said.

“But –” I began.

“It is all right, Darren,” Mr Crepsley said. “Seba knows what he is doing.”

The old vampire coaxed the spider on to his fingers and lifted her out of the cage. She squatted comfortably in the palm of his hand. Seba bent his face over her and whistled softly. The spider’s legs twitched, and from her intent look, I knew he must be communicating mentally with her.

Seba stopped whistling and Madam Octa crawled up his arm. Upon reaching his shoulder, she nestled up to his chin and relaxed. I couldn’t believe it! I’d always had to whistle continuously – with a flute, not my lips – and concentrate fiercely to keep her from biting me, but with Seba she was completely docile.

“She is marvellous,” Seba said, stroking her. “You must tell me more about her when you have a chance. I thought I knew of all the spiders in existence, but this one is new to me.”

“I thought you would like her,” Mr Crepsley beamed. “That is why I brought her. I wish to make you a present of her.”

“You would part with such a wonderful spider?” Seba asked.

“For you, old friend – anything.”

Seba smiled at Mr Crepsley, then looked at Madam Octa. Sighing regretfully, he shook his head. “I must refuse,” he said. “I am old, and not as sprightly as I used to be. I am kept busy trying to keep up with jobs I once zipped through. I do not have the time to care for such an exotic pet.”

“Are you sure?” Mr Crepsley asked, disappointed.

“I would love to take her but I cannot.” He placed Madam Octa back in her cage and handed it to me. “Only the young have the energy to tend to the needs of spiders of such calibre. Look after her, Darren – she is beautiful and rare.”

“I’ll keep my eye on her,” I promised. I once thought the spider was beautiful too, until she bit my best friend and led to me becoming a half-vampire.

“Now,” Seba said, “I must go. You are not the only new arrivals. Until we meet again – fare well.”

There were no doors on the tiny rooms. Mr Crepsley and Gavner bid us goodnight, before heading for their coffins. Harkat and me stepped into our room and studied our two caskets.

“I don’t think you’ll fit in that,” I said.

“That is … OK. I can sleep … on floor.”

“In that case, see you in the morning.” I glanced around the cave. “Or will it be night? Impossible to tell in here.”

I didn’t like getting into the coffin but took comfort in the fact that it was for one time only. Lying back, I left the lid open and stared up at the rocky grey ceiling. I thought that with the excitement of having arrived at Vampire Mountain, it’d take ages to fall asleep, but within minutes I’d dropped off and slept as soundly as I would have in my hammock back at the Cirque Du Freak.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HARKAT WAS standing by his coffin when I awoke, his green eyes wide open. I stretched and said good morning. There was a brief pause, then he shook his head and looked at me. “Good morning,” he replied.

“Been awake long?” I asked.

“Just woke … now. When you … spoke to me. Fell asleep … standing up.”

I frowned. “But your eyes were open.”

He nodded. “Always open. No lids … or lashes. Can’t shut them.”

The more I learned about Harkat, the stranger he got! “Does that mean you can see things while you’re asleep?”

“Yes, but I … take no … notice of them.”

Gavner appeared at the entrance to our room. “Rise and shine, boys,” he boomed. “Night’s wearing on. There’s work to be done. Anybody for bat broth?”

I asked to use the toilet before we went to eat. Gavner led me to a small door with the letters WC carved into it. “What does that stand for?” I asked.

“Water Closet,” he informed me, then added, “Don’t fall in!”

I thought that was a joke, but when I stepped inside, I realized it was a genuine warning – there was no toilet in the water closet, just a round hole in the ground which led to a gurgling mountain stream. I stared down the hole – it wasn’t large enough for an adult to fall through, but somebody my size might just fit – and shivered when I saw dark, gushing water at the bottom. I didn’t like the idea of squatting over the hole, but there was no other option, so I got on with it.

“Are all the toilets like that?” I asked when I came out.

“Yes,” Gavner laughed. “It’s the easiest way to get rid of the waste. There are several big streams leading out of the mountain and the toilets are built over them. The streams wash everything away.”

Gavner led Harkat and me to the Hall of Khledon Lurt. Seba Nile had pointed out the Hall to me the day before and said it was where meals were served. He also told me a bit about Khledon Lurt; he had been a General of great standing, who’d died saving other vampires in the fight with the vampaneze, when they broke away.

Vampires loved telling tales of their ancestors. They kept few written records, opting instead to keep their history alive by word of mouth, passing on stories and legends around fires or over tables, one generation to another.

Red drapes hung from the ceiling, covering the walls, and there was a large statue of Khledon Lurt at the centre of the Hall. (Like most of the mountain’s sculptures, it had been carved from the bones of animals.) The Hall was lit by strong torches, and it was nearly full when we arrived. Gavner, Harkat and me sat at a table with Mr Crepsley, Seba Nile and a load of vampires I didn’t know. Talk was loud and raucous. Much of it had to do with fighting and feats of endurance.

This was my first good look at a crowd of vampires and I spent more time gazing around than I did eating. They didn’t look that different to humans, except many were scarred from battle and hard living, and not a single one – it goes without saying! – was sun-tanned.

They were a smelly lot. They didn’t use deodorants, though a few had strings of wild flowers or naturally scented herbs around their necks and wrists. Though vampires took care to wash in the world of humans – a foul stench could lead a vampire hunter to his prey – here in the mountain hardly any of them bothered with such luxuries. With all the soot and dirt of the Halls, they didn’t see the point – it was impossible to keep clean.

I noticed virtually no women. After lengthy scanning, I spotted one sitting at a table in a corner, and another serving food. Otherwise, the vampires were all men. There were very few old people either; Seba seemed to be the oldest vampire present. I asked him about this.

“Very few vampires live to be a ripe old age,” he replied. “While vampires live far longer than humans, very few of us make it to our vampiric sixties or seventies.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Vampires measure age in two ways – earth years and vampire years,” he explained. “The vampiric age is the age of the body – physically, I am in my eighties. The earth age refers to how many years a vampire has been alive – I was a young boy when I was blooded, so I am seven hundred earth years old.”

Seven hundred! It was an incredible age.

“Though many vampires live for hundreds of earth years,” Seba went on, “hardly any make it to their vampiric sixties.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Vampires live hard. We push ourselves to the limit, undergoing many tests of strength, wit and courage. Hardly any sit around in pyjamas and slippers, growing old quietly. Most, when they grow too old to care for themselves, meet death on their feet, rather than let their friends look after them.”

“How come you’ve lived so long then?” I asked.

“Darren!” Mr Crepsley snapped, shooting me a piercing glare.

“Do not chastise the boy,” Seba smiled. “His open curiosity is refreshing. I have lived to this long age because of my position,” he said to me. “I was asked many decades ago to become the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain. It is not an enviable job, since it means living inside – hardly ever going hunting or fighting. But quartermasters are essential and much honoured – it would have been impolite of me to refuse. If I was free, I would have been long dead by now, but one who does not exert oneself tends to live longer than those who do.”

“It seems crazy to me,” I said. “Why do you push yourselves so hard?”

“It is our way,” Seba answered “Also, we have more time on our hands than humans, so it is less precious to us. If, in vampire years, a sixty-year-old man was blooded when he was twenty, he will have lived for more than four hundred earth years. A man grows tired of life when he has lived so much of it.”

I was trying to see it from their point of view, but it was hard. Maybe I’d think differently when I’d been around a century or two!

Gavner rose before we’d finished eating and said he had to leave. He asked Harkat to accompany him.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“The Hall of Princes,” he said. “I must present myself to the Princes and tell them about the dead vampire and vampaneze we discovered I also want to introduce Harkat, so he can pass on his message. The sooner the better, I think.”

When they left, I asked Mr Crepsley why we hadn’t gone with them. “It is not our place to present ourselves to the Princes,” he said. “Gavner is a General, so he has the right to ask to see the Princes. As ordinary vampires, we must wait to be invited before them.”

“But you used to be a General,” I reminded him. “They wouldn’t mind if you popped in to say hello, would they?”

“Of course they would,” Mr Crepsley scowled, then turned to Seba and sighed. “He is slow to learn our ways.”

Seba laughed. “And you are slow to learn the ways of the teacher. You forget how eagerly you questioned our way of life when you were blooded. I recall the night you stormed into my chambers and swore you would never become a General. You said Generals were backward imbeciles, and we should be looking to the future, not dwelling in the past.”

“I never said that!” Mr Crepsley gasped.

“You certainly did,” Seba insisted. “And more! You were a fiery youth, and there were times when I thought you would never calm down. I was often tempted to dismiss you, but I did not. I let you ask your questions and air your rage, and in time you learned that yours was not the wisest head in the world, and that the old ways might indeed be best.

“Students never appreciate their teachers while they are learning. It is only later, when they know more of the world, that they understand how indebted they are to those who instructed them. Good teachers expect no praise or love from the young. They wait for it, and in time, it comes.”

“Are you scolding me?” Mr Crepsley asked.

“Yes,” Seba smiled. “You are a fine vampire, Larten, but you have much to learn about teaching. Do not be so quick to criticize. Accept Darren’s questions and stubbornness. Answer patiently and do not scold him for his opinions. Only in this way can he mature and develop as you did.”

I extracted a guilty pleasure out of watching Mr Crepsley being hauled down a peg or two. I was extremely close to the vampire, but his pomposity sometimes got on my nerves. It was fun to see him have his wrists slapped!

“Stop smirking!” he snapped when he saw me.

“Now, now,” I scolded him. “You heard what Mr Nile said – be patient – strive to understand me.”

Mr Crepsley was puffing himself up to roar at me when Seba coughed discreetly. The vampire glanced at his old teacher, the air wheezed out of him, and he grinned sheepishly. Instead of giving out, he politely asked me to pass him a loaf of bread.

“My pleasure, Larten,” I responded wryly, and the three of us shared a quiet laugh while the other vampires in the Hall of Khledon Lurt bellowed, told stories and cracked ribald jokes around us.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AFTER BREAKFAST, Mr Crepsley and me went to shower as we were filthy from the trek. He said we wouldn’t wash often while here, but a shower at the start was a good idea. The Hall of Perta Vin-Grahl was a huge cavern with modest stalactites and two natural waterfalls, set close together to the right of the door. The water fell from high up into a vampire-made pond, and flowed to a hole near the back of the cavern, through which it disappeared and joined up with other streams underground.

“What do you think of the waterfalls?” Mr Crepsley asked, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the running water.

“Beautiful,” I said, admiring the way the torchlight reflected in the cascading water. “But where are the showers?”

Mr Crepsley grinned sadistically and I clicked to where we were meant to wash.

“No way!” I shouted. “The water must be freezing!”

“It is,” Mr Crepsley agreed, slipping off his clothes, “but there are no other bathing facilities in Vampire Mountain.”

I started to protest, but he laughed, walked to the nearest waterfall and immersed himself in the spray. I felt chilly just looking at the vampire showering, but I’d been eager to wash, and I knew he’d mock me for the rest of our stay if I backed out. So, wriggling free of my clothes, I walked to the edge of the pond, tested the water with my toes – yowch! – then leapt forward and surrendered myself to the flow of the second waterfall.

“Oh my lord!” I roared with ice-cold shock. “This is torture!”

“Aye!” Mr Crepsley shouted. “Now you understand why so few vampires bother to wash while at Council!”

“Is there a law against hot water?” I screeched, furiously scrubbing my chest, back and under my arms, in a hurry to finish with the shower.

“Not as such,” Mr Crepsley replied, stepping out of his waterfall and running a hand through his short crop of orange hair, before shaking it dry like a dog. “But cold water is good enough for nature’s other creatures of the wilds – we prefer not to heat it, at least not here, in the heart of our homeland.”

Rough, prickly towels had been laid out close to the pond, and I wrapped myself in two of them as soon as I got out from under the waterfall. For a few minutes I felt as though my blood had turned to ice, but then my sensations returned and I was able to enjoy the warmth of the thick towels.

“Bracing,” Mr Crepsley commented, rubbing himself dry.

“Murder, more like,” I grumbled, though secretly I’d rather enjoyed the originality of the primitive shower.

While we were dressing, I stared at the rocky ceiling and walls and wondered how old the Halls were. I asked Mr Crepsley.

“Nobody knows exactly when vampires first came here or how they found it,” he said. “The oldest discovered artefacts date back about three thousand years, but it is likely that for a long time it was only used occasionally, by small bands of wandering vampires.

“As far as we know, the Halls were established as a permanent base about fourteen hundred years ago. That is when the first Princes moved in and the Councils began. The Halls have grown since then. There are vampires at work on the structure all the time, hollowing out new rooms, extending old ones, building tunnels. It is long, tiring work – no mechanical equipment is allowed – but we have plenty of time to attend to it.”

By the time we emerged from the Hall of Perta Vin-Grahl, word of Harkat’s message had spread. He had told the Princes that the night of the Vampaneze Lord was at hand, and the vampires were in an uproar. They milled around the mountain like ants, passing on the word to those who hadn’t heard, discussing it hotly and making absurd plans to set out and kill all the vampaneze they could find.

Mr Crepsley had promised to take me on a tour of the Halls, but postponed it because of the commotion. He said we’d go when things quietened down – I might be trampled underfoot by agitated vampires if we set off now. I was disappointed, but knew he was right. This was no time to go exploring.

When we got back to my sleeping niche, a young vampire had taken away our coffins and was stringing up hammocks. He offered to find new clothes for Mr Crepsley and me if we wanted. We thanked him and accompanied him to one of the store-rooms to be kitted out. The stores of Vampire Mountain were full of treasures – food and blood vats and weapon caches – but I only got a brief look at these: the young vampire took us directly to the rooms where spare clothes were stored, and left us alone to pick whatever we liked.