by T. H. Hunter
“Thank you,” I said, “Were you watching from above as well?”
“Yes, yes, I was. But I have some very urgent business to attend to… can’t be avoided I’m afraid. Will only take a few minutes. Well, I’ll see you at the ceremony.”
And with that, he was off. He had looked worried to me, quite unlike his usual boyish self.
I passed further along the corridor until I reached another archway. I had to bend slightly in order to pass, pushing aside the tapestry that covered it. Before me was the largest hall I had ever seen in my life. It was packed with people, hundreds, perhaps as many as a thousand, sitting at dark wooden tables. Most, I could see, were in their late teens or twenties. The tables stretched outward from the middle of the hall, like rays of sunshine in a child’s drawing. At the centre, slightly elevated, stood a massive fountain made of stone. Above the students’ heads, a large gallery overlooked the hall, though it was empty at the moment.
As soon as I had entered through the little archway, the crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause. A woman dressed in plain black robes approached me. She was in her 40s, very thin, and was wearing a sour demeanour that disfigured what must have been a pretty face in her youth.
She extended her hand to me. I shook it.
“Miss Flynn?” she asked sharply, checking her list.
“That’s me,” I said.
“Welcome to the Royal Stronghold. My name is Prill. We’re happy to welcome you. Congratulations.”
Whatever was coming out of her mouth, she didn’t look as if she meant any of it. But I was far too happy to care.
“The newly Initiated sit in the inner ring. Dinner will be served as soon as everyone is done,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said, still unable to stop grinning.
From amongst the crowd, Lynn was beckoning furiously to me. I crossed over to her, greeting the people I’d recognised from the training camp along the way. They all looked tremendously relieved. The clapping subsided, and people began chatting amongst themselves again.
“How did it go, Beccs?” Lynn asked, getting up from her seat and hugging me.
Before I could answer, a familiar voice spoke:
“Yes, I was curious about that, too, you know.”
I swung around to see who it was. It was Raphael.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to jump off a cliff,” I said, but the voice seemed to be entirely someone else’s. Why was I always so out of breath when I was trying to sound cool?
“I hope not when I was around, surely?” Raphael said confidently, grinning at me and then winking at Lynn, who was making sniggering noises in the background.
+ Raphael teases her
“Well, I’ll see you around, Rebecca,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”
When he was out of earshot, Lynn pounced on me.
“You didn’t tell me you the Prince!” she said.
“I – the what?” I said.
“He’s the Prince, King Rorik’s son, Beccs,” Lynn said. “Didn’t you know?”
“No… No, I didn’t. He was part of the party that saved me from the Slayers.”
“Oooh, I didn’t know that he was in the Task Force. He likes you, you know.”
“I bet he does that with everyone,” I said. I wasn’t even sure I believed it myself, but I still felt furious somehow.
“No, he doesn’t,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw it,” Lynn said, “boys, well, you can tell. They just look at you in a certain way.”
“Still doesn’t mean I like him,” I said sulkily.
Lynn burst out laughing. It was so contagious that I couldn’t stop myself, despite my best efforts, from joining in. But then Lynn might be a lot wiser than I was in these matters.
“So how did the Trial go for you? It sounded awful, I was really worried when you went out,” I said, trying to change the subject.
Lynn began relating her tale. In retrospect, of course, it all sounded as if we’d had the time of our lives. Perhaps we had. We were briefly interrupted by the next round of applause. Steve, his colour almost returned to his handsome face, had his hand shaken by Mrs. He walked over to the table next to him, in the outer ring, and Mrs. Prill quickly bustled over to tick him off. The hall laughed good-humouredly. Steve, red in the face, laughed apologetically and then made his way over to the Initiates’ table next to ours, which happened to be where Vanessa and Jayden were sitting. Vanessa gave him one haughty look and continued to engage Jayden in conversation. I noticed that Jayden, though friendly enough towards Vanessa, kept looking in Lynn’s direction.
“And when the drawbridge went up, I didn’t know what to do,” Lynn continued. “I thought at first I’d have to get one of the gargoyles to come and pick me up or something. But he only gave me that poem.”
Others were listening in to our conversation now, too, adding their own details of what had happened to them. The entire inner ring of tables was abuzz with talk and discussion, only interrupted by our enthusiastic welcome of all those that had passed the Trial. It was good to see people happy again, to feel that way myself.
The light was steadily fading now, and more torches were being lit around the hall. There couldn’t be many Uninitiated left.
At long last, after welcoming yet another fresh Initiate, the doors were closed on the archway, and Mrs. Prill, raising her voice above the babble of the crowd, said:
“Dinner will be served now. Please remain seated. The feeding will occur in exactly one hour from now.”
Up on the gallery, the same figures that had overseen my trial
Dozens of helpers – perhaps workers from the village, though it was hard to tell – brought in enormous plates with roast chicken, mutton, venison, vegetables and every conceivable side dish. Great trays of desserts were shouldered by them, while barrels of Romanian beers and wines, the names of which I’d never heard of in my life, were rolled in. The hall soon erupted in a cacophony of clinking cutlery.
“I’m thirsty,” Lynn said suddenly.
“Well, have something to drink,” I said, pushing the pitcher of water toward her.
“Not that stuff, the Elixir!”
Judging by the quick affirmations around us, most people were feeling that way, and, I had to admit, so was I. My throat felt dry somehow despite drinking water, like an unquenchable thirst.
When all had finished their meals, and the plates had been carried off, Doctor Yurasov, whom I hadn’t noticed up in the gallery so far, stepped forward and announced the speaker.
“First Warden, Doctor Stephanopoulos,” he said.
A man stepped forward and gripped the balustrade with both hands. He was a tall and distinguished-looking man. He had pitch-black hair with greying temples. His black robes with white lining matched his hair perfectly.
Overlooking the crowd with a calm benignity, Stephanopoulos held out his left hand for silence.
“Thank you, Doctor Yurasov, our Second Warden,” he said, inclining his head in Yurasov’s direction. “I wish to extend the warmest welcome to the newest members of our family. As the staff and I have just witnessed, you have proven yourselves worthy of study within our walls, and I commend you for your courage and commitment.
“This is the beginning – not the end – of your journey. It is the will and obligation of this institution to train you in the Vampiric Arts, to hone the gift that fate has so fortunately bestowed upon you. I have seen many students pass through these halls in my lifetime, and few of them had a true understanding of just how much potential lay within them. We will help you to uncover that potential.
“But with ability also comes responsibility. It is an uncomfortable fact of history that our community abused its powers to take advantage of the innocent and the weak, of neighbours or even our own families. We preferred to satisfy our own selfish needs rather than to respect the right to life of others.
“Though we may nev
er rectify the past, we can at least atone for its evils and work toward a brighter future. From our modest attempts at controlling our instincts many decades ago, we have come a very long way. The Vampiric Council’s unanimous for the total prohibition on the drinking of blood still stands as strong as it ever did.”
At this point, there was a great deal of muttering throughout the hall. I looked about and saw several people shaking their heads and whispering in an unmistakably hostile manner. Others, however, were nodding their heads in emphatic agreement. The vast majority of the newly Initiated – me included – looked rather puzzled.
First Warden Stephanopoulos paused, waiting for silence to return.
“I realise,” he continued, “that progress and change are difficult. We all feel the draw of blood just as acutely as each of you sitting here before me, I can assure you. We fight every day to purge it from our minds. It is a constant reminder of the danger we pose to others and of our holy mission to control it.
“Our doctors have been working on a substitute for many years. It is therefore with great satisfaction that I can announce major improvements to the Elixir this year. The Fountain before us has served the Vampiric Community for centuries. Instead of having the blood of countless innocents flow from it, however, we can offer a safe and ethical alternative. I implore you all to keep this in mind when feeding.”
Stephanopoulos stepped back from the balustrade, and there was a round of applause. Whistles and yells were matched by booing.
“Doesn’t seem to be too popular, does it?” Lynn said.
She was right. It was impossible to give an estimate, but a significant portion of the students seemed to be less than happy about the speech.
Before we had any opportunity to discuss the matter further, a gong echoed throughout the hall, and Doctor Yurasov appeared at the fountain. All the staff had risen from their places and stood next to Stephanopoulos, who was watching the scene below.
“The Feeding begins,” Yurasov said curtly, pointing to a table with more senior students.
They immediately got up, forming a line leading to the fountain. The school watched as they stepped forward and Doctor Yurasov filled a goblet with the Elixir. Yurasov then beckoned them onwards. The process with so many students took quite a while, though it was faster than I had expected. The students seemed eager to drink despite it not being the real thing.
The newly Initiated were the last to drink. We got up, mirroring the behaviour of the older students. When it was my turn, Doctor Yurasov gave me another one of his cryptic looks.
“It is good to see you, Miss Flynn,” he said, smiling at me.
I nodded in appreciation and then lowered my head to the fountain. The smell of the Elixir was strong, yet not repugnant. I took the goblet from Doctor Yurasov. As soon as it touched my lips, I tasted that familiar flavour of iron and sweetness. It was a lot better than the stuff we had got out in the training camp. Perhaps they really had improved it, or the bottled stuff just wasn’t as fresh as this.
Walking back to my table, I felt both refreshed and thirsty at the same time. It was a curious sensation, a feeling of not quite being satisfied. By the looks of it, the other students felt quite the same way.
Finally, after all the newly Initiated had drank from the fountain, the teachers stepped down from the gallery and joined Doctor Yurasov at the fountain.
Doctor Stephanopoulos was wearing his benign smile again as he wished each of the staff well for the coming semester, calling their names and shaking their hands before they drank.
“Doctor Wiley,” Stephanopoulos called finally.
There was silence.
“Doctor Wiley,” he repeated.
He was nowhere to be seen.
Doctor Stephanopoulos looked at Mr. Vox, who stepped forward and whispered something in his ear. Stephanopoulos nodded. He looked worried. When he spoke next, his voice was unusually subdued.
“In the name of the staff, I wish you all the best for the upcoming semester.”
I looked quizzically at Lynn, who appeared to be just as baffled as I was. He hadn’t given any explanation for Doctor Wiley’s absence at all.
***
“Male first years, with me,” Dr. Yurasov ordered. The guys immediately detached. Some, Jayden among them, were mockingly disappointed at being separated from the girls. Beyond the laughter, I couldn’t help notice Jayden throw Lynn a last look. Ms Prill, taking silent orders from Dr. Yurasov, beckoned us to follow her.
“You will be sleeping in the East Tower in your first year,” she said.
“What, no coffins in some underground dungeon?” I said to Lynn.
“Would beat those huts any day, though,” she said.
We marched for quite some time through the castle’s many corridors. They were all made of the same white grey stone, though the occasional paintings of vampires or tapestries covered the walls. We finally reached a narrow spiral staircase ahead and ascended it. Perhaps it was the tiredness from the day, but it felt unusually steep.
After a while, Mrs. Prill led us through an archway that led away from the stairs. We found ourselves in a narrow yet circular hallway that wrapped itself around the staircase.
“Silence please. You will find that your luggage has already been brought up. You will find your names on the doors. Recent changes in policy,” Mrs. Prill said, lingering disapprovingly on the last word, “have allowed students to switch and swap rooms as they please. I cannot prevent you from doing so, but you must report any changes to me immediately. The Junior Common Room is located on the third and upper-most floor of this tower. You will find your schedules in your rooms. Goodnight.”
Chaos ensued as everyone tried to find their rooms. Finally, we did. It a simple room with a chair, a bed and a table. A single letter lay on it. My luggage had been neatly placed at the foot of my bed.
I sat down on it, happy but exhausted, and opened the letter, which bore the words “1st year schedule”.
12.00Vampiric Ethics and Philosophy (Mme Dampierre) – West Wing
14.00Stealth (Dr. Linton)– Outer Courtyard
16.00Engineering (Master Gorgos) – West Tower
18.00Vampiric History (Dr. Yurasov) – West Wing
20.00Vampiric Martial Arts (Dr. Matei) – Dungeons
14.00Haematology (Dr. Balewa)– Lecture Hall
16.00Surgery (Dr. Hasenberg)– Hospital
18.00Alchemy (Dr. Wiley)– East Tower
20.00Wolfhandling (Dr. Stephanopoulos)– Initiates’ Gr.
I had endless questions about the subjects, and I was sure so did Lynn. We were so exhausted from the day that we just slumped onto our beds and immediately fell into a deep sleep.
9
Doctor Wiley’s mysterious disappearance continued to be the number one topic the next day at breakfast. Apparently, he still hadn’t turned up. It was announced at breakfast that his classes were to be held by his assistant, Mr. Vox, who would be working overtime. No further information from the staff was forthcoming, however, despite numerous students asking. It was evident that his disappearance came as a great surprise to everyone – staff and students. Rumours spread throughout the castle that some sort of foul play was involved.
+ Ethics and philosophy
“What’s next?” Lynn asked.
“Stealth training with Dr. Linton,” I said, checking my schedule again.
“Oh no, he’s that boring British guy,” she said.
“Hey, I’m British,” I said in mock indignation.
“There’s an exception to every rule,” she said, grinning. “He’s just ancient.”
We arrived with just a minute to spare. Most of the class was already there, forming a half-circle on the lawn.
“My name,” a voice said in a careful voice, “is Dr. Linton.”
We shuffled forward to get a better look. A small, extremely thin man stood before us. He was almost entirely bald save a grey ring around his head. He looked quite frail.
“In this class, you will learn the ancient techniques of concealment,” Dr. Linton continued. “They are indeed as old as vampires themselves, though only very few treatises survived the Great Fire of Munich in 1327, after which all remaining records were moved here.
“As students in your first semester, many hours of study await you. You must be meticulous and regular in your training if you hope to so much as prevent your breathing or your beating heart from alerting your enemies.
“Who are your enemies, you may ask? Indeed, many of the more distinguished of our community ask me the same thing. What do we have to fear – now that the wars are over and no vampire who takes blood from the innocent may go unpunished?”
He paused briefly, quivering, surveying his audience.
“The ancient arts have come under attack as a tool of war, even as the enabler of Vampiric aggression. What my detractors fail to see is that they are just as much a tool of defence, and of vital importance to the concealment of our world.”
“What is he talking about?” I asked Lynn in a lowered tone.
“No idea. Guess he isn’t too popular in the teachers’ hall, though,” she said.
“If you train diligently, the rewards are great indeed,” he said. “Let me demonstrate.”
He took a few steps away from the group so that we could see him all clearly. He was slowly walking across the lawn away from us. Nothing happened. After a few moments, some people began to snigger. But then, his figure suddenly became faded and blurred, like on an old television screen. His entire being seemed to phasing in and out of space, until he was entirely invisible.
We all stood there, awestruck [delete above Yurasov demonstration?]. He was nowhere to be seen. Some people began to cheer.
“Thank you,” Dr. Linton’s soft voice came from behind us, barely audible above the ruckus. The class swerved round at once. “It will be many years before you may achieve the art of invisibility.”