Vampire Mountain tsods-4

by Darren Shan

  "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. Although Harkat's message didn't mean anything to me, it obviously meant a whole lot 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 right away — 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 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 around.

  "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 part," 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 that was about twenty feet 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 good-bye," 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 to walk 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 ran 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 okay. 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 gray."

  "Really?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, then turned and resumed walking. Gavner and Harkat fell in behind him. I looked over my shoulder one last time at the departing wolves, sighed dejectedly, then I picked up my bag and followed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE CROSSED ABOVE THE OPENING where the stream came tumbling out of the mountain. The noise was deafening, especially for supersensitive 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 wen
t in after him. It was dark inside the tunnel. I was going to ask Mr. Crepsley if we should stop to set torches, but I realized that the farther 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 that 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 downward instead of up. I asked Gavner about this. "It's just the way the tunnel goes," he said. "It'll lead upward eventually."

  About half an hour later, we cut up. At one stage the tunnel veered upward almost vertically and we faced a difficult climb. The walls pressed tightly around us, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one whose mouth dried up with nerves. A little after the tunnel leveled out, it opened onto a small cave, where we stopped to rest. I could hear the stream we had crossed earlier churning along not far underneath our feet.

  There were four tunnels leading out of the cave. I asked Gavner how Mr. Crepsley knew which one to take. "The correct tunnel's marked," he said, leading me over to them and pointing to a tiny arrow that 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 once in a while to eat. As I was taking the cloth off her cage, I saw a spider creeping toward 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 a lot of books about arachnids and watched wildlife TV shows when I was younger — but hadn't seen any quite like this one before. It was hairier than most, and a weird yellow color.

  Once the spider left, I fed Madam Octa a couple of 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, although I kept one ear cocked while I dozed.

  Later we got up and proceeded farther up the mountain, taking the tunnels marked with arrows. After what seemed like ages 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 other 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 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 without 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 traveling 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, so he could see better). "He's an ugly specimen, isn't he?" the guard remarked. If he hadn't been carrying a spear, I'd have told 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. A couple of seconds 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 a couple of 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 made from the bones of large animals). There were handwoven 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 on it. As we sat at a long wooden table, I saw a vampire climb a ladder and add our names to the li
st. 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 had recently arrived, and a couple of green-uniformed guards. A vampire with long hair, wearing no shirt, came over to us with two round barrels. One of the barrels was packed to the top with loaves of hard bread, the other was half full of gristly pieces of both raw and cooked meat.

  We took as much as we wanted to eat and set it down on the table (there were no plates), using our ringers 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 drink right 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 out of 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.

  "Bat broth does not agree with me," he replied.

  My hand froze on its way to my mouth. The soaked piece of bread I'd been holding fell to the table. "Bat broth? "I yelped.

  "Of course," Gavner said. "What did you think it was made of?"

  I stared down into the dark liquid of the bowl. The light was bad in the cavern, but now that I focused, I spotted a thin, leathery wing sticking out of the broth. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" I moaned.

  "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 pretty full," I muttered. "I'll leave it for now." I looked 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.