by Darren Shan
"Now," Paris Skyle said, adopting a grave expression. "It is time we returned to the business of your assistant. We all know that the world has changed vastly these last few centuries. Humans are more protective of one another and their laws are stricter than ever, particularly with regard to their young. That is why we no longer blood children. Even in the past, we blooded few of them. It has been ninety years since we last added a child to our ranks. Tell us, Larten, why you decided to break with recent tradition."
Mr. Crepsley cleared his throat and locked eyes with the Princes, one after the other, until they settled on Mika. "I have no valid reason," he said calmly, and the Hall erupted into barely contained shouts and muffled, hurried conversations.
"There will be quiet in the Hall!" Paris shouted, and all noise ceased at once. He looked troubled when he faced us. "Come, Larten, do not play games. You would not blood a boy out of simple whimsy. There must be a reason. Did you kill his parents, perhaps, and decide it was your place to take care of him?"
"His parents are alive," Mr. Crepsley said.
"Both of them?" Mika snapped.
"Yes."
"Then they are looking for him?" Paris asked.
"No. We faked his death. They buried him. They think he is dead."
"That much at least you did right," Paris murmured. "But why blood him in the first place?" When Mr. Crepsley didn't answer, Paris turned to me and asked, "Darren? Do you know why he blooded you?"
Hoping to bail the vampire out of trouble, I said, "I found out the truth about him, so maybe part of it was to protect himself — he might have figured that he had to make me his assistant or kill me."
"That is a reasonable excuse," Paris noted.
"But not the truth," Mr. Crepsley said, and sighed. "I was never afraid of being exposed by Darren. In fact, the only reason he discovered the truth about me was because I tried to blood a friend of his, a boy his own age."
The Hall erupted into controversy, and it took the barking Princes several minutes to quiet the vampires. When order was finally restored, Paris resumed the questioning, more troubled than ever. "You tried to blood another boy?"
Mr. Crepsley nodded. "But his blood was tainted with evil — he would not have made a good vampire."
"Let me get this straight," Mika said angrily. "You tried blooding one boy, but couldn't; his friend found out, so you blooded him instead?"
"That is about the sum of it," Mr. Crepsley agreed. "I also blooded him in a rush, without revealing the full truth of our ways, which was unpardonable. In my defense I will add that I studied him at great length before blooding him, and was convinced of his honesty and strength of character when I did."
"What drew you to the first boy — the one with evil blood?" Paris asked.
"He knew who I was. He had seen a portrait of me in an old book, drawn long ago when I was using the name of Vur Horston. He asked to become my assistant."
"Didn't you explain our ways to him?" Mika asked. "Didn't you tell him we don't blood children?"
"I tried, but…" Mr. Crepsley shook his head miserably. "It was as though I had no control over myself. I knew it was wrong, but I would have blooded him regardless, if not for his foul blood. I cannot explain why, because I do not understand it."
"You'll have to come up with a better argument than that," Mika warned him.
"I cannot," Mr. Crepsley said softly, "because I have none."
There was a polite cough behind us and Gavner Purl stepped forward. "May I intervene on my friend's behalf?" he asked.
"By all means," Paris said. "We welcome your input, if it can clear things up."
"I don't know if it can do that," Gavner said, "but I'd like to note that Darren is an extraordinary boy. He made the trek to Vampire Mountain — no small feat for one his age — and fought a bear poisoned with vampaneze blood along the way. I'm sure you have heard of his contest with Arra Sails a few nights ago."
"We have." Paris chuckled.
"He is bright and brave, wily and honest. I believe he has the makings of a fine vampire. Given the chance, I think he'll excel. He's young, but younger vampires than him have come through the ranks. You were only two years old when you were blooded, weren't you, sire?" he asked Paris Skyle.
"That's not the point!" Mika Ver Leth shouted. "This boy could be the next Khledon Lurt and it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference. Facts are facts — vampires no longer blood children. It will set a dangerous precedent if we let this pass without taking action."
"Mika is right," Arrow said softly. "The boy's courage and ability are not the issue. Larten acted poorly in blooding the boy, and we must address that."
Paris nodded slowly. "They speak the truth, Larten. It would be wrong of us to ignore this. You yourself would never have tolerated such a breach of the rules were you in our position."
"I know," Mr. Crepsley said with a sigh. "I do not seek forgiveness, merely consideration. And I ask that no reprisals be taken against Darren. The fault is mine, and I alone should be punished."
"I don't know about punishment," Mika said uncomfortably. "I'm not out to make an example of you. Dragging your good name through the muck is the last thing on my mind."
"None of us wish to do that," Arrow agreed. "But what option have we? He did wrong — we must address that wrong."
"But we must address it mercifully," Paris mused.
"I ask for no mercy," Mr. Crepsley said stiffly. "I am not a young vampire who acted out of ignorance. I expect no special treatment. If you decide I am to be executed, I will accept your verdict without complaint. If-"
"They can't kill you because of me!" I gasped.
"If you decide I must be tested," he continued, ignoring my outburst, "I will rise to any challenge you care to set, and die meeting it if I must."
"There will be no challenge," Paris huffed. "We reserve challenges for those who have not proven themselves in battle. I will say once again — your good standing is not in question."
"Perhaps…," Arrow said hesitantly, then lapsed into silence. A few seconds later, he resumed. "I think I have it. The talk of challenges gave me an idea. There is a way to resolve this without killing our old friend or soiling his good name." Pointing a finger at me, he said coolly, "Let's set a challenge for the boy."
CHAPTER TWENTY
THERE WAS A LONG, thoughtful silence. "Yes," Paris Skyle finally murmured. "A challenge for the boy."
"I said I did not want to bring Darren into this!" Mr. Crepsley objected.
"No," Mika contradicted him. "You said you didn't want him to be punished. Well, he won't be — a challenge is not a punishment."
"It is fair, Larten," Paris agreed. "If the boy proves himself in a test, your decision to blood him will be accepted and no more need be said about it."
"And the dishonor will be his if he fails," Arrow added.
Mr. Crepsley scratched his long facial scar. "It is an honest solution," he mused, "but the decision is Darren's, not mine. I will not force a challenge on him."
He turned to me. "Are you prepared to prove yourself to the clan and clear our names?"
I fidgeted uneasily on my chair. "Um… what sort of a challenge are we talking about exactly?" I asked.
"A good question," Paris said. "It would be unfair to pit him in battle against one of our warriors — a half-vampire is no match for a General."
"And a quest would take too long," Arrow said.
"That leaves the Trials," Mika muttered.
"No!" someone shouted behind us. Looking around, I spotted a red-faced Kurda striding toward the platform. "I won't stand for this!" he shouted. "The boy isn't ready for the Trials. If you insist on testing him, let him wait till he is older."
"There will be no waiting," Mika growled, rising to his feet and taking a few steps toward Kurda. "We wield the authority here, Kurda Smahlt — you're not a Prince yet, so don't act like one."
Kurda, stopped and glowered at Mika, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "
My apologies for speaking out of turn, sire."
"Apology accepted," Mika grunted, returning to his seat.
"Have I the permission of the Princes to speak?" Kurda asked.
Paris checked with Mika, who shrugged curtly. "You have," he said.
"The Trials of Initiation are for experienced vampires," Kurda said. "They were not designed for children. It wouldn't be fair to subject him to them."
"Life for vampires has never been fair," Mr. Crepsley said. "But it can be just. I do not enjoy the idea of submitting Darren to the Trials, but it is a just decision and I shall stand by it if he agrees."
"Excuse me," I said, "but what are the Trials?"
Paris smiled kindly at me. "The Trials of Initiation are tests for vampires who wish to become Generals," he explained.
"What would I have to do?"
"Perform five acts of physical courage," he said. "The tests are picked at random and are different for each vampire. One involves diving to the bottom of a deep pool and retrieving a dropped medallion. In another you must dodge falling boulders. In another you must cross a hall filled with burning coals. Some tests are more difficult than others, but none are easy. The risk is great, and though most vampires survive, death by misadventure is not unheard-of."
"You mustn't agree to this, Darren," Kurda hissed. "The Trials are for full vampires. You aren't strong, quick, or experienced enough. You'll be signing your death warrant if you say yes."
"I disagree," Mr. Crepsley said. "Darren is capable of passing the Trials. It will not be easy, and he may struggle, but I would not let him step forward if I thought he would be completely out of his depth."
"Let's vote on it," Mika said. "I say it's the Trials. Arrow?"
"I agree — the Trials."
"Paris?"
The oldest living vampire shook his head uncertainly. "Kurda has a point when he says the Trials are not for children. I trust your judgment, Larten, but fear your optimism is misplaced."
"Can you suggest another way?" Mika snapped.
"No, but…" Paris sighed deeply. "What do the Generals think?" he asked, addressing those in the Hall. "We have heard from Kurda and Mika. Does anyone else have anything to add?"
The Generals muttered among themselves, until a familiar figure stood and cleared her throat — Arra Sails. "I respect Darren Shan," she said. "I have shaken his hand, and those who know me know how much that means to me. I believe Gavner Purl and Larten Crepsley when they say he will be a valuable addition to our ranks.
"But I also agree with Mika Ver Leth — Darren must prove himself. All of us have had to endure the Trials. They help make us what we are. As a woman, the odds were stacked against me, but I overcame them and took my place in this Hall as an equal. There must be no exceptions. A vampire who cannot pull his own weight is of no use to us. We have no place for children who need to be wet-nursed and tucked into their coffins at daybreak.
"Having said that," she concluded, "I don't think Darren will let us down. I believe he will pass the Trials and prove himself. I have every confidence in him." She smiled at me, then glared at Kurda. "And those who say otherwise — those who'd wrap him in blankets — should not be heeded. To deny Darren the right of Trials would be to shame him."
"Noble words," Kurda sneered. "Will you repeat them at his funeral?"
"Better to die with pride than live in shame," Arra retorted.
Kurda cursed quietly to himself. "How about it, Darren?" he asked. "Will you face death just to prove yourself to these fools?"
"No," I said, and saw a pained look cross Mr. Crepsley's face. "But I'll face death to prove myself to me," I added. When the red-cloaked vampire heard that, he beamed proudly and raised a clenched fist in salute.
"Let us put it to the Hall," Paris said. "How many think Darren should undertake the Trials of Initiation?" Every arm went up. Kurda turned aside in disgust. "Darren? You are willing to proceed?"
I looked up at Mr. Crepsley and made a sign for him to bend down. In a whisper, I asked him what would happen if I said no. "You would be disgraced and sent from Vampire Mountain in shame," he said solemnly.
"Would you be shamed, too?" I asked, knowing how much his good name meant to him.
He sighed. "In the eyes of the Princes I would not be, but in my own eyes I would. Having chosen and blooded you, I feel any shame of yours would also be mine."
I gave that careful consideration. I'd learned a lot about Mr. Crepsley, how he thought and lived, during the eight years I'd served as his assistant. "You couldn't bear such shame, could you?" I asked.
His expression softened. "No," he said quietly.
"You'd go and chase an early death. Hunt wild animals and fight vampaneze, and push yourself until one of them killed you?"
"Something along those lines," he agreed with a quick nod.
I couldn't let that happen. Six years ago, when we'd gone after Murlough, the mad vampaneze had kidnapped Evra, and Mr. Crepsley had offered to trade his life for the snake-boy's. He'd have done the same for me if I'd fallen into the killer's hands. I didn't like the sound of these Trials, but if undertaking them meant Mr. Crepsley could carry on without shame, I owed it to him to place myself in the firing line.
Facing the Princes, I stood up straight and said solidly, "I agree to the Trials."
"Then it is decided," Paris Skyle said, smiling approvingly. "Return tomorrow and we shall draw the first Trial. You may leave now and rest."
That was the end of our meeting. I left the Hall with Gavner, Harkat, and Kurda. Mr. Crepsley stayed to discuss business with the Princes — I think it had to do with Mr. Tiny, Harkat's message, and the dead vampaneze and vampire we'd found on our way here.
"I'm glad… to leave at… last," Harkat said as we made our way back to the Halls. "I was… growing bored of… same old… scenery."
I smiled, then glanced at Gavner worriedly. "How tough are these Trials?" I asked.
"Very," he sighed.
"Try tough as the walls of the Hall of Princes," Kurda growled.
"They're not that difficult," Gavner said. "Don't exaggerate the dangers, Kurda — you'll frighten him."
"That's the last thing I want to do," Kurda said, smiling encouragingly at me. "But the Trials are meant for fully grown vampires. I spent six years preparing for them, like most vampires do, yet I only barely scraped through."
"Darren will be okay," Gavner insisted, though the doubt in his voice was only barely concealed.
"Besides," I said, trying to cheer Kurda up, "I can always drop out if I get in over my head."
Kurda stared hard at me. "Weren't you listening? Didn't you understand?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Nobody walks away from the Trials," Gavner said. "You might fail, but you can't quit — the Generals won't let you."
"So I'll fail." I shrugged. "I'll throw in the towel if things get hairy — pretend I've got a twisted ankle or something."
"He doesn't understand!" Gavner groaned. "We should have explained it fully before we let him agree.
He's given his word now, so there's no going back. Black blood of Harnon Oan!"
"What don't I understand?" I asked, confused.
"In the Trials, failure entails one fate only — death!" Kurda told me grimly. I stared at him wordlessly. "Most who fail, die in the attempt. But should you fail and not die, you will be taken to the Hall of Death, strapped into a cage, hoisted above the pit, and —" he gulped, averted his eyes, and finished in a terrible whisper, "dropped on the stakes until you are dead!"
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