Darren Shan - Vampire Prince

I sensed this wasn't the right time to speak of the disgust I'd felt in the cave, or my belief that vampires needed to learn compassion, so I held my tongue and nodded quickly.

"What about… Kurda and the… other survivors?" Harkat asked.

"They will be dealt with later," Mr. Crepsley said, eyes narrowing. "They will be questioned first, then executed. I will be there when they are. Do either of you wish to attend?"

"The questioning, yes," I said. "I'm not so sure about the executions."

"I will skip… both," Harkat said. "I don't feel… it's my place… to watch. This is a… matter for vampires."

"As you wish," Mr. Crepsley said. "What about the funerals? Do you want to bid farewell to Arra?"

"Of course," I answered quietly.

"I would like… that," Harkat agreed.

Mr. Crepsley's expression had softened as he mentioned Arra's name. "She did not say much once she left the cave," he whispered, more to himself than to Harkat or me. "Speaking was painful. She conserved her energy. Fought hard. She clung to life as long as she could.

"The medics expected her to die. Every time her breath caught in her throat, they rushed forward, eager to clear the way for other wounded vampires. But she hung on. They got so accustomed to the false alarms that when she did eventually die, they did not realize it, and she lay there twenty minutes, serene in my embrace, smiling blankly at me."

His eyes had filled with tears. I handed him a scrap of cloth as they began to drip, but he didn't use it. "I couldn't hear her last words," he croaked. "She spoke too softly. I think she was making some kind of reference to her defeat on the bars."

"Have you had any sleep?" I asked, beginning to cry too.

"How can I sleep?" he sighed. "There are the inquisitions to prepare for. I will not miss Kurda's sentencing, not if I have to forsake sleep forever."

"Don't be silly," I gently chided him. "When does the questioning start?"

"Midnight," he said with a sniff.

"Then you've plenty of time. Get some sleep. I'll wake you before it starts, and we'll go together."

"Promise?" he asked.

"I wouldn't lie to you about something this important," I replied.

He nodded, rose, and started for his cell. In the doorway, he paused and looked back. "You did well in the cave, Darren. You fought bravely. I was proud of you."

"Thanks," I said, choking on my tears, which were flowing freely now.

"Proud," he muttered again, then faced the corridor and shuffled off to his cell, carrying himself like an old, tired, broken man.

Later that night, Kurda Smahlt's trial began.

The Hall of Princes was packed with furious, bitter vampires, as was the cave outside. Virtually every vampire in the mountain wanted to be there to jeer at the traitor, spit at him, and cheer his sentence when it was announced. I'd come with Mr. Crepsley and Seba Nile. We were seated in the front row. We hadn't thought we'd get so close — we arrived late — but I soon discovered that I was the flavor of the moment. The vampires attributed much of their victory over the vampaneze to my efforts. They roared with rough delight when they saw me, then ushered me forward, pushing Mr. Crepsley and Seba along with me, insisting I take pride of place. I'd have rather hung back and viewed the proceedings from afar, but Mr. Crepsley was anxious to get as close to the platform as possible, and I didn't have the heart to disappoint him, not after what he'd been through with Arra.

The conspirators were going to be brought forward one by one, for separate questioning and sentencing. If they spoke openly, and the Princes were satisfied with their answers, they'd be taken straight to the Hall of Death and executed. If they refused to cooperate, they'd be led away and tortured in the hope that they'd spill their secrets (but vampaneze, like vampires, could deal with enormous amounts of pain and were almost impossible to break).

The first to face trial was Kurda. The disgraced General was dragged forward in chains, past the ranks of hissing and screaming vampires. Some brushed his guards aside and struck or kicked him. A few pulled at his blond hair and yanked fistfuls of it out by the roots. By the time he reached the platform, he was in a sorry state, his white robes ripped, his body bruised and bleeding. Yet still he held his head high, reacting to none of the abuse.

The Princes were waiting for him on the platform, flanked by four guards with long, sharp spears. He was placed before the trio, each of whom spat contemptuously on him. Then he was led to one side and turned around to face the assembled vampires. At first I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, but when I finally worked up the courage, I found he was staring down at me, smiling sadly.

"Order!" Mika Ver Leth shouted, silencing the booing vampires. "We have a long night ahead of us. We want to settle each case as quickly and effortlessly as possible. I know feelings are running high, but anyone who interrupts our interrogation of Kurda Smahlt — or the others — will be thrown out immediately. Have I made myself clear?"

The vampires muttered sullenly and settled back in their seats. When peace had been restored, Paris Skyle rose and addressed the congregation. "We know why we are here," he spoke softly. "We have been betrayed and besieged. I am as eager as any to see the vile mongrels suffer for their crimes, but first we must learn why they attacked and if we can expect further assaults." Turning to Kurda, his features hardened. "Were you in league with the vampaneze we killed yesterday?" he asked.

There was a long pause. Then Kurda nodded and said, "I was."

Several vampires screamed bloody murder and were swiftly escorted out of the Hall. The others sat white-faced and trembling, glaring hatefully at Kurda.

"Upon whose orders were you acting?" Paris asked.

"My own," Kurda said.

"Liar!" Arrow barked. "Tell us who put you up to this, or so help me, I'll —»

"I know what you'll do," Kurda interrupted. "Don't worry — I have no wish to be subjected to the rougher questioning of your professional torturers. I will speak the truth here."

"You'd better," Arrow grumbled, sinking back on his throne.

"Upon whose orders were you acting?" Paris asked again.

"My own," Kurda repeated. "The plan was mine. The vampaneze were here at my bidding. Torture me all you wish — my answer won't change because it can't change. It's the truth."

" You dreamt up this outrage?" Mika asked incredulously.

"I did." Kurda nodded. "I arranged for the vampaneze to come. I provided them with copies of my maps, so they could slip in undetected. I —»

"Traitor!" a vampire howled, trying to rush the platform. He was caught by a couple of guards and hauled away, kicking and screaming for all his worth.

"I could reach him," Mr. Crepsley whispered in the midst of the commotion, his eyes pinned on Kurda. "I could leap forward now and make an end of him before anyone could stop me."

"Peace, Larten," Seba whispered, laying a soothing hand on the vampire's trembling shoulders. "Kurda is going nowhere. His death will come soon enough. Let us hear him out."

As soon as the screams of the irate protestor had subsided, Paris resumed the questioning. "Is it true that you planned to slip the vampaneze into the Hall of Princes once you had been invested, to seize control of the Stone of Blood?"

"It is," Kurda answered directly. "We would have waited for the Ceremony of Conclusion. Then, while you were drinking yourselves stupid, reminiscing about this Council and looking forward to the next, I'd have sneaked them up through secret tunnels, eliminated those who stood on guard, and taken over the Hall."

"But you could not have held it," Paris objected. "Surely you knew that Mika, Arrow, and I would force open the doors and overwhelm you."