Darren Shan - Vampire War Trilogy

Breath caught in every vampire’s throat and you could feel hope forming in the air around us, like a cloud.

“The Vampaneze Lord is only a half-vampaneze at the moment,” Mr Tiny said. “If you find and kill him before he’s fully blooded, victory will be yours.”

At that, a huge roar went up, and suddenly vampires were clapping each other on the back and cheering. A few didn’t join in the hooting and hollering. Those with first-hand knowledge of Mr Tiny – myself, Paris, Mr Crepsley – sensed he hadn’t finished, and guessed there must be a catch. Mr Tiny wasn’t the kind to smile broadly when delivering good news. He only grinned like that when he knew there was going to be suffering and misery.

When the wave of excitement had died down, Mr Tiny raised his right hand. He clutched his heart-shaped watch with his left hand. The watch glowed a dark red colour, and suddenly his right hand glowed as well. All eyes settled on the five crimson fingers and the Hall went eerily quiet.

“When the Vampaneze Lord was discovered seven years ago,” Mr Tiny said, his face illuminated by the glow of his fingers, “I studied the strings connecting the present to the future, and saw that there were five chances to avert the course of destiny. One of those has already come and gone.”

The red glow faded from his thumb, which he tucked down into his palm. “That chance was Kurda Smahlt,” he said. Kurda was the vampire who led the vampaneze against us, in a bid to seize control of the Stone of Blood. “If Kurda had succeeded, most vampires would have been absorbed by the vampaneze and the War of the Scars – as you’ve termed it – would have been averted.

“But you killed him, destroying what was probably your best hope of survival in the process.” He shook his head and tutted. “That was silly.”

“Kurda Smahlt was a traitor,” Mika growled. “Nothing good comes of treachery. I’d rather die honourably than owe my life to a turncoat.”

“More fool you,” Mr Tiny chortled, then wiggled his glowing little finger. “This represents your last chance, if all others fail. It will not fall for some time yet – if at all – so we shall ignore it.” He tucked the glowing finger down, leaving the three middle fingers standing.

“Which brings us to my reason for coming. If I left you to your own devices, these chances would slip by unnoticed. You’d carry on as you have been, the windows of opportunity would pass, and before you knew it…” He made a soft popping sound.

“Within the next twelve months,” he said softly but clearly, “there may be three encounters between certain vampires and the Vampaneze Lord – assuming you heed my advice. Three times he will be at your mercy. If you seize one of these chances and kill him, the war will be yours. If you fail, there’ll be one final, all-deciding confrontation, upon which the fate of every living vampire will hang.” He paused teasingly. “To be honest, I hope it goes down to the wire – I love big, dramatic conclusions!”

He turned his back on the Hall and one of his Little People handed him a flask, from which he drank deeply. Furious whispers and conversations swept through the assembled vampires while he was drinking, and when he next faced the crowd, Paris Skyle was waiting. “You have been very generous with your information, Desmond,” he said. “On behalf of all here, I thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mr Tiny said. His fingers had stopped glowing, he’d let go of his watch, and his hands now rested in his lap.

“Will you extend your generosity and tell us which vampires are destined to encounter the Vampaneze Lord?” Paris asked.

“I will,” Mr Tiny said smugly. “But let me make one thing clear – the encounters will only occur if the vampires choose to hunt the Lord of the Vampaneze. The three I name don’t have to accept the challenge of hunting him down, or take responsibility for the future of the vampire clan. But if they don’t, you’re doomed, for in these three alone lies the ability to change that which is destined to be.”

He slowly looked around the Hall, meeting the eyes of every vampire present, searching for signs of weakness and fear. Not one of us looked away or wilted in the face of such a dire charge. “Very well,” he grunted. “One of the hunters is absent, so I’ll not name him. If the other two head for the cave of Lady Evanna, they’ll probably run into him along the way. If not, his chance to play an active part in the future will pass, and it will boil down to that lone pair.”

“And they are…?” Paris asked tensely.

Mr Tiny glanced over at me, and with a horrible sinking feeling in my gut, I guessed what was coming next. “The hunters must be Larten Crepsley and his assistant, Darren Shan,” Mr Tiny said simply, and as all eyes in the Hall turned to seek us out, I had the sense of invisible tumblers clicking into place, and knew my years of quiet security inside Vampire Mountain had come to an end.

THE POSSIBILITY of refusing the challenge never entered my thoughts. Six years of living among vampires had filled me with their values and beliefs. Any vampire would lay down his life for the good of the clan. Of course, this wasn’t as simple as giving one’s life – I had a mission to fulfil, and if I failed, all would suffer – but the principle was the same. I’d been chosen, and a vampire who’s been chosen does not say ‘no’.

There was a short debate, in which Paris told Mr Crepsley and me that this was not official duty and we didn’t have to agree to represent the clan – no shame would befall us if we refused to co-operate with Mr Tiny. At the end of the debate, Mr Crepsley stepped forward, red cloak snapping behind him like wings, and said, “I relish the chance to hunt down the Vampaneze Lord.”

I stepped up after him, sorry I wasn’t wearing my impressive blue cloak, and said in what I hoped was a brave tone, “Me too.”

“The boy knows how to keep it short,” Mr Tiny murmured, winking at Harkat.

“What about the rest of us?” Mika asked. “I’ve spent five years hunting for that accursed Lord. I wish to accompany them.”

“Aye! Me too!” a General in the crowd shouted, and soon everyone was bellowing at Mr Tiny, seeking permission to join us in the hunt.

Mr Tiny shook his head. “Three hunters must seek – no more, no less. Non-vampires may assist them, but if any of their kinsmen tag along, they shall fail.”

Angry mutters greeted that statement.

“Why should we believe you?” Mika asked. “Surely ten stand a better chance than three, and twenty more than ten, and thirty – ”

Mr Tiny clicked his fingers. There was a sharp, snapping sound and dust fell from overhead. Looking up, I saw long jagged cracks appear in the ceiling of the Hall of Princes. Other vampires saw them too and cried out, alarmed.

“Would you, who has not seen three centuries, dare to tell me, who measures time in continental drifts, about the mechanisms of fate?” Mr Tiny asked menacingly. He clicked his fingers again and the cracks spread. Chunks of the ceiling crumbled inwards. “A thousand vampaneze couldn’t chip the walls of this Hall, yet I, by clicking my fingers, can bring it tumbling down.” He lifted his fingers to click them again.

“No!” Mika shouted. “I apologize! I didn’t mean to offend you!”

Mr Tiny lowered his hand. “Think of this before crossing me again, Mika Ver Leth,” he growled, then nodded at the Little People he’d brought with him, who headed for the doors of the Hall. “They’ll patch the roof up before we leave,” Mr Tiny said. “But next time you anger me, I’ll reduce this Hall to rubble, leaving you and your precious Stone of Blood to the whim of the vampaneze.”