Trials of Death. Darren Shan

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      “Why are they doing that?” I asked Vanez.

      “It’s a customary gesture,” he explained. “We call it the death’s touch sign. It means, ‘Even in death, may you be triumphant’.”

      “I’d rather they just said, ‘Good luck’,” I muttered.

      “That doesn’t have quite the same resonance,” Vanez chuckled. “We believe that the gods of the vampires respect those who die nobly. They bless us when a vampire meets death proudly, and curse us when one dies meekly or poorly.”

      “So they want me to die well for their own sakes,” I said sarcastically.

      “For the sake of the clan,” Vanez corrected me seriously. “A vampire of good standing always puts the good of the clan before his own wellbeing. Even in death. The hand gesture is to remind you of that.”

      The Aquatic Maze was built in the pit of a large cavern. From the top it looked like a long square box. Around the sides of the pit were forty or fifty vampires, the most the cave could hold. Among them were Gavner and Kurda, Seba Nile and Arra Sails — and Mika Ver Leth, the Vampire Prince who’d sentenced me to the Trials.

      Mika summoned us over, nodded gravely to Vanez and Mr Crepsley, then fixed his icy gaze on me. He was dressed in his customary black outfit and looked even sterner than Mr Crepsley. “You have prepared for the Trial?” he asked.

      “I have.”

      “You know what lies ahead of you?”

      “I do.”

      “Except for the four exits, there is no escape from the maze,” he said. “Should you fail this Trial, you will not have to face the Hall of Death.”

      “I’d rather the stakes to drowning,” I grunted.

      “Most vampires would,” he agreed. “But you need not worry — it is still water, not running.”

      I frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

      “Still water cannot trap a vampire’s soul,” he explained.

      “Oh, that old myth,” I laughed. Many vampires believed that if you died in a river or stream, your soul remained trapped forever by the flowing water. “That doesn’t bother me. It’s the drowning I’m not fond of!”

      “Either way, I wish you luck,” Mika said.

      “No you don’t,” I sniffed.

      “Darren!” Mr Crepsley hissed.

      “It’s all right,” Mika silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Let the boy speak his piece.”

      “You made me take the Trials,” I said. “You don’t think I’m good enough to be a vampire. You’ll be happy if I fail, because it’ll prove you were right.”

      “Your assistant has a low opinion of me, Larten,” Mika remarked.

      “He is young, Mika. He does not know his place.”

      “Don’t apologize for him. The young should speak their thoughts.” He addressed me directly again. “You are right in one thing only, Darren Shan — I don’t think you have what it takes to make it as a vampire. As for the rest of what you say…” He shook his head. “No vampire takes pleasure in seeing another fail. I sincerely hope you prove me wrong. We need vampires of good standing, now more than ever. I will raise a glass of blood to your name should you complete the Trials, and willingly admit in public that I misjudged you.”

      “Oh,” I said, bemused. “In that case, I guess I’m sorry for what I said. No hard feelings?”

      The black-haired, eagle-eyed Prince smiled tightly. “No hard feelings.” Then he clapped his hands loudly, barked sharply: “May the gods bless you with the luck of the vampires!” — and the Trial commenced.

      I was blindfolded, placed on a stretcher and carried into the heart of the maze by four guards — so I couldn’t memorize the way. Once inside, I was set down and the blindfold was removed. I found myself in a narrow corridor, about a metre and a half wide, less than two metres high. My size would work in my favour in this Trial — tall vampires had to stoop, which made the going even harder.

      “You are ready?” one of the guards asked.

      “I’m ready,” I said, glancing around the corridor to find my first marker. I spotted a whitish stone in the wall to my left and made a note of it, starting my mental map-making process.

      “You must stay here till the water pours,” the guard said. “That’s the signal for the start of the Trial. Nobody can check on you once we leave, so there’s nothing to prevent you cheating, apart from your conscience.”

      “I won’t cheat,” I snapped. “I’ll wait for the water.”

      “I’m sure you will,” the vampire smiled apologetically. “I had to say it anyway — tradition.”

      The four guards gathered up the stretcher and left. They were all wearing extra soft shoes, so their footsteps made no noise.

      Small candles were set in glass bulbs in the roof of the maze, so I’d have plenty of light to see by, even when the water rose high.

      My nerves gnawed at me while I was waiting for the water to gush. A cowardly voice inside my head niggled at me to make an early beginning. Nobody would ever know. Better to live with a little shame than die because of stupid pride.

      I ignored the voice — I’d never be able to look Mr Crepsley, Gavner or the others in the eye if I cheated.

      Finally there was a gurgling sound and water bubbled up out of a nearby pipe. Breathing a sigh of relief, I hurried for the end of the corridor, dragging my rock behind me, shaking the rope at regular intervals, as Vanez had taught me.

      I made good time to start with. The water barely hindered me and there were plenty of striking stones to identify the different corridors by. I didn’t panic when I came to a dead end or worked my way back to a corridor I’d already visited, just stuck my head down and kept walking, taking a new route.

      The going got tough after five or six minutes. The water was up above my knees. Each step was an endeavour. The rock now felt like it weighed a tonne. I was having trouble breathing and my muscles ached, especially those in my legs and back.

      Still I didn’t panic. Vanez had prepared me for this. I had to accept the water, not fight it. I let my pace drop. The mistake many vampires made was to try walking quickly — they exhausted themselves early and never got anywhere near the end.

      Another couple of minutes passed. I was growing anxious. There was no way to tell how close or far from the finish I was. I could be a single turn away from an exit door without knowing it — or nowhere near one. At least I’d recognize an exit if I saw it — a huge white X was painted on all four doors and a large black button was at the centre of the X. All I had to do was press that button and the door would open, the water would flood out, and I’d be safe.

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