Trials of Death. Darren Shan

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СКАЧАТЬ VAST cavern known as the Hall of Khledon Lurt was almost deserted. Apart from those sitting at my table – Gavner, Kurda and Harkat – there was only one other vampire present, a guard who sat by himself and sipped from a mug of ale, whistling tunelessly.

      Roughly four hours had passed since I learned I was to be judged in the Trials of Initiation. I still didn’t know very much about the Trials, but from the glum faces of my companions, and by what had been said in the Hall of Princes, I gathered my chances of emerging victorious were, at best, slim.

      While Kurda and Gavner muttered on about my Trials, I studied Harkat, who I hadn’t seen much of recently (he’d been cooped up in the Hall of Princes, answering questions). He was dressed in his traditional blue robes, although he now wore his hood down, no longer bothering to hide his grey, scarred, stitched-together face. Harkat had no nose, and his ears were sewn beneath the skin of his skull. He had a pair of large, round, green eyes, set near the top of his head. His mouth was jagged and full of sharp teeth. Normal air was poisonous to him – ten or twelve hours of it would kill him – so he wore a special mask which kept him alive. He moved it down over his chin when he was talking or eating, and back up to cover his mouth when he wasn’t. Harkat had once been human, but had died and come back in this body, after striking a deal with Mr Tiny. He couldn’t remember who he’d been or what sort of a deal he’d struck.

      Harkat had carried a message to the Princes from Mr Tiny, to the effect that the night of the Vampaneze Lord was at hand. The Vampaneze Lord was a mythical figure whose arrival would supposedly signal the start of a war between the vampires and vampaneze, which – according to Mr Tiny – the vampaneze would win, wiping out the vampire forces in the process.

      Catching my eye, Harkat lowered his mask and said, “Have you … seen much of … the Halls?”

      “A fair bit of them,” I replied.

      “You must … take me … on a tour.”

      “Darren won’t have much time for tours,” Kurda sighed miserably. “Not with the Trials to prepare for.”

      “Tell me more about these Trials,” I said.

      “The Trials are part of our vampiric heritage, going back as long as any vampire can remember,” Gavner told me. Gavner Purl was a Vampire General. He was very burly, with short brown hair, and he had a scarred, beaten face. Mr Crepsley often teased him about his heavy breathing and snoring. “In the old nights they were held at every Council,” Gavner continued, “and every vampire had to endure them, even if they’d passed a dozen times already.

      “About a thousand years ago, the Trials were restructured. This was about the time that the Generals came into being. Before that, there were just Princes and ordinary vampires. Under the new terms, only those who wished to be Generals needed to undertake the Trials. A lot of ordinary vampires take the Trials even if they don’t want to be a General – a vampire must usually pass the Trials of Initiation to earn the respect of his peers – but they aren’t required to.”

      “I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought if you passed the Trials, you automatically became a General.”

      “No,” Kurda answered ahead of Gavner, running a hand through his blond hair. Kurda Smahlt wasn’t as muscular as most vampires – he believed in brains over brawn – and he bore less scar tissue than most, though he had three small red permanent scratches on his left cheek, marks of the vampaneze (Kurda’s dream was to reunite the vampires and vampaneze, and he’d spent many decades discussing peace treaties with the murderous outcasts). “The Trials are only the first test for would-be Generals. There are other tests of strength, endurance and wisdom, which come later. Passing the Trials just means you’re a vampire of good standing.”

      Good standing was a phrase I’d heard many times. Respect and honour were vitally important to vampires. If you were a vampire of good standing, it meant you were respected by your colleagues.

      “What happens in the Trials?” I asked.

      “There are many different tests,” Gavner said, taking over again from Kurda. “You have to complete five of them. They’ll be picked at random, one at a time. The challenges range from fighting wild boars to climbing perilous mountains to crawling through a pit filled with snakes.”

      “Snakes?” I asked, alarmed. My best friend at the Cirque Du Freak – Evra Von – kept a huge snake, which I’d grown accustomed to but never learned to like. Snakes gave me the shivers.

      “There won’t be any snakes in Darren’s Trials,” Kurda said. “Our last snake-keeper died nine years ago and hasn’t been replaced. We still have a few snakes, but not enough to fill a tub, never mind a pit.”

      “The Trials take place one night after another,” Gavner said. “A day’s rest is all you’re allowed in between. So you have to be especially careful at the start — if you get injured early on, you won’t have much time to recover.”

      “Actually, he might get lucky there,” Kurda mused. “The Festival of the Undead is almost upon us.”

      “What’s that?” I asked.

      “We celebrate with a huge feast when every vampire who’s coming to Council has arrived,” Kurda explained. “We used the Stone of Blood to search for latecomers a couple of nights ago, and only three more are on their way. When the last arrives, the Festival starts and no official business may take place for three nights and days.”

      “That’s right,” Gavner said. “If the Festival starts during your Trials, you’ll have a three night break. That would be a great bonus.”

      “If the latecomers arrive in time,” Kurda noted gloomily.

      Kurda seemed to think I didn’t stand a chance in the Trials. “Why are you so sure I’ll fail?” I asked.

      “It’s not that I think poorly of you,” Kurda said. “You’re just too young and inexperienced. Apart from the fact that you’re physically unprepared, you haven’t had time to assess the different tasks and practise for them. You’re being thrown in at the deep end and it isn’t fair.”

      “Still harping on about fairness?” someone commented behind us — Mr Crepsley. Seba Nile – the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain – was with him. The pair sat and greeted us with silent nods.

      “You were very quick to agree to the Trials, Larten,” Kurda said disapprovingly. “Don’t you think you should have explained the rules to Darren more thoroughly? He didn’t even know that failure to complete the Trials means certain death!”

      “Is that true?” Mr Crepsley asked me.

      I nodded. “I thought I could quit if things weren’t working out.”

      “Ah. I should have made it clearer. My apologies.”

      “A bit late for those now,” Kurda sniffed.

      “All the same,” Mr Crepsley said, “I stand by my decision. It was a delicate situation. I did wrong to blood Darren — there was no hiding from that. It is important for both our sakes that one of us clears our names. Had I the choice, I would face the challenge, but the Princes elected Darren. Their word, as far as I am concerned, is law.”

      “Besides,” Seba Nile added, “all is far from lost. When I СКАЧАТЬ