Darren Shan - Cirque Du Freak 06 - Vampire Prince

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Book 6

by Darren Shan

LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY

New York An AOL Time Warner Company

•

any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval

systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer

who may quote brief passages in a review.

First U.S. Edition First published in Great Britain by Collins in 2002

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental

and not intended by the author.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Shan, Darren.

The Vampire Prince / by Darren Shan. — 1st ed.

p. cm. — (The saga of Darren Shan ; bk. 6)

Sequel to: Trials of death.

Summary: Betrayed by Kurda and reeling from the brutal slaying of Gavner, the vampire's assistant, Darren Shan, finds himself

branded a traitor and hunted by the vampire clan.

ISBN 0-316-60709-6

[1. Vampires — Fiction. 2. Horror stories.] I. Title: At head of title:

Cirque Du Freak. II. Title.

PZ7.S52823 Val 2003

[Fie] — dc21 2003040274

10 987654321

Q-FF

Printed in the United States of America

Also in the Saga of Darren Shan:

Cirque Du Freak (Book 1)

The Vampire's Assistant (Book 2)

Tunnels of Blood (Book 3)

Vampire Mountain (Book 4)

Trials of Death (Book 5)

For:

Martha & Bill — who fed a hungry half-vampire

OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

Katherine "kill-crazy" Tyacke

Stella "slabber" Paskins

Editors extraordinaire: Gillie Russell & Zoe Clark

Agent provocateur: Christopher Little

PROLOGUE

Be careful who you trust. Even a supposedly close friend might be capable of betraying you. I found

that out the hard way.

My name's Darren Shan. I'm a half-vampire. I was blooded when I was very young, and for eight

years I toured the world with the Cirque Du Freak — a traveling circus of magically gifted performers.

Then my mentor — Larten Crepsley — said I had to be presented to the Vampire Princes.

Most of the Princes and Vampire Generals gather in the remote Vampire Mountain once every twelve

years, for the Council of Vampires. After a long, tiring trek to the mountain with Mr. Crepsley, Harkat

Mulds (a Little Person who'd been brought back from the dead by a powerful man called Mr. Tiny),

Gavner Purl (a General), and four wolves (including a male I called Streak and a cub I nicknamed Rudi),

I faced the Princes, who said I had to prove myself worthy of joining the ranks of the undead. They gave

me a series of harsh tests known as the Trials of Initiation. If I passed all five tests, I'd be accepted as

one of them. If I failed, I'd be killed.

I passed the first three Trials, but the fourth ended disastrously — I would have been gouged to death

by a wild boar if not for Harkat, who leapt into the pit and killed the boar. The problem was, his

intervention broke all the rules. While the vampires debated my fate, one sneaked into my cell and led me

away to safety. He was a blond, slender, peaceful, highly intelligent vampire called Kurda Smahlt, and he

was shortly due to become a Prince. I believed he was my friend.

While we were escaping, Gavner caught up with us and tried talking me into going back to face the

verdict of the Princes. Kurda persuaded him to let me go. But as we were closing in on freedom, we ran

into a bunch of vampaneze — purple-skinned enemies of the vampires, who kill humans when they drink

from them — hiding in a cave.

That's when Kurda showed his true colors. He stabbed and killed Gavner, and I realized he was in

league with the vampaneze. He tried taking me alive, but I ran and fell into a mountain stream. Kurda

would have saved me, but I ignored his helping hand and surrendered myself to the vicious flow of the

stream, which swiftly swept me away underground, into the belly of the mountain and certain death . . .

CHAPTER ONE

Darkness — cold — churning water — roaring, like a thousand lions — spinning around and around

— bashing into rocks — arms wrapped around my face to protect it — tucking up my legs to make

myself smaller, less of a target.

Wash up against a clump of roots — grab hold — slippery — the wet roots feel like dead fingers

clutching at me — a space between the water and the roof of the tunnel — I draw quick gasps of breath

— current takes hold again — try fighting it — roots break off in my hands — swept away.

Tumbling over and over — hit my head hard on a rock — see stars — almost black out — struggle

to keep head up — spit water out of my mouth, but more gushes in — feels like I'm swallowing half the

stream.

The current drags me against a wall — sharp rocks cut deeply into my thighs and hips —

freezing-cold water numbs the pain — stops the flow of blood — a sudden drop — plummet into a deep

pool — down, down, down — held under by force of the falling water — panicking — can't find my

way up — drowning — if I don't break free soon, I'll…

My feet strike a wall and propel me forward — drift slowly up and away from the pool — flow is

gentle here — lots of space between water and the top of the tunnel — able to bob along and breathe —

air's cold, and it stings my lungs, but I gulp it down thankfully.

The stream opens out into what sounds like a large cave. Roars from the opposite end: the water must

drop sharply again there. I let myself drift to one side before facing the drop. I need to rest and fill my

lungs with air. As I tread water near the wall in the dark, something clutches at my bald head. It feels like

twigs. I grab at them to steady myself, then realize they're not twigs — they're bones!

Too exhausted to be scared, I grasp the bones as though they were part of a life buoy. Taking long,

deep breaths, I explore the bones with my fingers. They connect to a wrist, an arm, a body, and a head:

a full skeleton. This stream was used to dispose of dead vampires in the past. This one must have washed

up here and rotted away over the decades. I search blindly for other skeletons but find none. I wonder

who the vampire was, when he lived, how long he's been here. It must be horrible, trapped in a cave like

this, no proper burial, no final resting place.

I shake the skeleton, hoping to free it. The cave erupts with high-pitched screeches and flapping

sounds. Wings! Dozens or hundreds of pairs of wings! Something crashes into my face and catches on

my left ear. It scratches and bites. I yelp, tear it loose, and slap it away.

I can't see anything, but I sense a flurry of objects flying over and around me. Another collides with

me. This time I hold on and feel around it — a bat! The cave's full of bats. They must nest here, in the

roof. The sound of me shaking the skeleton disturbed them, and they've taken flight.

I don't panic. They won't attack me. They're just frightened and will settle down soon. I release the

one I've caught and let it join the rush above me. The noise dies down after a few minutes, and the bats

return to their perches. Silence.

I wonder how they get in and out of the cave. There must be a crack in the roof. For a few seconds I

dream about finding it and climbing to safety, but my numb fingers and toes quickly put an end to

thoughts like that. I couldn't climb, even if I could find the crack and it was big enough for me to fit

through.

I start thinking about the skeleton again. I don't want to leave it here. I tug at it, careful this time not to

make too much noise. It doesn't budge at first — it's wedged firmly. I get a stronger grip and pull again.

It comes loose, all at once, and falls on top of me, driving me under. Water gushes down my throat. Now

I panic! The skeleton is heavy on top of me, weighing me down. I'm going to drown! I'm going to drown!

I'm going to —

No! Stop panicking. Use my brain. I wrap my arms around the skeleton and slowly roll over. It

works! Now the skeleton's underneath and I'm on top. The air tastes good. My heart stops pounding. A

few of the bats are circling again, but most are still.

Releasing the skeleton, I guide it out toward the middle of the cave, using my feet. I feel the current

take it, then it's gone. I hang on to the wall, treading water, giving the skeleton time to wash ahead of me.

I begin thinking while I wait: was it a good idea to free the skeleton? A nice gesture, but if the bones

catch on a rock further along and block my way…

Too late to worry now. Should have thought of that before.

My situation's as desperate as ever. Crazy to think I might get out of this alive. But I force myself to

think positively: I've made it this far, and the stream must open up sooner or later. Who's to say I can't

make it to the end? Believe, Darren, believe.

I'd like to hang here forever — easier to cling on and die of the cold — but I have to try for freedom.

In the end, I force my fingers to unclench and let go of the bank. I drift out into the middle of the stream.

The current bites at me and takes hold. Speeding up — the exit — roaring grows furiously — flowing

fast — angling sharply downward — gone.

CHAPTER TWO

Even worse beyond the cave — makes the first half of the ride seem like a dip in a swimming pool —

sickening drops and turns — walls studded with jagged stones — water gushes wildly, madly — tossed

about as though made of putty — impossible to exert control — no time to pause for breath — lungs

bursting — hold my arms tight over my head — tuck my legs up as far as they'll go — conserve oxygen

— bash my head on rocks — my back — legs — belly — back — head — shoulders — head...

Lose count of the crashes — can't feel pain any longer — eyes playing tricks on me — looking up, it's

as if the rocks are invisible — I believe I can see the sky, the stars, the moon — this is the beginning of

the end — senses confused, brain shuts down — out of luck — out of hope — out of life.

I open my mouth to take one long, last drink of water — slam into a wall — air explodes out of me

— force of crash pushes me upward — I break through to a small pocket of air between water and roof

— lungs draw it in greedily, automatically.

I float here a few seconds, pressed against the wall, gasping in air — current takes me again and

drags me under — through a narrow tunnel — incredible speed — like a bullet — tunnel getting

narrower — speed increases — my back scrapes along the wall — the rock's smooth, otherwise I'd be

cut to shreds — feels like a water slide — almost enjoying this part of the nightmarish ride.

Tunnel evens out — running low on oxygen again — try forcing head up to search for air — can't —

don't have the energy to fight.

Water creeps up my nose — I cough — water pours down my throat — I'm losing the battle — roll

over, facedown — this is the end — lungs are filling with water — I can't close my mouth — waiting for

death — all of a sudden: no water — flying — (flying?) — whistling air surrounds me — looking down

at land — stream cutting through it — floating, as though I'm a bird or a bat — closer to stream —

closer — are my eyes playing tricks again?

Turn over in middle of flight — look up — sky, real sky, open and bright with stars — beautiful —

I'm out! — I'm really out — I made it! — I can breathe. I'm alive! I'm . . .

Flight ends — hit water hard — impact shakes my guts to pieces and knocks my brain out of order

— blackness again, only this time inside my head.

CHAPTER THREE

Consciousness returns gradually. Sounds strike me first: the roar of the water, much softer than in the

mountain, almost lyrical. Slowly, my eyes flutter open. I'm staring up at stars, drifting along on my back.

Luck or my body's natural defenses? I don't know. I don't care. I'm alive!

The current isn't strong here. I could easily swim to the bank, pull myself to safety, and begin the trip

back to Vampire Mountain, which I see in the distance. Except I don't have the strength. I try rolling over

to swim — can't. My legs and arms are like dead blocks of wood. I've survived the ride through the

mountain, but the cost has been high. I'm completely limp and helpless.

I study the landscape while the stream sweeps me further away from Vampire Mountain. It's rugged

and unspectacular, but beautiful after the darkness. Anything would seem beautiful after the darkness. I'll

never take the countryside for granted again.

Am I dying? I could be — no feeling, no control, at the mercy of the stream. Maybe I'm dead already

and just haven't realized it. No! Not dead. Water splashes up my nose and I splutter: proof I'm still alive.

I won't give up, not after all I've been through. I have to find strength to make it to the bank. I can't drift

along like this forever: the longer it drags on, the harder it will be.

I try willing energy into my exhausted limbs. I think about dying young and what a waste it would be,

but that doesn't give me strength. I think about the vampires and the threat they face from Kurda and the

vampaneze, but that doesn't work either. Finally, an old vampire myth succeeds in spreading a burst of

fire through my icy bones: I recall the myth that a vampire who dies in running water is doomed to stick

around as a ghost — no journey to Paradise for those who die in rivers or streams.

Strangely (as I never believed the myth), the thought spurs me into action. I raise a weak arm and flap

feebly for the bank. The action doesn't do much, apart from spin me around a little, but the fact that I'm

able to move at all fills me with hope.

Gritting my teeth, I face the bank and force my legs up behind me. They respond sluggishly, but they

do respond. I try to swim freestyle — can't. I roll over onto my back, kick weakly with my feet, and

guide myself with gentle hand motions. I slowly pull toward the bank. It takes a long time, and I'm swept

much further away from Vampire Mountain, but finally I'm in shallow water, out of the current.

I half rise to my knees, then collapse. Lying facedown, I turn my head sideways, splutter, then get

back on my knees. I crawl out of the water onto the snowy bank, where I collapse again. My eyes close.

I weep silently into the snow.

I want to lie here and freeze: simpler than moving. But my feet are still in the water and I don't like the

feel of them drifting behind me, so I pull them out. The effort goads me into further action. Groaning, I

brace myself, then rise slowly and painfully to my feet.

Standing, I stare around as if I'm on an alien planet. Everything looks different. Day is breaking, but

stars and the moon still shine lightly in the sky. After so long inside the mountain, I'd forgotten what

daylight looks like. It's wonderful. I could stand here all day and just stare, except that wouldn't get me

anywhere, and soon I'd fall, into the stream or the snow, and freeze.

Sighing, obeying some insistent inner instinct, I drag my feet forward a few steps, pause, shake my

head, straighten up, and lurch away from the stream, which froths and hisses angrily behind me —

cheated of its victim.

CHAPTER FOUR

It didn't take me long to realize I couldn't make it very far if I continued in this state. I was soaked to

the bone. My clothes were heavy with water, and the air around me was bitterly cold. Mr. Crepsley had

told me what to do if this ever happened: get rid of the wet clothes quickly, or I'd freeze to death inside

them.

It took a lot of effort to get out of my clothes. My fingers were numb, and I ended up having to use

my teeth to tear my way out. But I felt better after I'd undressed. A great weight had been lifted from my

body, and although the full force of the cold hit me immediately, I started at a brisker pace.

It didn't bother me that I was wandering around as naked as the animals of the wild. There was

nobody to see. Even if there had been, I wouldn't have cared — being so close to death, modesty was

the last thing on my mind.

My brisk pace didn't last long. After a while, I began to understand just how serious a mess I was in. I

was stranded in the middle of nowhere, no clothes to protect me from the cold, beaten to a pulp,

physically and mentally drained, with nothing to eat. It was a struggle just to keep moving. In a matter of

minutes, I would run out of energy and collapse. The cold would set in. Frostbite and hypothermia would

finish me off.

I tried jogging, to warm myself up, but couldn't. My legs simply wouldn't work. It was a miracle they

were able to support me at all. Anything faster than a slow crawl was beyond them.

I stopped and turned in a full circle, hoping to see something familiar. If I was close to one of the

resting places known as way stations, used by vampires in their travels to and from Council, there might

be hope. I could hole up, catch a day or two of sleep, and recover my strength. A good plan, with just

one major flaw — I had no clue where I was or if there were any way stations nearby.

I weighed my options. Standing still would get me nowhere. And scouting for a way station was out of

the question — I didn't have the strength or time. The first order of the day was to find somewhere

sheltered to rest. Food, warmth, and working my way back to Vampire Mountain could come later — if

I survived.

There was a forest about half a mile to my left.

That was the best place to head. I could curl up at the base of a tree and cover myself with leaves.

Maybe find some insects or small animals to eat. It wasn't ideal, but it made more sense than standing

here in the open, or climbing slippery rocks in search of caves.

I fell many times on my way to the forest. That wasn't surprising — I was amazed I'd made it this far.

Each time I lay in the snow a few minutes, gathering my strength, then hauled myself to my feet and

staggered on again.

The forest had become a magical beacon. I was convinced that if I could make it to the trees,

everything would be fine. Deep inside, I knew that was nonsense, but the belief kept me going. Without

it, I'd have been unable to continue.

I finally ran out of steam a hundred yards or less from the first trees of the forest. I knew in my heart,

as I lay panting in the snow, that I'd reached the end of my strength. All the same, I rested a few minutes,

as I had before, then tried to rise — no good. I made it as far as my knees, then dropped. Another long

rest. Again I tried to rise. Again I fell, this time face first into the snow, where I lay, shivering, unable to

roll over.

The cold was unbearable. A human would have died from it long ago. Only the vampire blood in my

veins had kept me going. But even the powerful blood of the vampires had its limits. I'd pushed to the

very end of mine. I had no strength left, not even the tiniest morsel.

I was finished.

I wept pitifully as I lay there, tears turning to ice on my cheeks. Snowflakes drifted onto my eyelashes.

I tried lifting a hand to brush them away, but couldn't. Even that small gesture was beyond me. "What an

awful way to die," I moaned. Another hundred yards and I would have been safe. To collapse and die

this close to the end was a shame. Maybe if I'd rested more in the cave in the mountain, I'd have had the

energy to continue. Or if I'd—

A sharp, yapping sound jolted me out of my reverie. I'd closed my eyes and been drifting off to

sleep/death. At the sound, I cracked them open. I couldn't move my head, and the flakes of snow

clouded my vision, but I was staring in the general direction of the forest and could see a vague shape

making its way toward me, tumbling through the snow. Oh, great, I thought. As if things weren't bad

enough — now something's going to come along and eat me before I'm dead! Could things get any

worse? Judging by what had happened to me recently — yes!

I shut my eyes as the creature came nearer and hoped I'd be too numb to feel its teeth and claws as it

devoured me. Fighting back was out of the question — a squirrel could have knocked me out, in my

condition.

Hot breath clouded my face. A long tongue licked around my nose. I shivered. It licked again, this

time my cheeks and ears. Then it licked the snowflakes from my eyelashes.

I opened my eyes and blinked. What was going on? Was it cleaning me up before it killed me? That

seemed unlikely. Yet what other explanation could there be? As I adjusted my vision, the animal nudged

back a bit and came into focus. My jaw dropped. My lips quivered. And in a pained, shaky voice, I

mumbled incredulously, "Rudi?"

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Book6byDarrenShanLITTLE,BROWNANDCOMPANYNewYorkAnAOLTimeWarnerCompanyCopyright©2002byDarrenShan•Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformorbyanyelectronicormechanicalmeans,includinginformationstorageandretrievalsystems,withoutpermissioninwritingfromthepublisher,exceptbyareviewerwhoma...

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