Hunters of the Dusk (The Saga of Darren Shan #7)

Hunters of the Dusk (The Saga of Darren Shan #7) Page 16

WE SOLEMNLY filed out of Evanna's cave and circled the pond, each of us brooding about the witch's prophecy. We'd known from the start that this would be a peril-filled quest, with death never far from our heels. But it's one thing to anticipate your possible end, quite another to be told it's a certainty if you fail.

We followed no particular direction that first night, only walked aimlessly through the darkness, saying nothing, barely taking note of our surroundings. Harkat hadn't been included in Evanna's prophecy - he wasn't one of the hunters - but was as disturbed as the rest of us.

Towards dawn, as we were making camp, Vancha suddenly burst out laughing. "Look at us!" he hooted, as we stared at him uncertainly. "We've been moping all night like four sad souls at a funeral. What idiots we've been!"

"You think it amusing to have a death sentence imposed on us, Sire?" Mr. Crepsley asked archly.

"Charna's guts!" Vancha cursed. "The sentence has been there since the start - all that's changed is that we know about it!"

"A little knowledge is a... dangerous thing," Harkat muttered.

"That's a human way of thinking," Vancha chided him. "I'd rather know what lies ahead, good or bad. Evanna has done us a favour by telling us."

"How do you figure that?" I asked.

"She confirmed that we'll have four chances to kill the Vampaneze Lord. Think about it - four times his life will be ours to take. Four times we'll face him and do battle. He might get the better of us once. Perhaps twice. But do you really think he'll evade us four times in a row?"

"He will not be alone," Mr. Crepsley said. "He travels with guards, and all vampaneze in the area will rush to his aid."

"What makes you think that?" Vancha challenged him.

"He is their Lord. They will sacrifice their lives to protect him."

"Will our fellow vampires back us up if we run into trouble?" Vancha responded.

"No, but that is because..." Mr. Crepsley stopped.

"... Mr. Tiny's told them not to," Vancha grinned. "And if he's picked just three vampires to go head to head with the Vampaneze Lord, maybe-"

"- he has only picked three vampaneze to help their Lord!" Mr. Crepsley finished, excited.

"Right," Vancha beamed. "So the odds against us besting him are, in my view, better than even. Do you agree?" All three of us nodded thoughtfully. "Now," he continued, "let's say we make a pig's ear of it. We face him four times, we blow it, and our chance to defeat him passes. What happens then?"

"He leads the vampaneze into war against the vampires and wins," I said.

"Exactly." Vancha's smile faded. "By the way, I don't believe that. I don't care how powerful their Lord is, or what Des Tiny says - in a war with the vampaneze, I'm certain we'll win. But if we don't, I'd rather die beforehand, fighting for our future, than be there to watch the walls of our world come crashing down."

"Brave words," I grunted sourly.

"The truth," Vancha insisted. "Would you prefer to die at the hands of the Vampaneze Lord, when hope is still on our side, or survive and bear witness to the downfall of the clan?" I didn't reply, so Vancha went on. "If the predictions are true, and we fail, I don't want to be around for the end. It would be a terrible tragedy, and would madden anyone who saw it.

"Believe me," Vancha said, "the two who die in that eventuality will be fortunate. We shouldn't worry about dying - it's living we have to fear if we fail!"

I didn't get much sleep that day, thinking about what Vancha had said. I doubt if any of us slept much, except Evanna, who snored even louder than the Prince.

Vancha was right. If we failed, the one who survived would have the worst time of all. He'd have to watch the vampires perish, and bear the burden of blame. If we were to fail, death along the way was the best any of us could hope for.

Our spirits had lifted when we rose that evening. We were no longer afraid of what lay ahead, and instead of talking negatively, we discussed our route. "Mr. Tiny said to follow our hearts," Mr. Crepsley reminded us. "He said fate would lead us if we placed ourselves in its hands."

"You don't think we should try tracking down the Vampaneze Lord?" Vancha asked.

"Our people have spent six years seeking him, without success," Mr. Crepsley said. "Of course we must keep our eyes peeled, but otherwise I believe we should go about our business as if he did not exist."

"I don't like it," Vancha grumbled. "Fate's a cruel mistress. What if destiny doesn't lead us to him? Do you want to report back in a year and say, 'Sorry, we didn't run into the blighter, bad luck, what??

"Mr. Tiny said to follow our hearts," Mr. Crepsley repeated stubbornly.

Vancha threw his hands into the air. "OK - we'll do it your way. But you two will have to pick the course - as many women have attested, I'm a boundless cad who doesn't have a heart."

Mr. Crepsley smiled thinly. "Darren? Where do you want to go?"

I started to say I didn't care, then stopped as an image flashed through my thoughts - a picture of a snake-boy sticking an extra long tongue up his nose. "I'd like to see how Evra's doing," I said.

Mr. Crepsley nodded approvingly. "Good. Just last night I was wondering what my old friend Hibernius Tall was up to. Harkat?"

"Sounds good to me," Harkat agreed.

"So be it." Facing Vancha, Mr. Crepsley said in as imperious a tone as he could muster, "Sire, we head for the Cirque Du Freak."

And so our direction was decided and the dice of destiny were cast.