A/N: Originally, I hadn't intended to post any fic today. And then this happened. Consider it a bonus.
Larten put on a good front for Darren so as not to worry the boy, but inside his gut is roiling at the news of the Blooded Boars. Granted, it is as good as any Trial as could be hoped for under the circumstances, but still. The memory of Wester (and how his throat tightens even now at the thought of his name) impaled on the tusk of one such boar is one which has stayed with him through all of the long decades since. If Wester, a full vampire in the prime of his health, almost died as the result of that trial, then what hope does Darren, a half-vampire and suffering from severe burns, stand?
No. He must not allow himself to think in that manner. If Darren suspected that he was prey to such thoughts, then the boy would not stand any chance. It would dishearten him completely. After all, he killed a bear driven mad with vampaneze blood on the way here. Of course he will be all right.
It is late in the day – the trial will be starting in eight hours. He really should return to his coffin, but he knows that if he does then he will not be able to sleep. The worry bubbling low in his stomach will boil over.
Were it not for your wounds, I would even hazard a guess that you could do it with one arm tied behind your back.
Larten has never been given to bravado, but his words had the desired result of bringing a smile to Darren's face. That much, at least, he can do.
(If only it were in his power to spare Darren the ordeal of the Trials altogether. But that would not be fair to him – he deserves the chance to prove himself. Why, then, did he never think to demand the removal of the Hall of Flames from the possible selection? If he had had the wisdom to do that much, then they would not be in this situation now.)
His eyes sting, briefly, and he surprised to realise that he is crying. It must be the exhaustion – he has hardly slept since Darren drew the Hall of Flames in the first place. Arra would berate him if she saw him, but she is in her coffin as any sensible vampire is. Perhaps he should at least try to get some rest. He is no good to anyone like this.
He slips quietly out of the Hall of Khledon Lurt, so that Gavner and Kurda – drinking together by the back wall – do not notice him, and makes his way back to his cell. The mountain is quiet at this time of the day, ensuring that no one can see the tears he is still trying to dry. (It is irrational to cry. Darren will be all right.)
I'm proud to have been your assistant.
The words echo in Larten's ears as they did when Darren first uttered them, causing him to stop just short of his cell. His heart twists and he looks in on the boy, sleeping on his belly in his hammock, Harkat asleep in the hammock next to him. That boy could be killed in a few hours time, and there is nothing that Larten or anyone else can do about it.
Larten swallows back the tears threatening to spill afresh from his eyes and hoarsely murmurs, "I am proud to have been your mentor, Darren Shan."