Chapter 11

(Like the last chapter, this one is hazy. Keep in mind Kanzii is still weak. Also, the reasoning behind it is the fact that I can't even begin to try and reenact Darren Shan's vivid details for this chapter! However, some pieces have been quoted, so all credits for the quoted sections go to Darren Shan!)

We had been down in the tunnels for what seemed like ages. My ankle was sprained, and I was still weak from being sick only a week before, but I was ready, I was ready for anything. My hand was close to my long, sharp sword, which had been a parting gift from Seba when I left for the second time.

I glanced at Vancha's hostage, Chief Inspector Alice Burgess. I didn't much like her, but another human would prove to be another distraction. I had a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, but then, I knew the truth, a truth I couldn't tell the others. If I did, the vampire's would lose the War of Scars, and damn the world to hell.

We were faced with a difficult obstacle. The vampaneze had Debbie, and there was a pit of stakes in front of our face.

"How are we supposed to get across?" I asked, staring at the stakes. I shivered at the thought of perishing on them.

"We could skirt the pit and climb the wall," Larten suggested.

Vancha shook his head. "Look again," he said.

Larten, Darren and I scanned the walls. Darren and Larten saw it long before I did. They both groaned.

"What is it?" Harkat asked, his round green eyes not as sharp as ours.

"There are scores of tiny holes in the wall," Darren said. "Ideal for firing darts or bullets through."

"They'd cut us down in seconds if we tried climbing it," Vancha said.

"That's dumb," Chief Inspector Alice Burgess muttered. We looked back at her. "Why lay a trap here and not in the tunnel?" she asked. "The walls of the tunnel could have been peppered with holes like that one. We had nowhere to turn, nowhere to run. We were sitting ducks. Why leave it till now?"

"Because it isn't a trap," Vancha told her. "It's a warning. They don't want us going that way. They want us to use the platform."

The police chief frowned. "I thought they wanted to kill you."

"They do," Vancha said, "but they want to play with us first."

"Dumb," she muttered again, clutching her knife close to her chest, turning slowly to survey the whole of the cavern, as though she expected demons to dart from the walls and floor.

"You smell that?" Larten asked, his nose wrinkling.

"Gasoline?" I asked.

"Petrol," Darren corrected me. "It's coming from the pit."

"Perhaps we should move back," Vancha suggested, and we quickly withdrew without need of further prompting.

"This is stupid!" I growled. "I am so sick and tired of being toyed with. Honestly, this is childish!"

"That is Leopard for you," Larten grumbled.

I felt my body fade away as darkness filled my field of view. I knew that Desmond was taking me away from the action, he wanted me oblivious, he didn't want me to open my mouth. He was afraid I would ruin his plan.

"You're wise. But I am wiser. You will not tell them," he hissed in my ear.

He wasn't there, but the darkness was. I stayed very still, not taking the chance of toppling into the pit.

I was snapped from the induced darkness by Darren punching me hard in the side. My eyes snapped open, and locked on the scene before me. I hadn't realized that I had been fighting, guided by Desmond's ever meddling hand. To those around me, it simply looked as if I had been fighting my ass off, instead of standing in darkness.

My eyes locked on Larten.

On the platform, Steve wailed as the weight of Larten caused the chain to tighten around the flesh of his right hand. He tried shaking it loose, but couldn't. As he stood, leaning half over the rail, struggling

with the chain, Larten reached up, grabbed the sleeve of Steve's shirt, and pulled him over further, caring nothing for his own life, intent only on taking Steve's.

As the pair fell — Steve screaming, Larten laughing — Gannen Harst thrust a hand out and caught Steve's flailing left hand. The vampaneze groaned painfully as the weight of the two men dragged on the muscles and tendons in his arm, but braced himself against an upright support post and held tight.

"Let go!" Steve screamed, kicking out at Larten, trying to knock him off. "You'll kill us both!"

"That is what I mean to do!" Larten roared. He didn't seem in the least bit bothered by the threat of death. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, having killed the Lord of the Vampaneze — or perhaps he didn't care about his own life if it meant killing Steve. Either way, he'd accepted his fate and made no attempt to climb Steve's body to safety. In fact, he started tugging on the chain, trying to break Gannen Harst's hold.

"Stop!" Gannen Harst roared. "Stop and we'll let you go!"

"Too late!" Larten howled. "I swore two things to myself when I came down here. One — I would kill the Lord of the Vampaneze. Two — I would kill Steve Leonard! I am not a man for leaving a job half done, so …"

He tugged even harder than before. Above him, Gannen Harst gasped and shut his eyes against the pain.

"I can't … hold on … much longer!" he moaned.

"Larten!" Vancha shouted. "Don't do it! Trade your life for his. We'll track him down later and finish him

off!"

"By the black blood of Harnon Oan — no!" Larten roared. "I have him now, so I will kill him. Let that be the end of it!"

"And what … about your … allies?" Gannen Harst shouted, and as the words penetrated Larten's skull, he stopped struggling and gazed up warily at the ex-protector of the Vampaneze Lord.

"As you hold the life of Steve Leonard in your hands," Harst said quickly, "I hold the lives of your friends. If you kill Steve, I'll order their deaths too!"

"No," Larten said quietly. "Leonard is a madman. His life must not be spared. Let me—"

"No!" Gannen Harst yelled. "Spare Steve and I'll spare the others. That's the deal. Agree to it, quick, before I lose my grip and the bloodshed continues."

"You spare his life too! Please!" I screamed. My eyes locked on Steve. My heart sank. If I could spit the words out, I would save my mentor…my father's life. "Please," I whispered as I fell to my knees.

"No!" Steve snarled. "Creepy Crepsley dies. I won't let him go."

"Don't be stupid!" Gannen Harst bellowed. "You'll die too if we don't release him!"

"Then I'll die," Steve sneered.

"You don't know what you're saying!" Harst hissed.

"I do," Steve replied softly. "I'll let the others go, but Crepsley dies now, because he said I was evil."

Steve glared down at the silent Larten. "And if I have to die with him, I will — consequences be damned!"

I felt tears slip down my cheeks. My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest.

Larten addressed Vancha. "It seems our paths must part, Sire."

"Aye," Vancha croaked bitterly.

"We shared some good times," he said.

"Great times," Vancha corrected him.

"Will you sing my praises in the Halls of Vampire Mountain when you return, and drink a toast to me, even if it is only a glass of water?"

"I'll drink a crate of ale to your name," Vancha vowed, "and sing death songs till my voice cracks."

"You always did take things to extremes" he laughed. He then looked at Darren. "Darren," he said.

"Larten," he replied, smiling awkwardly.

"Hurry!" Gannen Harst shouted. "My grip is slipping. A few more seconds and I'll—"

"A few seconds will suffice," Larten said, not one to be rushed, even when death was beckoning. Smiling sadly at Darren, he said, "Do not let hatred rule your life. My death does not need to be avenged. Live as a free vampire, not as a twisted, revenge-driven creature of despair. Do not become like Steve Leonard or R.V. My spirit will not rest easy in Paradise if you do."

"You don't want me to kill Steve?" he asked uncertainly.

"By all means kill him!" Larten boomed. "But do not devote yourself to the task. Do not—" His voice trialed off as he looked at me. I held his gaze, forcing the tears to cease.

"Kanzii, be strong. Protect Darren, protect the clan. Promise me that you will not seek revenge either. Follow your heart, but trust your head," he said softly. "Don-"

"I can't … hold … any longer!" Gannen Harst wheezed. He was trembling and sweating from the strain.

"Nor shall you have to," Larten responded. His eyes passed from me to Vancha to Darren and back again then up to the ceiling. He stared as though he could see through the layers of rock, concrete and earth above to the sky beyond. "Gods of the vampires!" he bellowed. "Even in death, may I be triumphant!"

Then, as the echoes of his final cry reverberated around the walls of the cavern, Larten let go of the chain. He hung in the air an impossible moment, almost as though he could fly … then dropped like a stone towards the steel-tipped stakes beneath.

"NO!" I screamed. I threw myself at his falling body, but Vancha held me back. I screamed and thrashed, until there was no fight left in me. I collapsed like a broken doll, tears streaming down my face.

His screams will haunt my memories for the rest of eternity. My head fell into my hands as I sobbed bitterly. I cried until my vision started to fade, and darkness eased the pain from my forever broken heart.

(A/N - Again, pieces of this chapter HAVE been quoted from Darren Shan's Cirque Du Freak, Book 9, Killers of the Dawn, chapters 13 - 19. I take no credit for the quoted pieces, only the small alterations I had to make to them for them to fit the story. All credit goes to Darren Shan.)