shed light on the subject,” Mr Crepsley said. “She shares some of Mr Tiny’s powers and can sense the paths of the future. She might be able to confirm or dismiss his predictions.”
“If so, I’ll believe her,” Vancha said. “Evanna guards her tongue closely, but when she speaks, she speaks the truth. If she says our destiny lies on the road, I’ll gladly pitch in with you. If not…” He shrugged and let the matter rest.
Vancha March was weird – and that was putting it mildly! I’d never met anyone like him. He had a code all of his own. As I already knew, he wouldn’t eat cooked meat or drink anything but fresh water, milk and blood, and he made his clothes from the hides of animals he hunted. But I learnt much more about him during the six nights it took us to reach Lady Evanna’s.
He followed the old ways of the vampires. Long ago, vampires believed that we were descended from wolves. If we lived good lives and stayed true to our beliefs, we’d become wolves again when we died and roam the wilds of Paradise as spirit creatures of the eternal night. To that end, they lived more like wolves than humans, avoiding civilization except when they had to drink blood, making their own clothes, following the laws of the wild.
Vancha wouldn’t sleep in a coffin – he said they were too comfortable! He thought a vampire should sleep on open ground, covering himself with no more than his cloak. He respected vampires who used coffins but had a very low opinion of those who slept in beds. I didn’t dare tell him about my preference for hammocks!
He had a great interest in dreams, and often ate wild mushrooms which led to vibrant dreams and visions. He believed the future was mapped out in our dreams, and if we learnt to decipher them, we could control our destinies. He was fascinated by Harkat’s nightmares and spent many long hours discussing them with the Little Person.
The only weapons he used were his shurikens (the throwing stars), which he carved himself from various metals and stones. He thought hand to hand combat should be exactly that – fought with one’s hands. He’d no time for swords, spears or axes and refused to touch them.
“But how can you fight someone who has a sword?” I asked one evening as we were getting ready to break camp. “Do you run?”
“I run from nothing!” he replied sharply. “Here – let me show you.” Rubbing his hands together, he stood opposite me and told me to draw my sword. When I hesitated, he slapped my left shoulder and jeered. “Afraid?”
“Of course not,” I snapped. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”
He laughed out loud. “There’s not much fear of that, is there, Larten?”
“I would not be so sure,” Mr Crepsley demurred. “Darren is only a half-vampire but he is sharp. He could test you, Vancha.”
“Good,” the Prince said. “I relish worthy opponents.”
I looked pleadingly at Mr Crepsley. “I don’t want to draw on an unarmed man.”
“Unarmed?” Vancha shouted. “I have two arms!” He waved them at me.
“Go ahead,” Mr Crepsley said. “Vancha knows what he is doing.”
Pulling out my sword, I faced Vancha and made a half-hearted lunge. He didn’t move. Simply watched as I pulled the tip of my sword up short.
“Pathetic,” he sniffed.
“This is stupid,” I told him. “I’m not–”
Before I could say anything else, he darted forward, seized me by the throat and made a small, painful cut across my neck with his nails.
“Ow!” I yelled, stumbling away from him.
“Next time I’ll cut your nose off,” he said pleasantly.
“No you won’t!” I growled and swung at him with my sword, properly this time.
Vancha ducked clear of the arc of the blade. “Good,” he grinned. “That’s more like it.”
He circled me, eyes on mine, fingers flexing slowly. I kept the tip of my sword low, until he came to a halt, then moved towards him and jabbed. I expected him to shift aside, but instead he brought the palm of his right hand up and swiped the blade away, as he would a flat stick. As I struggled to bring it back around, he stepped in, caught hold of my hand above the wrist, gave a sharp twist which caused me to release the sword – and I was weaponless.
“See?” he smiled, stepping back and raising his hands to show the fight was at an end. “If this was for real, your ass would be grass.” Vancha had a foul mouth – that was one of his tamest insults!
“Big deal,” I sulked, rubbing my sore wrist. “You beat a half-vampire. You couldn’t win against a full-vampire or a vampaneze.”
“I can and have,” he insisted. “Weapons are tools of fear, used by those who are afraid. One who learns to fight with his hands always has the advantage over those who rely on swords and knives. Know why?”
“Why?”
“Because they expect to win,” he beamed. “Weapons are false – they’re not of nature – and inspire false confidence. When I fight, I expect to die. Even now, when I sparred with you, I anticipated death and resigned myself to it. Death is the worst this world can throw at you, Darren – if you accept it, it has no power over you.”
Picking up my sword, he handed it to me and watched to see what I’d do. I had the feeling he wanted me to cast it aside – and I was tempted to, to earn his respect. But I’d have felt naked without it, so I slid it back into its sheath and glanced down at the ground, slightly ashamed.
Vancha clasped the back of my neck and squeezed amiably. “Don’t let it bother you,” he said. “You’re young. You have loads of time to learn.” His eyes creased as he thought about Mr Tiny and the Lord of the Vampaneze, and he added gloomily, “I hope.”
I asked Vancha to teach me how to fight bare-handed. I’d studied unarmed combat in Vampire Mountain, but that had been against opponents who were also unarmed. Apart from a few lessons regarding what to do if I lost my weapon during battle, I’d never been taught how to take on a fully armed foe using only my hands. Vancha said it would take years to master, and I could expect lots of nicks and bruises while learning. I waved away such concerns – I loved the thought of being able to best an armed vampaneze with my bare hands.
Training couldn’t start on the trail, but Vancha talked me through a few basic blocking tactics when we rested by day, and promised to give me a real work out when we got to Evanna’s.
The Prince would tell me no more about the witch than Mr Crepsley had, though he did say she was both the fairest and least attractive of women – which made no sense at all!
I thought Vancha would be strongly anti-vampaneze – the vampires who despised vampaneze the most were normally those steeped in the old ways – but to my surprise he had nothing against them. “Vampaneze are noble and true,” he said a couple of nights before we reached Evanna’s. “I don’t agree with their feeding habits – there’s no need to kill when we drink – but otherwise I admire them.”
“Vancha nominated Kurda Smahlt to become a Prince,” Mr Crepsley remarked.
“I
