فصل 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BULLETS POUNDEDthe platform, railing, wall and ceiling. The three men caught in the line of fire clucked backwards quickly, but not quickly enough — one of the bullets struck the Vampaneze Lord high in his right shoulder, drawing an arc of blood and a sharp cry of pain!

At their Lord’s cry, the vampaneze and vampets exploded with rage. Screaming and howling like mad animals, they launched themselves en masse at the Chief Inspector, who was still firing. Barrelling over one another in their haste to be first upon her, they descended upon Burgess in a vicious, churning wave, breaking over Harkat and Debbie along the way.

My first instinct was to rush to Debbie and pull her from the crush, but Vancha grabbed me before I could move and pointed to the rope — it was no longer guarded.

I knew immediately that this was our first priority. Debbie would have to fend for herself.

“Who goes?” I gasped, as we hurried to the stake.

“Me,” Vancha said, grabbing the rope.

“No,” Mr Crepsley disagreed, laying a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “It must be me.” “We don’t have time to—” Vancha started.

“That is true,” Mr Crepsley interrupted. “We do not have time. So let me pass without any arguments.” “Larten …” Vancha growled.

“He’s right,” I said softly. “It has to be him.”

Vancha gawped at me. “Why?”

“Because Steve was my best friend and Gannen’s your brother,” I explained. “Mr Crepsley’s the only one who can concentrate wholly on the Vampaneze Lord. You or I would have one eye on Steve or Gannen, no matter how hard we tried to ignore them.” Vancha thought about that, nodded and let go of the rope, clearing the way for Mr Crepsley. “Give them hell, Larten,” he said.

“I will,” Mr Crepsley smiled. He took hold of the rope and started across.

“We must cover him from this side,” Vancha said, drawing a handful of shurikens and squinting up at the platform.

“I know,” I said, eyes on the thrashing vampaneze ahead of me, ready to combat them when they awoke to the threat of Mr Crepsley’s challenge.

One of the trio on the platform must have spotted Mr Crepsley, because Vancha suddenly let fly with a couple of throwing stars — he had a clear shot at them from where we were standing — and I heard a curse above as whoever it was jumped back out of the way of the shurikens.

There was a pause, then a roar which filled the cavern and cut through the cries and mayhem of the battling vampaneze. “Servants of the night!” Gannen Harst bellowed. “Look to your Lord! Danger approaches!” Heads turned and eyes fixed, first on the platform, then on the rope and Mr Crepsley. With fresh yelps and gasps, the vampaneze and vampets spun and rushed towards the spot where Vancha and I were standing.

If there hadn’t been quite so many, they’d have mown us down, but their numbers worked against them. Too many attacked at the same time, resulting in confusion and chaos. So, instead of facing a solid wall of warriors, we were able to pick off individuals.

As I swung my sword wildly and Vancha lashed out with his hands, I spotted Gannen Harst stealing towards the end of the platform where the rope was tied, a sharp dagger in his right hand. It didn’t take a genius to work out his intentions. I roared at Vancha, warning him, but there was no room for him to turn and throw. I shouted at Mr Crepsley to hurry up, but he was still a long way from safety and could go no faster than he was already going.

As Harst reached the rope and prepared to cut it, someone fired at him. He ducked low and rolled back out of the way as bullets turned the air red around him.

Standing on my toes, I spotted a bruised, battered, but still living Alice Burgess, on her feet, rifle in hand, quickly reloading it with bullets she’d snatched from Morgan James. Just ahead of her stood Harkat Mulds and Debbie Hemlock; Harkat wielding his axe, Debbie awkwardly swinging a short sword, both of them protecting the Chief Inspector from the handful of vampaneze and vampets who hadn’t been drawn away to deal with the rope.

I felt like cheering aloud at the sight, and would have if a vampaneze hadn’t crashed into my back and knocked me to the ground. As I rolled away from stomping feet, the vampaneze dived after me. Pinning me to the floor, he wrapped his fingers around my neck and squeezed. I lashed out at him but he had the beating of me — I was finished!

But the luck of the vampires was on my side. Before his fingers could close and crush my throat, one of his own men was punched by Vancha, fell back, collided with the vampaneze on top of me, and knocked him off. As he yelled, frustrated, I leapt to my feet, grabbed a mace which someone had dropped in the fighting, and let him have it full in the face. The vampaneze dropped, screaming, and I was back in the thick of the fighting.

I saw a vampet swing an axe at the rope tied to the stake. Roaring, I threw the mace at him, but too late— the head of the axe cut clean through the strands of the rope, severing it entirely. My eyes darted to where Mr Crepsley was hanging, and my insides clenched as he swung down underneath the platform, through the red flames of the pit, which still burnt brightly. It seemed to take an age for the rope to reach the length of its arc and swing back towards me. When it did, the vampire was no longer in sight, and my heart dropped. Then my eyes slid down and I realized he was still clinging to the rope, but had slipped a few metres. As flames licked the undersides of his feet, he began climbing again, and within a couple of seconds was clear of the fire and back on course for the platform.

A quick-minded vampet broke clear of the mêlée, raised a crossbow and fired at Mr Crepsley. He missed. Before he could fire again, I found a spear and sent it soaring. It struck him in the upper right arm and he fell to his knees, moaning.

I glanced to where Burgess was firing again, covering Mr Crepsley as he climbed. Debbie was struggling with a vampet twice her size. She’d thrown her arms around him so he couldn’t use his sword and had buried a knife in the small of his back. She was raking his face with her nails, and putting her left knee to very naughty use. Not bad for an English teacher!

Harkat, meanwhile, was chopping vampaneze and vampets to pieces. The Little Person was an experienced, lethal fighter, much stronger and faster than he looked. Many vampaneze charged him, expecting to swat him to one side — none lived to write their memoirs.

Then, as Harkat dispatched another vampet with an almost casual swing of his axe, there was a loud, animal-like cry, and a furious R.V. entered the fray. He’d been trapped in the middle of a crowd of vampaneze, unable to join the fighting. Now at last he broke free, fixed on Harkat, and bore down upon him, hooks glinting and teeth gnashing. Tears of rage trickled from his mismatched eyes. “Kill you!” he roared. “Kill you! Kill you! Kill!” He brought the hooks on his left hand down on Harkat’s head, but the Little Person ducked out of the way and clubbed the hooks aside with the flat of his axe. R.V. swung his other set of hooks towards Harkat’s stomach. Harkat brought his free hand down in the nick of time and caught R.V.’s arm above the elbow, stopping the tips of the hooks less than a centimetre from the flesh of his midriff. As R.V. screamed and spat at Harkat, the Little Person calmly grabbed the straps attaching the hooks to R.V.’s arm, ripped them loose and tossed the hook-hand away.

R.V. shrieked as though stabbed, and punched Harkat with the stump at the end of his elbow. Harkat took no notice, only reached up, caught hold of R.V.’s other hook-hand, and ripped that off too.

” NO!!!” R.V. screeched, diving after the hooks. “My hands! My hands!” R.V. recovered the hooks, but couldn’t strap them back on without help. He yelled at his comrades to assist him, but they had troubles of their own. He was still screaming when Alice Burgess lowered her rifle and stared at the platform. Turning to see what she was looking at, I saw Mr Crepsley climb over the railing, and I too relaxed.

All eyes gradually drifted to the platform and the battle died down. When people saw Mr Crepsley standing on the platform, they stopped fighting and fixed upon the scene, sensing as I did that our squabbles were no longer relevant — the only fight that mattered was the one about to take place overhead.

When everyone was still, a strange silence settled on us, which lasted a minute or more. Mr Crepsley stood at his end of the platform, impassive, while his three opponents stood just as sentry-like at theirs. Finally, as the hairs on the back of my neck were beginning to lie down — they’d been standing up stiff since the start of the battle — the Lord of the Vampaneze stepped forward to the railing, lowered his hood, faced those of us on the ground, and spoke.