soon to be Prince – but many vampires in the mountain did. Kurda didn’t like fighting or war, and believed in making peace with the vampaneze. To a lot of vampires, that was unthinkable.
A guard called my name and I stepped forward, past the circular benches to the platform where the thrones of the Princes were situated. Vanez stood just behind me, while Mr Crepsley stayed in his seat — only Trials tutors were allowed to accompany contestants to the platform.
Paris Skyle, a white-haired, grey-bearded Prince – he was also the oldest living vampire – asked if I was willing to accept whatever Trial came my way. I said I was. He announced to the Hall in general that the Period of Preparation had been invoked, and that some Trials had been withdrawn, on account of my size and youth. He asked if anyone objected. Mika Ver Leth – who’d suggested the Trials – looked unhappy about the concessions, and picked irritably at the folds of his black shirt, but said nothing. “Very well,” Paris declared. “We shall draw the first Trial.”
A bag of numbered stones was brought forward by a green-uniformed guard. I’d been told that there were seventeen stones in it, each with its own individual number. Each number corresponded to a Trial, and the one I picked would be the Trial I’d have to face.
The guard shook the bag and asked if anyone wanted to examine the stones. One of the Generals raised a hand. This was common practice – the stones were always examined – so I didn’t worry about it, just focused on the floor and tried to stop the nervous rumblings of my belly.
When the stones had been checked and approved, the guard shook them up once more, then held the bag out to me. Closing my eyes, I dipped in a hand, grabbed the first stone I touched, and drew it out. “Number eleven,” the guard shouted. “The Aquatic Maze.”
The vampires in the Hall mumbled softly among themselves.
“Is that good or bad?” I asked Vanez while the stone was taken up for the Princes to verify.
“It depends,” he said. “Are you able to swim?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s as good a first Trial as any. Things could have been worse.”
Once the stone had been checked and placed aside so that it couldn’t be drawn again, Paris told me that I would be expected to report for the Trial at dusk tomorrow. He wished me luck – he said business would keep him away, though one of the other Princes would be present – then dismissed me. Leaving the Hall, I hurried away with Vanez and Mr Crepsley to prepare for my first testing brush with death.
CHAPTER THREE
THE AQUATIC Maze was man-made, built with a low ceiling and watertight walls. There were four doors in and out of it, one in each of its four external walls. From the centre, where I would be left, it normally took five or six minutes to find your way out, assuming you didn’t get lost.
But in the Trial, you had to drag around a heavy rock – half your weight – which slowed you down. With the rock, eight or nine minutes was good going.
But as well as the rock, there was the water to contend with. As soon as the Trial commenced, the maze started to fill with water, which was pumped in via hoses from underground streams. The water slowed you down even more, and navigating the maze usually took about a quarter of an hour. If it took longer, you were in serious trouble — because the maze filled to the top in seventeen minutes exactly.
“It’s vital not to panic,” Vanez said. We were down in one of the practice mazes, a smaller replica of the Aquatic Maze. The route wasn’t the same – the walls of the Aquatic Maze could be moved around, so the maze was different each time – but it served as a good learning experience. “Most who fail in the Maze do so because they panic,” he went on. “It can be frightening when the water rises and the going gets slower and tougher. You have to fight that fear and concentrate on the route. If you let the water distract you, you’ll lose your bearings — and then you’re finished.”
We spent the early part of the night walking through the maze, over and over, Vanez teaching me how to make a map inside my head. “Each wall of the maze looks the same,” he said, “but they aren’t. There are identifying marks — a discoloured stone, a jagged bit of floor, a crack. You must note these small differences and build your map from them. That way, if you find yourself in a passage where you’ve already been, you’ll recognize it and can immediately start looking for a new way out, wasting no time in the process.”
I spent hours learning how to make mental maps of the maze. It was a lot harder than it sounds. The first few passages were easy to remember – a chipped stone in the top left corner of one, a moss-covered stone in the floor of the next, a knobbly stone in the ceiling of the one after that – but the further on I got, the more I had to remember, and the more confusing it became. I had to find something new in every corridor, because if I used a mark which was similar to one I’d committed to memory already, I’d get the two confused and would wind up chasing my tail around.
“You’re not concentrating!” Vanez snapped when I came to a standstill for the seventh or eighth time in quick succession.
“I’m trying,” I grumbled, “but it’s hard.”
“Trying isn’t good enough,” he barked. “You have to tune out all other thoughts. Forget the Trials and the water and what will happen if you fail. Forget about dinner and breakfast and whatever else is distracting you. Think only about the maze. It must fill your thoughts completely, or you’re doomed.”
It wasn’t easy, but I gave it my best shot, and within an hour had improved considerably. Vanez was right — cutting off all other trains of thought was the solution. It was boring, wandering through a maze for hours on end, but that boredom was what I had to learn to appreciate. In the Aquatic Maze, excitement could confuse and kill me.
Once my map-making skills were up to scratch, Vanez wrapped a long rope round my waist and attached a rock to the other end. “This rock is only a quarter of your weight,” he said. “We’ll try you with a heavier rock later, but I don’t want to tire you out too much ahead of the Trial. We’ll get you accustomed to this one first, move up to a rock that’s a third your weight, then try you on the real thing for a short spell, to give you a taste of how it feels.”
The rock wasn’t especially heavy – as a half-vampire, I was much stronger than a human – but it was a nuisance. Apart from slowing me down, it also had a nasty habit of catching on corners or in cracks, which meant I had to stop and free it. “It’s important to stop the instant you feel it snagging,” Vanez said. “Your natural instinct will be to tug on the rope and free it quickly, but more often than not that worsens the situation, and you wind up taking even longer to sort it out. Seconds are vital in the maze. It’s better to act methodically and lose four or five seconds freeing yourself, than act hastily and lose ten or twenty.”
There were ways to stop the rock and rope from snagging so much. When I came to corners or bends, I had to seize the rope and pull the rock in close to me — that way it was less likely to get stuck. And it was helpful to give the rope a shake every few seconds — that kept it loose. “But you have to do these things automatically,” Vanez said. “You must do them without pausing to think. Your brain should be fully occupied with mapping the maze. Everything else must be done by instinct.”
“It’s useless,” I groaned, sinking to the floor. “It’d take months to get ready for this. I haven’t a hope in hell.”
“Of course you have!” Vanez roared. Squatting beside me, he poked me in the ribs. “Feel that?” he asked, jabbing a sharp finger into the soft flesh of my belly.
“Ow!” I slapped his hand away. “Quit it!”
“It’s sharp?” he asked, jabbing me again. “It hurts?”
“Yes!”