MR CREPSLEY's ankle had improved vastly by the time we left the silo to face our destiny. His flesh was still a nasty shade of purple, but the worst of the swelling had died down. He tested the ankle as little as possible during our trek through the tunnels, but was able to stand unassisted when he had to.
There was no fuss about our descent into the menacing darkness. When the time came, we simply walked down the stairs of the silo, broke out through a boarded-up door, found a manhole, slipped beneath the streets and advanced. We didn't encounter any vampaneze or traps.
We said nothing during the journey. Each of us knew how serious this was, and the odds stacked against us. Victory was unlikely, and even if it came, escape seemed impossible. If we managed to kill the Lord of the Vampaneze, his followers would surely cut us down in revenge, their hands no longer tied by the prophecies of Mr Tiny. We were marching to our doom, and tongues have a tendency to seize up at such times, regardless of how brave you might be.
After a long, uneventful journey, we reached the newly built tunnels, dry and warm in comparison to the older links, and from there it was only a short walk to the cavern where we'd faced the vampaneze less than twenty-four hours ago.
Twenty-four hours - It felt like years!
Several burning candles were set in nooks around the walls, and their light revealed an apparently deserted cavern. The bodies of the vampaneze we'd killed the night before had been dragged away, though drying pools of their blood remained. The huge door at the other side of the cavern was closed.
"Tread carefully," Mr Crepsley said, pausing at the entrance. "Hold your weapons low and?"
He stopped abruptly and his face fell. Clearing his throat, he said in a surprisingly meek voice, "Did either of you bring a weapon?"
"Of course?" I began, then stopped as suddenly as Mr Crepsley had, my hand flying to my waist, where my sword would normally be nesting. But not now. I'd abandoned it when I was arrested, and with all that had happened since then, it had never occurred to me to replace it.
"Um - you're not going to believe this ?" I mumbled.
"You forgot too?" Mr Crepsley groaned.
We looked appealingly at Harkat.
The Little Person shook his neckless grey head. "Sorry."
"Brilliant!" Mr Crepsley snapped. "The most important fight of our lives, and we come unarmed. What manner of fools are we?"
"The greatest who ever stalked the shadows of the night," said someone from within the cavern.
Freezing, we stared into the gloom, our fingers twitching helplessly by our sides. Then a head popped into view from above the doorway and our hearts sank back in our chests. "Vancha!" we cheered.
"The one and only," grinned the Prince. He swung around from where he'd been hanging from the ceiling. Landing on his feet, he turned to greet us. Harkat and I hurried forward and embraced the scruffy, smelly man with the dyed green hair and animal hides. Vancha's huge eyes widened with surprise. Then his small mouth split into a smile. "Sappy idiots," he chuckled, hugging us back. He stuck his arms out to Mr Crepsley. "Haven'tyou got a hug for me, Larten, old buddy?" he croaked.
"You know where you can insert your hug," Mr Crepsley retorted.
"Oh, the ingratitude," Vancha moaned, then let us go and took a step back, beckoning us forward into the cavern. "Is it true what I overheard?" he asked. "You came without weapons?"
"We have had a difficult afternoon," Mr Crepsley sniffed, ears reddening.
"It must have been the most bloody awful afternoon in history if you forgot to come armed to the scrap of the century," Vancha chuckled, then grew serious. "Did you get away OK? Any unpleasantness?"
"Our breakout was relatively easy," Mr Crepsley said. "There were some sticky moments along the way - it has been a long time since I had to flee a wrathful mob - but all things considered, we fared rather splendidly. Our captors, however, were not so fortunate ?"
He told Vancha about Steve and the guards and nurses he'd killed. Vancha's red face - he'd been engaged in a private duel with the sun for many decades - darkened when he heard the news. "That one is aptly nicknamed," he growled. "If ever a human was bonded at the soul with a leopard, it's him. I just pray to the gods that I have a chance to slit his throat tonight."
"You'll have to get in line," I said. Nobody laughed - they knew I wasn't joking.
"Anyway," Vancha boomed, "one point of order at a time. I don't mind taking the vampaneze on empty-handed - it's my preferred method of fighting - but you three will need more than your fists and feet if we're to stand any chance of getting out of this alive. Luckily, Uncle Vancha has been busy. Follow me."