Free Hunters of the Dusk by Darren Shan

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, and 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 that led to vibrant dreams and visions. He believed the future was mapped out in our dreams, and if we learned to understand 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 had no use 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 said. “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 said with a sniff.
    “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 said, grinning. “That’s more like it.”
    He circled me, eyes on mine, fingers flexing slowly. I kept the tip of my sword low until he stopped, then moved toward 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 that 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 said, 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