I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin
Chapter Eight

Auric was fortunate that I was present to take charge of things. His initial reaction was to run, which would have soon been the death of him. Instead I fought to hold him in place, calming the panic in his mind with patient reason.
It is only a dream. Give up full control of yourself to me and you will live to wake. Thus did I whisper into his stunned mind.
His reply was faint but affirmative. Perhaps he had no better idea of how to face this dream turned nightmare. It was as well for him that he was so cooperative. So far did he go in giving in to my wish that I almost felt fused to him in a strange way. We were separate beings seeming to share one body and for the moment he was allowing me to fully use it.
The monstrosities were apparently more accustomed to facing a surprised foe paralyzed with terror than a trained warrior ready and willing to attack with the same heartless ferocity of which they were capable. Growling, rolling their eyes, and flashing their teeth might give them the advantage with anyone else, but not with me. I kept worse things in the castle dungeons as pets.
The first moved toward us, taking its time or so it seemed in my reckoning. When the blood rage of battle is on me, my perception of events alters. Auric's body, responding to my urgent influence, stepped forward and used the sword for the purpose for which it was best designed, cutting the goblyn in half at the waist.
It took more effort than I'd anticipated, but then Auric was not as strong as I would be were I there. Nonetheless, we didn't pause, and on the return sweep our blade rendered the same grisly service to the next one that dared approach.
The rest had little reaction to the demise of their fellows. From what the Vistani have told me, goblyns are created creatures, subject to the will of their master without much brain of their own. It is both a weakness and a strength; they aren't clever, but that makes them too stupid to retreat. The only way to stop them is to kill them, or if their master calls off the attack himself.
This spun through my mind as we killed two more. It was all the rest would allow as they rushed to close their circle around us. Retreating, we hurriedly leaped over the fresh bodies, reached the edge of the clearing to put our back to a tree, then I had Auric call for the wolves.
My children joyfully darted from their cover, their full throated snarls more than drowning out the cries of our common enemy. While they provided distraction, we waded into the slaughter, stabbing a goblyn and taking its short sword away. A second weapon doubled our effectiveness, but one of them clubbed us and another swiped a claw at our left flank, connecting. Auric felt the impacts but I paid little attention, being too busy keeping him in motion to pause.
Whenever one fell another took its place, but their numbers were finite, and they were hard pressed to deal with both Auric and the wolves. The latter did not seem to hold their interest. A goblyn, being dragged to the ground by three wolves, still futilely tried to reach out for us, even as it was being torn to shreds. We cut our way through two more, but I felt Auric slowing. His body was reaching its physical limit. His breath sawed in painful gasps, and he was losing muscle control. The goblyn with the club got in another strike, this time cracking it solidly down on Auric's left arm. He could not help dropping the blade. The goblyn tried for another strike, and if the wolves had not gone for the thing just in time, we might have come to grief then and there.
There were some five or six left, and Auric was fast nearing exhaustion. It made it more difficult for me to order him about. Our link through my hypnosis and the amulet was beginning to waver. I forced him to use his injured arm to fish out the copper wand, then actually spare a look at his hand to see if the wand was in the grip of his numbed fingers. With his breath almost gone, it was hard to make him speak the necessary words of summoning. I thought he had botched it, but suddenly saw a flare of light as the energies stored in the wand obediently lashed forth, hurling themselves against their targets, engulfing them.
Screams. Earsplitting, twisting, agonized screeches - And then it was all over except for the stink of burned flesh.
Auric fell back against the tree for support, panting like my wolves, who had had the sense to dodge out of the way when they saw the daylight bright glow forming around his left hand. They were quite clear of the area when the blue and purple flames licked out to envelop the remaining goblyns. For a few moments the grove was lighted by the malignant blaze of pure magical power as it ate the damned things to the bone. It burned itself out just as quickly, leaving behind charred corpses and a thick drift of black smoke.
The fire blinded us both for a short time. In the mine I blinked in frustration, until the afterimages of the goblyn's writhing forms finally started to fade from the crystal, and I could make out the shapes of my wolves milling about.
None of them seemed to be seriously hurt, which astonished me. If the Vistani rumors of them were correct, goblyns are deadly with their slashing claws, and their usual form of attack is to grasp one's neck and start tearing into your face with their long teeth. They supposedly subsisted on raw flesh and were not above cannibalism, though unwary hermits had apparently been the preferred diet for this mob.
Druids might also be included, if they had allowed themselves to be captured.
Auric's fellows were not the only ones inhabiting this forest to judge by this grove. He had made no mention of them, and I had specifically asked if anyone else dwelled in Forlorn. He was honestly ignorant of their presence. That was not too surprising. If the druids were as reclusive a lot as I remembered from Qwilym's tale, they could be as evasive as shadows.
The other mystery was why the goblyns had not been more forceful in their attack. Auric, even with me controlling his moves and with the help of the wolves, was still no match for a dozen of them. If they had really wanted to kill they should have succeeded. Therefore their master desired a prisoner, not a half-eaten carcass, which left the questions of who their master might be and how he'd known to send his servants.
The latter seemed to have a ready answer: perhaps the lord of this tiny country was as aware of intruders entering as I was for my own land. Was he like me, a child of the night? Or perhaps another lich like Azalin? Charming thought. Dare I hope that he was also trapped within his borders? Certainly I could hope, but I would prepare for the worst just in case. Yes, there were decided advantages to being a pessimist.
The castle Auric mentioned seemed as good a place as any to start looking into things, but I wasn't certain where it was. Oh, to be able to transform into a bat for a real view of the forest, not to mention leaving behind the distracting hurts Auric had collected. His arm throbbed mightily, a bruised bone perhaps, and the clawing he had taken burned like fire. He was becoming harder and harder to influence, to convince him that this was an unpleasant dream. He kept shaking his head, saying he wanted to wake up and leave.
A good idea, that. For all I knew a second lot of the disgusting creatures might this moment be on their way to deal with his intrusion. My grip on Auric was weakening by the minute, but I hated having to leave behind the dead goblyns.
Portions of them could prove useful as components for certain kinds of spellwork, and the waste was galling. Perhaps I could hire people to cross the border and bring back a body or two. My wolves were making immediate profit from several of them already - as a change from preying on sheep and the occasional shepherd, I supposed.
The more I thought on it the greater my annoyance grew. I might as well get something tangible out of this expedition for all this trouble. Tired as Auric was, he could take at least one of the smaller ones along.
With considerable coaxing I had him pick out a corpse with a straight heart wound and order the wolves to pull it from the grove. I didn't want any protective magic lingering there to interfere with my spell. I told him to raise the wand directly over head and gave him the word to activate its stored travel incantation with the instruction to return himself and his burden to the mine.
He, along with the dead goblyn, appeared just outside the entrance, much to the surprise of the wolves there. I wasn't worried about the wolves left in Forlorn; they could find their way home easily enough. Those that welcomed him now sniffed with fierce curiosity at the goblyn, but through him I ordered them off before they decided to make a meal of it. My complete control over Auric was suddenly back. He was within Barovia again. Not that I had any further use for him.
A wave of weariness swept over him. Damn his weak human body. I relinquished my hold on his mind. The last fleeting glimpse I had through the amulet was the ground rushing up to meet him as he collapsed.
I was Strahd once more, looking through my own eyes. And I was decidedly uncomfortable in this cramped alcove. Something weighed me down as well, lots of somethings. I shifted slightly, stirring them, and they squeaked and chittered nervously, trying to hang onto their new perch. Baffling for a moment, then I understood that hundreds of bats covered me toe-to-chin like a living blanket.
It almost made me laugh. Very devoted of them to be sure, trying to keep me warm.
Simply standing up might crush some of them, so I avoided the problem by dissolving into mist form. They were discommoded anyway to tell by their surprised protests as their bed suddenly vanished. As I drifted toward the entry, I sensed them skittering and flapping around the cave chamber on their way back up to the roof.
I continued on until feeling the push of outside air and resumed man-form again at the mine opening. I was grateful to be controlling my own strong body once more, free of Auric's slow reactions and other defects of mortality. The wolves snuffled at Auric's body but left him alone. Apparently any friend of Strahd's was a friend to them. The cubs were playfully crawling on top of him, tongues lolling as if with laughter.
He didn't once stir at their antics nor when I reclaimed my copper wand and the used up amulet. I would just have to create another. As for how Auric would deal with his too vivid dream and mysterious injuries, he was on his own. Lord Vasili had paid him well for services rendered; he wasn't obliged to hang about to answer questions.
This scouting foray had been all too brief and damaging - at least to Auric - but instructive. I knew what had been killing the hermits and would have to turn my crystal in the direction of Forlorn to try to discover who controlled the goblyns. I needed to know whether the things would be crossing the border in the future and be ready for it. If once the damned creatures got into Barovia, they would infest the mountains like roaches in a pantry and there would be no end of trouble - unless I could find a way to control them myself. But I would rather not have to try as it would take time and effort away from my work with Azalin.
Until I knew more I would send word to the boyars about this possible threat.
The peasants were good at locking themselves in at night, but even the best stout door and bolts would not be enough against a determined hoard of goblyns.
I would have to tell the Vistani and use them as scouts. Border checkpoints would have to be set up, with people to man them. That would give the boyars something constructive to do with their excess energy.
I would have to attempt another traveling spell to get home. Though my body was unfatigued, the last few hours had been quite exhausting mentally. The charge in the wand was gone, so I would have to summon the magic myself. This would fatigue me more, but not as much as having to physically haul that goblyn's damned stinking body over half of Barovia. With a sigh, I ordered the wolves out of the way and began the casting.
***
The effort was worth it; I made quite an entrance sweeping into my study - Azalin was there poring over the books - to drop the dead goblyn on the cold hearth stones.
My guest kept a carefully neutral expression on his illusionary face, but he was definitely surprised. Normally nothing could distract him from his researches, but he stopped everything to come over for a look.
"Making a change in your usual diet?" he inquired, nudging its arm with his booted toe.
"Hardly, but there has been a major change in Barovia."
It never occurred to me to keep this information to myself; it was far too important to our mutual goal. He was reluctant to accept the truth of Forlorn's existence at first, but took the inarguable presence of the goblyn's body as very immediate proof. He knew I never tolerated such vermin in Barovia; I had far superior servants to control whose feeding habits weren't in competition with my own. Once past this initial obstacle of disbelief, he settled into full-blown analysis of the situation.
We talked the remains of the night speculating about Forlorn and its implications to our work, but we couldn't get very far for lack of basic information. At dawn Azalin planned to depart for the new border and study it in person in an effort to answer all the questions we raised.
Upon awakening the next night I immediately sought my crystal ball and checked on Azalin's progress - though not too closely. He was barely halfway along and must have returned to his manor house for pack horses, equipment, and supplies for an extended stay.
Next I focused on the border, tearing high overland from one end to the other hoping to find some useful clue. All that came to my notice was the fact that the Misty edge of my existence was still in place, only now it enclosed Forlorn.
I then let my memory dredge up the sight of the grove that I might go there again. It proved to be something of a struggle, like trying to take a reluctant horse over a difficult hurdle. The more I insisted the more I was met with opposition. I began to fear that like my body, my Sight would not be able to cross the boundaries of Barovia.
I kept at it until my eyes blurred and my head swam with the effort. Just as I was about to give up, the breakthrough came. A bright light flared and died in the crystal, and within its depths the grove was visible but rippling as though it lay at the bottom of a stream. It gradually steadied and grew stronger, and I shut my eyes to allow my inner vision to take me there. Rather than a tiny picture, it seemed that I stood in the midst of the grove and could look about me. The view was imperfect, but better than not being there at all.
Nothing had changed much since the previous night. A few goblyn bodies which had managed to escape the consuming flames still littered the ground, though many had been plundered for food by my wolves and other scavengers. Curiosity satisfied, I rose high over the fly-infested pile until I was above the trees and saw the castle Auric had mentioned. It was but a few miles west by a small lake, and his assessment of it as an evil place looked to be accurate. It was nowhere close to the faded grandeur of my own domicile, but it still possessed a distinct gloominess of aspect that belied its smaller size.
The design was of a style strange to me, for though I could pick out towers and walls, their relation to each other seemed to have nothing to do with the art of defense. Archers' windows were placed in the wrong spots to be of any use, and the battlements, such as they were, appeared to be for decorative purposes only.
The curtain wall looked strong enough, but it wouldn't last a week against a determined siege. What sort of lord ruled such a careless collection of stones as this?
I soared in my mind's eye over the useless wall and down into the main courtyard, finding a continuance of the odd architecture but no evidence of occupation. Approaching the main entrance to the castle itself I studied the door lintel, discerning a single word carved into the stone: Tristenoira.
Whether that was the name of the castle or the family that raised it or both was impossible to say. I entered, seeming to float through the door, and looked about the inner hall, seeing only shadows and dusty furnishings. Some faded portraits hung from the walls, again in an unfamiliar artistic style, the clothing of the subjects suggestive of a different cultural source than Barovia's.
A quick sweep through the rest of the place turned up more of the same and no occupants, though that meant nothing. Sight is a useful, but limited sense, showing what is before you, but nothing else. Someone or something controlled the goblyns, but it deigned not to reveal itself. Perhaps on some future night I might find it instructive to hypnotize another man, through an amulet around his neck, and visit this Tristenoira by proxy. There were bound to be impressions that one could gather only by being there, but I could wait for Azalin to finish his investigations.
He initially stayed in various spots along the border, methodically sifting through every imaginable detail and a few others besides, conducting test after magical test. I watched without interfering as he questioned countless frightened locals, not gaining any satisfactory answers to judge by the chronically disgruntled look upon his visage.
After a week of preliminary study he finally crossed over to explore Forlorn.
Being asleep, I was unable to follow his daytime exploits, but even in my sleep I was aware of whenever he returned to Barovia. It seemed that my link to the land had grown very profound, indeed, to give me this much sensitivity. If there was a ruler controlling Forlorn - which was likely however shy he was about showing himself - then did he also have this ability? Perhaps so, considering the swiftness of the goblyn attack on Auric.
He must have been more cautious about inflicting the same game upon Azalin, though. The moment I shed my daylight stupor, I brought up his image in the crystal to see how he fared. He had apparently been allowed to wander unscathed through the forests to judge by his unconcerned manner.
Then I saw the movement of shadows within the trees. Azalin must have noticed them at the same time and kicked his horse to a gallop, but another pack of the things were well ahead of him and cut him off.
He fought them with formidable magic, killing many, but he lacked the advantage of wolves for allies. The sheer number of goblyns finally got the better of him for a moment, and he was unhorsed. They ignored the panicked beast and clawed at the fallen rider instead. Again, this attempt to take a prisoner.
Azalin tore free, using a spell to cut a path through the press of bodies and fled on foot barely ahead of their gnashing teeth. I did not think they would be able to destroy him, but it was still a most entertaining display to see.
However, it angered me that he was leading the filthy things straight into my land.
As he crossed into Barovia something very interesting occurred. As if in response to my exasperation, a thick white band of fog suddenly swelled out of the clear air, gathered along the invisible line of the border, and rose high.
He didn't notice it at first, being too busy running, but he must have heard it when the goblyns rushed into the stuff, for he risked a backward look.
I sensed them coming in, just as I'd sensed Azalin's entry, and as my anger surged so did the fog. It bloomed around them, engulfing them like a tide. They were soon unable to pursue their quarry, having given up that sport for clutching their throats and choking. Before too long they were writhing on the ground coughing out their last bit of life. The few who tried to return to Forlorn did not make it.
Well, well.
Drawing back my view I saw that the whole length of the border at this point was rife with the fog, which was apparently identical to the poisonous vapor that encircled my castle.
And it was - so far as I could observe - very much under my control. When I thought about the stuff retreating, it did so. It grew larger or smaller at my whim.
The chains that tied me to Barovia had grown yet another link, it seemed, but a most useful one for dealing with breathing enemies. A pity it would not have the same effect on Azalin as it would the goblyns, but poison is fairly useless against those who are already dead.
***
Some days after this incident, Azalin finally returned to his manor house with stacks of exhaustive notes and records of all he'd done. If he guessed that I had anything to do with the fog coming to his timely rescue, he made no mention of it. At the same time I pretended to be ignorant of his overland escape, lest it reveal to him my spying with the crystal. Thus out of a sense of mutual self-preservation were we reduced to such games-playing.
I sifted through the information he had gleaned and could offer no further explanation for the bald reality that a new land had appeared in this plane. How and why it had come to be was not something either of us could answer. Perhaps, like me, its ruler had enacted some magical trip wire the nature of which we did not as yet understand, but that was as far we could carry the speculation. Facts were required and there were damned few of them. Even the Vistani had no insights to offer, though they avoided the place more often than not. It had no population to speak of, and the goblyns made a poor audience for their entertainments. The one good point of it all for me was the knowledge I could close the border to anything that breathed.
Azalin's fascination with Forlorn lasted for less than a month, at which time he decided its appearance, I though interesting, was of no real importance to our situation.
"If we can find out how it came here, then we can find out how to take the same road back," I told him, when he made his announcement to abandon his research.
"Were it as simple as that, then I'd have found it by now," he stated.
"You cannot make assumptions. A few weeks' work is nothing - "
"Not when it is on top of the previous years of effort. Backtracking the way here has been the core of my experiments since I arrived and you well know it.
This road, as you call it, is a dead end."
"You discount it too quickly."
"I know when a line of study is pointless. Pursue it if you wish, but I have other, more promising areas in which to direct my talents."
I might have thought he was trying to discount Forlorn's importance as a means of preventing me from knowing too much but for his driving desire to quit Barovia and return to his home. He was quite obsessive on the subject, so I could trust that, if nothing else about him. This contention was like hundreds of others, part of our ongoing disagreement over the approach of solving the problem of escape.
So he continued with the line he'd been exploring prior to the interruption and again made lengthy and involved preparations. His next experiment at the following summer equinox failed miserably.
As did the next. And the next.