I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin
Chapter Seven

I had to make a conscious effort to remain absolutely still. Keeping every muscle utterly relaxed under the present circumstances required an astonishing amount of willpower when every instinct screamed at me to move. It was a true battle between reflex and resolution, and though precious instinct had saved me often in the past, this time I must not give in to basic impulse.
I managed to hold quite still, inspired by the knowledge that if Azalin found out my deception he would instantly understand that I'd discovered his great secret. And that would be very bad for me.
I heard more sounds from his area of the chamber, the brush of his bones against the stone floor, a ghostly groan. Whether it was an expression of physical or mental distress, I couldn't tell. Could such creatures feel bodily pain in the same sense as other beings? Never before having encountered such a powerful being, I did not know.
After a few moments, I stirred and moaned and let my eyes flutter open in what I hoped would seem a normal manner. Now did I allow myself to look around, doing my best to recreate my initial reaction to the destruction, being careful not to overplay things. When my gaze fell upon Azalin, he was already getting to his feet.
His illusion was firmly in place; he looked the same as ever, except for his gloves, which were gone. Probably torn or burned from his withered hands when -  Stop that right now.
If I started making mental comparisons between the illusion and what I knew to be reality, it would affect my behavior and be a giveaway to him. In all our time together, in all the recollections he'd passed to me, he hadn't once dropped the least hint of his true self, and quite wisely. Had I known, I would never have given him my shelter and protection and would have done my utmost to destroy him.
Perhaps I wasn't animate in the same way as others, but I did retain a spark of true passion within me, and that made me a closer, more willing ally to the living than to this creature. Final death could still ultimately claim one such as myself, but a lich was already dead, a collection of bones existent by the foulest kind of dark magic and its own monumental determination to dwell beyond its normal span of years.
While I still supped with pleasure from life's table, still held my place as a predator in the workings of the world, not so for a lich, who had given up all such pleasures, embracing and at the same time defying death itself for continuance, empty continuance. The cold revulsion Azalin inspired in all who came near him was quite justified.
With all my contact with him I had grown used to that kind of cold, successfully ignoring it. The reaction I had now was not aversion to his physical form so much as the fact that when it came to magic, he as a lich was more than powerful enough to challenge me and win. Indeed, the only thing holding him back from such conquest must have been our bargain, the necessity of our having to work together. That could change, though. It might have changed already with this catastrophic failure. I had to play this out very carefully and not provide him with the least suspicion that his secret was no more, that I had realized my terrible vulnerability to him. His pretense must continue.
Barovia was little enough, but all I had. It was also my only hope of seeing Tatyana live again. To save her, to save that which was mine, I would do anything, even take on the perilous task of trying to destroy Azalin.
But I dared not surrender to that impulse just yet. This was not the time. Even had I been rested and ready for just such a confrontation, i still would have been hard pressed to overcome a being with Azalin's power.
I stood - my limbs surprisingly steady after what I'd been through and what I was currently dealing with -  and surveyed the damaged chamber with him. To continue the pretense that I was still ignorant of the truth I had to react as I would normally, which would be easy enough to emulate, for it was already boiling up inside.
I fastened him with a stony gaze, trying to suppress my rising rage. "What went wrong?" I whispered.
His eyes glowed red, untouched by the fading moonlight coming down from the shattered window. "I don't know yet."
"You must have some idea."
"As you must also."
"What do you mean?"
"I told you to make a severance with the land."
"You cannot blame this disaster on such a flimsy detail."
"You are the one who chose to blind himself to the facts, so yes, I may place the blame for it upon you. I said your tie to the land was too strong to be broken, and this more than proves me correct."
"It wasn't meant to be broken; the breakage was to be the barrier that separates Barovia from its original plane. That was clearly understood."
"By you alone, I gave you fair warning of the foolishness of that theory."
"You said you would compensate."
"I said I would try. I guaranteed nothing."
"Ever the lament for those who fail. All this time wasted, all this effort for naught!"
"Not completely." He turned slightly from me, looking over the remains of his precious laboratory as though nothing were amiss. "Even negative knowledge can be useful."
I choked, not needing to falsify my reaction to his apparent serenity. With the passing of my initial shock it was easy enough for me to fall back into what had become our usual pattern of argument. At this point, had I still been ignorant of his secret, I wouldn't have been able to endure another instant of his company.
Drawing back upon myself - this time unimpeded by the turbulent flux of magicks - I initiated the change and a moment later was airborne, strong wings beating the thick air, lifting me toward the hole blasted into the roof. Part of me half expected that he would try attack while I was in this small and somewhat more vulnerable form, but in my mind I was confident that he was still unaware of my realization. He'd seen me in a temper on several occasions and was used to my leaving in a sudden manner. Such displays weren't likely to affect him. In the past, peering into my crystal, I'd seen him simply continue with whatever he had been doing before the disruption. Presumably that would happen again now, and he would busy himself trying to work out what had gone wrong. I could assume that he would be glad I'd left so that he could freely concentrate on the problem.
The proof of this was his lack of action against me during the next ten seconds.
I was tense all the same until I had cleared the gaping hole. I easily avoided the twists of hot lead framing, and broke away into the clean night air. Now did I purposely exhale, purging my lungs of that pervasive death stench. It seemed to cling to me even in this form, inspiring me to fly faster to escape it. The keen mountain wind flowing from Mount Baratak helped to pare it away.
Swiftly following my black moon-shadow on the ground far below, I arrowed straight for Castle Ravenloft. The land climbed to meet me as I left the manor house in the valley behind. At this point it's easier to go around this high spur of Baratak than over it, but I was in no mood for sparing myself and skimmed dangerously close to its rocky shoulder to save time.
The winds at this elevation are often hazardous and unpredictable, but now they seemed in accord to my will and propelled me forward until I was dizzy from the speed. I rode them like a small raft on wild rapids, but I was in control, keeping upright and holding direction. In less than half the regular time it usually took to travel the distance, I reached the castle and swelled to human form, my feet touching down lightly on the walkway outside my bedroom. I looked back, illogically on guard against pursuit, but nothing marred the moon-bathed sky for miles in any direction.
It meant little. I was far from safe.
I pushed through the outer doors and swept through my otherwise unused bedroom to the inner door leading right to my library and glared at the ranks of book-covered shelves. They were less orderly than I liked since Azalin always plucked them down for use with abandon and rarely returned any back into place, but certain tomes were untouched. I found the one I wanted, dusty and ignored, seized it, and flipped it open, heedless of the stress on its cracking pages.
The chapter I sought was some three quarters of the way through, marked by a distinctive illustration of a creature that closely resembled what I'd just seen in the shambles of the laboratory. I couldn't find it, though, and went over the pages twice before thinking I had picked up the wrong volume. I checked the title. It was correct, matching the one in my memory. This was the right book; it had a whole section devoted to the lore surrounding liches - a section that appeared to be missing.
I carefully examined the spine and binding, but found no crude cutting away of pages. He had made a careful job of it. The contents had been purged, even the page numbers matched up. If I hadn't known it should have been there, not been purposely looking for it, I would never have noticed the alteration. Quite seamless.
Surveying all the other books of my collection I could take it for granted that they had also been subjected to a similar expurgation. He must have begun the process from his very first day here. Angered, I started to fling this one across the room, but caught myself just in time and carefully slid it back into place. I summoned a miniature dust devil to swirl over it and its neighbors so all would appear to be undisturbed. Azalin must get absolutely no clue from me that I'd found him out.
Should he suspect, he would probably take quick and deadly action to try to kill me. I might survive, might even destroy him instead, but I was in desperate need of preparation to guarantee it.
I needed to know more. There was but one other unlikely source of information left to me in the castle. I quit the library and sought my daylight sanctuary in the crypts far below. Here, in one of the most secure refuges I had ever constructed, I kept certain important spell and magical books hidden from him, along with my personal journal. So far as I knew he had no idea of their existence. If this lot had been tampered with... I'll deal with it then.
My crypt, where I most often sheltered from the sun during the day, was the best defended chamber in the whole of the castle. There I had rigged countless traps and protections, many designed specifically to hold against the kind of intense magic of which Azalin was capable of summoning. I spent months perfecting and charging them with lethal power. The idea was to delay and drain him, using up precious daylight time, and I had put in enough to last through the longest mid-summer had to offer. But those spells were not designed with a determined assault from a lich in mind. I would have to correct that.
Once in the crypt I went straight to the concealed alcove built into the base holding the sarcophagus and muttered the words that would open it. Thin lines appeared in the unmarked marble and widened to the point where I could grasp the stone plate and pull it to one side.
All was as I had left it, the books, the journals; the crystal ball in its velvet casing was elsewhere. I seized one of the books, a rare reference volume, and searched it page by page. My memory of the contents was fairly clear, though I hadn't opened it in several decades. I was sure there was some mention about liches within.
No more. It was as clean as the library collection. The same went for the rest of them, except the one Alek Qwilym had brought me, for its pages were still black.
Azalin had been remarkably thorough with the others, though. And I could assume he had managed to read my private journals.
The rage flooding through me at this violation was too great for the stone chamber to hold. I surged into the larger, outer crypt to give proper vent to it, roaring and smashing things with abandon. It was some time before I came to myself again and could survey the situation with a somewhat cooler head.
Yes, he had purged the books, and yes, he had invaded the record of my innermost thoughts. I'd have done precisely the same thing given the chance. He knew all there was to know about me - but only up to this point. I could plan around that, compensate for it, and do it in such a way as to continue a pretense of my ignorance. Not too very difficult. I'd had centuries of practice at dissembling; this would be but an extension of that useful skill. I had but to give him what he expected to see. As for my enemy... My knowledge of liches was now limited to what I could recall from casual reading. I had never made an especial study of the creatures, thinking it most unlikely I would ever encounter one. They tended to stay in one spot once they initiated the hideous spell work to bring about the awful change they desired.
Once done it could never be revoked, and they would continue on, dead and yet not dead, but in a manner far removed from my own form of existence. I still took sustenance from the living, sometimes killing to maintain my life as everyone else, but a lich was sustained itself by magic, by the kind of foul necromancy so filthy and black as to make my own dark deeds seem celestial by comparison.
All the little clues, his lack of breathing and heartbeat, his never eating, the abnormal, biting cold of his mere presence, the burning red glow of his eyes - they should have told me the truth far sooner than this. Had I been so wrapped up in the preparation for escape that I had overlooked their importance? Not likely. No. Impossible. I knew how my own mind worked and this sort of mistake was quite out of the ordinary for it. The only explanation was that Azalin had cast a very subtle spell upon me, one that prevented me from seeing what was now painfully obvious. Only when the aftermath of our explosive escape attempt had stripped him of all guise and spell work had the truth finally dawned. His cleansing of the books had been to prevent me from stumbling accidentally upon the subject which would likely have negated his spell. The more I considered it, the more obvious it became. It was the only way I could account for such a tremendous lapse of perception on my part.
In some twisted way I could take it as a compliment. He must view me as being a real danger to him once I found him out. Certainly I did have lethal means at hand to use against him, possessing any number of captured magical weapons that might do the job, except for those with auras that repelled me as well.
If it came down to a fight, he was my superior in many areas of magic, and I was all too vulnerable to supernatural injury from him - especially during the day. On the other hand, were we to engage in face-to-face physical combat, I could destroy him. Or at least his outer body. An important detail I recalled about liches had to do with them placing their life-force in some object or container for safekeeping. If their bodies were disposed of they could use it to magically transfer themselves into another vessel, a corpse being the preferred receptacle.
There were plenty of those in Castle Ravenloft. But Azalin would not be like my mindless servitors with no will but my own. He would be capable of thinking and acting for himself.
Another dim recollection concerning their weaknesses had to do with knowing the lich's true name. Azalin was a mere title. He had admitted as much. Even in the times when we had been forced to communicate with spells while we learned one another's language, he had always skirted the issue of the meaning of "Azalin,"
saying merely that it was a title of respect bestowed upon great rulers. But Azalin could not have been part of his name much less his entire name, and one would need that to deliver any sort of effective controlling spell. He would be very careful to avoid providing me with that kind of a weapon. As for a spell which would effectively control him, I knew several of that type, but whether any of them would affect him with or without the use of his name I couldn't speculate.
I had been deluding myself by comparing him to a pet mountain bear; only this thing's word had held him in check all this time. I was his keeper merely so long as he chose to be kept.
In his first weeks here he'd needed a protector and guide and had held back his hand, but as I paced around the outer crypt there occurred to me other, more solid reasons why he hadn't yet challenged me.
I was his best hope of leaving Barovia. He needed my help in the spell work, since he seemed unable to learn new ones. For that he required my willing cooperation in order to raise my knowledge up to a point where I'd be useful to his endeavors. The problem with that ploy was that now I was powerful enough in my own right that Azalin could not compel me into anything against my will. If he made the attempt and forced things, he would have to kill me, for I would refuse to submit; I was stubborn enough for that.
Then there was my link to the land. Destroying me would destroy Barovia, and by default, Azalin. He had come to believe this as much as any of the Vistani, which had always surprised me, for I was not all that certain I believed it myself, though I had used the legend to my advantage often enough. So what was I to do with this disaster awaiting a time to happen?
I had no doubt that I could keep up my fiction of ignorance about his true nature. It was necessary to my continued safety and our continuing work. Though I could press forward on my own with the research, it would go much faster with his contribution. Because of his labors I had seen a glimpse of another world, and to break through to it I needed him as much as he needed me.
It was an unpleasant and highly delicate balance of power to be sure, based on mutual deception and an archaic sense of teeth-on-edge courtesy, but I could live with it. I had to live with it. For like it or not, he was my only hope of escape.
***
Several nights passed and I heard nothing from him, though I kept an eye on things by means of my crystal. He was busy with repairs to the tower, and it seemed to take the whole of his time and concentration. Well and good, for I had need to make a quiet and unobserved journey from the castle.
Once I had ascertained that Azalin was fully occupied at his tasks, I went to the library and began a special casting. By the time I'd finished, an exact double of myself appeared sitting at my library table poring over a book, lost in study. It was detailed enough to accurately reflect candlelight and even turn pages on a regular basis. The illusion would not stand up to a close inspection, but I was willing to risk that Azalin, with whatever Sight spell he favored, was not likely to do more than just check on my general whereabouts.
The casting in place, I donned a thin gold chain from which hung a special amulet that would completely obscure my presence from the various Sight spells which I had seen him employ. For me to simply disappear was not enough and would rouse his suspicion, hence the necessity of having a double where I might be expected to be found. Azalin was probably too caught up in his repairs to even bother to look, but I had never regretted being overly cautious. When it came to a foe like this lich, there was no such concept.
All things ready and smoothly running, I executed my traveling spell. One instant I was in my library and the next standing just outside the circle of Vistani wagons by the Tser Pool, the night wind warm upon my face.
The air carried the scent of my presence to their mongrel dogs who set up an immediate row in reaction, as did their other animals. The preparations for that evening's meal stopped abruptly. Children fled to their mothers, and the men stood looking about - alert, their hands going to the big knives which they carried in their broad sashes. The focus of their attention eventually came around to me as I emerged from the forest darkness into the firelight.
"Madam Ilka," I said, "take me to her."
There was a slight hesitation on their part. Perhaps I had startled them for once; they certainly acted like it. One of the older men finally gave a short nod and snapped an order to the others. There was no relaxation of their fear, but at least they were no longer frozen in place by it.
I was given a loose escort to Ilka's vardo - nobody wanted to venture too close to me - and one of them knocked on the door, getting a faint reply from within. He opened it and a look of shock crossed his features as I took to the narrow steps and boosted myself inside without further invitation. My errand was more important than observing the ridiculous courtesies surrounding the entry of a gentleman to a lady's boudoir. In the pursuit of the sating of my appetite I'd found countless women in all states and stages of dishabille; they could hold few surprises for me now, and Ilka proved to be no exception. She was seated in her pillow-padded chair as before, the beginnings of a tarokka reading spread in front of her on the table. Once again I was struck at her remarkable resemblance to her predecessor. She looked up, dark eyes flashing mild amusement, and jerked her chin in the direction of a small stool, probably the same one I had used on my previous visit.
"Welcome, Lord Strahd. Sit and take your ease."
I left the door open. The men outside were within earshot, but I cared not.
Before the night ended they would all hear of what I wanted from them and their whole tribe throughout Barovia.
I took my seat, and Ilka turned over the next card in her reading. It was the Darklord.
"It seems I've no need to see farther," she said, gathering and shuffling the lot into a neat pile.
"Do you know why I have come?"
"The cards have only hinted, and my dreams have not been so clear. I know it has to do with the Necromancer."
"It does."
She gave me a long look. I heard the fast, light beating of her ancient heart drumming in its cage and I could smell her fear. "Does the war come now?"
"I hope not, for I am not yet prepared."
"But I thought - "
"Were he a mere necromancer then would the war stop before it could ever begin for I would kill him - but he is more than you or I ever expected."
"What is it you say?"
I told her - in detail - and watched all color drain from her face.
The sweet, exciting stink of her fear now filled the cramped vardo. To hear a living heart, to scent the fear driving it, was more than enough to rouse my hunger and tempt me to forget the promise I had made to Madam Eva so very long ago. I struggled to hold myself in check.
Ilka muttered something in her own language and made a warding gesture which seemed to have no effect against me. I plucked out the phrase "protect us" from her soft flow of words. "Such dark creatures are not meant for this world," she said aloud after some moments. "He must be destroyed."
"Indeed, but not until the time is right."
"Is the Lord Strahd afraid of him?"
"Afraid?" I arched on eyebrow. Under different circumstances I might have been angered at her presumption, but considering the subject of our discussion, I let it pass. "I fear no one in my land. But I am wise enough to discern the necessity of caution. One misstep could prove fatal. I certainly intend to kill him, but only in my own time."
She cocked her head to one side. "You have a use for him then?"
"I could desire things to be otherwise, but yes, I do. It is necessary for him to continue with the work we're doing; once it is successfully completed I shall take steps against him. Until then I have need of the Vistani as well."
"We are already your eyes and ears throughout the land."
"In general. What I need are watchers to specifically spy on him. He is in his own house now, miles from the castle. I cannot keep vigil over him as before, especially during the day."
"We dare not come too close to him. He might hear our thoughts and kill us."
"I don't require your people to move into his house, only to watch outside its gates and grounds and tell me of anything unusual that happens. I particularly want news of any who visit him, be they peasant or noble. He may try to make allies; if that happens I need to know of it."
"Better to kill him," she grumbled.
"I am open to suggestion as to how one might be able to kill the dead," I returned dryly. "Perhaps your dreams may reveal his true name to you that I might use it against him. If so, then I should be glad to know the magic as well."
"Alas, Vistani dreams are not like any others, nor our magic."
Which was probably just as well. "You will tell your people what I require of them. Accept only the best and wisest. Those who have gifts for seeing the truth past an illusion must be among them, for this necromancer can conceal much when the need suits him."
"There are few like that in our tribe."
"Find and gather them. They will be rewarded well for this service; you have my word on it." From my waistcoat pocket I drew out a silk bag, loosened the cord, and let the coins within tumble out over the table.
A glint came to her eyes as they all but fed upon the treasure. The Vistani were as fond of the brightness of gold as any magpie.
"Sort it out amongst yourselves how to manage this watch, and see to it that those chosen for duty are subtle about it so that they are not caught. There are fates far worse than merely dying, and the necromancer is familiar with many of them."
"My people may not agree to stand watch."
My sudden rage filled the vardo like a blood-red cloud. She flinched as I fought to hold it in check. When it was under control, I continued, my voice a stinging whisper. "In this they have no choice. Your people may risk death in my service or have it as an utter certainty in his. Are you willing to be the one to break the agreement Madam Eva and I made?"
She licked her lips, and her hand covered the tarokka deck. Muttering again she turned the top card over. It was The Horseman. She stared at it a long moment with a stricken face. The Horseman was feared by all for its portent of calamity and destruction, and usually meant death. Ilka gave a short hopeless laugh, then pushed the cards toward me, her fingers trembling.
I cut the deck and chose. It was easy enough to deduce her questions: What will befall the Vistani if we do nothing? And: What awaits us to follow Lord Strahd? To answer the last question I placed the card face up between us on the table and waited for her reaction. This time it was The Mist. Not always a good card for its uncertainties, but better than the previous draw.
She made no move, looking at it as though she hadn't seen it before, though the custom was for each Vistana seer to make her own deck.
"Well?" I said, growing impatient.
She briefly bowed her head. "All will be as you command, Lord Strahd. The Vistani will be your faithful servants in this war."
And not beforetime. I touched the amulet on my breast. "Do you know what this is?"
She peered closely at it, then held her hand up, palm out, fingers spread. I felt something lightly touch it. Something that was there and yet not quite real. "It is a charm against prying magic that no one may find you," she pronounced.
"Correct. I have prepared many of these for just this time." From another pocket I drew forth a small leather bag. "Each person who takes up the watch against the Necromancer must wear one of these. They will be hidden from his magical Sight, but they must take care he does not see them in the normal way or it will do them no good."
"We shall be like ghosts," she promised.
"I hope not, for ghosts are the dead and this lich knows their ways."
Again the warding gesture.
"Is all this clear to you? Must I remain to make the rest understand the importance of the task?" I put an ominous tone to this, making it seem like the threat it was.
She caught the hint. "No, Lord Strahd need not trouble himself. I will see to all. But..."
"What?"
"The others will want to know - how long must we keep the watch?"
"A day or a century." I let my fingers brush against the two cards, one the unknown, the other certain disaster.
"For as long as it takes?"
"For as long as it takes."
***
547 Barovian Calendar, Barovia "The wench will still be there a few days from now. Your presence is required to carry out these duties before I can move on to the next phase of work."
Even after five years Azalin had not tired of testing me, baiting me. I finished settling my cloak into place, not bothering to spare him a look as I secured the fastening at the base of my throat.
"Unless your head is turned enough by mere rumor to risk all chance of escape,"
he continued.
I had long grown used to his imperious manner and knew when to ignore it. This was one such time.
"What you want done is not beyond your scope; you can accomplish it easily enough."
"My efforts are better concentrated in the preparation for larger things," he said loftily.
"What would that be, running errands best left to your servitors?"
He'd made the trip from his manor house to Castle Ravenloft himself to present another order for new laboratory equipment and supplies. I didn't care much for him coming here, but I was willing to put up with it if it expedited his project.
"I want no more mistakes; that's why I must see to this personally. The previous lot of goods you sent was wholly unsuitable for use."
"Not my fault. The craft guilds constructed things exactly as you ordered."
"They failed," he stated flatly. "If you would let me deal with them directly there would be no more errors."
"And likely no more craft guilds. You have already killed two of their most skilled workers for minor errors that could have been corrected had you given them the chance to do so."
"They were incompetent idiots."
"Because of your lapse it could take decades of training before the next generation comes of age in the expertise required. I remind you that this is not your grand and glorious Oerth with an infinite number of replacements for the casualties of your temper."
"You can spare yourself the effort; I am only too well aware of the limitations of this miserable land."
"Excellent. For a mind such as yours, it should not be much of a challenge to work within those limits. When I get back I will deal with the guilds as before."
"You could be gone for months!"
"Or a single night. I'm sure you can find entertainment enough in my library for that time."
"Entertainment!" he snarled, for he had nothing but disdain for anything smacking of recreation or pleasure. A pity, that, for indulging in some form of recreation might put him in a better humor. However, he fell silent, no doubt thinking of the idea I had raised in him. He could be wonderfully predictable.
Certainly he'd want time to comb through my library again, but while I was away he would probably use the opportunity to avail himself of the chance to go through my now not-so-private journal. I had faithfully kept up making regular entries in it - relegating my true thoughts and observations in another tome which I hid where even he could not find it - but omitting any reference to my discovery of his secret. The pages in this now false journal contained occasional mentions of my curiosity over his reluctance to learn new spells, though not too many, only as would be normal and natural to any given situation. In essence I simply imitated my previous queries, along with the smug notation of a willing patience to wait until the time came for the facts to reveal themselves to my inquisitive mind.
How that would amuse him. It certainly amused me. Now.
"You are still needed here to execute certain important castings," he said in a somewhat more composed tone. Of course, he could not appear to be too eager to see me gone.
"No doubt the boredom of the minor spell work makes it less alluring to you," I said. "But I recall when I had a turn at it last time that you were less than pleased with the results, so you would be wise not to shirk such details. If you looked after them personally then you'll have only yourself to blame when the next experiment goes wrong."
His red eyes glowed all the hotter for his obvious anger, yet the late summer air in my study went icy cold. Our most recent attempt to escape last solstice had been a miserable disappointment, and he'd decided that the fault was mine.
He had no real proof on which to base this belief; it was due more to his frustration than anything else.
"We have months yet to prepare for the next try," I continued, "but what I must do now cannot wait."
He snorted in contempt. "If you have not found her by now, you never will."
Again I ignored him. When he was reduced to this level of baiting, I knew I was in the right. He could not wait to get rid of me.
By now he'd learned of how I had lost my Tatyana and about my search to find her again, all the while pretending that it was news to him. Over the course of our talks together I had allowed him to worm the story out of me. My purpose was to reinforce what he'd already read in my journals and to let him know the importance of my occasional absences. He knew that I was ever on the lookout for her return, something he always reacted to with boundless scorn.
Because of his nature, Azalin was bereft of any tender emotion. He could no longer feel love or appreciate a physical pleasure that was not an illusion, making it impossible for him to understand the depth of my own feelings toward that sweet girl. Keeping to my pretense of ignorance, I simply continued blindly on in my quest as I would were he a normal man. It was a risk that this would someday cause him to lose patience with me and give open challenge, but I was willing to take it. So long as Azalin thought himself in the position of superior knowledge about the contents of my journals and still needed me to do the spells he could not cast, he would continue to hold himself back.
During this particular day a Vistana messenger had come to the castle with news of a young woman resembling Tatyana who resided in a village by the southern border not twenty five miles distant. As it was all the way on the other side of Mount Ghakis as well as beyond a spur of Mount Sawtooth, I had a considerable journey ahead of me this night. It had also taken the message several days to reach me, so I dared not tarry longer than necessary lest some misfortune befall her.
It was about the right time for Tatyana's reappearance. Nothing would prevent me from seeking her out, not even if Azalin planned an escape attempt this very night and certainly not for such routine spells as he had in mind. He was only testing to see how much influence he could exert over me. Only as much as I allowed him. And when it came to Tatyana, he had no influence at all.
I had one other investigation to make as well. My daylight rest, normally quite tranquil, had been disturbed by some sort of dream, though that was not quite the word for it. It was more of a feeling, a sudden awareness of an intelligence intruding upon my dozing mind, like hearing someone knocking at a distant door and then entering before I could respond to it. Upon awakening I thought it might have been Azalin but discounted him.
The feeling had a plurality to it and was not all that powerful.
I realized that there was a direction to it as I mulled things over while getting ready to depart. Both the rumor and the "knocking" seemed to come from the same direction. Both would get my full attention.
I swept to the walkway, lifted my arms high, and took to the heavy air without a single backward glance.
***
The village of Hoessla was part of the loose curve of mining communities that dotted the foothills of Mount Sawtooth on the southern border of Barovia, beginning with Immol in the east and ending at Cuzau in the west. Over the years the peasants, under the direction of the local boyars, patiently tunneled into Sawtooth's flanks, drawing forth iron, copper, tin, and more rarely, gold and precious stones.
It took me most of the short summer night to reach Hoessla, which was hardly a mile from the Misty border. Because of the commerce, there were several hostels to serve the merchants and their trains. Going on the information provided by the Vistana I located the largest, the Pick and Ladder Inn, made a discreet entry into its cellars, and spent the day hidden from the sun in the rafters there. When night finally came, I flew out again to resume man-form in a shadow just inside the front gates of the courtyard.
The young fellow whose job was to lock things up for the night was no match for my influence, and he not only forgot all about my startling appearance from the growing darkness, but also the nourishing contribution he made to my well-being.
I left him to sleep off his damage in an empty stable stall, displeasing the animals with my presence, but was in and out with the body before they could make enough row to cause notice.
The inn itself was a vast (J-shaped structure. Soft, golden light shone through the futile protection of iron-barred windows, indicating business was excellent tonight. I crossed the courtyard to the sound of fiddle, fife, drum, and some kind of bagpipe. It was Vistani music. Perhaps my informant had been part of the hired entertainment. I pulled open the door.
Doubtless the people inside were expecting the familiar face of the young man, not the figure of a tall, formidable stranger wrapped in a concealing black cloak. The music faltered, the buzz of talk dying as ripples of awareness spread from those nearest the door to the furthest corners of the room. I let my cloak drop open, to reveal well cut, but ordinary clothing, the style identifying me as nobility. The innkeeper, a short, stout man apparently arrested in mid-word to one of his customers by my entry, broke away altogether and hastened toward me, an uncertain expression on his red face.
"Welcome to you, m'lord. How may I be of service?"
I ordered a seat in the common room, ostensibly to listen to the music. The Vistani musicians stared at me, but unlike the rest of the people obviously knew why I was here if they dispatched one of their own to apprise me of the news of Tatyana. The keeper hastened to set a table for me and brought a glass of his best wine.
"Does your lordship desire anything to eat?"
"I've already dined, thank you."
There were some two dozen in the room watching with open curiosity and suspicion. Any stranger coming in after sunset was subject to a certain amount of fear and caution, but when I failed to do anything more sinister than take my chair, they marginally relaxed. The music started up again, a sprightly tune, but few paid much attention to it as the patrons leaned close across their tables to talk. My hearing plucked out enough from the various conversations to inform me that I was the main topic, not that it was much of a surprise. I would have known that from their stares alone.
I let my gaze wander over the room. They were quite the mixed lot, the nomadic Vistani sharing a roof with merchants, two travelers wearing badges marking them as local petty officers of my exchequer, some miners, and a knot of poorly dressed people sitting apart from the rest. They seemed a weary and downtrodden lot, but they were not quite ragged enough to be beggars.
When the Vistani players eased into a slower song, I cocked an eyebrow at the keeper and he instantly came over. "I'm seeking word of a young woman recently come to Hoessla. I understand she is in your employ."
My opening clearly flummoxed him, and he hesitated. "I have several young women in my employ."
"No doubt. This one is very comely with coppery hair, an orphan. I believe her name is Nadia. I assure you my intentions are entirely honorable," I said, fixing my gaze on him.
He blinked and gave a little shake of his head as though dizzy, but became much more cooperative. "Indeed, there is such a girl here, your lordship. She is as you've described."
"I should like to see her. Send her to me. Now."
He nodded and hurried away through a serving door. Moments later he returned with a young woman in tow. Had I possessed a beating heart it would surely have been drumming as they approached. Then came the crashing let down of disappointment. She was lovely; her face and form were similar, but she was not my Tatyana.
I shut my eyes and drew in a long breath, releasing it slowly - not a necessity for me, but old habits die hard and the hope of reuniting with my beloved had, for just a few brief moments, put me in mind of younger days. This was not the first time I had met with failure, nor would it be the last. Punishing the Vistana for this false hope would be pointless and only discourage others from sending information in the future. My search would simply continue.
When I regained control of myself and was able to look again the keeper seemed to be most anxious. The girl was plainly frightened. I managed a reassuring smile, which alarmed her even more, for she shrank back against her master.
I sighed and said with a dismissive gesture, "Thank you, young lady, that will be all."
She did not wait for further encouragement and slipped off to whatever haven she had in the back of the house, leaving the keeper on his own. He managed to resist following her. All attention in the room was on me.
"Have we displeased your lordship?" He was trembling.
"I had hoped she might be someone else. Are there no other orphan girls in Hoessla such as I have described? Perhaps someone who was taken in by a family when she was yet a child?"
"I know of none - "
"Are you sure?" I gave this last query a solid hypnotic nudge. "Search your memory."
His face froze, eyes wide. I provided him a long moment to think, then backed off. When he could speak, he only repeated his earlier denial. "Perhaps if your lordship spoke with the newcomers. They seem to have traveled far and might be able to help. But they're quite hard to understand. I don't know where they're from, but their words are nigh on gibberish." He indicated the poorly dressed group at their tables. Unlike the others in the room, these visitors seemed only curious about me but weren't particularly afraid. That was odd.
My instincts sparked. Another crowd of interlopers from the outside? Perhaps they were the cause of the knocking I had sensed. They looked rather harmless, not the usual run of thieves and murderers.
"Have they a leader? If so - "
The keeper anticipated the rest of my request and bustled over to one of the men. They made a rapid exchange, mostly with the innkeeper pointing hesitantly in my direction, and with a puzzled shrug the man stood and came over. He was a big broad fellow with a sword in a battered scabbard whose workmanship did not originate in Barovia.
My lips twitched, suppressing a smile, and I motioned for him to take the keeper's chair.
He spoke and I was mildly surprised that I could understand some of his speech, though the intonation of his words had a lilting sing-song quality totally alien to Barovia. Though a word here and there was familiar, the rest was indeed gibberish. I feigned that I had not heard him while I cast the appropriate spell which would allow us to communicate more effectively.
"I would first know who I am sitting with, sir, if it is not too much of a liberty," he repeated, his accent strange but cultured and not at all challenging. His gentlemanly demeanor was in vast contrast to his humble clothing and rough face, the look of an outdoorsman, but with the manner of one of my more polished nobles.
"I am Count Vasili von Hoist," I said, searching for a reaction. Most people in Barovia knew the name of Lord Vasili, Strahd's able and slightly less terrifying envoy, almost as well as that of Strahd himself. Though I was now speaking this visitor's native tongue, a few of the nearby merchants overheard the name Vasili and exchanged nervous glances.
This large specimen merely gave a low bow, full of dignity. If he was surprised, it was at my seeming command of his language rather than my name.
"I am Auric, son of Courewsy. It is an honor to meet your lordship."
Then, with a dignity which belied his attire, he lowered himself into the chair opposite me. I bought him a flagon of the house's best beer then commenced the drawing of information from him. It did not take long. He could no more withstand my hypnotic command to speak than others before him. His genteel behavior was explained when I learned he was the son of a retainer in the house of some noble I had never heard of, confirming that he and the others had come from the outside. It was most unlikely any of them would know aught of Tatyana, but I did inquire just in case, getting a negative reply. That cleared, I went on to other points.
"What land are you from?" I asked.
"Forlorn."
"That is its name?"
"Indeed, your lordship."
It seemed an unlikely appellation, but I would deal with it later. "Cinder what circumstances did you come to pass through the Mists?"
"Mists?" he queried back, brow wrinkling.
"To get into Barovia you passed through a thick mist."
"There was no mist." His face was blank now under my pressuring, indication that his mind was wide open to me.
"What do you mean?"
"The weather has been fine and clear," Auric, son of Courewsy said, placid as a sheep.
"But you had to - " I cut myself short, thinking fast. He was telling the truth.
They had come in from the outside but had not been delivered here by the Mists.
"What brought you into Barovia?"
"We walked."
Ask a foolish question.
"Why did you come to Barovia?" I continued.
"We wished only to escape Forlorn. There are horrors in its forests now. We sought shelter when we saw the mountains."
"What horrors?"
"I know not, but a few weeks ago I found the body of one of my friends, or what was left of it. He'd been torn to bits. I went to others who lived throughout the forest and they spoke of the same thing. People were vanishing. Sometimes we would find a body, or what is left of a body. We gathered ourselves together and departed while we could."
"Who are your people?"
"We have no name. We lived in the forest, apart from each other."
Hermits, then, I'd heard of such eccentrics. It was not a life much favored in Barovia. Solitude was a dangerous practice in its harsh, wolf-infested mountains. Then there were other, more exotic hazards - myself for one.
"Does not gathering into a group defeat the purpose of your isolation?"
"We only came together for safety at the end, and if allowed we'll soon part company again. This land seems more welcoming."
"You have much yet to learn, then."
I questioned Auric closely and at great length under the watch of the others. We were far enough removed so that our low conversation couldn't be heard even when the Vistani weren't playing, so our privacy was complete. This was just as well, for what I learned was something so profoundly disturbing the impact could not have been more alarming than if a second moon suddenly appeared in the sky.
Auric and his companions had not been brought into Barovia from Forlorn by crossing through the Mists; they had simply walked in, unimpeded. If his story were true, then Forlorn itself was physically attached to Barovia. I was literally stunned - something which had not happened in many, many years.
For such to have happened would mean the greatest change to come to this plane since Barovia's appearance in the first place. It was almost beyond belief. I had to know everything about it.
The hermits, though, had not perceived any drastic occurrence of change, merely puzzlement upon noticing a new mountain range rising beyond the Forlorn forests.
Their unconcerned reaction to it I attributed to the alteration the land could bring to unaware minds, affecting their very memories. They were certain, though, that something had happened but a few scant weeks ago soon after the summer solstice when people in their population began to disappear.
I wondered if Azalin's latest failed experiment had anything to do with it.
Instead of taking us to Oerth, could he have brought a portion of Oerth to us? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps he was indeed as ignorant of Forlorn's existence as I had been. Certainly my tie to the land made me more sensitive to changes, and I hadn't had the least clue of it until my dream. On the other hand, the experiment may have had nothing to do with this, and it was only coincidence of timing. But I'm very reluctant to believe in coincidence.
More information was required, and I wanted Auric along. Freeing him from my influence, I gave him a fair offer to guide me into Forlorn, which he accepted after recovering. We would leave now, I told him. He had no objection to it, which again marked him as an utter stranger to Barovia.
The innkeeper had sufficient scruples to offer a nervous admonition against our leaving. "It is very dangerous to be out after dark," he said, understandably reluctant to open his door.
"What dangers?" I asked, in a good enough mood to twist his rope.
"There are wolves, many, many wolves. They are always after the flocks in the valley, but they have attacked people, too."
"Wolves have never bothered me," I said truthfully.
"But - "
"Unless with your boundless concern for my well-being you wish to accompany us as a guard?"
"Uhhh - ah - er - "
"Then I suggest you see to your customers."
He seized the offered escape and fled, nearly plowing into Auric, who had just made his good-byes to his friends. They had also been anxious over his safety, but not for being out after sunset. They were more worried about him returning to Forlorn than anything else.
"It is not a good place to be, Lord Vasili," Auric said as we departed. Behind us the innkeeper hurriedly shut and locked the main door.
"We will not be without protection," I assured him. "And you are well armed."
"The men who died were also armed, and two were known to be very skilled at fighting. Yet still they died."
We approached the gate, and he removed the crossbar, allowing me through. No one was around to replace it, so I accomplished the act with a word and gesture while on the outside. The thick length of oak dropped accurately into place.
Auric watched this with interest.
"You have a talent for magic, Lord Vasili?"
I had been open about it to see his reaction. He was completely unafraid. How refreshing. "I've studied the Art for a few years," I answered obliquely.
"Glad I am to hear it. I don't know what plagues the forest, but I have a feeling that it would fear you and your powers far more than my sword."
"Most things would."
In his role as guide he took the lead by half a pace, striding unafraid through the deserted streets to the edge of town before striking off over an open field.
I easily kept up with him.
Ahead, where there should have been a wall of Mists, was a long shallow valley, matching the form of the land as if it had always been there. Last night I had been so focused on finding the inn before sunrise that I hadn't bothered to lift my gaze in this direction, for why should I? The view had been the same featureless barrier for nearly two centuries.
"Is Forlorn large?" I asked as we hiked over the uneven ground. How much easier it was to fly or lope across as a wolf.
"No more than eight miles in width and about eighteen in length. Much of it is covered in forest and by the double peaked mountain in its heart."
"Were you born there?"
"I came from another land."
"What was it called?"
He provided the name of a country unknown to me, along with some of its history.
Perhaps it was part of Oerth, I could not say. His family had been well respected retainers, and he had fought for his lord's house in some war but tired of battle and struck off on his own upon his release from service.
"Forlorn suited me for a time," he said rather wistfully. "But things began to change. The skies became more gray, the nights darker and less quiet. Even the trees seemed to shut out the light and make things colder."
"Does Forlorn have a ruler?"
He shrugged. "To the west there's a castle, but it's in ruins; no one goes there. I never ventured close, for it has an evil feel."
"Has it a name?"
"I heard it once; but it's slipped my mind." He seemed quite untroubled by the lapse.
I gave him a sharp look. Auric's memory of his life in Forlorn must be dimming as his mind struggled to harmonize itself with its new plane. I wondered if his memory would clarify once we crossed the border.
Mount Sawtooth's thick shadow crept over us as the moon began to set. The floor of the shallow valley was smooth, but in places rifts had been cut into the land, allowing miners to burrow horizontally into the north face of the valley.
We paused by a deserted mine entry. A rather large pack of my four footed children had claimed it for their own and now tumbled forth to greet me, all playful snarls, yips, and hopeful whines for attention.
I resisted the impulse to adapt to their form; Auric was quite alarmed as it was. He started to draw his sword the instant the wolves appeared, but I put a restraining hand on his arm and told him to stand easy. His eyes fairly popped as he watched them fawning over me, tongues lolling and tails tucked low in homage to their master. Even the half-grown pups came forth from the safety of the den to join the pack in their greetings. They crowded Auric as well, sniffing with curiosity, but nothing more. I had already commanded them to leave him quite alone. To his credit, he stood fast and tried not to show fear, and after the first few trepidatious moments even relaxed slightly, though his eyebrows now seemed permanently affixed well up into his hairline.
"Your lordship is a mage of great power," he finally whispered.
"It is just the art of making the right friends," I said lightly. My wolves always put me into a pleasant mood with their uninhibited devotion. "Shall we go on?"
I motioned to the unmarked border only yards away. Less than a quarter mile off began the dark band of Forlorn's forest, rising high to the western peak of its one mountain. With the wolves as our playful escorts we proceeded forward - or at least Auric did. I reached the point where Forlorn and Barovia were seamlessly joined and stopped cold in my tracks.
Auric paused, the wolves milling around him. "Lord Vasili?"
I pushed hard against some barrier I couldn't see but solidly felt. With some annoyance, I backed away and tried again, meeting with the same immutable result. I put my hand out and let it trail along the unseen wall of force for several yards and as high as I could reach until I was satisfied the barrier was consistent. It reminded me of the external pressure I'd once encountered long ago when trying to gain entry to a monastery, but this was far more formidable.
Back then I'd been able to summon a protecting spell to allow me passage; now I had the sinking feeling I would need something much more potent to get through this check.
I told Auric to come back by the mine entrance so that I could try some spellwork. He did so without question, and as he crossed in I had a strange recurrence of my dream feeling. I was cognizant on two different levels of his action. Yes, I was there actually watching him, but within my mind I also felt the brush of his consciousness, touched briefly by the presence of another thinking being. As soon as he crossed the feeling ceased, but in its wake was the comprehension that I was aware of his entry into my land. That was what had disturbed me during the day. When he and his friends had quit Forlorn for Barovia, I had noticed. How very fascinating.
I made Auric repeat his entry and exit twice, much to his mystification, and each time felt the same effect. I wondered if I would always have this ability.
It could certainly prove useful. I wouldn't have to rely so much on the Vistani to spot strangers for me. Why had I not enjoyed it before when other intruders came out of the Mists? To that I had no ready answer, though it may have had to do with the fact that the Mists bringing others here was but a temporary phenomenon, whereas this joining to Forlorn looked to be more permanent. I had to get across so that I could explore this land myself.
Auric sat cross-legged by the mine and watched me at my magical work. So engrossed was he that he began to absently pet the wolves that lay down near him.
An hour's effort and I was forced to give up, my head ringing from the necessary concentration, and the spells I had tried quite exhausted. They were anything but minor cantrips; I had put all my energy and will into them trying to break through. The last one was my most powerful entry invocation. I'd known it to blast a hole through a three foot thick wall of rock. Here it smashed ineffectively against the border in a shower of green and purple sparks that snaked off like tiny lightnings before finally fading away from the central point of impact. I bowed my head in defeat. Damnation.
The Mists were gone, yet still was I a prisoner.
"No!" I snarled aloud to myself. The wolves growled as if agreeing with my denial.
My captivity was something I'd sworn I would never accept. The answer of escape existed; I simply hadn't discovered it yet. Physically shaking off this latest failure, I rounded on Auric. He saw I had something in mind for him and stood, his face pinched with sudden worry.
"I have a small favor to ask of you," I began, walking swiftly toward him, gathering fresh power with each step.
Before he could respond one way or another, I froze him in place with a word and a stony look. The wolves, sensing something uncanny was afoot, milled around in some confusion, whimpering. From a pocket I drew forth a small amulet on a thin necklace and slipped it over Auric's head. I had intended this magical trinket for Tatyana as a means of looking out for her safety from afar, but it would serve well in this instance. Putting forth my full power I took control of Auric's frail human mind and in turn his body, operating it like a puppet-master. His will was not up to resisting mine at the moment, though he might try struggling later. As proof against that possibility I would require a certain amount of protection and privacy so I could concentrate. The mine presented an answer to both needs.
It seemed wise to arm Auric with a bit of magic so that he could at least survive long enough to be useful. I possessed a number of them, but they were only good if one was skilled at spell casting. I did have a small copper wand, though, prepared so that the utterance of a single word would unleash the powers stored within it. This would work well enough for him should the need arise. I tucked it into one of his pockets.
Leaving the quiescent Auric without, I ducked inside the mine, my eyes quickly adjusting to the pitch blackness there. I picked a careful path, the shaft suddenly widening into a natural chamber, the floor dipping low. Above I heard the familiar squeal and rustle of bats. From the quantity of droppings on the floor I deduced that the greater part of them were out hunting and no doubt would fill the place once they returned. With this in mind I found a convenient alcove out of the line of fire and tucked myself tidily away, lying flat on the cool stone floor, my cloak wrapped about me.
Now did I redouble my concentration, aided by the crystal ball that I clasped between my hands on my chest. I looked closely into its depths, my mind consumed with an image of Auric until I again seemed to stand next to him. That accomplished, I focused upon the amulet.
A few minutes more and I seemed to be inside its amber colored depths... looking out. It was disorientating, being both bodily in the mine yet mentally elsewhere, but it was otherwise harmless to me.
The original intent of the amulet was for Tatyana to wear it and by this link could I see the approach of any threat to her and either help her myself or send some form of protection to her aid. Thus no matter the distance between us, she wouldn't be without a guardian.
In Auric's case I was less a guardian than an observer. The amulet reinforced the impact of my influence over him, but if he truly tried to resist I would have trouble keeping control.
Time to test my limits. I had him step forward, halting just before the border, and put his hand out. It moved freely past the point where earlier I had been blocked. Taking one slow pace and then another, he easily passed over the invisible line that had held me back.
The image in my crystal dimmed somewhat, and I felt my influence over his mind slip. My power beyond the border, such as it was, was limited. The magic of the amulet held fast, though. If not for its boosting link through the crystal I doubted I would have been able to see much at all.
Auric paused, shaking his head. I sensed his resistance and fought to overcome it, sending him soothing reassurances to calm him. It seemed best to compel him to think of this as being nothing more than a harmless dream conjured by his drinking. Happily he accepted the lie and I was able to get him walking again - deeper into Forlorn.
For the first time in ages I was out of Barovia, by proxy only, but free.
Perhaps it was the initial start of my path to a more permanent freedom.
With most of the wolf pack bounding at Auric's side (the half-grown pups were left behind with some of the lesser ranking adults as guardians for them and my body) he marched swiftly over the last of the valley to reach the dark of the trees. Mindful of his human-dulled senses, I had him pause while my children forged ahead as scouts into the unknown territory. Barovia was a singularly dangerous place to be up and about after sunset; why should Forlorn be any different? I wanted them to see what threat, if any, it might hold.
The wolves turned up nothing, so heading west, Auric trotted fast along the edge of the woods. On his left the wolves threaded more easily through the shadows under the trees, keeping pace. They were quieter now, as though aware of my wish for silence. He covered nearly a mile in this manner before he had to stop for a brief rest.
As he puffed and blew to catch his breath, I noted a change in the wolves. They snuffled about, excited about something. I had Auric listen hard, but nothing came to him in the quiet night air. He was growing afraid; I felt it welling up in his mind and again had to ease his fears by reminding him he was having only a vivid dream. It would do no harm to see it through. His vulnerable mind again accepted the lie, since anything more exotic was quite beyond his experience.
In keeping with the illusion of a dream, I had him draw his sword and hold it at ready. I almost seemed to feel it myself, the weight comfortable in my grip, bringing forth a rush of memories of old battles. I had been human then, susceptible as any of my soldiers to injury and death. The feeling of heady excitement overwhelmed me a moment; I'd forgotten what it felt like to put everything at casual risk, to once more live on the edge of utter destruction.
Though it wasn't really myself in peril, this was the closest I had come to the brink in ages. It was quite exhilarating.
Something of this must have passed through to Auric, for he needed no urging on my part to move forward, walking parallel to the edge of the forest until coming even with the restless wolves again. Most cooperative of him, to be sure.
I had him take a final look around to set his bearings. Far ahead to the west I discerned a featureless pale wall following the lay of the land. At this distance it had to be huge to be seen, rising very high indeed into the sky.
The Mists.
My prison had grown larger, but was still a prison.
The damned stuff must be marking the border of Forlorn now, encompassing the new land. How far did it extend? Was there yet another country joined to Forlorn?
Had other lands suddenly attached themselves to Barovia as well?
I suppose I should have foreseen it, but hope tends to block out the negative aspects of a new situation. At some point I would have to school myself to become an unrepentant pessimist, for then I should have to endure only pleasant surprises. With a snort of disgust I pushed the whole business from my mind and had Auric enter the forest, following the wolves.
They were of great help finding a path in the right direction, my children easily sniffing out a thin trail he would never have discovered on his own. The foliage above was so thick as to block out even the strongest noon sun, so the path and all about it lay in a murk black at night. Using his sword like a cane, he kept his free hand on the shoulders of the pack leader to guide himself forward.
The oak trees abruptly opened, and he stood at the outer edge of a clearing no more than twenty paces across, the grassy floor dipping down like a shallow bowl. The oaks formed a too perfect circle, having obviously been planted and carefully tended centuries ago. The youngest of these patriarchs was at least four feet in diameter. Mistletoe twined around the boughs of the trees. In their center was a flat round stone like a table with many horizontal and vertical slashes marking its rim. Runes of some sort perhaps? The perfect circle of oaks.
The mistletoe. The stone altar in the center of the grove. All of this tugged at my memory. Something I had seen in my life before coming to Barovia? Something I had read? No. An image of Alek Gwilym suddenly came to mind, our war horses standing upon a stony ridge that overlooked a valley spotted with oak trees.
Many years ago it had been, years before my fateful transformation. Looking down into the valley as we had awaited the approach of the enemy's troops on the opposite ridge, he had relayed to me a story he'd heard from his grandfather about an order of priests in his northern homeland who held the oaks as sacred.
Derwyds? No. Druids.
A druid's sacred grove. It was probably surrounded by magical protections, though those had proved futile against my wolves. Something else had drawn them here, then. The scent of old blood? Another torn up victim left by the horrors hiding in the forest? Where were the druids?
I could sense a distinct presence which was unknown to me. It reminded me of the residue of some spell or magic, not unlike certain spells I sometimes employed to disguise my presence, yet it was somehow different. Were the druids using some foreign magic to hide themselves? No. I was sure that had that been the case I could still have broken through their protections. This was different.
Similar, but different.
The grass was undisturbed; no one had come this way recently to tread it down, but the circle did not look abandoned. Chances were the druids were fast asleep at this late hour safe in some other part of the forest. It did not explain the lingering presence I felt, but since I could see no immediate threat I committed the spot to memory and prepared to leave, with the idea of perhaps returning by means of my crystal to observe from afar later.
The pack leader suddenly began growling. Auric held his breath and listened.
Perhaps the druids had set up some kind of magical trip wire that alerted them to the presence of a stranger and were coming after all. It seemed likely, so I had him order the wolves to retreat a few yards. Better that he appear to be a lone and harmless traveler than any kind of threat.
On the other hand, I hadn't discounted Auric's story of mangled bodies. I had him walk to the center of the circle, sword ready, ears straining. I could sense no spell work, but that could easily be because my senses were hampered by having to come through Auric.
The forest was preternaturally quiet. If something was moving under the dark boughs, even Auric's dulled hearing should have heard something of their movements. The faint starlight from the opening in the branches above helped me spot occasional stirrings in the undergrowth in all directions. Taking to the center might not have been such a good idea after all. It's one thing to appear vulnerable, and quite another to actually be that way.
I saw the glow of their red eyes first, peering out between the tree trunks.
Like Azalin's, their lurid light was from a fire within, not the result of any reflection.
Linked as I was to Auric's mind I felt what he felt. The hair on his neck prickled; his breath froze in his throat as the first of them stepped from the cover of the trees, a twisted figure with a flattened skull and the wide mouth of a frog, full of needle-like teeth. Auric could pick up the death smell clinging to the thing. The stink was from its last meal, the gory evidence of which soaked the rags clothing its rough hide. That must have been what had drawn the wolves in.
Another of the ugly brutes appeared, then another until more than a dozen surrounded him. Some carried bladed weapons, but most were content to rely on their huge clawed hands and teeth. They had once been human, but no longer. Some dark magic or curse had changed them into these deadly, utterly fearless creatures. Never had I seen such creatures, though the Vistani had often whispered of them. Goblyns.