I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin

I felt a strong wave of disorientation that had nothing to do with the traveling spell and more with the fact that Darl was now outside of Barovia. My view of things shimmered, and for a few bad seconds I was more sharply aware of being miles away in the commander's office than in complete control of my puppet. I fought the shifting, holding hard to my crystal and keeping my focus tight.

Though his will was stronger and more stubborn than most ordinary men - the reason why I had chosen him - they were qualities that I had to successfully subjugate for my later plan to work.

The disk on his brow felt hot right through the leather strip and dragged heavily. His head bowed from the weight of it. He was fighting me, but it was no more than the frantic trembling of the bird's wing beneath the paw of the cat.

After a moment he gave up and I assumed control once more.

The others had been too busy reacting sharply to the sudden change of location to notice Darl's problems. By the time I'd straightened him up for a look around, they were nearly recovered and sensibly silent except for one.

Alvi whimpered, but Ag'n swiftly clamped a hand over his mouth. "This is not the time to panic."

Alvi shook him off, annoyed. "Then let me know when. I shouldn't like to be late for it."

"Shut up," I snarled.

"Where are we?"

"Inside General Vychen's camp."

"Are you sure?"

From my hours of study with the crystal I knew the layout by heart. "Absolutely certain. We have to work fast, though."

Azalin would have been aware of our intrusion into his land, the same as I was aware when anyone entered Barovia. He would be ignorant of specifics and of our plans and too busy to investigate, but there was no way of calculating how long that would last.

"Vychen's tent is over there," I said, pointing. "Cylla, Nanje, which of you wants to be bait?"

"Nanje's better at tempting men," said Cylla. "I'm better at killing them."

"That depends on what you use for a weapon," her friend put in good-naturedly.

"Help me do something with my hair, would you?"

By the time they'd finished, Nanje's blond locks were flowing long over her shoulders. She slipped out of her full sleeved tunic and covered her torso with a low cut, tightly laced leather bodice. It brought her best assets to bear in an impressive display of creamy smooth flesh. How fortunate for her that I was really very much elsewhere.

"Think he'll notice me?" she asked, turning. Her leather trousers fit her like another skin.

"He'd have to be dead not to," said Kelab.

I wisely kept my superior knowledge about Vychen's true condition to myself.

"Just beware of noticing him," I warned. "Strahd said Vychen also has skill with magic, and he'll try to enspell you with it. Whatever you do, do not look him directly in the eyes."

She bit her lip, but it was to bring out the color, not from nervousness.

"Rings?" I asked.

They nodded and everyone but Nanje slipped on the special rings I'd made for them. They had used them on past missions, but Nanje still gave a start. "Are you all right? Talk to me."

"We're still here," Cylla invisibly assured her. "You go on ahead and we'll stay with you the whole time."

"Easy for you to say," Alvi put in. "I can't see my feet."

"Just don't trip over mine," said Kelab wearily. "And if you must, then be quiet about it. That goes for everyone. From this point on, not one word."

Nanje emerged from the trees, close followed by her five unseen companions, and made her way toward the general's tent.

Vychen's vast army sprawled over a wide area with the confident insolence of greater numbers, less than an hour's march from Barovia. Inner security was good, but not outstanding, which accounted for our being able to magically penetrate it. What spell casters the power-jealous Azalin allowed to practice in Darkon weren't capable of putting up the kind of protections needed to keep someone like me out.

The present risk was getting Nanje close enough to Vychen's tent so that she could catch his eye. Whether he chose to take her or not was less important than the few moments of distraction she would provide for the rest of us. His awareness was much greater than that of an ordinary mortal, and he just might be able to see us if he was particularly perceptive. As for hearing and even smelling us, the rings had that added protection incorporated into their magic.

They could not hide all sound or scent, but should adequately dampen them enough for us to accomplish our task. We were fairly safe, so long as we remained quiet.

The limits of Darl's frail body caused me to appreciate anew my own enhanced senses, which I could not use here. He seemed wrapped about with a thick muffling fabric that blunted hearing and dimmed sight. A decided disadvantage for us both.

Nanje sauntered within fifty yards of Vychen's tent before a sentry challenged her. During the briefing I had suggested a covering story about presenting a good luck charm on behalf of her unit as a gift for the general. Apparently - and this was confirmed by the fugitive Darkon mercenaries - it was something of a tradition in this land. I had seen this happen more than once in my spyings, a pretty young woman willingly going into Vychen's tent perhaps to give a gift or seek favors in exchange for her own. I hadn't seen what went on inside, since Vychen had some scrying protection about his person, but I could take an educated guess since they never came out again. What he did with the bodies I had been unable to discern. He was careful not to let them rise again.

The sentry and two other fellows came close to question Nanje, who smiled, played with her hair, swayed her hips, and laughed teasingly at their bad jokes.

One man was sent back to the tent to make a consultation with his immediate superior about the situation. Within a very few minutes word was passed to let her come closer. The five of us followed, Cylla holding lightly to the back of Darl's sword belt. He bumped once into someone, I think Kelab, but everyone kept quiet. Darl's heartbeat was high, and I made sure he held tight to the pouch to keep the contents from rattling.

The last check was at the entry to the huge tent, when Vychen himself made a brief appearance. He looked out the door flap, inspected Nanje once, and grunted a gruff affirmative before going back in again. Nanje flashed a provocative smile at the sentries and lifted the flap high to enter, then paused for another exchange with them, talking humorous nonsense, and otherwise doing an excellent job of flirting. She gave us all ample time to duck in ahead of her.

Through Darl's eyes, with the help of the disk and its stone, I was finally able to circumvent the scrying protections and see inside Vychen's tent for the first time.

The interior was larger than my castle study, and divided into sections. The front area was meant for work with its traveling desk and litter of papers; the inner portions where he had to sleep were heavily draped with many thick layers of curtains forming a tent within the tent, its object to keep all hint of sunlight from reaching him. Whatever excuse he gave his human servants for being indisposed during the day was probably bolstered by hypnotic control.

He was at his traveling desk with two of his senior staff, paying no attention to Nanje whatsoever. As she was marginally in uniform with the identifying scarf she offered a salute none of them bothered to return. Nanje scowled, her vanity slightly bruised, but she quickly recovered and stood off to one side, quite literally to await the general's pleasure.

This was the main weak point in my plan: how long it would take Vychen to dismiss his people that he might have some privacy. It was the one thing I could trust about his condition: in order to keep his secret he had to feed away from prying eyes. I had a limited amount of time, and if he was busy with business for too much of it the potion would wear off, trapping Darl and the others in the enemy camp without my leadership to get them out. Their safety did not concern me, but the success of this raid did.

Nanje, growing impatient herself, began humming softly. I could barely hear her, but Vychen did. He looked up once with some irritation, and Nanje took the opportunity offer him a smoldering smile and lick her lips. She did make eye contact with him, but at this point all the power of influence was on her side.

His irritation vanished, smoothing into quite another expression altogether. I recognized it, having keenly felt it thousands of times myself: hunger.

With that particular beast now fully wakened he would find it hard to concentrate on anything so mundane as battle plans. Within a quarter hour he dismissed his people and offered Nanje a cup of wine. She accepted and expressed great admiration for her surroundings, allowing him the opening to invite her to see the rest of his tent.

While they made small talk and he pointed out this treasure or that, I made Darl head toward the back, Cylla still holding to his belt. There were no candles here, and he could barely see by the faint light seeping in from the front. More by touch than anything else he found the flap opening to Vychen's inner sleeping quarters and we went inside. The flap moved again all by itself, and I knew at least one other of our group was inside with us. It dropped back into place, and Darl stood waiting and holding his breath in pitch darkness.

The feeble mutterings of his consciousness went very still. Perhaps some part of him understood the utter necessity of letting me have complete control at this point. I increased my hold until I almost seemed to be Darl.

Cylla let go of my belt and stood tense next to me. I couldn't tell where the other man had gotten to. I hoped it was Ag'n; his extra strength would be needed.

I knelt and quietly opened the pouch, drawing out a soft felt pad about an inch thick that fit comfortably into the palm of my hand. Next I brought forth a tightly stoppered bottle, followed by a velvet bag. I passed the latter to Cylla and heard the faint chink of metal as she reached inside. My hand froze over hers to keep her still. She got the idea and stopped making noise. I straightened, bottle in my left hand, the pad in my right.

Vychen, speaking low, and Nanje, laughing seductively, finally came to his sanctum. She thought to bring a candle and made appropriate sounds of appreciation at the sights there. The floor was covered with many layers of carpets, a broad bed stood off to one side, similarly overlaid. Beneath all he would probably have his well-hidden earth-lined coffin.

"It's so private," she exclaimed. "All these curtains and tapestries, don't you find it stuffy when it's hot?"

"Not at all," he purred. He was a big, powerful-looking man, with heavy features and dark eyes like hell pits. Nanje looked pathetically fragile next to him.

"How it steals the sound," she went on. "I could wager if I screamed my head off no one outside would hear me."

"You would win your wager," he said, moving close behind her to play with her hair. He smoothed it away from one side of her throat, a slow, lingering touch.

I knew he would be able to sense the pulse of her veins, feel the warm rush of the life surging beneath his fingers and be excited by it, distracted. I saw it in his face as he began to succumb to the irresistible summons of hunger and desire. Soon he would be blind and deaf to everything but the sating of both appetites.

Nanje put her candle down on a small table and tilted her head back allowing him to bend low for a preliminary kiss. "Why, general, are you going to give me cause to scream?" she asked when he lifted away. Her back was still to him so she could not see the budding of his fangs. He was past the flirting stage.

Instead of answering, his arms went around her, hands exploring her body. She squirmed and gave out with a moan, but her expression was of utter disgust.

Probably her inner voice was frantically telling her there was something wrong about him, even if it could not say exactly what that wrongness might be.

I eased around to place myself behind Vychen and hoped that the others were ready. We had to move soon while he was involved with Nanje, but not so far along that she would be unable to help us.

But I bumped into someone, not hard, but enough to make a noise. Vychen snapped alert, looking around. He sniffed the air and a growl began deep within him.

Though the bottle had been carefully prepared and cleaned Vychen must have caught a telltale whiff of its contents.

"General?" Nanje tried to draw his attention back to herself.

But he was suspicious and turned her roughly around to face him. He fastened his fierce gaze upon her. "Who are you, woman? Why are you really here?"

Nanje gasped, eyes wide as he started to force his hypnotic will upon her.

Now or never.

I yanked the stopper clear and slopped the contents all over the pad, much of it spilling onto my hand as well. The overpowering stink flooded the room in those few seconds. Vychen let go of Nanje, but before he could do anything else I leaped forward and slammed the soaked pad hard against his nose and mouth, hauling him back with all my strength. It was like trying to pull down an oak tree.

He roared and grabbed for me, hands like clubs, then choked as the first expiration of the burning fumes from the liquid seared deep into his lungs. The roar turned into a scream of outrage and pain, but I held the pad in place for dear life, not trusting the thick tapestries to muffle all sound from his guards.

Cylla had the wit to remove her ring so the others would see her and stay out of her way. In her hands was the metal item from the bag I'd given to her: a fine gold chain from which hung a holy symbol borrowed from the ancient Shrine of the White Sun in Krezk. The shrine had long ago been a popular place for pilgrims coming to pay homage to the gods there. Much of that faith was gone from Barovia - I did not encourage the people to religion - but the symbol yet had power within it for the likes of Vychen. Cylla deftly slipped the chain over his head.

I released my hold on him, allowing the chain to drop unimpeded into place about his neck, and the white jewel of the Symbol itself landed squarely against his breast.

He staggered, clutching his chest as though a burning brand lay against his breast, then crying out as his hands were burned when they touched the Symbol.

The others had been told it was a magical item with the power to subdue the general. The raid was dangerous enough; had they known his true nature they'd have refused the job. It was a risk keeping them ignorant, but worth it, I thought. Such strategy had worked well for me in the long ago past, after all.

I stepped in again with the smothering pad. Vychen was half-blind and half-mad from the pain of both weapons but still devastatingly strong. Before I could lock the stuff firmly against his face again, he swung wide and caught me a powerful blow to the body. I left my feet and went tumbling, feeling a terrible sharp pain in my chest. Broken ribs. I collided into someone; we landed in a tangle. Darl's agony was acute, but I forced him to draw breath.

"Rings, damn it!" I wheezed out, and hurriedly slipped mine off. As I struggled to my feet I saw Nanje and Cylla each trying to hold Vychen's arms to prevent him from tearing the holy symbol free.

Ag'n suddenly appeared as he removed his ring and waded in, throwing a massive fist at Vychen's belly, connecting with a massive thump. It seemed to have no effect. Vychen threw Cylla off, but Ag'n took her place, and his size and weight helped buy a little more time. Kelab became visible and aided Nanje, then Alvi, who danced around wanting to help, but uncertain just how to go about it.

"Get him on the floor," I ordered hoarsely, making Darl stand despite his crippling pain.

"Heave-ho," said Alvi, dropping and ducking into a ball behind the general's legs. Ag'n and Kelab pushed Vychen back so he stumbled against Alvi and the lot of them went down in a heap.

I staggered over and smashed the still dripping pad into Vychen's face. He bucked frantically but not for long. The noxious stuff finally overpowered him.

He lay beneath us fully paralyzed and nearly unconscious from the combination of the holy symbol and the suffocating potency of the contents from the bottle: concentrated liquid garlic.

"Ugh," Alvi panted. "That smells terrible."

"I'm sure he would agree with you if he could," I said.

"He's one of those damned bloodsuckers," said an outraged Kelab, who had also noticed the general's extended corner teeth. "Strahd didn't say anything about that. We could have been killed."

"We still can if we don't get out of here."

"He knew this but didn't say a damned thing!"

"He told me and I thought it best to keep it to myself."

"Since when did you start making choices for the rest of us?"

"Since I saw all the gold he was offering; now shut up and hold him fast. Nanje, keep this pressed to his face."

She took over and I scrabbled for the leather pouch, bringing out one more brass bracelet that I slipped onto Vychen's wrist. The final item in it was another scroll with a traveling spell written upon it. I told them all to huddle close and carefully read the magical words written in silver ink on the vellum. As I uttered each syllable the ink vanished from the page in a tiny puff of dust.

Between it and the connecting power stored in the bracelets the spell went active and Vychen's tent melted from our sight.

***

As soon as we reappeared in the Krezk camp stable yard, I thankfully cast myself free of controlling Darl, shaking off the disturbing double view of the world, not to mention his pain. He instantly collapsed even as I opened my own eyes to see Aldrick's worried face hovering near mine.

"Are you well, my lord?" he asked.

"Quite well. There is a dangerous prisoner outside who requires your immediate attention. See to it."

"It worked?"

"It worked excellently. Make sure you retrieve that disk from Darl and bring it to me right away."

"Yes, my lord."

Word got out in the camp about the successful raid, news that bolstered the morale of all the soldiers. Darl was taken to the commander's office where he was agreeably silent, being fast asleep (my doing) and now under the tender care of Commander Resvalan herself. She'd already summoned her personal healer to see to his broken ribs. Doubtless he would have some confusion when he woke to find himself a hero with his friends for something he did not remember doing, but his monetary reward would likely more than compensate him for the inconvenience and embarrassment.

I quit the furor gathering around Resvalan's office for an unused barracks house nearby. It was the same one where all the slaughter had taken place a month ago.

The troops refused to sleep there, so it had been converted into a storage building while they made do with other buildings, preferring their discomforts to the cheerless memory of blood and death here.

All the cots were gone but two, and one of those was occupied by the unconscious form of General Vychen. He looked ghastly, his face gray from the garlic. Six of the camp's largest guards stood over him, one holding a cloth cone just above Vychen's nose and mouth. It was permeated with liquid garlic, and was meant to keep him quiet. Like all of our kind, Vychen had no need to breathe, but as the stuff evaporated the guard dribbled more of the noxious liquid onto the cone so that its fumes would seep into the general's throat.

On Vychen's chest lay the Krezk holy symbol, which effectively held him in place. As it was atop his leather breastplate, he suffered no immediate burning damage from the thing. Were it on his bare skin, the reaction would have been most spectacular. I had no such weakness for either of the things, which was fortunate for us all, else I might be too distracted to begin the next phase of my plan.

Just to be certain that he was prevented from mischief, Vychen was also lashed fast to the reinforced cot by two inch thick ropes that I had specially prepared in the work room of my castle. They were soaked with a solution which I had developed meant to prevent him from dissolving into a mist or shrinking to the form of a bat or wolf. I wasn't sure if it would work, but thus far nothing untoward had happened.

Tied fast around his brow was the leather strip. The stone on the gold disk was milky white again.

"Are you sure you're up to this, my lord?" asked Aldrick.

"Darl was the one to take all the punishment from the fight; I am quite hale."

"There are other ways of being weary."

True, my mind was somewhat battered from all the mental work of forcing my will upon Darl, but the boulder, as they say, was rolling down the mountain, too late to stop. "Just remember your instructions. It will be the same as before, but more so.

"Yes, my lord," he said unhappily. "I only wish there were some other way. For you to risk controlling that - that creature..."

"We do what we have to do, commander. My magic will keep me safe from his influence. Now see to your own duty."

It must have been a terrifically unsettling thing for him, but he did nod, ready to carry out his orders.

I went over to Vychen, and the guard with the liquid garlic and cone moved out of the way. From my lead-lined box I drew out another flask of the same potion I had given to Darl, only this one was ten times stronger than the dose he had consumed. I lifted Vychen's head so his mouth dragged wide and poured the stuff down his throat. The stone flashed bright and went blood red again.

Vychen's reaction was considerably stronger and more alarming to watch than Darl's. The general's unnatural strength soon turned the cot into so much tinder, and he rolled and flopped around the floor like a beached pike, his convulsions too violent for anyone to approach. The ropes helped to some extent, but the wide-eyed guards kept a prudent distance.

I watched impassively until the fit was over, then retired to an alcove set up to offer me some privacy and sat down to stare at my crystal.

Though I could have easily taken over Vychen's will with my own via hypnosis, I had no desire to be so open about my ability with witnesses about. True, I could alter their memories to suit my wishes, but it seemed best to keep things simple. Besides, my hypnotic control of Vychen might stop at the border. This method, as the test had proved, was more reliable.

I brought up his image in the crystal, shut out all other distractions, and forced my way into his vulnerable mind, creating a reprise of what had happened earlier. There was a nasty disorientating moment of roiling chaos, then I was suddenly inside Vychen's suffocating misery.

He was so far gone from the trauma of his assault that I had complete control of him without the least bit of resistance. I shrugged off the burning ropes and got him to his unsteady feet. My guards had crossbows with wooden bolts ready to shoot, but through Vychen's lips I hissed out the password and Aldrick called them off.

Next I had Vychen stagger over to a wash basin to soap away the burning residue of the garlic from his face. My face for now. This prosaic task used up a solid ten minutes of my precious time, but it was most necessary so that he could function properly. The water was a salty solution and did finally dispel the last of the clinging stink. I dried off with some relief to take in the apprehensive faces of the guards and Aldrick. Perhaps they were thinking I'd give in to Vychen's monstrous nature and attack them for their blood. True, his body did ache with hunger, but I was well in charge of it.

One of the men came forward bearing careful copies of Vychen's elaborate armor and clothing. I shed myself of his garlic-tainted attire and donned the new.

"Are you all right, my lord?" Aldrick asked as I hurriedly dressed.

"I believe so," I rumbled.

"How do you feel?"

"Strong." Which was the truth. Vychen was physically more powerful for his larger body.

"Will you - "

I held up one hand. "Enough. I've no time for questions. If all goes well we'll know within the hour. Until then no one is to disturb me. No one, Aldrick." I nodded toward the alcove, then from the box helped myself to a small packet of magical supplies I had prepared for this phase of my attack.

Then I thoroughly startled my people by assuming the form of a bat and darting out the open door of the barracks.

***

Vychen had no trouble crossing the border and beat swiftly north to reach his camp, his perceptions filtering back to me where I sat quietly in the barracks.

I had anticipated that he might fight my influence once inside Darkon, but I was ready for him. His flight faltered and his view spun, but I held firm to my dominance of him. Somewhere deep within his conscious Vychen was screaming with rage and terror, perhaps in hope that his precious Lord Azalin would hear and come to his rescue. I could not discount the possibility and made Vychen fly all the faster. Azalin would be aware of this latest entry into his land.

It would have been more quick to use a scroll spell to travel this distance, but I wanted an opportunity to survey the area rather than through the useful, but limited crystal. If things did not go right, then soon my own small army would meet with Azalin's on this very ground. Besides, a scroll would not have gotten me through the magical protections of Vychen's tent, and it was important that he regain entry unnoticed.

As a tiny bat, this feat was simple enough. I had him resume his man-shape once past the outer flap and took a quick look about me. All was the same as when I'd been here with Darl's party. So far no one had marked the general's absence. I had hoped for as much. My past observations had indicated that once he was with a woman he stayed busy with her for the remains of the night. I made a check of his private quarters, also unchanged, but didn't stay more than a moment since the place still reeked of garlic. I wanted no trace of it clinging to him, lest it alert others that something was amiss.

Back in the planning area I took time to inspect the maps on his strategy table.

They were all of Barovia and were as accurate as the ones I'd made of Darkon, though some blank spots were in place, notably Castle Ravenloft and other select areas where I had cast heavy protection spells to keep out prying eyes. I recognized Azalin's writing and took it as something of a compliment that he'd seen to this task himself.

The general's plan appeared simple but effective. His army would come in through the pass and first sweep west to take the city of Krezk, securing all the bridges crossing its river. Over the river they would march east along the Svalich road. The policy was to totally destroy everything in their path with fire and sword, no prisoners, no booty. The object was to capture me if at all possible, but if not, then they had Azalin's orders to kill me, along with detailed instructions on just how to best go about it.

If Azalin believed my demise would destroy Barovia, then it was likely he didn't think it would affect the lands around it and destroy them as well. That or he no longer cared. It was another of his weaknesses: if a fact ran counter to his deepest desire, then would he obstinately ignore the fact. Of course, there was no way to prove this one's truth beyond killing me, and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Though there were probably copies, I took a moment to burn this lot of papers in a charcoal brazier.

I went to the tent flap and shoved it aside. The guards there snapped to attention. One of them stepped forward, apparently expecting orders. I gave them.

Sudden midnight staff meetings were a common occurrence with Vychen. His nature dictated it, but it was no inconvenience to his people since so many of them were night creatures like himself. This was fortunate for me, else I would have had to deal with the problem of truly serious daylight raids.

Fear of him and of Azalin made them efficient and timely. Within a quarter hour all five of his lesser generals turned up, along with several dozen other commanders, many of whom I knew by name from scrying. It was no great effort to maintain my impersonation before any of them. When one of them made a guarded query about the disk on Vychen's forehead I told him the truth: that it was a magical item that would help in the war effort. I only neglected to mention which side would benefit.

They all had mounts ready, as I had ordered, and if puzzled by it, no one offered any questions. There are some advantages to being an absolute ruler within one's sphere. The general's horse was brought forward, and I heaved his muscled bulk into the saddle. The animal, like the others, wore a minor controlling charm on its tack, meant to keep it calm despite any terror it might have of its rider. How convenient. I would have to make some of those myself. If things worked out.

I snapped at his people to follow and led the way off through the center of the camp. The troops on either side who were still awake got to their feet and listlessly saluted our passage; there were no cheers for their leaders. This gave me to that understand morale was low and likely being ignored altogether.

Azalin had no concern for the minions who served him, yet another mistake.

Contented servants are less likely to betray or desert their master.

We rode south to the edge of camp closest to the Barovian border. The inner pickets here were heavy, on watch for raiding parties. The outer pickets made that possibility remote since they were composed of the dead. They faced south, standing unnaturally still, dread, untiring sentinels ready to move instantly against anyone daring to approach them. But only anyone trying to enter the camp.

I passed through the lines of zombies, some of whom were Barovians killed in skirmishes, their bodies dragged into Darkon so that Azalin could work his reanimation magic upon them. The idea was to demoralize those in my army should they see what had happened to their former comrades.

Now did Tew Yssup, Vychen's first general, risk his commander's displeasure by voicing a question. He was nervous about being far from the camp, so dangerously near the border.

"This is the place where Strahd will make his stand against us when we march," I answered. "I want all of you to have it fixed in your heads. Lord Azalin will not be kind to those who make mistakes."

That bought me another few minutes of travel, bringing us closer to my goal.

Soon now.

"Forgive me, sir," he began again, "but this is most unwise, to be here without an escort - "

"Are we not soldiers ourselves, Yssup?" I demanded. "Any one of us is a match for ten of Strahd's best. Lord Azalin made sure of that."

A few more minutes. My objective was just ahead, a slight dip in the land, a very shallow bowl, but enough so that one could not see beyond the opposite side. Any sensible commander would have ridden around the possible trap, but I was the great General Vychen. Who would dare to strike at him? Who indeed? I thought as we rode straight into it. Only I, Strahd of Barovia.

I called a halt in the middle of the bowl and ordered them to dismount. Yssup choked.

"If Strahd has his own sentries posted I don't want them seeing us as we come over the horizon," I snapped.

It sounded plausible, but there was an overall reluctance in their midst.

Showing none myself, I slipped down and ground-tethered my horse, then marched forward, not glancing back to see if any followed. It was just the sort of thing Vychen would do. I heard them trotting to catch up, some muttering uneasy complaints.

As I came to the crest of the bowl, I dropped to a crouch, then to my hands and knees, and crept my way along. The others, in their absurd follow-my-leader obedience, did the same.

Thus were the lot of us in this supremely disadvantageous position when one of the party of troops I had sent in earlier rose up from the long grass, followed by others with swords drawn, screaming red murder as they stormed in.

The Darkon officers recovered fast, but those on the outer edge of our group took the brunt of the initial charge and heads went rolling. I had briefed my people on the supreme importance of decapitating whenever possible, having warned them about the supernatural nature of the enemy. The Barovian's silver-plated swords were enspelled to expedite this process and all carried a supply of sharp, fire-hardened wooden stakes. They also had orders to leave Vychen alone.

Yssup got to his feet, sword out, fangs bared as he roared his rage at the ambush. He put his back to me - a serious mistake. I drew my blade and swung. His head flew one way and his body dropped another, his sudden blood smoking as it spurted black over the ground.

I struck twice more before Vychen's men realized that they had a traitor in their midst. This surprised them almost as much as the attack itself, and two more dropped before anyone thought to oppose me.

Now did I have to defend myself, and I put all my effort into it, yelling to draw more attention to me. It took the pressure off of my more vulnerable human troops. As soon as a Darkon man turned to deal with me, one of mine had a chance to move in close for a kill.

The air went heavy with the scent of blood, and I felt the raw craving for it sweep over Vychen's body. He had not fed tonight. It was terribly distracting. I wanted to drop my sword and tear into the nearest throat. Instead I forced myself to swing and cut and block and swing again, taking wounds and snarling as I returned the insults with savage interest. Then the next man I attacked was one of my own, wearing my colors. I froze in mid-strike.

"General?" he shouted, uncertain. He'd been told at the briefing that Vychen had secretly gone over to the Barovian side and would lead his top people into this trap.

I let my sword blade dip toward the ground. "All is well, the password is 'crossroads.'"

The soldier relaxed slightly and nodded, then glanced at the rest of his group, or what was left of it. There were some dozen survivors, but considering that they'd been pitted against the best in Azalin's army, it was amazing anyone was standing at all. I'd have to remember to commend the Krezk commander for her excellent training program.

The enemy dead were counted and as there were more of them than the living, I could safely call this a victory and be proud.

Azalin would not easily recover from this blow. The officers destroyed here were the elite of his precious Kargat, culled and trained and culled again if they got overly ambitious and threatened him. He'd provided me with his own defeat by his fanatical thinning of the ranks, for it is not an easy thing to find someone with intelligence, talent, and boldness who is willing to subjugate himself to another's rule. So far as I knew, Azalin had wiped out all who could have possibly replaced this lot. Those remaining were sheep, not wolves, and sheep cannot lead an army. With any luck it would take him decades to restore his command structure. By that time I would have devised other strategies -  The wind, calm a moment before, abruptly kicked up, hissing through the dry grass like a thousand snakes. Its touch was cold as a winter grave. My men looked around, startled, suddenly shivering, knowing that something was wrong, but not sure what it might be.

I did. I could smell the magic in the air, feel its heaviness thrumming through my bones.

"We're discovered!" I snapped. "Head for the border now! Go! Now!"

They did not hesitate or ask questions. Wise of them. As they fled in fear-driven haste for Barovia, I pulled out a ring I had prepared and donned it, then spoke the activation word that would summon the fire spell stored within its bright gold. The ruby mounting glinted bright an instant before flashing to full life. I just had time to direct it before the force of the energy burst free and slammed over the battle ground in front of me.

The heat was such that even the green summer grass kindled and high flames soon washed over the bodies as I intended. I wanted no chance that Azalin could bring them back again, so utter destruction was a necessity. Their clothes beneath the armor caught and burned. Their flesh seared and bubbled, and the stink of burned rotted meat rolled over the land. The unnatural wind blew about in all directions, sending sparks flying. They carried the fire beyond the confines of the ambush. The wind drove it north into Darkon. If I had any more luck tonight it might even reach and engulf his line of guardian zombies. The horses, overcoming their controlling charms, finally gave in to their terror and bolted, screaming.

I turned south to follow my people in escape. They were well along. The border was not far, I would simply take to the air and head for the barra -  Fool!

Above me Azalin's harsh voice bellowed out like a clap of thunder.

I am lord here!

It seemed to fill my very head. I faltered in my rush forward as the force of it hammered me.

I am lord of all Darkon!

I tried to alter my form into a bat. Nothing happened. No shifting and shrinking of shape and muscle occurred.

Did you think I would not know when you entered my domain?

Damnation to him, his magic was interfering with the process.

When any of your damned menials entered?

I began running.

Here is my repayment for your folly!

Sensing movement above I looked up and stopped barely in time. It missed me by a hair's breadth. Right in the path before me a man's body slammed into the ground. His limbs were twisted and obviously broken from the fall, and the last expression on his face was that of absolute terror. He hadn't died here, but very far away in Azalin's stronghold.

He'd been in one of the two assassination parties I had sent into Il Aluk. Their purpose was to keep Azalin thoroughly occupied, distracted so that I could go forth with the raid and this deception here. From my own experience I always knew when Azalin sent one of his zombies into Barovia, and had no doubt he'd be aware of my doing the same with anyone as well, especially if I used magic.

Your servants failed!

His voice boomed in my mind, and I staggered from the force of it.

Their pathetic attempts to harm me failed!

Another body dropped next to me. I recognized him as the leader of the second company. His throat had been ripped out. I could see the neck bones jutting through the torn flesh.

YOU failed!

I leaped over him and ran, but barely ten paces later another body fell from the sky in front of me. This one actually struck, throwing off my stride. I swerved and lost balance. A fourth came down, knocking me flat under its weight. Before I could push it off, I was hit again. Azalin was burying me under the bodies of my own men like a child smothering an ant with a fist full of sand.

It would only get worse; I tried to turn myself to mist... and nothing. More interfering deviltry from him. I pushed and clawed and got free, then something unexpectedly seized my head and hair, pulling me back.

They were moving, these dead things.

No breath or beat of heart stirred inside them, yet their arms worked, hands reached, fingers clutched. How often had I given this parody of living to my castle servitors, but never had they turned on me or dragged me to the ground.

One last thing to do. I had hoped to take Vychen back and use him later, but I would have to abandon that plan. In the barracks house, in the shelter of my alcove I opened my own eyes. Or tried to.

I strove to part my will from Vychen, to release my control of him but could not shake myself free.

You dare to come this way to Darkon? Then stay, bloodsucker. Stay and die!

Azalin's magic. His damnable magic was holding me in place, forcing me to fuse with Vychen. Now I wasn't only aware of his pain and panic, it became my own.

Now I was no longer miles away and safe from such an attack, I was a part of what was going on, unable to draw away. Now did I struggle for my life. And lost.

Their sheer numbers were too much. They surrounded me, pulled me back and down.

I struck the ground, overcome by an avalanche of cold, reanimated flesh. Vychen was strong, but no match for these things, which were just as powerful.

Their mouths hung open as though frozen wide with laughter, but they made no sound. I caught the thick stench of death clinging to their skin as they pawed at me. Seizing a questing arm I tore it right from the socket of one of them.

There was a burst of blood, but my savage action made no change. That body and the others continued to arrest my desperate fight to get free. I was fixed to the earth by them, all my limbs held fast.

Then I saw the stake - one of the very ones my people had brought over.

I had prepared them all myself, enspelling them to make sure they'd do more than the expected injury of piercing undead flesh. They wouldn't merely rend, but sear their way through, cleaving to the body like a barbed arrow. To pull it free would cause even greater harm. And it was in the hands of a mindless corpse under the control of my worst enemy.

I will repay! Azalin's harsh voice screeched in my mind, the pain of it making me cry out.

The corpse's head lolled side to side as it shambled toward me, movements made wooden by Azalin's far away control. Its neck was broken so badly that the bones were completely parted and only the remaining skin and muscle kept it attached to the body. The thing stopped and loomed over me.

Repay!

The corpse raised the stake high. I might have screamed; I couldn't hear myself for Azalin's maddened cursing.

I glimpsed the stake arcing down, felt the tearing, burning explosion of agony in my chest. My desperate dying shriek rent the air, the last of it drowned as the blood rushed up my throat. I gagged on it. Coughing, I tried to expel my own blood from my throat. The stuff spewed over the bodies holding mine in place.

I tried to rise, make one last escape, but something else had me hard in its grip. Something I could not fight. I felt it rasp against my rib bones as I bucked against it. The stake. The damned wood had gone right through my body, pinning me to the alien earth of Darkon.

My limbs flailed out of control... Lord Strahd!

... heels drumming as ungoverned spasms racked me... Lord Strahd! Wake up!

. . .the weight of all those dead - crushing, killing... Aldrick?

... taste of my own blood in my mouth... Yes! Wake up! Wake up now!

As though he was one among the corpses I saw Aldrick's face anxiously peering down at me. The vision clouded, fogging over.

The dead heaped upon me, pressing... Come back, Lord Strahd!

I saw Aldrick again. The vision of the dead... clouds...  - or the Mists -  The terrible pain did not stop, but... changed.

Pressure was still on my chest, but different from -  Hurry!

Smothering, but bearable.

Now!

Then a terrific wrenching, as though I was being turned inside out.

My lord Strahd?

And I jarringly but undeniably traded one pain for another.

The faint image of Aldrick's face took on solidity, reality as the essence that is me was ripped from Vychen and thrust back into my own body again.

I was in the barracks house, lying flat on the floor, clutching the heavy crystal ball close to my chest. Guards were standing nearby watching with fear on their faces. Gasping, I realized my link to Vychen has dissolved, blessedly dissolved.

"My lord?" Aldrick.

"It worked," I whispered. This time with my own voice.

***

The first few nights were the most important and the worst because of all the waiting, the wretched uncertainty. Recovered from my ordeal, I kept constant post over my crystal as diligently as any of my border guards, waiting to see what Azalin would do.

The dark of the moon came... and went. His army camped just north of the Krezk pass for another week, then gradually began pulling out until none remained but a few of the guardian zombies who had not been caught in the fire.

I didn't want to trust this and sent in scouts to make sure. Some even managed to return. Their reports confirmed that Azalin's people were apparently gone from the border.

I wanted to see for myself, take control of another, but without the disk and the crystal to use I could not. It would take a very long time to create another. At least it was useless to Azalin without the magic potion to act as a catalyst.

Weeks passed, then months, then years. Azalin held back from making another massive attack, for his army would soon come to grief without experienced leaders. He could not even send his damned zombies across, knowing I would turn them against each other once they were on my side of the border. He would have to hold back and lick his wounds and hope a new generation of effective leaders would mature to replace the old. Not likely, I thought, for he was too jealous of his power to allow others to learn the art of warfare as I knew it.

I had hoped the aftermath of my assaults would provide me with at least several years of respite, time to prepare for the next attack, and for once my wish was granted.

I could thank my enemy for that, for his delay gave me the time to strengthen my own defenses. His temporary weakness made me strong. And until he realized that the continuing result for both of us in our ongoing war would ever be a draw, I would have to continue to watch, wait, and prepare for his next attack.

Unless... unless I got very, very clever again.