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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Auric was fortunate that I was present to take charge of things. His initial reaction was to run, which would have soon been the death of him. Instead I fought to hold him in place, calming the panic in his mind with patient reason.
It is only a dream. Give up full control of yourself to me and you will live to wake. Thus did I whisper into his stunned mind.
His reply was faint but affirmative. Perhaps he had no better idea of how to face this dream turned nightmare. It was as well for him that he was so cooperative. So far did he go in giving in to my wish that I almost felt fused to him in a strange way. We were separate beings seeming to share one body and for the moment he was allowing me to fully use it.
The monstrosities were apparently more accustomed to facing a surprised foe paralyzed with terror than a trained warrior ready and willing to attack with the same heartless ferocity of which they were capable. Growling, rolling their eyes, and flashing their teeth might give them the advantage with anyone else, but not with me. I kept worse things in the castle dungeons as pets.
The first moved toward us, taking its time or so it seemed in my reckoning. When the blood rage of battle is on me, my perception of events alters. Auric's body, responding to my urgent influence, stepped forward and used the sword for the purpose for which it was best designed, cutting the goblyn in half at the waist. It took more effort than I'd anticipated, but then Auric was not as strong as I would be were I there. Nonetheless, we didn't pause, and on the return sweep our blade rendered the same grisly service to the next one that dared approach.
The rest had little reaction to the demise of their fellows. From what the Vistani have told me, goblyns are created creatures, subject to the will of their master without much brain of their own. It is both a weakness and a strength; they aren't clever, but that makes them too stupid to retreat. The only way to stop them is to kill them, or if their master calls off the attack himself.
This spun through my mind as we killed two more. It was all the rest would allow as they rushed to close their circle around us. Retreating, we hurriedly leaped over the fresh bodies, reached the edge of the clearing to put our back to a tree, then I had Auric call for the wolves.
My children joyfully darted from their cover, their full throated snarls more than drowning out the cries of our common enemy. While they provided distraction, we waded into the slaughter, stabbing a goblyn and taking its short sword away. A second weapon doubled our effectiveness, but one of them clubbed us and another swiped a claw at our left flank, connecting. Auric felt the impacts but I paid little attention, being too busy keeping him in motion to pause.
Whenever one fell another took its place, but their numbers were finite, and they were hard pressed to deal with both Auric and the wolves. The latter did not seem to hold their interest. A goblyn, being dragged to the ground by three wolves, still futilely tried to reach out for us, even as it was being torn to shreds. We cut our way through two more, but I felt Auric slowing. His body was reaching its physical limit. His breath sawed in painful gasps, and he was losing muscle control. The goblyn with the club got in another strike, this time cracking it solidly down on Auric's left arm. He could not help dropping the blade. The goblyn tried for another strike, and if the wolves had not gone for the thing just in time, we might have come to grief then and there.
There were some five or six left, and Auric was fast nearing exhaustion. It made it more difficult for me to order him about. Our link through my hypnosis and the amulet was beginning to waver. I forced him to use his injured arm to fish out the copper wand, then actually spare a look at his hand to see if the wand was in the grip of his numbed fingers. With his breath almost gone, it was hard to make him speak the necessary words of summoning. I thought he had botched it, but suddenly saw a flare of light as the energies stored in the wand obediently lashed forth, hurling themselves against their targets, engulfing them.
