He did not reply, his concentration focused on the zombie. Its white, sightless eyes were open, and Azalin would be using them to magically see what was within its range of view. He was linked to the thing in a similar manner as I employed when using my crystal ball.
The zombie continued down until it reached a flat valley running between the land saddle and the foot-hills of the huge mountain.
'What do you see?' I asked, for the creature was becoming too distant for me to clearly follow its progress.
Azalin took his time replying. 'Nothing of interest,' he finally muttered. 'Grass and brush. It's very windy.'
That I knew already. The pervasive winds did not assault us, though, seeming content to remain on that side of the border. The snow was something else again, making a creeping foray into the new land. If it was winter in Barovia, then it would be winter everywhere else as well.
Azalin abruptly shook his head and dropped back a few steps. I watched him narrowly, for he was not one to exhibit weakness at any time. He recovered and pushed forward until he was right on the border; for all the world he looked like a hungry child peering into a bake shop window.
'What is happening?' I demanded, getting the strong feeling that something was wrong.
He made an unintelligible snarl and continued to stare down the path his zombie had trod in the grass. I also looked long and hard, but even my night vision brought me no sign of his creature.
'I've lost contact with it,' he said after a moment. For him to admit any kind of weakness was highly unusual. 'I'm going to follow it in.'
Here he glanced at me, almost as if to seek permission, but more to get my reaction to his announcement. This was as close as he'd come to a reference to the Forlorn incident. After that unpleasant business with the goblyns, he'd shown no further interest in quitting Barovia for its neighbor, which was of some relief to me. The last thing I wanted was for him to take charge of his own land.
Dare I take the risk once again? Perhaps he would find this place more hospitable and set himself up as its ruler.
On the other hand, my curiosity was as great as his. If something had dealt with his zombie, chances were it might prove as dangerous to Azalin. Quite a cheering thought, that.
The risks for both of us seemed equal at this point.
I shrugged as if unconcerned. 'Do as you please.'
Without further delay, he stepped forward into the grass, shaking the snow from the hems of his robes. He paused after ten paces, carefully looking and listening. I knew he would be alert to any magic in the air as well as trying to re-establish contact with his servant. Another ten paces and nothing happened.
'Can you see it?' I called after him.
'Not yet.'
The wind kicked up to a higher force, and he had to lean into it to keep his balance. It would greatly restrict his ability to hear anything. Ten more paces, fighting the rising wind for each one of them.
'Well?' I shouted.
He made a dismissive waving motion, too occupied trying to stay on his path to answer. The wind howled around him, tearing at his clothing. He struggled mightily against it, and I got the impression he was going to try some spellwork to make the weather more accommodating to exploration. He started to pull a scroll from one of his pockets-
Then Azalin staggered as though struck by a large, invisible fist. The force of it was enough to lift him right from the ground and send him flying high and far. Arms flailing and legs kicking, he arced straight over my head and landed with an audible thud, sprawling gracelessly in the snow, his rich robes in much disarray. I hurried over in time to see the look of vast surprise flashing across his face, but that was soon supplanted by anger as he recovered from the assault.
I looked down at him and tried to hide my amusement at his indignity with bright curiosity. 'It seems your presence is not welcome there,' I concluded.
'Impossible,' he snapped, struggling to his feet. I didn't offer to help.
'Then what else could it be?'
He sneered. 'Maybe it was more goblyns.'
'It looked more like a backlash effect, which means someone interfered with your hold on that thing. They cut off your control, lured you in, then gave you a bloody nose for your trouble.'
I must have been living up to my name, for the devil was certainly in me at that moment. His red eyes flashed on me for an instant, his expression that of pure, naked hatred. I had seen it before and was unimpressed.
To his credit he managed to hold in his temper and not try anything foolish. He smoothed his facial illusion back to its usual lines of disdain and turned from me to the new land.
'Going to make a second try?' I inquired, all interest.
In answer he strode forward and crossed in-by exactly one pace.
'Any sense of another's presence?' I asked after a moment.
He shut his eyes and-evidently straining as if to hear distant sound-shook his head. 'There is a… I can't quite…'
Then I heard it-a kind of voiceless whisper, the sort that can only happen when spoken directly into one's mind. I recognized it, having heard something very similar centuries ago when making my bargain with Death.
'Arak,' it said.
I saw by Azalin's reaction that he 'heard' it, too. He quietly stepped back across the border.
'What is the meaning?' I murmured, staring out over the new land's wind-blasted landscape.
He shook his head. 'I think that is the name of this place. Arak.'
As he spoke the name the conviction came to me that he was absolutely correct. I grunted a short acknowledgment. We were both too used to the vagaries of the Art to question this strange mental missive. 'Do you plan to study this place?'
'Of course I will.'
'After the business with Forlorn, I got the impression you were not especially interested.'
'Only after I'd exhausted all the other lines of investigation it had to offer. With Arak's appearance, I can now repeat what I have done and compare the two with what I know about Barovia, then see if any useful answers reveal themselves.'
'Will you require more laboratory equipment?' When it came to such material supplies, Azalin was a bottomless pit of necessity.
'I'll inform you if I do.'
'Have you any initial hypothesis to prove with all this research?'
'It has to do with the conjunction phenomenon.'
He'd spoken of his pet theory a few times in the past. He had the idea that our plane occasionally joined itself with others, including the one belonging to the elusive Oerth. In this manner outsiders were able to enter, but the openings must be in one direction only and but temporary in nature. If the gates were a permanent and obvious fixture in the other planes, there would be far more newcomers invading Barovia.
'My thought is that it may be possible for whole sections of lands from outside to be drawn to this plane,' he said.
'Why?'
'That remains to be discovered, but it may be for a similar reason why so many bandits and the like are transported here by the Mists. It could be triggered by some harrowing negative event centered around a single powerful individual, a reverse conjunction, if you will.'
'On a very large scale. It seems rather much to center around a single person.'
'Yet you are here; your isolation generated the night of your brother's wedding.'
A reminder I did not welcome. 'And what about Forlorn?'
'That worthless creature skulking in the castle apparently collected enough negativity with its pathetic crimes to cause the surrounding lands to break away-or perhaps the Mists came for it.'
After several years of poking and prodding, I eventually discovered the existence of Forlorn's reigning lord. 'Creature' was as accurate a description as it could hope to have, being an unlikely hybrid. At night it was a ghost and by day one such as myself, its movements limited. By common consent Azalin and I generally ignored the
