Trying to recall my travel spell-for I was in a hurry-did not work. The intricacies of the words refused to form on my lips, and I could only conclude I had cast it already, even if I could not recall the circumstances. I gave vent to a single snarl of frustration, then initiated the transformation to shrink my body into that of a bat. At least that ability hadn't been forgotten.
I sped around Ghakis and coasted down to my castle which rose unchanged on its spire of rock. The snows here also lingered, but only in the deep places where the shadows never quite lifted. The courtyard, which was subject to a few hours of sun slanting over the curtain wall each day, was quite clear of it and now mud and new grass held sway.
There was a deserted look about the place, though, and as I came closer I saw the small houses and work areas I had set up for the glass blowers and other craft-workers were abandoned, apparently for several months to judge by the deterioration. Most Barovians were in the habit of slapping a coat of new paint on their shelters as soon as the weather permitted after the wear of winter. I saw evidence of this when I circled wide for a look at the village below. Life there was going on as usual, but seemed to have halted in the castle.
Alighting on the walkway outside my bedroom I pushed through the doors, listening. All was quiet, as it should be, as it always was. I made a swift exploration of the main areas of the castle and found nothing amiss. My skeletal servitors stood or paced at their posts, undisturbed. The library was as I'd left it, though because of the protection and preservation spells there it showed no sign of time's passage.
The dungeons, however, were a different matter. Most of the prisoners there had died, a common enough occurrence, for that was why they were there in the first place, but the stink and rot was a bit much even for me, and I had no need to breathe. Only two wretches remained, barely alive in their cells, starving, and quite mad, which defeated the purpose of their incarceration since insanity was a form of escape. I hungered, and in deference to the injuries I'd taken made a feast of them to speed my complete healing.
Their blood was adequate, though I had tasted richer, but one cannot expect much by way of nourishment from half-dead cattle. I would have to restock my larder soon, hopefully with better stock. In the meantime I ordered my servitors to open the cells and clear out all the bodies.
The ones that were still fairly whole I directed to be taken to my work-room for future reanimation.
Revived to some extent, I went back to my room to strip off my rags and dress again, then sought my magical books to refresh my memory on certain important spells. I also found a goodly stack of missives from my various informants among the boyars as well as notes left by the Vistani, reports on all the little intrigues and rumors, reports on the progress of the border militias and their drills, but nothing of real import. Not even fresh newcomers had bothered to cross into Barovia in all this time. Apparently my lengthy absence had had little effect on anything. I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or insulted and finally decided to ignore the whole business for the time being. I had other things to occupy me. Within an hour I was ready to travel and did so.
One moment I was in my study, the next at Azalin's manor house. Or at least the site on which it had once stood.
There was absolutely no sign of the house, not one brick or nail. Before me now was a perfectly scooped out crater some sixty or seventy yards across. The edges were softened by weathering, but not by much. At its deepest point, about thirty feet down, water was gradually pooling. No vegetation encroached within the circle, though growth around the rim was thick and healthy. This was a thoroughly dead area, and would doubtless become the focus of much dread and superstition by the locals once they became aware of it.
I sensed nothing untoward about it, only a strong tremor of negativity along the latent energy lines in the earth, which was likely due to Azalin's nearly forty years of occupation. Other than that, there was absolutely no sign of the house or tower.
Or Azalin.
He was quite incapable of moving anything on this scale; that would involve spellwork which he was unable to grasp. Something else had done this damage-if it was damage. Perhaps the house was elsewhere in Barovia. If so, then I'd have to find it and my missing guest. I cared nothing for his well-being beyond the cheering idea that if he was dead, then a number of problems would be lifted from my shoulders.
'So, you too survived,' a harsh voice said from behind me.
I whirled, annoyed with myself for allowing anyone to approach me unnoticed. Perhaps I wasn't fully recovered from whatever had happened in the vortex.
Azalin stood wrapped in the thick shadow of an ancient tree, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked undamaged, but that meant nothing since his entire appearance was an illusion.
'Surprised?' I snapped, unclenching the fists I'd made.
'Not really.' There was something odd about his manner. He seemed strangely subdued and distant. Had he suffered a similar loss of memory? I would have given much in that moment to find out, but wasn't about to betray my own lack by asking him.
'What went wrong this time?' I demanded, as I had done far too often over the years.
He did not reply right away. 'I don't know,' he finally murmured.
What was this? His usual reaction to failure was either cool analysis or a fit of violent temper. This… passiveness was singularly disturbing. Had despair seized him? Or was this resignation? Either or both served only to fuel the blazing anger rising in me.
'You… don't… know.' I waited for him to speak again. And waited. Still he remained silent. It was far more infuriating than if he'd fallen into a rage. If I stayed one moment longer I would lose all self-control and do something we'd both regret.
I made the transformation, taking to the skies once more. My last view before quitting the cursed spot was that of Azalin staring into the barren hole where once stood his home.
In the ensuing weeks we continued in our studies, searching tomes and scrolls of all sorts, hoping for any hint or clue which would lead us out of our mutual prison. Azalin's efforts seemed halfhearted at best, almost as if he had despaired of ever escaping. If this were indeed true, I knew that matters could soon turn dangerous. If he had resigned himself to remaining within Barovia, he might decide to finally attempt to challenge my rule.
These thoughts were constantly in my mind throughout those days following the failure of our latest escape attempt. I watched him more carefully than ever. After feeding each night and tending to whatever menialities demanded my attention, I spent the remaining hours in which I wasn't burdened with Azalin's company pouring over scrolls and books, searching for clues which would help me to destroy him. The initial elation of discovering his name soon faded to frustration when I couldn't find the means to use it against him. I also made frequent use of my crystal ball to keep careful watch over him.
Thus it was that I was fairly alarmed one evening to discover that I could find no trace of him in all of Barovia. The previous night we had met to search a ruined monastery from which he had detected the resonance of a magical item. The scroll he found turned out to be worthless to our purposes, and we exchanged harsh words before parting. Even if I had angered Azalin enough for him to want to leave the land, he had no better prospects in the few other lands which had recently adjoined themselves to my own. Perhaps someone else had finally disposed of him. If so, it would relieve me of the task but would present problems of its own. Anyone powerful enough to destroy Azalin would present a definite threat to me.
Desiring to discover the truth, I pressed my crystal ball into immediate service. Letting my view soar out high over the land, I began at the site of the manor house and worked my way outward in a wide spiral. Nothing attracted my attention until I swung westward and stopped cold in shock.
The Mists were nowhere along that border.
Questions flooded my mind, the chief being whether or not Azalin had actually succeeded. Had he made it possible for Barovia to rejoin its proper plane?
To that-after my first excitement passed and I was able to think again-I had to admit a reluctant no, for I'd seen the Mists in their usual line along the eastern horizon when I had flown down from Ghakis the previous evening. So what was I looking at, a new land linked to Barovia?
I coasted over the Old Svalich Road as it ran through Krezk, holding my view high. The road had been a dead- end into the Mists and unused except by the Vistani. Now it continued on through a verdant forest, as though it had always done so. I pressed over the border, and excitement returning, saw farms and crofts, houses and other
