forward with dread purpose would send the stoutest of souls away screaming in terror.
Azalin had not been making an idle boast when he'd said all in Darkon acknowledged his rule, all did-even the dead.
The war, war such as I had never known, had come at last.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Strahd's Narrative Continues
I did not have much time. Quickly gathering what I thought I might need, then making the travel casting, I took myself to a place where I could enlist immediate help for what was to come.
The Wachter holdings were closest to the Krezk pass. Fortunate, for they had ever been loyal to the house of Von Zaorovich. This dated back to the very beginning when Victor Wachter had served me well in defending Castle Ravenloft against that thrice-damned Dilisnya traitor. I had released Victor from my service, though he still had served as a boyar in his district. Decades later his daughter Lovina had helped me in delivering my final punishment to the bastard betrayer, and since that point the family had always prospered under my protection. Not that they were perfect, each generation possessed its aberrations, but on the whole they were competent and trustworthy in their duties.
The current head of the family was Yersinia Wachter, the several times great grand-daughter of Lovina. She was in her mid-sixties now, a widow with an uncanny ability to stay even with the complicated ebb and flow of Barovian politics, yet at the same time she managed to keep clear of its attendant parlor battles, scandal, and occasional assassinations. She would eventually pass the rule and responsibility of their district on to her son, Aldrick, and it was to be hoped that for the family's survival he had inherited his mother's diplomatic skills.
Like nearly all Barovians, their custom was to retire early with the sun, so the place was locked fast when I appeared within the high thick walls of their estate. I hurried across the beautifully kept grounds and seized the bell pull for the main entry, setting up a clamor suitable for the emergency.
The results were predictable with the usual fear, puzzlement, and sorting out what exactly was going on. Things went much more swiftly when Aldrick's face appeared at one of the windows and I could shout up to him and identify myself. I could have appeared within the house, but that would have been overdoing things. They were in enough of an uproar at this untoward intrusion of Lord Strahd himself turning up on their doorstep in full battle gear with pressing business.
As I suspected, their memories had altered to match the changes in the land, and they were quite aware of Darkon's presence on their northern borders. Over the months Yersinia had had the foresight to keep a close watch on things and step up the drills for the motley volunteers in the militia under her charge. She had perhaps fifty, mostly the young people from well-to-do families near her estate. They'd been in need of some interesting activity and playing at soldier was the fashion in these fallen days. Inexperienced, completely untested fighters used to the comforts of wealth were my army. They would have to do.
Aldrick, a stolid man in his forties, was responsible for the actual running of the volunteers, most of whom were presently scattered in their various homes, tucked up safe in bed for the night. I quickly explained to him and Yersinia about the approaching situation and the absolute need for haste. They were appalled, of course, and for a few teetering moments unable to do more than stand and stare at each other in mutual dismay for this monumental shift of circumstance. The idea of anyone invading Barovia was a nearly unfathomable concept to them, and the unknown is always daunting. There was no time for this sort of nonsense, though, and with a few sharp words I pushed them into action.
With Yersinia's authority behind him and mine behind hers, Aldrick gathered his senses together and set about collecting as many of the militia as he could, not an easy task considering the horror Barovians have about being out after dark. He was not the man Victor was, but only for lack of anything worthy to develop his talents. He did know to delegate tasks and once he had notified a half dozen of those closest, he sent them out to bring in the rest.
It took well over an hour; I tried not to chafe at the delay. It could only be expected due to their lack of experience, but it was still difficult to keep my temper in check. I had to remind myself of the bitter fact that they were hardly more than children. I couldn't help but recall the primed legions I had commanded when first I'd marched in to take Barovia. These lesser offspring would have been hard pressed to pass muster as their boot- polishing apprentices. But that was then; this was now.
When most of the fifty finally arrived, decked out in their battle regalia and mounted on whatever horses were not being used for plow work, I was more reminded of a masked ball than anything else. Aldrick, noticing my thunderous expression, assured me that they were well drilled and could hold their own if pressed. That remained to be seen.
I addressed the lot, trying to give them an idea of what they were facing and what was expected of them. It did not precisely boost their morale. They were variously excited, nervous, afraid or fearful, which was a good sign. I did not want over-confidence in the ranks as it nearly always led to a rout when toppled by the realities of blood. Part of my training for the militias was for them all to get a thorough grounding in battle history by reading the memoirs of past soldiers, including my own observations on the topic. I had hopes that some of the wisdom had sunk in. A war was not about glory; it was about killing and being killed. When the battle was over, whichever side had the least dead usually won. Of course, what was coming across the border from Azalin was the exception to that rule.
Aldrick and I, mounted on two of the Wachter's best steeds, led the way toward the Krezk pass, kicking our line of followers into a ground-eating trot. It was past midnight, and I worried over how few hours remained before morning sunlight forced me to retreat. Once an engagement began, time had a nasty way of slipping by at an alarming rate.
We had to ride around a spur of Krezk to reach the pass, and I was anxious to check on the progress of the coming hoard. I told Aldrick to continue at this pace and urged my horse into a gallop to get ahead of the column, my night vision keeping me clear of any pitfalls on the little used track. I passed on a mile ahead of my troops, tethered my horse to the ground, and took to the air, driving myself swiftly to the border.
The zombies had made much progress and would reach the pass within an hour. More haste was needed if we were to meet them there.
By the time I returned, Aldrick had nearly caught up, but because of the darkness he missed my transformation back into man-form. My horse wasn't so fortunate and would have bolted had I not caught the reins and forced my will upon her, calming her again so that I could ride. Up in the saddle I gave orders to increase our pace to a canter. No one questioned the why of my urgency, taking it for granted that I knew what I was doing. As it happened, I did but was unsure of the final outcome.
Once more I ran ahead of the rest, this time taking a position on a bluff overlooking the pass. I could see the zombies in the near distance, and my horse started nervously as the death stench rolled toward us. The others, outside my control, would not be so tractable and likely go mad once they got a whiff.
I could see to that detail right now and dismounted, putting my mind and certain elements of my magical store in order. Pushing out all other distractions, I concentrated on the wind and after many long moments of waiting noticed the change in its direction. A fresh spring breeze now flowed out of Barovia and into Dark-on, a small thing, but important.
Next, my troops would need light to fight by, so I prepared that spell, all but the final casting of it, which I would activate once they arrived. I made other preparations, taking care with the details, but moving quickly, all too aware that Azalin was probably peering over my shoulder with his Sight.
Aldrick arrived, and I hailed him from my vantage point, calling down information on the location of our foe. The creatures were nearly to the border. He announced he was ready, drawing his sword. The horses danced nervously, catching their riders' suppressed excitement. I mounted and rode down to join them. Some were all for a headlong charge to break the ranks of the coming zombies, which I explained would be pointless. That tactic only works well when one is facing an enemy capable of fear.
I told them what was about to happen insofar as my contribution was to be, so as not to startle them, then with a look toward the approaching zombies, ordered up my people and told them what to do. I had little expectation that any of this would do much good, it being foolish to think I could teach them the basics of cavalry
