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.
