Ag'n suddenly appeared as he removed his ring and waded in, throwing a massive fist at Vychen's belly, connecting with a massive thump. It seemed to have no effect. Vychen threw Cylla off, but Ag'n took her place, and his size and weight helped buy a little more time. Kelab became visible and aided Nanje, then Alvi, who danced around wanting to help, but uncertain just how to go about it.

  "Get him on the floor," I ordered hoarsely, making Darl stand despite his crippling pain.

  "Heave-ho," said Alvi, dropping and ducking into a ball behind the general's legs. Ag'n and Kelab pushed Vychen back so he stumbled against Alvi and the lot of them went down in a heap.

  I staggered over and smashed the still dripping pad into Vychen's face. He bucked frantically but not for long. The noxious stuff finally overpowered him. He lay beneath us fully paralyzed and nearly unconscious from the combination of the holy symbol and the suffocating potency of the contents from the bottle: concentrated liquid garlic.

  "Ugh," Alvi panted. "That smells terrible."

  "I'm sure he would agree with you if he could," I said.

  "He's one of those damned bloodsuckers," said an outraged Kelab, who had also noticed the general's extended corner teeth. "Strahd didn't say anything about that. We could have been killed."

  "We still can if we don't get out of here."

  "He knew this but didn't say a damned thing!"

  "He told me and I thought it best to keep it to myself."

  "Since when did you start making choices for the rest of us?"

  "Since I saw all the gold he was offering; now shut up and hold him fast. Nanje, keep this pressed to his face."

  She took over and I scrabbled for the leather pouch, bringing out one more brass bracelet that I slipped onto Vychen's wrist. The final item in it was another scroll with a traveling spell written upon it. I told them all to huddle close and carefully read the magical words written in silver ink on the vellum. As I uttered each syllable the ink vanished from the page in a tiny puff of dust. Between it and the connecting power stored in the bracelets the spell went active and Vychen's tent melted from our sight.

  ***

  As soon as we reappeared in the Krezk camp stable yard, I thankfully cast myself free of controlling Darl, shaking off the disturbing double view of the world, not to mention his pain. He instantly collapsed even as I opened my own eyes to see Aldrick's worried face hovering near mine.

  "Are you well, my lord?" he asked.

  "Quite well. There is a dangerous prisoner outside who requires your immediate attention. See to it."

  "It worked?"

  "It worked excellently. Make sure you retrieve that disk from Darl and bring it to me right away."

  "Yes, my lord."

  Word got out in the camp about the successful raid, news that bolstered the morale of all the soldiers. Darl was taken to the commander's office where he was agreeably silent, being fast asleep (my doing) and now under the tender care of Commander Resvalan herself. She'd already summoned her personal healer to see to his broken ribs. Doubtless he would have some confusion when he woke to find himself a hero with his friends for something he did not remember doing, but his monetary reward would likely more than compensate him for the inconvenience and embarrassment.

  I quit the furor gathering around Resvalan's office for an unused barracks house nearby. It was the same one where all the slaughter had taken place a month ago. The troops refused to sleep there, so it had been converted into a storage building while they made do with other buildings, preferring their discomforts to the cheerless memory of blood and death here.

  All the cots were gone but two, and one of those was occupied by the unconscious form of General Vychen. He looked ghastly, his face gray from the garlic. Six of the camp's largest guards stood over him, one holding a cloth cone just above Vychen's nose and mouth. It was permeated with liquid garlic, and was meant to keep him quiet. Like all of our kind, Vychen had no need to breathe, but as the stuff evaporated the guard dribbled more of the noxious liquid onto the cone so that its fumes would seep into the general's throat.

  On Vychen's chest lay the Krezk holy symbol, which effectively held him in place. As it was atop his leather breastplate, he suffered no immediate burning damage from the thing. Were it on his bare skin, the reaction would have been most spectacular. I had no such weakness for either of the things, which was fortunate for us all, else I might be too distracted to begin the next phase of my plan.

  Just to be certain that he was prevented from mischief, Vychen was also lashed fast to the reinforced cot by two inch thick ropes that I had specially prepared in the work room of my castle. They were soaked with a solution which I had developed meant to prevent him from dissolving into a mist or shrinking to the form of a bat or wolf. I wasn't sure if it would work, but thus far nothing untoward had happened.

  Tied fast around his brow was the leather strip. The stone on the gold disk was milky white again.

  "Are you sure you're up to this, my lord?" asked Aldrick.

  "Darl was the one to take all the punishment from the fight; I am quite hale."

  "There are other ways of being weary."

  True, my mind was somewhat battered from all the mental work of forcing my will upon Darl, but the boulder, as they say, was rolling down the mountain, too late to stop. "Just remember your instructions. It will be the same as before, but more so.

  "Yes, my lord," he said unhappily. "I only wish there were some other way. For you to risk controlling that—that creature…"

  "We do what we have to do, commander. My magic will keep me safe from his influence. Now see to your own duty."

  It must have been a terrifically unsettling thing for him, but he did nod, ready to carry out his orders.

  I went over to Vychen, and the guard with the liquid garlic and cone moved out of the way. From my lead-lined box I drew out another flask of the same potion I had given to Darl, only this one was ten times stronger than the dose he had consumed. I lifted Vychen's head so his mouth dragged wide and poured the stuff down his throat. The stone flashed bright and went blood red again.

  Vychen's reaction was considerably stronger and more alarming to watch than Darl's. The general's unnatural strength soon turned the cot into so much tinder, and he rolled and flopped around the floor like a beached pike, his convulsions too violent for anyone to approach. The ropes helped to some extent, but the wide-eyed guards kept a prudent distance.

  I watched impassively until the fit was over, then retired to an alcove set up to offer me some privacy and sat down to stare at my crystal.

  Though I could have easily taken over Vychen's will with my own via hypnosis, I had no desire to be so open about my ability with witnesses about. True, I could alter their memories to suit my wishes, but it seemed best to keep things simple. Besides, my hypnotic control of Vychen might stop at the border. This method, as the test had proved, was more reliable.

  I brought up his image in the crystal, shut out all other distractions, and forced my way into his vulnerable mind, creating a reprise of what had happened earlier. There was a nasty disorientating moment of roiling chaos, then I was suddenly inside Vychen's suffocating misery.

  He was so far gone from the trauma of his assault that I had complete control of him without the least bit of resistance. I shrugged off the burning ropes and got him to his unsteady feet. My guards had crossbows with wooden bolts ready to shoot, but through Vychen's lips I hissed out the password and Aldrick called them off.

  Next I had Vychen stagger over to a wash basin to soap away the burning residue of the garlic from his face. My face for now. This prosaic task used up a solid ten minutes of my precious time, but it was most necessary so that he could function properly. The water was a salty solution and did finally dispel the last of the clinging stink. I dried off with some relief to take in the apprehensive faces of the guards and Aldrick. Perhaps they were thinking I'd give in to Vychen's monstrous nature and attack them for their blood. True, his body did ache with hunger, but I was well in charge of it.

  One of the men came forward bearing careful copies of Vychen's elaborate armor and clothing. I shed myself of his garlic-tainted attire and donned the new.

  "Are you all right, my lord?" Aldrick asked as I hurriedly dressed.

  "I believe so," I rumbled.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Strong." Which was the truth. Vychen was physically more powerful for his larger body.

  "Will you—"

  I held up one hand. "Enough. I've no time for questions. If all goes well we'll know within the hour. Until then no one is to disturb me. No one, Aldrick." I nodded toward the alcove, then from the box helped myself to a small packet of magical supplies I had prepared for this phase of my attack.

  Then I thoroughly startled my people by assuming the form of a bat and darting out the open door of the barracks.

  ***

  Vychen had no trouble crossing the border and beat swiftly north to reach his camp, his perceptions filtering back to me where I sat quietly in the barracks. I had anticipated that he might fight my influence once inside Darkon, but I was ready for him. His flight faltered and his view spun, but I held firm to my dominance of him. Somewhere deep within his conscious Vychen was screaming with rage and terror, perhaps in hope that his precious Lord Azalin would hear and come to his rescue. I could not discount the possibility and made Vychen fly all the faster. Azalin would be aware of this latest entry into his land.

  It would have been more quick to use a scroll spell to travel this distance, but I wanted an opportunity to survey the area rather than through the useful, but limited crystal. If things did not go right, then soon my own small army would meet with Azalin's on this very ground. Besides, a scroll would not have gotten me through the magical protections of Vychen's tent, and it was important that he regain entry unnoticed.

  As a tiny bat, this feat was simple enough. I had him resume his man-shape once past the outer flap and took a quick look about me. All was the same as when I'd been here with Darl's party. So far no one had marked the general's absence. I had hoped for as much. My past observations had indicated that once he was with a woman he stayed busy with her for the remains of the night. I made a check of his private quarters, also unchanged, but didn't stay more than a moment since the place still reeked of garlic. I wanted no trace of it clinging to him, lest it alert others that something was amiss.

  Back in the planning area I took time to inspect the maps on his strategy table. They were all of Barovia and were as accurate as the ones I'd made of Darkon, though some blank spots were in place, notably Castle Ravenloft and other select areas where I had cast heavy protection spells to keep out prying eyes. I recognized Azalin's writing and took it as something of a compliment that he'd seen to this task himself.

  The general's plan appeared simple but effective. His army would come in through the pass and first sweep west to take the city of Krezk, securing all the bridges crossing its river. Over the river they would march east along the Svalich road. The policy was to totally destroy everything in their path with fire and sword, no prisoners, no booty. The object was to capture me if at all possible, but if not, then they had Azalin's orders to kill me, along with detailed instructions on just how to best go about it.

  If Azalin believed my demise would destroy Barovia, then it was likely he didn't think it would affect the lands around it and destroy them as well. That or he no longer cared. It was another of his weaknesses: if a fact ran counter to his deepest desire, then would he obstinately ignore the fact. Of course, there was no way to prove this one's truth beyond killing me, and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

  Though there were probably copies, I took a moment to burn this lot of papers in a charcoal brazier.

  I went to the tent flap and shoved it aside. The guards there snapped to attention. One of them stepped forward, apparently expecting orders. I gave them.

  Sudden midnight staff meetings were a common occurrence with Vychen. His nature dictated it, but it was no inconvenience to his people since so many of them were night creatures like himself. This was fortunate for me, else I would have had to deal with the problem of truly serious daylight raids.

  Fear of him and of Azalin made them efficient and timely. Within a quarter hour all five of his lesser generals turned up, along with several dozen other commanders, many of whom I knew by name from scrying. It was no great effort to maintain my impersonation before any of them. When one of them made a guarded query about the disk on Vychen's forehead I told him the truth: that it was a magical item that would help in the war effort. I only neglected to mention which side would benefit.

  They all had mounts ready, as I had ordered, and if puzzled by it, no one offered any questions. There are some advantages to being an absolute ruler within one's sphere. The general's horse was brought forward, and I heaved his muscled bulk into the saddle. The animal, like the others, wore a minor controlling charm on its tack, meant to keep it calm despite any terror it might have of its rider. How convenient. I would have to make some of those myself. If things worked out.

  I snapped at his people to follow and led the way off through the center of the camp. The troops on either side who were still awake got to their feet and listlessly saluted our passage; there were no cheers for their leaders. This gave me to that understand morale was low and likely being ignored altogether. Azalin had no concern for the minions who served him, yet another mistake. Contented servants are less likely to betray or desert their master.

  We rode south to the edge of camp closest to the Barovian border. The inner pickets here were heavy, on watch for raiding parties. The outer pickets made that possibility remote since they were composed of the dead. They faced south, standing unnaturally still, dread, untiring sentinels ready to move instantly against anyone daring to approach them. But only anyone trying to enter the camp.

  I passed through the lines of zombies, some of whom were Barovians killed in skirmishes, their bodies dragged into Darkon so that Azalin could work his reanimation magic upon them. The idea was to demoralize those in my army should they see what had happened to their former comrades.

  Now did Tew Yssup, Vychen's first general, risk his commander's displeasure by voicing a question. He was nervous about being far from the camp, so dangerously near the border.

  "This is the place where Strahd will make his stand against us when we march," I answered. "I want all of you to have it fixed in your heads. Lord Azalin will not be kind to those who make mistakes."

  That bought me another few minutes of travel, bringing us closer to my goal. Soon now.

  "Forgive me, sir," he began again, "but this is most unwise, to be here without an escort—"

  "Are we not soldiers ourselves, Yssup?" I demanded. "Any one of us is a match for ten of Strahd's best. Lord Azalin made sure of that."

  A few more minutes. My objective was just ahead, a slight dip in the land, a very shallow bowl, but enough so that one could not see beyond the opposite side. Any sensible commander would have ridden around the possible trap, but I was the great General Vychen. Who would dare to strike at him? Who indeed? I thought as we rode straight into it. Only I, Strahd of Barovia.

  I called a halt in the middle of the bowl and ordered them to dismount. Yssup choked.

  "If Strahd has his own sentries posted I don't want them seeing us as we come over the horizon," I 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.