End of excerpt.

543 Barovian Calendar, Barovia

Mid-summer arrived again and Azalin announced that he was finally ready to execute his escape spell.

He had been busy for months with the preparations. These last stages were quite complicated and so extended my magical abilities in certain areas that with constant practice what had once been difficult now became second nature to me. It was a different style of spell work than what I had grown used to, requiring new mental disciplines and a great deal of stamina. Had I been an ordinary man the drills alone would have exhausted me to the point of collapse. The local peasantry bore the brunt of my proportionate increase in hunger since my dungeon supplies were rather thin just then. I'd been so busy with the project that neglecting my duties of keeping the law had become the norm.

As for Azalin, his work had taken an experimental turn, combining my travel spell-the one I had used to deliver him to the house from the castle-with a summoning one in his store. I say experimental because the mixing of spells is a dangerous practice. The least glimmer of incompatibility could be disastrous-such as that incident with the hole melted through the rock wall-and I would be the one in the line of fire. Though he was a master of such a difficult Art, it would be up to me to actually execute. Again he did not learn the spell himself, but insisted that I be the one to cast it.

"The timing is delicate; this task should be yours," I said as he made a last check of the wiring and fluid levels in the glass containers.

"I shall be occupied holding and sustaining the energies."

"I can do that just as well, more easily."

"Is the work too much for you, then?"

"Not at all, but I am thinking that it is rather too much for you." I was very curious why he hadn't bothered to school himself in the new conjuration as it would have been safer for each of us to be fluent with it.

He continued as though he had not heard me.

"You have no answer for that?"

"For what?" he snapped. "If you want to have another theoretical discussion I shall be pleased to accommodate you, but not just now. The solstice takes place in less than an hour and I have no time to waste. You should be preparing yourself for the effort as well."

"I am as prepared as I shall ever be."

"Then leave me to the tasks I have left to do."

Thus did he continue to not give an answer to that little mystery. Perhaps his passage through the Mists had robbed him of the ability to learn new magic. If so, then he would not be anxious to share that vulnerability with a potential antagonist. Would the same prove true for me once I crossed the barrier? It was a risk, but one I was willing to take. No mage ever has enough spells to learn; it's like an addiction to wine, but I had such a number of them at hand that I thought I could be content for a time so long as it meant escape.

The crucial hour passed and all was finally to his satisfaction; we had only to wait until the moon was right. We could see it through the round glass window he'd placed in the tower roof high above. Each of its round panes had been shaped and specially polished to amplify the light. As soon as the moon was exactly centered we would call on and focus the flowing energies of the solstice, then he would assume control allowing me to open the portal; if all went well we could push our way through it to the plane of Oerth and finally be free.

The center of the chamber's vast floor was interrupted by a low circular wall, quite similar to a crofter's sheep pen in construction. Only instead of flat native stones piled untidily upon one another, this was a smooth work of art. He'd had the pottery guild at it all winter turning out one identical white ceramic cube after another, thousands of them. Then it was up to the masonry guild, using a special mortar which Azalin had conjured, to lay them in their courses with mathematical precision. The finished circle stood waist high, a dozen feet across, and the wall was a foot thick. He said it would hold strong against the force of any magical energy, shaping it into a form we could readily control and exploit.

I hoped he was right. The power of the solstice was very great. I had used it in the past with much success, but never on so large a project. It is one thing to enjoy a gentle summer rain safe indoors, quite another to survive the unchecked force of a lightning storm on the exposed face of a mountain.

Azalin took his position on the eastern compass point of the circle, and I stood ready on the west, our mutual gaze hard upon the window above. The moon was nearly right.

"Now," he whispered. "Begin now!"

I obliged, muttering with him the words of power, drawing down the first thread-like flow of energy sieving through the glass panes. The tendrils, unseen by normal eyes, reached toward us both, and I felt mine start to entwine about me. Arms extended, I directed it into the circle. My eyes were shut, yet clear in my mind I could see the whole room, see the thin, pale lines of moonlight rushing along my limbs in obedience to my will. A dozen feet away Azalin did the same.

Our voices grew louder, drawing more silver-blue light from the window. The room hummed with the sound of the building power. I began to tremble uncontrollably as the stuff surged through me, not from fear, but from the utter exhilaration of it. It was like being seized by battle-fever-beyond fear, remorse, or even anger-all that matters is the singing joy of sheer destruction. There is no beginning, no ending, only the crimson blaze of the present.

As the moon reached its centering, we had to shout to be heard above the roaring light. It fairly gushed through the window, filling the circle we stood over, then overfilling, but the light rose up, holding to a whirling cylindrical shape. As it spun, small sparks were thrown off to be caught and passed swiftly along the glass and copper constructs. The crackling snap of the tiny lightnings added to the din; I could barely hear myself shrieking out the final words.

Azalin continued with his incantation; I could just see his lips moving through the glare. He made several broad gestures and waited, but nothing happened. He repeated the gestures, and slowly the cylinder began to reform itself, the top retreating from the window, the base from the floor. It continued to quickly turn in midair, but the direction altered as the energy compressed, first going diagonally, then vertically. After a few worrisome moments, the cylinder gradually took on the shape of a perfect glowing sphere.

I had anticipated this, having seen it before in Ilka's crystal ball. The vision had left out the monumental noise. The vibration of it went through my body to gnaw at my very bones. I wanted to retreat but held fast, arms still outstretched, directing more power into the thing.

His voice cracking with the effort, Azalin screamed at me to start the next phase of the spell as he took over the effort of holding the light in a stable form.

Shouting the words, I instantly sensed the change. The sphere bulged out, doubling its circumference until it extended beyond the boundary of the containing walls. I felt the heat of it as it swelled toward me, inches from my face. Azalin's voice rose above the din, and through the glare I saw him make a specific gesture of control.

It didn't work. He repeated it twice more and the sphere started to shrink, the brightness increasing.

I tried to penetrate the glare with my mind's eye, looking at it in the same way as I looked into the crystal. For an instant I caught a glimpse of green and gold. I concentrated and finally saw a true image of what lay beyond, a sight I had not seen in two centuries, a fair green land bathed in summer sunlight. Past the rolling fields rose mountains, a long range of peaks totally unfamiliar to me.