My chief concern was for the crystal ball, which fortunately appeared to be unharmed by the lash of magic that had funneled through it. That was of great relief. When I felt strong enough I sat before it once more and focused my mind on the view from Mount Krezk, looking northeast to the pass between it and Mount Baratak. If Azalin sent an army across it would be at this point. He had some small experience as a military commander and though not nearly a match for my own, even he would see this area as the natural doorway into Barovia from Darkon.

All appeared to be clear and quiet in the midnight darkness, at least on my side of the invisible boundary. Not so for the other. I perceived something in motion on the land, but whatever was moving was too far away for me to discern it. Swooping low, I covered the miles in but an instant to let myself seem to stand on the edge of the border. Here I paused, pressing myself forward only gradually, testing for traps or triggers, for any kind of barrier Azalin might have set up to prevent me from crossing. When nothing sprang up for me, I continued on swiftly over the sparse grass.

Rising high to see better, I halted my progress. No need to go farther; I looked down at Azalin's army and felt a thrill of cold fear flutter through me.

Below me was another of Darkon's burial grounds, a village of the dead, but none there now lay at peace. The earth fairly roiled with activity as the bodies lying beneath it struggled and clawed and scrabbled and finally tore free of its embrace. A dozen, a hundred, two hundred and more were busily defying the natural order of things by standing in ragged lines all facing toward Barovia. Once assembled, they began to stalk, stump, or shamble toward the border, neither fast nor slow, but steadily and untiring.

They were not armed, except for those who had been warriors in life and had been buried with their weapons, their only clothing either decayed finery or tattered shrouds over their bones. The most potent weapon, though, was their own fearful appearance. Who has not at least once shivered at suddenly beholding a grinning skull? One might get accustomed to the sight, but this… to see such a dire gathering, so many of them, all upright and marching 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.

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.