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 warfare in but a few moments. They knew how to ride, and that was my chief concern. If they could stay on their horses, most might have a chance of survival. Half to the left and halt to the right, I sent them off to be ready to initiate a flank attack when I called for it.

I was alone now, having placed myself directly in the path of the zombies, my dormant heart having climbed into my throat in anticipation. It had been a very long time since I'd felt the true heat of battle fever creeping upon me. One forgets what a potent tonic it can be.

The first of the creatures stepped into my land. It did not waver, and from that alone I knew that though Azalin was skulking back in his castle, he still followed their every step. His lordship of Darkon must have granted him increased powers for his Art, even as Barovia bolstered mine. Well, I could put an immediate end to that business.

The knowledge had ever been in me since Forlorn first appeared, but there had been no need to employ it. Eyes shut to concentrate, I reached forth with my will and called upon the power of the land itself to aid me. I felt a faint reaction and responded in turn, demanding more, raising my arms high to draw it up.

Mist.

It began seeping up from the earth, slowly, gathering in pools at the feet of the zombies, who paid it no mind. The mist grew thicker, uncannily holding itself in place against the wind. Thicker, more obscuring, rising ten feet, twenty, fifty, until it rivaled the great Mists that bounded this plane of existence. Its poison was useless against the dead, but let Azalin's Sight try to pierce that, if he could.

My troops saw this and looked on in fearful wonder, but soon had another wonder to take its place. I cast the last portion of the spell I had prepared with a flinging gesture. To them it seemed that a handful of very bright stars had dropped low from the sky to illuminate the whole of the field.

The lights danced like mad fireflies above the oblivious zombies, multiplying their shadows in a hundred directions. They plodded forward, the mind controlling them forcing them straight toward me. Whether Azalin could see or not, his will still drove them. I held my ground, drawing my sword. For nearly two centuries it had hung virtually unused on the wall of my bedroom, but its heft and fit were as natural to my hand as the feel of my own skin, the blade razor keen.

With a cry I kicked my horse into a gallop and raced toward the dead. They reached out for me, their mouths sagging wide in a parody of joy. I veered at the last moment to the left, my right arm swinging the sword like a scythe. In this manner I cut at least six of them in half in one pass, my blade slicing through the rotten muscle and soft bone. This was to show the troops how it was done. I shouted once to Aldrick and heard answering calls from him and the rest. They rushed in from either side, sweeping along in an uneven line, but making up for it with eagerness.

They cut and slashed, clumsily, but were sometimes effective, reducing the opposition along the edges by that much more. Their horses were not war beasts, though, and some threw their riders and bolted. When this happened the zombies would gather to attack whoever was unfortunate enough to not be able to run. One man was lost this way, and I saw Aldrick about to be similarly engulfed.

It would not do for this lot to lose their leader in their first fight. I shot forward to drag him out, but this only drew the attention of the zombies from him to me. He stumbled clear, but I was surrounded. It was too much for my horse, and under my influence or not, the beast reared, screaming in terror. Heedless of its slashing hooves the zombies closed in, and my animal went down, taking me along. I kicked free of the stirrups and rolled clear, but not for long. A stinking mass of cold flesh fell upon me, pulling and tearing. I gained my feet and cut at the creatures, calling up one of my partial castings, shouting the words to complete it, and let its force rip through the ranks.

That made for a show. The blast rolled upon them, their frail grave clothes catching flame, followed by the remains of their shrunken flesh. They were beyond feeling pain, but the element of fire was enough to severely interfere with the magic animating them. Some twisted and writhed, setting blaze to others brushing against them and they in turn passing it on. The flames were unnaturally hot, meant to turn the bones brittle and more easily prone to damage.

I took myself away from the worst of it and shouted for Aldrick and his people to withdraw. They eventually did so, with much disorder, for they were not immune to fear of the flames. I motioned for them to assemble upwind of the blaze, though Aldrick rode in on another horse and threw a hand out to me. I hooked a leg up behind his saddle and he hauled me up and away from there.