David Wise - Tales of Ravenloft

Their talk was instructive, giving me to understand they'd not only murdered and done the arson, but from their high perch commanding a fine view of the valley, had taken rare delight at the fiery show. How disappointing that the rain had put an end to it; some were still grumbling over the ill luck hours afterward.

They were predators, but careless ones. A predator myself, I well knew the joy of the hunt, but also the responsibility, and to wantonly kill all your prey means your own death as well.

Particularly so in their case. Barovia was mine, the land, the peoples, mine to do with as I pleased. I would tolerate no interlopers despoiling my property.

Strahd von Zarovich looks after his own.

Abandoning the tree, I flew away, out of their limited sight, and became a man again, eyes and ears — and other senses — alert to all that lay around me. I became aware of a pack of wolves living not a quarter mile distant and put forth a silent call for them to come. In a remarkably short time I was surrounded by a number of their great, shaggy bodies. Grinning and panting, they bumped and fell against me to express their affection, nipping each other in their excitement and making soft yips and growls of greeting. I fairly basked in it, but not for long. At a soft word of command, they quietly followed me, threading through the trees like ghosts.

We stopped well outside the nimbus of light from the bandits'campfire. While the wolves remained hidden and waited, I slipped forward and made a slight noise to attract the attention of one of the men. They'd been in Barovia long enough to be cautious; instead of one coming to investigate, I had three to deal with. No matter.

Swords drawn and keeping within sight of each other, they crept forward into the trees, muttering cautions to be careful, treading on dry leaves, and otherwise announcing their intrusive presence to anyone or anything with ears to hear. I stood in the deep shadow of an elderly oak until the man I'd chosen came even with it, then reached out and plucked him from his feet without a sound. Pinning his arms with one hand and with the other clamped firmly over his face, I swiftly retreated with my prize. He kicked and flailed, ultimately vocalizing a strangled noise, but this was well muffled and brief for lack of air. My palm both covered his mouth and pinched his nose. His friends heard nothing.

How was I well rewarded for holding my hunger in check against the girl. Her young blood would have hardly provided for me so well as this feasting. Ecstatic, I ripped into his throat with my corner teeth, releasing the life-giving fountain of his blood. Thus did I feed, swallow after swallow, like a drunkard draining a cask of ale in one draught. When finished, I let the man's limp and empty body fall at my feet, then stepped over him to pursue his friends.

They'd grown both bold and fearful. Having determined he was not where he should have been, they called his name, hesitantly at first, in whispers, then more loudly as their alarm and annoyance increased. Again, I waited until another came close enough and dealt with him in the same manner as his fellow, holding him easily despite his best efforts to escape.

The last man, realizing that things were very much amiss, fled back to the camp. Or at least tried to do so. The wolves took it as a sign to strike and were upon him before he'd gone two steps. And so as I crouched over one man, supping on his blood with even greater relish than before, my pets tore the other to pieces, making their own evening's banquet. His shrieks of terror and agony provided suitable music for our gathering.

As a rule, I do not encourage the wolves to feed on humans, lest they become too fond of an easy hunt and abandon their natural prey of deer, but on this occasion, I judged an exception might be allowed, since it would bring about the desired effect of putting the fear of all the hells into the hearts of the rest of the bandits.

Hell. Now there was an idea.

Leaving the wolves to their meal, I returned to the edge of the camp to observe the progress of things. Nine or so men had emerged from the cave, wide-eyed and quivering as they faced the part of the woods where their companion's wrenching screams (too quickly over, alas) had sheered through the darkness. All had armed themselves. Most had swords, but a few had arrows nocked and ready in their longbows. Despite their fear, they looked as hard and as experienced as any soldier that ever had served with me in days long past. Even so, I could have charged into their midst and taken on the lot with no great inconvenience or danger to myself.

But that felt wrong, somehow. An antic humor had seized me; perhaps it was inspired by the reviving flush of fresh blood, but I was of a mind to tailor their punishment to suit their crimes.

Though wolves frequently howl to work themselves up for a hunt, I was able to persuade them to break with habit and set up a truly hair-raising clamor for the entertainment of these spoilers. As the pack was a large one, the row was not only petrifying, but nearly ear-shattering because of their proximity.

The men did not remain petrified for long, though, and almost as one retreated into the shelter of their cave. The opening was rather narrow; it was most amusing to watch as they all fought to jostle through at the same time. Once within, two of them held nervous watch, peeping out from the cave mouth like frightened birds in a nest awaiting the snake's unstoppable approach.

Neither noticed my small winged shape flitting across the abandoned camp to lightly land on the rough stone arch of the entrance, well over their heads. Using tiny claws to grasp equally tiny irregularities in the rock, I clung tightly to its face and listened and observed.

The chamber where they sheltered was fairly large, and I sensed another deeper in. Relinquishing my hold, I few over the men to reach these areas, guided by the subtle differences of sound echoing back to my extremely sensitive ears. Past the first room, I made a quick circuit of the second before lighting on the dusty floor to become myself again.

This second room was just as large, and with a little quiet — so very quiet — exploration, I discovered a crevice leading even farther into the earth to others. This was of interest to me, since I was always glad to know about places that might offer safe refuge for the day. I'd have to make a thorough investigation of this place sometime soon.

It was a dead cave, this portion of it, anyway, since no sound of trickling water reached me, and no bats clustered along the ceiling. Bats prefer a very humid incubator for their young and for those times of the year devoted to hibernation; a disappointment, as I might have employed them to further bedevil the men. However, there had been bats roosting here in the past, the remains of their now dry droppings layered the uneven floor to a depth of several feet. Well and good. I would find excellent use for it.

Picking up a small quantity of guano and cupping it in one hand, with the other I fished out a packet of sulfur tucked away in a pocket. Combining the two into a little ball and urgently whispering the necessary words to bring forth the power was the work of a moment. The ball took on a feeble blue glow that warmed gradually to green, yellow, red, and finally to a pure and brilliant white. As the colors supplanted each other in turn, the thing grew in size until it was nearly two feet in diameter. With a final word, I gently placed this highly lethal globe on the floor and lost no time commencing the change back into the form of a bat.

"What's that?" cried one of the men. He'd been drawn to this second chamber by the white light, and he and the others stood rooted with awe as they gaped at my transformation from man into animal. I have been given to understand the process is not an especially pleasant sight to witness, and doubtless this was a contributing factor to their shock. The delay was happily received by me, though, for I am rather vulnerable for the duration of the change and preferred not to have to deal with the complications of an attack from them while so occupied.