James Lowder - Knight of the Black Rose

“And Caradoc?” Soth asked. He was close enough to Strahd now that the vampire could smell the bitter scent of blood on the death knight’s blade and armor. “You told me he died entering your home, remember? He is my servant. I want him released to me immediately.”

“The ghost was your servant, Lord Soth,” the vampire corrected. “He came to me seeking sanctuary. Since there are no churches to speak of in Barovia, I feel it is my responsibility to take such unfortunates into my care. Caradoc swore an oath of loyalty to me, and I consider him one of my own household now.”

“Then I will tear your household apart until I find him,” Soth said, stepping past the count. Strahd did not attempt to stop him as he headed toward the keep.

Gesturing to the castle, the count said, “You will not find Caradoc there, Soth. You frightened him so badly with your show of force that he fled.”

Strahd suddenly turned to Azrael. The dwarf was only a few paces behind the count, his mace gripped tightly in his hands. Before the dwarf could utter a single word, he found himself paralyzed. “You are fortunate, cur. I have a dozen spells that would have taken your miserable life instead of freezing your limbs.”

Although his features were locked in a snarl, Azrael’s brown eyes showed his fear and surprise quite clearly.

The count faced Soth again, a complacent smirk twisting his thin lips. “I will not hold you accountable for the mistakes of those who serve you. Do not hold a grudge against me because you have an old score to settle with a servant of mine.”

The death knight looked back at Strahd. The vampire was standing over the paralyzed dwarf, tracing with one finger the wounds Azrael had gained during the battle.

“Once,” Strahd noted casually, “when I was a soldier, I was forced to eat raw meat. It was the only food we could find, you see, and we couldn’t start a fire because the enemy would have spotted our camp.” He licked Azrael’s blood from his finger and gritted his teeth. “I never thought I would live to enjoy it so much.”

Soth walked back to Strahd. “Where is he?” he asked. When the vampire continued to prod Azrael’s wounds, the death knight grabbed his wrist. “Where did Caradoc go?”

Narrowing his eyes until they were dark slits, Strahd licked his lips. “If Magda was still with you, I would demand a trade-her life for the ghost’s. The dwarf is not worth so much.” He wrenched his hand from Soth’s grasp and pointed at Azrael. “You will need him to find your errant seneschal.”

The count paced a few steps from Soth, then straightened the cuff of his shirt. “Caradoc fled the castle and is heading for the portal to Gundarak. Perhaps he is hoping to gain Gundar’s aid against you, but I suspect the good duke fears you enough that he would never harbor someone you seek.”

“Then he intends to find the Misty Border,” Soth concluded. “He hopes the mists will deposit him somewhere far from me. And if I follow him…”

Strahd nodded. “As I explained to you before you left for Gundarak, Lord Soth, any creature of darkness takes a great risk by entering the Misty Border. If he is powerful enough, a new duchy forms around him, trapping him there forever.”

Soth did not hesitate. “Free Azrael,” he said. “We must be on our way.”

The count did as the death knight requested, but the instant the dwarf was free of the enchantment, he flew to Soth’s side. “Mighty lord, I could hear what was being said. This is a trap. Strahd is hoping you get caught in the Misty Border.”

“Of course,” Soth replied. “Where else would Caradoc have heard about the portal or the Misty Border?” He turned to the count. “I assume you have cut a deal with Gundar to keep the way clear for us from Castle Hunadora to the border?”

A smile on his lips, Strahd bowed. “Just so, Lord Soth. You are most perceptive.”

Azrael was stunned. Instead of a bloody battle, the conflict between the death knight and the vampire had become a chillingly polite exchange of words.

“Go to the portal in Vallaki,” the count said to the dwarf. “You will find the ghost’s trail there. I’m certain you will be able to track him.”

Without another word, Soth headed back up the road, along the circuitous route he had taken from the fishing village. Azrael hurried after him. The dwarf stole a look at Strahd over his shoulder just before he rounded a bend and trees blocked his view of the castle; the count stood bathed in moonlight, his arms folded over his chest.

“Do not worry, Azrael,” Soth said coldly as they hurried through the night. “We will deal with the ghost now since he may elude us if we delay too long. Strahd has no such road for escape; he is trapped in Barovia forever, and even if it takes a thousand years, I will make him pay.”

In the clearing before Castle Ravenloft, Strahd’s own thoughts mirrored the death knight’s. He knew Caradoc had provided him with a way to turn aside Soth’s anger, but only for a little while. Sooner or later, the death knight would return to seek his revenge.

As he crossed the bridge to the keep, Strahd noted with some satisfaction that he had discovered much about Soth from the story of his doom. The fallen knight was a being of great passion, with a damning concern for loyalty. He had abandoned a gods-given quest to punish a wife he feared unfaithful; why shouldn’t he forego an escape from the netherworld to destroy a faithless servant?

Yes, Strahd decided as he passed into the crumbling halls of Castle Ravenloft, a man’s form may change, but his heart remains the same forever-whether it beats in his chest or not.

The sun hung poised on the horizon, a huge red disc against a darkening sky. It was a guidepost by which Caradoc found his way southeast from Castle Hunadora toward the Misty Border. Strahd had told him that the border offered the only chance he had to escape Lord Soth. The ghost didn’t trust the count, but he had no choice in this matter. If Strahd was lying, he was doomed. If not, he just might avoid the death knight’s wrath.

Caradoc didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that Soth and Azrael were close behind him. He’d passed through the portal to Gundar’s keep, then through the tent village outside Hunadora, but the death knight had stayed on his trail. For days-he’d lost track of how many-he had plunged through endless miles of mountainous forest. No matter how fast he moved, the death knight and the werecreature kept pace with him. And in the last few hours, they’d come close to capturing him several times.

Something snarled to the ghost’s left, and he glanced into the ravine that had been parallel to his path since noon. Things were moving in the caves that dotted the gorge, things that watched him with four pairs of small, bright eyes.

“If you want some solid food,” he shouted into the ravine, “there is a dwarf and a dead man following me.”

The creatures blinked, then disappeared into their various dens. It was worth a try, the ghost told himself.

“Your desperation is pitiful,” said a hollow voice from behind Caradoc. The ghost spun around to see Soth emerge from the shadow of a boulder a hundred yards back. His unblinking orange eyes flickered ominously in the growing twilight. “Stop now, and I will destroy you quickly.”

The death knight stepped into the boulder’s shadow again and vanished, but Caradoc didn’t wait to see where he would come out. Swiftly he dropped into the ground, sliding easily into the hard-packed earth. He had evaded the death knight this way many times in the last few hours. It was only useful as an emergency escape measure, though. Caradoc could see nothing beneath the ground, so he lost his way each time he hid there.