We spent two weeks researching and planning.
I made two more astral journeys from the comparative safety of my apartments, with at least one of my friends keeping careful watch along with Father Caspar. Even so, the journeys were far from routine. Both times I experienced surprises before the trip finished, surprises that could have been deadly. For me, astral travel would never be a routine scouting procedure.
Besides my on-the-spot reconnaissance, we all combed Rome for helpful information.
We found that the summer war on the Hungarian Plain had gone badly for the Turks. They had attacked Vienna, been broken, and scattered. It was one of those scattered detachments that had found its way into my valley. It hadn’t been planned. Colonel Gülen, their commander, was a relative of the Sultan and fiercely loyal to him, but not the sharpest scimitar in the Turkish army. He had apparently taken a wrong turn during the retreat from Vienna.
Once in the valley, his detachment had started with some fairly standard foraging. This included some raping, looting, and pillaging of north valley farms … Kalnichov farms. It was news of this first incursion that filtered south, and had my father worrying.
The Kalnichovs, subtle bastards that they were, responded diplomatically rather than militarily. They offered the south half of the valley to the Turks in exchange for their help in conquering it … conquering us Rostovs! … if they would leave the northern half in peace. Gülen saw this opportunity as a blessing from Allah and agreed. Somehow, by scrying, astral travel, or some other sort of magical spying, combined with his deep wisdom, my father saw this catastrophe coming and sent me off before the Turkish victory, after which he and my mother disappeared, we still did not know how or where.
The Turks had fanned out to establish their rule over the rest of our countryside. A few of our loyalists had taken to the hills, but without any Rostov to rally them most of the villagers and farmers had submitted quietly to the change in rule.
Colonel Gülen’s decision to hole up in some remote Balkan valley, rather than rejoin the rest of the army regrouping in Bulgaria, wasn’t helping his reputation. And he knew it. No wonder his search for us Rostovs, so he could report decapitating the Sultan’s opposition, was becoming steadily more frantic.
His liaison was Count Anton Kalnichov, also living in Falcon’s Aerie, and acting like a second in command. My guess was that Anton was, like me, a mind controller. He was aware of astral travel and had nearly noticed me on my second trip.
One evening Father Caspar told us what he had learned about Kalnichov family history and the Pope’s Blessing.
“You undoubtedly know that the Rostovs are comparative newcomers to the Kalzov Valley,” he began. “Sergej, the first Baron Rostov, was your grandfather, I believe, Iglacias.” I nodded.
“But the Kalnichovs have been there since the beginning of recorded history in the area. At times the family has been powerful, with members ruling fiefdoms from the Hungarian plains to the Bulgarian plains. At other times, such as now, the family fortune has ebbed. But strong or weak, the valley has always been the center of their power, and that is a mystery.
“Their power has also long been linked with evil. That is less of a mystery: Some of the family members, the most powerful and secretive, are Vampires.”
“Vampires!” my friends exclaimed, as I realized, and regretted, that I had never mentioned that difficulty to them.
Father Caspar nodded. “Vampires. This is why Pope Clement chose to get involved, and why the Rostovs were given the Pope’s Blessing to protect your valley. There is something there that gives the Kalnichov Vampires a major boost of evil power when it is active. Sadly, my sole source, Clement’s investigator, was vague on that subject. He wrote of an evil fortress or city called Nazadlan, but gave no details as to its location or its powers—merely that the evil place was cast down nearly a hundred years ago with the help of a very young Sergej Rostov, and the power of the Kalnichovs was broken. But our Holy Father wants to be sure this current catastrophe in your valley is not a sign that Nazadlan is rising again.
“There are, in fact, some disturbing indications. The most disturbing is how little I can find out about Nazadlan. I have found no maps showing its location, no other documents mentioning its existence, no scholars who know of it. It appears this evil is still sentient enough, and powerful enough, that it can actively work to hide itself.”
My friends looked at each other, then at me and Father Caspar.
“We are up against a cabal of evil magic-using Vampires that are leaders of one province and have just conquered another?” asked Josif. “Plus a Turkish army?” added Todor. “Just the six of us?” breathed Niko.
After a silent moment Father Caspar smiled, then laughed. It was a laugh that would make any actor proud, loud and lusty. It was disconcerting to hear it coming from a very serious, very humble, holy man. He laughed himself to tears, then dried his eyes. “When you put it that way, it does sound impossible, doesn’t it?”
More soberly, he continued, “Fortunately, you have some very powerful help. Our leader is a powerful mage and I am a powerful cleric. I’m sure Baron Rostov picked you as trusted friends because he admires you, as I have learned to do. You too have great strengths, in the physical and spiritual if not the mystical realms.
“Against us we have a large number of well-trained soldiers, but their morale is low because they don’t respect their commander and he hasn’t been able to pay them in months. There are rumors, fueled partly by the Rostov servants, that Colonel Gülen is mind-controlled by his Kalnichov assistant … well, there should be such rumors, because it’s true.” I nodded; my astral observation had shown that.
“And we have the older Kalnichovs who never exerted their dark power to seriously contest Baron Sergej or his son Baron Patrik Rostov for decades. They have clearly worried that something can go wrong if they try to drive the Rostovs out, although it’s not clear what they fear.
“As allies, we have the people of the Kalzov Valley. They were happy under the Rostovs, defended the manor as well as they could, and nearly all would support a restoration. So, while we seem to be just six here, we are in fact many more, and our enemies are weaker than they look, and dividable. If we play our cards right, we can win.”
Within minutes, I and my four friends agreed that Father Caspar was right. That decided, we planned well into the night exactly how to play our cards.