Evil In Disguise

Evil In Diguise
adapted by the player of Alessandro Grudgebringer from the original work of Alessio Cavatore

Ivan Sarnovich sat in his tent, poring over the region's maps, and sipping from a bottle of good Kislevite vodka. He hated patrolling the perimeters of such a remote outpost, in a gloomy woodland, the trees of which which lined the borders between Mother Kislev and the dwarf lands of the World's Edge Mountains. It remained, however, his sworn duty as an Ataman of the Horse Archers. Theirs was the vigil of the mountain trails.

Presently, he heard footsteps outside the tent, and two of his lieutenants walked inside. With them was a young lady, an enchantingly beautiful one. The girl looked no older than nineteen years, and very frail. Her skin was pale, and her once elegant robe in tatters. Her attractive visage was wearing a look sheer terror, and her hands shook.

"Ataman, we found this girl on the north part of the glacier. It looks as if she's been attacked, but she hasn't said a word. She's too terrified, and we don't even known if she speaks our tongue."

"I see.." said Sarnovich. "Bring her some hot food, and a new robe .." He turned to the girl, and could not help being moved by her look of innocence, and his heart became full of fondness and affection. She reminded him of his own young daughter. When the soldiers returned, she touched no food, and drank very little, and without enthusiasm; clearly she was still terribly shaken. The old soldier tried to calm her, and spoke softly: "Do not be afraid. We are friends. Friends. Do you understand me?"

The girl looked up to Sarnovich, and, seemingly making sense of his words, nodded timidly.

"Mara. Me Mara." answered the pretty voice of the girl. The Ataman smiled, relieved. He didn't recognise her accent, but at least some form of communication was possible.

"What happened to you? Where is your family? Your mother? Father?" Sarnovich asked, gently.

Mara's innocent eyes widened, and she replied. "Mountain.. monster.. die, all die. Mara no die." Anything she would have subsequently said was made incomprehensible by violent sobs.

"Hush.. there, there.. you're safe here.." Sarnovich hugged the girl, softly, and lulled her until she'd stopped crying. She'd fallen asleep by then, exhausted. The Ataman laid a blanket over her, and then walked out into the red-golden sunset, and instructed a sergeant to raise a tent for the girl. "And double the guard tonight. The girl has spoken of a monster, doubtlessly a troll or perhaps something worse, and it appears that whoever she travelled with was attacked by it. Seemingly, she's the only survivor."

Night fell. Sarnovich was woken up suddenly by a terrible scream which pierced the darkness. In a trice he was up, and out of the tent, half-dressed but with his sword ready. Where were the guards? He noticed that midnight was made blacker still by the absence of burning camp-fires. He heard shouting, from the mens' barrack-tent. He ran to it, but by the dim light of the braziers, saw that it was too late. His men were dead.

Everything was soaked in blood, flesh, cloth, and ground. Some warriors were still in their beds, their throats ripped open. Others lay on the floor, their bodies torn apart and dismembered, as if by the claws of some great creature. A troll! No, that was impossible. They lacked the stealth to catch his experienced patrol unawares. What was it then? The Ataman's mind was full of fear and rage, but one thought stood out from the rest. Mara! He had to protect the girl.

He rushed towards her tent, but found it empty. Where could she possibly be? Suddenly a series of cries arose from the edge of the wood. Some of the Kisleves still fought, and one of the voices was clearly female - the girl was with them. Sarnovich raced to the tree-line, where he could clearly see a torch burning not far ahead. He headed for the light, and almost trampled the lifeless body of Yuri, the sergeant who had earlier erected a tent for Mara. She was there, leaning against a tree, an arrow stuck deep in her shoulder, and she was covered in blood, but was still alive, though barely.

She looked at Sarnovich with hope and relief, as he approached her cautiously, but then her expression became fearful, and she cried "Behind you!". The Kislevite span around, prepared to give his life to protect Mara from such a terrible creature which had the guile and strength to slaughter his men. There was nothing there, and as his sharp eyes darted across the still night, another voice whispered from just behind his ear. He shuddered. It was the languid, sensual tones of a mature woman, laced with evil and irony. "I told you it was behind you..."

The feral snarl which followed was the last thing which Ataman Ivan Sarnovich of Kislev would ever hear.

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