The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (14 page)

“Footprints in the snow, sir. Three
sets.”

“Can you tell where they are he
aded?”

“One set went off in this direction, but then it stopped suddenly. Perhaps one of our men apprehended someone
here.”

“Idiot!” Deimos shouted. “If that were true, there would be at least two sets and some sign of a stru
ggle!”

“Indeed.” The warrior hesitated, considering his point. “Uh, the other two sets lead back toward the
city.”

“They are trying to warn the castle. Track them
down!”

“Yes,
sir.”

Deimos muttered something to himself, stalking off toward Beauriél while the soldier headed off in the direction of Croc
etta.

Watching them silently move away, Marisa exhaled a sigh of relief, relaxing her grip on the tree. She would freeze to death if she stayed outside much longer, and she knew they would find her once it got light. There might still be time to warn her family before the warriors attacked the citadel; she only hoped that it wasn’t too
late.

She rested her cheek against the rough bark of the tree, feeling utterly helpless. How would she ever make it out of this mess alive? Nothing she had learned at school had prepared her for this type of situation. One girl against an entire army of giants was hopeless. A lost c
ause.

Suddenly, something that Cozimo had mentioned in one of her lessons popped into her mind. On Carnelia, the true ruler of the heavens was revered by an extraordinary name,
G
aron
.

Roughly translated, it meant ‘supreme guardian’. The very same Guardian and protector that her parents had worshipped could guard and protect her now. All she needed to do was
pray.

Garon, please give me wisdom and courage to escape from these men. Guard Mark and Uncle Al tonight, and keep us all safe. Be my guide back to the castle so that I can warn the others. Please don’t let us die at the hands of these men this n
ight…

She opened her eyes when a gust of wind stirred up around her, lifting her nightdress up to reveal the smooth band of leather strapped securely around her thigh. Darian had told her to wear her grandfather’s dagger on her all the time, even at night. She was so used to the weapon strapped around her leg that it had become a part of her. Fingering the sheath of the knife, she was thankful for a way to defend herself should it be neces
sary.

As the cold seeped into all her extremities, she tried to gather enough courage to get away before the warriors returned to scour the entire area at first light. She climbed down to the lowest branch just a few feet off the ground and ju
mped.

Cold snow brushed against her exposed ankles, chilling them as she headed off in a westerly direction through the forest. Running as fast as her legs could carry her, she tripped over a snow-covered log, landing face f
irst.

Frustrated by her clumsiness, she pulled herself up and brushed the wetness from her face. She looked over her shoulder, horrified to discover that it wasn’t a log she’d tripped over, but the body of one of her gu
ards.

Noticing the arrow sticking out of the poor man’s chest, her heart sank. He had died while trying to protect her. How many others had died that night trying to protect her? She forced herself not to dwell on that now; she had to focus on the task of warning the ca
stle.

Why oh why did I ever come out
here?

Trudging through the woods, she swept back up toward the main road in a broad arc. Deciding that it would be smarter to approach Crocetta from the east, she would have to cross the road somewhere and risk being seen by the warriors, but it was a gamble she had to
take.

Cautiously, she emerged from the forest, looking both ways. No one in sight. She scrambled between the bushes toward the road. The snow was much deeper in the meadow and she quickly grew exhausted just trying to wade throug
h it.

Reaching the edge of the main road, she peered down to the right. The bend in the road just a few hundred feet down was a perfect place for an ambush. Savino’s men might be lurking there, just out of sight. There were also trees and bushes on both sides of the road where they could be crouching, waiting for her in the shadows. Even if by some miracle she managed to get past them, there was nothing but a handful of farmhouses for many miles. With the weather as harsh as it was, she could never make the twenty-hour journey to Andrésis on foot wearing only a thin nightgown, socks, shoes and a c
loak.

She glanced to her left at the gated entrance of Beauriél only a few hundred paces away. She counted five warrior guards posted on the road near the gate, making it nearly impossible for her not to be spotted by one of them. Savino’s men would be everywhere, patrolling the countryside and looking for a young woman meeting her exact description. Her chances of making it back to the city alive were slim to
none.

Spotting the familiar hill about a mile down the road, she knew her only chance was to get to Eman’s house and send him to the citadel for help. But in order to reach it, she would have to cross the
road.

Sprinting across the road, she dove behind a bush and peeked out at the warriors, but they remained in their current position, chatting and laughing together. Her feet were completely numb from the cold, reminding her of when Darian had rescued her from the Styrian Ice Caves. But now it was up to her to save her
self.

Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she bolted away from the shrubs and headed south. As she ran through the snow-covered fields, her heart thundered at a rapid tempo, her lungs feeling as if they would explode. Seeing that none of the warriors spotted her moving across the snow, she just kept going. The large grove of trees on top of the hill was less than half a mile away, but it seemed like forever since each of her steps met resistance from the deep
snow.

Finally reaching the southern face of the hill, she tripped over a stone hidden by a thick layer, but was able to catch herself from falling. She moved around to the front, seeing no one nearby on the road. Breathless and sweaty, she pounded on the door, silently thanking Garon that she had reached the house undete
cted.

Eman opened it on the first knock. “Your Highness, what are you doing out at this late
hour?”

“I desperately need your help.” She panted, fighting to catch her breath. “There’s been an attack at Castle Beauriél. Several of my guards have been ki
lled.”

His eyes filled with concern. “Are you unharmed? What about your fa
mily?”

“I’m fine. I was able to escape, and so were my uncle and brother. May I com
e in?”

He motioned her inside. “Please, come in. I shall make you a cup of
tea.”

“Tea?” She glanced back at the road. “No—there’s no time for that, Eman. We need to find someplace to
hide!”

“Your hands are chilled to the bone!” he said, pulling up a chair for her. “Come, sit next to the fire. It will warm you up and dry your clo
thes.”

“They’re out there, everywhere, looking for me right now. We’ve got to get out of here, Eman!” Impatiently, she sat down on the stool, rubbing her hands together in front of the warm b
laze.

“Get warm first and then we shall sort this all out,” he said, surprising her with his calm
ness.

He removed her cloak and hung it over a chair in front of the fire to dry. Then he draped a blanket around her shoulders and handed her a cup of tea. He sat down in a chair across from her, taking a sip of his own tea and staring at her expecta
ntly.

“Eman, I need to ask you a f
avor.”

“Of course, child, anyt
hing.”

“You need to get to Crocetta and warn Darian. You have to tell him what’s happened. If I go, I’ll be captured and killed! I only hope it isn’t too
late.”

“Yes, of course. Drink your tea, and I shall prepare t
o go.”

“I’m sorry to wake you so late, but I had no other place t
o go.”

“You are always welcome
here.”

“We’ve known about Savino’s attempt to assassinate one of us for a few weeks now, but it still came unexpect
edly.”

“My dear, you did not disturb me. I was awake, pra
ying.”

She watched him as he sipped his tea, noticing the warmth in his eyes and the way his dark hair shone in the candlelight. Somehow he looked younger, but more subdued than he had been the night before. “Are you all right, Eman? You seem—anx
ious.”

“I am better now that you are here. I enjoy your com
pany.”

“Well, I can’t stay long—I’ll have to find another place to hide out. If they find me here, they’ll haul you away with me. And I’m very worried about Da
rian.”

“There is no need to worry. His Highness is
safe.”

“How do you
know?”

“I just
know.”

She didn’t respond but instead took a sip of tea. It was a momentary respite, warming her insides on its way down to her stomach. Feeling Eman’s eyes on her, she looked up and saw that he was smiling at her. “What i
s it?”

He looked at her shyly. “I am exceedingly pleased to see that you are wearing my gift,” he said, motioning to the am
ulet.

“It’s beaut
iful.”

“Tell me, Your Highness, how were you able to es
cape?”

“It was an absolute miracle! One of the warriors came into my room and cornered me in the closet, but, luckily, he didn’t find me. I was so sc
ared.”

He smiled gently. “You need not fear anything. It was not luck that saved you, but rather my amulet. It shielded you from evil
eyes.”

She glanced down at the amulet’s glow which seemed brighter than before. “Eman, does the amulet
have—”

He raised a hand, silencing her. “Someone is approaching. Please remember all that I told you this evening. It shall help you through your darkest moments. I shall miss you, dear c
hild.”

He got up from his chair, kissing her softly on the forehead just before a loud pounding at the door broke the peaceful sil
ence.

“Do not be afraid, I shall always be with you,” he said softly, moving to open the
door.

“No—
don’t!”
She lunged for him. “It’s probably
them!”

Her warning came too late as the bulky frames of two massive warriors filled the doorway. One of whom she recogn
ized.

“Deimos!” she whispered, rooted to the spot. In plain view of Savino’s men, there was no place for her to
hide.

“Where’s the fugitive?” he demanded, pushing his wa
y in.

Far too large to fit in such a small house, Deimos’ brawny body hunched over in a menacing pose as he studied
Eman.

“There is no fugitive here,” Eman answered ca
lmly.

“Do not suppose that you can deceive us, you foolish shepherd.” He motioned to a younger warrior who entered the house and immediately began to search it. “These tracks from Beauriél lead right up to your door. Now where is
she?”

“I have already told you—there is no fugitive here. See for yourse
lves.”

The younger warrior moved about the small room, searching under the bed, in the kitchen cupboard, even inside the wood
bin.

Marisa held her breath, diving under the table when Deimos moved past her. Lifting the tablecloth to glance questioningly at Eman, her eyes searched his, probing for any explanation. He answered with a peaceful s
mile.

Deimos stamped his foot against the floorboards, listening for any spaces that sounded hollow. Finding none, he clenched his jaw and glared at Eman. “Where is she?!” he shouted, his giant nose flaring in a
nger.

“I have hidden no one,” Eman replied, smiling softly at
her.

“We know she is here somewhere, and when we find her, you shall be executed for insubordination!” A hard knock at the door interrupted his tirade. When Deimos opened it, a third warrior stepped in
side.

“Sir, we apprehended two fugitives attempting to escape to Crocetta—a boy and a middle-aged man.” He motioned down the hill to where a warrior was shoving Mark and Alessio into the back of the wagon. “Are these the two His Highness is looking
for?”

“No, but throw them in the wagon anyway. Is there any sign of the
girl?”

“No, sir—just the
men.”

“Take this man along for questioning as well,” Deimos barked, pointing to
Eman.

Marisa bit her lip. She couldn’t allow them to take Eman instead of her. She crawled out from under the table. “I am here,” she announced with resigna
tion.

The warrior ignored her as he slapped the iron cuffs around Eman’s hands, shoving him out
side.

“Hey! Did you hear me?” she gestured, waving her arms at him. “I said I’m right
here.”

Eman looked at her, shaking his head as if her efforts were futile. He gave her a calm smile just before the door slammed shut and all of a sudden, the room was q
uiet.

Stunned that the warriors hadn’t seen or heard her, Marisa stared in awe at the glowing amulet, hearing Eman’s voice speaking the words from the night be
fore:

Its light from within shall cloak you from evil eyes whenever you wear it. Those with an impure heart shall be blinded to your presence.
She moved over to the tiny window and peered
out.