The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (35 page)

With his cheek lying flat against the wood, he lifted his eyes to the only window in the small cell. Up until that moment, the room had been completely dim with not even so much as a single torch to light it. But as he studied the thick metal bars in the window, a blinding light began to shine through it, immediately warming him to his very soul. Suddenly the room was illuminated with Garon’s light, and he beheld a magnificent beauty like none he had ever seen. Feeling light as a feather as he was drawn upwards into the cloud of peaceful tranquility, he never even felt the warrior’s blade as it sliced cleanly through his
neck.

“
Kill him!?”
Matilda exclaimed. “You are planning to kill Sa
vino?”

“He killed Darian and wants me dead too. I know he’s your brother, but we can’t afford to leave him in p
ower.”

She turned away. “There you are wrong,” she said, shaking her head. “He is not my brother. The Savino I know was destroyed long ago by the beast who now controls his
body.”

“But I don’t get it. Who or what exactly is controlling
him?”

Matilda sat on the bed, letting out a deep
sigh.

“Years ago when our mother died, Savino almost killed himself from grief. In his desperation, he went to a sorcerer who told him he could place Savino on the throne. For a p
rice.”

“And I’m guessing he went for it. How much did it
cost?”

“His life,” she whisp
ered.

Marisa pictured the creatures controlling him. “Is there any way to save the real Sa
vino?”

She shook her head. “I do not believ
e so.”

“Oh, Mattie!” Marisa hugged her, feeling pity for the courageous young woman who had lost everyone dear to her. “I don’t know what to
say.”

“There is nothing more to be said. I cannot save a brother who has no desire to be s
aved.”

Marisa shook her head. “I’m sorry, but time is ticking, and I’ve got to go find Talvan. He’s the only one who can get me in to see Eman before they kill
him.”

“Do you think you can sto
p it?”

She slipped her shoes on. “I don’t know, but I’ve gotta
try.”

“Talvan will be down in the Knight’s Hall, awaiting Savino’s daily briefing to the warriors. If you hurry, you might find
him.”

“Th
anks.”

“But please be careful. I could not bear to lose you now just when we are becoming fri
ends.”

“I’ll be careful, but please pray that Garon will keep us all safe. Will you still be here when I come
back?”

“Probably not. Savino has ordered everyone’s presence at the execution. I do not wish to go, but I have no ch
oice.”

“If I don’t see you before, just hang in there. If something happens to me, promise me you won’t give up the f
ight?”

“Hang in there?” she asked, puz
zled.

Marisa smiled. “It means to keep trying and never giv
e up.”

“Yes, I shall. And I will pray for safety.
Ap eirie
, Ma
risa.”

“
Ap eirie
, Mat
ilda.”

With one hand grasping the amulet, she stepped out into the hallway and shut the door. She crept down the corridor, stopping outside of Savino’s door and listening for any activity. Hearing none, she slipped down the main staircase and moved through the corr
idor.

Entering the Knight’s Hall, she suddenly ga
sped.

Rows upon rows of giant warriors from Savino’s mercenary army stood at attention, waiting to be addressed by their king. She ducked behind a pillar, slowly moving around it to get a better view at the thousands of troops that had been summoned and assem
bled.

After spotting Talvan near the rear, she bent down and searched the floor. Finding a tiny pebble, she threw it at him, hitting the back of his breastplate with a clinking sound. When he turned in her direction, she waved madly at him. His lips curled into a subtle smirk and he wagged a finger from his clasped hands to signal that he had seen
her.

As the door of the antechamber opened, all the noise in the hall immediately died down. With a no-nonsense expression on his face, Savino strode hastily to the front of the platform, followed by Lord Gaspar and a twelve-man entourage of bodyguards. He held up a hand for silence and cleared his throat to s
peak.

“Today is a historic day that shall be celebrated for generations to come. It will be remembered as the day that justice was at last vindicated. Once the blasphemous mouth has been silenced for eternity, it shall no longer thwart our plans for a united Carnelia. Only then can we claim victory in the name of our people. Faithful warriors of Crocetta, today I plead for your assistance to complete one urgent
task.

“Today you must be on special alert for other traitors who would attempt to stop or delay the execution. As you are already aware, there are generous rewards being offered for the capture and arrest of any surviving members of the Fiore family. We are, in fact, expecting their presence t
oday.

“Do not hesitate to arrest anyone you suspect of rebelling against the da Rocha regime. And also let me assure you that this painful transition period shall be short lived. Starting today, we will reinstate order and make Crocetta the center of Carnelia once again. I thank you for your continued diligence and loy
alty.”

He left the platform as quickly as he had appeared, whisked away by Gaspar and the bodyguards. The company of warriors was dismissed, most of the men leaving to carry out the orders of the day. Without a word, Talvan walked over to Marisa and took her arm, gently steering her into the Crimson antechamber. Making sure they had not been followed, he shut the door and gave her a broad s
mile.

“Your Highness, I am so happy to see that you are alive! The count said you were dead and I am so pleased to see it is not
true!”

“Thank you, Talvan. But now I’ve got to see Eman. Can you sneak m
e in?”

“Yes, but we must hurry.” His face grew somber. “Your Highness, Cozimo is
dead.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What? Cozim
o—no!”

“I am very s
orry.”

She sank into a chair, willing it not to be true. The sweet elderly man who had taught her so much in such a short time was dead. What was happening to their w
orld?

“Your Highness, we must go now. Are you r
eady?”

She wiped the moisture from her eyes and no
dded.

“Follow close behind,” he said, peering into the empty
hall.

With Marisa close on his heels, Talvan moved quickly through the Knight’s Hall and down a flight of steps. It was the same staircase she had been using all along. Passing the wine cellar, they spotted two guards at the end of the corridor, guarding a door. Talvan strode over to them, puffing up his chest with autho
rity.

“You are to report to Captain Leone and receive new or
ders.”

“But sir, our orders were to guard the prisoner until the hour before his execu
tion—”

“These are your
new
orders, corporal!” he barked at him. “I am to guard the prisoner until
then.”

The warriors exchanged bewildered gla
nces.

“Do you actually think the king would entrust such an important task to men such as yourse
lves?”

“Yes, sir! I mean, no, sir! I mean, we will report to Captain Leone for new orders,
sir!”

Watching the men hurry down the corridor, Talvan winked at her. “Please be quick. We do not have much
time.”

“Thank you.” She stood on her tiptoes, hugging his waist. When he opened the door, she spotted Eman sitting in the darkness, praying. As the light from her amulet filled the room, he glanced up at her, his eyes m
oist.

“Your Highness, I’m so glad you’ve
come.”

She threw her arms around him. “Why is this happe
ning?”

With his arms bound in chains to the floor, he was unable to reciprocate her hug. “Still, my child. All is well and all is as it should be. Do not fear for my sake, for Garon’s purposes are not to be questi
oned.”

“I can get you out of here. Look, I still have the Ambrogia stone. You can walk right out and they won’t even see you.” She began to remove it, but he shook his
head.

“No, dear one. You shall need it for what lies ahead. Hold on to it tightly and hold on to
hope.”

“But you have to leave before they come for you,” she pleaded. “I’ll stay in your place. I’ve got nothing left to live for an
yway.”

His brown eyes warmed with compassion. “Sweet Marisa, you have everything left to live for. Do you not understand that you were brought into this world for such a time as
this?”

“But—”

“If you should take my place and be put to death, it would corrupt your purpose and mine. I must die so that others might live, but you have yet to fulfill your des
tiny.”

“What destiny? The man who was a part of it is
dead.”

“You must fulfill your des
tiny!”

“But I am only one woman against an army of evil
men!”

“Never underestimate the power of Garon. The proud shall be defeated by the humble. But you must believe and you must have f
aith.”

“Eman, will I ever see you a
gain?”

He smiled. “Look into your heart and you shall find the answer. Trust in Garon and pray that his wisdom shall be made known to
you.”

“Is this the
end?”

“No. It is only the begin
ning.”

“But how
can—”

“Go quickly now! Someone is approac
hing.”

She jumped up and flattened herself against the wall just as the door burst open. A group of warriors spilled into the tiny
room.

“Time to go, shepherd!” a burly commander bell
owed.

Talvan entered behind the others, watching silently as the soldier unhooked Eman’s chains from the floor. Then they pulled him up from the chair and shoved him through the doorway. With the rest of the warriors marching after, the chamber quickly emptied, leaving only Talvan be
hind.

She looked at Eman one last time as his woeful eyes met hers. He mouthed the words
ap eirie
just before they guided him down into the tu
nnel.

As soon as he was out of sight, she collapsed onto the stool, the imminence of his doom piercing her heart. “Where are they taking him now?” she asked in a weak v
oice.

“He is being prepared for the execu
tion.”

“Isn’t there anything you ca
n do?”

“Alas, Your Highness. I am powerless to sto
p it.”

“I can’t believe this is happe
ning!”

“You must leave the citadel now. See that you are far away when it happens, or you shall suffer the same fate a
s he.”

She shook her head. “I’m not running away. Savino must be stopped, even if I have to risk my own life to d
o it.”

“Go now,” he ple
aded.

“Pray for Garon’s mercy on all of us. I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” she said, giving him a hug. Strong arms engulfed her one last
time.

“
Ap eirie
, my q
ueen.”

“
Ap eirie
, Ta
lvan.”

She hurried down the corridor leading out toward the stables, planning to slip out through the rampart tunnel before the execution started. After that, she had no clue where she was g
oing.

CHAPTER 33

MARTYR

With more than an hour to go before the execution was set to take place, the narrow streets near the main gate of the citadel were already overflowing with crowds. Savino had issued a public decree that all townspeople should appear for the public execution. Those who chose to ignore the ordinance would suffer the conseque
nces.

Wondering how Savino’s warriors would know if a person didn’t show, Marisa shinnied up a trellis, pulling herself over the edge of a rooftop terrace. Hunkering down behind a large flowerbox, she observed the hundreds of people milling about in the street. From the terrace, she had a clear view to the staging area only sixty or so paces
away.

Up on the rampart wall, scaffolds had been constructed for the official guests and a royal box had been installed for Savino. The dignitaries started to arrive, taking their seats as the noise from the streets grew louder with anticipa
tion.

Marisa scanned the faces in the crowd, but there was no sign of her uncle, Cinzia, Helena and Tino. Gazing out across the rooftops, she spotted the rear garden of Celino’s house but, not seeing any movement inside the house, she prayed that none of them had been captured. She pulled her cloak tightly around her, watching the dark, gray storm clouds moving in from the ocean and making their way across the harbor. A bolt of lightning zigzagged on the horizon, sending a shiver down her s
pine.

And somehow she sensed that it would be a very dark day in the city; one of the darkest days in the history of Carnelia, in
fact.

“Right this way, Your Highness.” The white-haired proprietor huffed loudly as he led the men up the narrow staircase. Reaching a door at the top, he pulled out a spiral-shaped key and unlocked it, allowing Darian to enter first. Porfiro, Patrizio, Adamo, Ilario, Aurelio and Loris followed, the last one carrying a heavy
sack.

The room was spacious but basic, furnished only with four beds, a large wooden table and six chairs. There was no fire burning in the hearth, but they would not need one for the short time they would be occupying the room. Darian opened the doors of the balcony and peered out, hastily studying the layout of the streets below. The main gate of the citadel and the royal box located just above it were both within range of the bal
cony.

“This is perfect,” he said to the propri
etor.

“Excellent, Your High
ness.”

“And I am certain that we can be assured of your absolute discretion, can we not, Orsinio?” he suggested, placing two silver coins in the man’s greedy
palm.

“Your Highness, I remain your humble servant,” he said, bowing. “My loyalty lies with the Fiore family, not with that tyrant calling himself king. Even if you are worth another thirty thousand carnies!” He nodded to them and scurried out, closing the door behind him. Darian turned to the
men.

“Baron Porfiro, Lord Patrizio, please set things up while I survey the situation at ground l
evel.”

The men nodded to him as he opened the door and headed down the stairs. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and peered out the front windows of the lobby, making sure there were no warriors in s
ight.

Seeing none, he slipped out the front door and edged through the crowds toward the main gate. He reached the front door of Celino’s house and knocked on it loudly, pausing only for a moment before knocking again, this time louder. When there was no response, he shaded his eyes and peered through the wi
ndow.

E
mpty.

Spotting a group of warriors on the other side of the street chatting and laughing, he turned his face away and hurried up the road toward the main citadel square, hiding behind a large tree just a few paces away from the execution staging area. Warrior guards had been posted everywhere, and Savino’s royal standard had been prominently displayed above the portcullis for everyone to
see.

Rubbing his bushy beard in silent thought, he studied the layout of the guest seats up on the scaffolding. He had but one chance to hit the target and could not afford to miss. Satisfied with his assessment of the situation, he slipped around the less-congested eastern side of the rampart wall and nearly jumped out of his
skin.

Standing face-to-face with the decapitated heads of his soldiers, friends, and compatriots, Darian studied their grisly faces, clenching his jaw in anger as the hate for his cousin flared in his heart. For the very first time in his life, he actually looked forward to killing som
eone.

Tino and Alessio returned to Celino’s house to find Cinzia and Helena chatting nervously in the kitchen, both of them fraught with worry. “Someone was here—at the door,” Cinzia
said.

“And you didn’t see who it
was?”

“No,” Helena said. “There was no time to go down into the cellar, so we hid in the library. Whoever it was knocked t
wice!”

“I hope it was not Her Royal Highness,” Tino
said.

“Or A
rrie.”

“What were you able to find
out?”

“Not much,” Alessio said. “Savino’s men are preparing for the execution and the streets are jam packed, but that’s about it. Although I absolutely abhor the idea, I think we shoul
d go.”

“I agree.” Tino nodded. “But we need to h
urry!”

When the hand on the half-moon clock of the citadel tower was only five minutes away from the noon hour, the crowds were so heavy that a person could almost not move. Thirty extra warriors had been posted around the rampart rim just to control the throngs of people. Most of the royal guests had arrived and were already seated in their places high on the wall. Several of them glanced nervously into the sky, hoping the execution would end before the heavens opened and the rain
came.

Up in the top chamber of the inn, five men sat around the wooden table, their faces somber as they waited for the exhibition to begin. When Darian entered the chamber, they rose to their
feet.

“See anything interesting?” Porfiro a
sked.

He removed his cloak, shaking his head. “Only the heads of the men we lost at the Mychen Forest. Savino shall pay for the horrible things he has
done.”

Just then, the clock struck twelve and the bells in the citadel tower began to peal. Each of the men swiftly assumed his position at various places around the room. Darian turned to L
oris.

“You must leave now, squire. My conscience cannot bear the thought of you being beheaded along with the rest o
f us.”

“But where am I to go, Your High
ness?”

“Go back to your uncle who is now at the citadel. Lord Raniero remains in Savino’s favor.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins, placing them in Loris’ hand. “A little something to tide you over. But no one must know that you accompanied us from Abb
adon.”

“But I was not supposed to leave the castle. How will I explain this to my u
ncle?”

“You shall think of something, squire,” he said, eyeing him impatiently. “Wait until the execution is over before you return to the castle, though. Your only chance of staying alive is if you are nowhere nea
r us.”

Loris bowed in deep respect. “I shall never forget your kindness, Your Highness. And, if I am questioned, I shall not mention you or your
men.”

Darian slapped him on the back. “I hope to meet up with you again, squire. I could use a respectable man like you at c
ourt.”

“It would be my honor, Sire.” He bowed and left the
room.

Darian watched him leave, shutting the door behind him before moving back over to the window. “Oh no,” he groaned, staring out across the roof
tops.

“What is it, Your Highness?” Porfiro a
sked.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the royal box. “Matilda is seated to Savino’s left. If I shoot from this range and miss, the arrow will pierce
her.”

“Then do not miss,” Porfiro answered. “Take your best aim, pray for the best and trust Garon to do the
rest.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It is my aim that I do not t
rust.”

The bells in the citadel tower rang out as Marisa’s eyes roamed the crowds. Her uncle, Cinzia, Tino and Helena would be out among the people somewhere, but finding them now would be nearly impossible. Spotting the prisoner procession slowly crossing the courtyard, her heart sank like an anchor to the bottom of the o
cean.

Surrounded on all sides by warriors, Eman’s bare feet were chained together, his hands held together in manacles. He fought to keep from stumbling as he was led across the uneven cobblestones. His face appeared haggard and a streak of dried blood stretched from his temple to his cheek. He walked with a slight limp, each step causing him to wince in
pain.

The warriors led him down into the tunnel under the rampart where they waited for the portcullis to slowly open. When it had been fully raised, they led him into the square just outside the citadel walls where a large pit had been dug with three metal stakes sticking up from it. The pit had been filled with water and a solid piece of wood floated on its surface like a raft. When the procession finally reached the pit, the warriors stopped and the crowd became si
lent.

Somewhere a baby cried. The sky grew dark as storm clouds moved in over the city. And in the final moments before her good friend would be put to death, Marisa felt frozen, trapped in a living nightmare. Of all the strange things she had seen since her arrival in Carnelia, the sight of Eman marching to his doom was the most horrific, the most awful and the most tragic event she had ever witne
ssed.