The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (42 page)

The main course had been served and the intimate group gathered around the table was chatting quietly over drinks when suddenly, the main door of the Knight’s Hall swung open with a loud boom. The conversations around the table quickly died down as a man wearing a long, white tunic entered the hall, striding toward them with purpose. He approached the table, taking the empty seat at its
head.

Recognizing his black hair, brown eyes and warm smile, Marisa jumped up to hug him. “Eman!” she exclaimed, kneeling next to him as her heart pounded with joy. Cinzia and Helena hurried over to join her as Eman turned to look at each one of them dire
ctly.

“But how is it possible?” Marisa asked. “You’re a
live!”

“No, you are dead!” Helena shook her head in disbelief as she pointed at him with a shaky hand. “I watched you die in front o
f me!”

Eman smiled, touching her hand. “I am not an apparition as you can see. I am a
live.”

“It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, and believe me, I’ve seen a lot!” Celino said. “King Bertoldo’s ship had almost reached the harbor, and I was up on deck. We looked out over the water and saw a man
walking
right toward us, just as if he were walking down the street! I thought I was seeing things, but we all saw it; hundreds of men on every ship in the fleet saw him walking across the water. Then I saw that it was
Eman!”

Alessio’s voice cracked. “The warriors told me you were to be buried at sea—a criminal’s bu
rial.”

“Some may consider me a criminal,” he remarked so
ftly.

“You are The One, aren’t you?” she a
sked.

“
I AM.”

The ground shook as an earthquake rumbled through the city. The crystal in the chandeliers clinked as they swayed back and forth. The quake quickly subsided as they all stared at him in
awe.

“Amazing,” Tino
said.

“But what does all this mean?” she asked, searching his eyes. “I’m not familiar with the ancient Ambrogian script
ures.”

“My child, you are no stranger to my Father’s word,” Eman answered, gazing intently at her. “For you have been learning my ways since the time of your b
irth.”

“Does that mean that you are the
same—?”

“I am the same today and tomorrow as I was yesterday. Or even more than two thousand years ago,” he said, smiling knowi
ngly.

“Incredible,” she said, shaking her
head.

“Your Highness, maybe this will help,” Celino said, rising from his chair. He walked over to Marisa, unfolding a scrap of paper and handing it to
her.

“Oh, yes!” Recognizing the page that had been torn from Celino’s Carnelian history book, she began to read the text a
loud:

The Ambrogia Stone was the most sacred gem in the temple through which Garon communicated to the priests in the early days of the city. The intense purple hue of the stone signified its divine nature and was used for years by the priests to discern the will of Garon for his people. No other stone or gem like it has ever been found in Carnelia, further reinforcing the notion that its origins were divine in nature. Although no other accounts of the stone have ever been recorded, traditional belief holds that an ancient scripture was engraved on the original rock as prop
hecy:

‘When the temperate flower has split the indomitable rock with a single blow, the Defender will appear in the hearts of the true belie
vers
.’

According to legend, the stone cracked and splintered when Garon expressed his anger at the priests for their rebellion and that of the people of Ambrogia. The fate of the precious shards of the stone remains a mystery, although some have suggested that its pieces still remain in existence. They are believed to possess mystical, divine powers and remain highly sought after even to this
day.

There was a moment of silence before Alessio cleared his throat. “My dearest niece, I believe that today you just helped fulfill an ancient prophecy,” he said sole
mnly.

Eman smiled at her, nodding ge
ntly.

“But—I still don’t ge
t it.”

“Ah, a riddle! Let’s pick this apart, shall we?” Alessio rubbed his hands together. “Uh, okay. What’s another word used to describe ‘tempe
rate’?”

“Gentle, modest,” Cinzia
said.

“Very good. Now, how about ‘indomit
able?’”

“It means ruthless,” Porfiro offered, taking a sip of
wine.

He turned to Marisa. “What is your last
name?”

“F
iore.”

“And what is the literal meaning of Fiore,
Tino?”

“It means fl
ower.”

“Correct. And what does the name da Rocha
mean?”

Tino nodded, ashamed he did not see it sooner. “The
rock.”

“Correct again. So now let’s replace all of those words and read it again out loud, shal
l we?”

Marisa read the words. “
When the gentle Fiore has split the ruthless da Rocha with a single blow, the Defender will appear in the hearts of the true belie
vers
.’”

Marisa looked at Eman. “You’re the Defe
nder.”

He sm
iled.

Her smile quickly faded. “Does this mean that we are living in the tyrannical age that was prophesized in the ancient script
ures?”

“What does your heart tell
you?”

“That you are here to save us
all.”

He nodded. “The battle is only just begin
ning.”

She removed the amulet from around her neck, handing it to him. “I believe I have something of y
ours.”

He shook his head. “No, it was my gift to you.” He placed it into the palm of her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Keep it. You will still need it in the age to
come.”

“Thank you, Eman. For everything.” She kissed his cheek and sat down again. The meal was served as the chatter around the table grew lo
uder.

Eman observed the guests chatting softly and noticed someone who was not enjoying her meal. He watched the young woman as she sat quietly, staring down at her plate. As a single tear slipped down her delicate cheek, his eyes warmed with compas
sion.

“Why do you weep, mi
lady?”

When Matilda looked up at him, tears spilled from her bright blue eyes. “Why is there no chair for Savino?” she demanded, her cry echoing through the
hall.

No one answ
ered.

“You all think that because my brother was a horrible man he does not deserve a chair? That he does not deserve the decency to be rememb
ered?”

Marisa stared uncomfortably at Darian and knew what he was thinking. What they were all thinking. The faces around the table were bowed in collective s
hame.

“Well, I knew Savino before he became the monster. I remember him as the little boy who spent all afternoon in a field picking wild flowers for our mother when she was sick. I thrived on his kindness and generosity at a time when my father would not even acknowledge me as his daughter. I knew him as the teenager who saved a litter of kittens from drowning after some old fool had thrown them into the river. And I loved him when he was the compassionate shoulder I cried on the day our mother died. I shall never forget
him!”

She pushed her chair away from the table and hurried out of the hall, sob
bing.

“Everyone, please follow me,” Eman said quietly, rising to his feet. He followed her into the Crimson antechamber where he found her standing next to the table. He took her in his
arms.

“Now young lady, dry your tears and come wit
h me.”

He guided her out of the Knight’s Hall and down the corridor. Opening the large oaken door for her, he took her hand, leading her outside as everyone followed behind. They walked across the courtyard to the eastern wall and down the stone steps to the Royal Crimson Sepulcher. When they reached the door, Eman saw that it was locked. He simply pushed it open and entered, leading Matilda by the
hand.

It was dim inside the crypt with only the lights of a few candles still burning. The air was damp and musty and it smelled of decay. Eman waited until everyone was inside before he descended the steps down to the royal c
rypt.

Marisa had never been in there before, but the sight of the caskets in all the alcoves was creepy. The smell made her sick and she covered her nose with her skirt. She spotted the plain wooden crypt in the far corner where Savino’s body had been placed two days earlier without pomp or cere
mony.

Eman guided Matilda over to the coffin as everyone watched. He stood up straight, closing his eyes and stretching his hand out toward it. “Savino! Wake up and arise!” he comma
nded.

As they all stared in amazement, the lid of Savino’s coffin was pushed aside from the inside and crashed to the ground. Slowly he sat up, removing the cloths that had been hastily wrapped around his body. Cinzia and Helena both fel
l onto their knees, watching in awe as the dead man climbed out of the ca
sket.

Savino’s eyes blinked rapidly and his hands trembled with fear the moment he saw Eman. “Forgive me, please forgive me, please,” he cried, weeping on the ground near his feet. “Please forgiv
e me.”

Eman reached down, gently taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. “You are forgiven, young Savino. You are free of those horrible beasts now. Never let them back in a
gain.”

“I shall not!” he cried. “I pro
mise.”

Tears quickly formed in Marisa’s eyes. She placed her hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her. “Savino, please forgiv
e me.”

“Cousin, it is I who needs forgiveness.” His voice cracked as he caught her in a firm embrace. Matilda rushed over and threw herself around him. Savino clung to his sister tightly as both of them were wracked with sobs. All of the pain and hurt that he had caused others suddenly consumed him in one large gulf of rem
orse.

“Shhh,” Matilda whispered softly. “Let it go, brother. I forgive you. It is in the past. You are forg
iven.”

“No.” He shook his head, ashamed. “I can never be forgiven for what I have done. N
ever.”

Darian watched his cousin silently, his arms crossed as his mother pinked away a tear. Cinzia rested her head against Alessio’s shoulder, both of them smiling with
joy.

Eman stepped up close, placing his hand around Savino’s neck and regarding him in earnest. “You are forgiven, young man, for now and for always. Your heart must accept this in order for you to move for
ward.”

Savino’s gaze fell to the floor, ashamed of all he had
done.

“Come, everyone,” Eman said, “Let us leave this place of death and return to the house of the li
ving.”

As everyone emerged once again from the crypt, Savino leaned against Matilda, his body still weak. She helped him climb the stairs, smiling tearfully at him. Everyone was chatting in amazement about what they had just witnessed as they made their way back toward the Knight’s
Hall.

Lost in her thoughts, Marisa broke off from the group to climb the steps on the western rampart. Her body shivered in the cold as she gazed out at the setting sun. Darian moved up behind her, placing his cloak around her shoul
ders.

“You are still sick. Do you think you should be out
here?”

“I’ll be
okay.”

“Something troubles
you.”

She turned to him. “What happened to Raniero’s
body?”

Darian took a deep breath. “I do not know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “We never found it a
gain.”

“So what happened exactly after I fai
nted?”

“I still do not know. His body was lying right there on the floor, motionless. I sent Loris to get help and then Savino’s warriors came into the room. When I told them to remove the bodies, I looked back and saw that he was
gone.”

“But are you sure he was dead? Could he have snuck away when you weren’t loo
king?”

He shook his head. “Raniero never could have walked out of there without someone seeing it. The main door was bolted shut and I was facing the antechamber door the entire
time.”

“And nobody has seen him s
ince?”

“No.” He shook his
head.