The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

“Lord Drago, just a moment, please. Would you be so kind as to wait here?”

  The portly nobleman hesitated, nodding. “Certainly.” He plunked down in a plush chair next to the household staff.

  Darian shut the door and leaned against it. “Well, it would appear that we have found our traitor.”

  “I thought the Paladins were supposed to be incorruptible.”

  “As did I.”

  “Wasn’t he the one who had advised us to split up into different locations?”

  “Yes.” Darian balled his hand into a fist. “Savino knew that he could get to you at Beauriél, away from my protection.”

  “So you think Drago is loyal to Savino?”

  He smiled at her naiveté. “Yes, my love.”

  “Do you think there are others?”

  “Do you mean in addition to the ones that have already defected to Abbadon? Perhaps. But they too shall be revealed.”

  “What are you going to do with him?” she asked, motioning to the corridor.

  “He shall be arrested right away. We cannot have him running off to warn Savino.”

  “And the others?”

  “We must be certain we can trust them.”

  “Send them in,” she answered, her heart heavy as she returned to the cloakroom.

  After the remaining staff members had each pledged their allegiance, Darian and Marisa were relieved that no other traitors had been found. Then they called an emergency family council.

  When Arrie, Tino, Bruno, Domenico, Cozimo, Cinzia, Adalina, Helena and Lady Matilda had all assembled in the Crimson antechamber, Marisa explained what had happened.

  Cinzia became fraught with worry once she heard her husband had been captured, but Darian rushed to reassure her. “I am certain that Alessio and the others are still alive,” he said. “Savino is only using them to lure us to him. It is us he wants, not them.”

  “What are you planning to do?” Helena asked.

  “Savino has declared war on Crocetta. We have no choice but to march on Abbadon and bring them home.”

  “Son, are you certain that is the wisest option?”

  “If Savino cannot capture us, he may eventually decide to kill Alessio and Prince Marcus. We cannot just sit here and wait for that to happen—we must strike him first and hit hard.”

  “What about Savino’s warriors down in the valley?” Marisa asked. “What do you plan to do about them?”

  “They have moved out of the area; probably headed back to Abbadon.”

  “What news from our spies?” Adalina asked.

  “We have not heard from them in days,” Tino answered. “I can only pray that they have not been discovered and killed.”

  “Your Highnesses, we should begin our plan of attack on Abbadon now!” Bruno slammed a balled fist onto the table.

  “How long will it take for us to move out?” Darian asked.

  “If we get started right away, we could be ready to leave at sunset.”

  Marisa stared in disbelief. “What? You’re leaving today?”

  “That still gives them a full day’s lead,” Arrie remarked grimly.

  “And each moment we stand here discussing it is another moment wasted,” Darian said. “Who is coming and who is staying?”

  “If I was twenty years younger, I would be the first to volunteer,” Cozimo offered. “But now, I might have a problem keeping up with you young people.”

  Darian gave him a patient smile. “And we cannot afford to lose you, Lord Arroyo. You are much too valuable here.”

  “I’m coming,” Marisa said.

  “No, you are not,” he answered firmly.

  “But—”

  “You are the Princess Regent, and we cannot—”

  “It’s my uncle and brother out there! It should have been me in that wagon, not them.”

  “Dearest, if the warriors had discovered you last night, you would have been killed, not captured,” Arrie said matter-of-factly. “You simply cannot go marching into their midst.” He turned to Darian. “I am coming with you. I want to go get my father and bring him home.”

  “No, Arrie, you will stay here with Marisa, my mother, Matilda and Adalina. I would feel much better knowing that you are here with them.”

  He nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  Matilda spoke up. “I will come along. You shall need someone who knows the secret passageways in and out of that castle.”

  “I do not think that would be wise, Mattie. It will be extremely dangerous,” Darian said.

  Her bright blue eyes flashed at him. “But Savino trusts me. We should use that to our advantage.”

  “She has a point, Your Highness,” Bruno agreed, smiling shyly. “Lady Matilda just may be our golden pathway into the castle.”

  Marisa’s jaw dropped. “Matilda’s going, but I’m not?”

  Darian stood. “Your Highness, will you come with me for a moment? There is something urgent I need to discuss with you in private. We shall return in a few moments.”

  He opened the door and steered her into the Knight’s Hall. Closing it behind them, he lowered his voice.

  “Please think clearly about this. You must remain here. If something should happen to me, Crocetta would still have you.”

  “But I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “And I do not intend to allow anything to happen.”

  Her eyes were moist. “But you can’t—”

  “We cannot go together on this journey—do you not see that? Savino would like nothing more than to kill one of us while the other one watches and will if given the chance. He is only interested in taking his revenge.”

  “Revenge,” she echoed. “Then we’re doomed.”

  He shook his head. “Not if we stand our ground. And that means we fight back, which is why we are going to Abbadon. I intend to strike Savino so hard that he will never be able to hurt us ever again.”

  “Darian, I have an awful feeling about this.” She reached down, taking his hand in hers. “Something isn’t right, but I can’t put my finger on it. Don’t go.”

  “Please trust me—just as you always have,” he pleaded, squeezing her hand gently. “I need for you to believe in me. Now, more than ever.” His grip on her tightened, his eyes solicitous.

  She saw something in them that she had never seen before. What was it? Vulnerability? Did the mighty Prince Darian have a weak spot? And if so, what was his kryptonite? In the way he looked at her, she already knew the answer. “I do believe in you,” she whispered. “Always.”

  “That is all I wanted to hear.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it. “Come, time is ticking away, and the others are waiting for us.”

  He held the door of the antechamber open as the conversations around the table suddenly ceased. The two of them sat down and Darian turned his attention to Bruno and Luca seated halfway down the table. “How many men will we need?”

  “We cannot do it with less than a thousand men,” Bruno replied without batting an eye.

  “That many?”

  “Our men are well-trained and sufficiently equipped, but against Savino’s warriors, we shall need the numbers in our favor.”

  “That seems about right, Your Highness,” Tino interjected.

  “Do we have enough men?”

  Luca shook his head. “We will need to recruit some locals from the city. The small army we posted at Beauriél was utterly decimated last night—only two men survived the attack. Even if we are able to raise a thousand to march on Abbadon, there will not be many left to guard the citadel.”

  “So how are we supposed to defend ourselves?” Marisa asked.

  “Do not worry, Your Highness,” Bruno answered. “We shall leave a sufficient contingent behind to guard the citadel.”

  “Then it is settled,” Darian said, rising to his feet. “Bruno, Domenico and Tino, go round up the men and plot our attack.” The three men nodded to Darian and hastily exited the chamber.

  “Mattie,
please prepare for the journey. We leave at dusk.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.” She bobbed a quick curtsey and floated out of the chamber.

  “Mother, I shall come to your chambers in a little while, but right now I need a few minutes with Marisa.”

  “As you wish.” Helena nodded and turned to go with Adalina trailing behind.

  “Baroness? Lord Arroyo? Thank you—that will be all.” He nodded to Cinzia and Tino, dismissing them. They stood and made their way out of the antechamber, leaving only Darian, Arrie and Marisa.

  “Do you think they are still alive?” Arrie asked as soon as his mother had left the room.

  “They are alive,” Darian answered. “Savino is planning to use them as leverage—or bait. Perhaps even both.”

  “How fast can you get there?” Marisa asked.

  “We should arrive the day after tomorrow if we take the shortcut through the Mychen Forest. But it will depend on the depth of the snow between here and Abbadon.”

  “What! Please don’t tell me you’re going through the forest with those—things?!”

  “Do not worry,” he said reassuringly. “The rijgen hibernate in winter. We shall not even see them.”

  “Hibernate? When will they come out again?”

  “Not until early spring,” Arrie said, rising from his chair. “Well, Bruno may need some help in stocking the weapons, so if I am no longer needed here…”

  Marisa stopped him. “Wait—I need to ask you a favor.”

  “For you, cousin, anything. What is it?”

  “I had to leave Beauriél in a hurry last night. Jackson is still out there. At least, I think he is, unless the warriors have done something to him. I was afraid he’d bark the whole time and give me away. Would you please go get him and bring him back here?”

  “Of course, Your Highness. I shall ride out there straight away on Concrete and return before the battle detail leaves.” He gave her a quick smile and disappeared.

  “Please be careful!” she called after him.

  When Darian and Marisa were alone, neither of them spoke for a moment. They both had so much to say, but so little time to say it. Darian finally broke the silence.

  “I do not wish to leave you, but the men need a leader to march on Abbadon.”

  She leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t want you to go. And I’m not just being selfish. I have a very bad feeling about this.”

  He touched her cheek. “My love, you must not worry. It should take us only a day or two to march to Abbadon. There will be some casualties, of course, but we must try to save Alessio, Marcus and Eman while we still can.”

  She nodded gloomily.

  “I shall be back in time for your coronation next week.”

  “That’s not it.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes. “You’ve got to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid. I can’t do this without you.”

  “I promise,” he said, leaning in close.

  “No crazy risks?”

  “None whatsoever,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. He planted a trail of soft kisses across her face, finally reaching her mouth. Then his lips demanded more as he took her face in his hands, the warmth of his touch stirring her. As he slowly pulled away, she groaned in protest.

  “We shall be together again soon, and it will be as if I had never left. Will you take care of my mother and sister while I am gone?”

  “You know I will.”

  “I need to speak to them now, but I shall be back to take my leave.” He kissed her once more before turning to go down to the armory.

  Marisa laid her head against the back of the chair, watching his cloak sway behind him as he strode away. She hoped with all her heart that Alessio, Mark, and Eman were all still alive.

  CHAPTER 16

  ADIEU

  With every bump in the road, Alessio, Eman and Mark were tossed off the hard wooden benches, their iron chains clanging in protest. They had been traveling for several hours without stopping, and no one had bothered to check and see if they were okay.

  Mark rubbed and flexed his fingers, trying to keep them warm. Although he had been trying to remain calm about their situation, each time he glanced up at his uncle, that tense expression made him worry all the more. He’d seen that exact same look of concern many times before on his father’s face, and he knew there was something he wasn’t telling them. Even Eman seemed uncharacteristically somber, hardly speaking a word.

  “Uncle Al, do you know where we are?” Mark asked.

  “It just doesn’t make any sense,” Alessio mumbled, staring out the window.

  “What doesn’t?”

  “We’re going around in circles. We can’t be more than ten miles from Crocetta.” He motioned to the window above Mark’s head. “Those are the Crocine Mountains in the distance.”

  As the wagon jerked to a stop, Alessio turned to peer out his own window at the hordes of warriors dismounting and removing supplies from their horses. They were pitching tents everywhere. He nudged Eman gently. “Do you have any idea what they’re planning?”

  “It is rather difficult to say, but it does appear that they are setting up camp for the night,” the shepherd answered, watching the bustle of activity around him. Just then, the lock on the rear door of the wagon clanked loudly and then opened.

  “Get out!” a scraggly, pudgy warrior growled at them.

  They stood up and moved to the open door, their chains making it difficult for them to climb out. When Eman didn’t move fast enough to suit the warrior, he reached in and grabbed him by the tunic, throwing him outside. Eman tripped over the chained manacles on his feet, falling as a bumbling heap into the snow.

  “Move it!” the warrior barked impatiently.

  Holding his hands up in submission, Mark jumped down, his uncle following close behind. A second warrior joined the first in jeering at their discomfort, shoving Mark with such force that he lost his balance and tripped over Eman still lying in the snow. Both warriors roared with laughter.

  Mark helped Eman up off the snow, glancing at the warrior towering above him. When the giant of a man sneered cruelly at him, he noticed that the warrior had a large gold tooth in front. The soldier grabbed his arm and forced him over to a large tent, pushing him inside. Then the pudgy warrior shoved Eman and Alessio into the tent as three other warriors took their posts at the entrance.

  Inside, there was a small table and three bed mats sprawled out across the floor, each one covered in blankets. Mark shuddered, realizing that they would be sleeping on the cold ground in the dead of winter.

  “Come and eat the meal they’ve prepared for us,” Alessio said. “It may be our last for a while.” They sat as Eman solemnly bowed his head and began to pray.

  “Garon, our Father in Syion, we thank you for providing us with this sustenance. We ask that you stay with us and guide us through whatever dark times may lay ahead. Thy will be done, Amen.”

  Mark stared in amazement. Eman seemed so peaceful, so unconcerned about everything that was happening around them. As the wheels of his mind spun, imagining all the horrible things that the warriors would do to them, the simple shepherd seemed to take it all in stride. How could he remain calm at a time like this?

  Without warning, the gold-toothed warrior burst into the tent and sauntered over to the table. When he grabbed Mark’s plate and started eating his food with his hands, Mark jumped up in anger.

  Alessio restrained him, whispering in English, “Don’t. It’s not worth getting killed over.”

  The warrior tossed the plate on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before storming out of the tent. Mark looked at his overturned plate, sighing in dismay. His dinner was strewn all across the dirty floor.

  “Here—take mine,” Eman offered. “I am not hungry.” He pushed his plate in front of Mark, smiling at him kindly.

  Mark exchanged quick glances with his uncle before accepting Eman’s food. The shepherd got
up from the table and laid down on one of the mats, pulling the blankets up over him. After they finished the meal, Alessio suggested that they all get into their beds.

  Slipping off the too-small shoes Marisa had given him the night before, Mark laid down on his side, exhausted. Almost as soon as he’d pulled the blanket over him, he fell fast asleep.

  Listening to Alessio snoring softly, Eman rolled over on his side, watching the two men sleeping peacefully. Praying silently for courage in the dark days ahead, he smiled sadly to himself, realizing how much he was going to miss them all.

  Marisa waited impatiently for the time when she would bid Darian farewell. She picked up her mother’s diary from the table next to her bed and opened it.

  Staring down at the words that refused to register, she read the same paragraph three times. Realizing that it was no use, she finally put the book down, her eyes resting on the almond-sized language translator next to it.

  She picked up the small device and rolled it softly between her fingers, remembering the day that Darian had given it to her on the road to Abbadon. So much had happened in the time since then that it was hard to believe it had only been a few short months ago.

  In the meantime, she’d almost mastered the Crocine language and didn’t even need the translator anymore. The tiny, technological device had become more of a sentimental souvenir than a useful tool.

  She gazed out the windows across the snow-capped mountains. Just when life was finally starting to get back to some sort of normal, everything had suddenly been turned on its axis once again. Her brother, her uncle and a friend had all been captured by her enemy. Her fiancé was heading into battle possibly never to return and nothing seemed certain anymore.

  Tired of trying to catch the numerous curve balls being thrown at her from every direction, she flopped onto her stomach and snuggled into her pillow, wondering if life would ever settle down into some quiet form of existence.

  Before she had come to Carnelia, she had actually believed that she had some degree of control over her life. But once she’d traveled through the vortex, it became clear that nearly everything was out of her hands. People who imagined they had control over their lives were only kidding themselves.