The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

  “Then you have been most blessed indeed.”

  “I feel so fortunate to have found him and I can’t stand the thought of losing him now.”

  “I know, dear, but you must have faith.”

  “Faith that he won’t get killed?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Faith that you shall have the strength to face whatever happens. Whatever happens.”

  “Wake up!” a warrior shouted, barging into the tent. “Be ready to move out in ten minutes!” He kicked Alessio, Mark and Eman each in the back to wake them.

  Startled out of a deep sleep, Mark sat up, his heart pounding with a rush of adrenaline. He could see that it was still dark outside and guessed it was probably somewhere around four in the morning.

  “Where are we going?” Alessio asked, groggy from sleep.

  “Silence!” the warrior barked at him.

  The three men stood up, keeping their blankets wrapped tightly around them as they braved the cold night air. Eman’s countenance was calm and peaceful as they emerged from the tent, but there was a look of concern in his uncle’s face.

  Two burly warriors herded them into the wagon. Mark’s body shivered as he sat bleary-eyed in the chilly air. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, wondering where they were going at such a strange hour of the night. They sat in silence for several minutes before the convoy finally moved out.

  As the wagon lumbered down the road, Alessio peered out through the small window and his body stiffened.

  Suddenly, he knew exactly where they were going.

  Darian’s mind wandered as the large company of men and horses lumbered along in silence. He watched the cloud of steam emerge from his lips and dissipate into the frigid night air.

  With the light of the moon reflecting off the thick layer of snow, the road was illuminated enough that they had no need for torches to light the way. The men admired the beauty of the countryside sprawled out below them as they dipped down into the spectacular Andrene Valley.

  Darian glanced over his shoulder and spotted Bruno riding next to Mattie. He smiled to himself. It was not the first time he had seen that smitten look in the young man’s eyes. But the fact that Bruno’s sentiments might actually be reciprocated this time, and by his beautiful cousin no less, was pleasing to him.

  He thought about the evening several months ago after he, Arrie and Marisa had been chased by the rijgen through the Mychen Forest. Under normal circumstances, he would have been pleased and proud of himself in slaying six of the hairy beasts all in one day. But on that particular night, all he could think of was Maraya’s sudden reappearance in Carnelia.

  More than a decade or so earlier when he had been told that the royal family had been lost at sea, Darian’s future with Princess Maraya quickly became a sad chapter of his past. The memory of her faded until it was erased completely from his life. He moved forward until tragedy struck once more with his father’s death. Unable to cope with his loss, he joined the Carnelian Academy and concentrated on becoming the soldier and man of honor his father had intended for him to be. He ignored the entitlements that traditionally came with being a senior member of the royal family and fought to earn the respect of the Carnelian people on his own terms. And he succeeded. He finally accomplished the much-needed stability he had been searching for. But when Princess Maraya reappeared in his life, his world was knocked entirely off its axis. From the first moment he gazed upon her long chestnut hair and fiery eyes, he knew that everything had changed once again.

  He had faced battles and death many times in his twenty-two years and had never had anything to lose. But once she entered his world, he knew that life held no purpose without having her by his side. And the close call at Beauriél the night before had frightened him, making him realize that he was no longer impervious to pain. Before she came back, he had believed himself to be utterly invincible.

  But that was no longer the case.

  Now as he rode in silence through the uncaring darkness of night, he couldn’t help but question what they were doing. The men needed a leader and it was his duty to prepare them for battle, but his heart told him he was taking his riskiest gamble ever. The thought of him dying without the opportunity to love her as only a husband could consumed him. Many pretty women had fluttered in and out of his life over the years, but they all seemed so meaningless now. He had never loved anyone as he loved her.

  He gazed into the somber faces around him as the horses plodded on into the night. Apart from a few muted conversations among the ranks, most of the men remained silent. The fact that some or perhaps many of them would never return to Crocetta seemed to weigh heavily on each man. There was no telling who would live and who would die.

  Such was the nature of war.

  Exhausted from the day’s events, Marisa rose from her plush chair, saying good night to the others still lounging in the Jade Room. Making her way down the corridor toward her room, she heard light footsteps following close behind her.

  “Your Highness, may I sleep in your room tonight?”

  “That would be nice. We can have a slumber party.”

  “What is a slumber party?”

  “It’s something teenage girls from my world do. They invite girlfriends over to their house, do each other’s nails, hair and talk about boys until deep in the night.”

  “Ooh, that sounds like fun! What a pity that Mattie is not here to join our slumbering party.”

  Marisa giggled. Adalina was always a breath of fresh air.

  As they got ready for bed, she removed Eman’s amulet and examined it carefully. It seemed to be pulsing more brightly than the day before. Adalina hopped onto the bed and leaned in close.

  “It is so beautiful,” she remarked in wonder. “It glows from within, almost as if it is lit by a tiny candle.”

  “I could watch it for hours,” she agreed, leaning over to blow out the candle. She laid her head down on the pillow, her eyelids growing heavy as the rays of lavender light danced amongst the shadows of the chamber.

  Within just a few minutes, both women sank into a deep sleep, neither of them noticing the stone’s accelerated pulsations.

  CHAPTER 18

  BREACH

  Alessio had been scouring the dark countryside for hours, scanning the horizon for any clue as to their whereabouts. But when the dim silhouette of Crocetta Castle loomed high on the hill less than a mile to the east and countless groups of warriors emerged from the shadows to join their ever-increasing convoy, the realization of what was about to happen made his blood run cold. His eyes skimmed past Mark and locked on Eman. “There is nothing we can do now.”

  “Uncle Al, what’s wrong?” Mark demanded. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  “Yes, there is. We can pray.” Eman bowed his head.

  “What is it? Please tell me,” Mark begged.

  Alessio craned to look out the window. The warriors were unstrapping their longbows and unsheathing their swords, all without breaking their stride. They tightened the cords of their armor, preparing themselves for battle.

  He turned away from the window to meet his nephew’s confused gaze. “They’re preparing to attack the citadel, and we have absolutely no way of warning our loved ones sleeping peacefully inside that they are about to get caught smack dab in the middle of a bloody massacre.”

  Marisa bolted upright in bed. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She glanced around the room, relieved to discover that she was in her own chambers at the castle at Crocetta. The nightmares were becoming more frequent and vivid. And Savino became more frightening in each one.

  She glanced over at Adalina. The young woman was sleeping peacefully with her back to Marisa. At least she had not woken her with her horrible nightmares.

  Listening to her snoring softly, she slipped out of bed and poured a glass of water from the pitcher. Gulping it down quickly, the vision of flames shooting from Savino’s mouth flashed through her mind. She tried to push it f
rom her, praying that she could fall asleep again.

  The moonlight beckoned to her as it shone through the windows of the balcony. She moved closer to the glass, admiring the way the moonbeams sparkled like glitter as they reflected off the crystals of freshly-fallen snow. She thought of Darian moving through it on his way toward Abbadon and wondered if he was thinking of her too. She bowed her head in a silent prayer for his safe return.

  Just then, a chill made her flinch and she opened her eyes.

  As a sinking feeling spread through her gut, she peered out into the darkness. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She searched for the night guards posted along the ramparts in both the northwest and southwest corners but couldn’t find them anywhere. In fact, there wasn’t a single person in sight.

  Something was wrong.

  A lone figure emerged from the main rampart tunnel, running across the courtyard and up toward the citadel. Then there was another. And another. Soon a dark shadow spread across the courtyard like a wave of locusts moving over the land.

  She gasped. “Oh no, not again!”

  As the cloud of darkness fanned out further to engulf the citadel, she tore herself away from the window and ran to the bed, tripping over the shoes she’d carelessly dropped in the middle of the floor. “Adalina, wake up! Get up!”

  “Mmm, what is it?” she replied sleepily.

  “The castle is under attack! We’ve gotta get out of here!”

  “What?!”

  Adalina jumped out of bed and stumbled over to the window, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the hordes of warriors below.

  Marisa scurried around in the darkness, dressing as quickly as she could before tossing Adalina’s dress at her. The second her cousin had pulled the dress down over her head, Marisa grabbed her cloak and shoes, rushing her out the door. When they were only halfway down the corridor, a loud boom reverberated through the castle, rattling the stone foundations.

  Realizing that the attackers were already inside the citadel, a wave of panic rose up inside Marisa. They only had a couple of minutes at best before the warriors would have everyone in the castle rounded up. Her mind raced as she struggled to think of a quick way out. Where do we hide?

  She grabbed Adalina’s arm, suddenly remembering the back way that led down to the stables. “Come on, this way!”

  Adalina hoisted up her skirts. They flew down the main staircase, sprinting into a dark corridor before finally reaching the servants’ rear staircase.

  As the two women descended lower and lower in the ever-downwards spiral, Marisa started to become dizzy and paused for a brief moment, leaning against the wall. They had left her chambers in such a hurry that she had forgotten to take a candle, but the glow from Eman’s amulet was just enough to light their way.

  She grabbed Adalina’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Two pairs of feet moved quickly down the stone steps until they reached a vaulted tunnel that stretched out far ahead of them. A cold breeze whistled through the dank corridor as the tannic aroma of fermenting grapes permeated the air.

  Without a sound, they crept past the wine cellars filled with bounty from the Fiore vineyards until the passage finally ended at the base of a spiral staircase. Marisa stopped to glance behind, but no one had been following them.

  “Quickly, up here,” she urged, hoping against hope that the main gate and portcullis had not already been sealed off.

  Adalina followed her up the spiral staircase, tripping occasionally from the impractical shoes she was wearing. By the time they reached the top, both women were out of breath.

  Marisa motioned for her to stay back before cautiously opening a wooden door at the rear of the stables. Peeking out into the courtyard, she saw a steady stream of warriors rushing up toward the castle and searched for a place to hide. She spotted a low wall with drinking troughs used to water the horses.

  “Over there,” she whispered.

  Adalina nodded.

  As they sprinted the short distance and ducked behind the wall, the battle chant of the gigantic warriors filled the air. Wave after wave of the mega-sized warriors charged past them, their bronze breastplates flashing and their cloaks billowing out behind them.

  Marisa peered up over the wall into the main courtyard and her heart sank knowing that they were utterly defenseless in the face of this monster army.

  The citadel guards were still trying to defend the main gate with their half-sized swords, but they were no match against the spears, swords and arrows of the most powerful warrior tribes on Carnelia. A few brave sentries tried to hold their posts with shields as arrows flew straight at them, but it was no use. The Crocine guardsmen were dropping like flies, hopelessly outnumbered. The Crimson knights had followed Darian in the attack on Abbadon, leaving the regular force behind to guard the castle.

  She ducked down behind the wall and leaned her head against Adalina’s, huddling against her as hundreds of warriors continued to storm on past them. The squeaky sound of wagon wheels echoed under the rampart tunnel not far away. Cautiously, she peered over the wall to take a look.

  “That’s the same wagon that took my uncle, Mark and Eman!” she whispered. “I recognize the warriors too!”

  Adalina peeked over the wall. “Do you see them?”

  One of the warriors opened the door and ordered the prisoners to come out. Mark, Eman and Alessio jumped down from the wagon one at a time, their hands and feet still clapped in iron manacles.

  “Oh, they’re still alive.” Marisa sighed in relief.

  “Should we not try to save them?”

  Marisa watched the warriors drag their prisoners up toward the citadel and shook her head sadly. “No. If we’re caught, we’ll be executed on the spot. Savino is probably only keeping them alive until he finds us. They’ll be all right, at least for now.”

  “What about my mother and the others still in the castle? Do we just allow them to be captured too?”

  “Think about it, Adalina. You’re a Fiore princess. I’m the Princess Regent. We’re the ones Savino wants, not them.”

  Adalina pursed her lips. “But—”

  “We can’t just walk in there and give ourselves up—we’ve got to find someplace where it’s safe and figure out what to do next.”

  “You are right. We cannot go back now.”

  “Your mother is safe for now. I don’t think Savino will hurt her and the others as long as he’s still looking for us.”

  “He must be around here somewhere.”

  Marisa ran through the options in her head. Finding a place to hide at the citadel was not a good idea. Neither would it be safe for them at Beauriél. But where else could they go? She peered down the tunnel under the rampart, noticing that both the inside gate and portcullis were open. “Look! There is no one guarding the gate!”

  Adalina bit her lip. “But what if there are guards posted at the outer entrance?”

  “We have no choice! We have to risk it!” She grabbed Adalina’s arm, pulling her along. They dodged the parked wagon which was now empty and sprinted toward the entrance of the long tunnel. Adalina slipped on the thin layer of ice covering the stones but Marisa moved fast to catch her and kept her from going down. She whispered a small prayer under her breath.

  Protect us, Garon. Show us where to go.

  When they were only halfway down the tunnel, a tall, dark figure loomed near the entrance, blocking their only way of escape into the city and freedom.

  Telltale signs of exhaustion were beginning to show on the men’s faces. They had ridden straight through the night and in less than an hour it would be daybreak. Darian sensed that if he did not call for rest sometime soon, he would pay for it later.

  Hearing a woman’s stifled giggles behind him, he turned and saw Bruno riding next to Mattie, leaning over and whispering something into her ear. The way she looked at him told Darian that she felt something special for him. If the two of them were happy together, well, then he wasn’t going to say or do anything that might
discourage the two lovebirds.

  He glanced up into the sky that was absent of all clouds and knew it would be another day with frigid temperatures. At least it meant that there wouldn’t be any new snowfall, further hindering their progress. The psychological stress that inevitably ensued whenever the men rode into battle was difficult enough without having to worry about basic things like keeping warm and dry. If he were able to keep the morale of the men high, they would stand a better chance of survival once they were up against Savino’s giant warrior force at Abbadon. At least, that’s what he told himself. Just a few more minutes of riding and he would call for a rest.

  His mind wandered as he imagined Marisa sleeping soundly in her bed. He could just picture how peaceful she looked, her long chestnut hair fanned out across the pillow, her pert nose dotted with freckles and her full lips relaxing as she dreamed.

  Earlier that morning, the company had ridden past the exact spot where he had found her months before. He smiled to himself, remembering how stunned he was to find her lying unconscious on the road. Despite her resemblance to Queen Elyse to such a degree that he knew it could not be purely coincidence, the possibility that the young woman might actually be the lost princess had seemed inconceivable to him at the time.

  Now as his eyes wandered aimlessly across the evergreen branches weighed down with snow, he realized how much Marisa was becoming just like her mother. Although her hazel eyes and chestnut hair were definitely traits that had been inherited from her father’s side of the family, the strength and beauty of her tall, slender frame and the fiery gleam of independence in her eyes were clear reflections of the former queen. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her standing in the Knight’s Hall and it was as if he were seeing a ghost from a forgotten era. In the few short months since she had returned to Carnelia, he had been amazed by how she had transformed from an insecure, moody teenager into a confident young woman of patience and fortitude. The headstrong girl who had been dead to him for so many years was alive again and, in the meantime, had matured into the most enchanting woman he had ever met. She could not have been mistaken for anyone else than Queen Elyse Fiore’s daughter.