The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (32 page)

Marisa slipped through the city streets as inconspicuously as possible, pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head to cover it just in case someone might recognize her. On her way up to the citadel, she heard people gossiping about a man who was openly speaking out against Savino and his tyrannical regime in the citadel square. She quietly followed behind as they went to li
sten.

The streets were crowded with hundreds of warriors out on patrol, but she had no fear. The evil men couldn’t see her and the rest most likely wouldn’t even recognize her. When she heard a man shouting at the crowds from a wooden platform, the hairs on her arm stood on end. She knew that v
oice.

Moving up closer, her eyes widened when she saw that it was Eman, crowds of people jostling all around him to li
sten.

“Most beloved people of Crocetta, turn from your evil ways and repent to Garon. He has not deserted you in this most desperate hour. If He feels distant to you, it is not because He has moved away, it is because you have moved away from Him. The oppression in our midst happens not because He has turned his back on you—it is happening because you have turned your backs on Him. Despite your evil nature, His choice is to love you, but to each of you He gives a ch
oice.”

Eman’s eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, connecting with each one individually and touching them on a deeply personal l
evel.

“Are you discouraged? Are you tired and weak? Do you mourn for your future? Do not despair, but, instead, call out to Him, pray to Him and He shall renew your hope. If you but ask, He shall lift the heavy burdens from your shoulders. The time of this dark reign of tyranny shall be limited, but His glorious kingdom shall last forever. If you pray to Him now with an open heart, He shall hear your prayers and answer them, too. The One who speaks to you now does not come in a spirit of condemnation, but as one who comes to save you from the
fire!”

Mesmerized by his words, Marisa couldn’t pull herself away. It was almost as if he knew what was going on inside her. Suddenly realizing that he was speaking English, she was baffled at how the people around her could understand him. She gazed into the sea of faces, noticing that the people seemed to be in utter fascination of him. All who stopped to listen knew in their hearts that he was speaking the t
ruth.

“I shall not forsake my appeal to you, as long as I have breath in my body,” he continued, pointing up toward the citadel. “The wicked man that sits on the throne is flesh and blood. He shall die one day soon, but the love of Garon lasts forever. Choose this day whom you shall follow and know this—whomever you follow shall direct your steps for the rest of your
life.”

Flakes of snow began to fall, lightly at first before they steadily grew larger. The people remained where they were, each of them visibly touched by Eman’s w
ords.

Marisa peered down at the amulet and saw that it was no longer pulsing but had instead become a steady, bright beacon of light. She put her ring next to the stone but had to look away because both gems were so bright that she couldn’t stand to look at either one of them. Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine, and something told her to get out of there qui
ckly.

Go
now!

Slipping back into the crowds, she hurried up toward the castle, remembering what she had to do and hoping she could find Arrie before it was too late. As she approached the citadel gate, she stopped, this time unable to look away from the heads of the unfortunate souls adorning the rampart walls. In all of her eighteen years, she had never seen anything so bloody and so horrible. The visual reminder of why she couldn’t give up until Savino was dead would be burned on her retina for
ever.

One head in particular caught her eye. De
imos.

She felt a sense of vindication when she thought about all the evil that man had done in his life only to wind up here. But the rest of the heads had all belonged to the men who had fought for her and her kingdom. They were the ones she was mourning and would be the ones she thought of when she killed Sa
vino.

She could do it if only she could get close enough. But how? He always had large warriors around him, guarding him all the time. Even with the amulet it would be risky, but at this point, bringing his evil reign to a screeching halt would be worth sacrificing her life. She neared the rampart tunnel and was just about to enter when a warrior appeared above her, shouting to the c
rowd.

“People of Crocetta! Your sovereign ruler, His Majesty, King Savino, will be addressing you shortly. Make way for His Royal Maj
esty!”

She dashed back into the crowd and ducked behind a large tree, curious to hear what he had to say. She pulled down the hood of her cloak even further, shielding her face from nearly everyone except those who were standing right in front of
her.

As the crowds grew larger, she studied the multitude of weary faces. Although Savino had only ruled for a short time, he had already ushered in a set of unfair laws and an unfair re
gime.

Forced to pay high taxes on goods resulting in hyperinflation, the people of Crocetta were already struggling to provide enough food for their families. In a minimum of time, Savino had made many enemies, but, with his army of ferocious warriors, nobody dared to oppose him. His display along the castle walls immediately quashed any ideas of a revolution from the people’s heads and almost overnight Crocetta had become the seat of terror, tyranny and social disorder in the
land.

There was a bustle of activity up on the rampart wall as Savino emerged, strolling grandly in his expensive garments. Six large warriors surrounded him as he held up a hand to silence the cr
owds.

“People of Crocetta, with the commencement of my reign, our country enters into a new and exciting era. Gone are the imperialist imposters of yesterday; gone are their ‘ideals’ and ‘morals’ that have so corrupted these lands. My father tried without success to erase the Crimson oppression from Crocine existence. But, where he has failed, I shall suc
ceed.

“The iniquitous Fiore regime has fallen at last. The grand and glorious da Rocha dynasty has risen. Only a few days ago my army removed the last remnants of this foul and nefarious order by wiping Darian and his den of thieves away with a single st
roke.”

Gasps and sniffles escaped from various places in the crowd. The citizens of Crocetta who had long suffered under Gregario’s oppressive rule now stared at his unwelcome spawn with renewed dread in their he
arts.

“Although Maraya and Darian are dead and gone, three Fiores still remain. And I am asking for your help. Today I am announcing a bounty on the heads of Marcus, Marino and Adalina Fiore of one hundred thousand Carnies ap
iece.”

Marisa froze.
Maraya is dead and gone? Three Fiores re
main?

“Whoever can bring me a member of the Fiore family, dead or alive, shall be given the reward. Persons caught harboring said criminals shall suffer a similar fate of those who have crossed me before. These criminals shall be brought to justice and must pay for their cr
imes—”

“You wicked fool!” A man shouted from the crowd. “Your reign shall not be of long duration! You fool the foolish with your smooth speeches but to the One to whom you must bow down, you do not
fool.”

“Who said that?” Savino shouted. “Show yourself! I demand to
know!”

Marisa’s eyes scanned the crowds to the source of the outburst. Standing on the same platform normally used to auction cattle in the citadel square, Eman’s chin rose in defiance as he stared at Savino, pointing at him accusi
ngly.

“Apollyon! For all your cruel deeds, you shall give an account to the One with the power to destroy your very soul. Garon is the rightful judge of your hateful actions and wicked w
ords!”

“That god does not exist! He is nothing but a myth, created by weak cowards such as yourself to keep people slaves to your oppressive, antiquated systems of belief! Kneel before me! Or you shall
die!”

“I bow only to my Father, the one, true
King.”

“You shall regret what you have done here!” Savino screamed. “These words you have uttered here shall be your last! Take that man to the dungeon!
Now!”

The crowds gasped at the exchange while red flames erupted from Savino’s mouth as he spoke. People watched in horror as two warriors grabbed Eman by his arms, yanking him off the plat
form.

“These people are witnesses to your cruelty, Savino,” he shouted. “They shall never forget what happened
here!”

Not bothering to lift his body off the ground, the warriors dragged Eman over the cobblestone streets, past the crowds and up through the rampart tunnel. In a blinded rage, Savino turned on his heel, marching back up to the cit
adel.

Wondering if she should follow him into the castle, Marisa decided to wait until things cooled down a bit. She slipped into the street and made her way back toward Celino’s house with one burning question occupying her thou
ghts.

CHAPTER 30

TRIBULATION

The group of seven men and one boy were only a short distance from the citadel square when they noticed heavy crowds starting to dissipate. The townspeople were returning to their shops and homes with an intense weariness in their f
aces.

Spotting an old woman covering her face and weeping softly, Darian began to fear the worst. “Something has just happened here,” he said. “We need to find out what.” He stopped a man carrying a pitchfork. “You there, what is your
name?”

“Ponzio,
Sire.”

“Ponzio, we just arrived in the city. Did the palace just make an announcement of some
sort?”

“Aye. His Majesty King Savino decreed a few moments ago that Her Royal Highness Princess Maraya is
dead.”

“Dead!”
He felt his legs buckling u
nder.

The man nodded sadly. “He is also offering a bounty of one hundred thousand Carnies for the heads of Marcus, Marino and Adalina Fiore. Oh, and he just ordered the shepherd preacher, Eman, to be thrown in the dungeons for speaking out against
him.”

He struggled for composure. “Thank you, Ponzio. Be
well.”

“Be well, Sire,” the man said, nodding as he hurried
off.

“Oh, Marisa—no, no
,
NO!”

He collapsed onto the cobblestones as waves of sadness fought against a rising tide of anger. In the end, grief won. Releasing the emotions he had fought so long to control, he buried his face in his arms and wept. The men looked on in pitiful silence at the mighty Prince Darian who had quickly been reduced to a trembling heap of pure mi
sery.

Marisa crept down the alleyway behind Celino’s house and spotted two warriors guarding the side door. She passed in front of them without a problem and moved up closer to the h
ouse.

Nearing the window, she cupped her hand around her eyes and peered inside. There didn’t seem to be any activity inside and she could only hope her family was safely tucked away downstairs. It was too risky to enter through the front door where three warriors blocked the entrance. She would go find Arrie first and then come back to the h
ouse.

Slipping around the corner and making her way back to the castle, she pulled her hood down further, hiding her face from the crowds. Dodging the hordes of people and warriors still jamming the city streets, her mind was occupied with finding Arrie. She prayed silently that her red-haired cousin had not already been put to death by her other, blond rela
tive.

With her hood down low over her eyes, she didn’t see the group of men on the opposite side of the street circled around a tall dark-haired man, down on his knees and wee
ping.

“Get in there, you old fool!” The warrior shoved Cozimo into a cell next to Arrie’s, slamming the door shut. He moved back over to the wall and turned around, keeping his eyes fixed on both of
them.

“Cozimo! You are alive, my friend!” Arrie exclaimed. “I am so happy to see you! Have you any news of the ot
hers?”

“Aye, I have news.” When the old man looked up at him, his eyes were clouded with sadness. He glanced over briefly at the warrior before turning back to A
rrie.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What has happ
ened?”

“Princess Maraya is—
dead.”

“No!” Arrie said, shaking his head in disbelief. “It cannot be true—it ca
nnot!”

“That snake has killed
her.”

“No,” Arrie whispered, his eyes filling with tears as he remembered the spirited young woman they had found on the road only months be
fore.

“Aye, ’tis
true.”

“First Darian and now Marisa? I cannot take anymore.” He sank back against the wall, his heart breaking into a million pieces just as if she had been his own true
love.

“Why are we staying down here?” Cinzia asked. “They might find us here and kil
l us.”

“If Celino hadn’t shown Marisa this hideout, we would’ve been dead long ago,” Alessio reminded her. “I’ll check in a little while to see if the warriors are still t
here.”

“But what about my Arrigo?” Cinzia began to
cry.

“Darlin’, he’s a wise, resourceful young man.” He put an arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m sure he’s still alive. In fact, I can fee
l it.”

She looked at him, unconvi
nced.

“Now don’t worry about a thing—we’ll find a way out of here and get to someplace safe. This is all my fault for underestimating Savino, th
ough.”

“No,” Tino said. “We are all to b
lame.”

“Now would be a good time to pray,” Helena
said.

“I agree,” Cinzia said, “Let us
pray.”

The four of them bent their heads together and pr
ayed.

“Your Highness, I must insist that we move along,” Lord Patrizio said, his eyes roaming the masses of people. “The crowds on the street are thinning out and we must seek shelter before we are spotted by one of Savino’s pat
rols.”

Reluctantly, Darian nodded. “You are right.” Wiping the dampness from his eyes, he slowly rose to his feet and pulled his hood over his
head.

“What should we do, Sire?” Porfiro a
sked.

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “I know that you all are eager to see your families, so please make your way back home. I will send word when something has been planned against Sa
vino.”

The men nodded and went their separate ways, sorry for his loss but grateful that they could return to their children and wives. When they all had left, only Loris and Baron Porfiro rema
ined.

“Your Highness, where will you go?” Porfiro asked, eyeing the young lad who looked unsure of where t
o go.

“I shall find a place where I am wel
come.”

“Both you and Master Loris are most welcome to accompany me home and stay for as long as you like,” he off
ered.

Darian rested a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate your kind offer, but I have no desire to put your family at an even greater risk. If I am discovered, they will be exec
uted.”

“Then we must be careful,” Porfiro answered. “Come, Loris. Let us move qui
ckly.”

Marisa made her way down the familiar rampart tunnel, filled with renewed courage. The light from the amulet pulsated in the darkness, urging her on. She could not rest until she found Arrie and Cozimo. She feared for Eman’s life, knowing that Savino had put others to death for crimes much less than
his.

She ducked into the stables, hurrying over to stroke Siena’s glossy mane. “I’m sorry for getting you mixed up in all of this,” she whispered, laying her head against the horse’s neck. “I wish I had never taken you riding up into those w
oods.”

Giving her head a pat, she hurried around to the back of the stables and entered through the servants’ entrance. She made her way down the darkened corridor and heard the clatter of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. She slipped past and ran up the back stairs, thankful not to have bumped into anyone who could either see or recognize
her.

Reaching the main level outside the Knight’s Hall, she spied four warriors approaching and flattened herself against the wall. After they had marched past her, she glanced around, trying to decide where to go. She would try the family’s chambers f
irst.

She hurried up the steps but slowed when she reached the top. Peering down toward the end of the corridor, she was surprised to find there were no warriors guarding the hallway. Tiptoeing down the hall, she glanced up at the portraits of her ancestors covering the walls and was distracted by a small painting of her parents she had never noticed before. Although they were not smiling, the expressions on their faces were relaxed and pleasant and their love for each other emanated from the canvas. Pangs of hurt tugged at her heart. Without Darian, she would never experience a love that transcended time and could be immortalized on canvas for future generations to ad
mire.

Hearing the creaking sound of someone walking across a wooden floor, she turned and saw Savino coming out of a room down the hall. She flattened herself into a nearby doorway and leaned out to take a
peek.

Surrounded by a thick red fog, his face was hidden from view as he turned to address someone in the
room.

“It is up to you, Mattie, but I think you would be better off here with me. If I were you, I would take some time to consider this before you make a decision you will someday re
gret.”

He shut the door firmly as if to make a statement and strode down the hall, the small cloud of red fog following him. His gaze roamed the corridor until suddenly his eyes stopped on her
face.