The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge Read online

  Copyright © 2014 Cheryl L. Koevoet.

  Cover Art: Najla Qamber Designs www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  Author Photo: K. Evenhouse

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4582-1564-2 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4582-1566-6 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4582-1565-9 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014908256

  Abbott Press rev. date: 05/22/2014

  Contents

  Cast of Main Characters

  Chapter 1 Conclave

  Chapter 2 Affinity

  Chapter 3 Persuasion

  Chapter 4 Heritage

  Chapter 5 Embroilment

  Chapter 6 Perspectives

  Chapter 7 Impressions

  Chapter 8 Contrivances

  Chapter 9 Displaced

  Chapter 10 Betrayal

  Chapter 11 Eman

  Chapter 12 Noel

  Chapter 13 Vexation

  Chapter 14 Ambush

  Chapter 15 Revelation

  Chapter 16 Adieu

  Chapter 17 Andre

  Chapter 18 Breach

  Chapter 19 Ambrogia

  Chapter 20 Raniero

  Chapter 21 Concealment

  Chapter 22 Massacre

  Chapter 23 Despondency

  Chapter 24 Loris

  Chapter 25 Coronation

  Chapter 26 Escape

  Chapter 27 Carnage

  Chapter 28 Terracina

  Chapter 29 Despair

  Chapter 30 Tribulation

  Chapter 31 Remembrance

  Chapter 32 Judgment

  Chapter 33 Martyr

  Chapter 34 Rescue

  Chapter 35 Surrender

  Chapter 36 Schemes

  Chapter 37 Epiphany

  Chapter 38 Abomination

  Chapter 39 Restoration

  Chapter 40 Recompense

  Chapter 41 Penance

  Chapter 42 Inauguration

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  For Debbie Hahn and Christy Holley, my sisters of the heart.

  For without your passion and encouragement, the saga of

  Darian and Marisa would have never seen the light of day.

  I’ll love you both forever.

  - CLK

  “In righteousness you will be established:

  Tyranny will be far from you;

  you will have nothing to fear.

  Terror will be far removed;

  it will not come near you.”

  Isaiah 54:14 (TNIV)

  CAST OF MAIN CHARACTERS

  CROCETTA

  HRH Princess Maraya Petra Fiore (aka Marisa MacCallum)

  Eighteen years old; daughter of the late Queen Elyse Fiore and late King Alano Macario; lost and presumed dead to the Carnelian world twelve years ago; graduate of South Medford High School, Jacksonville, Oregon; recently returned through a vortex; engaged to Darian

  HRH Prince Darian Petrus Alessandro Fiore

  Twenty-two; son of the late Prince André Fiore and Princess Helena Arras; Chief Counsel of the Crimson Court; High Commander of the Knights of the Crimson Order; older brother of Adalina; engaged to Maraya

  Baron Alessio Macario (aka Alistair “Uncle Al” MacCallum)

  Late forties; identical twin brother of the late Prince Alano Macario; Paladin Knight of the Crimson Order; former real estate agent at Rogue Valley Realty of Jacksonville, Oregon; uncle of Marisa and Mark; husband of Cinzia; father of Arrie

  Baroness Cinzia Pantaleone-Macario

  Mid-forties; born in Andrésis now living in Crocetta; former Lady-in-Waiting to the late Queen Elyse; wife of Alessio; mother of Arrie; aunt of Marisa and Mark

  Lord Arrigo “Arrie” Macario

  Twenty-four; son of Alessio & Cinzia; Apageon Knight of the Crimson Order; cousin to Marisa and Mark; advisor to Prince Darian

  HRH Prince Marcus Levis Cerrino Fiore (aka Mark MacCallum)

  Sixteen; former student at South Medford High School, basketball fanatic; War Counselor in-training; brother to Marisa; nephew of Alessio & Cinzia

  HRH Princess Adalina Gisella Fiore

  Fifteen; daughter of Helena Arras and the late Prince André Fiore; sister of Darian

  HRH Princess Helena Arras-Fiore

  Late forties; born in Ravenna, now living in Crocetta; widow of the late Prince André Fiore; mother of Prince Darian and Princess Adalina

  Count Faustino “Tino” Durante

  Early fifties; former Sécant to the late Prince André Fiore; Paladin Knight of the Crimson Order; language teacher and intellectual

  Cavaliere Bruno Nestore

  Late twenties; Chief War Counselor and instructor in self-defense, all-time Carnelian Academy broadsword champion; youngest person to reach the level of Apageon Knight; Paladin Knight of the Crimson Order

  Lord Cozimo Laurentine Arroyo

  Mid-eighties; Chief Advisor of the Crimson Order; former squire to King Petrus Fiore and longest-serving member of the Crocine Royal Household; Keeper of the Law and philosopher

  Celino (aka Cecil Weingarten)

  Early fifties; born in Pasadena, California; PhD in Physics and Astronomy from Caltech; founder of the vortex wormhole theory; currently living in Crocetta; suspected by local inhabitants to be a sorcerer

  Eman Yewil

  Early thirties; born in Crocetta proper; shepherd; friend of Princess Marisa; neighbor of Castle Beauriél estate

  Lord Luca Domenico

  Twenty-two; Crimson Academy graduate; Sécant to Prince Darian and Salim Knight of the Crimson Order

  Baron Porfiro

  Early sixties; Paladin Knight and High Commander of the Crimson Civilian Militia

  ABBADON

  Count Savino Umberto da Rocha

  Twenty; son of the late Queen Sophie Fiore and the late Count Gregario da Rocha; former Paladin Knight of the Crimson Order; twin brother of Matilda; cousin to Marisa and Mark

  Lady Matilda “Mattie” Florentina da Rocha

  Twenty; daughter of the late Queen Sophie Fiore and the late Count Gregario da Rocha; twin sister of Savino; cousin to Marisa and Mark

  Lord Dastar Raniero

  Early fifties; of unknown origin; former Political Advisor to the late Queen Elyse Fiore; recently returned from exile

  Lord Emiel Gaspar

  Mid-fifties; born in Drychen province; currently serving as Chief Advisor and Special Envoy to Count da Rocha

  Talvan Pardivoor

  Late-thirties; member of the Ijbant Titan Tribe of Northern Terama Provence; High Commander of the Abbadon Warrior Guard; under the command of Count Savino
da Rocha

  Deimos

  Late thirties; member of the Orieno Titan Tribe of Eastern Terama Provence; High Commander of the Abbadon Warrior Guard; under the command of Count Savino da Rocha

  Loris Raniero

  Fifteen; Keeper of the Castle at Abbadon; nephew of Lord Dastar Raniero

  TERRACINA

  HM King Bertoldo Macario

  Mid-fifties; King of Terracina Provence and ally of the Middle Crocine Kingdoms; High Commander of the Royal Terracine Fleet; cousin of Baron Alessio; widower of the late Mirella Agapeto; father of Caterina, Costanzo and Caprice

  HRH Princess Caterina Macario

  Twenty; born in Terracina; Crown Princess of Terracina

  HRH Prince Costanzo Macario

  Eighteen; born in Terracina; second in line to Terracine throne

  HRH Princess Caprice Macario

  Fifteen; born in Terracina; third in line to Terracine throne

  Levels of Knighthood in the Crimson Order:

  Squire (1) Arydon (2) Salim (3) Apageon (4) Paladin (5)

  CHAPTER 1

  CONCLAVE

  Who does that Savino da Rocha think he is, summoning me in the middle of the night like this?

  Dastar Raniero’s face bore an angry scowl as he trudged through the thick layer of snow that covered the ancient cobblestone streets. The wiry, sturdy legs that had once carried him to the ends of the world now faltered on the steep road, yet another reminder that he was starting to show his age.

  Reaching the castle’s main entrance just as the bells of Abbadon proclaimed the midnight hour, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn’t being followed. Although there was no one in sight, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps he had only imagined the shadow following him through the city. He stared up through the iron bars.

  Bathed in fog and reflecting the eerie light of a full moon, the rocky fortress appeared even more sinister than he had remembered. Built on ancient foundations that had been embedded into the rock of a mountain, the castle’s turrets jutted up like daggers pointing toward the sky. Icicles hung from the railings of the walkways above the ramparts like dragon’s teeth bared at anyone daring to enter.

  Seeing that the gatehouse was empty, the graying nobleman slammed an angry fist against the portcullis. Savino’s warriors were probably huddled around a fire somewhere, swapping war stories and chugging ale, not caring one whit that he was late.

  Removing the dagger from his belt, he pounded the stock impatiently against the iron bars, peering into the courtyard for any sign of movement. An enormous soldier dressed in the heavy winter uniform of the Abbadon Warrior Guard emerged from the stables and lumbered over to the gatehouse, glaring at him in annoyance. He slid the metal rod aside to release the crank and turned the giant wheel. The iron portcullis inched upwards, the toe-curling noise of metal-scraping-metal announcing his late arrival to the entire city.

  Raniero breathed on his hands to warm them. Convinced that the soldier was moving slowly on purpose, he stared at him coldly, cursing the night under his breath. He ducked under the gate before it had been fully raised and jogged to the oaken entrance of the Knight’s Hall. He was in luck. It had been left unlocked.

  The door squeaked on its hinges as he entered the grand foyer. The only source of light was a lamp on a side table, but it made little difference. Even if it had been the peak of summer, one hundred flaming torches could not have penetrated the darkness that permeated the castle’s chambers and corridors.

  Dusting the snow from his armor and stomping the slush off his boots, he cursed again. He shut the door behind him and glanced both ways, the metallic clang echoing down the empty corridors.

  No one.

  Gazing around at the hostile gray walls, haunting memories screeched through his mind, and a shiver rippled down his spine. The last time he had entered this godforsaken place had been years ago. Much had happened since he had been gone, but, standing here now, it was almost as if time at Abbadon Castle had stood still.

  He strode through the vacant Knight’s Hall toward the northern wall where a thin crack of light shone under the door. The meeting had already begun. He tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He pounded his dagger against the door and, after a delay of several seconds, someone finally unlatched it from the other side.

  As the door swung open, a thick cloud of burning incense wafted out into the corridor, its pungent smell turning his stomach. He entered the chamber and closed the door behind him.

  In a tense, boardroom-like atmosphere, a formidable group of men sat around a large slate table, their swords and weapons hung on racks behind them. Clad in elegant, yet functional, suits of armor and heavy cloaks that kept them from freezing even in the coldest of winters, the mismatched array of grim faces stared at Raniero.

  Without a word, he pulled out the only empty seat, placing his dagger on the rack behind it. He settled into the plush velvet chair and crossed his arms, raising his chin slightly to meet the gaze of his host, who was sitting at the other end.

  The striking blond man drummed his fingers calmly on the table, watching the latecomer in stony silence. His tall, slender frame was accentuated perfectly by an elegant blue tunic and black cloak that could only have been crafted by the finest tailor in the kingdom. With a strong, angular jaw, fair skin, and high cheekbones, the Count Savino da Rocha was often described by others as charmingly handsome. However, as Raniero came face-to-face with the piercing blue eyes of his former protégé, he was reminded that the young man’s attractive exterior concealed a chilling darkness under the surface. Hardened lines in his expression hinted at his ruthless nature, making him appear much older than his twenty years.

  “Lord Raniero, how kind of you to join us,” Savino said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I was unavoidably de—”

  “I would thank you to address me by my proper title.”

  Raniero clenched his jaw. “I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness. My deepest apologies for my mistake.”

  Savino shot him a warning glance, continuing. “Now that we are all assembled, we may begin. After my father’s passing some time ago, I inherited all titles in his possession; one of them being the successor to the Crocine throne and, by law, the Supreme Ruler of Carnelia. However, at this very moment, there is an imposter occupying my throne. The coronation is set to take place in the capital city in just a few weeks, and the time to strike is now.”

  He paused for effect, rising to his feet and strolling around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “I shall seize the throne by all means possible, but I must have your assurances that each of you stands behind me.”

  “Here, here,” the men shouted, banging their fists on the table in a show of support.

  Savino stopped and crossed his arms, waiting for the noise to die down before continuing. “The young woman and my cousin have been conspiring against me. Even now they hold Lady Matilda hostage in Crocetta and will not allow me to see or even contact her. Dear gentlemen, that in itself is grounds for war.”

  The noise grew loud once again as they banged on the table in protest, nodding to each other in agreement.

  He held up a hand, silencing the commotion. “If we are to rule Carnelia the way our fathers and grandfathers ruled before us, then we must end the domination of the Fiore dynasty and that of the Order of the Crimson Knights. They are the last stronghold that remains against the future we envision for Carnelia.”

  “The Crimson Order is doomed!” a thin, elderly man with a gray beard shouted.

  “The Crimson Knights control each of the ten kingdoms, and they must be rooted out,” Savino said. “I have set a plan in motion that will exterminate the knights from the Crocine Kingdom. Each of you, however, shall be responsible for the cleansing of your own kingdoms.”

  A gaunt, silver-haired gentleman with a prominent nose and wrinkly face rose to his feet.

/>   “Pardon my skepticism, Your Highness, but what about the kingdoms not represented here?” He gestured to the men sitting around the table. “While I am confident of my ability to dispose of all knights in the Mychen kingdom, what are we to do about all the others?”

  Across the table, a portly man with salt-and-pepper hair stood.

  “I concur with King Ratticles. The Crimson Knights of Drychen are all but extinct, but I cannot control what happens outside my borders.”

  “King Ratticles, King Armentrois, I appreciate your concern,” Savino said, lifting his hands to reassure them. “But by joining the warrior forces and the Apollyon Order together, we shall form an invincible army that will be capable of destroying every last Crimson Knight.”

  He wheeled around and strode over to a wooden desk in the corner where a large document had been spread out, its edges curling up at the corners and its wax seal broken.

  Staring down at the graceful calligraphy on the parchment, Savino’s eyes stopped on the elegant signature at the bottom. His face twisted into an angry scowl as he grasped the document with both hands and held it up for them to see.

  “Is this what they expect me to sign? Am I to just lay down my arms and give up my throne?”

  A few of the men shifted uncomfortably.

  “I shall not!” he roared, the spittle flying from his lips. “This shall be my response!” He tore the parchment from top to bottom in one swift stroke. Ripping it again and again, he placed the pieces of torn paper into a pile, dusted off his hands and gazed intently into the stoic faces around the table.

  “Make no mistake, gentlemen, I shall not be mocked. These worthless scraps of paper shall be returned to the traitors. They shall pay for insulting His Majesty King da Rocha.”

  The men rose to their feet.

  “Long Live the King! Long Live the King!” they chanted, banging loudly on the table. Outside the door of the antechamber a large, cloaked figure slipped down the corridor.

  He had heard enough.