Torrent

by Lisa T. Bergren

  I slid over to his mount and wrapped an arm around his waist. He reached for my sword from the saddle of my horse. “You may need this,” he said grimly.

  Our freed mounts whinnied and hurried into the next room, which was roofless. The floor bloomed with winter grass, and they waded into it like they’d found a field all their own. We rushed on, hit a dead end, and doubled back, then moved to a new segment of the old bathhouse’s ruins. The complex was massive, one of Roma’s hot spots back in the Empire’s heyday. But as Marcello turned one corner and then the next, I felt like we were going in circles. We’d left the central structure with its towering hundred-foot walls and entered a complex maze to one side.

  Then, all at once, we were out, and I took a deep breath, glimpsing stars just beginning to glitter overhead. Marcello abruptly turned and waited for the rest of our party to catch up, then led us back into the bathhouse. “Scouts,” he grunted as explanation.

  We walked down another massive, crumbling hallway, and I grimaced at the sound of horse hooves against the mosaic tiles, imagining the sound echoing down to those who now ran through these old halls, swords in hands, shouting, Hey, they’re over here!

  My eyes went down every dark passageway, and I squinted, trying to see if there was an enemy coming our way. A couple times, squatters, Roma’s homeless, rose, making me catch my breath—once an old man, then an entire family. But they only stood to see who we were, what we were up to, alarmed by our after-dark intrusion.

  We paused and then dipped down through a trough where a column must have fallen and been removed, and then another. I looked back, trying to see the three horses behind Luca and Lia, but it was getting too dark. Stay with us, Mom and Dad! I wanted to call.

  Marcello abruptly stopped and stayed deadly still, staring to our left, just past the wall, beyond where I could see. From what I could see, we’d emerged a third of the way back, on the city wall side of the complex. How’d he get us here through that maze? I wondered in admiration. Maybe he’d played here as a child.

  Satisfied, or maybe seeing some knights move away, he edged forward, peeking left. “You look to our right,” he said quietly.

  I did as he asked, staring so hard down the dark road that I began to see things in the dark. Over and over he paused when I tensed. Over and over I said, “Non c’importa.” It’s nothing. When the rest of our party was out of the bathhouse complex, we moved down the road to our left, the city wall on our right side. We were heading toward Circus Maximus and the next gate, still a quarter mile distant. We rode hard, half-expecting troops to come after us. But after another couple minutes I dared to believe that Marcello had done it—that he’d fooled them into thinking that we were still inside the complex, hiding away.

  He unexpectedly veered left and rode into the old arena, where the road began to slope down and we could clearly see a scary, dual-towered, double-walled gate, opening and closing. We were still in shadow so we were certain they could not see us. There were four knights along the wall at the top of the gate, two on each round tower and four on the ground. “These gates are never guarded,” Marcello muttered to Luca, pulling our horse to a stop and waving at the knights in disgust. “They search for us.”

  “We could ride until we find a portion of the wall that’s fallen down,” Luca said.

  “I don’t remember many such sections on this side of the city, do you?”

  Luca thought about it a moment and then shook his head. “On the other side, it’s mostly down. This side?”

  His eyes said notsomuch.

  “We must be away,” Marcello said grimly, as the others pulled in closer. “If we are discovered—we’ll have more than we can handle. Here,” he said, gesturing toward the gate again, “we know the number we must battle. Are you willing?”

  He eyed them all, and in the dark we could see their bobbing heads. “Gabriella?” he asked over his shoulder.

  In answer I dropped to the ground beside his horse, as Lia had done from Luca’s. “Go, m’lord. I shall follow.” He’d be twice as effective if I wasn’t on the horse with him. And Lia needed more room to wield her bow and arrow.

  “How many can you take down?” I asked her.

  “Two, before they know we’re here,” she said, eying the towers. Two riders had come in, hard, from the direction of the bathhouses, paused, then moved on, apparently gathering reports.

  “That’ll leave ten,” Mom said.

  “And I’ll have time to take down two more, once they know we’re approaching,” Lia added.

  “Which leaves eight,” Dad said.

  “It’s as good as done, then,” Luca said with sarcastic enthusiasm. “Shall we?”

  Marcello moved ahead, watched for a moment, and then waved us onward. Lia and I crept forward, through knee-high grass, bent over. On foot we wanted to be farther ahead. The horses would pass us when they saw the first two guards fall, then they would hold the gates until we were through.

  We were a hundred yards away, then fifty. The knights appeared to be watching for horses on the road, to their left and right, rather than anyone in the grass before them. It looked funny to see guards facing the city rather than any who might be approaching from beyond—guarding the exit more than the entrance. Lia licked her finger and lifted it, testing for breezes. “They’d kill us if they had the chance, right?” she asked, aiming at the first one.

  “Without a second’s hesitation,” I said, knowing well why she hesitated. “It’s us or them. And if we don’t get out of here fast, it’s likely to be us.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say,” she said, letting the first arrow fly and, without stopping, drawing another and releasing it. We rose and ran toward the gate, yelling like banshees. The men, startled, looked scared, and then, as we entered the farthest reaches of their torchlight, about thirty yards away, they laughed and pointed, thinking it was merely two crazy women. No Roman man in his right mind would ever admit to fear of a woman, be they She-Wolves or not.…

  Three strode toward us, grinning in anticipation.

  But their smiles faded as Lia bent to aim again and I kept coming, just as the four on horseback came charging past me. Four.

  It gradually registered with me that one was missing. Where is Tomas? I paused just as I met the first knight, who had dodged Luca’s strike. He kept coming toward me. Distracted, I belatedly raised my sword just in time to meet his, and then turned to bring my sword around in an arcing strike; I put everything I had into it. He deflected it easily and advanced on me.

  I frowned in surprise. I must be more tired than I thought. It’d been a few days since I’d slept, really slept…since before Sansicino. And now, at the very worst time, I was feeling it.

  I met his strike, ducked another, deflected the last.

  And then Dad was there. “I’ve got this,” he said through clenched teeth. “Go, Gabi.”

  Dad. My dad. Saving me. I took a few steps back, sword dragging along the ground, suddenly weighing a thousand pounds, and I panted, wondering at what exactly had transpired. In the last two weeks we’d gone back in time, saved my father before he died, brought him back nearly seven hundred years, and now he was saving me. It was enough to make my head burst.

  I glanced back. Father Tomas neared, but only because his horse was following us. Somewhat. He got close enough, and I could see he was slumped over in the saddle, unconscious. I forced myself to run toward him, took the reins from his slack hands, pulled his boot from the nearest stirrup and mounted behind him. I looked over his shoulder and quickly felt for a pulse.

  Alive, he’s alive, Lord. Help me save him. Save us all.

  I saw that Marcello had opened the gate, while Mom, Dad, Luca, and Lia still battled the last four knights. I glanced right and saw a patrol of Roman guards charging down the road toward us. I kicked Father Tomas’s gelding with my heels and held on to him, knowing that to do so meant I couldn’t defend us on the way through. It was either Father Tomas or the sword. And we�
�d never be this far if it wasn’t for the priest. I wasn’t leaving him behind.

  Marcello saw me coming and opened the gate wider.

  I pulled right, narrowly missing Luca as he took a blow and took several staggering steps backward. I then tugged left, just missing getting hit by Mom’s staff as I passed. And then I was passing Marcello. “Patrol, approaching fast!” I cried, pushing through.

  I steeled myself for the strike of an arrow in my back and did not pause until I was out of the reach of any torchlight. Only then, when I felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, did I pull our galloping horse to a stop and wheel him around. The gates were still partially open, and in that span of about four feet, I could see glimpses of my loved ones still battling their attackers. I saw Marcello’s guy go down, saw Marcello leap over the body and then disappear.

  Come on. Come on! That patrol had to be almost on top of them by now. They hadn’t been that far away. Come on!

  I willed them to come through the gates.

  Please, Lord, please, help them. Release them. Free them!

  Lia emerged first, running with a limp, her right hand on her left shoulder. Luca charged through behind her, on his horse. He shouted to her, and she turned and lifted her right arm. Never pausing, he grabbed it, and she swung through the air in a crazy arc, landing squarely on the back of his horse. He continued to push the horse forward, toward me, toward the safety of the darkness. But I was looking past him, waiting for Mom, Dad.

  And Marcello.

  I slid from my horse’s back.

  I could hear the roar of men’s cries. The patrol. My eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t breathe. I was in full-blown panic. But I could not stop myself. I had no resources, no walls left. I let out a sob and ran past Luca and Lia. I had to go to them. Help them. Save them.

  “M’lady!” Luca cried. I heard his grunt as he jumped from his horse before they’d come to a full stop. But I did not turn.

  “M’lady!”

  “Gabi! No! Stop!” Lia cried.

  But I could see them now, my parents, Marcello, in a small circle, each meeting strike after strike, through the four-foot gap of the gate. I had to get to them. Help them.

  I found my momentum, my last bit of strength, truly in a wolflike fury at seeing my loved ones in such danger. There is no way…No…Way…

  Luca tackled me, then. We rolled in the soft, sandy, dried grass, over and over before we came to a stop. I gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of me.

  “We’ll go!” he cried, already on his knees, then his feet. “But you stay here! It is what Marcello wanted!”

  They ran on, he and Lia, and I turned, still wondering if my lungs would ever again draw breath. I saw Lia kneel, aim, and an arrow sail through the gate. Then another, on Luca’s far side as he ran, the perspective almost making it look as though she had struck him instead.

  I finally took a ragged breath, choked by my tears and panic, and then another, sounding more the asthmatic than any warrior. I forced myself to my feet as Luca and then Lia disappeared behind the gates again.

  Held my breath while I couldn’t see any of them for a second, two, three…

  Sobbed again and ran forward, dragging my sword like a drunken knight, madly seeking one, just one of my people in the four-foot gap. But all I saw were Roman soldiers, Roman soldiers, Roman soldiers…

  I paused, wondering if my loved ones were gone, dead.

  A chill ran down my back.

  What good is freedom if not one of the people I love is with me?

  Chapter Twenty

  I was running again, a foreign cry in my throat—had I morphed into a real wolf now?—charging toward the gate. Twenty feet away, fifteen, ten, when I was again waylaid.

  An arm encircled my waist and hauled me backward, kicking and screaming.

  Gradually I understood the voice behind me was one of a friend, calming, soothing, desperately trying to reach me. “M’lady, ’tis I, Georgii.”

  “And I, Lutterius,” said another.

  I looked up through my tears, and gradually focused on the first, and then his twin brother—the funny scouts that had led the way to Sansicino. Georgii looked into my eyes, as if knowing my thoughts exactly. “Let us see to it, m’lady.”

  “Remain here,” said his brother.

  He gruffly handed me to a third man as they charged forward, swords raised. My heart pulsed painfully as twenty of our men joined them.

  My eyes rose to a silver-haired, older knight I recognized. Captain Pezzati. “M’lady,” he said, giving me that heart-softening smile, “your trial is at an end. We are here.” He gestured behind him, and for the first time, I saw that we were not alone.

  Behind him was row after row of knights, Siena’s finest, on horseback, on foot, carrying torches, flags, shields, swords, bows.

  A hundred, no, a thousand strong.

  I gasped and fell to my knees, my hands over my mouth, trying to catch my breath as my tears began anew.

  The man bent, caught me by my waist, and lifted me to a standing position. He slowly turned toward the men, and they cheered. “Lift your sword!” Captain Pezzati said in my ear. “Marcello’s men need you now. To know that you are well. Whole.”

  It was about the last thing I wanted to do—to raise my thirty-pound sword when my whole body felt about as strong as a giant wet noodle.

  But I did it. For my family. For Marcello and Luca.

  And to be honest, even with the captain beside me, helping to hold my noodle-like elbow up, tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared across the men, lifting my sword higher and higher. It was what I saw beyond the Sienese knights in uniform that brought on the waterworks. Not only was the paid guard here. Hundreds of citizens followed behind.

  “She-Wolf! She-Wolf! She-Wolf!”

  I turned and was vaguely aware that Captain Pezzati continued to hold me upright, like a ventriloquist with a doll come to life.

  I dragged my eyes to the gate and saw movement. Was that—?

  And then I saw them striding through, their horses lost. I recognized them by silhouette. Mom, with Lia. Dad. Luca.

  Marcello and the twins.

  How had all my loved ones escaped?

  “Whoa,” said the captain beside me as I tried to move, faltered. I pushed his hands away as if my weakness was his fault. I stumbled forward, rose, and limped through the mushy grass toward them, knowing the guy was right behind me.

  Mom and Lia reached me first, and we fell into a tearful embrace. Dad came next, wrapping us all with his long arms. I stood there a moment, despite the circumstances, caught in the sensation of being enveloped, entwined with the three people I’d loved longest.

  Then Luca was there, shyly taking Lia’s hand. She stepped away, a little bashful, letting Luca wrap his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the men. The men cheered anew and then hushed as the Roman guards began filing out, taking formation before the wall. Hundreds poured out, like dry sand from a funnel.

  I turned to face Marcello and the twins, then I stepped forward, and he was sweeping me into his arms, lifting me, cradling my neck, leaning down to kiss me soundly. The men exploded in cheers. Even my dad was laughing, in that unique way that was his, what I had so missed when he was gone.…

  But my eyes were on Marcello as he carried me, striding toward the men, who fell into tighter formation. I lifted my hand to his cheek and smiled. “You have no idea how good it is to be in your arms, Marcello. How much I missed you.”

  “Did it feel like half your heart was gone?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “Hmm. I might have experienced that. And more.” He set me on my feet in front of the men, but his eyes were still on me. “Except my whole heart was gone.” He looked up to the twins, on horseback. “See Lady Gabriella and her family, as well as the priest, to the back of our troops. Guard them yourselves, and bring twelve with you to make sure no one gets to them.”

  “Consider it done, m’lord,” said Ge
orgii. He offered his arm to me, and reluctantly I let him lead me through the sea of men that split before us. I glanced back for one more view of Marcello before the men blocked him from my sight again. I noticed that Lutterius, who followed behind, looked as though he was being punished, cut out of the action.

  “Come now, ’tis not that bad, Lutterius,” I said. “Many, many people wish to kill us. I’d wager you’ll have to wield your sword to save us again before sunup.” I giggled, recognizing that I was punchy, silly, but unable to stop myself.

  “Pay her no heed,” Lia said, rolling her eyes. “She has endured much.”

  “’Twould be an honor to defend you, m’lady,” Georgii said. “We failed you once; we shall not fail you again.”

  “You did not fail us,” I said tiredly. “We were merely outwitted in Sansicino. For a moment.” I raised a finger as well as an eyebrow. “That is what I shall not let happen again.”

  “Until it does,” Lia said with a laugh.

  I giggled with her. She shook her head, and we finally reached the last group of men. Several huddled around Father Tomas, and they rose as we neared.

  I fell to my knees on the blanket that was spread beneath Tomas and felt for his pulse as the men cheered behind us, responding to something Marcello was yelling a hundred yards away. He was revving them up, getting them psyched—for what? To take on the remnant of Rome? I glanced over my shoulder, and Dad looked down at me. “Let him handle it,” he said lowly in English. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  I held his gaze a moment and smiled. So he liked him. Respected him. A little.

  I turned back to Tomas and leaned down, listening at his mouth to hear how he was breathing, but I had to rely on the rise and fall of his chest instead to know that he was still alive. It was far too noisy to hear. Mom kneeled on the other side of him. “See anything?” I asked as I pointed. “His wound was that side, that shoulder.”