“I’m Old Dino and these are my boys, Big Dino and Little Dino,” said an elderly man clutching a polearm with a curved, jagged blade. His two sons, one heavyset, the other bone thin, each held similarly frightening-looking scythes.
Ozo kept going down the group. “And these three are the finest individuals to wield swords across all three empires, next to me of course. Sforza, Spike, and Sveva.”
Sforza snarled, exposing yellowed, rotten teeth. Spike adjusted his round helmet. Attached to it was chain mail that covered his face, except for two black, beady eyes.
Sveva looked around, distracted by a fly buzzing near her head. Before Giacomo knew what was happening, Sveva’s blade whipped through the air and the two halves of the fly fell to the dirt.
Giacomo flinched. “Stay clear of her, okay?” he whispered to Mico.
Ozo arrived at the last two men in line. One wore armored gauntlets and carried a double-headed ax. “Meet Zatto the Beheader.” A wide smile emerged from within Zatto’s bushy black beard.
“An absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Zatto said in a gentle voice that didn’t match his vicious looks.
“And finally, our secret weapon, Valcaro. Handgunner.”
Valcaro was clad in black armor from head to toe, his face hidden behind a cylindrical helm with two slits for eyes. Over his shoulder, he held a long wooden pole with a vented metal tube attached to its end. It didn’t look as imposing as the other weapons, but Giacomo knew it was equally deadly, able to fire steel balls at tremendous speeds.
With the introductions out of the way, Ozo’s face hardened. “Now, I want to get clear of Virenzia before dawn and we got a lot of ground to cover, so say your goodbyes and we’ll get moving.”
While Ozo divided up the money among his mercenaries, Giacomo and his companions gathered around Baldassare and Pietro. Savino gave the men firm handshakes.
“Thank you both, for giving me a home … for keeping Luna safe.” Aaminah hugged Baldassare, then Pietro.
Milena gently touched the back of Pietro’s hand. “You’ve taught me so much. We’ll be back soon with the Compass, I promise.”
“Watch out for one another and stay alert,” Pietro urged.
“We will,” Giacomo said. “Goodbye.”
Pietro’s expression turned grave. “Ugalino and his Tulpa are out there somewhere. Never forget that your lives and your Geniuses’ lives will be in constant danger. Fail, and any hope for Virenzia’s renaissance will die with you.”
Giacomo felt as though Pietro had saddled him with a heavy yoke. The others stared at their teacher with wide, stunned eyes. No one knew what to say.
“I think what he means is ‘good luck,’” Baldassare said, trying to lighten Pietro’s bleakness. He gave a quick blow on his whistle and the four Geniuses flocked to him. He fed them pellets of food from his cupped hand. “And good luck to you too, feathered friends. May you inspire and protect your artists.”
“What was rule number one?” Ozo hollered from across the courtyard, where he and his team were ready to depart.
“Follow you!” Milena replied. “We’re coming!”
Giacomo slung his bag over his shoulder as he and the others hustled after Ozo and his mercenaries, who were already ascending the hill behind the villa. His nerves still rattled by Pietro’s grim warning, Giacomo took one last look at Virenzia disappearing into the fog and a frightening thought struck him. I might never see my home again.
* * *
Ozo led the group up to the ridge, then down the other side, along a craggy trail. Half his troops marched in front of the children, the other half behind. Anytime Giacomo’s pace slowed, the Bull shoved him to keep him moving.
After a couple of hours, they broke from the main route. Giacomo was about to ask where they were going, when he saw why they’d detoured. Ozo had a team of horses waiting for them, packed with supplies, ready to carry them the rest of the way.
“Mount up, everyone!” Ozo ordered.
By the time each mercenary claimed a steed, there were only two left. Giacomo was about to ask Milena if she wanted to ride with him, but Aaminah beat him to it. The girls jumped onto the back of a white horse with a brown mane, while Giacomo was forced to sit behind Savino on a spotted gray mount that seemed more the size of a pony than a full-grown horse.
“I think we got stuck with the runt,” Savino complained.
They trekked all night, climbing higher and higher into the mountains that bordered Virenzia to the north. As darkness departed, the stars vanished into the dawn’s pink sky. The sun crept over the mountains in the east.
“Can we take a break?” Giacomo called out.
Ozo stopped his horse and whipped around. “Oh, do you have to pee?”
“Actually, I do, thanks for asking—”
“Then hold it! We stop when I say we stop.” Ozo’s horse continued on.
Aaminah pulled out her flute. “How about some music?” As she played a warm, happy tune, Luna projected rolling waves of light around them.
“And no music!” Ozo barked. “You trying to call attention to us?”
“Sorry,” Aaminah said, sheepishly tucking her flute back into her belt.
Giacomo leaned over to her. “I thought it sounded nice,” he whispered.
“These guys seem more like captors than escorts,” Savino muttered.
At least their Geniuses were enjoying themselves. No longer constrained by the villa, Mico, Nero, Luna, and Gaia glided overhead, chirping happily. Giacomo imagined himself jumping on Mico’s back and being carried away into the clouds. Maybe someday, when Mico grows bigger.
After several more hours, and only one short break to refill their waterskins, they emerged above the tree line and picked up a rocky trail that ran along the ridge. Without any tree cover, the wind whipped the kids’ faces and the sun burned hot. Giacomo squinted, trying to make out the end of the mountain range, but it seemed to extend forever.
“Time to set up camp,” Ozo informed everyone.
“Finally…” Giacomo jumped off his horse. But then he looked back and saw why Ozo was so willing to stop—a mass of gray clouds threatened to overtake them. Thunder rumbled and a bolt of lightning shot out of the sky.
Ozo paused at a flat plateau dotted with moss-covered boulders and ringed by pine trees. A large shelf of rock jutted from the mountainside, forming an overhang.
“Gather firewood,” Ozo ordered. “We’ll take cover here.”
While the Dino family tied up the horses, Giacomo plunked down on a fallen tree trunk and scarfed up a few salty pieces of dried meat. By the time he finished, the mercenaries had already gathered a pile of dead branches and were crowded under the rocky ledge. As the first fat drops of rain plopped on Giacomo’s head, he and his companions went to join the mercenaries.
Ozo waved them off. “This is our shelter. You and your Geniuses find your own.” It was clear from Ozo’s tone that the matter wasn’t up for discussion, but Savino didn’t get the message.
“Baldassare paid you to keep us safe,” he argued. “This shelter is as much ours as it is yours.”
“He paid us to deliver you to the Cave of Alessio and back home, not coddle you all the way,” Ozo said.
“Let us in!” Savino reached for his hatchet.
Aaminah put a hand on Savino’s arm, stopping him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “We’ll make do.”
With a grunt, Savino brushed her off and stomped away.
Thunder rolled and buckets of rain poured from the sky. The Geniuses took refuge in the trees, while the horses huddled underneath them, whinnying anxiously. Savino paced back and forth, rubbing his arms to keep warm. Giacomo crouched with Milena and Aaminah between two boulders.
In the mercenaries’ shelter, the handgunner, Valcaro—still wearing his helmet—lit a fire with a long match from his belt.
Malocchio tracked Savino with her one good eye. “Aw, poor little Genius-boy, feeling cold?” she called out mockingly. “Sur
e is nice and cozy in here, ain’t it?” The mercenaries guffawed and hollered, which only made Savino redder in the face.
Aaminah stared at the boulders surrounding them and jumped up, bouncing on her tiptoes. “Who needs them? We can make our own shelter!”
“How?” Savino said, looking around. “There aren’t any other outcroppings or caves around here.”
“We just need to get a little creative,” Aaminah said. “Savino and Giacomo, gather the densest pine branches you can find. Milena, help me collect some twigs and dead branches before they get too soaked.”
While the girls scoured the ground, Savino scaled one of the trees, cutting down pine boughs with his hatchet. Giacomo stood below, catching them as they fell. Following Aaminah’s instructions, he laid the boughs across the tops of three boulders, creating a thick canopy. When he was finished, it resembled a small hut with rocks for walls and an evergreen roof. Aaminah ushered everyone inside, where they huddled together in the makeshift shelter. Other than a few drips, Aaminah’s structure kept most of the rain off them.
“How’d you learn to build something like this?” Giacomo asked her.
“When you grow up in the country, you learn to use what nature gives you,” Aaminah replied.
Milena dropped a handful of small sticks on the ground. Aaminah held two small rocks in her hands and struck them against each other, creating a spark. After a couple of tries, the tinder lit up. She blew gently on the tiny fire, encouraging the flames to grow. The warmth dried Giacomo’s damp skin.
Savino pulled a carving tool from his belt and began whittling a chunk of wood. He glanced up at the pine branch roof, which sagged in the middle. “If this thing holds up until morning, I’ll be surprised,” he grumbled.
“Why do you have to be so grumpy all the time?” Aaminah shot back. “We’re dry, we have a fire, we’re all together … enjoy it!”
While Aaminah tried to brighten their damp spirits by singing a song, Giacomo took out his sketchbook and began drawing. Soon though, the day’s travel began to wear on him, and he fell asleep with his pencil still in his hand.
* * *
Giacomo woke the next morning to Ozo’s voice booming, “Pack it up! We’re moving on!”
He scrambled out of the shelter, which had kept them dry all night. Outside, he found Savino admitting to Aaminah that maybe she had some useful survival skills after all.
Giacomo devoured a cracker, washed it down with a swig of water, and hopped onto the spotted horse, behind Savino.
The group continued along the ridgeline at a slow trot. Thankfully, the skies had cleared and Virenzia was far behind them; all signs pointed to a smooth journey. In a couple of weeks, they’d make it to the Cave of Alessio and the Compass would be theirs.
For the next seven days, they traveled without incident, not counting all the times Ozo yelled at one of the children for falling behind, or for taking too long to eat, or for looking at him the wrong way. But despite his gruffness, Ozo seemed to genuinely take their safety and the mission seriously. He found a secluded path through a narrow valley that snaked between the mountains of the Calbrini Range; in order to make up for any lost time he pushed the horses to gallop for short bursts.
Then one morning, when they were more than halfway to the Cave of Alessio, Ozo called out, “Hold up, we got a problem!”
The team caught up to Ozo, who had stopped where the trail abruptly disappeared. Cut into the earth was a deep gorge with sheer cliffs, over a hundred feet wide. An imposing stone statue, more than twice Ozo’s height, towered on either side of the path. The statues stood sentry, their swords forming an archway. Vines and moss covered their legs and torsos, their faces worn smooth by time. One statue’s nose had broken off, while the other had lost multiple fingers.
“I passed through here a few years ago,” Ozo grumbled. “And I definitely remember there being a bridge.”
Milena ran her hand along the noseless statue’s stone armor. “Incredible … Looks like it was carved from one huge chunk of rock. Savino, you should check this out.”
“In a second,” Savino said, busy studying the map he’d brought.
“We’ll follow the edge of the gorge south and go around,” Ozo said.
“But that’s going to add at least another week to our journey,” Savino argued. “On my map, it looks like the gorge starts narrowing just north of where we are. Maybe we can find somewhere to cross.”
Ozo snatched the map out of Savino’s hand and tossed it over the edge of the cliff, where a gust of wind carried it away. “I make the route. Not you.”
Savino’s hand shot to his hatchet. He yanked it from his belt and took a step toward Ozo. “That was my only map!”
In a flash, Zatto the Beheader drew his ax and swung it at Savino. The curved blade lopped the hatchet’s head clean off its handle. Savino jumped back.
“Next time he cuts off body parts,” Ozo threatened.
Zatto’s fierce expression softened into a polite smile. “But I’d rather not. So please don’t give me a reason to.”
Savino stared in disbelief at the stump of wood left in his hand. He tossed it to the ground without another word.
“If you need to answer nature’s call, now’s the time to do it,” the Bull called out. “We leave in two minutes.”
The male mercenaries dismounted, lined up along the edge of the gorge, and emptied their bladders over the side, their streams of urine turning to mist. The women found privacy behind some shrubs. Giacomo sat at the base of the noseless statue and leaned against its moss-covered legs, relieved to be off his horse for a couple minutes.
A second later, the ground rumbled. The statue shifted, and Giacomo shot to his feet, convinced he’d accidentally toppled it. But the statue didn’t fall. It’s moving on its own! He froze as its leg rose up, ripping away the vines that clung to it. The statue shook its head, tossing off chunks of moss and dust, covering Giacomo.
“Uh … guys?” Giacomo said, still not believing what he was seeing. Mico let out a whoop, whoop, whoop, alerting everyone. The horses got spooked and ran, tearing off along the ridge, where they disappeared around a bend.
Milena whirled around. “What did you do?”
“Nothing! The statue started moving on its own!” Giacomo stumbled away, accidentally backing into the second statue, which also groaned to life. Its left hand reached out, as if searching for its missing fingers. The two statues dislodged their crossed swords and swung at Giacomo, who stood paralyzed with terror.
He felt a meaty hand grab the back of his collar and yank him out of the path of the stone blades. Ozo hurled Giacomo to the ground, then faced the noseless statue, sword drawn. A stony fist swung down hard. Ozo met it with his steel and sparks flew. The force of the blow drove Ozo to one knee. He rolled right to avoid the next strike. Giacomo scrambled away on all fours, Mico hovering close.
“Savino, we have to cross now!” Milena shouted. “Aaminah, we’ll need you too!” They hurried to the edge of the chasm and looked across.
Giacomo tried to join them, but the statues kept targeting him, knocking aside any mercenary who got in the way. Arrows pinged off the statues’ torsos; swords and spears clinked uselessly against their stony skin. The Bull fired a shot from his crossbow, but before he could reload, the fingerless statue walloped him, sending him tumbling across the ground. The Bull dug his feet into the earth, slowing himself to a stop an inch away from the chasm’s edge.
“Valcaro, fire!” Ozo ordered. The gun-carrying mercenary dropped to one knee, struck a large match against his armor, and lit the barrel’s fuse. The gun burst with smoke and flame, causing Valcaro to recoil. A metal ball blasted away a chunk of the noseless statue’s right shoulder.
“Reload!” Ozo commanded.
The mercenaries formed a wall between the statues and Valcaro, protecting their handgunner as he furiously packed powder into his gun’s barrel.
Giacomo looked past the line of mercenaries to the cliff, wh
ere Milena drew brushstrokes in the air. Gaia projected a line of glowing hexagons, starting at the edge of the cliff. The shapes interlocked, forming a narrow bridge that extended partway over the gorge, its surface glimmering like green glass.
As her last row of hexagons flashed on and off, Milena yelled, “Gaia’s reached her limit! She can’t project any more! Your turn, Savino!”
Savino whistled and his Genius flew to the end of Milena’s section. Savino swiped his pencil and Nero projected one hexagon after another, extending the interlocking pattern farther out over the gorge. His shimmering strip of blue reached halfway across before Nero’s gem flickered, signaling that his power had also been depleted.
A horrifying scream snapped Giacomo’s attention back to the mercenaries. Accosius was looking up at the fingerless statue, crossbow raised, his already bulging eyes swollen even wider with fear. His legs were stuck to the ground, encased in a stony skin. Like a pond freezing over, the stone crept all the way up Accosius’s body. His scream didn’t cease until his head was entombed in rock.
“Don’t look those things in the eyes!” Ozo shouted.
The noseless statue turned in Giacomo’s direction, and the boy averted his gaze. Valcaro fired off another shot. Broken rocks erupted from the statue’s chest. But despite the gaping hole in the middle of its body, it whirled back around and stalked toward the handgunner.
Valcaro reloaded, but it seemed to take forever. As the statue stomped closer, Giacomo fumbled in his satchel and pulled out his sketchbook and pencil. Frantic, he flipped to a blank page and drew circle after circle. Mico buzzed overhead, targeting circular red blasts at the approaching statue. The circles hit, but only chipped away tiny shards of stone. It would take hours to do enough damage to bring it down. We might not even have a few minutes, Giacomo realized.
Aggravated, the noseless statue turned again and charged at Giacomo. Mico made a beeline for its head, trying to distract it. The statue stopped and swatted, but Mico dodged and landed on its forehead. He bent down and jabbed his beak at its eye. The statue raised an open palm and swung. Mico squeaked and zipped out of the way just in time, causing the statue to slap itself in the face. It stumbled backward, stunned by its own blow.
Rebel Genius Page 12
