Cascade

by Lisa T. Bergren

  Marcello and the first knight fell down at the front end of the skiff, rolling from one side to the other. I heard Marcello grunt, and they rolled again, this time with the enemy knight atop him, hands around his neck. I hovered in the water, wondering if I should stay hidden or leap up, help Marcello—when the knight’s eyes widened, spying me there.

  It was the opening Marcello needed. He plunged a dagger into the man’s neck. Blood spurted down, into my eyes, and in horror, I pushed down, intending to just wash off, so I could see again. But at that moment, the skiff rocked precariously again, and I lost my grip.

  I was under the skiff, riding along in the current.

  For a long moment, I wondered if this would be it. If I would drown here, in the waters of the river Arno.

  But then the boat was no longer on top of me. I rose, gasping for air, and felt a strong hand grab my forearm. “There you are, m’lady,” Luca said, hauling me halfway over the edge, before turning to meet another knight’s strike, punching him in the face and then, when he hovered at the edge, shoving him backward into the water.

  Lia crawled over to me, then helped me all the way into the skiff.

  Men were running along the river’s edge, holding torches high. Light danced across the water to us.

  “Well, that’s not good,” Luca said.

  “Truly?” Marcello said, panting. “’Tis not good to have half of Firenze alerted that we are here?”

  “Nay,” Luca said, tucking a thumb in his belt. “If we are to properly free Lady Betarrini, then all of Firenze must be chasing us. That is the makings of legend.”

  Marcello reached down and waited until I placed my frigid fingers into his. He bent down and kissed my knuckles. “I believe Gabriella has endured quite enough to give the bards sufficient yeast for their bloated tales.”

  Luca shrugged as if he didn’t want to argue it. I knew that he was just kidding around, back to his normal cocky self. It strengthened me, to see him well again. It gave me hope that I might be too, sometime soon.

  But my eyes moved to the next bridge, just ahead of us. Men were running across it, even now, getting ready to meet us. Would I never be free of this cursed city? I’d always liked Firenze, in my old life. Michelangelo’s David, the bronze doors of the Baptistery, the passageways beneath the magnificent brick dome…but right then, I decided it’d be fine with me if I never saw the place again.

  “Get me home to Siena,” I said to Marcello through chattering teeth.

  He stared down at me. “I shall, Gabriella. Trust me.”

  I looked back up into his eyes. The guy had no doubt braved several battles, crossed a heavily fortified border, breached an enemy city wall, and found a way to get me this far. If there was anyone I could trust, it was him. “I do,” I said, my teeth chattering.

  He reached for his cape and wound it around my shoulders. “One more battle,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Then we’ll be free of this city so intent on keeping you.”

  He turned and studied the bridge again. We could see fifteen torches, more on their way. “We need a bit of distraction, Evangelia,” he said. “Flaming arrows might do the trick.”

  She smiled and immediately moved to the front of the skiff. In short order, she’d torn off some of her underskirts and wound them around the tip of her arrow.

  Luca reached for the lantern we’d scored from the guys who tried to intercept us, and opened the door so that she could light the first. “Take into account the added weight,” he said, as she pulled it away, the flame licking upward.

  “Indeed,” she said. She glanced toward the bridge, gauging the distance, seemingly able to ignore the flame, growing, licking terribly close to her bowstring.

  If that reaches the sinew—

  But then it was away, arcing up and onto the roof. It hit and clattered down between the tiles.

  “Good, but the next two need to hit something flammable,” Marcello said. “We must put this lantern out. In seconds, they’ll be firing back upon us.”

  Luca was already wrapping the next arrow. Lia bent to light it, and Luca wrapped another.

  We were getting close enough that we could hear the men downstream, above the wash of the river. Two fired arrows at us; one hit the back of the skiff, the other to our left side. “Snuff it out,” Marcello said again in a growl.

  “Just a moment,” Lia mumbled, sending the arrow flying, already reaching for the next.

  Marcello and I watched as the last sputtered and seemed to go out, even as it reached its intended target—a thatched roof. But then three seconds later, a flame grew where it rested. “You did it, Lia!” I cried.

  “This shall be,” she said, releasing the third flaming arrow, “even more true.”

  It hit the opposite side, nestling into the reeds of another thatched roof.

  Men began to cry out, abandoning their posts now to go and fight the fire.

  “One more,” she said.

  Three arrows sliced down, right beside us. All three went into the water, but they missed the skiff by inches.

  “Last one,” Marcello said, letting her light it.

  We were but fifty feet from the bridge, which was coming fast, since the river narrowed here.

  Lia fired, and the fourth arrow went into an open window. Immediately, we could see light dancing inside.

  “You have done well, Evangelia,” Marcello said. “Now all three of you, prepare to be boarded.” Thinking better of putting out the lantern, he set it upon the other skiff, and together, he and Luca gave it a mighty shove, then did their best to put distance between it and us. With some luck, our enemies would think the other skiff carried us. He turned toward me. “Do you have the strength to wield a sword?”

  “And a dagger, m’lord,” I returned, even though my teeth still chattered. There was no way I was going to enter this fight unarmed…

  He grinned and handed me both, courtesy of the dead Firenze knights. “What do you say we take the battle to them?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Do you trust me, Gabriella?”

  “I do, but—”

  But he was already over with Luca and Lia, telling them in a whisper what was about to come down.

  Atop the bridge, twenty feet away and fifteen feet above us, people battled two major flames, and a third was growing, seemingly undiscovered as yet. We could hear the confusion in their voices.

  They escape! Water! We need water! Stop them! Seize them! Fire! They approach! There they are! Arrows away, you fools!

  The other skiff drew their fire for a bit, until the torchlight finally reached both boats, and it was clear none of us was upon the other. We sensed the mob above move toward us, even as we finally entered the relative protection of the great stone arches.

  Fire! Over here! They’re beneath the bridge! Here they come! Ready yourselves!

  Marcello grabbed hold of me at the waist, and even in the deep shadows, I could see that there was a narrow dock beside the arches, with a steep stair stretching upward to the bottom of a shop. Cargo dock. We landed hard upon it, with Luca and Lia right behind us.

  I sank to the stair while the three of them turned and lifted the edge of the skiff. In a second, they had it tipped and let it loose.

  Where are they? Do you see them? The scoundrels! Bring water! Do they swim? Keep alert! They may be in the water!

  We were underneath a trapdoor that opened onto the bridge. No one was directly above us, by the sound of it. A rope appeared hanging from the arch to our left, and a man came sliding down it, yelling.

  “Evangelia—” Luca began.

  But her arrow had already pierced our attacker’s neck, and he fell to the top of the skiff, dead.

  “Have I told you how much I think of your sister?” Luca asked with a grin. Marcello was through the cargo door and reached down to help me up. Lia came next, then Luca. We stood in the center of a tiny shop atop the bridge.

  Outside, we could hear the melee.

  There
they are! They’ve overturned! One is dead! No, that’s our man! A woman screamed. Where are they? Fire! You fools, leave them to drown and come and douse this fire before all is lost!

  I pulled Marcello’s dark cape closer, trying to cover every bit of the luxurious gown I could. He reached back, took my hand, and then dived out the door, running decidedly to the left.

  Lia put her hand on my shoulder, clearly determined to not get separated.

  It was a crazy scene. The bridge had been overbuilt, with two- and even three-story houses, side by side, all the way across it. On the bottom level were shops, with homes above. Men, women, and children ran, fleeing the flames. Knights dashed along the edge, searching the dark, roiling waters for us. Men swore and shouted orders. Women screamed. Children cried.

  “That way!” Marcello said anxiously, thumping a man on the shoulder and pointing beyond us. “They’ve cleared the bridge!”

  The man ran on, never looking back at us.

  He’s brilliant, I thought, staring up at the silhouette of Marcello’s curly hair as he led us forward. Had we cleared the other side of the bridge on the skiff, they would have pierced our backs with arrows.

  This was our only way. And in the confusion, it looked like we just might make it out. Everyone seemed either preoccupied by the fires or looking for us in the water.

  That was my thought.

  Right before a troop of six massive knights stopped fifteen feet from us, swords drawn.

  CHAPTER 26

  “Surrender,” said the captain, a man who looked like he’d been spending his whole life at Gold’s Gym. “You are surrounded.”

  I glanced back. He wasn’t faking it. Six more behind us. Both groups were about twenty feet away.

  No convincing these dudes that they had the wrong foursome. No way through but through…

  “Evangelia…” Luca said.

  But she was already down on one knee, taking down two knights with two rapid strokes across her bow.

  Every knight still on his feet charged.

  Marcello glanced at Luca over my head. “Back to the water?”

  “I think it’s best, yes,” he said.

  They grabbed my hands and pulled, yanking me to the wall, only a short distance from men who still searched the dark waters for us. “Dive far and deep,” Marcello growled. He bent, forming a stirrup with his hand, his eyes on the men, coming fast behind us. I did not hesitate. Besides, ten against four was hardly a fair fight—and that wasn’t even counting the rest of the city’s faithful, all hoping to pierce us with their swords, arrows, or daggers.

  My launch was totally lame, however, since I instinctively put my right foot in his hands, forgetting my injury, and I faltered as I felt my hamstring tighten. Fortunately, Marcello used my momentum and sent me flying as best he could.

  I glimpsed Lia, already ahead of me, diving toward the water as people screamed, spotting us. I hoped our men were right behind us, but I knew I had to stay under as long as possible. Far and deep.

  The water felt curiously warm this time. Maybe ’cause I’m so dang cold…hypothermic. Definitely in hypothermia territory. Hypothermia-city. Hypothermaroma. Now I was making stupid internal jokes. I really had to be losing it.

  I put my hands forward and pulled, drifting with the current, and imagined an arrow piercing my back. Dimly I wondered if I would even rise to the surface once I was hit, or if in the act of drowning, I would simply take one last breath, filling my lungs with water, and then sink to the bottom, my gown catching on the stones below, forever one with the Arno.

  I could not stay under any longer. I kicked and pulsed upward, knowing I needed air, despite the risk. Frowning, I tried to kick again. The dress, while it was much lighter than it had been, was still a sodden weight, clinging with frustrating dedication to my legs. I seemed to be sinking rather than making any progress. I opened my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the surface, know how far I had to go to make it. But all was dark, so dark.

  A hand grasped my hair, and I winced, pulled away. But then I knew it was a friend, searching for me in the inky waters. I reached up and grabbed hold of it. Male. Marcello? Luca?

  We broke the surface, and I coughed and sputtered, splashing as I tried to stay above water. Without the skiff to hold on to, the gown continued to be like an anchor, trying to pull me to my death.

  “Shh, I have you,” Marcello said, an arm around my chest, easing me backward onto his. I could barely make out the forms of Lia and Luca, a few feet away, swimming with us. “Almost to shore. Be at peace.”

  Be at peace. Sure. I’ve about died a hundred times over in the last week. And you’re wanting me to hush and be a good girl.

  I wanted to lash out at him. Scream. Weep. Laugh. All at once.

  Yeah, I was pretty much losing it.

  I opted for crying as we reached the rocks on the far side of the river. Then I was mad, because crying made me feel weak and lame.

  He cradled me close, against him, pulling me half out of the water. Then he leaned over me, pressing me back between two giant boulders, underneath him, kissing my face and my eyes, as if trying to soothe me. What was he doing? Making a move on me when I was half frozen and half dead? Among rocks that smelled of rotting grass and fish and worse? I pushed against him.

  He grabbed my wrist and leaned closer. “Shh, Gabriella, shh. Please,” he whispered. “I shall get you home, I promise. But please…They approach.”

  I quieted, my weeping and crazy hiccups seeming loud in my ears, despite the rush of the water past us. I was so losing it.

  We could hear the beat of horse hooves on a cobblestone road above us. Two men trailed behind, torches raised, searching the rocks.

  For us.

  Where were Lia and Luca?

  The riders came closer, hovering horribly near us for a long moment. I was still crying, unable to stop now, my broken, choppy breath like silent screams in the night.

  I shut my eyes tight, tucking my head into the crook of Marcello’s neck and collarbone, clinging to his shirt. I wanted to melt into him, summon his strength and resolve, remember myself again.

  A group of horses clattered to a stop above us. “Anything?” barked a man.

  “Nothing, m’lord. They’ve either swum onward or drowned.”

  “Continue your search. We must not stop until we have them in hand or find their wretched corpses.”

  “Yes, sir.” The torches moved on, beyond us. I choked on my own spit, trying to stay quiet, and then gasped.

  One torch returned, hovering. Marcello tensed above me, my rock, my shield. I imagined him leaping from the shore, tackling the knight above us, like some defending angel of the river.

  But then, after a call from downriver, the man and his torch moved on.

  I gave in to my sobs. “Forgive me, Marcello. Forgive me.”

  “Nay, shh. It is I who needs forgiveness. If it were not for me you would not be here, suffering—”

  “Nay,” I said, reaching up and kissing his jaw, his cheeks, his lips, holding his head between my hands. “If it were not for you, I would be in that cage inside Firenze’s walls, dead, be it from the cold or from thirst.” I wished I could see him, but it was too dark.

  “Come, beloved,” he said, taking my hand and helping me up.

  We crawled up and through the rocks. I sighed in relief as Luca and Lia’s whispered calls reached us from the shelter of the trees on the opposite side of the road. There was a break among the groups of soldiers searching along the Arno’s banks. We had to hurry if we didn’t want to be seen.

  I limped across the road beside Marcello, feeling every bit of my exhaustion. “I know of a place where we can rest until morn,” Marcello said in my ear, the trees closing in around us like a welcome blanket. “With daylight, you shall remember your strength.” Then, no doubt tiring of my slow, belabored pace, he swept me into his arms.

  I leaned my forehead against his chest as he walked, steady and sure.

  Luc
a was ahead of us, Lia behind. In that moment, I felt hope, peace. I wanted to freeze time, to feel this—my friend, my sister, and my love all around me, and, for a few seconds at least, not in grave danger. Firenze, though it was but a half mile distant, felt much farther.

  We moved deeper into the forest, Marcello clearly aware of where he was going. I didn’t know if it was my desire to stay forever there, in that moment, or my exhaustion, or both, but in a few more steps, I could not keep sleep from claiming me.

  I awakened on a pile of clean-smelling straw, Lia’s arm draped over my waist. Her breathing was soft and steady, her lithe body warm and welcome against my back.

  Luca snored in the corner, leaning against the far wall, his hands wrapped around his sword. I looked around and found Marcello, standing in the open doorway, the rich, golden sunlight of dawn filtering around him. He was looking out, watching, but he seemed at ease, peaceful. Beyond him, the wind stirred, and oak leaves fell. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then tucked his head, as if thinking.

  I smiled. He had come for me. Saved me. How many times would this man save my life? And I his? I hoped we were getting to the end of having to go to such lengths. Surely, our luck couldn’t hold out forever.

  Luck? Or God? It seemed as if something, or Someone, wanted us alive. If I were just a lucky girl I would have won the lottery or something.

  Maybe I had, I thought, staring dreamily at Marcello.

  He glanced over at me then, as if sensing my gaze, and gave me a soft smile, like I was some sort of vision about to disappear with the wind. He cocked his head, his smile growing, and came over to me, gently lifting Lia’s arm and helping me rise. He settled her arm so carefully, so sweetly, that I fell a little bit more in love with him right then and there.

  He led me over to the doorway, and I looked out over a tiny farm, not much more than the ruins of a half-collapsed stone cottage and this small stable, still intact. He pulled me into his arms, and I leaned in against his chest, wrapping my arms around his broad back, pure muscle beneath his shirt. “Ahh, Gabriella,” he said, holding me more tightly. “How I feared I would never see you again.”