Cascade

by Lisa T. Bergren

  He yowled when I sliced his thigh. I ignored the sudden remembrance of my own aching leg, turning and bringing my sword around again, one-handed.

  He blocked my strike and sneered in my face. “The lady must—”

  With my left hand, I rammed my dagger into his gut, just under the edge of his breastplate, and waited for the knowledge of his impending doom to register in his hateful eyes.

  He dropped his sword and closed his hands around my neck, pushing me back.

  Surprised, I took a fumbling step and then fell, him on top of me.

  I didn’t get him right, deep enough, I thought. Still he pressed his thumbs into my throat, murder in his eyes.

  My own eyes were becoming narrowing tunnels of black when I felt him rock atop me, then roll away. I sat up, gasping, rubbing my throat, wondering if he had collapsed my windpipe.

  Luca leaned down into my line of vision and smiled, clasping my hand and helping me up. “So the Rossis are rotten from core to peel,” he said. “Be you well, m’lady?”

  I didn’t know where he’d come from, but relief flooded through me at the sight of his smiling eyes. “Fine, fine,” I lied with a gasp, glancing over at the captain’s lifeless form, waving Luca off even while wishing I could lean on him. “Giovanni?”

  He shook his head sadly.

  I absorbed that for a sec, suddenly realizing how close to the edge we were. My mother, Lia, the other men were bound to be in need of help. “Go.”

  He turned and ran, and I hobbled after him, trying to get my eyes to focus again and my breathing back to normal.

  Luca passed Lia as she let an arrow fly. It sliced into the shoulder of a knight circling my mother, and he staggered to the side.

  Mom didn’t hesitate. She brought up the edge of her staff and rammed the knight in the face, then turned the long stick around and rammed the pointed end into his gut.

  “Whoa,” Lia said as I reached her.

  “I know,” I said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, still panting. We hobbled toward her, my leg suddenly aching like crazy. “Our mom is some kind of freakin’ warrior queen.”

  “Luca,” she whispered, breaking away from me and running down the hill. I saw him then, fighting two knights, bending crazily backward in a moment to avoid one’s strike, then rolling to avoid the second’s.

  I lurched down the hill after Lia, my right thigh again demanding favor. But by the time I reached them, Lia had taken down one knight, Luca the other. Mom and Santino came over to us. Alonzo rode toward us, three horses’ reins in hand.

  Valente was on the ground, a gash across his head and a broadening circle of blood at his belly. I felt for a pulse. He was gone.

  “More coming!” cried Alonzo, handing us the reins.

  I glanced to the ridge—a mile distant—and frowned as I saw the hundreds of men there, poised to rush us, crush us. “Okay, maybe this whole bait thing wasn’t my best idea,” I muttered in English. We were only halfway to the tomb, and the sun was getting lower in the sky.

  Luca and Santino lifted me and Mom into our saddles. Lia was already atop her own horse. Luca grabbed Santino’s arm, and the man swung around and up, behind his captain. His horse was a quarter-mile distant—fortunately right by the road we had to take—drinking from a creek. We all turned and charged forward, well aware of the cloud of men not far behind us.

  We’d lost three of the six men we’d set off with—Giovanni, Pietro, Valente. But we still had Luca, Alonzo and Santino beside us. I glanced back and allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction. At least the plan was working. Hundreds of men were now after us, rather than after Marcello, cascading into the valley like water into a funnel. My man would be free to carry out his own plan this day; perhaps he was even on the offensive now, working to defeat those who dared to attack his noble city or hold his brother.

  Outside the village, we captured Santino’s horse at the small creek bed. We had no choice but to allow the horses to drink for a full minute. We hurriedly filled our skins and drank from the stream too, all the while watching the men coming closer and closer.

  “Their mounts will be in similar shape,” Luca said. “They will have to stop too.”

  “You hope,” I said, mounting while my gelding still drank. The others did the same. Unable to bear the pressure any longer, I yanked my horse’s reins upward, forcing him back to the road. In seconds, we were galloping in pairs toward our next cover—the woods that filled the valley leading to Castello Paratore and Castello Forelli.

  To our southwest, we could see clouds of smoke rising in the sky, but none were close to Siena. Probably a few villages getting torched by the bad guys, I thought. I welcomed the cool of the woods as we hit the crossroads of the old Roman road that ran between Siena and Firenze, and the cobblestone path that ran down our familiar valley. We pulled up and circled, oak leaves scattering around us, wanting to make certain that the men knew exactly where we were going.

  We did not want them to give up on us. Not yet.

  CHAPTER 33

  “’Tis a thorough enough look, m’lord?” Lia muttered to Luca.

  We all felt her unease. The men were close enough that we could make out sideburns and beards. But they hesitated, recognizing the significance of the crossroads, and there seemed to be some debate going on between their leaders. Would we be enough of a draw to keep them coming? Or would they turn and join in the assault on Siena? And therefore, Marcello?

  Too late, I recognized the inevitable.

  They divided.

  There goes my career as a military genius.

  A hundred still came our way, many of them on horseback. But I felt sick inside as we set off, knowing that more than a thousand now marched toward Siena. My only hope was that we had distracted them long enough that they would have to camp for the night before joining their comrades. Forgive me, Marcello, I thought. My plan failed.

  Would there be enough men to defeat those already inside? To turn away those that still came?

  We rounded the corner at full gallop, and things got even better.

  We nearly collided with Lord Paratore and his men.

  They were as surprised as we were, dividing narrowly to let our horses race between their two-by-two parade. It took me about twelve pairs before I decided my eyes had not tricked me—we really were in a very special version of misery. “Really? Paratore, of all people? A little help, God?” I muttered in prayer.

  But then we were fighting our way out, on serious defense. I swung my sword around, messy in my technique, trying to keep my seat atop the horse and in a bit of—okay, total—panic. I could sense Lord Paratore pushing his way toward us, hear the grate of his voice among the shouts and screams and grunts and groans of battle.

  Only the narrow road and towering trees kept us from immediate capture, since few had direct access to us. Paratore led a hundred men, and our delay had allowed those who pursued us to catch up.

  Surrounded. A hundred before us, a hundred behind. We had to take to the woods. Have. To. Get. To. The. Woods.

  I slid from my mount and pulled the horse in a circle, driving the two nearest knights back. I dived away, somersaulting down the small bank and then leaping to my feet and hobbling through the trees. Now my leg was seriously killing me, not to mention my ribs. I heard the crack of a tree branch behind me and ran faster, pressing through the vine maples and small white pines, desperately searching for a place to hide and figure out how to get back to help Lia and Mom and the rest.

  That was when I was grabbed from behind, and someone’s hand clasped over my mouth. I struggled, but he had my arms pinned to my side, my sword hanging uselessly from my hand. “Simply couldn’t tolerate our separation?” he asked, half laughing, half furious.

  I frowned and stilled, and he let me turn in his arms.

  Marcello.

  He lifted a finger to his lips. “We have been sent to surprise those who expected to surprise us,” he said in a whisper. “And rescue my brother. Wa
it here,” he commanded with a frown, pointing at the base of the tree. His head whipped around, toward the road. Men were coming, looking for me, maybe for the others, too.

  Without pause he took hold of my shoulders and shoved me down to the base of the trunk and pointed a finger in my face. “Truly,” he growled. “Do not try me further.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” I said, smiling up at him. “I didn’t leave Luca’s side,” I said defensively. “He’s here someplace.”

  He shook his head in exasperation at me, then turned and lifted an arm. Out of the woods crept a wave of Sienese loyalists, hundreds of them. My heart surged with hope. They were all dressed in brown and black, their faces smudged with dirt to help them blend in. A good hundred advanced with bows in their hands, an arrow drawn on each string.

  Lia broke through a patch of vine maples then, pausing and blinking slowly when she saw the men approaching. Then she rolled and came to her knees and drew her last arrow across her bow. A man tossed her a new quiver as he passed her, still waiting for more to come through.

  Luca was there then, running through the thick brush as if he was tearing through waist-deep water. His face froze and then lit up as he recognized comrades around us.

  At last Mom burst through the trees, but two knights were right behind her, gaining on her. Luca dived onto the closest, pounding him with his fist when they rolled to a stop. But the other grabbed her and wrenched her around.

  Slowly, three Sienese archers within six feet of them stood erect, all arrows pointing at the enemy’s head, neck, and heart. He stilled, blinked with wide eyes, then raised his arms in surrender. Mom picked up a tree branch and whirled, whacking him in the face.

  I laughed under my breath.

  But then the rest were through the trees, reaching us. The men waited until a good number appeared, then let the arrows fly, taking nearly all of them down. Only five were missed. Men with swords were next to rise, among the archers. They made short work of those who had survived as the next wave arrived, and again the archers took most of them out.

  Shouts were heard. Paratore bellowed an order to attack. But I could hear from my position that the men were scattering, afraid, confused. Horse hooves clattered away. A few brave troops dared to wade into the forest, only to meet their death. “Welcome to guerilla warfare, boys,” I muttered.

  I saw Marcello’s back as he and half of his men ran to cut off those who sought escape to the south. Luca ran with the other half in the opposite direction.

  They would never get home to Firenze nor live to attack another of Siena’s loyal people, nor even home to Castello Paratore. Not if our guys had anything to say about it.

  I smiled as Mom and Lia drew near. Then I limped over to them to wrap them both in my arms. “We must go,” I forced myself to whisper, hearing the groans of the injured among the brush and shoving down a shiver of fear. Marcello had wanted us to stay here, knowing that we were relatively safe. But we had to go now. It would be our only opportunity to slip away, to reach the tomb portal, now just a mile distant. For once, no one was thinking about the Ladies Betarrini.

  I ran ahead of them, finding a deer path and following it as the sun set, sending neon rays of orange through the trees as if they were pointing our way home. I wanted to stand and argue, convince Mom and Lia that we belonged here, in Toscana, now. But ever since Mom had suggested we might be able to go back and try to save Dad…as much as I wanted to remain, I knew we had no choice.

  We had to try.

  I took one last look back to the forest, hoping I might see Marcello again. Wave. Give him some hint at least. “Come on,” Lia said. “I’ve got you covered.”

  I followed behind her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll show you at the tomb,” she said, bending beneath a branch.

  We trudged onward, tense with suspicion at every turn. We could hear the roar of battle on the wind, but it was difficult to discern whether it was coming from our north or our south. Perhaps it was both.

  At last, we reached the creek, little more than a trickle during the drought of autumn, and began our ascent of the hill that led to the tombs. With each step I took I became more aware of the war that raged inside of me. One side of me longed to fall among the rocks and cling there, to stay here, with Marcello, never to be pulled away. The other side of me could do nothing but push forward. Dad. Dad! Was it possible? Were we fools to even think it possible?

  Marcello will feel horrible when he discovers I am gone…will he believe I’m gone forever? Unable to convince my mother and sister to stay in this century? And what would transpire in our absence? Weeks, months. Battles for the castellos, Siena.

  “It’s bigger than you are, Gabriella,” Mom said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Do not try to think it all out right now. Only the next step.”

  “But Marcello,” I said, stepping up onto the next boulder. “What if something happens to him…”

  “Something will happen to him, whether you are here or not. Something is forever happening to all of us.”

  I nodded and looked down at the rock, then over to Castello Forelli, wanting one last look.

  A guard stared back at me. He wore the emblem of Firenze across his chest. Lia stepped beside me and followed my gaze. “Way to go, sis. Had to raise one more alarm, didn’t you?”

  “I know, right?” I said, shaking my head. We turned and scurried up the rest of the path as shouts reverberated across the valley and an alarm bell began to clang behind us.

  We reached the top of the hill and turned. Now Castello Paratore was in view, and with all the noise the boys were making at Castello Forelli, I knew they were on full alert, her parapets loaded with knights peering through the fading light to figure out what was going on. They spotted us, pointing, yelling.

  “C’mon,” Lia said, dragging me forward. Mom was ignoring it all, already a hundred paces ahead of us, her own mind clearly on one thing. Dad.

  We edged out of view from Castello Paratore and entered the small meadow with the tombs, domes sticking out of the heavy grass and twining vines of the forest. Mom ran to Tomb Two and turned to face us. We could hear the creak of Castello Paratore’s gates opening, then the distinct noise of knights in battle.

  I frowned. “I have to look,” I said to them. “I have to know what’s going on! Get ready, I’ll be there in a sec.” I ignored their cries of complaint and hobbled up the path and around the corner that would give me the clearest view of our enemy’s castle.

  They’d opened the gates to come after us. But they had failed to recognize Sienese forces in the woods, waiting for just such an opportunity. They battled at the wall, between the gates. “Go, boys, go,” I whispered. If they could capture Castello Paratore again, it would only be a matter of time before Castello Forelli was back in Sienese hands.

  But some men were climbing the path below me, heading up to our meadow. “Time to go,” I muttered, turning and rushing back to the tomb as fast as I could.

  Mom waited for me at the mouth of the tomb and followed me in.

  “I have it all set,” Lia said. She was barely visible in the tomb. “I’ve left a note for Marcello and Luca.”

  “You have? What does it say?”

  She hesitated. “It says, ‘Wait for us. We are coming back.’”

  “We are? You really want to do that? Both of you? To come back here?”

  “If we get your dad,” Mom said, slipping her hand over my shoulder. “And even if we don’t. If this is where your heart is, both your hearts, then I want to be here too.”

  I turned back toward Lia. “And you? I thought you wanted your life back. Your real life.”

  “This…” She paused to take a breath. “Somehow, it’s become my real life. I’ve caught your medieval bug. I want to be here.”

  “Medieval bug or a medieval hottie.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll come back and figure it out.” She poked me in the chest. “But next time, let’s go for a few less near-death
experiences, all right?”

  “All right,” I agreed, willing to say anything in that moment in exchange for what she was promising. “If only I could say good-bye…”

  “It’ll be minutes for us. Weeks or months for them,” she chastised me. But her use of us and them was not lost on me. Oh yeah, she was finally falling for Luca. As hard as I’d fallen for Marcello.

  We could hear voices outside the tomb. They were upon us. We had to leave.

  “Trust me, Gabs,” she said in a hushed voice, pulling me closer to the wall. “Marcello Forelli will be waiting for you.”

  We moved toward the handprints and reached up.

  “All the way home,” Lia whispered. “Then we’ll figure out our next step.”

  Mom grabbed hold of our shoulders.

  And then we were gone, cascading back to the future.

  CHAPTER 34

  We hit the end of the time tunnel, and this time, it felt like we’d hit a brick wall, running at full speed. We rammed forward and then fell back on the floor, on top of Mom, all three of us gasping and groaning.

  “Shh, shh,” Mom tried, remembering before we did the new danger at hand.

  Dr. Manero.

  How long had we been gone? Five, six minutes?

  She crawled forward, peered around for a moment and then backed into the tomb again and stood.

  “All right, so now we touch our handprints—just for a few seconds—and we’ll be back a year, maybe two, and we can find Dad,” Lia said.

  “A few seconds? Wouldn’t that take us back to, like, before we’re born?”

  “Let’s think about it. How long do you think the whole journey takes?” Mom said.

  I shook my head. “It’s hard to tell. We get into that warpy-stretchy place and it feels like I’m not breathing, like time is standing still, not whipping by a century-a-second.”

  “I think it’s about twenty seconds,” Mom said, eyes narrowed. She had her Science Voice on. All analytical, all of a sudden.

  It comforted me. Because I couldn’t figure it out. It was like a nightmare of a story problem. With life-and-death, love-or-loss kind of stakes.