“Preparing another line of attack,” Marcello said with a grunt. “Their focus will be on the Sienese beyond the villa. See any scouts?”
“Nay,” Lia said, after a long moment of searching. “We could stay here until dark.”
Marcello shook his head. “’Tis only a matter of an hour or two before they’ll clearly see we’re not among those who remain to fight. They’ll make a second pass at the tunnel, and if they move a few stones…”
My eyes shifted from the door behind us to the trees ahead, guessing how long it would take us to cross the great expanse of knee-high autumn-brown prairie grass and at last reach the spare oaks. The sprawling trees would allow precious little cover. Beyond them was the deeper forest. That was where we had to go. In there, we could hide, at least.
I looked to Marcello. “We cannot outrun soldiers on horseback.”
“Nay. Move steadily, hunched over, and fall to the grass to catch your breath. Move carefully, so as not to attract attention.”
“Leave me here,” Luca grunted. “You should go with them, m’lord.”
Marcello ignored him. “Go, Evangelia, Gabriella. Go.”
We did as he told us, falling to the shelter of the long, swaying grasses, catching our breath, then steadily rising and scurrying quickly up the hill. I kept waiting for singing arrows to come arcing down on us, but none came. Halfway across the field, I dared to think, Can we actually make it? How can they possibly not see us?
I glanced over my shoulder, finding it impossible not to look after Marcello and Luca. According to plan, they were moving straight up the hill. At the crest was a ring of white tents, Firenze’s flag proudly flying from all twelve of them, and a tendril of a smoldering fire at its center. Seriously? Did they actually intend to enter it? He was not that crazy…I hoped.
But then I saw what was happening. Six soldiers were making their way down to them, hands on the hilts of their swords. Two more followed on horseback. Even among the noise of battle far below us, I could hear them barking at our guys.
Marcello and Luca were distracting them, running interference, keeping them from seeing us. Idiotic, wonderful heroes. “Hurry, Lia,” I said.
We ran the rest of the way, pausing on the far side of ancient twin oaks, their red leaves chattering away above us. Lia caught sight of the men then. “They’re pointing toward the battle,” she said. “Making up their story.”
“Let’s hope it’s a good one.”
“Pray no one recognizes them.”
“I will.”
The words settled between us. As far as I knew, Lia was as much a praying type of girl as I was. And that wasn’t much. But it seemed right, here. We were desperate. And desperate people prayed, right?
“Come on,” I said. “We need to get deeper, find those caves Marcello was talking about.” I ran forward, hoping our luck would hold and no one would spot us. From this angle, it’d be tough for the soldiers with Marcello and Luca to see us. But down below, at the front line…if they turned back toward camp, it wouldn’t be hard. Our long, wet hair hung on our backs. Perhaps they would mistake us for peasant women, in our current garb, displaced from our homes by soldiers. But more worrisome was the thought that every man on the field wanted to collect the price on our heads—that they would see we were no peasant women at all.
We took no more breaks. I could sense that Lia’s urgency matched mine. If we’d been spotted, we wanted to disappear as fast as possible, deep in the woods, where no one could find us. Find a defensible position, rest there. Then make our way to the caves.
Once in the comforting arms of the forest, we paused and caught our breath. I looked back and then did a double take. From this angle— “Lia, I know this place. You do too. We’ve been here before, uh…you know what I mean.”
She turned around, and her eyes widened. “We’re near the old river ruins,” she said.
“Right,” I said with a smile, trudging forward. “Where Mom and Dad brought us when we were little.” The site, in our time, was overrun with tourists, since Etruscan tombs lined the limestone cliff for miles. The River Necropolis, I remembered. Some had elaborate carvings, noblewomen sanded away by time to blobs that resembled mermaids. Lions, lounging on their sides. Elsewhere, there were fluted columns. Tombs, square and tidy, but with not nearly the decoration necessary to hold my parents’ attention for long. Besides, they had forever been looking for the undiscovered ruins, not those that were in the public domain.
Striding through the fallen leaves, I flashed back to that day with them. Laughing. Dad had played with us, hiding and making us find him, behind trees, inside the caves. He’d paid attention to us that rare day, calling us his “Etruscan Princesses.” I rubbed my arms, feeling the chill of the tunnel pool all over again, even though my gown was rapidly drying. I looked up, around.
“I remember too,” Lia said.
She waited until I reluctantly met her gaze. “It was one of the best days ever,” I said simply.
She nodded, grief edging her baby blues like I knew it edged my own eyes. “What if…Gabi, what if we could go back in time and pull off before the present? What if we could pull off, get a message to Dad? Even see him? Save him?”
I sighed. She was voicing thoughts I hadn’t dared to think through myself. I shook my head. “You’re talking about massive confusion. Some possible rift in the time continuum. If we save Dad, what other things will it change? If that farmer didn’t run him off the road, will he hit someone else? Will it just be another family mourning, instead of us?” I swallowed hard. “And if we save him, does all of this disappear? Maybe he would’ve convinced Mom to look elsewhere for the tumuli. Maybe they would not have discovered them at all. Which means—”
“No Luca,” she said lowly, pulling to a stop. “No Marcello. But Dad…Gabi, Dad would be alive.”
“Right.” I looked her in the eye. “I mean, maybe.” I trudged forward, suddenly aware that we’d been still for far too long. But my head swirled with thoughts of Dad, of saving him, of righting that horrible wrong. It sent my heart soaring. And yet the thought of never meeting Marcello, this all fading away like a brief dream…that made my heart sink. Even now, what was happening to him and Luca? Had they convinced the Fiorentini they were on their side? Was Luca being cared for by camp medics?
Lia paused suddenly and raised her hand. “Horses,” she mouthed.
Despite the thunder of hoofbeats, we remained as still as deer as the troops passed by us, probably a quarter mile distant. There had to be a hundred or more.
“If they turn their attention to finding us, we’re dead,” she said. “But I’m betting they don’t know how vast the necropolis is.” She looked away and ducked under a branch. “I bet these trees cover most of it still, and superstition keeps them out.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said, following behind her.
The wind blew, sending a cascade of leaves to the ground, and we both shivered. “The caves, Lia. Let’s get to the caves. And pray Marcello and Luca can find us.” We hurried forward. In the distance, the battle continued on, and the sun was growing low in the sky. Would they fight all night? I knew no man cared to fight by the light of a quarter moon. It was too easy to take out your own men.
“There,” she said after a few more minutes, nodding upward. Just barely visible above the crest of the trees was an old tomb carved out of the rock.
Narrow, disintegrating steps zigzagged downward beneath it, mostly hidden by the oaks that lined the cliff. We could see them clearly only as we drew nearer. “Think they’ll hold?” I asked.
“It’s worth a try,” she said. “At least from above, we’ll have a bit more sun for warmth, as well as a view to see what’s going on. Maybe we can spot the guys coming our way.”
“Or the enemy coming to get us.”
“Don’t be so neg
ative,” she said. She slipped her bow across her shoulder and climbed to the base of the stairs. Tentatively, she tried one and then the next. On the third, it crumbled, but not all the way.
“I’d hate it if one gave way up there,” I said, looking twenty feet above us.
“Positive thoughts, Gabs,” she hissed, continuing her trek. But I noticed she had a grip on a stair three above her toehold with each one. Just in case.
At the tree line, she paused and peeked outward. “It’s perfect,” she said, looking down at me. “Come.”
Yeah, I thought. Perfect for you. I wasn’t just a few inches taller than my sister; I also had a good twenty pounds on her. What she had crossed easily might give way under me.
“Gabs, come on.”
“All right.” I sighed and began to climb. Only one stair gave way in the first fifteen. With fifteen more to go, I glanced up and saw Lia’s wide, frightened eyes above me. She gestured with them to my lower right. She reminded me of a cartoon character, with large blue arrows pointing out her alarm.
Carefully, I turned my head. I was hidden, mostly, by the canopy of the tree. But in a slight gap among the trees, I could see the head of a horse. My eyes scanned forward, searching for another peephole.
There. The man was squatting, his fingers running through the leaves.
A tracker.
“Over here, m’lord. They came through here,” he called over his shoulder.
Two more came up behind the tracker, walking their horses. I caught sight of dark, black hair, and then he was gone. Lord Greco? Then a third man.
A gust of wind came up and a hundred leaves went with it. I felt as exposed as if I was watching my skirt unravel, thread by thread.
“This way?” Greco said below me, ahead of the tracker now, clearly identifiable now by his voice. “Be they witches, capable of disappearing into the cliff itself?”
I closed my eyes as they neared the base, wishing I were capable of sinking into the limestone behind me. Another few feet and they’d see the stairs, and atop them…me.
I forced my eyes open. I had to be ready. I dared to let go of the stair and pull a dagger from the back of my waistband. I knew that above me, Lia was already drawing an arrow across her bow. But for her to shoot, she’d have to expose herself.
Lord Rodolfo Greco’s mouth dropped open as he spied me there.
I had no choice; I scurried up the stairs and, in my rush, tore away two steps.
Lord Greco’s laughter was a low, melodic sound. Pleasant, almost, if I didn’t know that it came from a man who wanted to see us dead.
Lia showed herself then, swiftly shooting the man beside Lord Greco, who had stupidly edged forward. Lord Greco stepped back beneath the tree canopy, well aware of the lethal nature of Lia’s aim. I heard the sickening strike of her second arrow as I reached the top, my fingernails filling with dirt as I clawed my way up and over the edge.
Below me, a man gasped and belatedly cried out, like a baby just winding up for a good cry. A fourth man.
Lord Greco seemed to ignore his friends, he was so focused on us. “What will you do up there?” he called. “It is just as well. Perhaps I’ll leave you there until I’m certain you don’t have the plague that shielded you from me before.”
We remained silent, simply staring at each other, trying to figure out our options.
What options? We’re treed. Raccoons with a hound dog below us.
He waited a minute before calling out again. “Rest assured, you shall not escape that cave, ladies. At some point, you shall be mine.” He turned and said something to another man.
He was sending for help. Eventually, they’d have enough troops and resources to bring ladders. Or come from above and rappel down on ropes. I eyed Lia’s quiver. Twenty-two arrows left.
“We have to get out of here,” I said.
She nodded, clearly already thinking the same thing. We had minutes, at most.
“Ready?” I asked.
CHAPTER 15
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she returned.
I edged to the stairs. “Lord Greco, we surrender,” I said. I took a step and then another, expecting a dagger or arrow to come winging my way. Or were we worth more alive than dead? Marcello’s warning rang through my head like an alarm bell—Fight. To the death, if you must.
“Do you show any symptoms of plague?” he called, still hiding beneath the branches of the trees.
“None, as yet.”
Lia was behind me, already on the stairs.
“Throw down your weapons!” he demanded. “At once.”
“But—”
“Disarm!” he demanded, edging into view, an arrow across his bow. He was pointing it at Lia.
I didn’t think. From fifteen steps up, I leaped to the trees, knowing it would distract him. I heard Lia’s arrow race past me just before I hit the branches. Three small limbs cushioned the brunt of my fall, thankfully, but then gave way. A large one beneath them slowed my descent. I folded around it, swung with my momentum and fell feetfirst now. I reached out, grasping for a branch, anything, feeling the tug of my hair as a clump pulled out of my scalp, then deep scratches at my leg, face, arm.
At the very last, my fingers found a branch, and I held tight. I was hanging there, face to face with Lord Greco five feet away, his arrow pointing in my direction. “A gift from the heavens,” he said with a low laugh, “my prize to claim.” He pulled back on the bowstring and adjusted his aim.
I dropped from the branch, turning as I fell, and rolled away through the leaves. His arrow hit the ground, inches behind my leg—he was obviously trying to wing me—then another near my shoulder. But then I had the trunk of the tree to shield me.
I grabbed one of the daggers from my waistband, so glad they’d stayed put, and aimed at him. Lia was down the stairs now, taking her shot. It narrowly missed him.
He was good. His intuition uncanny. I let out a growl of frustration. He should’ve been dead five times over, facing Lia.
I threw the dagger, and it stuck in the tree, not three inches from his head.
I groaned. “Come on, Lia!” I cried, realizing, too late, that I spoke in English.
She came tearing through the wood, still uphill from me, and I turned and ran with her. We were decent runners, going for jogs most mornings from Mom’s archaeological site. Hopefully Lord Fancypants always has his running done for him, I thought. He had the advantage of running straight after us. We were weaving, conscious that he might still try to wing us with his own arrow. And, oh yeah, we had long, damp skirts on. Totally unfair.
But we have the advantage of sheer terror, I thought, a grim smile spreading across my face as I panted.
Lia shot me a look, wondering how on earth I could be smiling.
Hey, I’m thinking positively, I thought back at her.
She just looked confused, for some reason. Our sister telepathy had never been particularly good.
We ran over a mile, losing sight of Lord Greco somewhere afterward. He must have dropped back for reinforcements.
At last she pulled me to a stop, leaning down on her knees, panting. We could hear them. Horses.
“They don’t have dogs,” I said, gasping for breath. “At least there’s that.”
“Yeah, but a hundred men, combing these hills for us?” she said. “It’ll still do the trick.”
The sun was casting the last of its warm orange light on the cliffs above us. I stared at them, then down below, trying to get a sense of where we were. “Aren’t those passageways around here? The ones the Etruscans cut into the cliff?”
“Yes!” she said, her eyes widening in excitement.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand and resuming our run.
Fifty yards farther, we came across the tomb that
we remembered from our childhood visit. Massive fluted columns. Statues, not quite as ravaged by time as I remembered, their features more distinct. We could hear the horses churning down the road below us. They passed us, obviously aiming to cut us off, circle around, close in on all sides.
At last, we came across it. Up top, we could see the break in the stone. But down below, it was totally choked by brush.
“Well, hello there,” I said, “you big, beautiful overgrown passageway.” I looked over to Lia. “Let’s confuse ’em a little.”
She knew what I meant. We ran forward, as if we were still on our path, making sure we disturbed lots of leaves. Then, thirty yards ahead, we carefully climbed atop the stones of the tombs and leap-frogged back to the passageway. I pressed inward, ignoring the branches scratching my cheeks, pulling at my hair. Lia made her own way in from the edge.
“Don’t leave any footprints,” I said.
“Or disturb the leaves,” she returned.
We turned, periodically, to pat branches back into place, or cover our trail with rocks.
We were through the dense foliage, between the moss-covered, curving banks of the ancient walls, when we heard them. It was dark in the twenty-foot tall chasm, giving us hope. If they were forced to search via torchlight, it might be even harder to find trace of us. They’d go beyond, thinking that we were faster than they thought, confident that we were on the front side of the cliff, perhaps hidden away in another cave.
“This is good,” I said to Lia, taking her hand. “Really good.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Except for one thing.”
“What?” I asked as we hurried forward, careful to not kick a stone that might send a telltale alarm back to the Creep-Fest back yonder.
“We’re going deeper.” She gestured ahead.
She didn’t mean deeper into the passageway. We both knew it would emerge up top, on the ancient site of an Etruscan city.
She meant deeper into Firenze’s territory.
“We’re just taking the scenic route,” I said to her lightly. But I was certain she heard my voice break oddly. I was having a hard time catching my breath, my heart was pounding so hard.
The River of Time Series Page 44
