Cascade (31 page)

We stared back at her, stunned. She was really ready to give it all up? Everything she’d worked so hard to obtain? Right when it was within reach?

Whoa, talk about a rift in the space/time continuum…

I looked over at Lia. “What about you?”

She looked back at me reluctantly. “I don’t know, Gabs. I just don’t know.”

I sighed and nodded. But a spark of hope glowed inside me. There was a definite
maybe
in her eyes. I’d talk about it more with her in the days to come. She could pursue her art here as well as she could at home, right? Maybe she was destined to be a world-class fresco artist, or the Michelangina that predated Michelangelo.

We rose and went to rinse our wooden bowls in a larger tub, then went to our tent to collect the few things we still had.

“I had one thought,” Mom said, laying an uncertain hand on the center pole.

“What?” I asked, wondering why she was acting so hesitant.

“Is it possible…”

“What, Mom?”

“What if we could get back…before…”

“Before?” Lia asked.

“Before your father died. What if we could go back, but not quite so far—”

“And save him,” I whispered.

“We wondered about it too,” Lia said, slowly, wringing her hands, puzzling over the options. “But if we stop at that point in time, do we even remember that he is about to die? Since, really, it wouldn’t have happened for us? We only know how this works from one end to the other. Our present time and here. If we change history, find Dad, warn him, then does Mom ever find the tumuli site?”

“We could write ourselves a note, everything pertinent,” Mom said. “In case that memory is erased.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Trying to pull off at a certain time is tricky. Even getting back here…I was off by months. It’s just so fast. And heading home—we might end up a hundred years early, not a couple hundred days.”

Mom nodded, her eyes shifting back and forth, trying to think it out.

“But let’s say it worked, somehow,” Lia said excitedly, still focused on the potential. “We get to Dad…but if we don’t get to the tumuli again, is history erased? Does Gabi remember Marcello? Or is that gone too?”

“Or do I remember that part because I lived it now, back here?” I rubbed my temples. It was enough to make my brain hurt.

“I don’t know,” Mom said, looking down, nudging her toe in the loose dirt. “Forgive me for even suggesting it. It’s probably impossible. A crazy idea.”

“No. It’s not,” I said. I went to her, and we hugged. “Getting Dad back?” I shook my head. “That’d be crazy-insane
good
.”

I looked over at Lia as she melted into Mom’s embrace too. “Stellar good,” she said.

Mom gave us both a squeeze and sighed. “We’ll think it through more together. All right?”

But as we left the tent, I had the sure feeling that this wasn’t something we
could
figure out. The best we could do would be Best Case and Worse Case Scenarios. Educated guesses.

Because that time tunnel made no sense, really. No sense at all.

CHAPTER 31

We were a couple miles into our journey, each step that took me farther from Marcello feeling terribly wrong, like I was tearing apart inside, bit by bit. I tried to concentrate on good thoughts. Like that my thigh and ribs felt better today. Every lurch of the horse no longer sent pain radiating through my body. And that I could even use my right leg a little to guide the horse.

We reached the crest of a hill. This part of the republic was quiet, untouched. No battle had ever been fought here or nearby. The only evidence of the broader trauma was that each village we passed was abandoned, her women and children fleeing until it was all over, her men on the front lines. It was eerie, in a way, like walking through ghost towns.

Luca pulled up and frowned. I followed his line of vision. Our scout had ridden ahead, just to make certain no surprise lay in wait. This time it seemed to take forever for the scout to return, but when he did, he was as sweaty as his horse, panting for breath.

“What is it?” Luca growled.

“Trap…Sir Marcello.”

“What?” Luca barked.

“Two contingents…closing in…from north and west side. Joining Paratore’s. Chasing down Sir Marcello’s.” His eyes flicked over us. “The knight I met had suffered grievous wounds. The Rossis have fled the city. Siena has suffered a breach to her western wall, Lord Rossi’s doing…”

Luca frowned. “We are aware of Lord Rossi’s treachery. But why come after Marcello now? What do they care about him when they have the chance to conquer Siena herself?”

The scout did not know.

My heart leaped into triple time. “They want him killed,” I mumbled, putting it together. I pictured the grandi in my mind, Lord Rossi, Lord Foraboschi. “If the Nine have been killed…They knew Fortino was as good as dead. They intend to murder any nobleman with the stature to take their place.”

Luca nodded, following my logic. “Siena shall surrender, mayhap never rally at all. We shall all fall under Fiorentini jurisdiction, as they wish.” Luca looked back to the scout. “How is that these troops in pursuit of Marcello slipped by our other lines of defense?”

The man dismounted at last, as did we, and accepted a drink from one of the other knights. “They came through Umbria, as the others did. They’re rested, Sir, and riding hard.”

Luca grimaced. Even I could figure out why such news was difficult. Our own men had been fighting for six days, existing on meager rations and poor sleeping conditions. And they were about to be surrounded by men in much finer form.

I looked at Lia. “What is the one thing Firenze would want more than Marcello’s head?”

“Those of the She-Wolves of Siena,” she returned. She’d seen it for herself in Firenze; the mad chase, the desire to capture us. We had to be at least one hundred percent more enticing than a lord turned out of his castle, no matter what his castle had meant all along.

Luca grimaced and looked up at the sky.

“There is a way to resolve this,” I said to Mom and Lia. I could feel Luca’s eyes on me. “We show ourselves. Bait them. Draw enough away that Marcello and the others have a fair chance in battle.”

It would pull some of the heat off Siena, give them a chance too…

“And then make our way home.”

“Home?” Luca sputtered. “The castello is hardly defensible, and there’s the small matter of enemy soldiers still occupying the…” His words trailed off as he understood the look on my face. “Ah.” He grimaced and glanced over to Lia, then back to me. “Home.”

“Gabriella, the armies of Firenze now hold the castellos on either side of
that
valley,” Mom said, shaking her head.
There’s No Way
, her eyes said.
Not yet.

I raised my hand and nodded. “It is a grave risk. It shall be a fierce fight. But I can do no other than this.” I looked her in the eye. “I cannot stand by and watch my man die. Not when I can do something about it.”

Mom’s lips clamped together. She knew what I was saying.
This is a death we can help stop. Wouldn’t you do the same thing for Dad? Isn’t it what you want to do, even now?

She nodded once. “I am with you, Gabriella. To the end, wherever it takes us.”

“As am I,” Lia said, repositioning her bow on her shoulder.

Luca shook his head. “I swore to Marcello that I’d keep you three safe.”

“Would you rather apologize later to his face…or to his gravestone?” I said.

Luca laughed under his breath and shook his head. “I guess we are in then too.” He eyed the men, one at a time. “We follow them, every step of the way. There is a hidden point of escape for them, between Castellos Paratore and Forelli. It will be our duty to see them there.”

“By my life,” said Pietro.

“And mine,” added Giovanni.

The others piled their hands on top, and I was last. I looked around the circle of men, brothers more than friends, handpicked by Marcello. Loyal, regardless of the cost. “To the end,” I said.

We rode hard to reach a place in which we could show ourselves and yet have half a chance of escape. At the back of the abandoned village were the remains of ancient generations, caves carved into the cliffs above. The sun was high in the sky when we paused by a well in a village and shared a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese. We drank deeply from the bucket, the water cold and sweet.

Giovanni arrived, having ridden ahead to scout the land. “About a half hour out,” he said. “They’re coming fast.”

“Rested,” Luca said casually. “We remember.”

“There are over four hundred in that first contingent, sir,” he pressed. “With the other two groups numbering over a thousand. But with fewer horses.”

“Fine odds, fine odds,” Luca said, cocking his head like this was the most perfect plan possible rather than a signature on our death warrants. “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “let us draw in the four hundred, and the rest are bound to follow.”

“Done,” Lia said, standing back. She’d used a white chalky rock to finish her quick sketch on the first building they would reach.

I came around and looked at it, as did the others. I giggled. She’d depicted two wolves standing on their hind legs, one with a sword, one with a bow and arrow. Between them was a flag of Siena. “All right,” I said. “Let us take up our positions.”

“No matter what happens,” Luca said, pointing at each of us, “everyone able is on their horses, two minutes after the men arrive. We’ll be counting it out, together. One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two…At one hundred twenty, you
move
. Understood?” He shook his head in warning. “We ride with or without you. Make certain you are
with
us.”

He drew the map in the sand at our feet one more time. “Everyone understands our plan? If we get separated, your only chance is to catch up with us, ahead. We toy with them here, for a bit. Get them properly riled, and then we run our horses to the north wood. There, we shall take the Santa Fiora Road to Gaiole, then on toward Castello Forelli, keeping to the side paths and off the main road to avoid Fiorentini troops. God willing, we will get the ladies properly hidden in the woods by nightfall.”

“God willing,” I muttered.

“Truth be told,” Giovanni said, “I preferred our last battle. Better to pretend to be shot by Lady Gabriella than to be really shot at by the dogs of Firenze.”

Luca and I shared a smile with him, remembering that night we had claimed Castello Paratore. Tonight, all I hoped for was survival. For all of us.

He erased the map in the sand, and we ran for our positions, climbing a narrow path up the cliff and settling into seven separate perches. Mom, Lia, and I were together at the center, closest to the horses, ground-tied just ten yards behind us.

The enemies on horses came then, shortly after we settled in. We could see the foot soldiers not a half mile in the distance. The first group paused at Lia’s picture, gesturing toward it and looking furiously about.

“Now,” I said. Casually, slowly, we stood, the three of us, taking on the same pose as the drawing. Mom held the flag of Siena atop her staff.

As it caught the wind, the first of them saw us. They pointed, shouted, and stared, as if they were seeing things. “’Tis a decoy!” echoed up a young nobleman’s voice. “Those are not the Ladies Betarrini! They are naught but villagers, sent here to distract us.” But then Lia and two of our men fired upon them, each taking out multiple men in rapid succession.

The enemy soldiers scattered, taking cover, shouting. Those on foot, hearing their alarm, were coming at a dead run now. The sight of their mass, stirring up dust on the autumn-dried road, made my heart kick into serious gear.

“Seven down, three hundred and ninety-three to go,” Luca said.

Lia aimed, shifted, and waited, watching one man peek out, time and time again. She let her arrow fly, anticipating his next peek at us, and it pierced his eye.

“Okay, that’s just going to make ’em mad,” I said.

“Three hundred and ninety-two,” she said to Luca, tossing her braid over her shoulder and taking aim again.

“Saints in heaven,” he said to me, rolling his eyes, “how much deeper in love can I yet fall?”

I smiled. “A good bit yet, I’d wager.” I glanced at Mom. “How many seconds do we have left?”

“Ninety-four, ninety-three,” she muttered, staring down at the men, now scattering, trying to make their way toward our cliff. Others were taking off on their horses, coming up and around either side, as we assumed they would.

“A bit faster than we anticipated,” I said to Luca, motioning to the horsemen with my chin.

“Yes. But it will still take them four more minutes to get up here,” he replied.

“Giving us a two-and-a-half-minute lead, eh? Generous.”

“You, m’lady, directed my plan. I believe the word was
bait.
”

I lifted a rock, aimed, and threw it at a man a hundred yards beneath me. It missed him when he dodged away at the last second, eyes wide with surprise. Then I threw a second at another, with similar results. “A bear can smell bait from a mile away. He does not need have it in his teeth.”

“Down, Gabi!” Mom said.

I ducked just as the first arrows came sailing toward us.

“Oh, no you
don’t,
” Lia muttered in English, rising again and shooting in one fluid motion. She took out an archer on horseback, and he fell from his saddle. Our horses stirred behind us, agitated by the sounds of those below them.