Free Waterfall by Lisa Tawn Bergren

hoofbeats approaching, the thrum of two bowstrings, arrows launched. The cry of one man, the guttural groan of another.
    One of the men near me said, “Now it’s at least even.”
    “Do you have an extra sword?” I said.
    He gaped at me. “Nay, m’lady. Only my own.”
    “Do you?” I cried, rushing toward the other, hearing the clash of swords, the roaring grunts of men in heated battle.
    The thinner, younger man studied me for a moment, then, spying a couple men edge closer, turned to his saddle and pulled a spare sword from its sheath. He handed it to me absently, staring beyond me, to the road. I took hold of it and groaned at its weight.
    Not that Soldier Boy noticed. He shared a low word with his companion, and they took up their positions on either side of the narrow road.
    “M’lady,” hissed the other one. “Get back! Back past those boulders. We’ll protect you.”
    I turned and hurried over to the rocks, playing with the broadsword in my hands, shifting it in an idle figure eight.
    My father had trained me to fence. But this thing, this crude piece of forged steel, weighed a ton. It was at least thirty pounds heavier than any blade I’d ever carried before. This was why they were all so dang strong-they worked out every day with these.

    I was used to the light, springy steel, the hospital whites of proper fencing uniforms. Blades tipped in baubles that kept them from drawing blood.
    What was coming toward us was anything but that.
    I raised the sword before me and focused on the road beyond it, catching sight of the first two Paratore soldiers. They were chasing after Marcello and Luca, with two other soldiers in crimson behind them.
    Whether I liked my weapon or not, I was glad to have it. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and settled my slippered feet in the dirt at an angle, my sword set like a baseball bat, high, as I waved it slightly in a circle, waiting for just the right ball. All sound seemed to cease as the surging horses raced toward us like animals in a silent horror film.
    But curiously, I felt no fear. Only an eagerness to see it done. If I died here, would I awaken in my own time? Or would I be dead, regardless of the year?
    In slow motion the men before me took the first man down. But the second escaped between them, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of a woman, then narrowing upon me like a hunter with his prey suddenly in view.
    He was coming for me.
    Stand your ground, I told myself. Gabi, you stand your ground!

     

I studied his approach, his speed, bracing myself for the impact, thinking through how I might parry his strike.
    And that was when someone tackled me from the side.
    It so surprised me that when I hit the ground, him atop me, it knocked the wind out of me.
    A moment later a horse thundered past. Out of the corner of my eye, I had seen a man-Marcello?—deflect a swooping sword aimed right at where I had once stood.
    I wanted to rise, to turn, to do anything, but all I could do was focus on making my body take a breath. Contract, lungs! Fill. I tried not to panic, but I was losing the fight. Tears streamed from my eyes.
    I heard the sounds of battle, not five feet from me, and I rolled over to see. Something about that action allowed me my first breath, and I rapidly took several. Marcello was fighting a man-the man I’d seen yesterday at the tombs. It had to be the Paratore lord. Marcello’s counterpart. Had Marcello taken me out just so he could fight the man himself? Of all the stupid, pig-headed-

    Marcello glanced back at me, alarm again in his eyes. But he wasn’t staring at the man he battled, but at something down the path. “M’lady, take cover!”
    Cover? Cover! I’d show him…. I rose, half-crouched, and took another breath, trying to steady my suddenly shaking hands. A huge man on a massive horse was thundering toward me, a sneer on his lips, his eyes on me.
    There was no way I could take on Goliath. I mean, a girl’s gotta know her limits.