The Loved and the Lost Read online

  “Stay low,” Lincoln whispered.

  “No need,” Hansum said. “Sideways, let’s go out of phase.” As he felt himself becoming invisible to the world around him, Lincoln and the surrounding area took on a slightly muted tone. He watched Lincoln turn to Medeea.

  “Make me better. I need to help my friend.”

  “Feltrino,” Hansum heard his younger self calling again. “Please, just leave Guilietta and the looker and we’ll back off. Feltrino, please.”

  Hansum remembered how scared he was, his greatest fear being for the safety of Guilietta. Back then he had no plan but to stay safe and wait for an opportunity. At least the older Hansum had a plan, one that dozens of elders and A.I.s from the 24th-century had helped with. But that had already gone wrong. Hansum heard Feltrino start to shout the familiar exchange again, and he turned and started running toward the sound. When running out of phase, he didn’t have to worry about running around objects, like trees and boulders. He ran right through them.

  “You are by yourself, apprentice. Ha!” Hansum heard Feltrino call as he ran. Hansum also heard the sound of bushes snapping. That was Feltrino’s horse starting to move from its hiding place. Hansum sprint-ed faster, running through several more trees and rock outcroppings. “I’m coming to kill you,” Feltrino’s voice rang through the forest. “Did you hear me, apprentice? You’re going to die!”

  Suddenly, in the distance Hansum could see the back end of a horse galloping away from him. The rider was Feltrino. Hansum slowed down, watching him recede. In a moment, one of Podesta Mastino della Scalla’s men, the knight da Silva, would crash out of the forest above Feltrino and begin a fight to the death with him.

  Hansum was still too early and couldn’t interfere at this point. The A.I.s calculations were that if they saved da Silva, it could easily change history too much. Research showed how da Silva was an older brother who would inherit his father’s small estate. When he died, his younger brother inherited and then had the resources to formulate some key inventions having to do with the olive oil business. The younger da Silva would also become a very good businessman, an international merchant, and a key player in helping make Italy a world leader in the lu-crative olive oil trade. If they saved the older da Silva, the consequences of leaving the younger brother in poverty couldn’t be predicted.

  Hansum heard the soft nickering of another horse somewhere above him.

  “Guilietta,” Hansum said, and off he continued in that direction, again running through tree and rock alike. In a minute, there she was, sitting atop the large wagon horse, her arms tied to the old saddle and a gag in her mouth. Hansum walked very close to Guilietta, standing right by the horse and looking up. Guilietta had a concerned look on her face. She was trying to hear what was going on beyond her vision. Then she looked down at her bonds and started struggling to loosen them, but she was soon out of breath because of the gag. She stopped and sat there with a look of exhaustion and panic in her eyes. It brought Hansum’s heart into his throat and he felt his hand going up to her restraints.

  “Keep to plan, Master Hansum,” Sideways warned.

  Hansum paused. “I will,” but he allowed his hand to move to Guilietta’s cheek. As the tips of his fingers passed through her form like an apparition, she shivered.

  Then came the huge, though expected, crashing sound. It was da Silva descending upon Feltrino, the horses colliding, armor banging, swords ringing. The horses screamed and Feltrino cursed. The cacoph-ony spooked Guilietta’s horse and it pulled back hard against its tether. The beast stumbled, almost unseating Guilietta. She struggled to stay on and Hansum reflexively reached to steady her, but his hands were insubstantial and disappeared inside the horse.

  “Master Hansum,” Sideways urged. “You must go check on this fight, to make sure there are no time anomalies.” Hansum didn’t move, but continued watching Guilietta struggle in her saddle till she was secure. “Now!” the A.I. commanded and Hansum took off without further hesitation.

  By the time Hansum got to the fight, the two combatants were on foot and battling with swords. Feltrino’s horse was about hundred feet away, calmly eating foliage. Da Silva’s poor animal was down on its front legs, screaming in agony and with blood pumping from its chest. As before, even the armor da Silva wore was no protection against the far superior swordsman. Feltrino calmly defended himself and probed his opponent, patiently waiting for the right time. Because of his recent sword training, the older Hansum now appreciated that, in real sword-play, your opponent only had to make one mistake.

  Then Feltrino noticed something and took a step backwards, disengaging from da Silva for a moment. Hansum turned to look where Feltrino was looking and saw . . . himself, his younger self, looking down from about a hundred paces up the hill.

  Feltrino resumed his fight with da Silva, now going at him with earnest. Hansum had watched this sequence many times, often with Marcon. The instructor marveled at Feltrino’s skill, although they always stopped the replay when Feltrino was delivering the coup de grace. But here he was watching the actual thing again. Feltrino reengaged da Silva and, with a few thrusts, parries, feints, moves to his right, and then left, he finally forced the della Scalla soldier to open himself up. Hansum was watching for it this time, how Feltrino quickly jabbed his sword, not at a vital area, but just between some leg armor, hobbling the man. He saw that, even though he quickly withdrew his sword, he twisted his wrist so the sword point would rip the muscle and tendon more. Da Silva tried to recover, but his knee buckled slightly, slowing him down a fraction. That’s when Feltrino whirled his sword around, now two-handed, on the back of da Silva’s neck. Even though he wore armor there, the power of the blow, along with the man’s weakened knee, caused him to fall onto his face, a position from which he never recovered.

  Hansum looked away as Feltrino drove his sword point between the helmet and back plate, looking up to see his younger self’s reaction. All he saw was a frozen face, naïve and bewildered.

  “You’re next, apprentice,” Feltrino shouted as he withdrew the sword from the dead man. The older Hansum could see his younger self sitting stoically upon his horse. At this time Pan, his trusted A.I. advisor, was shouting to turn and ride away, to force Feltrino to follow him till they ran into the Podesta’s men.

  “So, you are a coward, apprentice,” Feltrino laughed. He picked up da Silva’s sword and held it out to the younger Hansum, doing a slow pirouette to taunt him. Pan would be screaming at the younger Hansum now, ordering him to turn and run. Finally, he watched as his younger counterpart pulled on the large horse’s reins, wheeled around, and galloped away.

  Now Hansum got to watch Feltrino’s reaction. He looked like he wanted to give chase, but the Gonzaga prince paused, obviously thinking. Then he shook his head slowly, buried da Silva’s sword point-first into the ground and trotted back to his horse, not even looking at his latest victim.

  Hansum was going to follow Feltrino and see how he treated Guilietta, but his communications mode turned on. It was Lincoln.

  “Medeea’s got me up and moving, old buddy,” Lincoln said.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Still pretty shaky, but no reason to abort yet. Any anomalies?”

  “Not that I can see. Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll move to the setup point.” Hansum turned and began running back toward Lincoln. He heard Feltrino and Guilietta’s voices, and had to check the impulse to go see what was happening.

  “Ahem,” came Sideways’s voice. “Are you forgetting something?”

  “What?” Hansum asked.

  “You’ve got me. You don’t have to run.”

  “Right. Site transport,” Hansum acknowledged. As wearer of the A.I. cloak now, Hansum could instantly move anywhere on the planet. “Take me to Lincoln.”

  “That’s my job,” and before he could blink, Hansum’s surroundings changed. Lincoln was standing before him, leaning against a large tree.

  “Oh good,” Linc
oln said. “At least I won’t have to limp over to the setup spot.”

  “But how about after that?”

  Lincoln looked to his side, “Medeea says I’ll be able to move well enough in about an hour. Those nano bits are amazing. I can feel my leg and back improving by the second.”

  “Nothing’s too good for my babes,” Medeea said. Lincoln winked at her, but then winced.

  “This is serious,” Hansum interjected. “Will you be able to do your job?”

  Lincoln grabbed Hansum’s arm and pulled himself up. “No probs. Let’s go!”

  “Good. We have less than two minutes. We’re in phase for the next bit,” Hansum said and the two boys touched their temples. “Sideways. Now!”

  In another blink they were in a different part of the forest, a well-trodden path on a downhill slope. The trees were much sparser, so it would be impossible for anyone approaching to miss them.

  Hansum looked up the path. “I hear the horse. Get ready.” Hansum spread his feet and put his hands on his hips. He motioned for Lincoln to stand off the path. “Just in case,” he said.

  The horse appeared suddenly, large and moving quickly towards them. The rider had a sword drawn and at the ready, his knees dug deep in his mount’s sides. Hansum could see the other’s eyes go wide with surprise as he recognized him. Hansum put up his arms, both to show he wanted him to stop and that he wasn’t armed. The big horse was reined in hard and came sliding to a halt just in front of the two teens.

  “What the . . .” the rider exclaimed.

  “We’ve got to talk,” Hansum said.

  “Hey, pal,” Lincoln said. “Just like I remember ya.”

  The rider didn’t say anything, but the horse was acting very nervous. Then Sideways’s face formed on Hansum’s tunic.

  “Greetings,” he said.

  “Where . . . when are you from?” the rider asked.

  Just then, a meter high A.I. satyr appeared on the back of the horse’s neck. It’s hairy, hard face stared at the older Hansum on the ground, and then back to the rider on the horse.

  “Master Hansum,” Pan said to the rider. “There’s another one of you.” And then he looked back at the twin on the ground. “You’re older.”

  “Hello Pan,” Hansum said, holding back the emotions of meeting a friend he had previously seen killed. He could not in any way let this information get out, but Pan had an uncanny way of reading body language. “Please, both of you, don’t ask too much. I’m restricted on what I can divulge.”

  “What are you, about a year older?” Pan asked, peering at him sharply. Hansum gave a small nod. Then Pan stared at Lincoln. “The same with you, young Master? Though now not as young?”

  “Good to see you too, pally,” Lincoln grinned. He looked at the Hansum on the horse. “He doesn’t seem to be adjusting as fast as we hoped.”

  “Cut me . . . cut him some slack,” the older Hansum ordered. “I was hyper-focused on catching up with Feltrino at the time.”

  “Cut the crap,” the younger Hansum interjected. “Pan, who the hell are these guys?”

  “Exactly who they look like, Master Hansum. You and Master Lincoln. From about a year in the future.”

  “No way. This can’t . . .”

  The older Hansum stepped forward and grabbed the horse’s bit, steadying the nervous beast.

  “Hansum,” he said, looking at his younger self calmly. “Please get down. I’ll explain everything.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “Come down. Please.”

  “No!” and he pulled the reins, making the horse back up. The older Hansum dug in his heels.

  “I guess you forgot what a History Camp hard case you were,” Lincoln laughed.

  At the mention of History Camp, the younger Hansum relaxed.

  “You’re really from the future?”

  “We’re here to help,” older Hansum said. “Please, get down and you’ll know everything quickly enough.”

  “But Guilietta . . .”

  “Trust me,” Hansum said. The younger Hansum looked at Pan, who nodded, and the youth slid off the horse, coming face to face with himself. As the older Hansum put his second hand on the other’s shoulder, the younger one noticed the scarring around the thumb. “It’s a long story.”

  “Start explaining,” young Hansum said. “All of it. Quickly.”

  “Okay then,” Hansum began. “He looked down at his chest, where Sideways’s face stood out, smiling.

  “It’s like this . . .” the older Hansum began, and a spark flew off his sleeve and into the young man’s back. Young Hansum slid to the ground, unconscious.

  “So, that’s the plan,” the more mature Hansum said to the A.I. cen-taur. Pan’s holographic image was standing by his unconscious younger master, who was sitting propped up against a tree while Lincoln secured his hands around the back of the trunk. “If all goes well, Lincoln should be able to untie him by the middle of the night.”

  “I see,” Pan said. He calmly watched the youth-turned-into-a-man walk over and retrieve da Silva’s fallen sword. “So, this plan of yours. You’re willing to make the sacrifice?”

  “You know the answer without asking,” Hansum said as he hefted the sword and slashed it through the air a few times. Satisfied, he slid the blade into his belt and put a foot into the saddle stirrup, preparing to mount. As he did, Pan jumped and grabbed Hansum’s shoulder, hanging midway between Hansum’s and Sideways’s faces.

  “Answer me this, older Master Hansum. What’s he doing here?” he said nodding toward Sideways. “This is Arimus’s guy. Why is he helping you? Why not me?”

  Hansum paused, staring at Pan for a second.

  “You’re busy with Shamira. And Arimus . . . he couldn’t come. I can’t say more than that.” Hansum pulled himself up onto the horse. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Sideways is going to help me and you’re going to stay here with Lincoln.”

  “But if you’re from the future, that means this didn’t go . . .”

  “Don’t ask, Pan,” Hansum said, pulling on the reins to turn the horse around.

  “Ah, he’s ready,” Sideways announced.

  “Who’s ready?” Hansum asked.

  “Reach into my cloak. Something’s just been sent for you.”

  Hansum reached down the neck of his shirt and was surprised when his hand grasped something solid. He pulled it out slowly. It was a sword identical to da Silva’s.

  “What the . . .”

  “It’s a gift from the Association of A.I.s.” Sideways said. “Release your fingers so it will drop,” Hansum let go of the sword, but it didn’t fall to the ground. It just hung in the air. “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Pedang,” Sideways continued. “He’s less than an hour old, hatched especially for this mission.” An image of a baby’s face appeared on the wide end of the blade. It was like a reflection in a tarnished mirror.

  “An A.I. sword!” Lincoln said, quite impressed.

  “And isn’t he cute,” Pan added. “Happy birthday, little fellow.”

  “Thank you, Elder Pan,” Pedang said in the squeaky voice of a toddler. “Hello, Journeyman Lincoln. Journeyman Hansum. I am at your service,” he said, tipping his blade. “I am here to supplement your improved fighting skills.”

  “Zippy,” Lincoln said. “Can you fight by yourself?”

  “Yes, I can fight by myself or enhance a human’s abilities.” With that he whizzed through the air, slashing and thrusting.

  “Okay, enough. We’ve got to get moving,” Hansum said. “Welcome aboard, Pedang.” He tossed da Silva’s blade into the bushes and snapped his fingers. Pedang flew into Hansum’s grip and was slid into place in his new master’s belt.

  Just then the younger Hansum woke up with a start and began shouting.

  “What are you doing? Let me go! Pan, you traitor!” He pulled against his bonds, using every curse he knew.

  “Here, take this,” the older Hansum said, pulling off his time phase protection necklace. H
e tossed it to Lincoln. “Get that on him and make sure he understands why he’s not supposed to remove it. I’ll signal when to let him go.” He started to wheel his horse back downhill.

  “Hansum,” Lincoln said.

  “Yeah?” the older one answered.

  “Goodbye, pal. It’s been an honor.”

  Without another word or nod, Hansum kicked the horse with his heels and took off. Still hearing his younger self letting loose with a string of curses, he looked back briefly to see Lincoln fighting to put the necklace on the other youth.

  “Come back, come back, you bastard,” the tied-up Hansum shouted. “I’ve got to save Guilietta. Stop! Please.”

  “It’s all right, Hansum,” Lincoln pleaded. “That’s what he’s here to do.”

  The bound Hansum let himself fall to his side, facing away from Lincoln. “Leave me alone!” and then he struggled some more.

  Lincoln looked at him with worried eyes and then over at Pan, who was staring at him curiously.

  “You two sure have matured,” Pan said.

  “We couldn’t have done it without you, buddy,” Lincoln replied.

  Chapter 7

  The big horse thundered down the hill, carrying Hansum toward the Po River. They had been moving hard and fast for twenty minutes and the trees were thinning out, giving glimpses of the river below. That’s when Sideways looked up at Hansum and shouted.

  “Your younger self certainly was angry.”

  “What do you expect?” Hansum yelled back, continuing to urge the horse on. “He meets us and the first thing we do is lie to him and knock him out. Hopefully Lincoln and Pan can make him see reason, and if we’re successful he’ll appreciate . . .”

  Hansum pulled back hard on the reins and came to a halt. There were Feltrino and Guilietta, stopped by the shoreline. Feltrino was desperately looking back and forth, like he was trying to recognize something. As before, the river was wide, too deep for a horse to wade across, and too fast for them to swim.

  “I’ll shout what I did the first time, to make sure he reacts the same,” Hansum said. He stood up on his stirrups and called out, “Feltrino! Please don’t take Guilietta into the water! It’s too dangerous if she’s tied up!”