Just as Zorro turned his horse around, Pedroza realized what he was going to try. He was awed by the magnificently reckless attempt, but even so, he roared out to his men, "Fire! Shoot him! Shoot! Shoot him now!" Though he knew that he was too far away, he fired his own pistol. All of the soldiers fired.
Zorro hissed as they flew through the air. Something hot was stinging the calf of his leg, but his mind could not register what it was. He concentrated on remaining in the saddle as Tornado landed right on the edge of the far side of the fissure, stumbling badly, almost going to his knees. Zorro lost his left stirrup and slewed over far to the right, but managed somehow to cling to the saddle horn, trying desperately not to fall to the ground. With a great effort, the valiant stallion righted himself and regained his footing. The going was treacherous, with loose stones and gravel, but the black found a way to keep moving away from the edge of the fissure. With his arms straining and threatening to buckle, Zorro pulled himself back up, but he remained doubled over the back of his horse, clinging to the stallion’s mane to maintain his seat in the saddle.
The two soldiers which had been following Chato had managed to get free at last and they ran to the edge of the fissure and fired their pistols after the fleeing outlaw. When he did not stop, they lowered their weapons in defeat. Pedroza had ridden his horse to the edge of the outcropping where he had dismounted, scrambling up to run across its surface to the edge of the fissure. His weapon was empty and he cursed that he did not have a rifle. From here, he could not have missed. He could see that the bandido was clearly in trouble, for he had nearly fallen from his horse, but he had, by some miracle, regained his balance and ridden off. However, Pedroza could see that something was wrong with the outlaw, for he seemed to be doubled over in pain. Had one of the soldier’s bullets found its mark? Again, Pedroza cursed as he looked down at the seemingly bottomless fissure at his feet. He would never dare make such a leap as the outlaw had tried. Almost, he could not credit that Zorro had made such a leap, except that he had seen it for himself. Pedroza kicked a small stone and sent it tumbling into the darkness. There was no sound for a long time, and then a tiny noise echoed back as the stone found the bottom of the fissure. Pedroza swallowed.
Knowing that he could not follow the outlaw, who had by now disappeared from sight, Pedroza motioned to his men to follow and he stalked back to his horse. He could only hope that Zorro had been mortally wounded by one of his soldier’s bullets and that he would die in this forsaken wilderness. His body might never be found, but at least Pedroza would be rid of the man and his infernal interference. Chato’s horse had been led away and one of the other soldiers had placed his coat over Chato’s lifeless body. They all waited to hear his orders.
"Ayala and Sanchez, you will bury him over there," Pedroza said, pointing a short distance down the trail.
"But, Commandanté," said one of the other soldiers. "Shouldn’t we take him back to the pueblo? Get a priest to say some words over him?"
"I said bury him!" Pedroza barked out. "Do not question my orders! Do I make myself clear?"
The soldier saluted and said, "Sí, mí commandanté!" Ayala and Sanchez went to pick up the body and carried it down the trail.
Pedroza watched for a few moments. Chato had been with him for a number of years, but Pedroza cared nothing for the man. He was a cheat and a cutthroat. He had followed Pedroza’s orders only because he was a soldier and knew no other life. He was cut from the same cloth as Pedroza, and the commandanté knew that a priest would be wasted on the man. Clenching his jaws, Pedroza went to his horse and mounted as did the rest of the soldiers. Single file, they began their descent down the mountain. One by one, they passed the soldiers as they built a stone cairn for Chato’s remains. Some crossed themselves as they passed, but all remained silent.
*******************************
Tornado picked his way carefully through the rocks and fractured boulders. His sensitive ears swivelled back and forth as they picked up the soft groans coming from his master, who was leaning forward, his arms encircling the stallion’s neck. As though understanding his master’s needs, the stallion seemed to do his best not to jar his passenger unnecessarily. There was no enemy to chase them now, but it seemed best to keep moving. The reins hung loosely and Tornado had his freedom; he could choose where they went. Coming to a small rise, Tornado stopped and raised his head, nostrils flaring, testing the night breezes. There were many odors, but there was only one he was seeking now. Then he had it. He raised his nose and tested the air again. Yes, that was it. Purposefully, Tornado set off in a new direction.
It took another hour, but Tornado found what he was seeking. The small stream trickled and burbled among the rocks, forming wide but shallow pools here and there. The stallion made his way carefully to the edge of one such pool, which was several feet across and a few inches deep, and lowered his head to drink.
With Tornado’s head down, there was nothing for Zorro to hold on to and he slid silently from the stallion’s back, landing on his side in the water with a small splash. His hat slipped from his head to float silently beside him. A moan escaped his lips and he rolled over onto his back. The cool water penetrated his thoughts a tiny fraction. He recognized dimly that the water felt good running around his hot and parched body. Only a few inches deep, the water was nevertheless a cool and soothing presence. Gathering his strength, Zorro managed to roll over on his side again, and using one gloved hand, he cupped the water and drank. With Tornado standing near him, they both drank their fill. Then, exhausted, Zorro rolled onto his back once more. Words could not describe just how bad he felt. He closed his eyes as he lost consciousness.
Zorro’s hat floated away quietly down the stream.
Tornado stepped closer to his master and nosed him in the chest, uncertain as to what to do next. Seeing no response, Tornado nosed Zorro’s neck and face. Still there was no reaction. The stallion raised his head and looked around, pricking his ears forward, then backward, to listen. All was quiet. Only the soft night wind playing around the crags of the mountain and the burble of the little stream could be heard. Dropping his nose again, Tornado inhaled deeply near Zorro’s face and exhaled sharply.
The blast of hot air in his face roused Zorro. Barely able to open his eyes, Zorro was nevertheless able to raise one hand to touch Tornado’s nose. "Home," he rasped out weakly. "Home, Tornado. Bring Bernardo." Then his hand fell back into the stream with a splash and he lost consciousness again.
Tornado raised his head and peered into the darkness. Home. He knew where home was. He would go there. His master’s silent friend would be there with good things for him to eat. Still, he was reluctant to leave his master lying here in the stream. Tossing his head, he tried to decide what to do. His master had told him to go home. He had been trained to follow his master’s commands. Splashing as he crossed the stream, Tornado turned toward home.
************************************
Bernardo had come down to the cave for the fourth time this night to look for Zorro’s return. He sighed. Still no sign of his young master. He was long overdue and Bernardo’s eyes mirrored the worries he could not utter. It was early morning, just before the dawn, and he could hear the sounds of the birds outside the cave as they sang for the new morning. Their songs could not lift his spirits as they usually did. Nothing could do that until he knew Zorro was safe. Bernardo had felt that something had not been right with Diego for the last day or so. Diego had just not seemed like himself. The young don had been almost as silent as Bernardo, not wishing to talk much with anyone, just sitting in the tavern alone, nursing a glass of wine as he listened to the new commandanté talk with the other soldiers about their exploits and how that they were going to catch Zorro and hang him in the plaza for all to see.
What military mind had decided that Sergeant Garcia and his men were better suited to guard the ships coming and going from San Pedro than to remain in Los Angeles was unknown to Bernardo, but he decided that he did not like that person in the least. Not when that same military mind had assigned Capitán Pedroza to the cuartel in Los Angeles. In Bernardo’s opinion, Pedroza was a nasty, ill-tempered man and his men were reflections of him. Many were the times that Zorro had been called upon to stop their excesses. Whereas a man such as Monastario had been conniving to gain wealth and power in the district when he had been commandanté, Pedroza had no such ambitions. He was a career soldier and took his pleasure where he found it. That Zorro interfered with his pleasure seeking angered him all the more.
And now Zorro was late in coming home from his latest foray into the pueblo and Bernardo was very worried. Sighing again, Bernardo turned to go back up the stairs to report to Don Alejandro who was going to be just as worried when he found out. He stopped when he heard the sound of a horse coming into the cave. Relieved, he turned around.
His heart stopped when he realized that Tornado was alone. Quickly, he ran over to the stallion and then ran to the entrance of the cave to look out. Zorro had to be here somewhere. But he was nowhere to be seen. Running back to the stallion, Bernardo began to try and ask questions and then realized that like him, the horse could not speak. He looked at the saddle then, noticing the black cape slung across the saddle horn. He took the silken, black fabric in his hands and felt a chill go through him. He looked further, moving the fabric out of the way as he examined the saddle closely. Zorro’s rifle was gone. Then to his utter dismay, found a small tracing of blood on the left stirrup. What could have happened? Panicked, Bernardo ran for the stairs and Don Alejandro. He checked the peephole into Don Alejandro’s bedroom and then slid the panel open when he saw that no one but the elder don was there.
Don Alejandro was just shrugging into his jacket when he turned to see Bernardo coming into his room. Barging into his room like this was something that the mozo never did. Seeing the look on the servant’s face, he became alarmed. "What is it, Bernardo?" he questioned. At the sign of the "Z", he said, "Zorro? Something about Zorro?" Bernardo nodded and pointed down to the cave and then shook his head and held his hands up. "Zorro is not here?" said Don Alejandro. He did not like the fact that his son had not yet returned, but Zorro had been late returning before. Then his alarm returned as he watched Bernardo’s hands once more. "Tornado is here and Zorro is not?" he asked. Bernardo nodded "yes" emphatically. Then he motioned Don Alejandro to follow him into the tunnels. Without another word, Don Alejandro followed Bernardo, closing the panel behind them. He did not allow himself to think the unthinkable as they hurried down the darkened spaces.
Entering the cave, they went over to Tornado who was waiting for them. Bernardo pointed to the blood on the stirrup. Don Alejandro’s eyes met Bernardo’s and he said, "Zorro is wounded?" Bernardo could only shrug and nod "yes" and "no" at the same time to indicate that he did not know for sure, but he suspected the worst. "We must go to him, . . . but where could he be?" said Don Alejandro. Bernardo could only shrug. Then he took Don Alejandro by the arm and led him around to face Tornado. He made some motions. "You want me to ask Tornado where Zorro is?" Don Alejandro asked incredulously. Bernardo nodded. Feeling somewhat strange, but desperate for answers, Don Alejandro cleared his throat and addressed the stallion.
"Where is Zorro? Tornado. Where is Zorro?" he asked. The stallion raised his head higher and then began tossing his head up and down and pawing the ground. Encouraged, Don Alejandro said again, "Tornado. Where is Zorro? Can you take us to him?" With a small nicker, Tornado turned and trotted over to the entrance to the cave as though going to go to his master right away. "Wait!" cried Don Alejandro. "Whoa, boy. Don’t go just yet. You must wait for us."
Tornado stopped and Bernardo ran to catch hold of his bridle. He stroked the stallion’s neck as the black began to paw the ground impatiently. He had been told to bring the silent one, Bernardo, back to his master and he was ready to do so. What was this waiting?
"Bernardo, tie him to the stall and give him some oats," said Don Alejandro. "We will go up and get our horses and ride back here. Then we will let Tornado lead us to Zorro. Come, quickly!"
Bernardo did as he was told and they ran back up the stairs. Once back in the hacienda, they had to calm themselves and act as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. While Don Alejandro gave some orders to the vaqueros for the day’s business, Bernardo ran upstairs to get his saddlebag, which he filled with bandages and medicines of all kinds. He did not know what to bring, so he brought it all. When he came down, both men quickly went out and saddled their horses and rode away with the explanation that they were going to the pueblo.
Once out of sight of the hacienda, they circled around and came into the cave. Tornado tossed his head impatiently. He had eaten the good oats left by the silent one and now he was ready to return to his master. He rumbled deep in his chest.
"Turn him loose," said Don Alejandro from the back of his horse. Bernardo nodded and hastened to do so, then he quickly remounted his horse. Don Alejandro addressed the black stallion again. "Tornado. Lead us to Zorro. Go to Zorro, boy." Instantly, Tornado trotted out of the cave and the two men hastened to keep up with him.
*********************************
When Zorro came to, it was so gradual that he did not really recognize the actual moment when he knew that he was conscious once again. His head was still pounding and his body felt as though it belonged to someone else. He blinked and looked up at the blue sky, seeing the puffy white clouds floating by. Only, at the moment, he could not recall what those fluffy white things were called. His face still felt hot and it was not just from the sun which was overhead. Raising his hand, dripping with water from the stream, he ran it over his face, pulling the mask down around his neck. The water felt good on his face and he dipped his hand back down and brought more water to drip on his skin. Some of it ran across his lips and he opened them to let the moisture in. With a moan, he rolled over on his side and used what little strength he had to cup the water in his hand and drink. Too weak, he did not get all he wanted before he rolled on his back once more and let his hand fall back into the water with a splash.
But the water had refreshed him somewhat, and his mind gained a little more clarity. He tried to make out where he was. Blinking, he turned his head one way and then the other and saw that he was lying on his back in a little stream of water in a place he did not recognize. He felt absolutely rotten. If he had died at this very moment, he considered that it might have been a blessing. All of a sudden, his body was racked with a spasm of coughing which left him curled up in a fetal position and hurting. When the coughing subsided, he was panting, and rolled once more onto his back in the water. He was sick. So very sick. He needed to get out of the water. He needed to get home. Coughing again, he held his stomach by crossing both arms. When he was through, he was exhausted. He did not have the strength to move at the moment. He was laboring to catch his breath.
After lying there in the water for a while longer, Diego frowned and gritted his teeth. Using his arms and shoulders, and pushing with his feet, he rolled over and got to his hands and knees which threatened to collapse under him as they trembled weakly. Inch by slow inch he crawled toward the edge of the stream. He had to stop often while his body was wracked with a spasms of coughing which continued to leave him panting for breath. But he was determined to get out of the water. He might die in this wilderness, but he did not want to die soaking wet in a stream of water. He would die on dry land.
At last, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, he had pulled himself up onto the dry and stony ground next to the stream. He lay there, rolled onto his side, his arms once again clasped tightly over his middle. His head was splitting and his whole body ached, but he was triumphant in that he had accomplished his goal. He coughed again, cutting short his celebration. When the coughing spell had subsided, he was completely exhausted. His eyes closed and he knew no more.
**************************************
Pedroza leaned back in his chair behind the desk in his office and stared sullenly at the papers scattered there. Paperwork. He hated it. But there were reports he was expected to send regularly to Monterey, and they were due again. However, his mind was not on the papers before him, but on the mountains beyond the walls of his office. Was Zorro dead or not? That was the question. Had he been hit by one of the bullets fired by the soldiers and was he lying dead somewhere on that accursed mountain? Pedroza pulled open one of the drawers in the desk and took out a large, folded paper. Opening the paper, he smoothed the creases as he laid it on the desktop.
"Two thousand pesos," he murmured, as he traced the numbers with his finger. Two thousand pesos could be lying up there in that mountain and here he was sitting around this dirt poor pueblo doing nothing. He was sure he had seen the outlaw doubled over and leaning on the neck of his horse for support as they rode away. He must have been shot. Pedroza studied the poster again. He would find a native who knew something about those mountains and they would search them until they found Zorro. Rising, Pedroza fastened on his sword and took his hat from the peg by the door on his way out.
"Sanchez!" he called out.
Sanchez came to attention and said, "Sí, mí Capitán!"
"Sanchez. You will go out into the plaza and find me someone who knows those mountains over there like the back of his hand. I don’t care if it is an Indian, peon, or a hacendado. This is a military matter and you will conscript anyone who can find his way around up there. Now go!"
Sanchez saluted and said, "Sí, mí Capitán!" He ran to do Predroza’s bidding.
In the meantime, Pedroza ordered his men out and had them prepare to ride out on his command. They were going to go and find the fortune waiting for him out there.
**************************************
Don Alejandro and Bernardo trailed after Tornado, who seemed to be very definite in his choice of direction. Don Alejandro’s experience with horses had not prepared him for this sort of thing. One told horses what to do and directed their actions. One did not question a horse and expect an answer. But this was Zorro’s horse that they were following and that somehow made the difference. His son’s incarnation as the masked rider had taken him to a place beyond Don Alejandro’s experience. That Tornado could lead the two of them to Zorro was a fantastic notion, but the elder de la Vega was not prepared to dismiss it. He would do anything to find his son. A son who was almost certainly in trouble.
Don Alejandro could see that they were headed toward the mountains. Tornado kept a steady pace several dozen yards in front of them. The elder de la Vega had hunted game in these mountains many times over the years and he knew just how rugged the high country could be. He looked at the mountains with apprehension. If Zorro was lying up there somewhere, injured and unable to move, they would never find him without a guide. He breathed a prayer of thankfulness for Tornado, placing his faith in the four footed companion of his only son. Tornado was their hope.
They came to the base of the mountain and began to climb. Tornado still kept up his pace and seemed to know just where he was going. There were many switchbacks in the trail, and they had to negotiate around large boulders, but the general trend was ever upward into the mountains. The track grew more and more steep, and Don Alejandro and Bernardo began to fall behind. Their mounts had to negotiate the way while carrying their riders, whereas Tornado had no one on his back. Don Alejandro’s horse stumbled on the rocks that littered the trail and recovered. The elder don was forced to slow up to give his horse a chance to keep his footing. Gazing further up the trail, Don Alejandro could still see Tornado ahead of them, but he was becoming afraid that they might loose sight of him shortly. The rocks and boulders were becoming more numerous and the way more narrow and convoluted. If they lost sight of Tornado, there would be no tracks to follow because the trail had turned to stony ground long ago. They would have to keep the stallion in sight or risk losing the way. Grimly, Don Alejandro urged his horse onward with Bernardo following close behind.
They came to a place where the trail made a particularly difficult descent before continuing up the other side. Don Alejandro could see Tornado far above them, and watched as he disappeared behind a large boulder. Don Alejandro and Bernardo negotiated the dip, careful of their horses’ legs, for the ground was strewn with loose rocks and stones, any one of which could cause a misstep with disastrous results. By the time they had made it across and up the other side, Tornado was nowhere to be seen. Don Alejandro pulled up to allow Bernardo to come alongside him.
"I fear we have lost him," said Don Alejandro, continuing to scan the steep ground above them.
Bernardo nodded and searched the mountainside himself. He could see nothing of Tornado.
"We will just have to go on in this general direction and hope for the best," Don Alejandro said at last, when it became clear that Tornado was gone. Bernardo nodded solemnly.
Before they could urge their horses forward, they were hailed from behind. Don Alejandro turned around in his saddle to look, while Bernardo pretended not to have heard anything. Don Alejandro turned his horse around to face Capitán Pedroza and his men who were coming toward them. Bernardo "noticed" Don Alejandro’s actions and turned his horse to face the soldiers as well. Right behind Capitán Pedroza was Don Emilio Lanza, looking none too happy about being with the patrol.
"Hola, Señor de la Vega!" said Capitán Pedroza. "How is it I find you here in these mountains so far from home?"
Though Don Alejandro’s heart beat a tattoo in his chest, he kept his face carefully neutral. He thought furiously. Pedroza could only be here for one reason. He, too, was searching for Zorro. What could he tell the Capitán that would not sound suspicious?
"I, . . . am looking . . . for a rogue stallion who has been raiding my mares." he managed to say at last. "We have been trying to follow his trail." Turning to Don Emilio, he said, "Buenas diás, Don Emilio. You are far from home also."
"Sí, Don Alejandro," said the man, who was perhaps ten years younger than Don Alejandro. "The capitán needed a guide in these mountains to look for Zorro . . . "
He was cut off by Pedroza. "I needed a man who knows this mountain. Don Emilio happened to be in the pueblo and graciously volunteered his services."
By the sour look on Don Emilio’s face, Don Alejandro sincerely doubted that the don had "volunteered". He looked back at Pedroza as the capitán continued. "A rogue stallion, eh, Señor de la Vega? Beware that you do not find a rogue outlaw instead. Just how many mares has this thief taken?"
"Only one, Capitán, but she was my best," said Don Alejandro, keeping his fabricated tale to a minimum.
"You mean Princessa?" asked Don Emilio in disbelief.
Pedroza looked from one man to another, then asked, "Who is this Princessa?"
Don Emilio spoke first. "She is the finest mare in all California, Capitán Pedroza. In all of her races, she has never been beaten." He looked back at Don Alejandro. "If she has been taken, I don’t wonder that you are out here searching for her."
"Yes, we followed their trail here and then lost it when the ground turned to stone. We are still hoping to find them." Don Alejandro then addressed a question of his own to Pedroza. "You are here to search for El Zorro, Capitán? Here, on this mountain? This is rather farther than his usual haunts is it not? If I may ask, what makes you think that he is up here somewhere?"
Pedroza had a rather dour look on his face for a moment and then said, "Because we chased him up here last night, where we lost him in the darkness." Pedroza looked further up the mountain, "But I know he is still up here somewhere. I know he was gravely wounded, and we will find him." The capitán did not see the worried look that passed between Don Alejandro and Bernardo.
"Then you could not have chosen a finer man to guide you," said Don Alejandro, hiding his feelings as best as he could. "Don Emilio has been all over these mountains. He is a fine hunter." He could not let on that he had any concerns about Zorro’s safety. "In which direction will you search, Capitán?"
"Why do you ask?" questioned Pedroza, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"If you are searching in another section of the mountain, you might keep an eye out for my mare," said Don Alejandro with a smile. "I would offer a generous reward to anyone who might find her and bring her back to my hacienda. She means a great deal to me."
Pedroza seemed satisfied with Don Alejandro’s answer. He pointed to the northern flank of the mountain. "We lost him several miles away, over in that direction," he said. "Don Emilio is going to help us find a way around a large fissure that kept us from following the black devil last night. You are armed, Señor?" he inquired.
Don Alejandro nodded and said, "Sí. I have my rifle and a pistol, both loaded. My servant carries a pistol as well."
"Then I pray you have no use for them, but watch yourselves," said Pedroza. "A wounded animal is a dangerous one. I do not think you will find Zorro, but you should be on your guard."
"Sí, I will be careful," said Don Alejandro.
Looking back at his men, Pedroza said, "We have wasted enough time here. We must go. Lead on, Don Emilio." Touching the brim of his hat, he said, "Señor," as he urged his horse onward. The soldiers lined out behind Don Emilio and Pedroza as they took the trail leading north.
When the clatter of the soldier’s horses on the stone had died away, Don Alejandro looked at Bernardo. "The capitán seemed certain that they had wounded Zorro last night, and you found blood on the saddle." Bernardo nodded with worry evident on his face. "We must find him," said the elder de la Vega. Looking up the trail taken by Tornado, he glanced once more at Bernardo who nodded. Don Alejandro’s face became set in determination and he urged his mount forward. Their trail led in an easterly direction, away from the area mentioned by Pedroza. But this was the way Tornado had taken. Zorro must be in this direction. At least, that is what both men prayed as they rode on.
******************************
Don Alejandro and Bernardo came at last to a high valley in the mountain. They were at the southern end and they could see the small stream that meandered down the length of the valley, flowing down from the north. The stream wandered in and out among the stones and boulders that covered the valley floor. Though the going here was a little easier, the broken and craggy rocks still obscured their view. They had not seen anything of Tornado, and Don Alejandro was fearful that they had lost their guide and would never find Diego. They rode down to the stream to let their horses drink while they dismounted to stretch their legs for a moment.
Bernardo was worried as well. He had faith in the black stallion, that he would go straight to Diego, but was quite upset that they had lost sight of him now. He scanned the valley for any sign of Tornado, but like Don Alejandro, he saw nothing. Sighing, he went down to the stream to quench his own thirst and splash some water on his face and neck. He had taken but a swallow when he saw something dark bobbing in the water just upstream from him. It was a black hat, which was caught by its string on a small stone. Splashing through the water, he hastened to pick it up. His pulse quickened when he recognized the silver band on the hat. He ran over to Don Alejandro. Holding the hat out to him, Bernardo made the sign of the "Z".
"Zorro’s hat?" questioned Don Alejandro, as he examined it and then looked back upstream.
Bernardo nodded and agreed with Don Alejandro and pointed eagerly to the north, following the path of the stream.
"You are right, Bernardo," said Don Alejandro eagerly. "His hat must have floated down the stream to get here. Come, we will follow it north and see what we can find."
Quickly, they both mounted their horses and set out following the stream. This was not so easy, as they had to make many detours around large stones and cracks in the rocky floor of the valley. Their horses were tiring, but they would not stop. They had to find Diego.
As they continued in a northerly direction, Bernardo tapped Don Alejandro on the arm and motioned.
"Capitán Pedroza?" questioned Don Alejandro. "What about him?" Bernardo held up his hand to his eyes as though he was searching for something and then motioned to the land in front of them. Don Alejandro looked at the terrain before them. "You may be right, Bernardo. Pedroza was going to search in this general direction. We’ve got to find Diego first." He urged his horse onward.
They were nearing the northern end of the valley when they heard the ringing neigh of a stallion echoing across the land. "Tornado!" exclaimed Don Alejandro. Bernardo nodded and pointed happily as he saw the stallion standing beside a large boulder, tossing his head up and down as if to beckon them to hurry on.
******************************
"What was that?" Pedroza said as he drew his horse to a stop.
Don Emilio stopped beside him. "It was a horse, Capitán."
"I know that!" snapped Pedroza. "I know a horse when I hear one." He looked around. So far, they had found nothing in this forsaken place. Don Emilio had taken them to the area on the other side of the fissure where Zorro had made his escape, but there were very few clues as to where he might have gone. There were one or two small drops of blood at the landing site, but nothing after that. Their search had been fruitless so far.
"It might be the stallion that Don Alejandro was looking for," suggested Don Emilio. "He might have come this far."
"Or it might be Zorro’s horse," said Pedroza, with narrowed eyes as he searched the landscape. "Which way do you think he is?" he asked.
Don Emilio pointed south. "It was very far away, but I think that the sound came from that direction, Capitán."
Pedroza turned his horse to face south. "It might be Don Alejandro’s rogue stallion, or it might be Zorro’s stallion," he speculated. "In either case, we will go and see. Even if it is only the four footed horse thief, I can claim the reward for catching Don Alejandro’s Princessa for him. The day will not be a total waste. Lead on, Don Emilio. Lancers, forward!"
*******************************
Judging by the position of the sun, some time had passed since Diego had fallen into an exhausted sleep. His first act upon waking was to curl up in a fit of coughing. When the coughing had subsided, he rolled over onto his stomach and pulled himself the few inches to the edge of the stream and drank as much water as he could. Then he splashed some on his face. When he pushed himself back away from the water, he rolled onto his back and coughed again. When this spell ended, he raised his right arm, letting his forearm rest across his eyes. He felt so bad that he could not even think clearly. It hurt just to think. All he could grasp was that he was very sick. He had no name for his illness, but that did not matter. Nothing mattered. He was too sick for anything to matter.
Between coughing spells, all he could do was dip his left hand in the water of the stream next to him and let the cool droplets fall on his face. They were his only comfort. When he felt coherent enough to think from time to time, he tried to reconstruct why he was in this lonely place. Vague images came to him, but he was too exhausted and sick to make much of them. His head still pounded and he was swept by waves of dizziness and nausea.
Suddenly, he heard a sound which echoed around him and seemed to penetrate his mental fog. He made the effort to lift his head and look around. He recognized the neighing of a horse, and knew that it was quite close. After a moment, he could hear the hoof beats as the horse came nearer.
Diego blinked to clear his eyes as the rider came into view. Startled, Diego pushed himself up with his arms and scooted backward until he fetched up against a rock and could not back up any further. He fought the dizziness and disorientation that accompanied his spinning vision. Through dancing spots and swirling colors, he could just make out that the rider was a soldier, an officer in the king’s army. The man was examining him with minute attention and smiled at him in recognition. As the man came closer, Diego could focus on more details, though he wished the world would stop its mad spinning for a moment. He blinked his eyes and rubbed his face with his hand and looked again. The edges of his sight were still blurry, but he could now see the soldier more clearly. A handsome man, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard, Diego found himself drawn to the man’s eyes. Icy blue they were. The clear blue eyes of Enrique Sanchez Monastario. The man’s smile grew as he saw that Diego recognized him.
"Ah, de la Vega, we meet again," Monastario said smoothly. "Though I must say I am surprised to find you lying on the ground like this." He looked the length of Diego’s body before meeting his eyes again. "I see that you are dressed for your own funeral, Señor Zorro," he said with a leering smile. "Basic black becomes you."
Involuntarily, Diego’s hands went to his face, where he discovered to his horror that his mask was not there. Fumbling, he found it around his neck and frantically tried to pull it up to cover his face, but it was tangled and he could not straighten it. His hands froze as Monastario spoke again.
"Tut, tut. Do not worry yourself, de la Vega. I have known who you are for a long time now. I was merely awaiting the moment when you should make a mistake." Monastario raised his right hand. "And then I would have you," he continued, as he clenched it into a fist.. "You are mine, de la Vega. The great invincible El Zorro is mine." Monastario threw his head back and laughed.
Diego pushed himself back against the rock as if trying to escape. But his strength had failed him. He could not escape. He watched as Monastario dismounted and walked over to him, drawing his sword. Brandishing the bright blade, and making it sing in the air between them, Monastario came to stand over Diego. Diego could only look up at Monastario, seeing the self-satisfied smile; knowing that he was finished.
"Save a place for me in infierno," Monastario said as he drew his arm back and plunged his sword toward Diego’s heart.
Diego’s hoarse cry echoed through the mountains.
Part Three
Part One
Table of Contents
