I don't own these characters. I just enjoy reading and writing about them.
He was tired.
No.
He was exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.
It was the middle of the night. Zorro leaned against the boulder at his back, sitting quietly and feeling guilty. He was not the only one who was at the end of his endurance. Toronado stood a few feet away from him, his head lowered and his eyes closed. He and the horse had been riding hard lately, day and night, doing the work the pueblo's soldiers should have been doing. And Zorro was to the point of 'enough is enough'. He had chosen this life, but it was unfair to force it upon the animal who had saved his life on countless occasions. It was time to take a step back and let the citizens learn to handle the inability, and unwillingness, of the alcalde and his lancers to defend the pueblo. Zorro was taking a much deserved break!
As the masked hero rubbed his tired eyes, a mist began forming a few yards away from him; a fog with a strange glow. As he watched, a man emerged from the mist, and it seemed he was glowing as well. But as he came closer, the light around him faded. Zorro got to his feet and pulled his sword, ready to do battle if necessary.
"I come as a friend," the man told him quietly, stopping in his tracks. "I mean you no harm." He was dressed in clothing of a type Zorro had not seen before. Zorro stared at the man, and a strong feeling of calm assurance came over him. After a few moments, he slowly returned his sword to its scabbard.
"What a beautiful horse," the man commented as he looked at Toronado. "May I approach him?" Zorro nodded and the stranger walked toward Toronado. "Ah, you have a fighting spirit," he whispered as he stopped in front of the horse, then he put his hands on either side of Toronado's head. A slight glow emanated from his palms, which Zorro could not see as the man was blocking his view. The horse snorted, then he raised his head and shook it, his eyes bright and his ears perked. "You're welcome," the man said softly, and he stepped back as Toronado then shook his whole body and trotted a few feet away, and began grazing.
Zorro was amazed at the sudden transformation in his horse, and gave the stranger a long enquiring look. The man noticed and stated, "I believe we have much in common," as he moved to stand near Zorro.
"Oh? What makes you think that? You don't even know me," Zorro said cautiously.
"But I know of you. I also spent many years fighting. Unlike you, I didn't fight alone; I had men who were under my command, but we were an independent group. At first there were only 60 or 70 of us; sometimes as few as 20 men remained with me. And we were fighting in a war against a much stronger and well-trained enemy. It was not an easy battle." The stranger sighed, remembering the past.
Then he continued, "You would have fit in well with my men. We both use the same strategies - surprise attacks and quick withdrawals. Your use of your surroundings to confound your enemy is very similar to how we utilized the swamps in my home state to mount swift attacks, and even swifter escapes, leaving our adversaries lost and confused."
The stranger looked Zorro in the eyes. "We won our war. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't done quickly. But we persevered until we achieved victory." He stepped closer to the masked man. "Diego, stay the course."
Zorro's eyes widened, and he protested, "Who is this 'Diego' you speak of? I think you are mistaken..."
The man interrupted Zorro's speech, with a knowing grin. "Your secret is safe with me." He glanced upwards, then continued, "I was sent to let you know that you can, and will, win your fight against injustice. I know you grow weary of it, but stay the course. Remember, the darkest hour comes just before the dawn."
The man paused a moment, then stated, "My time grows short." He placed his palms on Zorro's forearms, and his hands began to glow. Zorro took a step back in surprise, then he gasped and stood still as warmth seemed to flow through his body. The aches and pains of previous battles faded away, as did the overwhelming exhaustion. He straightened as he felt rejuvenated by the energy flowing from the man's touch. Then the stranger dropped his hands and turned and walked away.
The mist was reforming, and the man's body began to take on a strong glow as he approached it. "Wait please, senor!" called Zorro. "You didn't tell me your name, or who sent you."
The man spoke as he began to fade into the fog, his voice echoing strangely. "I am Francis Marion, and I was sent to you by a mutual acquaintance..." The mist dissipated, and Zorro was alone again in the darkness. He looked around in confusion, trying to make sense of what he had just seen, when a very bright shooting star went across the sky directly above him. He smiled in sudden understanding, then saluted the heavens and went to Toronado.
"Come, boy," he took Toronado's reins and mounted the horse. "Let's go home."
Francis Marion fought in the American Revolutionary War. He was known as the Swamp Fox.
