Back at the tavern, Alejandro was well aware that all eyes were on him as he made his way up to the bar. A few of his fellow dons were at their usual table, but no hands had been dealt. Perhaps the one I've been dealt is a game enough, Alejandro thought. He spotted Senor Avila and Pineda, looking a little less dusty than he had the evening before. "Right on time," Pineda commented, giving Alejandro a dirty look. "Except….your son seems to be absent."
"Have you come to explain your son's tardiness, Don Alejandro?" Avila questioned him. His tone was condescending, and if he had been Alejandro's son, Alejandro wouldn't have hesitated to slap him for his disrespect. Please, Bernardo. He prayed Diego was safe, wherever he was. "My son…has been unavoidably detained," Alejandro settled on finally. "But he will appear."
"Of course," Avila said patronizingly. "In the meantime, we shall drink to your good health," he said. He tapped the bar top. "A bottle of your best wine," he instructed the innkeeper. The man looked at him as if he'd rather crack the bottle over Avila's head, but chose to pour two glasses instead. "Pineda, you may take the money to my room, and wait for me."
Alejandro raised an eyebrow. "Senor, you are mistaken," he said carefully. "I did not come here to pay blackmail. My son will be here, but if he is not, I am his second." He looked the younger man up and down. "You will not get out of fighting a de la Vega so easily."
"Do not try to bluff me, old man," Avila said. He leaned in close. "Your son has taken to the hills, where he cringes in fear for his life."
Alejandro raised his glass…and proceeded to throw the contents in Senor Avila's smug face. The younger man coughed and sputtered, taking a step back, the red wine dripping down his cheeks and into his trimmed goatee, and down the front of his shirt. Alejandro picked up Avila's glass and proceeded to drain it in one swallow, setting it upside down on the bar.
"The de la Vegas have ice water in their veins," he heard someone out in the crowd say.
"That leaves two scores to settle Senor," Avila hissed, wiping off his face. "This will cost you double."
Alejandro stared at him. "I will settle the scores for me…and for my son," he said. He jerked his head toward the exit. "Vamos." He strode to the patio with a confidence he did not feel. Is this how my son goes into every battle? he wondered. Outside, a crowd was starting to gather as the church bell tolled high noon. Pineda handed Alejandro a sword and he tested the weight of it, gave a few practiced, controlled flicks. It had been a moment since he'd held a blade, but some of the technique was coming back to him. Perhaps, he thought, when this is all over, Diego can give me a few lessons.
"Have you given me your final answer, Don Alejandro?" Avila asked him.
Alejandro's response was a curt nod, taking up position. "Very well. Pineda," Avila instructed. "Give the signal."
Pineda took a step out of the way as the two men saluted, took up their positions. Pineda pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and held it up. "En garde."
He dropped the token, and Alejandro went on the offensive. The blades clanged loudly in the silence. Every member of the crowd gathered was quiet, even the birds weren't chirping. It was as if they knew Alejandro needed every ounce of concentration he possessed.
Alejandro couldn't stop thinking about Diego. It cost him. Avila battled him into a corner. His back hit a post, shocking him back to the matter at hand. Avila lashed out, slicing a cut into his right arm. Alejandro hissed in pain, looking at the gash in his jacket and shirt. The blade had gone right through to his arm. Blood seeped out of a cut, staining his sleeve. Someone from the crowd stepped forward to help patch him up, but Alejandro waved them away, taking up a ready stance once more. He moved, pushing Avila backwards across the yard again. Avila was smiling. He's enjoying this, Alejandro realized.
At the same time, he also knew. There is no way I am going to best him. Avila chose that moment and fought Alejandro to the fountain in the center of the yard, feinting. Alejandro lost his footing and stumbled, losing his sword as he gripped the lip of the fountain to keep from hitting his head on the edge.
Avila sliced the older man at the shoulder, another deep cut. "Now. Say you will pay," he said, holding the tip of the sword to Alejandro's neck.
The crowd began to murmur.
Alejandro's response was final. "No."
Avila shrugged. "As you wish," he said, pulling his sword back for a final blow.
"Senor Avila!"
I know that voice. Alejandro sighed in relief as a familiar black-clad figure dropped over the side of the patio wall. Diego. And, gracias a Dios, he doesn't look any worse for the wear. He wished he could say the same for himself. His arm was killing him.
El Zorro made his way across the yard, helped Alejandro to his feet. Dark eyes took stock of his injuries. "You make a business of fighting for money," Zorro said, his tone deadly. Deliberately, he took off his cape, tossed it onto the seat of the wagon near the wall. "Now. Let us see how well you fight for sport."
"For sport and money," Avila retorted. "There is a price on your head, Senor Zorro. And I shall be pleased to collect it!"
Zorro smiled, gestured him forward with a finger. "Come and collect it, then."
A few of Alejandro's friends helped him to a table and out of the way of the battle, as Avila yelled, slashing his sword towards Zorro. Zorro parried him easily. Alejandro grimaced as someone took off his jacket, gave him a handkerchief to slow the blood from his arm and shoulder. He barely noticed; his eyes were on his son. Wherever Diego had been, whatever had happened to him, it had not affected his swordplay. At least, not too noticeably. He was perhaps a little slower, his technique not quite as polished.
But the smile on his face…Alejandro nodded to himself. Diego will be all right, he thought.
Diego, for his part, channeled his anger and frustration into the match. The headache had mostly subsided and he could feel his limbs regaining strength. His father was no worse for the wear, minus the injuries to his arm, and that helped with his mental state.
I have all afternoon, he thought with a smile. Then, an opening. Diego pushed his blade against Avila's and twisted out. The move disarmed Avila, sending his sword flying into the dirt, right at the feet of Sergeant Garcia, who had come in the gate with Corporal Reyes and Bernardo.
"I still seem to be here," Diego said, the tip of his sword pressed against Avila's chest. "Shall we continue?" he asked lightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his father coming toward them. "Throw him his sword, Senor de la Vega," Diego said, clipping his syllables a bit to hide the resemblance in his father's voice and his own.
"He does not deserve mercy," Alejandro bit. "Finish him."
Yes, Father is fine. That de la Vega temper is back. "Throw him his sword, Senor," Diego said. This is my fight to finish Father, my honor at stake. Let me have it!
Alejandro hesitated, then, tossed the sword at Avila. The blade buried itself in the dirt next to him. Avila grabbed it, and Diego stepped back, letting him stand. Avila yelled something unintelligible, coming at him. Diego allowed himself a confident smirk. I knew it…he does not have the mental fortitude to continue. He has been embarrassed, and bested.
Diego lunged, slicing Avila's shirt in the same place Avila had done to his father. "An eye for an eye, Senor," he told him. "There's the first."
Avila attacked, but Diego parried him easily, and cut him again in the shoulder. "And that's the other one."
Avila charged. Diego stepped sideways. Avila's momentum carried him directly into the fountain. Diego turned to his father, offered him a salute with the rapier, and put it back in its sheath. He walked over to the fountain, pulling Avila out by the jacket lapels. "If I ever see you again, Senor Avila," he promised, "I'll kill you." He let the sputtering man go, and he dropped back into the water.
Diego turned to Garcia and Reyes. "Amigos," he said, and meant it. "I leave Senor Avila in your hands. See that he leaves town quickly."
"Of course, Senor Zorro," Garcia replied. Reyes moved to pull Avila out of the water. Pineda tried to get away, but Alejandro and a few of his friends blocked the tavern door. Reyes hauled Avila out and dropped him unceremoniously at the feet of the sergeant. Garcia looked at Zorro. "We will take care of it. Amigo."
The way he said it…Diego froze, watching Garcia intently. The bigger man pulled Avila up with one hand, and gave him a nod. "Vamos, you," he said to Avila, beckoning to Pineda while he was at it.
Diego retrieved his cape from the wagon, and hopped up onto the top of the wall. "Adios," he said, offering Garcia a two fingered salute. Then, he was over the wall, onto Tornado's back, and disappeared down the road.