Diego twisted to the side and Ignacio's blade sailed harmlessly past him. Diego stepped backward and drew his weapon. The thin blade balanced perfectly in his strong hand and he enjoyed the feel for a brief moment. Expect for his short demonstration, Diego had not used this sword since his return from Spain, and it felt light and quick in his hand. Diego watched as Ignacio composed himself.

Ignacio ran a finger across his scar and stared at Diego. His eyes were narrowed behind shadowed eyelids and his lips were curled into a half grin that left him looking slightly mad. Ignacio readjusted his weapon and dusted off his shirt sleeve, his body relaxing as he inhaled a breath and let it out slowly. He wore a simple white shirt, the sleeves loose but slim, and the wrists tied close to his skin. His pants were dark blue, almost black in the failing light. He had set his jacket on his saddle, along with his gloves and hat. A knife was wedged in his boot, the handle hidden in the dark leather.

Diego stood with his body taunt, his knees slightly bent to help maintain his balance. He knew Ignacio would not be so rash with his next move. Diego maintained his defensive stance as Ignacio edged closer. The sound of steel colliding echoed across the plaza. Ignacio swept his sword downward and Diego rose up to meet him. Diego's weapon vibrated with the force of the blow. At this rate, Diego thought, Ignacio will tire himself out quickly.

Ignacio pressed his advance, his blade moving quickly and precisely. The two figures moved around the center of the circle swiftly, their booted feet stirring up a fine layer of dust that swirled in the slight wind. Alejandro held his breath as the fight continued and awe crept into his wide eyes as his son parried a thrust and twisted on his heels. His blade swung up and connected with Ignacio's steel weapon. For a moment, the two men stood still, their swords held against each other, poised in mid-air as the dust settled around them.

Diego back peddled and his sword fell free. Ignacio took a moment to catch his breath as he surveyed his opponent. He had not expected Diego to put up such a fight. Although he knew he played the part of masked bandit, Ignacio was not impressed with the soldiers. Ignacio thought this would be an easy battle. His anger rose as he looked at Diego. The lean caballero stood waiting, his sword held down and his left arm slightly behind him. A small smile played across the lips of the caballero and Ignacio scowled at the man.

I will not lose, Ignacio thought as he pressed an advance. He thrust his blade at Diego and was angered when his sword met steel. In a flurry of movement, the two men collided and Ignacio caught Diego on his jaw with his left fist. Diego staggered back a step and looked at Ignacio in surprise. The man simply could not fight honorably. Blood dripped lazily from Diego's busted lip and he swiped the back of his hand across the cut.

"You have no honor, Ignacio. You will do anything to win, but by dishonoring yourself you lose. You can not defeat me. I have always been your better. Go home, Ignacio. Forget what happened and live your life." Diego tried to get through to the man; he did not wish to continue the fight, but he would not back down.

"I will not let you defeat me Diego. You will die by my hand. I swore I would avenge Benicio. My blood sealed my vow and I will not dishonor him. As I said earlier, you will die today Diego. You can only delay it so long."

Diego could not respond as Ignacio lunged. Diego spun, twisting his torso and stepping back, but the blade caught his shirt and cut a shallow furrow along his ribs. The wound stung, but it was not fatal. Ignacio pressed his attack again, hoping to catch Diego before he found his balance, but Diego had recovered and he met Ignacio. The crowd gasped as the two men fought, the advantage going from one man to the other.

Monastario stared dumbfounded, his jaw slightly open and his dark brown eyes wide. Diego moved with a grace and speed he had not seen even Zorro use. The Commandante was not certain Zorro would win against Diego. Ignacio was also a master and Monastario felt fear course down his spine. He fancied himself a decent swordsman, but he held nothing compared to these two fighters. Monastario started in surprise as Ignacio stumbled. The man caught himself before he fell and he stooped, one hand resting against his knee. Diego hung back, letting the man recover. A fool, Monastario thought, a stupid noble fool.

Garcia could not believe that this Don was the same gentle, peaceful man he had known. Garcia held no reservations about his own skill and he knew he would be slaughtered by Ignacio and easily defeated by Diego. Never had he seen two such masters fight. Sergeant Garcia was not certain which man was better, but he would lay all his wages in favor of Diego. He did not doubt his friend would beat Ignacio. Although, he said a small prayer just to be sure. No harm in being well prepared, he thought.

Ignacio was beginning to feel the strain of the fight on his muscles. His arms shook slightly and his legs burned. He knew Diego was just as tired. Sweat and dust covered the faces of both men and at the moment, neither man looked to be a Don. Diego's shirt was torn and bloody, as was his lip, and his hair fell across his brow. Ignacio's shirt was covered in sweat and his knuckles were broken and bleeding.

The crowd cheered sporadically as the fight ensued and they stared at the two men in wonder. In their eyes, Diego was forever a changed man. The onlookers had seen the fire and passion that was part of the de la Vega heritage and they could never forget the fight. Even if Diego put his sword away once again and became the passive Don they had come to know, the men, women, and children gathered would never see him as an inept fool, but instead a proud and honorable de la Vega. The people of the pueblo de los Angeles had always admired Diego for his kindness and concern, but now they would cherish him as a fighter and a scholar.

The clink of steel against steel wafted across the pueblo and Ignacio staggered. Diego took the offensive and lunged; his blade found hardened flesh and pierced the side of Ignacio's left arm. Ignacio grabbed his arm and hissed against the pain, falling to one knee. Blood seeped through his fingers and he glared at Diego. While he had only scratched Diego, Ignacio's wound bleed deeply. Slick fingers readjusted their hold on his sword and his left arm, although burning with pain, moved slowly toward his boot.

Diego saw the blood as Ignacio knelt in the dirt. "Do you surrender?" Diego took a step closer. Ignacio swallowed down the pain and gathered his strength. He sprang as Diego moved another step closer. His dagger flashed in the waning light and Diego could not react quickly enough to keep the blade from sinking into his thigh. Ignacio laughed as Diego stumbled backward.

From the corner of this eye, Diego could see Alejandro lurch forward, but he waved him back. Reluctantly, Alejandro obeyed, his dark eyes filled with worry as he watched the blood drip from Diego's leg. Don Carlos laid a reassuring hand on Alejandro's arm. Doctor Hernandez clasped his bag and could barely suppress the urge to move to Diego's side. Hernandez shook his head as he realized he had no compulsion to aid Ignacio. Of course, he would help the man, but he resigned himself to the fact he would not enjoy it.

Diego shifted his weight and grimaced as pain flared in his leg. He tossed the dagger to the side. Ignacio was rising unsteadily to his feet. Diego held his ground as Ignacio approached slowly. "We will end this now, Diego. You can surrender and I will make your death quick. Or I can bleed you to death."

Diego said nothing. Instead he gritted his teeth and raised his sword. He knew that this was the last each man had in him. Ignacio's left arm was soaked red and it dripped from his fingertips to pool in small puddles beneath him. His own leg oozed blood and each step brought fresh pain to his limb.

The crowded plaza had grown eerily quiet, as if the whole pueblo was holding its breath. And in truth, some were. Alejandro sucked in a deep breath…fear welled in his breast as he watched his son standing in the plaza, his clothes bloodied and his hair matted to his face. A sense of urgency and finality filled the air and in a chaotic moment, the two men moved. Ignacio lurched forward, his body colliding with Diego and the two men sprawled in the dust. Ignacio's fist connected with Diego's ribs and Diego felt his breath escape between clenched teeth. In desperation, Diego swung his sword arm and the hilt caught Ignacio on the shoulder. The man grunted in pain and rolled off of the Don.

So much for an honorable fight, Diego thought as he struggled to gain his feet. Ignacio reached for Diego's ankle, his fingers grazing the brown pant leg, but he was unable to grip the material. Diego managed to rise and he took a shaky step toward Ignacio with his sword pointed down and his eyes wide and alert. Ignacio had managed to stand as well and the two men glared at each other for a moment. This time, Diego made the first move. With speed belying his injury, Diego lunged. Ignacio parried the move but Diego took another quick step toward him, closing the distance and his left fist connected solidly with Ignacio's jaw. Ignacio fell.

Ignacio Fuentes looked up into the angry face of Diego de la Vega and his eyes traveled down the Don's arm to the thin steel blade that rested lightly against his chest. "You are defeated, Ignacio. Stand down," The Don's smooth voice infuriated Ignacio and he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.

The defeated man did not move for several minutes and finally he shook his head slowly as though the acknowledgement of his defeat hurt physically. Ignacio rose but Diego kept his sword in place. He did not trust Ignacio and until the man had relinquished his own weapon Diego was taking no chances. Diego repeated his last plea, his voice harsh from pain and fatigue "Stand down, Ignacio."

Brown eyes met hazel and Diego could barely suppress the shiver that wanted to run through his spine. There was something wild in Ignacio's eyes that frightened Diego. Instinctively, Diego took a step back. Ignacio looked around the crowd, saw the angry and disgusted faces and laughed. What did he care about these peasants? They would follow a killer and a bandit without hesitation. These simple people were blinded by a thin façade and never once did they think Diego was more than he claimed.

Ignacio hated Diego. He hated Diego for being something he himself could never be, for being a true gentleman and caballero, a scholar and a fighter. De la Vega was the gem of the University in Spain, the man everyone wanted to become. Handsome, intelligent, witty, a poet and a warrior. Ignacio had learned to hate the man even before he killed his brother. A part of him knew that Diego was not to blame for his brother's death, but he had long ago squelched those feelings. Now all he could think about was how this man had beaten and humiliated him once more.

Ignacio knew he could never return to Spain. His home was lost to him. He had sacrificed his friends for this forsaken quest and while he knew he would do it again, he could not help but feel he may have chosen the wrong road. He had killed a man in Spain – an old classmate of Diego's who knew where Diego lived. No…he had to finish this now. One way or another, Diego would suffer. Earlier, before the fight, an idea had come to him but he had dismissed it, unwilling to make that sacrifice, but now as he stood defeated before his self proclaimed enemy Ignacio resolved himself to the action. He had no home, no family, and no life – he would not spend the rest of his days in some prison. He was a caballero, not some lowly peasant.

"I surrender, Diego." Ignacio spoke softly and Diego was uncertain he had heard correctly, but relief flooded through his raw nerves as the sound of metal hitting dirt reached his ears. The muted thud washed through the crowd and Alejandro let out the breath he held.

In the sudden cacophony of voices, few heard Ignacio's next words. "If I can not kill you Diego, then you will live with my death. Let my blood stain your soul Diego, for I shall haunt you alongside my brother." Before Diego could react and lower his weapon, Ignacio leaned his body forward. Diego jerked his arm back, but it was too late. The sharp blade slid between Ignacio's ribs as he pushed his body forward. Ignacio gasped and blood trickled from his lip to mingle with the dust. Diego fell, unable to hold the sudden weight. The voices ceased suddenly and the sound of the two men falling seemed unusually loud in the twilight.

Deep shadows had begun to form and darkness lapped at the edges of the pueblo. Diego lay on his side, his hazel eyes staring at Ignacio's face. The man looked almost peaceful as he lay there wheezing and blood foamed at the corners of his mouth as he coughed. "I won," Ignacio mumbled before his eyes closed. Diego did not move until Ignacio's head rolled to the side and his breathing stilled. It was only a matter of seconds, but it seemed a lifetime to Diego.

"No…" Diego whispered, pulling his sword free. He placed a hand on the man's chest but felt nothing. Doctor Hernandez was suddenly in Diego's vision, kneeling next to the fallen man and Diego felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Rest easy, mi hijo. It is over." Diego shook his head. It would never be over…Ignacio had made certain of that.

TBC

A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews. Just thought I would let you guys know there are only a couple of chapters left. Hope you enjoy them! -Awen