Chapter 67 – The ultimate sacrifice
As if Diego had psychic powers, someone banged at the tavern's door shortly after he said something was about to happen.
"Shit. That's probably the alcalde."
His fears got confirmed when they heard the shouting in the other room.
This is it, he'll find me here now, he thought when he heard the distinctive noise the chest of drawers did when moved across the floor, not knowing what to do. Then, before anybody tried to open that door, they heard Victoria and the alcalde going downstairs, and how they screamed at the plaza.
Diego wanted to look through the window with Felipe, but he didn't dare, because he didn't want to be spotted, and because he doubted he could stand by it long enough.
I knew it, he thought when he heard his cousin's voice at the plaza. I knew he'd try to kill the alcalde today. When he heard the gunshot and Esteban's cry, he could not stand it any longer.
"He hit his arm only. He is alive, don't worry," Felipe signed quickly.
"Help me to the window, please. I have to see what's going on!"
Felipe helped him to get up, and stayed by him, supporting most on his weight while Diego leaned on the windowsill.
ZZZ
"No!" Victoria cried, trying to reach Esteban, but the alcalde kept holding onto her.
"Argh! You, bastard!" Esteban cried, taking a hand to his left upper arm, while writhing in agony on the ground. This time, it wasn't just a superficial through-hole in the muscle; the wound was deep, and he could hardly move the arm due to the unbearable pain. He feared the bullet had smashed the bone in pieces, but at least it wasn't the right one, his fighting arm. He knew he probably didn't have much time left, and he had to move fast, so he chose to ignore the throbbing pain of that new wound, as well as the pain on his side and on his back.
He took a deep breath and got on his knees then, passing is left hand in between two buttons of his tight waistcoat to hold the injured, and now useless, bleeding arm still and bent, Napoleon-style, and then got on his feet, rising up like a phoenix, with the rage and hatred helping him to focus and forget about the pain and everything else. He stumbled when he got up, but he got himself upright and unsheathed his sword slowly, with a jarring, sinister noise. He only had one concern: to kill that man. His ultimate goal before he dropped dead, because it didn't matter to him anymore.
"Let her go and fight with me, man to man," he said, looking dead serious, stepping unsteadily towards Ramón, as a damaged, but still scary, Angel of Death. "Don't hide behind a woman like the coward you are!"
People gathered at the plaza to watch the unusual scene, expectant, because they didn't want to miss this fight. A loud murmur was taking form, and the word that resonated the most was coward.
"Esteban, no!" Don Alejandro said, advancing through the crowd to the front row.
"Lancers! Arrest this man!" Ramón shouted, dropping his empty gun. Victoria managed to bite his hand then, and hit his face with the bulky cast. When he let go of her, she ran away from him, aimlessly, until she spotted Don Alejandro stepping out of the crowd. He called her and she landed in his arms.
"What's going on? What is he doing?" Don Alejandro asked, while trying to soothe Victoria.
"I don't know. He's crazy! They both are!" she said, afraid to look, burying her face on the old don's chest.
"Alcalde, you tried to kill me with the poisoned dagger that killed Don Luis, but, fortunately for me, it didn't have much poison left on it or I would be dead by now. I'm really fed up of your devious ways. Forget about the lancers. Get your sword and we'll sort out our differences like men. You and me. Now, and forever." Esteban walked another couple of steps towards Ramón, with his sword up, while the alcalde stepped back, keeping the distance.
"Lancers! Arrest this man I said!" the alcalde ordered again, but none of the soldiers moved a finger. They all looked at Mendoza for instructions, and the sergeant shook his head. "He killed Carlos Berlanga in cold blood, shooting him on the back!"
"He was about to slice Zorro with one of your sabres, and then me. I could do nothing else but shoot."
"So, by your own admission, you are not only a murderer, but Zorro's accomplice. This only gets better!"
"Zorro was fighting three men at once, and it wasn't fair. I killed Carlos Berlanga in self-defence. What is your excuse for killing the third man from Madrid? He took a direct him on his chest, and you shot him."
"You were about to kill that man too. It was an accident: I shoot you, but Zorro got on the way and I hit that man's chest instead."
"That's a lie! I was about to let that man walk free because he was repentant, and he promised not to interfere ever again in any matter concerning the Duke of Cádiz. Now, get your sword and defend yourself or I'll stab you all the same!" Ramón didn't move, so Esteban advanced another couple of steps towards him. "Alcalde, are you a man or a chicken?"
Everybody laughed out loud then, to release some tension.
"A chicken!" someone in the crowd cried, and the nervous laughter increased.
"I should be an easy target for you now, thanks to the unjustified beating I got from those men, because I have several broken ribs, which you kindly sunk close to my liver, and you just shot my arm. On top of that, I can hardly see with my left black eye, and I could start seizuring at any moment. You can save the tax payers some money in trials and executions: be a man, and get your sword to put me out of my misery. After all, you have been trying to kill me one way or another since I arrived at this pueblo."
"All right, you asked for it! Prepare to die!" the alcalde said, unsheathing his sword, charging against Esteban almost immediately.
In his condition, now even worse with a bullet in his arm, Esteban struggled to keep him at bay. The last time they fought he only suffered from a wound in his leg, much better in comparison, and now, despite the further training with Zorro, he was in deep trouble. However, he still had enough strength and celerity to parry the attacks more of less efficiently, frustrating the alcalde when he realized he would not get rid of him as easily as he thought.
ZZZ
From the windowsill, feeling impotent and unable to help, Diego watched with bated breath while the alcalde attacked his injured cousin relentlessly, without mercy. For the way he carried his body, he could only imagine Esteban's agony. He had his bleeding, left arm tucked away in the waistcoat, close to his abdomen, trying not to move it at all, and for this reason his equilibrium got greatly affected, sometimes swaying to the sides, having to relay too much on his footing to keep his balance, but he wasn't fast enough on his feet for that. Also, it was obvious he was stretching his aching right flank too much while using the sword with that hand, so he kept the sword closer to his body than he normally would, limiting the efficacy of his actions.
Diego admired his grit and determination, but he could not see that fight ending well, until one time, by using one of Zorro's bold moves, Esteban managed to disarm the alcalde from below after a parry.
Yes! Diego thought, delighted, but his joy was short-lived. Esteban lost his footing after that move and fell on his knees, struggling to get back up immediately to finish the fight. The alcalde took advantage of this to get out of the way, recovering his sword from the ground.
"Come on, get up," Diego whispered. "Get up, please."
As if he could hear him, Esteban made an apparent titanic effort and stood up, looking briefly in the direction of the window, spotting him. The alcalde followed his gaze then, and he also spotted Diego at the window.
"What the…?" Ramón said, suddenly putting two and two together.
Esteban lunged at him then, disregarding his own safety, not covering his lines, in a hit-or-die approach.
ZZZ
While on his knees, Esteban suddenly felt the familiar, unsettling feeling that preceded an incoming seizure. He looked up briefly towards the tavern and saw Diego's distinctive figure by the window in the upper floor. He hesitated, because he knew there was only one way to win that swordfight in the short amount of time he had left before he would drop to the ground seizuring, but, when his adversary also spotted Diego, recognizing him, his rage made Esteban thrust forward in a bold, unexpected move that caught the alcalde by surprise. Ramón extended his arm at the last moment, shooting his sword forward in a desperate attempt to stop him, and Esteban impaled himself against it while sinking his own blade deep into the alcalde's chest, right on his heart, through the "Z" his cousin had branded on his skin. Ramón dropped dead almost immediately, while Esteban fell to the ground with the alcalde's sword running through his body, just above his injured arm.
ZZZ
"Nooo!" Diego cried, while still leaning on the windowsill, shocked. His legs gave weight then and he dropped down to the floor in slow motion, incredulous, sliding his upper body along the wall. No, Esteban. No! Why? Why?!
But he knew perfectly well the reason why his cousin had done that, and he would probably had done the same in his position. Esteban had realized he was about to have a fit, and if that was the case he knew he was dead already. The only possible way he had seen to get rid of the alcalde for good was thrusting forward right then, disregarding his own safety.
From that position, crying with his hands covering his face while leaning on the wall, he listened to the commotion which ensued at the plaza. Among the cries, he identified Victoria's and his father's, who had both rushed to Esteban's side.
"No! Noooo!"
ZZZ
Victoria kneeled down and lifted Esteban's limp head gently, supporting him on her lap. Don Alejandro and Doctor Hernández had also run to his side, concentrating on the wound.
"Mierda," the doctor said when he examined the wound closer. The blade had followed an ascending trajectory, probably damaging the stomach, the liver, the diaphragm, and the lungs, and there was nothing anybody could do for him.
"Why have you done this? There was no need! No need at all!" Victoria cried.
Esteban lifted his right hand slowly to reach her face, and caressed it gently while she cried.
"Don't cry… my dear," he whispered, once again struggling to breathe and speak at the same time. "Ramón can't bother you no more… You're free now… Marry Diego… Be happy." His hand dropped back to his side, and Victoria grabbed it anxiously.
"Don't go, please! Stay with me!"
He smiled at her but didn't say anything else, lacking the strength, and he got quiet and limp, like a candle burning out.
The wound was bleeding profusely around the blade, but the doctor didn't dare pulling the sword out. He took the left hand off the waistcoat instead, and Esteban flinched when he forced the injured arm out of the way, to a side. With that gentle movement, the doctor realized the bone was annihilated by the bullet, and that arm could be beyond repair. If by a miracle Esteban could survive that stabbing wound, he would probably need to amputate that arm at the shoulder.
Esteban's face looked at peace when he fell unconscious then, to never wake up again. When he started convulsing shortly after, the sword trembled with his body, both shaking together until the doctor pulled it out with a swift movement. After that, Esteban inevitably bled to death in seconds while seizuring, despite the desperate attempts of the doctor and Don Alejandro to stop the haemorrhage.
In the end, Esteban stopped shaking and lay still, pale as a sheet, with his hazel eyes wide opened, looking at the infinity. Padre Benítez, also by his side now, closed his eyes gently and said a prayer while Don Alejandro and Victoria embraced tightly, trying to comfort each other while crying their hearts out.
ZZZZZ
AN – Once again, bloody Stephen King and his evil piece of advice: "kill your darlings." If you had read my trilogy and my other A.N at the end of it, you should have known what was coming when I used that dangerous term for Esteban: my darling.
And, that's why I liked my darling Esteban so much all the way along this story, whatever idiotic manner I made him behave, because I knew he was the unsung hero of this tale. I knew from the very beginning of this story he would sacrifice himself for D/V at the end. Yes, it was planned all along, not a last-minute idea. As usual, when I started writing this monster, I had the start and the end of the story, and all the middle part kind of wrote itself, surprising me sometimes, making me go in tangents and pursuing subplots that stretched the story a little bit too long, much longer than anticipated. And it took too long to write it, over a year, specially because I dwelled so much this time in the angst, and the feelings of all the characters, and the interactions between them. That, and my liking for "showing, not telling", using dialogue for almost everything, bumped the word count a lot. Sorry.
I really liked this guy, despite some readers hating him for getting on the way of our all-time favourite, D/V pairing, as I tried to make him a bit obnoxious and a pain in the arse sometimes, for dramatic purposes. But I wouldn't mind grabbing him for myself, you know? Victoria could keep Diego, and I could keep Esteban. And he would be grateful when I treated all his injuries every time he did something stupid, as well as treating his fits as I do with the epileptic dogs, hahahaha.
I'm crying in a corner now, like Victoria would do during one of her breakdowns. And you should do the same. Sniff. Someone bring me a hankie. Buaaaa huaaaaa (or better still, bring me Diego to cry on his chest… heeeeee)
(This is not finished yet. I must tie up some loose ends, for your expected HEA, so please, keep reading. Thanks.)