THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 14/18
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Sat, 3 Mar 2001 09:28:56 -0500
THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 14/18
Chapter 14
They had only been riding a short time, but Mariaelena could tell by
glancing sidelong at Goliath that his rider, Corazon Negro, was not as calm
as he outwardly appeared, looking all around him, apparently dissatisfied.
The stallion pranced, danced, and tried to shake loose into a gallop more
than once, forcing the other riders to give him a wide berth.
"Remember, Corazon Negro, *you* are in charge, not the horse," Paco urged
him, riding up beside the high-strung animal. "Use the reins--don't give him
so much freedom, or he'll buck you off."
It was like a signal to the horse, who chose that moment to rise up
slightly, then again, forcing the Aztec to grip with his knees and hang on.
His weapon, wrapped in several layers of thick hide and tied to the front of
his boat saddle by three knots, was hanging just in front of his right knee,
and he pushed it forward and out of his way as he leaned forward over the
horse's back.
The warrior rubbed Goliath's neck gently, trying to calm the animal. "Be
still, Icnihtle*. I know ... I feel it too, but you have nothing to fear
from me," he murmured, just loudly enough for Mariaelena to make out.
Mariaelena was unhappy about Goliath's strong reaction. The Indio* Immortal
must truly be worried, and that in turn worried her. And now her horse,
Samson, was beginning to shift and try to buck. Maybe going out riding had
been a mistake. Maybe they should go back. Fighting to keep her mount in
control, she made her decision, then started to give the order to go home.
Instead she turned her head with everyone else when the eagle-eyed Fulgencio
spotted them first and pointed into the western sky, yelling, "Look!"
Mariaelena saw them, hanging in the sky, barely moving, black wings
outspread like the angels of death they represented. There were only two of
them, but she knew there would be more on the ground, and as she watched,
the pair grew to four, then five birds. She crossed herself.
"!Buitres*!" Paco spat out.
And the vultures weren't hovering over small game, like a rabbit, she
thought. This was a large dead animal--one of the longhorn cattle, perhaps a
nandu*, or a wild horse. Or a man. Without a word, the five riders turned
their horses toward the large, dead thing on the plain.
It took them quite some time to arrive at the body, but they could see it
from a distance. It was a man. They could clearly see the clothes, but it
was Fulgencio again who first realized who it was. "A priest!" he choked.
"It's Padre ... Teodoro." And worse--there was another corpse, a naked man,
next to the priest. Dead and naked too.
Mariaelena felt a frisson overtake her, and Paco crossed himself. As they
came closer to the stand of trees by the river, the horses caught the scent
of death and began to fight their riders, and she could see out of the
corner of her eye Goliath rearing up in panic, with the Aztec just barely
clinging on. "The blood is scaring him!" she yelled, struggling as she tried
to get off Samson. "Dismount!" she ordered, while she did the same. Samson
ran off, neighing angrily.
Mariaelena watched Corazon Negro wait for an opportunity, until Goliath's
four feet were on the ground, good, then slip off the horse's right side.
And when his feet hit the ground he somehow had his weapon, that club of
his, the Maquahuitl*, in his right hand, and was unwrapping it.
And she looked again and saw why the Indio* was arming himself. Because the
priest had not ridden out here and simply died of old age. And she realized
that the worst thing was not the dead priest, lying on his stomach on the
grass, with a large, bald bird, its beak stained in red, squawking and
flying off him as they approached. It was the fact that the man lying on his
back naked, next to the priest, was Ari, an adolescent boy from the rancho*.
Mariaelena swallowed her bile as Paco exclaimed, "!Dios! !Ari!"
Aristides Onioco was the old man's grand-nephew or something, Mariaelena
knew. In fact, most of the Indios* at the rancho* were members of the Onioco
family.
The old man jumped from his horse, pulling a blanket from behind his saddle
and throwing it over the boy, but not covering his face. Surely he was dead,
Mariaelena thought. The vultures had been feeding on him. Surely Paco should
go ahead and cover the boy's face. Her vision went grey, and she leaned
forward, gripping her knees. It took her a minute of deep breathing to come
back to her senses, to do what had to be done, to see to the dead.
Meanwhile, Fulgencio had dismounted to check the priest. Reins were tossed
to the third rider, Joselito, who remained on his own horse as he struggled
to keep all the horses from panicking.
After the first angry glance, Corazon Negro had taken his eyes off the
bodies and trained them on the group of trees by the river. If this were a
trap, and what a good one it was--he had to stop thinking about trees and
traps and put all his concentration on getting off the frightened horse
underneath him, but when he finally dismounted, releasing Goliath to go as
he willed, the Aztec made sure he had his weapon well in hand.
He sensed a new Immortal at the exact same moment he saw the boy, Joselito,
who was holding the reins, fall of his horse like a lump of lead, the shot
having blown out all of his head above his left eye. That noise was all the
horses needed to panic completely, scattering, and as Goliath ran he saw
Mariaelena leap aside to safety. "Down! Get down!" Corazon Negro called out.
Paco, who had been kneeling over his dead kinsman, stood as the sound of the
shot echoed all around them. He took a pistol out of his belt, looking for a
target.
"Get down, hombre*!" Corazon Negro yelled again at the old man.
"Senorita, get away!" Paco yelled at Mariaelena; but at the same moment he
fell, clutching his chest, as a musket ball exploded into him. He cried out,
adding to the confusion.
The warrior twirled to his right, to the trees, and saw in the area around
them, now cleared of horseflesh, two Spaniards riding towards them, pistols
aimed at them, on two beautiful white stallions. He recognized the lying Don
Juan Pedro Carabas immediately--but the other Spaniard was also ... The
words of the Machi*, the Mapuche priestess, whipped through his head: a
great evil from the east, divided in two. Not one Immortal. Not one Immortal
to protect Black Flower, Curi-Rayen, Mariaelena, from. Two Immortals. But
she could still get away. "Mariaelena! Get on a horse and ride! Get out of
here, now!" he ordered her.
"No!" he heard her yell, just as two more shots rang out. The criollo* that
Fulgencio had been chasing and about to remount screamed, and the boy jumped
out of the way as the wounded animal almost fell on him. Still, he reached
for the stock of his musket, which was still in the saddle, and pulled his
weapon loose as Elena brought a pistol out of her pants pocket and tried to
knock the Spaniard off his horse. She missed. An instant later Fulgencio,
who had just brought the musket to his shoulder, cried out as a ton of
Lipizaner, complete with a dark rider yelling an old battle cry, rode him
down. The horse that had been shot managed to pull himself to his feet and
run away, but Fulgencio could only lie on the ground moaning.
Corazon Negro winced for Fulgencio; at the same time the warrior felt a
pistol ball caress his hair. So they'd been planning to wound him, then
behead him. The enemy had planned and executed their trap very nicely. Two
muskets and two pistols; three effective shots. The mortals were out of the
way, one of them certainly dead, he didn't know about Paco, and Fulgencio
... But he couldn't think about them now. He prayed the Spaniards had no
other guns, for example, to shoot Curi-Rayen. Who, by the way, had refused
to run as he and Paco had both ordered her.
The two Spaniards put their pistols away and rode up to the only two still
left standing: Mariaelena, who had by now drawn her sword, and Corazon
Negro. The Spaniards were between them and the trees, and the Indio* would
not leave her side in any case. So he tried to stand in front of her,
shielding her, but instead she came to stand by his side, facing their
common enemies together.
Raising the hilt of her sword, where it formed a cross, to her lips, she
murmured, "!Ayudame, Dios mio!*." She was an Immortal, and she was going to
fight. Her warm, strong body beside him sent a thrill through him, and
Corazon Negro felt a surge of pride and love. Although he wanted her safe
above all else, and wished she had escaped, he realized he had expected
nothing less from her.
As the Spanish Immortals dismounted, Paco, who had pulled himself to his
knees, gasped and yelled, "!Canallas*!" He fired, but his shot went wide,
and he collapsed face forward on the grass, still holding the pistol. The
Spaniards spared Paco a brief glance, then walked toward Corazon Negro and
Mariaelena.
The Aztec noticed their horses did not shy away from the blood. Probably
used to the smell, he thought. He and Mariaelena waited. Damn--they had two
other pistols in their belts! Furious and frightened for her, his heart
pounding in his chest and his weapon gripped firmly in both hands, Corazon
Negro got himself ready to kill ... and die if necessary.
"Well--now that we've gotten rid of these pesky mortals, allow me to
introduce myself--for real this time," the man who had called himself Don
Juan said, bowing again without taking his dark, intelligent eyes of his
opponents. "I am Don Lucas Munoz de Magana. This is my brother, Don Carlos.
Perhaps our mutual ..." he paused, an amused look in his eyes, "... father,
Don Alvaro Duran y Agramonte, has done us the honor of mentioning us in
passing," he said to Mariaelena.
Corazon Negro felt Curi-Rayen tense beside him when the man said, "father,"
but her outward reaction was calm.
"My father has never bothered to mention you; he wouldn't think that highly
of cowards who shoot mortals from ambush," she stated. "And who kill men of
God!" She couldn't believe what they'd done--shot Paco, ridden down
Fulgencio. And the priest!
"That man of God was a man of idiocy, and "our" father should have warned
you that not all of us are so careful of these mortals. The Indios* are just
not important," Don Lucas said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
"But you are important." He looked her up and down, not bothering this time
to hide his lust. "Yes; the old man always liked them young, spirited, and
strong. We'll see what pleasure you can give us, too, before we behead you."
Although she felt sick and afraid, she knew she had to concentrate, and
bluff him if possible. This, Don Alvaro had taught her, was the game of
words, the mind game which came before the actual duel--and which could
affect its outcome. "Even animals do not fuck their own offspring," she
sneered. "But apparently you would, Don Lucas, and therefore think my father
would as well," she retorted. "I suggest less talking,"--at this she sunk
into an en guarde position, sword held out in front of her, elbow into her
side, the other arm up and behind her head--"and more dying."
Don Carlos pulled the second pistol out of his belt and pointed it at
Curi-Rayen, standing too far away for Corazon Negro to have any hope of
reaching him. "Well, if the old bastard wasted such ... pulchritude ... then
we shall have to make up for his loss. Get on your knees, girl," he ordered
roughly. His eyes were shining, full of lust and completely merciless.
"Are you that afraid to fight me? I'm just a woman, but I guess I have
bigger cojones* than you," she said angrily. But she was also scared, she
was terrified, and hoped she was hiding it from these murderous Spanish
bastards.
The Aztec, who had been listening to her voice for four days now, heard a
touch of fear there, too; but she hadn't fallen to her knees, as Don Carlos
had ordered her--even with a pistol pointed at her. She was going to stay on
her feet. Corazon Negro was also calculating their chances. He could see how
easily the brothers stood, how they held their blades with confidence. If he
wanted Curi-Rayen to survive, he would have to fight his best fight. And so
would she. But if they simply shot her, he would have no chance against the
both of them. Nor would she. In spite of the warning of the prophecy and of
all his best efforts, she would die. He could feel the failure like a fire
in his belly, a sour taste in his mouth.
Laughing, Don Carlos cocked the hammer back and pulled the trigger--but the
pistol was empty. Thinking it was the funniest joke in the world, he put the
pistol back in his belt and, still chuckling, drew a rapier. "I know we
agreed you should have her first, brother. Shall I disarm her for you while
you deal with the savage?"
"Yes. Finish her off and come help me with this--cabecita negra*," he said
contemptuously, pointing with his rapier at Corazon Negro. And be careful of
the black bitch--she is siniestra*. Maybe she'll be in league with the devil
and defeat you," Don Lucas teased, not at all superstitious, and knowing
that Carlitos would have little trouble with the girl. But even as he spoke,
Don Lucas only took his eyes off Corazon Negro's glittering black ones only
long enough to examine the weapon his enemy held, a kind he'd never seen
before. It was a club, as he'd suspected, the length of a man's arm, made of
some sort of dark hardwood--and encrusted with shards of a black rock.
Ebony, he guessed. The triangular-shaped rocks were sharp enough to cut a
man to pieces, no question, and as the Indio* warrior suddenly rushed at
him, screaming some battle wild battle cry, Don Lucas raised his sword, his
usual confidence shaken just a little.
Their weapons struck together. Although Corazon Negro's Maquahuitl* was made
of wood, Don Lucas immediately realized it would easily withstand any direct
attack from his sword. In fact, he'd have to deflect when he parried--a
direct hit from that damned club might break his sword outright--and he'd
have to make sure his blade didn't get caught up in those sharp rocks. But
he was an expert swordsman, and he'd just simply out-finesse the savage,
ending this duel as soon as possible. That would be his best chance of
victory.
The Aztec retreated and Don Lucas advanced. Good; no point tripping on the
bodies--dead or alive. He attacked again, and after a moment the Indio*
asked him, "Why do you hate Don Alvaro so much? Because he knew you're just
murdering bastards, who were not good enough for a man of honor?"
"You are an animal--what do you know of honor?" Don Lucas snarled, trying to
get inside the Aztec's guard and failing, !carajo*! Don Lucas knew he was an
excellent esgrimidor*, but the Indio* knew how to use his damn club, too,
wielding it like a two-hander, moving it fluidly from side to side, up and
down, making an almost impenetrable shield and attacking without pause.
Unfortunately, Don Lucas was not at his best fighting one on one. If only
his brother could join him, they'd finish off the Indio* right away. He took
a quick glance and saw that the bitch was causing some problems for Carlos.
And Carlos, as usual, was not handling it well.
"!India asquerosa*!" Don Carlos cried out. "Damn you--I'll cut you to
pieces!" The whore had good stamina, and Don Alvaro had done a good job
training her, too. He could tell he was pushing her to her limits, but he
hated left-handed fighters! And he particularly hated fighting without his
brother, against a single opponent. She got past his guard yet again,
slicing into his upper shoulder--making him howl in pain and anger. He was
surprised, frustrated, angry, and he knew this wasn't good. He had to finish
her or he might just make a mistake.
They were close, straining against each other, their faces almost
touching--she was probably the strongest woman he'd ever met. !Carajo*! "I'm
going to kill you, puta*! I'm going to kill you, then fuck your little black
ass!" he threatened. Mariaelena head-butted him, and he heard the crunch of
bone as his nose broke. He put his hand to his face--
Damn; his guard was down! But he got lucky--one of the fucking Indios* on
the ground was still alive, and he moaned near her. She called out a name,
glancing down. He thrust at her chest, but the little bitch managed to parry
his stroke at the last minute.
"!Carajo*!" Don Carlos howled in frustration again. "Now you die!" Without
pause, he attacked her once more.
Don Lucas and his opponent had stopped speaking, concentrating only on
finding a weakness or forcing a mistake. The Aztec twisted to his left,
parrying yet another quick series of thrusts from Don Lucas. The savage
quickly raised his club toward Don Lucas' neck. The Spaniard managed to
deflect the wooden weapon with his rapier, but the upswing still managed to
shave off most of Don Lucas' ear. It hung from his head, bleeding copiously.
The side of his head was on fire, but Don Lucas refused to make a noise. He
paused in his attack, breathing heavily, and touched his hanging ear while
staring at his opponent. Smiling devilishly, he said calmly, "Very well,
dog. You've drawn first blood."
"I'll kill you one piece at a time if I have to," Corazon Negro panted
Not too far away, Don Carlos cried out, "You don't have a chance, bitch!" as
the infuriating whore sliced into his right shoulder. Again. His arm felt
numb, so he pulled back, hiding his weakness and deliberately drawing her
in, and she fell into his trap, making the classic mistake: an
overconfident, overextended lunge. Wonderful. Don Carlos stepped out of the
way and, grasping his rapier with both hands, cut into her side as she
sailed past him. He could have beheaded her, but he far preferred living
women to dead ones.
Meanwhile, Don Lucas realized he had to finish quickly. The damned Indio*
was strong and had enough stamina to last several minutes more, but Don
Lucas was starting to doubt his own endurance. Only once, his first time,
had he had fought alone against another Immortal, and he was running out of
tricks. Time to bring out another weapon.
As Corazon Negro attacked once more, Don Lucas barely managed to parry, then
tried to reach for the pistol at his belt, but the animal somehow kicked it
out of the Spaniard's hand. Don Lucas merely smiled grimly, thrusting
expertly and cutting into his enemy's left shoulder while the savage was off
balance. Corazon Negro took a step back, hissing in pain, giving the Don a
chance to pull out a hidden silver knife and rush forward, burying it in his
opponent's belly. He twisted it, first one way and then the other, while the
fucking Indio* roared in pain. Leaving the knife where it was, Don Lucas hit
Corazon Negro's face with the hilt of his rapier, a series of three quick
jabs.
He had felt his knife blade separate the Aztec's entrails. Before the savage
could recover, he kicked his enemy in the ribs, hearing the crunch of bones,
pushing the knife in until it almost disappeared inside Corazon Negro's
body. He doubled over in agony.
At about the same time, the India* daughter of Don Alvaro had screamed when
Don Carlos had sliced into her side--the nicest sound he'd heard all day!
She was desperate now, and he could see the pain on her face, but she'd
still somehow managed to swing back around, parrying his killing thrust from
behind and even trying to decapitate him with a high slice. No matter. Her
movements were slow--she was badly hurt now. He had her.
Don Carlos grabbed her left hand, twisted the sword out of her grasp, and
punched her with the hilt of his rapier in the face, again and again, until
it was a bloody pulp. Finally she fell. "Now we're even, bitch!" he spat
out, throwing her down.
Out of the corner of his eye, Don Carlos caught his brother's triumph as Don
Lucas raised his sword above his head for the killing blow. Don Carlos
smiled--his brother didn't need help, so he could give all his attention to
the whore. She was on her back on the dirt at his feet where she belonged,
making little pained sounds with every short breath, semi-conscious. He
raised his own sword, intending to impale her onto the ground, then cut off
her pants and rape her while she writhed underneath him. It was a technique
he'd used before, and while he could only do it once to a mortal woman, he
could indulge himself as many times as he liked with this one. "Ahora es
cuando es ...,*" he sang, smiling even more broadly as he twirled his sword
in his hand, pointed it down, and raised it for the killing blow.
Notes & translations:
!Ayudame, Dios mio! (Spanish): help me, my God
!canallas! (Spanish): bastards!
cojones (Spanish): testicles, synonymous with courage
cabecita negra (Spanish): black head, insulting term given to the dark Indio
and mestizos by the white Spaniards
siniestra (Spanish): left-handed
esgrimidor (Spanish): master fencer
!India* asquerosa! (Spanish): Filthy Indian!
!carajo! (Spanish): double-damn
puta (Spanish): whore
ahora es cuando es (Spanish): this is it; the time has come