Lions of the Sea

3

Diego Castillano yanked the library door open and stormed into the main hall as lightning glared in the dark room. There was no one there. A cold claw clutched at his heart as he hurried toward the bedrooms hall. He'd left that door open and now it was closed. He didn't want to even consider that Manuel had dared to go that way.

But he never made it to the corridor. He'd hardly taken five steps when a shadow came out of nowhere to cut him off. He stopped with a shaky sigh as the tip of a sword glinted before him. For a moment he could only feel relief. Manuel was there in front of him and his son was safe.

"The pistols, Diego," the corsair said softly, taking a step that Diego Castillano retreated.

Lightning stroke near the house and the glare lit up the man clad in black. The following thunder seemed to shake the house from its foundations. Diego Castillano raised his hands a little and leaned in slowly to drop the pistols on the floor. Manuel kicked the guns away from his rival.

"Looks like you've bought some nice blades since I last was here," he said, in a conversational way that added to the storm to make it all feel like a surreal nightmare. "Have you learned to use them, too? The thugs you set in the garden sure didn't."

Diego Castillano held his eyes without a word. He needed to calm down if he expected to have the slightest chance to get out of there alive. The Ghost nodded toward the panoplies on the wall, across the hall.

"Go pick one. I'll give you the chance you denied to my family: a fair fight."

Diego Castillano moved sideways toward the panoply, not daring to turn his back on the corsair. And he almost chuckled. A fair fight. Against such a lethal swordsman as people said Manuel was. At least he still had the misericorde in his sash, under his shirt. However, that pause surprised him. Manuel had never done that before.

"Have you learned nothing on your pirate life?" he asked, trying to sound calm. "How come you still blame me for the death of your father and brothers?" He had no choice but look away to grab a sword from the panoply. "You know I've never been a good shot. And I had only one harquebus. How do you think I managed to kill three men with only one poorly-aimed shot?"

He jolted back when he heard Manuel's soft, scornful chuckle only one step behind him.

"Do you really think I'm going to kill you over a harquebus shot? That I don't know what actually transpired that night?" the corsair asked, in that casual way that made him want to scream out of sheer terror.

He grabbed a sword from the array and wielded it with a shaky hand.

"Come, look me in the eyes. Show your face for a change."

If there was something Diego Castillano didn't want to do, that was meeting Manuel's eyes. The corsair kept his sword pointing down, only a couple of yards away, and tilted his head a little, studying him in the intermittent glare of lightning.

"That day you told your old man what my father and the others were plotting, and he had enough time to warn the Hidalgo," Manuel said, like explaining something to a slow child. "And even so, you still had one chance left to make up for your big mouth." He shook his head with disdain. "But you didn't take it. You belonged with us, yet you chose to follow your father and your uncle. You sided with the Hidalgo against your people. Maybe you killed one of my brothers, or my father, or none. But you betrayed us all that night. And your betrayal cost so much more than the blood you willingly helped to shed."

Diego Castillano tried to look away. The Ghost's blade whistled up to touch his cheek.

"Look at me, I said," the corsair whispered, his voice suddenly loaded with resentment. "Tonight you're facing your every last sin, whether you want it or not." He waited until Diego Castillano looked up at him again. "Maybe you don't know it, for you fled Los Encinos in the dead of night like a thief and never came back. But your treason improved your old man's position among the farmers, and he grew greedy. He set eyes on our lands. And on my mother. The both of us had trouble working the land all by ourselves, and the Hidalgo threatened to throw us out. So that son of a bitch you had for a father came to see my mother. He offered to hire hands for us if my mother became his mistress. And when she refused, he used his new position as the Hidalgo's earpiece to get us kicked out and size our land."

Diego Castillano stiffened when Manuel's sword rested on his chest.

"We were deprived of everything, thrown out to the roads to beg our living, feeding on moldy crusts every two or three days. Hunger and cold killed my mother two years later." Diego Castillano frowned and the Ghost flashed another scornful smirk. "You thought my beggar rags were a disguise to get to you in Cadiz."

Another chill ran down Diego Castillano's back, realizing Manuel had more reasons to hate him than he'd ever thought. And his hate was so much deeper.

The Ghost touched Diego Castillano's blade with his. "On guard now, Diego. Let's put an end to this. Only one of us is walking out of here alive."

Diego Castillano breathed deep and took a few steps back. He was raising his sword when lightning showed him where his pistols were. He set his jaw. It was no time for honor and bravery. A fair fight wouldn't keep him alive, so he was willing to take any chance to get the upper hand.

The Ghost stepped back as well and chose an open guard. He met Diego Castillano's eyes and nodded, to let him know he had the first move.

Diego Castillano swung down as hard as he could and charged against Manuel, trying to throw him down. But the corsair pushed him back. Diego Castillano felt the burn of a cut along his left arm and he didn't pause to catch his breath. He charged again. And the corsair repelled him again.

"You can't play fair even when your life depends on it," Manuel growled.

Diego Castillano tried to draw the misericorde, but he never got to do it. He knew he was lucky to deflect Manuel's stab aimed for his heart. From then on, the Ghost rained blows and stabs on him. Soon his clothes were ripped in a dozen different spots. The clatter of the blades filled the hall, echoing all over the house. Diego Castillano moved backwards, panting and sweating. He needed to reach one of the pistols, because he wouldn't last two minutes longer like that.

But the corsair saw through his attempt. "You bloody traitor!" he thundered, furious.

He charged once more, and after a couple of tries, he sunk his sword in his rival's chest. He yanked it free, letting blood gush out from the open wound. Diego Castillano crumbled down at his feet, shaking in dying tremors.

"Father!"

The desperate cry made the Ghost spin around in surprise. The door to the hall he himself had closed was wide open, and he saw a blond boy standing there. Somebody else showed behind the boy. A young woman, a girl, who stopped the boy from running to his father. A gunshot cracked. Manuel felt the bullet pierce through from his back, under his ribs. The burning path it tore inside of him told him he was doomed.

The shot caused a commotion behind the door to the kitchen. The corsair tried to turn to it. Surely his men were fighting the servants to get to him. The boy kept screaming and the girl struggled to hold him back. A bloody veil blurred Manuel's eyes and his knees buckled. The sword slipped from his fingers. He collapsed face to face with Diego Castillano, only a step away from him. He saw the blood still gushing from the other man's chest and heard his gurgling breathing. He met his eyes for the last time.

He didn't hear any noises far or near anymore. An odd silence had fallen upon him. The rest of the room, the rest of God's Creation had vanished. Then he felt the light weight on his hand. He managed to move his head to look and found Diego Castillano's hand covering his.

"Ma— Manuel..." he heard the man mutter, choking on his own blood.

He couldn't reply. Not anymore. Air hardly reached his chest. He was only able to blink. Diego Castillano's fingers pressed his hand a moment longer.

Manuel felt a calm he'd never felt before. There was no more pain. There was no more rage. He had one stray thought for his wife and his daughter, his little pearl. Wan Claup would watch over them.

Then Diego Castillano's hand loosened in his. And Manuel Velazquez, the Ghost, closed his eyes and breathed his last breath.