FicWad

The kidnappers had been riding for a quarter of an hour before Zorro joined them: they had ridden in no haste, since they didn't think they were being immediately followed, and also because they had been covering and erasing their tracks.

But Zorro had seen what direction they had taken when they left, so he just had to follow this path and then spot here and there a hoof print or any clue that they didn't fully took care of in their unplanned new retreat and relative hurry to find a new temporary bivouac: some broken twigs on a bush, some too evident trace of sweeping on the dirt path, intended to hide the prints left by horseshoes, some sideway narrow path that seemed to have been cleared or enlarged very recently...

And here they were: the four men on their four mounts, with the tied-up child straddling the second horse and secured by the rider's right arm firmly encircling her.

The first bandido, the gang leader, was leading the march with a pistol in his hand, probably in case something unpleasant for them showed up ahead. The second one, as said before, was in charge of their little but precious hostage. The third one too was holding a gun, and the last one was half-turned back, busy watching the erasing of their hoof prints by a bunch of small branches, twigs and dry wild grasses bound together in a makeshift broom tied to his mount's tail. The horse was sweeping it from side to side, and the man had another branch of twigs with dried leaves in his hand with which he was furthering the covering of their tacks when necessary, making the dust of the ground look more natural whenever the horse was leaving too much of a trail behind them.

Zorro quickly assessed the situation: four men advancing slowly, one busy looking back and down, two armed, one holding a hostage.

He couldn't attack from front, for fear the second man might harm the little girl while he was busy fighting the first one. Or he could very well take a bullet by the third man...

He couldn't attack from either side: the two armed men would have fired at him before he reached them, or would have harmed the girl.

The only remaining possible course of action was to attack from behind, even though he was usually rather reluctant to do so: it lacked elegance, courage, and generally speaking, chivalry, but sometimes safety and wisdom commanded over just showing off, so he resorted to this undignified strategy.

He had to discreetly neutralize the last two men one by one, unnoticed by the other bandits, so that he can then either reach the child, snatch her from her kidnappers and gallop away with her, or fight and disarm quickly enough the last two men.

And he started to do just that. The last bandit got down his mount to better mask their change of direction when at a crossroads they took a narrow side path meandering up the hills. The man arranged the bushes along the main road so that the entry of the path wasn't visible, or at least didn't appear to have recently been ridden through. Zorro jut made the most of him being isolated and off guard to quickly and silently neutralise him, taking the time to gag him with his own scarf and to tie his hands and feet with the bridles of his own saddle.

Now he had to act before the three other men noticed their accomplice's absence was too long for just setting and checking the camouflage.

As silently as before, he led Tornado up to just behind the third bandit, who was a bit too much on alert for his liking. He'd had to be fast, he knew that.

But 'more haste, less speed', according to the old saying. And he also remembered Emperor Augustus and the Medicis: 'make haste slowly'. Festina lente, indeed. So, still riding Tornado, he very slowly and silently drew his sword out of his scabbard and transferred it to his left hand; then with his left hand he took hold of his whip while Tornado was walking on his own behind the third man's horse.

By command of his legs only, Zorro urged him to a trot and led him right beside the last horse. There, using the tip of his sword he quickly pierced the hand with which the third bandit was holding his gun while with a single lash of his whip he disarmed the first one. Making the most of the three men's surprise, he swiftly jumped on the second bandit's horse right behind the man, took a solid hold of the little girl and, punching the man, he forcibly made him dismount. Or rather, he threw him off his mount.

Holding the girl tightly against his chest with one arm and his sword in the other hand, he tried to urge the horse in gallop. But that horse was no Tornado, and wasn't accustomed to him either, so it didn't comply; and since Zorro had his hands otherwise occupied and had still not managed to take hold of the reins, the animal managed to finally get rid of his new unexpected and annoying rider by rearing up.

Zorro and the child fell to the ground. The man did his best to shield the girl from the impact, folding his tall body into a ball, hugging her close to his chest and protecting her head with his arms and hands. Reacting immediately, he grabbed his sword and had to release his grip on the girl to get up on his feet, in a defensive stance. A few feet away from him Leonor, still gagged and her hands tied behind her back, tried to let out a shout; but it was muffled by her gag and it turned into a terrified throaty growl. Her eyes were wide with fear and she tried to get on her feet and run away but she tripped and fell down on the dusty ground.

Zorro quickly assessed the situation. The bandit he had injured was holding his hand and crouched down, whimpering and trying to tend to his wound. This one was no immediate danger to him.

The one who was previously holding the child was still on the ground but had drawn his pistol and was trying to aim at him. Zorro rolled to the side to dodge the bullet that followed its course somewhere up the hill. The man then discarded his now useless pistol and drew his sword, trying to get up. But he must have hurt his leg in his fall since he couldn't stand on his feet and tripped with a wince before falling on his knees with a cry of pain.

The last man had retrieved his pistol in a bush and in addition had picked up Zorro's whip. With a well aimed lash he disarmed the Fox of his sword and held him in respect with his gun.

"I don't have the first idea who the hell you are," he told Zorro, "but the young senorita here is ours. You'll have to find your own rich hostage if you want to play this game! Now I leave you the choice: be on your way or die."

And as if to stress his words, he flexed a bit his index finger on the trigger, in a clear indication of what he intended to do if the man in black didn't comply.

Meanwhile, the other bandit had wobbled to him and had now the tip of his sword on Zorro's neck. Fortunately, the third bandit was still busy trying to stop the bleeding of his half skewered hand and wasn't paying them any attention.

Still, this was a tricky situation for Zorro. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the little girl doing her best to stand up without the help of her tied hands and trying to walk away. The kidnappers too saw her.

"Hey!" the man with the pistol shouted at her, "stay here, little one!"

To punctuate his command, he gave a whiplash in her way. Zorro noticed the man took great care to aim it a good six or seven feet ahead of her; interesting, he thought: the man didn't want to hurt her, as it seemed, but only meant to scare her.

And it worked: she stopped dead in her track.

But this short interlude gave Zorro the diversion he needed: making the most of the two men being distracted by the girl's attempt to flee, he swiftly did a back flip to escape the man's blade; on landing, h plunged his right hand in his boot and took out one of his knives which he threw at the other man's left hand: the latter dropped his pistol and gave a lash off the whip at the man in black. But Zorro dodged it by diving to the side, retrieving his sword in the same movement. He very quickly disarmed the limping man of his blade and punched him in the guts to knock the wind out of his lungs for a few seconds. In the mean time he jumped to the last bandit and pierced his right hand to make him drop the whip, after what he cut his customary Z mark in the man's jacket.

Before the man had recovered he picked up any weapon, gun, knife, sword or else they had to prevent them from using these on him – or on the girl. He then whistled to Tornado: he always had some rope in his saddlebags, just in case.

But just as he turned back to the kidnappers he had just defeated, he saw that the three remaining men had recovered enough and had already mounted their horses: before he could do anything else, he heard their leader shout:

"¡Vámonos muchachos! Strategic retreat!"

And when Zorro was back on Tornado's saddle, they were already gone.

He was about to run after them when he spotted the child crouched on the ground, growling through her gag and wriggling to free her hands from the ropes. She looked shocked, and lost, and terrified.

On the one hand, three bandits running way...

On the other hand, a lost and terrified little girl...

Zorro felt torn. His natural element was his fight against crime, at least when he was wearing this mask and outfit, so running after the bandits seemed almost like a reflex to him. But even though the girl was now out of danger, something inside him was telling him that leaving a frightened child alone in the middle of nowhere, even for only a few minutes, wasn't the done thing. He suddenly had a flash of a terrified little boy crying in the middle of what had recently been a battlefield. At that time he had almost instinctively known what to do, on the moment. He looked at the direction the kidnappers had just taken, hesitated for on more second, and then sighed. Sometimes playing the hero wasn't the best choice.

Reluctantly, he decided to stay with her and bring her back right then rather than run after her abductors. Slowly dismounting from Tornado, he looked at her. She was now standing in the middle of the path, unmoving, at a loss as to what to do or what had happened. She was still gagged, her hands were still tied behind her back, her dress was a dusty rumpled mess; her black hair was unevenly cut above her shoulders, roughly at the level of the nape of her neck. Her eyes shone with unshed tears of fright.

Zorro looked at her intensely.

So. This was his father's illegitimate and secret daughter...

His father's daughter. The thought still seemed unreal to him. This was hard to fathom. His father... so seemly... so dignified... so respectable... so proper...

His own father...

These kinds of things happened everyday everywhere in the world, of course he knew that... The world, the societies were full of such situations. But... but... but it happened to others! To other families, to others' fathers...

Only... just not to them!

He incredulously stared at the girl.

He ran a hand over his face, stopping when he felt the mask and remembering the current situation. With his thumb and index finger he squeezed his eyes, as though to make a mirage go away, but when he opened them again she was still there.

And suddenly, another thought came to his mind. He marvelled at the fact that he hadn't made the connection before, that it didn't occur to him earlier: if this child was his father's daughter, then it necessarily made her his... his...

Oh Dios! He had a little sister!