The old fighter was, however, struck by rounds from somewhere. One hit him in the chest, another in his thigh, but he held his posture and charged on. He directed his steed towards the troops who had been dropped off by the helicopter and were manning a mortar. When the officer in charge first saw Sebastian he did not know what to make of him. But as the old man and the white stallion bore down on his position he realised the threat they posed.
The mortar team scrambled for their weapons heaped in a pile around the ammunition boxes. The officer drew his pistol and began to fire a rapid series of shots. But Sebastian was to have his final moment.
As he closed the gap between the Neravistas and himself the thunder of his horse’s hooves grew louder and the men who’d been going for their weapons changed their minds and tried to scatter. The officer had emptied his pistol clip and stood his ground while struggling to reload.
Sebastian leapt over the stack of mortar ammunition, at the same time thrusting down with his sword. A good portion of its blade disappeared into the neck of one of the soldiers and pierced down into his heart. As the horse landed Sebastian withdrew his blood-soaked blade and with the practised ease of a polo player swung it in a cartwheel motion and took away the side of the officer’s face.
He rode on past the position and made a wide turn as the soldiers scrambled to pick up their weapons. As Sebastian lined up for another charge they opened fire, all their guns on full automatic. The bullets tore into both horse and rider. The horse died as it charged, collapsing instantly. Sebastian flew over its neck to crumple in the dirt in front of it. He did not move and his eyes stayed wide open.
Applause and laughter resounded from the lookout post.
Steel seemed oblivious to the celebration, lost for the moment in appreciation of the old man’s final moment.
‘Why, Steel,’Ventura said, interrupting the American’s daydream. ‘I do believe you’re jealous of him.’
‘I am. Right up until the part where he died,’ Steel said.
The officers roared with laughter again.
‘I think we should follow his lead, though, don’t you?’ Steel suggested. ‘The battle is all but won. Let’s take a ride and get some real sport.’
‘Go down there?’ Ventura asked, unsure. ‘It’s still a little busy.’
‘Why else would we go there?’ Steel replied, downing his drink and walking over to his horse. ‘Come on, Ventura. Show me some of that upper-class disdain for danger that you think you have. You’re not gonna let Sebastian outdo you, are you?’
Ventura felt contempt for Steel’s immature challenge but shrugged and finished his drink. ‘Why not?’ he sighed.
Several others joined them in mounting their horses and the group rode off towards the rebel camp entrance.
Louisa watched her father die after David had practically dragged her back to the defensive position while the enemy took shots at them. She squatted at his feet in tears while he started firing again at a group of Neravistas.
‘They’re closing in,’ he shouted, reaching the end of his ammo belt.
The number of rebels in the courtyard was getting smaller as they were gradually picked off.
David ripped open an ammunition box to dig out another belt. ‘You must go, Louisa! You must escape! They’ll kill you just like they did Sebastian.’
She stopped her sobbing but remained where she was, apparently unmoved by David’s warning. He reloaded the M60, glanced at her to see that she had not taken any notice of him and grabbed hold of her roughly. ‘Listen to me! You must try and escape. You are our future. Do you understand?’
His words penetrated Louisa’s anguish and she looked into his eyes to see the fire in them. A round slammed into the top of the sandbags near his head and David pulled her down further. ‘You stay alive for us, not just for yourself !’ he added as he got back to the business of shooting at the enemy. ‘Go! Don’t waste everything we have done here!’
His words inspired her but she was left confused. ‘How can I escape?’
‘The cliff. Your ropes. It’s your only chance.’
‘But the children . . .’
‘You cannot take them. Save yourself and one day you can save others.’
Louisa believed him. He was right. She had little chance of getting out of there and she knew it. But she owed it to him, to all of them, to try.
She got ready to run, but then shook her head in frustration as bullets flew around them. ‘Which way?’ she yelled. ‘Tell me where to go!’
‘The stables,’ David said. ‘Ride!’
Louisa looked in that direction hopefully. The stables were just visible through the smoke. She looked at David. ‘Come with me.’
‘No. Go! Now! I’ll cover you.’
Louisa understood. She touched him gently, knowing she would not see him again, and then she was off at the run.
David fired an extended burst, sweeping the M60 through a wide arc.
Hector sat on his horse, two dozen of his rebels with him, all of them listening sombrely to the distant sound of battle. A group of riders came galloping down the track from the direction of Sebastian’s camp.
Hector looked expectantly towards them. It was the reconnaissance patrol he had sent ahead to wait for Louisa. But he could see that she was not among them.
The patrol leader pulled his perspiring horse to a halt in front of Hector and, a grave expression on his face, shook his head. ‘Sebastian is dead,’ he said.
Hector had been prepared for that news but still it shocked him when he heard the words. The revolution had truly changed its course.
‘They’re being destroyed wholesale,’ the patrol leader continued. ‘No one will get out of there alive.’
Despite everything that had come between Louisa and him, Hector’s heart felt as though it were going to break open. A cherished dream he had held close to his soul for years had vanished like a puff of smoke rising into the air.
He eased his horse’s head around and walked the animal past his men, back towards his encampment.
Stratton had watched Sebastian’s death from the high ground behind the stables. It had not come as a surprise after he’d seen the rebel leader ride away on his horse the way he had. But having just conversed with him, in a kind of way, it was a strange feeling to see him die so soon after.
Stratton swiftly made his way down to the cabins and around to the front of the one used by Louisa.
He pushed open the door and went inside. ‘Louisa!’ he called out.
The place looked empty, as if it had been abandoned in a hurry. The table was covered in maps with drawings of troop locations and movements on them. When there was no answer Stratton hurried to the back room to find it empty too.
He went back to the front door to look outside. A machine gun was firing from the other side of the courtyard. A couple of rebels were holding out behind the upturned log table as were others concealed elsewhere around the courtyard. Corpses lay all around.
Bursts of fire from the patch of wood on the edge of the main encampment raked the wall of the cabin close to Stratton. He dropped to the ground, crawled a short distance, got to his feet and ran at the crouch to the cabin that he had shared with Victor.
He ducked inside the door as another burst barely missed him. He fell back against the wall and looked around the room.
Bodies both dead and alive littered the place. Wounded rebels sprawled on the table, floor and chairs, some of them conscious. Flies buzzed hungrily around the blood and soiled dressings. Most disturbing for Stratton, a group of women and children huddled on the floor at the far end, some staring at him while others hid their faces in fear.