Trafford Publishing: The Brave Dogs (Los Perros Bravos)

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The Brave Dogs (Los Perros Bravos)

by Kenny Fitzgerald

615 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0438; ISBN 1-55369-625-5; US$44.00, C$49.88, EUR36.00, £25.50

The Brave Dogs is a story about loyalty, courage, and comradeship. It is a formula whose ingredients are allegiance to ideals, selfless love, and the alchemical transformation of men and women in their search for truth and honour.

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about the book about the author sample excerpts catalogue info

About the Book

Spain, in the opening years of the 16th century, a country bruised and tattered by 700 years of war, is the setting for this novel of historical fantasy. The Moors have finally been driven out of the peninsula and Isabel and Fernando, rulers of the recently united Spanish kingdom, have cast their eyes westward toward the new lands discovered under their sponsorship by Cristóbol Colón.
Young men at the birth of this new century of hope dream of following the early explorers and seeking their fame and fortune. The Brave Dogs is a story about a group of brothers preparing to become conquistadors. In the hot dusty fields near their homes in Extremadura they practice with wooden swords, developing their fighting skills and an unconquerable faith in themselves and their destinies as warriors. Equal to their own preparation for war, they train their dogs, their Perros Bravos, to assist them in battle. Though vicious and deadly against an enemy, these dogs demonstrate a priceless loyalty and devotion to their masters. Man and dog are bonded in a mystical way that makes their association a partnership. Despite the fact that canines have been used for thousands of years as an important element in warfare, the dogs of these young Spaniards are special, bred from a Dogo Canario (Presa Canario) saved from a roaring river by the chief protagonist, Pedro de Alvarado, and a mastiff descended from the breeds brought to the country by the Roman Legions.
The story is narrated by Rodrigo Sosa, cousin to the Alvarado brothers. He relates the adventures that he shares with his idol Pedro and the transformation he witnesses in him. At the same time, he becomes aware of changes in himself as he gains confidence in his own abilities and becomes a hero in his own right. The Brave Dogs is about honor and loyalty. It is about comradeship and faith. It is about true poetic love between men and women who learn to share together a special magic wrought in the alchemical fusion of doves and roses and words.

About the Author

Kenny Fitzgerald received his degree in creative writing from the University of New Mexico. When he is not writing fiction or poetry, he devotes his time to professional translation projects for writers from Argentina and Mexico and for museums that feature exhibitions of Spanish Colonial art. A recent translation of articles about pottery and azuelejo tiles performed for the International Museum of Folk Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico, will be published by the University of New Mexico Press in 2003. He has presented portions of Los Perros Bravos (The Brave Dogs) at literary conferences in La Paz, Mexico and Lima, Peru, and a portion of the text has been published in Alba de America, a literary journal produced by California State University (Northridge/Dominqüez Hills). The novel will be formally presented at a literary conference in Madrid, Spain in July 2002. Fitzgerald currently lives in New Mexico but within a few years plans to spend all his time on a boat off the coasts of California and Mexico.

Sample Excerpts

Segment Chapter I
A fly buzzed around the dead puppies. Pedro's arm flashed. He captured the insect and held it within his fist, feeling it try to escape. Then he opened his hand and watched the green-black bug as it tested wings. When it looked like it could fly again, he raised his palm towards the sky and it buzzed away. We all watched as it spiraled joyfully into the hot dazzling brilliance that bleached the countryside around us.
We were just boys playing a game of war, but we knew that that day meant something. It was special in some way we couldn't understand. We watched the fly spinning, insane with happiness that it was free. Across the sky a train of seven small fleecy white clouds was floating beneath that torrid sun. It looked like a first communion procession. The thought passed through my mind that it was the souls of the seven tiny dead puppies that lay on that riverbank marching toward heaven. And then one small body shivered in the sand. Alvarado reacted instantly. He scooped it up and shook it gently. He breathed into the tiny black and gold face and yelled. "Live... live little puppy... live... " He breathed again, forcing his air into the tiny quivering mouth. The pup coughed and squirmed in Pedro's hands and wildly pawed at the air. Its pink-white tongue trembled spastically as water came rushing up from its lungs. Its soft searching eyes moved rapidly and victoriously as it fought its way back to life. And then we all yelled with happiness at the triumph we had just witnessed. We laughed and shouted with joy the way young boys do when something wonderful happens and faith in the power of good is suddenly renewed.
The dog that Alvarado saved that day was a female. He named her Alma del Río, because she was a soul saved from the river, a life come back from death. A soldier who had just returned from Islas Canarias saw her when we took her back to Badajoz. He told us that she was from a breed known as Presa Canario that was popular in that new Spanish colony. She grew to be one of the finest dogs in the province and the mother and grandmother of many great War Dogs. Two of her grandsons would be Valor the Perro Bravo of Pedro de Alvarado, and Amigo, the wonderful and loyal companion of his cousin, and best friend, me, Rodrigo Sosa.
Segment Chapter II
"Who's there?" she asked.
"Sweet lady... may I speak with you?"
The shutters issued a raspy complaint as they swung open on dry hinges. She stood there immersed in the glow of the moon. A red robe covered her night clothing. She clutched it with both hands at her neck. She looked down at Alvarado, unafraid. There was a dainty smile beginning at the corners of her mouth. I knew I liked her when I heard her tell him. "You're crazy, you know?"
At first I thought he was dumbstruck just like that afternoon, unable to speak. Then I heard him whispering but at first I couldn't hear his words. He stood in front of her and held out his hand. In it was the rose she had thrown to him that afternoon. It was wilted and the stem was bent. And I heard him speak again, louder this time.
"This is my heart," he said.
"It looks like a rose to me," she said mockingly, then laughed, not loud but fully, delightfully. She was playing with him.
"It became my heart when you gave it to me."
She didn't say anything. Neither did he. They looked at each other, standing there in the gentle radiance of a new spring moon, only the sounds of their breathing and the gentle cooing of doves surrounding them. The cat was rubbing up against her leg. It pushed the long robe away from her ankle. I had retreated about ten meters down the street and was standing on top of an empty wine barrel. The cat was eyeing Alvarado.
"I have so many things to say to you," he told her.
"I want to hear them," she said.
"I don't... I don't know what happened today when I saw you but..."
He wasn't allowed to finish his sentence. There was a loud bang as the door of the room opened from an inner hall and boots slapped across the wood slat floor. "What's going on here? Raquel, are you talking to someone, what's happening?" That was the first time we heard her name. She and Alvarado looked at each other and came close together for a second, their faces only inches apart, close enough to kiss, then Alvarado swung himself over the side of the balcony and hung on to the side. She looked down at him and whispered. I could not hear what she said. Then she turned quickly and ran back into the room. "Uncle, it's the doves, you know they drive Passion crazy, she was trying to capture a dove on the balcony." Her fib convinced the old man. Alvarado hung there, swinging slightly, until he heard the uncle make some remark about closing the shutters tight so the cat couldn't get out and keep the whole house awake. The door on the inside closed again, this time with a contented force. Raquel came back to the balcony and said very quietly to Alvarado who still hung there. "I saw a monkey do that once at a fiesta, but he was better at it than you." Then she laughed with that celestial voice and told him to meet her the following night behind the church at midnight. "I'll take good care of your heart."
Segment Chapter XVII
The bottom of the boat began to drag across the sandy bottom. Waves crumpled in on themselves as they touched the shore. I could see that the inlet was protected by a curvature in the rocky cliffs that formed the small cove. Amigo and Valor stood haunch to haunch in the bow ready to leap on to the beach. The boat bounced slightly as it ran aground. We jumped out into the water and pulled it up out of the waves. The dogs ran ahead up the beach. They didn't bark but they were excited. I'd put their armor on them when we first started out in the launches. They'd only worn it before when Alejandro and I had constructed the metal and leather protection in his shop, tailoring it to each dog. I was glad to see that our design allowed them to run freely without any restriction.
The other two launches came up quickly behind us. We helped pull them up on to the sand. Little was said. Cortés signaled with his hands and held on to Lucero's shoulder above his stump and spoke into his ear. I was next to them and heard him say, "Lead us to the entrance old warrior, it's time to bloody our swords."
Lucero started towards the walls. They surged upward like a rocky wave above us, black and angry. The passage was just a dark shape in the side of the cliff. We trudged through the sand stepping on clumps of seaweed and bits of driftwood. Our boots sank into the softness and each step was an effort. Lucero pointed to the towers above us. Dim lights danced at window openings. We couldn't see anyone but I thought I heard voices floating down to us. Cortés did too. He motioned us into a tight circle to give us orders. I bent down and snapped the battles leashes on Amigo and Valor. My heart was pounding and my hands shook a little as I inspected their armor once again. There was a potent eagerness in their eyes.
"There's something going on, I don't think that they've seen us, but the troop is getting ready for something. Let's pray that Alvarado isn't the cause of the commotion," his eyes scanned the towers searching for guards on the ramparts. "We have to hit them fast. We will be outnumbered but our advantage is our surprise. They'll never expect an entrance from the sea in this storm. Strike to disable. Don't get engaged in prolonged duels if you can help it. Someone will come up behind you and kill you if you do. Hit and move. Hit and move. Whoever finds the women first must signal to the others the same way we've been doing on the training fields. Our priority is to get them out of there safe, and of course Alvarado... he will be there* somewhere..." He looked at us, each one of us, and then said in that bear-like voice of his, "For Santiago and Alvarado."
"For Santiago and Alvarado," we all said in unison and followed him through the black rectangle of the entrance. Amigo pulled hard on the leash in front of me. His claws scraped against the slippery ancient stone steps. Juan was behind me with Valor. The power I could feel flowing up my arm through the leather cord gave me confidence. I thanked God for the dogs and I prayed that Pedro was all right.
The steps were narrow, steep, and slimy. Water dripped down the walls and a steady stream poured down the staircase. It was like walking up a cataract. Our scabbards and the plates of armor on our shoulders chafed against the cold sweating walls. The wind wailed at the opening we'd passed through and followed us like a snake of air as we climbed upward. Only a faint patch of gray marked the exit we were headed for. Finally we stopped as Cortés reached the top. Each of us felt back with his hand to stop the one behind him. My hand touched the top of Valor's head. He licked my fingers with his warm gritty tongue. Juan was whispering to him. Olid was directly behind Cortés and in front of me. He spoke to me in a voice so low that I could barely hear him, "Cortés said for you to come forward." That seemed to be impossible because of the narrowness of the passage but somehow Amigo and I managed to squeeze by him. We stood, waiting, behind Cortés who was crouching in the doorway. I gave the hand signal Sara had taught us to Amigo and he went into the down position by my side. I could hear the sounds of men's voices clearly now. In the courtyard several soldiers were helping to hitch a team to a carriage. Behind them others moved in the murky light, framed by a sickly yellow glow from a fireplace inside the portion of the building that faced towards the huge wooden gates. I didn't expect to see any guards on the ocean side of the fortress but there was a figure moving slowly toward us from the direction of the tower. Cortés yanked hard on my sleeve to get my attention. He made a motion across his throat with the index finger of his right hand that only could mean one thing and then pointed with the same finger at the form that was approaching. I'll never forget the huge ring he wore on that finger. A piece of ivory in the shape of an eagle was set in a dull silver band. His eyes had that same grayish tone to them and his voice was controlled and measured as he looked at me. His gaze said be careful. His whispered command was simply, "kill him."
Amigo nudged my side. I stroked his head quickly to reassure him and handed the leash to Olid who was now squatting next to Cortés. The man had stopped and was looking down at the cove. He wiped at his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing and I knew in a few moments he would be raising an alarm, shouting about the boats below. I moved as quickly as I could. My dagger was in my hand. It felt light and hot and I gripped it tightly. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. My heart thumped so loudly I was sure it would warn the man, and suddenly he was turning, and I raised the sharp steel and brought it down towards his chest. Then a golden light exploded in my eyes. For the tiniest part of a second I had sight of a large man dressed in white armor. A brilliant glare from the cross around his neck was blinding me. I knew that I'd missed the man my dagger sought when I felt the blade scrape across the rock wall of the parapet. My motion carried me forward. I was off balance and falling, and in those few brief moments I felt failure and knew I was going to die.
Suddenly two strong arms reached out and grabbed me and then I feared that the man would try to push me over the edge of the wall. Instinct made me grapple with him. Fear brought a rush of strength and new agility. I spun him around to do the same thing to him that I'd thought he planned for me and he banged his head against mine and was shouting in my ear.
"Rodrigo... Rodrigo... it's me... De La Rosa... "
"Father? Father? It's you... what are..."
"I came with the women... and... no... no don't..." he was looking behind me, his eyes now wide with fright. I clung to his robes and turned and saw Cortés with his sword ready to strike and I held out my hand just in time.
"No... I know him... I know him...."
Cortés didn't even blink. Nothing shocked or surprised him. He sheathed his weapon and as he did, he looked down into the courtyard. I did too, expecting the noise that we'd made to have caused at least some of the men below to be looking up at us but none were. I thanked Santiago under my breath, at the same moment I realized that it was his celestial intervention had saved the priest's life. It had been him. I had actually seen him. He was here with us and I knew we would succeed. I knew that Alvarado was still alive. I took hold of the priest's arm and led him back toward the passage, following Cortés who continued to watch the troops below. The wind shrieked like an enraged sea bird. Its force made the raindrops blasting against us feel like pin pricks on our faces. The edge of the eastern sky was the color of lead and soaking up the black carpet of night. Charcoal wads of clouds were dark mountain ranges maneuvering like armies on a battlefield, regrouping for new battle. I swabbed at the wetness on my face with a clammy hand. Cortés motioned us all to crouch down, out of sight of those below. His eyes said, "Explain!"
I whispered to him who De La Rosa was and he turned and told the men waiting on the stairs to back down a bit. Then we jammed together at the opening and the priest spoke to him and told him about Alvarado's plan. He'd just finished describing it when noise at the gates made us peek over the ledge. A carriage had been hitched up and had been brought up ready to accommodate passengers. We could see several women descending down a long staircase from the towers toward it. They were met on the way by a soldier and after a few moments they turned and headed back up to the tower rooms. And then the world exploded.
A scream perforated the air. In the heavy damp atmosphere it had a sodden echo. All our eyes turned towards the carriage. A soldier was lying in the mud. Three others with swords drawn were slashing at the figure of a man. He responded by hacking off the hand of the man nearest to him and then plunging his weapon into another soldier to his right. A dozen other men were rushing toward them from the back of the courtyard, yelling and cursing and brandishing the weapons. Beyond the gates we could see that the lights we'd wondered about from the launches were torches borne by a troop of soldiers that was hastening through the muck of the road toward the gates of the citadel.
"It's Alvarado," I shouted. "No one else swings a sword like that."
Cortés called to the men on the stairs behind us. He told them that our surprise would last only for a few seconds as we came down the stairs and urged them to remember what he'd told them earlier. He quickly grabbed the priest and told him to take the women to the boats and to the waiting ship in the bay. And then we were running across the top of the parapet. We swarmed down the stairs yelling battle cries, letting the energies within us flow down our arms to our swords. We struck at the first man we came across. Surprise was ours but it lasted as Cortés had said, just for a few moments. Another dozen men were streaming from the buildings, some still pulling on their boots and shirts. Few had time to put on armor. Amigo and Valor roared and lunged at any guardsman that approached us. A soldier jabbed at me with a pike. I dodged and swung at him as he came by me and caught him across the back of the neck. Red spurted from his half severed head as he spun around and fell kicking into the mire at our feet. I looked at his face. He was very young. There were pimples above the scrawny excuse of a beard on his cheeks. His eyes were wide open in death. I barely missed being struck in the same way myself as another guard came up behind me. I heard a blunt thud and turned in time to see him trying to clutch at his back. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth and a gurgling sound was escaping from his lungs. Behind him I saw Alvarado. Three men lay at his feet. Two were motionless. The other wriggled in pain, arms and legs flailing in the mud. Juan released Valor and he ran to Alvarado's side. I'd already unclipped Amigo's leash and he waited protectively at my side. Pedro waved at me and in that same moment I realized it had been his dagger, thrown from over fifteen meters away that had saved me from the man who lay dying at my boots.
Fighting raged all around me. I fought my way toward Pedro. Something buzzed by my ear and slammed into the back of the carriage. I saw a soldier reloading a crossbow on the other side of the courtyard. Two other men came out carrying the same weapon but they could not fire without the possibility of hitting one of their own men so they were taking their time trying to choose their shots. For the moment I had to ignore them. I was being pressed again my two other guards. Both were good swordsmen and I was having a hard time with them.
"Kill... Kill..." I screamed and Amigo leapt at the man to the right. His fangs sank deep into the man's sword arm and he pulled him down into the mud. Two other soldiers were suddenly swinging at me from my left. I had to defend myself against three men now.

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