The gunfire was still echoing as the stranger reached the scene. He hid amongst the crowd of onlookers, cloak held close.

Three smoking holes in the trodden path Dehali called a street. Standing there, the leader of the ex-soldiers, holding the little lady by her arm, screaming accusations of treachery- of setting their cart alight.

The cart was alight, that much was true. Amber flames licked at one of the wheels- the last flickering sparks now, the other two beating out the flames that had licked the wood black.

It was barely so much as singed.

“I’m tellin’ you I don’t know!” she shouted. Her voice cracked, fear seeping in. But she had a fierceness in her eyes that held, even now. “I don’t know why that happened!”

“Listen here you little scheisse!” The confident swagger the leader had before was gone, replaced with a venomous fury. “You gave us over that pretty purse, we told you you were short, and in our abundant magnanimity said we’d give you till sundown. You kicked our wagon in a pike of childish anger, and set it ablaze with that touch of yours.”

“Piss off! Yeah I kicked it, but then it- it just went up! Not my fault!”

He tapped her on the shoulder with the revolver, and the brave face faltered.

“Well then. I suppose we’ll ask our fine friends,” he turned to the crowd- with anger-drenched eyes and iron-sights. “Any of you lot care to speak for him?”

Silence. No one dared speak into a gun.

She looked to the crowd; desperation clear. Her eyes passed over his. He doubted it even registered- such fear in her eyes. Such acceptance, too.

The stranger’s chest hitched again.

“And so we have our answer,” the soldier said with a fiendish smirk. “Now tell me… how you intend to pay us back. You just about torched our haul- damaged our poor cart, and grievously terrified our poor horse.”

The clay-red horse stood there, unperturbed.

The ex-soldier pulled at her arm. “Well?!”

The girl spat in the man’s face.

A flash of light, like furnace sparks, lanced across his cheek.

He let out a sudden shout, both hands going to his face- the one that had held the girl sparking embers too. She ran.

Too late. A little fire shocked the soldier, but did little else- he pulled the glove off with his teeth, smothered the flames in the crook of his arm, took aim and fired.

The bullet missed, but the ground beside her jumped from the impact. What strength the defiant spit had given her wore out, and down she fell.

Before she could stand, he buried his heel into her back, and aimed.

“I told you lot! He’s got the drachen’s touch! A monster in his soul. I’ll put him out of his mi-”

“I suggest you leave her alone.”

The stranger pushed his way through the crowd, voice reverberating through his mask, but loud and clear all the same. He’d had enough of this- enough of waiting for someone to stand.

And he smelt it in the air.

“Now who are you?” the ex-soldier spat. The stranger ignored him, and just looked him in the eyes.

He glared fangs back at him.

Not a smile, but close.

He’s been here…

“I’m just a simple wanderer- you take your foot off her back, we can talk this out.”

“How about I just kill you, and the weak little shit-boy?”

“Shouldn’t call her that.”

“I’ll call him what I damn please, you-”

“I’m looking for a man with a smile in his eyes.”

That cut him off. His hard face twisted, as though the words brought the thought out from some inner depths.

“Yeah, I seen him. Went out north-east. You done?”

“Just about. You take your foot off the girl now, and leave these folk alone while you’re at it.”

The soldier took aim. “Right. How about I put a bullet between your eyes?”

“Two shots left. Not enough.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Not en- you verdammter fool- you’ll be blood on the ground before you even get close. Not enough. Bastard.”

“L-… let it go!”

Neither expected the salamander to interject. Tears were welling in her eyes.

“Just… just let it go. What’s it matter to you? I’m not worth you gettin’ killed.”

The soldier laughed, the sort of cruel laugh that chills your blood. The stranger didn’t say a word, just let it slide.

“You heard him- move along. This is our business. Besides- you’re all talk anyway, what’re you going do against an army?”

“I figured we’d settle this the Exovan way. A duel. My honour against yours- you win, you take everything you want.”

“Honour? You’re some stiff old man who couldn’t shoot a barn, let alone a-”

All eyes were on him, so all saw it happen. All ears were on him, so all heard it happen.

In one fluid motion, the stranger drew a long-nose single-action revolver, shimmering with a pristine black-silver finish, from the confines of his cloak.

The gun barked, like a thunder crack.

The bullet struck the cart, wood splinters scattering. The fire-touched wheel bounced off a few feet, severed at the axel. The cart, so wounded, collapsed to one knee, the horse that drew it shuffling uncomfortably in place.

All there knew it clear as day. Even with a gun trained on him, had the stranger wished the bullet would have blossomed out the back of the ex-soldier’s head.

The man eyed the gun with a doubled sense of fear and want. The way the sun caught it made the steel dance, with the sort of beauty that made men mad. His finger hadn’t even begun to twitch.

“A duel is it…” he said, voice wavering. “A duel it’ll be then. You’ve got until the sun starts dipping.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Then he turned and walked away- kicking at the blown off wheel in a pike of frustration. His men tried to protest, but he brushed them off. They all heard him muttering “I want that gun…” under his breath.

Nothing else sounded but the wind.

###

Distant shouting was the backdrop as he returned to the friar’s parish. The reality of what had happened only hit once the stranger was long out of sight, the townsfolk taking it upon themselves to get what was taken from them back.

It was a jubilant sound, with the faint undercurrent of a certain kind of greed.

Nothing quite as toothsome as the soldiers, so he paid it no mind.

And all the while, salamander-quick footsteps followed him.

“Why’d you do it?”

That was the question at hand and on her lips, repeated in variation as they walked.

“Why are you risking your life? What have you to gain? Why are fighting?”

They were at the parish door when she finally hit the core of it.

“Why’re you tryin’ to save my life!?”

Shouted, loud and hard.

He looked over his shoulder at her, and answered.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

She paused, sniffling. She hadn’t expected a question back.

“C- cause I’m, a monster. They say so- an, and not just those soldiers either. I set things on fire. My matches. Their cart. M- my… home. I, I just…”

He reached out, and pat her head gently.

“I’ll tell you a secret, little lady-”

“I h- have a name…”

“- and it’s this; a lotta monsters in this world. Lotta normal folk who make monsters look kind, too. Whatever you did, it’s not on you.”

The tears didn’t stop, nor the sniffling. But she nodded, and something flared back up in her eyes.

Behind his mask, he smiled.

###

He saw her off, asking her to fetch him when the sun started going down, and entered the parish.

“Apologies, friar, for my sudden exit,” he said simply.

The friar’s face lit up with welcome shock. A rarity, to welcome surprise.

“What happened, young man? I heard… gunshots. More than usual.”

The stranger waved him off in his approach.

“Not much. Had us a discussion. Come sundown it’ll be over, one way or another. Your boys are good at handling fire- engineer corp training sticks, even when they’re playing crook.”

To his credit, the man didn’t falter. “When did you figure it out?”

“About the time you called the Felisians spies. That’s not what they’d call them… but it is what an ex-infantryman of Exova would.”

He took a step forward, the floorboards of the church creaking.

“Taking your story as true, let’s see- a soldier and three of the engineer’s he was guarding, lingering in the bloodshed of that Felisian attack. Cut off from home, they turn to banditry. You press the town- easy enough, towns don’t have a face. But the girl… it was like a splinter in your soul, wasn’t it?”

The friar nodded. “I don’t deny it. I won’t look away from the cruelty we inflicted upon these poor folk. It’s why I took up the cloth- absolution for what I did. Retirement, they called it- and kept paying their due. Every red cent of my share went back to the community, I assure you.”

“A noble thought,” the stranger said. “No doubt you heard how well that worked out.”

To that, the friar was silent for a time. He simply stood there, as the stranger took a peach slice and popped it in his mouth, waiting for an answer.

“What can I do?” The answer finally came.

“Well, friar,” his voice was calm and measured. “You can start by answering a question or two of mine. How’d the four of you kill those Felisians. Three engineers and an old infantryman, it just don’t add up.”

“Funny thing,” the friar said. “Sandstorm blew in. They went into the tunnel to wait it out. Gave us the time we needed to set the charges.”

“That so.”

His revolver cleared the holster in a smooth, singular motion.

“Tell me, friar. How’s it feel to be a demon worshipping a human god?”

The friar gave him a faint look as his skin began to crumble. From flesh to sand, the glint in his eye turning to firelight. A hulking thing, like a wandering dune, wavering like a mirage.

The robes still fit him, a nice touch.

“I can’t imagine what you mean, stranger,” the friar said, his voice like an hourglass. “I gave up that face long ago. As I said. I seek absolution. Be it in Her grace, or…”

The sand-swept demon looked down the black-silver barrel, and his toothy maw gave a somber grin. He didn’t say more than that.

The stranger pulled the trigger.

Click.

“Well look at that,” the stranger said. “That chamber’s empty. Let’s call that absolution, then.”

The friar let out a sigh of relief that sounded like a heavy gust.

He slipped the revolver back into its home.

“My second question is a doozy. What happened to your boy, the lead one. He’s got an uncommon greed in him… a hungry look. One I’m searching for.”

The friar froze. Neither of his secrets being exposed shook him, but this did.

“Now tell me- truly this time. I’m looking for a man with a smile in his eyes…”

###

Conversation came and went- of smiling eyes and other things. The friar, grateful for the talk when business concluded, promised him a traveling pack and a horse- the old clay-red draft horse. It was his, after all, and when the other three were done there’d be no other use for it, he said.

Not once did he doubt the stranger would win. He appreciated that.

A knock on the door brought an end to it- the salamander, calling out for sunset.

So out the stranger came.

###

Faded orange washed across Dehali, shadows grew as the sun touched the horizon and began her slow descent. The crowd that gathered stayed well clear of the fire-line, but watched with rapt attention. Eyes and expressions like a patchwork quilt.

The stranger stood ten paces from the ex-soldier, ex-engineer, current bandit and his gang.

Three men, and that was all.

Their leader grimaced, his eyes chomped at the bit. The other two, their cheeks lifted with sharp smiles.

Nothing sounded but the wind.

Sand and dirt danced with it, the stranger’s cloak fluttering like a tattered sail. It threatened to take it, and his hat besides.

The human reflex slept.

Their hands twitched.

To the man’s credit, he started to draw first. That was quick. The infantryman coat didn’t suit him- it wasn’t his, after all- but he clearly knew his way around a gun.

But not well enough.

Two heavy barks rang out. Two heavy bullets hit- one in the soldier’s gut, the other between his eyes.

Before the red mist had even started to fall, the stranger’s hand moved with machine precision to the second of the three. This had been a duel on the face of it, but everyone knew the score.

Two more shots, air cracking like thunder, as lead struck meat. One in the shoulder, jerking him to the right so the second bullet could pierce his side. The third-

The third fired.

He shifted to the left.

Metal sliced past, winging his right arm. Black specks and scraps of cloth.

A shallow graze.

Pain ignored, the stranger lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger two more times.

The first hit his hand, ridding him of his revolver- and a few fingers besides. The second blossomed on his cheek like a red carnation.

Acrid gun-smoke drifted gently from the stranger’s long-nose. The three men lay dead.

The stranger took a breath, and felt the movement in his chest for the third time.

His heartbeat.

Wondered when you’d get back.

The damage to his right arm itched, but it was an easy fix. He turned to the crowd, a sea of unease with twilight glinting off of it. Collectively, they’d called their bluff- if their claim of an army was true, the sun would not shine on Dehali the next morning.

For a moment, he felt he should say something. Maybe he could assuage their fears of reprisal. He could do something more- do some good.

But in the end, he didn’t.

He had his own wants. Three men had died for them. That was all.

###

Throughout the shooting, the clay-red draft horse hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t scattered. The fire hadn’t phased it, nor did the stranger coming to collect.

The thing had been ridden by a demon, after all. It knew things even the engineers didn’t. It understood.

He freed it from the cart- no one had done so in the scramble for their own possessions- and saddled it up with the supplies the friar gave him.

The stranger sat astride the horse and made his way to the southern edge of town.

It was there the little lady was waiting.

Standing there, faint tears starting at the corners of her eyes, the sunset at her back, the brass stick in her hand. A tightly tied sack hung off one end, her possessions.

She looked like she was wreathed in flames.

“Good evening,” the stranger said.

The salamander held the tears as best she could.

“Thank you. I… I don’t… know how to repay you.”

“No need.”

She fought them with the heel of her free hand. “N- no, I ha… I have to. You saved my life… probably saved this town.”

“Maybe so.”

“And now… you’re just leaving, huh?”

He nodded her way. “Yup. On my way out.”

She tried to speak, voice wavering. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and shouted.

“Please, take me with you!”

“I’m right here, little lady. You don’t have to yell.”

Her eyes shot open. Something about her expression shifted.

“Wh- no, why aren’t you going?”

“Pardon?”

“You’re supposed t- to be… to be going. That’s how all the books I’ve read put it. You walk into the sunset.”

“You know how to read?”

“Wh- of course I do you ass!” she shouted- but as the words left her mouth she started laughing, as if the stranger’s odd behavior had knocked the tears out of her. “I- I love that shit. A lone gunman type comes into town a- and… I mean, it was real, and I was so scared, but…”

So many conflicted emotions twisted about the poor girl. He looked back- one final check, to ensure they were alone.

The stranger smiled behind his mask.

“Hey, I get it. You thought it’d end this way, like your dramas. But you’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

“I told you. I need a guide. I may look the part but I just got here. You’ll know the place more than me, I reckon. Get on.”

She blinked. “Wha…?”

“I said get on. Only reason I haven’t left yet is you’re not on this horse, little lady.”

“I- and I told you, I have a name!” she shouted, running to the horse and all but leaping onto it in the poor beast.

“And you never told me it yet. More of that drama of yours?”

She hit him in the back- surprisingly hard.

“My… my name? It’s, uh…” she paused. Another deep breath. “My name is Saila.”

With a faint movement, the stranger urged the horse forward.

“Name’s Noble. Let’s ride.”

The horse let out a rough snort, and the three made their way into the sunset.

######