For 6 years the town of New Bellrive had been subject to Mayor Johnson’s looting and tyranny. A power-hungry alchemist from back east, he wasn’t satisfied with the fortune he made turnin’ coal to gold. Too cold and unlikeable to get elected, he decided his best bet was to round up a posse of fire slingers and head west where he could make the laws.

As the local barkeep, I see a lot of unfamiliar faces, but today a sight for sore eyes walked up to my counter.

“Pass me a whiskey sir,” he said actin’ all distant. Which in hindsight, I suppose was warranted.

“Been a long while, hasn’ it, Able?” I said softly so as not to excite nobody.

“Sorry stranger, but I haven’t the nearest lick of an idea who that is,” he said through his thin scarf.

“Shame. He was an old friend, haven’t seen him for a while so guess he’s likely dead. This town sure could use a sheriff like him.”

His eyes lit up and the serious expression melted from his face.

“Pour the Dadgum whiskey Sawyer and meet me at the back table,” he said as the friendly demeanor I remembered returned to his eyes.

I poured him a shot of my best bottle and headed for our old meetin’ spot. It was a slow, sultry day, so I had time to chat.

“So, what brings you by our little slice of purgatory? Come to pay yer tab?”

He scoffed, half in solemn agreement, half out of humor. “I plan to finally set things right, if you catch my drift.”

“I think I do. How many men you brought? Johnson has about half a dozen men to keep us in line these days. All with trainin’ in pyromancy.”

“You’re looking at it.”

“Able, you better have a dern good plan or be kiddin’ with me, ‘cause if you’re not, you might as well go put a rope ‘round your neck and save some trouble for us all.”

“I’ve got you a plan right here.” He reached inside his tan poncho and pulled out a small wood carving of a raven strung on leather with yellow and red beads.

“Ah, so you do have some magic up yer sleeve. That’s a relief. I hope you’ve done a whole heck of a lot of trainin’ the last six years, ‘cause you’re sure going to need it with these odds.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, swallowing the last of his whiskey and getting up.

“Where ya headed?” I asked.

“To cause a ruckus.”

With that, he stepped out the door. I high-tailed it up to my living quarters to watch. Able walked to the middle of the street about 20 yards from the sheriff’s office. He strung the raven trinket over his neck, hid it under his Pancho, and pulled a coin out of his pocket. He stood there for a bit, silently. Most didn’t recognize him at first, but some did. Whispers spread quick in this town, and it wasn’t long before Johnson was walking out of the sheriff’s office with his men.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?”

“Yeah… and I told you to hang yourself, so I guess neither of us are very good listeners.”

“Bold of you to come here unarmed.”

“I got this,” Able said, holding up the tarnished coin in his hand.

“If you want to bribe me, you’ll need a whole heck of a lot more than that.”

“Good thing I came to kill ya then.”

“Ha! Now I’ve heard it all! This won’t take long, go ahead, and take care of him.” At Johnson’s word, his deputies, who all had a charred trinket in the shape of a fox around their necks, bellowed flames that were as untrained and dangerous as they were from their hands. Able swung his hand as if to swat away an incessantly buzzing fly, sending out a strong wind to extinguish their attack.  Then he flipped the coin he had. He manipulated the air like a master conductor controls an orchestra to send the coin flying like a bullet through the air. The coin spun and whizzed around the deputies, gliding through each man’s throat before slowing and returning to Ables’ hand.  As their lifeless bodies fell in unison with a thud, Johnson looked at Able, finally realizing what he was up against.

“Well, you ready to duel?” Able said calmly and coolly.

Johnson turned to run, but before he could get far Able sent a gust of wind to pull him back like a puppeteer to a marionette and gripped him by the throat.

“Yer gonna duel me, you two-faced coward!” Able hissed before releasing Johson, who fell to his knees to catch his breath.

Able walked across the square as he recited some clandestine incantation under his breath and a gleaming barrier of light encircled the two men, trapping them within the center of town.

“How abouts we do parlor rules?” Johnson sneered.

“Nah, you and your cronies have about put the parlor out of business if the traffic in there is anything to go by. I think to the death is only fittin’.”

“Well, I guess I should’ve learned my lesson last time. Don’t say I didn’t try to let you off easy.” Johnson pulled some cloth from his pocket and began to wrap his fists, “Come on, let’s get this over with quick so I can start searching for some new deputies.” He jabbed bouts of fire while he hopped around, reenacting moves from the boxing rings where he learned to wield a flame. “Don’t feel bad, when I’m done with you, a few burns are going to look like heaven in comparison.”

Able pulled his scarf down below his mouth and revealed his burnt, mangled lower jaw. A chill ran down my spine at the sight. He pulled a coin purse out from his poncho and dumped it on the ground. Then he pulled a pair of whip sticks forth like the ones fur traders had shown off in the parlor after trading with the natives, but far less flashy. He started to jump and dance like the natives did, but slower and without swinging the whips.

“Are we fightin’ or dancing?” Johnson shouted from across the square.

“Sorry, I saw you hoppin’ round, figured I’d better do the same.”

“Don’t you be smart with me!” Johnson said as he punched a small, sloppy fireball at Able who quickly blew it to the side with one of his whips.

“That’s quite the task, considerin’ your intellect.”

“Quit playin’ darn it!” Johnson jabbed another fireball at Able who deflected it again with ease.

“All right, have it your way.” Able smiled, or at least I think that’s what it was, and began to dance like he had before, but now he spun the whips.

“Quit dancin’ and fight me! This is a dual, not a recital!”

Able paid him no mind. He was stompin’ the ground and spinnin’ about. It didn’t seem to do much, but a light breeze picked up when he began. Even from the parlor balcony, I could see the rage and fear building in Johnson’s face. He jabbed a few more fireballs out, but Able deflected them as he danced without breaking pace. In fact, he was starting to dance faster. I watched in amazement at how he moved. The breeze quickened to a gust alongside him. Johnson must have had this revelation around when I did as when I looked back over to him his face was stern and pale. My heart pounded, in that moment it occurred to me that Johnson might have finally met his match.

Johnson rolled up his sleeves and Able’s pace quickened once more. The wind whipped around him and the coins that were scattered about began to lift into the air and spin. They were slow at first, but gained speed quickly and were buzzing through the air like hornets before long. Able swung one of the whips in Johnson’s direction while he danced and one of the coins launched at the mayor. He was quick to act though and punched forth a volley of fireballs that were enough to deform the coin so that it fell to the ground.

Able was undeterred. He began to sing and holler and with each stomp he kicked up a bigger and more violent cloud of dust.

“Enough of this!” Johnson shouted, “I won’t have some low-class maggot who I’ve already killed once take everything from me!” I’d never seen the mayor this angry or focused, not even when he played and eventually lost roulette. Granted he would usually threaten the winner and get his money back, but still! He began to wail at the air casting forth fireball after fire ball, all of which went into the dust cloud and disappeared. After he had shot a volley of about 20 of the buggers into the cloud he watched, as did I, as their glow swirled and spun about like gargantuan fireflies within Able’s obscured half of the square. Eventually one of the fireflies ate all the rest and a small sun seemed to be burning within the dust storm. Johnson stood ready to face what was inevitably heading his way. The single massive fire ball shot through the dust and headed towards Johnson. It approached him with staggering speed, and he punched it once, then twice, and sent it back to Able. Who sent it back again, but quicker in pace. Johnson, who was now breathing heavily and glinted in the midday light, smashed his fists into the massive inferno barreling towards him. He shouted as his fists crashed against it. Once, twice, and a third time, as it sped back at Able. Able’s wind was straining to redirect it now, with the edge almost breaking out of the back of the dust, but it was redirected at Johnson once more, faster yet. I saw that this would be the last time. Fortunately, Johnson didn’t. The mayor, once again braced to deflect it. His hulking hands crashed against the great conflagration he had created, once, twice, a third, and as he delt the fourth blow, he roared in pain as the coins that had been trailing behind the inferno whizzed around the blaze and tore through Johnson’s arms and legs. Able used the wind to send the orb of flame barreling into the heavens, as he emerged from the storm to inspect the damage.

“Alright Boy…” Johnson said between groans of agony, “You win, go ahead, end me. Get that sweet revenge I know you’re so hungry for”

“You yellowbellied sorry excuse for a man.”  Able snarled as he leaned down and ripped the trinket from his neck before crushing it beneath his boot. “You are right about one thing though, every night since the fire, I’ve dreamed about how to end your sorry life. At first, I was going to let ya off easy; send a coin right through your skull, I mean that’s all you think about up there anyways right? But that’d be too easy too… kind. Oh no, the more I thought about it, you didn’t give Mary and my little boy that chance now did ya? To be let off easy, to have a… kind ride to those pearly gates. So, I think I’ll give you the same treatment.” As the final words left his lips, Able shot wind at Johnson, sending him flying into the back wall of the sheriff’s office with such force I could hear the walls crack as he hit. Then he mustered the strongest winds I’d seen in my life to crack the supports toppling the building in on itself. He then pulled a match and some kindling from his pocket. He built a fire that quickly took to the dry desert wood that used to be the sheriff’s office. He sat there and watched as Johnson pleaded from within to be let out. As the fire grew so did Johnson’s screams. Able just stood there solemnly feeding the fire with a light breeze and preventing its spread with targeted gusts. Once that tyrant’s screaming had been snuffed out by the fire, Able went ahead and snuffed it out as well.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked down to the street below. I saw Able using his magic to guide the coins back into the small bag they started in.

I went out to where he stood and said, “Well, now that it’s done, what’re you goin’ to do now?”

“Don’t know, but here’s what I owe ya,” he said as he slipped one more coin in and handed me the purse.

“Well, howbouts another whiskey? First one’s on me.”

“Sounds like a fine place to start,” he said as we walked back into the parlor to catch up.