Damiynn
Fantasy Author
Jashra Mollon pushed back the open end of his knit tweed coat, revealing the aged oiled leather of the crossdraw rig that he wore slung low on his left hip. The reversed holster showed the curved butt end of the pistol. The yellow brown sandalwood gleamed softly, reflecting back the overhead light from the street posts.
For a brief moment the wizard marshall considered whether or not he should pull out the large iron but decided against it. He knew the man holed up here.
"Minor," He called out in a loud, friendly sounding voice, "this isnt worth the fight your going to get if you keep this up. Why don't you just toss out your weapon and surrender and come out with your hands up."
Nothing. No sounds came forth from the old ramshackle farmhouse that had seen much better days, a long long time ago. For a moment, Jashra thought the old man might have fallen asleep. Then a heavy clanking followed by a rattle that sounded like someone tripping over a pot bellied stove filled the air.
"Isss that you Marshal Mollon," called out a reedy voice from near one of the house's broken wondow panes, "Iiis is not going anywhere, Iiis did nothing wrong."
Jash shook his head in exasperation and aggrevation.
Minor sounded like he had really tied on tonight.
"Them mens, marshall, they had it coming. They needed someone to shut their mouths for them. They shouldn't have been speaking so bad to the ladies."
Jash turned, looking back at the two local lawmen accompanying him and said jovially, "He claims he did nothing wrong gentlemen."
The two locals shook their heads. Disbelief could be seen clearly in their eyes. The older of the pair eyed Jashra's badge and said, "He killed two of those seven men he claimed he did nothing to.
"And he cut the other five within an inch of their lives with that knife of his," put in the second local
The second lawman's eyes glowed hotly and Jash saw his hand tighten around the pistol grip of his sidearm until his grip was white knuckle hot. It was apparent that the two men who had been killed must have been acquaintances of his.
"He also killed the third," growled the second lawman, "with an electrical glyph that turned him to dust and ash..there wasn''t even any boots left."
"And the witnesses said it was in self defense," put in the first lawman with a pointed look to his partner that caused him to remove his hand from his sidearm.
"Well," Jashra said, listening to their words, "that we have two sides of a story and I have only heard one. Watch my back, I am going to hear the other side.
"Marshall," asked the first local, "did you hear what we said about him and the magic? He might still have a few glyphs left and that knife of his cut through metal as easily as butter."
Jashra waved a dismissive hand, "Me and Minor go back a few days, he might want to kill me at times but he knows better." Stepping out of the circle of gas light, Jashra waved his hand over his badge, watched the glyph under it take shape and headed out towards the ramshackle house.
Can't always help that. I'm also glad you used the plural "lives." I've seen "their life" so many times it's nauseating. Nice.
