Tea At Two
a Weird West short story by BamBoncher
the following story was written in answer to the Iron Age Media’s April 24th, 2024 picture prompt “The Pair”.
I am including the image itself at the end of the story because it does give away something of a surprise in the story itself!
Tea at Two
By BamBoncher
A cloud of dust rose from the desert floor in a slowly spreading billow through the summer sky, kicked up by nearly fifty gunmen riding hell bent for leather across the barren landscape. The men were rough and filthy and as wild looking as the mustangs they rode, armed to the teeth with gleaming pistols and long, wicked knives strapped to belts or bandoleers. The butts of long guns stuck out from saddle holsters, while others rode with swords and machetes hanging at their sides. Their eyes focused with predatory intent toward the western horizon and the undefended village that lay just beyond the hills.
The leader, a rangy, bearded man with an air of menace, rode a powerful black horse a length or two ahead of the pack. A black sombrero, decorated with a glittering skull-shaped medallion at the crown, shaded his face from the glare of the afternoon sun, and his long gray serape streamed from his shoulders like demon wings in the wind. He scanned the road ahead with rheumy eyes and smiled with satisfaction. It was empty. No posse waited for them. No sentries watched to give warning to the town. There would be no time for the settlers to prepare a defense against him and his men. He chuckled. The village was a sitting goose, fat and ripe for the plucking.
A solid shape in the middle of the road seemed to come into focus within the dancing heat waves ahead. He frowned and squinted against the harsh sun. As they grew closer, the shape came more into focus, the shape of what looked to be a table and two chairs set up beneath a white gauzy umbrella. Calls from the men behind him echoed forward as they too caught sight of the incongruous scene. Even more bewildering was the lone figure of what looked to be a woman sitting calmly at the table, watching them ride ever closer. He raised a fist and the band slowed to a stop. The woman sat primly in her seat, never moving, even as the bandits surrounded her. The leader chewed intently on his cigar and nudged his horse a few steps forward before reining him to a stop. He leaned forward on the horn of his saddle and studied the scene.
There was the table, the two chairs, the umbrella and the woman. There were no signs of how she came to be on the road. No horse stood patiently nearby, no wagon parked to the side. There weren’t any tracks marking the ground to indicate one had even come and gone. There was nothing beyond the cacti, the rocks, the scrub - and her. She wore a dark colored skirt topped with a frilly blouse and a broad-brimmed hat held down by a wide red scarf. A large ruby brooch glinted from beneath her chin. Her hands lay in her lap, though now that he was close, he could see that she held a small red lizard cupped in her gloved palm. She stroked it gently with one finger. The animal watched him as well with unblinking yellow eyes.
He raised his gaze to meet hers, and they stared at each other. After a few moments, he took the cigar from his mouth and leaned back. “Well, what do we have here?” He flicked the ash from the burning stub. “You seem to be far from home, Senorita. What are you doing here in the middle of nowhere, blocking a busy road?” Snickers from his men echoed around him.
She raised her chin. “I am waiting for you, of course.”
He laughed in disbelief. “Waiting for us?”
“Yes. It is a hot day, would you not agree? And you have been riding all morning through this parched landscape for quite a distance. I expect you are tired and thirsty and would appreciate refreshment.” She continued to pet the lizard, never moving her eyes from his.
His men laughed at her answer. “You are offering us refreshment, Senorita?” a man to his right guffawed. “I see no jugs or bottles. What refreshment do you have?”
Another bandit nudged the first. “Perhaps she means a different kind of refreshment, Amigo,” he leered knowingly. Several others laughed.
Her eyes flicked to the sneering bandits, and a muscle in her cheek twitched in irritation. “I mean nothing of that kind. I am simply offering you afternoon tea and sandwiches, nothing more.” She ignored the laughs from the men around her.
“Tea?”
“There’s nothing there!”
“Tequila would be more like it!”
“The woman is loco!”
The leader glanced at his men. “I see,” he mused. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully, studying her with narrowed eyes. He suddenly smiled and waved his hand toward the barren table. “We are indeed thirsty, hungry men and would gladly accept your offer of hospitality, Senorita, but alas, I see nothing but an empty table.”
“If you wish to partake of my offering, Sir, then please kindly dismount from your horses and dust yourselves off and I shall set the table.” Impatience colored the woman’s voice, but she remained still except for the steady stroking of one finger across her pet’s head. The lizard continued to watch him.
The leader chuckled along with his men’s loud laughter at the absurdity of the situation. He looked from his men to the woman then to the desert surrounding them before giving his men a nod and swinging down from his saddle. “My humblest apologies, Senorita,” he bowed low and swept his sombrero from his head with a flourish, “we agree to accept your offering.” Creaking leather and clinking metal punctuated the air as his men followed his lead.
The woman tilted her head, watching him settle the sombrero back into its place. Once the last bandit’s feet hit the ground, she set the lizard on the table beside her. “Very well.”
She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled a dainty white handkerchief and a small, unassuming silver box into the light. She spread the white linen square out on the center of the table, then flicked the box open and tilted it over the cloth. A small, glittering ball of silver and several more of porcelain tumbled into sight. She slipped the empty box back into her pocket while waving the fingers of her free hand towards the table and speaking a few words in a foreign language.
The leader froze. A red light began to pulse within the brooch she wore at her throat and he felt an invisible electrical charge raise the hair on his arms and neck as the air above the table shimmered in a dancing reddish haze. The balls trembled then move, growing and twisting in size. The handkerchief lifted an inch above the table and stretched tight of its own accord, widening and lengthening until it had become the size of a tablecloth that billowed out and settled down gracefully over the tabletop. The silver ball flattened as it grew into the shape of an elegant serving tray filled with dainty cucumber sandwiches; the porcelain balls into a tea service. With a final glint, everything stilled and the light within the ruby brooch winked out. The little red lizard, unfazed by what had just happened, wandered over to the tray and sniffed at its contents.
Several men shouted out in surprise and drew their pistols with shaky hands.
“Que pasa!”
“Madre de Muerta!”
“She is a sorceress!”
The woman ignored them and calmly turned her gaze back to the leader. She motioned to the empty chair. “Please. Come and sit.”
The leader straightened and laid a hand on the pistol at his side. “Who are you?” he demanded hoarsely.
She folded her hands in her lap and met his questioning eyes with a languid gaze. “I am one who has come to offer you hospitality and the opportunity to redirect your intentions before folly falls upon you and your men.”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You are the dread Muerte Negra Bandidos, are you not? The legendary gang of marauders who have raped and plundered your way across three territories and inspire dread and fear across the southwest? And are you not Carlos Montillo, their leader, who has several substantial bounties from elves, dwarves and men levied against you, dead or alive?” She poured hot tea into two cups before picking up the spoon from the sugar bowl. “Would you like sugar in your tea?”
The men murmured amongst themselves, uneasy at this strange turn of events.
Montillo scratched at his chin again and surveyed the surrounding landscape intently. Nothing stirred. He turned back to the woman, making no move towards the empty chair. “You know who we are,” he said at last, “which leaves me even more perplexed than before, Senorita. Just what is a woman doing all alone in the middle of the desert? I do not believe it is to simply offer us tea and sandwiches. You are a magic user - a sorceress or perhaps a witch. What does one such as yourself wish from one such as I?”
The woman scooped two spoonfuls of sugar into one cup and stirred the contents. She held the saucer in one hand as she took a sip of her drink. “As I said, Senor, I wish to dissuade you from your intended path.”
He regarded her with a calculating frown. “And just what path is that?”
“Well obviously, as this road leads to the free town of Rocas del Fuego and you are notorious marauders who have already razed a string of towns and villages along the way, you intend to attack and destroy said town.” She took another sip from her cup, watching him across its brim. “I happen to be somewhat fond of certain folk in that village and thus have come to intercept you and ask that you please turn back and leave the town and its inhabitants alone.”
He barked a laugh in disbelief. “You cannot be serious!”
She calmly set her saucer on the table. “Oh, I am quite serious, Senor. Please, enjoy the provided repast, refresh yourselves, and then kindly turn around and return to your hideout wherever it is.”
He laughed again. The absurdity of the situation was amusing. “Please? And just what would you offer us in return for us granting your request, other than the tea and sandwiches?”
“Your lives, of course.”
“Our lives?” he choked. “You may be a sorceress, but it would take much more than simple parlor tricks to stop us, Senorita. You must know this. We are blessed by the Lady Muerta and cannot be killed so easily. Ordinary weapons are of no use against us, no army has been able to stand against us and no wizard has penetrated the charms that protect us. Even with your magic, you are alone against so many and at this moment have rifles pointed at you from all sides. Should you start another spell, my men will cut you down before the words leave your lips.”
The sound of ratcheting bolts echoed around her. Montillo’s smile grew dark. “If you are truly alone.” he drew long on his cigar, releasing the smoke with a slow breath through his nostrils while he regarded the area around them once more. “I begin to believe you are here as a distraction, the bait in a trap. Though surely, as you know who we are, you should be very aware of the terrible danger you are in at this moment. Do you truly think the army you must have hiding in the rocks could act in time to save you?”
The woman stood to her feet with a sigh. “I can assure you there is no army in hiding here.” She returned his smile with a wolfish one of her own. “I don’t need an army to deal with you.”
The bandit leader’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” he hissed. “You who do not bear the emblems of the high wizards, nor the robes of the learned sorcerers, nor the markings of the great enchanters. Who are you to think you can defeat the power of the Lady of Death? We have crushed armies in her name! We have destroyed the most powerful sorcerers and wizards who have stood against us! The great Elven sorcerer Osamu, the dwarven wizard Abd al-Aziz, the enchantress Bothildr - all were trampled beneath our boots!”
His eyes swept her figure from head to foot, and he snorted. “You are nothing more than a conjurer of cheap parlor tricks. Behold the power of the lady! Behold and tremble!”
The surrounding light darkened as the wind stirred, rustling the folds of the woman’s skirts. The ground trembled beneath their feet. The bandits stood still even as the flesh of their bodies began to blacken and wither, their hair and beards to whiten and dry out. Their eyes sank to pinpricks of pale light within their exposing skulls and they leered at her with ghoulish smiles from blackened, shriveled lips. Behind them, their horses grew thin with leathery hides stretched over cadaverous frames, the white bones of their legs and noses bursting through the taut skin.
The leader’s black was the most terrifying of all, becoming a monstrous, snake-like figure with furious red eyes shining from deep within its angular skull and lips that pulled back to expose a mouthful of shark-like teeth. A blackened horn burst from the skin between its eyes while its mane hardened into needle sharp spikes and its hooves thickened to resemble claws.
Montillo’s body blackened and thinned into an imposing, skeletal figure and his eyes deepened to pinpricks of menacing light within their sockets. Spikes split the skin of his arms and face and his hands lengthened into sharp claws while his canines sharpened into dripping fangs. The medallion of the lady of death shone with an unearthly light above his head.
The woman did not move as her eyes slowly scanned the skeletal band before settling back on their demonic leader. She pursed her lips. “I take it that you are refusing my offer?”
Montillo breathed a laugh, causing the cigar still held between his exposed teeth to flair. “Kill her,” he commanded. “And leave her body for the buzzards.” He turned to remount his now devilish horse.
“So much for the easy way,” the woman sighed, glancing down at her pet lizard with a knowing look. She dropped a small orb she had palmed to the ground at her feet and ducked as several rounds punched the air where she had stood.
Instantly, smoke filled the area, obscuring her form.
The bandits yelled in surprise and shot blindly into the smoke.
Fire burst to life within the billows, shooting sparks high into the air even as the pillar soared higher and grew thicker. A strong updraft began to pull and shape the smoke into a column of undulating debris while flames twisted and writhed within the maelstrom, merging to become a roaring inferno.
The bandits shouted in surprise and dread and scrambled away from the furiously swirling flames. “It is a trick!” Montillo yelled impatiently at his men while he emptied his revolver into the flames. “Shoot her!”
A dark shape coalesced within the fire. In the single blink of an eye, the shape grew taller; in another blink, it widened in girth. Twin white lights flared to life near the top of the swirling fire cloud, nearly thirty feet off the ground. The fire cloud flashed again, then went dark before dissipating into the summer sky.
A magnificent dragon burst through the remaining veil of smoke and let loose a mighty roar that shook the earth beneath its massive clawed feet. Its serpentine body shone with glistening red-gold scales that coated its body from its head to the tip of its long, winding tail, and twin golden horns graced the top of its angular head. Whiskers hung from either side of smoking nostrils and from its chin. It reared up onto its back legs and regarded the bandits with flaming yellow eyes. With another ground shaking roar, it lunged in attack, snapping up a horse with its razor teeth and slashing at the men with its terrible claws.
The bandits’ horses screamed in terror and reared away from the monstrous beast, breaking free from their masters and fleeing heedlessly down the road. The bandits on the ground frantically scrambled backwards, attempting to avoid the teeth and claws of the beast. Those near the back of the line broke and sprinted down the road, following their panicking mounts.
The dragon drew in a deep breath and blew a stream of molten brimstone from its belly into a raging swath of burning sulfur that swept from one side of the road to the other. The fiery stream blanketed the fleeing bandits and horses, instantly disintegrating them to ash with a flash and brief screams of agony. Their forms remained for a moment like effigies, before the wind dissolved their dust into nothing. The dragon’s mighty tail swept other bandits into the blazing conflagration.
The dragon dropped to its feet and swiftly wound its way behind the remaining bandits, trapping them between his body and the flames. It lunged towards them, snatching two into its mouth, cutting them in half with a snap of its teeth. Some marauders had the presence of mind to fire their rifles and shotguns at the beast but bullets were of little effect against its iron scales. The dragon stomped a bandit flat beneath its huge clawed foot and slurped another down in a single gulp.
Occasionally, red glowing streaks would accompany the sound of a pistol firing and a bandit would jerk and slump to the ground before dissolving into a pile of ash. The woman occasionally flashed into view, firing her pistol into the fray before disappearing back behind the dragon before an enemy could draw a bead on her and return fire.
A few marauders whipped medallions from their pockets and attempted to conjure a spell of warding, but a well placed bullet or a swipe of a claw put an end to any magical reprisal or defense. Montillo cursed loudly and pushed backwards, keeping his remaining few men between him and the beast as he grasped the dark black medicine bag that hung around his neck and began chanting a spell of his own. The bag pulsed and writhed with his words while a dark, oily black ball formed and grew larger in his raised palm. He shouted the final words of his chant and threw the ball towards the beast.
“Behind you!” A feminine shout of warning accompanied by the shot of a pistol alerted the dragon to the attack, giving it time to whirl around and fire a salvo of burning brimstone that met the ball in midair in a blinding explosion. The shockwave from the blast reverberated through the ground like an earthquake, knocking the remaining bandits to their knees. A fiery dart immediately followed the echo of the shot, piercing Montillo’s medicine bag and punching through his chest. The bag pulsed angrily against the golden fire spreading across its surface before disintegrating in a bright flash of light. Montillo screamed in anger, clutching at his chest in agony. He looked down in shock to see black blood dripping from between his fingers.
Seeing the dragon destroying the last of his men, he cursed and swung into the saddle of his demonic mount. The power he had remaining was no match for such a beast and the feeling of pain and the blood flowing from the wound in his chest chilled him. For the first time in a very long time, he feared for his life!
He swung the horse around and kneed it into a run straight towards the molten barricade, kicking it into a high jump to clear the obstacle. The animal sailed through the air but suddenly jerked hard as a flaming bullet from the woman’s pistol pierced its side just behind the front shoulder, exploding out its chest with a shower of blood and throwing off course. Beast and rider fell into a heap on the other side.
The bandit leader shook his head and shifted, but found himself trapped beneath the dead weight of his mount. A shadow fell over him and he looked up into the yellow eyes of the dragon. The creature swept away the burning rock with his tail to clear a path forward and pressed his claws against the hide of the dead horse. Twin wisps of smoke trailed from its lips and fire glowed from the depths of its belly.
“Hold!”
Montillo turned to see the woman approach from behind the dragon, walking towards him while running a soothing hand along the dragon’s hide. She held a smoking pistol pointed directly at him with the other. She knelt beside him and regarded him with a cool look.
“No weapon can kill us,” he choked. “How? How did you cut down my men?”
She held the pistol in his line of sight. “Even Death has her weaknesses. It was quite difficult to uncover, but my research finally led me to learn that magentium could be alloyed with baser metals and forged with dragon fire to penetrate her charms. I had this pistol and its bullets specially made for this occasion.” She smiled. “Though I must admit that finding a dragon to aid me in my quest was quite the challenge.”
“Who are you?” he demanded hoarsely.
She cocked her head to the side. “No one special. Just the one who will claim that mighty bounty on your head.” She pulled his sombrero free from his head, then patted his cheek. “You really should have accepted my terms, you know.”
She stood to her feet, meeting his stare with her grim blue eyes, and her smile turned flint hard. “Give my regards to the Lady when you see her.”
She stepped to the side, allowing the dragon access to its prey, and watched it consume Montillo and his mount in three bites. She shook her head in amusement as the beast sat back in satisfaction, looking inordinately proud of itself, and looked around at the burning piles of rock and ash scattered around the road. “You have made quite the mess, Theodore.”
The dragon’s scales glowed a bright red and folded in on themselves, shrinking the beast down to the shape of a well-dressed man in a blink of reddish light. He coughed slightly into his fist and straightened the cuffs of his red velvet jacket as he looked around the scene. “Dispatching the minions of the Liche Queen is hardly clean work, Miranda,” he sniffed in distaste. “I will have indigestion for a week. Montillo and his nightmare horse were particularly greasy.”
“I am just happy we succeeded in our little ambush. I was rather uneasy when I saw the number of men riding toward us. Reports had said he only had thirty men, not fifty. I admit I was rather afraid we would not be able to deal with them all.”
“Pshaw,” Theodore snorted. “They were an unruly lot barely held together. The only one who was a true threat was Montillo. He was the one filled with the Queen’s power; the others were nothing more than minions bound to him. Now they are simply piles of dirt to add to the rest of the filth of the desert.” He kicked gently at one of the said piles of ash near his boot and watched the particles scatter across the road.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Nevertheless, Montillo was no simpleton. We caught him by surprise, is all. Had he had time to call upon his queen’s power, even you would have been hard pressed.” She fingered the emblem of the Death Queen that glittered at the front of the sombrero’s crown. “Still, you did good work.”
“Of course I did.” Theodore smoothed the front of his brocade waistcoat. “And the money we shall get for turning in the bounty on Montillo and his gang will allow us to live in style for quite a long time.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We shall need to leave the area after turning in the bounty; it will be difficult to avoid the notoriety for taking on such a prominent menace.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Miranda cast him a sideline glance as she pulled the silver box from her pocket and held it up to the sun, directing the light towards the western horizon. She flashed the box three times before putting it back into her pocket. “You could always keep the form of my little pet lizard to deter any suspicion of you. You made a quite adorable little thing.”
His face screwed up in disgust at the thought and she grinned before turning her eyes back to the horizon. Her smile faded. “I suppose you are right,” she sighed. “Uncomfortable questions will be asked, questions that I will be hard pressed to deter, not after these events. A bother it is. I had grown fond of Rocas del Fuego. It is a quaint little village and has its charms.”
“It is a dirty little hovel filled with the most mundane of citizenry and I for one am more than ready to quit its borders for something more to my taste and class.” Theodore dusted the sleeves of his jacket. “Deserts are always so hard on the haberdashery.”
Miranda ignored his fussing. “Though I am hoping that the constabulary from Fort Driver will believe our story of stumbling upon the dying bandits having apparently destroyed each other in an argument over their ill-gotten gains. While I believe the human captain will be readily fooled, I am not so sure about the Elven kojo. Elves are such a suspicious lot.”
“I shall leave that to you. You have a much more innocent mien than I and are much more believable.” Theodore grimaced. “I do not understand why I am such a figure of suspicion.”
Miranda laughed. “The troubles of dragons. You may be able to change your shape, but you cannot quite hide your aura.”
The rattle of carriage wheels coming down the road caught their attention, and they watched as the gilded coach drew up beside them. “I see you were successful, Signore, Signora,” the halfling coachman called down from the driver’s seat. “Congratulations.”
The twin bay horses shifted in their traces and snorted, uneasy with the smell of brimstone and dragon in the air. Miranda rubbed the nose of the closest one soothingly. “Thank you, Paulo.” She turned to her companion. “Shall we depart? I would like to get out of this heat, and the afternoon tea at the hotel in Rocas del Fuego is particularly refreshing.”
Theodore tipped his red leather hat at her and pulled open the carriage door. He swept his arm out elegantly. “After you, my dear.”
Miranda tossed the sombrero into the coach and settled onto the finely tooled leather seat. She smoothed her skirts as Theodore followed her within and shut the door. He leaned through the window and slapped the side of the carriage. “Let us depart, Paulo!”
The halfling nodded and with a click of his tongue and a slap of the reins, he started the horses moving.
Theodore crossed his legs as he settled back into his seat and pulled a cigarillo from his pocket. He snapped his fingers and a small sliver of flame flashed into the air right above his hand. He lit his cigar, then waved the flame out and took a few puffs while watching the landscape moving by through the window. “This territory is rather tiring, do you not agree? I think we should consider relocating to a better climate to enjoy our hard-won gains. Perhaps San Francisco? Or would you prefer to venture east to New Orleans?”
“Oh, not New Orleans, not at this time of the year.” Miranda pursed her lips. “Northward would be rather interesting. San Francisco is such a rowdy place, however. I would much prefer something quieter. Maybe Seattle? Or perhaps Portland or Vancouver?”
Theodore grimaced. “Seattle and Vancouver are so dreary with the rain. They are much more suited to a water drake than I. Besides. I have heard rumors that there have been some unrest in the dens in that area, something about a dragon from the old world trying to make inroads in the networks in that region. It could be quite the messy affair and I’d much rather avoid the whole lot.”
“Ah well, we can make the decision later, once we have collected our bounty.” Miranda patted the hat that lay beside her. “Meanwhile, I am looking forward to a nice cup of tea and perhaps a cucumber sandwich and a local newspaper to peruse. Who knows? We may find a lead there to give us direction.”
“No sandwiches for me. I am quite full,” Theodore replied, then raised a hand to cover an unexpected belch. “Excuse me. Make mine a mint tea. Those banditos are not settling well on my stomach.”
Miranda laughed and patted his knee consolingly. “Poor thing. You can distract yourself while you compose the opening scene of your next novel. I can see the title now: ‘The Demise of the Bandits of the Black Death’.”
“That is a terrible title, though not a bad idea,” Theodore mused, his curious yellow eyes glinting in contemplation. “Perhaps ‘Death takes Tea’, or ‘Death’s Gambit Lost’.”
The lady laughed again. “Well, you can follow that train of thought. I am tired and believe I shall attempt to take a short nap before we arrive in town.” She laid her head against the padded seat back and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift while listening in amusement to her companion’s mutters. It was a job well done, she thought to herself.
The carriage crested the hill and started down the other side at an easy pace towards Rocas del Fuego. Behind it, a stir of wind scattered the ashy piles across the desert floor and cooled the brimstone rocks.
Thus was all that remained of the terrible bandit gang Muerte Negra Bandidos, servants of the Lady Death.
A good job indeed.
THE END
This little story is a surprise to me - I saw the prompt this past weekend and something began bubbling under the surface, pressing me to write. Usually, I try to have an outline in mind, a path to follow, but this story was written entirely into the dark and its twists were as much a discovery to me as they were to you!
Of course, now I have two brand new characters to join the peanut gallery already residing in my mind, and they are clamoring to be written into more stories, reminding me how much I found myself enjoying the blend of fantasy and classic westerns.
So let me know in the comments if you liked Miranda and Theodore and if you’d like to see more adventures with these two!
If you enjoyed this story, please visit the Iron Age Media Website and its prompts section to find more stories in answer to this picture as well as others. A new prompt is posted every week.
https://ironage.media/prompts.html
The prompt for this story was the following picture:
Fantastic idea that really surprised me in the direction of the genre. I really felt like I was reading a western. Nice work.