Chapter 13 - A Worthy Duel Part 2

Before Scala could comprehend what was happening, the spike shot through her torso, cutting straight through, like a bullet.

She stumbled backwards, before falling on her knees as the same spike ran through her left thigh. He aimed the spike at her, but before he could send it home, she shot it cleanly, corrupting it fully. She staggered back onto her feet, gritting through the pain. If he could move objects fast enough like that, mobility was paramount.

She felt something odd on her. She looked down. The blood that seeped out of her wounds was now separating from her body, floating away from her. Her blood formed a blade shape; she recognized instantly what it wanted to do, and broke it apart in two shots before it could do anything. She squinted at Peter. His previously black hair turned a light brown, and his eyes turned a brilliant red, like a perfectly cut ruby. She hadn't seen him before, or this type of magic before, so why did it seem so oddly familiar?

Then, it hit her: Peter could manipulate her blood because his power was controlling blood. In other words, he was a blood mage.

The two remained still. She held her revolver steadily, ready for anything else being sent in her direction. He still held his arms out, wondering how to sneak in an attack. She wondered if it was a good idea to continue the duel, or even if she had a choice; he looked mighty pissed right now. He might not be in the right mind to stop fighting. But on the other hand, he got her good, and in her current state, she couldn't be fighting a blood mage, even if the most he'd done was cut her with his own blood. Not when he could use her blood against her.

She pointed her revolver to the sky and fired, spending her last bullet. He instinctively dove behind cover again, trying to hide his body from above. But as time went on, he realized the bullet wouldn't be coming down any soon. He peeked out; she'd put her revolver away, clapping her hands slowly.

"Well done, Peter!" She shouted. "I haven't had wounds like these for two years! Now that I know what ya deal is, how about we stop?"

"And let you rat me out to the rest of your company? Not a chance."

"Who said anything about ratting anyone out? This fight was for me, and only me. What happened here in this forest stays between us, and if I ever speak a word about your actual power is, ya have the right to kill me on the spot. That's a promise from an Outworlder to another, and I'm a woman of my word!"

He analyzed Scala's movements, wondering if she was bluffing. But seeing nothing inherently wrong, he sighed and put his hands up. "Fine. We're done. But no more fighting like this, you hear me?"

"I hear ya loud and clear! Now, if ya could just come up here and carry my bag, that would be quite wonderful."

"And why would I need to do that?"

"Carrying things gets a tad harder with a hole in ya leg, don't ya think?"

"Oh, right."

. . .

Everyone sat around the wagon, waiting for the two to arrive.

The cowboys played blackjack with one another, betting imaginary chips with each game as the man watched with interest. They invited Maya and the Elf to join them, saying they'd teach them how to play, but the two refused. They were still far too weary of these total strangers, and more importantly, about why that figure specifically carried Peter away. The gunshots definitely didn't help, although the cowboys seemed pretty lax about it. "It's probably just one of her weird shenanigans again," one of them said. 

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Maya muttered.

The Elf shrugged. "I have no idea how well he can fight. I haven't seen him in one. But it takes a lot of skill to beat a bullet."

Maya gripped her rifle, feeling more concerned than ever. As sunset arrived, they heard rustling in the bushes behind them, signaling the two's return. Everyone except the man stood and turned around; the cowboys got in position to welcome their leader back, while Maya and the Elf waited to see if two would emerge from the forest, or if one would.

Their question was answered with the emergence of two: Peter, carrying a duffel bag while supporting a weary Scala.

Seeing the wounds on her, the cowboys immediately went for their guns. But before any could draw, Scala gestured them to stop. "Hold it. Do not shoot him."

Hesitantly, the cowboys obeyed, instead taking Scala off of Peter to treat her injuries. Maya and the Elf sat Peter down against the wagon, taking a closer look at the bullet wound. "Jesus, what did you guys do to each other?"

"We had a... a friendly duel. That's all."

Maya frowned. "A friendly duel? She shot you! You're bleeding right now! We have to patch this up somehow!"

The Elf fetched a roll of bandage from her kit. "I've got this. Hold on." She also got out an iron bar. "Are you stable enough to spark this?"

He nodded and conjured spark, heating one end of the bar up. Before he realized what she meant to do, she pressed the ends of the hole together and pressed the bar against the wound, cauterizing it. He gritted his teeth, almost letting a scream out. After what felt like an eternity to him, she stopped, making sure the wound was burnt closed, then wrapped it with a bandage.

"It's not the best, but we don't have much else. We might have to stop by a town, get a doctor to look at it."

Maya nodded, a concerned look on her face.

"And try not to use that arm too much. We don't want it opening up again. Got it?"

He weakly nodded. He turned his head to look at Scala, who was already patched up by her crew. She stood up and gave him a thumbs up. As everyone prepared to start heading out, the man had a sudden realization, something he'd forgotten about because of all the fighting.

His wagon was still broken.