Boone stopped, tilting his hat upward, nose wrinkled. With the men down, screaming, he looked to his revolver glowing blue, sunken in the earth.
"I'm blinded, Boyd. That boy used some voodoo magic ..."
"Shut the hell up and find him."
In a blur, Boone leaped for his gun, rolling, swiping it from the earth. He found himself on one knee. The barrel on target. Hand trembling, he squeezed.
The power of the gun sent him backward while a blue flare drove into Boyd's chest. A clean shot. He hollered. Cackles and pops rising. Bluish-white energy swelled over the man as he crystallized. Skin palish-blue.
There was a loud boom.
Froze body particles projected in every direction. Brenand flew, crashing against the canyon, ice shards pelting him against the wall.
Boone dove. Chunks splattered overhead. Once the earth settled, he rose to his feet. Gun raised. Breath heavy.
"Damn ... I didn't expect that." Boone smirked, keeping his gun drawn on Brenard who laid under blue-shimmering debris. He checked him twice then looked north.
A rattle echoed.
He whipped around, aiming at a brimmed hat resting upside down. Boone approached cautiously. Sweat beading on his forehead. Another rattle had him cock his gun. Two feet away, he leaned close.
From the blackness, a shadow struck. Boone stumbled backward, blood dripping from his palm. His hand trembled, arm screaming from the burning sensation moving up his arm.
Boone brought his hand to his eyes, groaning. Two red holes staring back. A dizzy spell sent him wobbling, light pulsing. He brought the wound to his lips, sucking, blood washing his tongue. He spat and stumbled, catching himself on the cliff wall.
Time seemed to slip away as he stumbled down the windy path. Wobbling from one leg to the next. The weight of his body pulling him towards the ground.
"I'm not going to make it ..."
He halted. The world around him spinning. Light flashing clockwise around him. Boone's blinked once more then his weight brought him to the earth.
***
Boone felt his eyes flicker open. A green-eyed beauty, with ravishing black hair stared back.
He mumbled, "I must be dead ... "
"I think it worked." Olivica's voice was sweet as honey.
From her back, a raven-haired boy puffed on a pipe. Eyebrows raised. "Welcome back to the living," Quincy said, "that'll cost you for our services."
Boone rubbed his head, hoping to rid the hammering pain away. "What happened ... and where am I?"
Around him a cave was lit from torchlight. The smell of dew in the air. Colored figures holding bows, spears, rifles and guns fought on the wall; colored with clay or some other type of mineral Boone was unfamiliar with.
"We found this place and sought shelter ... just until this all ended."
Boone face twisted, "you're giving up?"
Quincy puffed on his pipe, "this tournament is a blood bath ... we don't want any part in this nonsense."
Olivica touched his hands and they were warm as spring. "You nearly died. If Quincy hadn't used his rattlesnake antidote you wouldn't have made it."
"That's why it's going to cost you." He looked over at an elongated silhouette in the sand. "And him extra."
Boone looked at the man whose garments were torn to rags. Stained red. Eyes shut, hardly breathing.
"Looked to have been attacked by a grizzly."
"The man who shot him left him for dead-"
"He did no such thing," Quincy shook his head, puffing. "The bullet went clean through. I think the man didn't want him dead."
"If he didn't want him dead he would've given him a loaded gun ... that killer tricked Krix and then shot him down in cold blood." Olivica folded her arms. "Poor guy ..."
"Poor guy?" Quincy spat. "That's strawthorn ... a man who killed his father and three nieces. Why you chose to save him is beyond me."
Olivica pouted, "he seemed ok to me."
"Was that after or before he near knocked you senseless?"
Boone's body no longer ached. He felt a burst of anger drain through him. "What do you mean? He hit you?"
"Damn right he did-"
"He apologized," Olivica said, eyes trembling. "A man like this doesn't know his own strength. He just let his anger get the best of him. That's all."
"Yup." Quincy nodded. "He smacked her good ... can't even make a single rational thought."
"Go to hell. When the others were captured, instead of helping you had me use our Misty Magic to escape."
"Mist magic," Quincy laughed.
Boone's head was still spinning. "What in the blaze is Mist Magic?
"It's called, Fade Fume." Quincy said. "It was the only other thing we knew how to make other than rattlesnake venom."
Olivica smirked, "it's how I slipped the Turks."
Boone was handed a bottle of clear liquid. He popped the cork, giving it a whiff. "It's odor less ..."
"Damn right it is."
"What's it do?"
Olivica said, "we used fade fume on the farm if we're in trouble. All you do is pour the liquid into the sand and it creates a mist, near invisible to the untrained eye. If you stand behind it, anything with body heat becomes invisible."
"But you have to be smart in how you use it," Quincy puffed, "because you also can't see anybody on the other side."
Boone rubbed his chin, "and that's how you got away. Who were the others that were captured?"
Quincy and Olivica looked frightened at one another.
"There is no use going after them." Olivica said, grabbing the boy's hand once more. Boone cheeks blossomed red. "They are dead ... and if not now, they will be."
"Who?"
"The two Sheriffs."
Boone looked between them, "you mean to tell me somebody captured Jostice and Leslie?"
"Mitch and his gang. There's nothing we can do."
Boone stood to his feet. It was like the wind whipped his head; he was on the ground dizzy.
"You're still weak," Olivia said, grabbing a bottle of yellowish liquid and placed it in his hands. "You need more."
The boy didn't argue, popping the cork and taking a swing; liquid sprayed from every orifice on his face.
"You're wasting it," Quincy pulled the bottle away. "That will certainly cost you extra!"
Boone coughed and wheezed, "that taste like urine!"
"It's probably pasture viburnum ... can give the brew an undesired taste to some." Quincy laughed. "Hey!"
Boone swiped the jar and took a long, draining swig. This time keeping it down with much effort. He hacked, wiping his tongue on his sleeve.
Quincy grabbed the glass, grimacing. "And there goes the bottle."
"God awful stuff ... I'd rather drink a biting whiskey than that nonsense."
"Whiskey is good stuff."
"Your smoking and drinking has got your senses tied." Olivica spoke to Boone. "As you see, you need rest. You're too weak to be of any use."
With fighting effort, Boone raised to his feet, leaning left and right until he found his equilibrium. "I won't stay and let the people I care for die ..." He glared at them both. "You two are cowards."
Olivica lowered her green eyes, "please, Boone ..."
"We tried your way." Quincy slid his pipe into his coat then grabbed his rifle from the ground, pointing the barrel at Boone. "Now we do it my way."