Art watched the duel with no small amount of stress, flinching at some of the louder sounds. He wished they hadn't picked explosion spells, because even if no one had gotten wrenched apart surely that was the sort of thing that could kill people, and he also sort of wished he had brought something to drink. There were arrows then, all of a sudden, and surely more than one of them had hit Macmillan but Ben wasn't stopping and Art couldn't tell and as willing as he was to block them with his person if there was a pause, he wasn't about to get in the way of an arrow —

and then Macmillan collapsed and Ben stopped and it was over. "Go," Art hissed at Valerian with a handwave at Macmillan, although he was not sure he needed to tell Valerian this, as there would be no firewhiskey for anyone if someone died. He ran for Ben, still keeping a hand on his wand — for what, Art wasn't sure, but there was adrenaline in his veins, too — and Ben's shoulder was bleeding.

"Shit," Art said, looking at the gash in Ben's shoulder, which seemed — either deep or very bloody, he couldn't tell. "Can you move your hand?"

---