Max was gasping for breath as he turned down the side alley, almost barreling into the lithe form in front of him. Darkness shrouded them in a cloak of black, but as Max eyes adjusted, he could just make out four dim figures further down the alley.
The three wore dark blue cloaks, the hoods pulled up over their heads to veil their identities. Greasy locks of hair could be seen tumbling out of their hoods, the thin lines of their mouths just visible in the minimal light of the moon overhead. Each of them held a wooden baton in one hand, a dagger sheathed at their side. Cutpurses, Max thought with a chill.
About three meters beyond them, a small woman was curled on the ground in fright, her thin form shaking with fear. Max felt his blood boil, he would not allow her to be treated in such a way. Max had sheathed his sword when he had run after Greg, deciding to reach for it now. As his hand moved, Greg acted first, shouting, his voice echoing off the walls of the buildings on either side of them "You neanderthals! Leave her or I'll deal with you myself." His voice was full of conviction and courage, the men turning to eye and appraise him.
With a start, they realized that the young man before them could only be twenty, if that. They looked at the wood staff he held and his confident stance as he spun it slowly before him. They blanched, but only for a moment, figuring that the three of them could easily take the one figure, even if he knew his way around a staff. They ignored Max completely, mostly because they couldn't see him hidden behind Greg, especially in this minimal light.
With a burst of speed, they tore towards Greg, the ruffian in the middle leading slightly, forming a wedged shaped attack. Greg mirrored them, his motions fluid as he sprinted headlong at his foes. Lifting his staff high, a stormy silver light blossomed around him. He pushed at the air with his empty hand, as if trying to move an object. A heat wave like blur streaked forward, exploding into the group of cutpurses, knocking them this way and that like ninepins.
Max stood back in wonder, his sword long forgotten.
Two of the men moved awkwardly, lurching to their feet, staggering slightly as they prepared themselves to engage Greg, eying his staff wearily. The third lay still on the ground, incapacitated. Greg moved first, shooting forward like a rocket, swinging his staff with deadly force. Miraculously, the ruffian moved, the blow breezing by his face by mere inches. He followed up, his baton swinging in a vicious backhand towards Greg's exposed side. Max's eyes didn't register what happened next. One second the man was attacking his companion in retaliation and the next he was smashing into a wall. The body crumpled forward, landing with a small thud.
Max breathed out in amazement, Greg was just that fast. The last man didn't stand a chance.
Greg raised his hand, pulling forward as his lips moved soundlessly. The cloaked man jerked forward, crying out in dismay as he was torn off his feet with a pull of effort from Greg. The tall elemental warrior brought his left foot forward, his bow crossing his body in a diagonal slash. As the flying man reached him, he flipped the top half of his staff downward in one swift movement, the weapon crashing down on his foe, stepping to the side to avoid his fall.
Max, taking his eyes from Greg, he looked down the dark alley to where the woman still huddled pointing a fearful hand above her. Quizzically, Max raised his eyes, widening as he recognized the threat. Hurriedly, he took off down the alley, pushing Greg out of his way. A loud thrum signaled the release of an arrow.
"Get down!" Max roared. Instead, Greg raised his hand, gleaming light still shining around his body, illuminating where they stood.
Max stared forward as the arrow struck with a crack of impact, his body falling back in shock. The arrow, shaft and all, shattered into a dome of silver energy, a tiny chip where the projectile had struck. Turning, he saw Greg's crouched form, sweat dotting his forehead, running down into the collar of his cloak.
"Reducere," The orb around them shrank into Greg, who then stood wearily. He looked up at the left rooftop. The archer was gone, probably leaving soon after he let loose his arrow in fear he had missed. Max stood next to him, his sword on the cobblestone street, clutching his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath his hand.
Greg cast his eyes down the side street they were in. The woman was gone as well, without as much as a thanks for risking their necks for her. Greg shook his head sadly. it wasn't like it was the first time, he shrugged.
He looked somberly at the figure beside him, short compared to him, watching as he tried to calm himself. Greg nodded, he would be okay. Greg waited patiently as Max recovered, amusing himself by playing with the wind, directing it in turns and spirals around him. The air hummed with magic, the breeze singing as it followed his commands, adjusting as he ordered it to. He found it intriguing to see what he could do with a simple breeze. The air shifted, twisting into a small cyclone that spun figure eights around his legs. Greg looked over at Max, nodding as Max looked at the older boy uncertainly. Max blushed scarlet, his eyes darting away from Greg's gaze. He was embarrassed that he had gotten so worked up when Greg had basically done all the work for them.
He spoke under his breath, shifting his feet shyly, unlike himself "Umm, thanks." Greg grinned, noticing Max's discomfort and, unlike himself, decided not to joke about it.
"No sweat, Max. Let's head back to the park."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They stood back in the park, night still draped around the city. The trees were still, the slight breeze from earlier now gone. A lone owl hooted nearby. Torchlight flickered in the streets, casting odd shadows. The omnipresent moon had drifted below the horizon, the visibility almost nonexistent without the soft glow of the torches.
Max waited in anticipation for another display of magic, hastily moving approximately ten meters from Greg, well out of his way.
"Gustum!" Greg commanded the wind with a whirl of his staff. Greg began to glow in a bright silver-gray light. Max gasped as the wind built up with the rotations of Greg's staff and as Greg swiped in a crescent moon whirl, the wind went rippling into a bush. Max saw the blurry streak of the highly condensed air, rippling like a hazy fog line through the atmosphere. The bush exploded into twigs and shredded leaves as the wind connected just a second after it was released.
Max blinked stunned. "Wow."
As the light dimmed slowly from around Greg, he turned to face Max "This is but basic magic that can be achieved with the power of a magical artifact."
"Can I try?" Max asked excitedly. He had been itching to try from the moment he had met Greg all those weeks ago. Max had felt a certain indiscernible connection to the magic, wondering if he himself could possibly wield the wind.
Greg shrugged "Go ahead, but the way you described your battle suggest that wind is not your elemental alignment."
Max gingerly took Greg's staff, his fingers stroking the smooth wood with wonder. The runes pulsed slowly as it touched his hand. Max assumed the same raised staff position as Greg had done, squaring his shoulders and bracing his feet.
"Gustum!" Max yelled. The word seemed to roll off of his tongue; somehow it just felt right.
The staff's runes pulsed in a faint silver light. A faint color seeped from Max but it was so dull in color it could not be discerned. A soft breeze stirred in the park but nothing more. Max stood their awkwardly, wooden staff raised above his head, glad that he and Greg were the only two late night occupants. Max slowly lowered the staff with a small frown. He had been expecting more. maybe he had said the word wrong?
"That was a good sign you have magia in you. Your definitely not wind element, though," Greg grinned "that or, what we just witnessed was a regular gust of wind. Actually, a regular gust would probably have been stronger."
Max gave Greg a wry look as he gave him back his staff. As he tucked it into a silver tube that hung on his back attached to a leather strap, Max looked on jealously. Max missed the rune covered staff in his hands; it had somehow felt right, just like saying the incantation had.
"You should get home, it will be sunrise before you know it." Greg urged, already looking restless from being in one spot for so long. Max wondered if he was always on the move. surely Greg had somewhere to call home?
As Greg turned to leave, Max called out to him "Wait! Where are you going!!?"
Greg turned to face Max "The government won't handle the Andanobii until they find them as a true threat. By that time it will be to late to stop their domination. Someone has to take action. I'm going to stop them." His voice was full of conviction, his usually calm face lit with passion's fire.
Max looked at the tall figure before him, taking in his determined stance, seeing the passion that burned in his eyes. He looked into Greg's eyes and saw something deeper in them, a conviction to always do right, to use his power for good and for those who needed it. Max had to look up to someone with those ideals.
Max made a choice then, in that moment of that day, he had decided his fate "Not alone. Teach me magic, Greg. Take me with you," Max pleaded. He needed to harness his new found abilities. And he felt the same way as Greg did. The Andanobii had to be stopped.
Greg looked at Max and, ever so slowly, a smile crept across his face. "You know I liked you ever since I first saw you. It would be a pleasure to have someone to train. Meet me here tomorrow and I'll take you somewhere to begin your training."
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