‘I think you’re right, sadly.’ Bash seemed to be scared almost.
Gallag’s attack came quickly, making Griever become preoccupied and unable to think on his own Gear’s emotions. He blocked it with his shield and, this time, struck Gallag’s second blade upward. Just as he feared, the blade stopped halfway and pain spiked in Griever’s shoulder as metal met flesh.
Luckily, Griever was quick enough to pull away before the blade took his whole arm, or even meet bone, really. But that had confirmed it. He was almost certain that Gallag’s power was what he dreaded; Levitation. Every sword, shield, and anything else that lay around the area, Gallage could manipulate freely. Griever was, for lack of a better word, screwed.
‘How do you know that is the Lord of Air’s ability?’ Bash asked, seeming confused.
“It’s simple,” Griever said, watching Gallag huffing as he stomped closer. “He stopped my spear, first of all, which meant he either had insane strength and speed or some sort of magic that could catch things. Then, he managed to pull a sword in an impossible amount of time. And lastly, he pushed my sword against me and even stopped it when I tried to parry him. I know it’s levitation, I just don’t know the range.”
And, honestly, the limits being unknown scared made Griever more worried than the power itself. Not to mention he needed to find out if it worked on just metal, like all his weapons had, or if it could work on anything. Either way, Griever’s chances of winning were getting smaller.
‘Why isn’t he using it more freely?’ Bash asked.
“Probably trying to hide it instinctively,” Griever explained. Had he not accepted magic, he might have been in disbelief over this ability. And, while that could give Gallag an advantage in battle, it would not help him in life. People tended to remove things they did not understand, labeling it as witchcraft or dark magic.
‘You know I can do more than heal, right?’ Bash asked. ‘If you would ask, then I could tell-‘
“I know you can change your shape, Bash,” Griever snapped, “I’m just waiting.”
‘Why? Just turn me into a sword and fight. Even if he has the magic to levitate, he cannot effect me, as I am a magical being of untold power.’ Pride seemed to radiate from that annoying voice.
“For all your knowledge,” Griever whispered to the Gear, “You know nothing of battle.” His shoulder hurt less than it should and a quick look revealed the gash that had once been there was now a cut that no longer bled. Griever didn’t even feel the light-headedness of blood loss – and from the blood now coating his arm, he should have. “You are amazing, though.”
‘Another compliment. Impressive.’
“You were quiet for about ten minutes earlier. I’m just giving you your change.”
‘Humans are insufferable…’
“So are you,” Griever shot back just right before ducking under Gallag’s sword and pulling another sword from the ground. He tried to slice the large man’s leg with his salvaged sword, but wasn’t surprised when it slowed down. Had he not known and expected it, he would have dismissed it as insanity in the heat of battle. Instead, Griever let go of the blade and let his hand continue onward toward Gallag’s side.
‘I need a knife!’
The bracelet on his forearm was gone, instead taking the shape of a small dagger with strange markings along the blade in Grievers hand. It had come just moments before making contact with Gallag’s flesh. Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. Griever could see the blade, it’s strange markings worked up the blade and down the hilt to where a ruby was fitted into the pommel, sinking into the cloth of the tunic and further into skin and muscle.
He could also see a sword float from the ground and halt the knife’s passage, though not before digging in deep into Gallag’s side. Then, as soon as time had slowed, it sped up once more.
Gallag pulled away, cursing and losing all his rage, and Griever rolled away, gaining distance from the wounded man. He could have pressed onwards, but a cornered rat – or, in this case, bear – was more dangerous than what Griever could afford. Even with his healing, he was sure he wouldn’t survive a fatal blow.
“So,” Gallag said slowly between deep breaths, “You have found a Gear as well.” A piece of cloth floated from the ground – a torn shirt from the looks of it – and wrapped tightly around Gallag’s waist. It confirmed Griever’s fears of the levitation not being limited to metal, but still changed nothing. The range was short. Of that Griever was sure.
“Handy, I’ll admit.” Griever said, checking his arm again. It was healed completely, though he held it with his free hand. No need to give away Bash’s ability quite yet.
Gallag smiled. “Finally,” he sneered, “Someone I can fight seriously with!”
‘I think the word you need here is ‘Fuck,’ Bonded’
‘For once,’ Griever thought, ‘I can’t find anything wrong with your words.’