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Bound in Spirals Ch. 01

By: DistortedSense



Author's Note:

The first chapter of my story contains no sex, it focuses entirely on plot build up. If you're looking for a quickie, I suggest you look elsewhere.

This story contains minor gore and graphic descriptions of pain(Unrelated to sex). Just to warn those who are bothered by that sort of thing.

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above.

Major thanks to my editor, Ed. He helped to fix the numerous grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own.

—————

"SAM! GET THE HELL OUTTA BED!"

Sam woke instantly, flopping out of his covers, and onto the floor. His stepmother pounded on his door incessantly, yelling all the while.

"GET UP! YOU'VE GOT WORK!"

Sam groaned as he lay sprawled on the polished wood in a tangle of limbs and blankets. 'My damn alarm clock is gonna go off in like five minutes! Why does she insist on scaring the shit out of me to wake me up?!' He thought as he slowly stumbled to his feet.

"I'm up! I'm up! Jesus..." He said.

Sam grumbled a flurry of curses and complaints, as he yanked open his dresser. He pulled on a pair of navy colored boxer briefs, and heard the heavy footfalls fade down the hall. His step-mom had always been cruel to him, but at least before she was more subtle about it. Ever since his father had passed she'd 'come out of her shell' so to speak, and seemed to take pleasure in Sam's pain.

Sam pulled on a white T-shirt, and zipped up his blue jeans. As he stepped out of his room he bumped straight into his half sister, Janine, as she walked out of the bathroom, all dressed for school.

"Sorry." She muttered and looked down.

Sam attempted to lighten his mood a bit, "It's fine."

He curled his lip in a half smile as she looked at him. At least Janine was kind to him, if somewhat distant. He stepped to the side to let her pass, then walked into the bathroom she had just exited. After relieving himself, he wet his brown hair and combed the bedhead out of it. His icy blue eyes stared back daggers at him in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

A few minutes later, he found himself grabbing a dry bagel, and trying to make his way to the door without running into anyone else in the house. He tied his shoes quickly, and was halfway out the door when a nasally voice called his name.

"Sam, you're taking me and Becca to the mall after school." His other half sister Madeline said with an arrogant tone.

'I was so close to making it out...' He considered outright denying her, but decided against it. Sam had tried that before, and the snobby 17 year old had made his life hell for the next two weeks. He shivered slightly as the memory of her beating him with her softball bat in the middle of the night came back to him. He'd been bruised all over for weeks.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." he said, with as much defiance as he dared.

Sam stepped out into the overcast town in the middle of Oregon. He began his routine four mile walk to the library. Sam didn't mind the walk, in fact he found it was one of his favorite times of every day. It gave him time to think to himself without interruption, the only sounds were the regular scratches of his feet touching the ground, and the occasional passing car. Sam started to get frustrated with himself almost immediately, as he thought.

He could have left the abusive household a year before when he turned 18, but at the time he had felt some sort of obligation to his father's house. At this point he wanted to leave, but he no longer had the car he had a year ago, not since Madeline totaled it after taking it to one of her parties. So, he had nowhere to go, no car to travel in, and the only money he had was the meager 50 bucks he'd been stashing away since his step-mom started confiscating it to 'pay for the utilities'.

'Damn it all, I knew I should've left when I could, if I try and leave now I'll end up a hitchhiking hobo!' Sam let out an exasperated sigh, and pushed the pessimistic thoughts from his mind. 'Just focus on saving up for now, and when I have enough to get out of this godforsaken town I'll hightail it on out to Portland and find work. Yeah, that'll do.'

Sam soon arrived at the large library, where he worked as the librarians assistant. He stepped past the automatic glass doors, and into the expanse of the first floor. As he passed the front desk, a dignified voice spoke.

"Here early again, I see."

He turned to see Ms. Albright sat at the desk, peering up from behind her metal framed glasses. She had a book on home remedies in her right hand, and a steaming coffee in the other.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to get away from the house as quick as I could." Sam said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Oh, I have no issues with you arriving before nine, as long as you're willing to work." She replied with a confident grin. "The return books are stacked over there on the cart, if you would start replacing those that would be helpful."

She nodded her head to the grey cart piled high with a random assortment of books to the left, behind Sam. He smiled back, and turned to get started. He still felt awkward, and nervous talking to Ms. Albright, despite having worked with her for the past three years, full time for one of them. He'd had a huge crush on her since before he even started. She had a pretty face, a lean body, and looked very young despite being in her mid 30s. However, it wasn't her physical features that attracted him most, though it did help.

It was the sophisticated way that she spoke, the fact that she seemed to have at least a little knowledge on just about everything, and the all around confidence with which she handled herself. She acted in the way Sam expected a queen, or at least a noble lady would have in the past. Unfortunately, those were the same reasons Sam felt she was out of reach.

Sam daydreamed of Ms. Albright for quite a while as he went from aisle to aisle, returning the books to their rightful homes. He had finished putting away a third of the books on the cart as he heard the bells indicating it was nine o'clock, coming from the church a couple blocks away. Soon after, people started coming in to pick up new books, and return old ones.

Sam continued his task, listening absentmindedly to the occasional conversations that occurred. He eventually came to the end of the first floor aisles, and brought the remaining books, by hand, up the stairs to the second floor where most of the non-fiction books were organized.

Finally, after nearly three hours, Sam had finished his task. He returned to the first floor to ask if Ms. Albright needed him to do anything else. After she said she didn't, at the moment, he went back to the second floor. He sat down at his favorite desk in the library, and pulled out the book on emergency first-aid that he'd been reading during his free time the last few weeks.

An hour later, Sam put the book back where it belonged, having finished it, and decided to ask again if Ms. Albright needed help. As he walked down the stairs once again, he saw that she was in the middle of a conversation. He wandered through the sci-fi section as he waited patiently. After around five minutes the man she was speaking to left, and he approached her.

"Do you need me to do anything now, ma'am?" Sam asked, just as she sat back down behind her desk.

"Yes actually, I do." She said, and held out the book in her hand. "Return this to the archive room, please, and dust the place off while you are at it."

Sam nodded, and took the ancient looking book from her hand. He strode toward the glorified closet in the back of the library. He stepped through the door with 'Archive' engraved on it, and into the musty room.

It was pitch black inside, and dust particles permeated the air. Sam had only been inside the room a few times before, to return a book similarly, and to dust. The place seemed like a sepulcher for the archaic leather books that lined the walls. Sam squinted his eyes, and coughed as dust was pulled outward with the door. As he closed the door behind him, he reached out blindly for the cord attached to the light.

He found it, and pulled down. The light clicked on, revealing the wooden shelves, caked with dust. He could hardly read the titles on the books, so he decided to dust first to find the right place for the book in his hand. Hanging from a nail above was a feather duster. Sam grabbed it after setting down the book, and pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth as he dusted.

After dusting off the books he was able to find the place where the book belonged. He was about to leave when a black book with gold lettering caught his eye. The title was in another language, it was a whirling, twisted looking alphabet that he didn't recognize. He pulled it from the shelf, and opened it. The first page was a table. A bunch of words were circled, then connected to each other in seemingly random lines, most likely showing some sort of correlation that he couldn't see.

Sam cleared a spot on the floor and sat down, suddenly riveted by this bizarre book. He began skimming through the pages delicately, stopping whenever he saw another picture. He was about to go ask Ms. Albright if she knew anything about the book when he came across an intriguing pattern pressed into one of the pages near the middle. It was a three dimensional drawing. Four lines came to the center from each corner of the page, creating a hallway effect.

Inside the lines were swirling patterns that seemed almost impossibly intricate to Sam. He became mesmerized by the picture, soon his eyes began to become unfocused, and he felt like he was staring into space. The patterns seemed to twist, and Sam's mind felt foggy. Suddenly, his vision went black. Sam blinked a few times, but it remained dark. He still felt the book in his hands, so he didn't think he'd passed out.

'What the hell is going on?' Sam asked himself. He felt like he should be freaking out, but his mind was too muddled to form anything beyond confusion. Then, he started seeing similar patterns to what was on the page, only they were a glowing gold among a sea of black. His mind felt like it drifted into the pattern, and flowed with it for a while. Finally, all at once, he seemed to enter a mind once again, only it wasn't his own.

He became a sort of spectator in the mind of another man, and just as suddenly, lost his self awareness. He was one with that man...

———

Samson picked up the long sword at his feet. His aggressor stood mere feet from him, waiting for him to recover from the previous attack. He was perplexed by the behavior, 'If it were me, I would have taken my head off already!' Lifting the hefty blade, he got into a ready stance.

Every time the inimically silent man had disarmed him, he had allowed Samson to retrieve his sword. He felt himself becoming frustrated at the manners with which the knight fought. 'He must think me a fool, a struggling mouse to be toyed with by the cat. No, no, I can't let my emotions get the best of me, he is of noble birth, and simply wants to allow me an honorable death. Yes, that's probably it.'

The opposing figure nodded in his gleaming white helm, light reflected off the top and blinded Samson for a moment. He stepped back, preparing for the powerful blow that was sure to come. The grey whirling pattern that stood out on the man's iridescent armor had a rather hypnotic effect as he moved to swing down at him. He barely had time to parry as he pulled himself out of the stupor. Samson stole to the right, readying himself once again for a block.

Samson deflected the up-swinging blade, sending the man off balance as the heavy broadsword dragged him backward. Sidestepping, Samson lunged for the gap in the armor at the left shoulder. His blade slipped in and sliced shallow. The other man's sword came down, and tore into his own shoulder. The wound burned in the background of his mind, the excitement of battle dampening it considerably. Unlike the cut Samson had scored, this one was not superficial, it cut inches into his muscle and hindered the movement of his left arm. He tried to access his power, but he was too exhausted.

Samson hadn't expected such a quick retaliation. He pulled back and whacked the blade away, trying to regain some maneuverability. His armor felt as though it was pulling him toward the earth, the fight had gone on far too long. He was dismayed to find his opponent looked unfazed by fatigue. He hauled up his sword, and tightened his muscles ready to spring at a moments notice. The two began to circle each other, looking for any opportunity.

'There!' Samson swung as the man put too much weight on his forefoot. His blade arced forth with as much strength as he had. Samson realized too late that it was a feint. He, and his blade, clattered to the soft earth before he saw what happened. He was again plagued by malevolent thoughts as the man stepped back, to allow him to his feet. His faced twisted into a scowl.

"Kill me already, You've had countless opportunities to end my life! Quit playing around like this is some friendly spar!" He growled at the man.

"Oh, is it not?" The pompous voice reverberated out from the white helm.

Samson's blood boiled within him. He gripped his longsword and stood, his stance unguarded, his blade at his right side. He lunged furiously at the man, his first blow rending into the man's left thigh, the metal shredded inward. An astonished gasp escaped from the man along with a hiss of pain. Samson's second strike was deflected with ease as the man recovered. A flurry of blows were exchanged, neither giving up any ground.

The sharp clangs of sword on sword rang out across the battlefield where few remained alive. Samson pulled every last ounce of energy out for this rally of back and forth. Finally an opening appeared and he took it. With a yell he struck, his blade tasting delicious blood as he severed the man's left arm from the elbow down. Fingers twitched in the gauntleted forearm lying on the ground. Samson was overcome with pride, his anger abated for the moment.

Because of this, he was too slow in retreat. The man howled in pain as he lunged for Samson's heart. Samson stumbled back, only just diverting the attack. He felt fear, and pain like he'd never felt before as the hostile blade bit into his chest. Time seemed to slow, and he felt every inch as the sword slipped slowly between his ribs, and pierced his right lung. The pain felt like he was being trampled under hoof, and being scorched with a branding iron at the same time.

He tripped backward and heard a wet, slick noise as the blade was pulled from his chest. Blood and spittle fell in globs from his mouth as he coughed while hunched forward. Samson looked up to see his adversary had dropped his blade and was clutching the stump of his remaining arm. Sobs echoed from the man as he stumbled back, and fell. Samson too, crumpled to the ground, his blood pooling inside his plate as he lay there.

The pain slowly faded away along with his mind. Black spots flickered in his vision as he pondered what would await in the next life. With an exhale that seemed to exude finality, Samson closed his eyes and breathed no more...

———

Sam woke from the vision, in similar fashion to how he'd entered it. He felt his mind separate from the man sharing his name, and pulled back into the swirling golden abyss. Then his eyes returned to the blindness of before, and he felt his own body once again, still sitting cross legged with the book in his lap. Slowly his vision returned. Sam gasped, and tried to throw the book away, but found his body felt weak, like it had been drained of blood.

An excruciating pain hit him square in the chest, and he tried to scream. All that came out was a gurgled yelp as he coughed up bile. Sam felt dread overwhelm his mind, he began to panic. He felt as though his soul was being ripped from his body, if that was even possible. The pain in his chest continued to escalate to the point he felt like his ribs were being torn out. He made one last attempt at a scream for help as he flopped backward, his limbs writhing about on the ground. Just before he passed out, he saw the door open, and Ms. Albright looked down at him. On her face was terror, and maybe some realization as she looked at the book still clenched in his hand...

As Sam's world went black, for the second time in mere minutes, he saw those damned writhing swirls of scintillating gold once again. He was no longer enthralled by those patterns, they seemed dangerous. He tried to get away from them but quickly realized there was no running from the omnipresent patterns. Sam felt surprisingly lucid, considering he'd just passed out from pain moments before. 'It feels as though my mind is moving somehow... that doesn't really make any sense though. Does it?' Sam thought.

Sam observed the patterns around him as they seemed to twist into infinity, and he began to wonder what all of this was. 'Am I just going bonkers, or is this some sort of hypnotize thing, or magic maybe?' As he was thinking this, he noticed a point where the patterns were more concentrated, and somehow knew that was the way his mind was traveling.

One of the swirls at the center of the point he was moving to, began to expand and started to engulf him. Then, he felt his mind begin to unravel, and his thoughts became disjointed. 'Wow that's... I'm not... feeling is... portals maybe... coming to... mindful for...'

His mind felt like an ocean in a storm, thoughts crashing into one another like waves buffeted by the wind. All at once his mind seemed to begin pouring into his body, like water through a funnel...

Sam gasped a deep breath as he woke. He felt a sharp pressure on his chest, like something sharp was poking him, and he was laying in a warm liquid, on his back. Blinking furiously, his eyes adjusted to the bright light pounding down on him. The light was streaming through the slats in his helmet. 'Wait, helmet?' he thought as his mind tried to make sense of where he was. Sam attempted to move, but he still felt somewhat disconnected from his body.

'Okay, calm down Samson you are fine, just relax, and let yourself wake up a bit.' He thought to himself in his fathers soothing, baritone voice.

Finally, after several minutes, he felt like his body was as awake as his mind, or close to it. Lifting his arms, he felt metal weighing them down. He tried to shake it off, but it was apparently attached somehow. He brought his arms toward his face as he opened his eyes, and saw a shadowy grey gauntleted hand. Sam felt around his helmet, trying to pry it off so he could see more easily. Eventually he seemed to pop some sort of fastener, and he threw the helmet to his side. With his head freed he peered down at his body, he was in a full suit of armor the same color as the gauntlets.

He noticed what the poking feeling was from, in the breastplate was a large hole with metal bent inward. There were flecks of blood on the metal around the opening. 'Is that my blood?' Sam thought, he poked into the hole, and his plated glove came back dry. 'No, I guess it isn't.'

He tried to lift himself upward, but the metal that was sticking in began to hurt his chest. His fingers scoured the plate, trying to figure out how to remove it. Eventually, he gave up, and just yanked on it. He felt it give slightly as he pulled, so he strained harder, until finally it popped off. The piece flung upward, and clanged to the ground next to him.

He pulled himself upward now, and looked at his surroundings. Leaning against his right leg, was a familiar dark steel sword, engraved with silver runes. 'This, this is the sword from my vision. Did I take over that man's body?'


Bound in Spirals Ch. 02



Author's Note: 

This chapter of my story contains no sex, it focuses entirely on plot. I considered trying to fit some in somehow, but decided against it. If you're looking for a quickie, I suggest you look elsewhere. 

This story contains minor gore and graphic descriptions of pain (Unrelated to sex). Just to warn those who are bothered by that sort of thing. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

————— 

Sam woke with a start. He shot up, the coarse blanket falling to his side. The dream he'd had brought up old resentments, and he felt ready to break something. His ill feelings were dampened as he looked around, blinking. 'Where...? Oh, yeah. In the other world thing.' He thought, shaking away his drowsiness. 

The light of dawn was streaming in through the opening in the tent. Sam rubbed his eyes as he dropped his legs off the side of the bed. Horns began to blare as he stood up. Covering his ears, Sam wobbled to the cushioned log and sat. Finally, the noise ceased, and he put his hands down. Outside, Sam could hear the marching of countless feet in sync. He listened intently as he straightened his clothing. Sam realized he'd slept in his boots and shook his head. 

He got up once again, and clomped toward the entrance to the tent. It would take some time to get used to the heavy boots. Sam stole a peek out the slit. He saw rows upon rows of white canvas tents just like his. 'Jesus, how big is this camp?' He thought in amazement. He waited there, watching and listening for many minutes. Eventually, he decided to try to find that Grettia woman, figuring she was his best bet for some answers. As soon as he stepped out, he was halted by a voice to his left. 

"Sir, you've got orders to report to the command hub as soon as possible." The youthful voice declared. 

Sam turned to see a boy who looked barely 13, saluting him with a sharp movement. He was clothed in a green uniform, and carrying a leather satchel that appeared full. Sam was unsure of how to respond, instead he just stared at the boy with wide eyes. 

"Uh, Sir?" The boy cocked an eyebrow. 

"Oh, uh, sorry." Sam said. "Can you point me to where it's at?" 

The boy's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he seemed to realize something. 

"Right. It's that way, sir." He said pointing toward Sam's right. "It's a giant red tent, you can't miss it." 

"Thanks, I'll go right away." Sam replied and turned to go. 

Before he got more than a step away the boy spoke again. 

"Sir, is it true? Is it true that the Captain perished last eve?" Sam turned back. 

"What Captain?" 

"Captain Samson Erke." The boy looked up at him, and Sam saw sadness. 

"Yeah... I'm sorry." Sam replied quietly and strode away. 

Sam walked in the direction he was pointed for over half an hour before he finally saw the immense crimson tent. It's gilded trim gleamed softly in the warm light of the morning. He traced the outside of the circular structure until he found the entrance. To either side of the pulled fabric, two men dressed in iridescent red armor stood at guard. 

Sam shuffled awkwardly in their direction, unsure of how to approach. As he came near, both men looked toward him, their armor clinking as they turned. They straightened their backs and held their lances upright. Sam continued forward and both men turned their heads forward again. He took that as a sign that he was allowed to pass, and stepped past and into the grand canopy. 

Sam blinked rapidly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. He heard the hushed whispers of many voices as he walked hesitantly to the center of the tent. Finally, he could make out an extravagant looking table that spanned the entire room. On the opposite side from him sat 7 people. As he began to make out their faces, he realized all were women, and they were looking at him appraisingly. Sam was suddenly feeling timid. 

"Hmm, he does bear a striking resemblance." The woman directly to the center said, the rest made sounds of disgruntled agreement. 

Sam's eyes scanned the assembly quickly, trying to make out their expressions. Most seemed as though they were appalled by something, though perhaps he was just misinterpreting their countenance. He realized he recognized one of the women, the one on the far left. It was Grettia, the supposed healer. She looked at him with barely retained eagerness, Sam wasn't sure how to feel about that. Grettia stood and circled to the front of the table. 

"Sisters, come, you must see what I've witnessed in this boy." She declared with a flourish, her elaborate violet robes flowing with her arms. 

The rest of the group began to rise, muttering to each other as they did. They joined Sam and Grettia before the table, and leered at him haughtily. Grettia motioned at him excitedly and all 6 converged on him. Sam felt fear boil up, these women seemed dangerous to him somehow. He shied away, as they neared him. He stumbled back and fell on his rear, they reached spindly hands toward him from inside their lavish robes. 

As they gripped him, Sam couldn't help but let out a gasp. Just as each of them touched, he could see something inside. In their bodies, he could feel power, not unlike the patterns he'd been visualizing constantly. They were all unique, some were rigid and cold, others were inviting and warm. Though, something about them felt off, but he couldn't quite pick it out. 

Some of the women gasped as they touched him, other's eyes widened, but all displayed some form of shock. They all backed away in unison, a few had a fearful look in their eye, some amazed, one was angry even. Sam wondered if what they'd seen in him was anything like what he could see in them. 

He scrambled back and pulled himself to his feet. Wary of the frightening gaggle of women. Sam straightened his pants and dusted off his behind, as the group started muttering to themselves, more furiously than before. Grettia looked on with what seemed to be 

self-satisfaction. Sam was more bewildered than ever at what was taking place, 3 of the women kept glaring at him as they conferred. 

Sam attempted to take a logical assessment of his situation, but it was too unclear. Grettia seemed delighted, while the others were combinations of fear, anger, and confusion. All he could tell was that his position was precarious. Sam was surprised to find he was relatively calm. Normally, this would've had him too afraid to form coherent thought, he was most definitely fearful, but it seemed it was a controlled fear. 

Sam shuffled further away and straightened his back. As he moved, he noticed all the women glanced at him nervously. In the back of his mind he could still visualize the energy he'd seen flowing in each of them, and had a revelation. 'Grettia called these women 'sisters', so I think I can safely assume they have similar magical ability. So that energy I saw in them must be related to their magic... then, could the spirals I keep visualizing be the power Grettia mentioned?' 

Sam's eyes flicked from woman to woman as he frantically analyzed this discovery. They continued to bicker in hushed tones, until Grettia finally interrupted. 

"I propose we send him to Stralden." She said abruptly. 

Her 'sisters' looked at her incredulously, obviously understanding something Sam didn't. He remembered Grettia mentioning that name to him the previous day, but he didn't remember the context. 

"Are you crazy?! We cannot send him there, he is not from here! It would be far too dangerous to the queen, what if he's an assassin?! What do..." One woman with blonde hair and an upturned nose spoke, nearly shouting. 

The woman seemed to realize Sam was still standing right there and cut herself off. The 6 women formed a sort of half circle, opposing Grettia. They glanced to Sam in unison, wearing scowls, then back to Grettia. Their unified movements struck Sam as creepy somehow, he too glanced between them and Grettia, waiting for her response. 

"You dunces. Do you not see it yet?" Grettia asked the group, while motioning at Sam. 

The women stared at him, brows furrowed, then looked back to Grettia. Grettia just sighed and put her hand to her face. 

"Sometimes I wonder how you fools ever made it past the vetting system..." Grettia muttered, just loud enough to hear. 

The same woman who'd spoken before made a slur of sounds that was a combination of a scoff, a grunt, and a stutter of indignation. 

"H-HOW DARE-" She began, but Grettia cut her off. 

"He's an 'other'." She said. 

Sam tried to figure out what she meant by that, but his limited knowledge of this world prevented it. Whatever it meant, it must have been something of some significance based on the reactions it got. All the women turned to Sam, their jaws hanging, and they seemed to realize the truth behind what Grettia said. 

"H-He needs to be executed!" One said immediately. 

Two others nodded at this immediately and Sam's 'controlled fear' unraveled. He instinctively raised his arms slightly at his sides, ready to defend himself. As he started to back toward the exit the woman with the blonde hair lunged at him with a shriek. Grettia shouted, and Sam heard the other women shout as well, but he was already turned and heading for the opening. 

As he sprinted his boot caught on a rock jutting upward from the dirt, the exit mere feet away. He scrambled forward, trying to gain his footing again. Then, he felt a cold grip clamp down on his flailing right wrist. He felt the power of the one behind it, and panic crept through his limbs like poison. The energy was rigid and dark, unlike the whimsical spirals of his own. Sam turned, and looked into the murderous eyes of the woman gripping him. 

She must have seen the terror in his eyes, as the thin lipped grin of a predator consumed her face. Sam expected her other hand to enclose his neck and choke the life from him, but she just held his wrist, her arm consumed by tenebrous, black structures. An awkward couple seconds passed as he froze in place, staring into her crazed, honey colored eyes. Then, just as suddenly as she lunged, she tore her hand from him. Her grin remained as she stepped back, watching his face, almost as if waiting for something. 

Sam felt relief as the chilling power disconnected from him, but it was short lived. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye, that just about had him screaming. Where she'd grabbed him, his skin was blackening and flaking away. Sam gaped in horror as his wrist quickly disintegrated like burning paper, the bone inside appearing momentarily before charring away and snapping off. 

He felt no pain as his unmoving hand flopped to the dirt. He peered hesitantly back to his arm and saw exactly what he hoped not to. The invisible flame continued up his arm, and with it, came unrelenting fear that threatened to rend his mind in two. In a few seconds his arm was devoured up to the elbow, and his coat with it. Sam almost felt resigned to his fate, to follow the Samson who'd gone before him, and was relieved that no pain came. However, amidst his thoughts of death, a gleaming spark of hope smiled upon him. 

He sought the endless patterns that had remained at the back of his mind ever since he'd opened that accursed book. As soon as he embraced them, his dread escaped him. Not in the 'controlled fear' way of before, but completely diminished. Sam felt himself smile as he gripped his decaying arm. He looked up and closed his eyes, and the scintillant whirls enveloped his body, forming a glorious web across his skin. Sam breathed deeply, calming his body, and he turned gaze back to his arm. 

He nearly laughed at the absurdity of what was occurring, of what he was doing. The scorched ash of what was once his arm was rising back up, and returning to healthy flesh before his eyes. Crimson blood began to pour from the now opened wound, but quickly streamed back into him as the particles took shape. In less than 5 seconds his arm was restored to the wrist, and his fallen hand levitated up as spirals of magic whirled around it. It floated slowly until about halfway up, then snapped to his wrist quickly, causing Sam's arm to move slightly from the impact. 

He felt his fingers once again, and wiggled them with glee. 'Oh what a wonderful gift this is,' Sam thought triumphantly. As he looked up to the band of sisters, he stifled a snicker at the looks of disbelief. Even Grettia, who was now standing directly behind his aggressor, wore a look of amazement. Finally, Sam pulled his mind from the power, and the web sank into his skin. 

Grettia was the first to escape the stupor, and her plump face instantly turned to anger. She clamped her hand around the woman's throat like a vice, and it collapsed between deceptively strong fingers. The woman's face rapidly began turning purple as she scratched at the hand squeezing the life from her. Grettia jerked her hand to the left, and a loud crack rang in the tent. She released the woman, and her body flopped to the ground, her neck wobbling limply where it had snapped. 

"A pity really, she had quite powerful magic. If only her mind were there to support it." Grettia said indifferently, despite her previous ferocity. 

When she spoke, it seemed the rest of the women came from their dazes. None made a sound, only looked on in silent horror. Sam had to admit the sight was rather unsettling, but he was still bathed in euphoria from his miraculous survival, and wasn't too dismayed, considering the woman had tried to kill him. 

"Jyanda! No..." A woman with black hair ran to the fallen sister. "G-Grettia how dare you! How could you kill one of your sisters?! And over a weak male no less!" 

Grettia turned slowly, her brilliant violet robe flowing with her. 

"If you still truly believe this young man is weak, after such a display, then you are more an imbecile than I thought." She spoke with utter disdain. 

At this point Sam's ecstasy had leveled out, and with it, his normal emotions returned. An overwhelming sense of disgust rose in him, looking at the crumpled body on the floor. It's neck hanging limply, bent unnaturally in the black haired woman's arms. Her mouth dribbled foamy, saliva mixed blood, and her eyes stared lifelessly at the canopy of the tent. Sam convulsed slightly at the sight. 

"Our dearly departed Jyanda there, tried to kill the person who could be the most powerful mage in this room, he could be a vital accessory to victory in this war!" Grettia said. "Her death was justified regardless, such a senseless murderer has no place in this council." 

Sam was astonished at her words, 'Me? More powerful than everyone here?!' He, despite what he'd just done, found it hard to believe. 'She just killed that woman without breaking a sweat! I can't do that!' 

He stood there, unable to move due to the thoughts warring for attention in his head. He felt a cold sweat slowly coating him, his bare right arm chilling slightly in the cool morning. Grettia turned to him and began to speak. 

"I'm going to schedule you some lessons, so you can learn the basics of your abilities today. For now, you should have breakfast." She smiled warmly at him. 

For some reason, that smile unnerved Sam, but he was relieved to be able to get out of there. Grettia strode past the dazed group of women, and grabbed a small piece of parchment from the other side of the long desk. She pulled a quill pen and a ink bottle, and quickly began to scribble. As he waited, Sam glanced back to the woman holding Jyanda, and he noticed a striking resemblance despite their hair. Wet streaks lined her pale face, and she hugged the body tightly. 

He considered trying to apologize for what had occurred, but quickly abandoned the thought as Grettia came back toward him. She ushered him toward the exit, and pulled it open. Sam squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand. The sun blinded him for a few seconds, and he walked forward tentatively, hoping not to trip. 

"Be a dear and escort Samson here to the eatery, and deliver these instructions to Delinna." Grettia said to one of the red guards. 

"Yes Ma'am." Spoke a deep reverberating voice. 

Sam's eyes adjusted in time to see the guards salute Grettia as she reentered the tent. 

"Now, let us discuss our options..." Grettia said to the remaining sisters as Sam turned to the guard who was already walking away, his armor clinking softly. 

Sam jogged to catch up with the towering red knight, and fell into stride next to him. 

"Er, I'm not supposed to ask, but... what in god's name happened in there?!" The man asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes of walking. 

Sam considered how to respond, whether he should tell this man what occurred. Eventually, he decided to tell him but leave out the parts that seemed unwise to tell. 

"Well, one of the women attacked me randomly. She grabbed my wrist, and it started burning with invisible fire." He said, showing his bare arm. "Then, I sorta healed myself." 

Sam paused, unsure of how to say the next part. 

"And Grettia just came up behind the woman and killed her, snapped her damn neck with one hand." 

As he spoke, the man stopped abruptly. Sam turned to him, his eyebrow raised. He couldn't tell what the man was thinking inside his helm, and assumed he was as shocked by the killing as he'd been. 

"Y-You healed yourself...? After an attack from one of them...?" The man asked, the utter astonishment evident in his voice. 

Sam cocked his head to the side, and rubbed the back of it. 

"Uh, yeah I guess I did..." Sam said, taken aback at the man's response. "Supposedly, my power is pretty strong..." 

"Pretty strong?! You gotta be A class AT LEAST!" Sam found himself comforted somehow by the man's informality. 

"A class? What's that mean?" Sam asked. 

The man didn't move, just looked at Sam. 

"Who are you, exactly?" He questioned. 

Sam tried to come up with a response that skirted the truth, but couldn't do it. He figured since magic was real, and well known in this world, that his story wouldn't be too far fetched. He chose to confide in this man, whether it was foolish or not, he would soon find out. 

"I'm... I'm not from this world." He uttered, so that no prying ears would hear. "I don't really know how, but a book transported me here, and I got no damn idea what to do." 

The scarlet clad knight continued his unmoving stare for a few moments, then hurriedly gripped Sam's arm. Sam felt panic rise in his gut, but as the man spoke again, it was assuaged. 

"Y-You should keep that to yourself from now on." He whispered, close to Sam. "Unfortunately, the coven of old wenches back there probably already knows, but..." 

Sam could see the gleaming of eyes behind the helm, they were narrowed. 

"...Well let's just say, it's best if most don't know your secret." He finished. 

Sam gulped and nodded quickly, as the man turned to start walking again. 

"What is your name? Forgive me for not asking before." The man said, his head turning to Sam as he paced. 

"Oh, I'm Samson, but I usually go by Sam." He said with a slight smile. 

The man turned his head away for a moment. "I was afraid of that." He muttered sadly. 

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, frowning. 

"Samson, was a friend of mine... and many others for that matter." He looked down as he spoke. "Normally, the only way to transport between worlds is when both persons look at a powerful mage's inscription, called the Portal Page, at the same time." 

Sam looked at the melancholic man, astounded at the warrior's knowledge, and his ability to infer so much from so little. 

"There's a rumored second method, but none have dared to test it, due to the fact that death is involved." He continued, "Apparently it's true, unless Samson stumbled upon a page in the middle of a battlefield." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 02



Sam sensed a much greater sadness from the man than he was outwardly expressing, and began feeling mournful as well. They walked without speaking for the rest of the course. Sam wanted to ask how the man knew so much and what else he knew about it, but deemed it inappropriate. 

As they came closer to their destination Sam saw a few people scrambling about, carrying pails of water, soiled cloth, food trays, and some running empty handed. A man in brown slave's garb nearly bumped straight into Sam as they rounded a corner. The foamy water in his wooden bucket spilling over the top as he stopped abruptly. Sam was about to apologize, but the man quickly bowed and hurried past before had the chance. The guard continued on, unfazed by the disruption, toward a clearing ahead. 

Right as they entered the open space, Sam's escort stopped. In the area, wooden tables were strewn about in unorganized groups, few people eating together. Most of those who were sat there were injured, the servants being the only ones not so. Across the clearing was an open tent, where servants were preparing food in massive pots and handing trays of it to any who came. The guard finally broke the silence, and Sam looked to him. 

"I'm sure you can figure it out from here." He said, a more unfamiliar tone returning. "When you've finished, go to the training area. They'll be expecting you." 

As he finished, he turned and started walking back. Sam was preparing to say something when the man looked back to him. 

"I'd like to talk with you more, but I must return to my post. I will find you later." And with that, he was gone. 

Sam stood there for staring after the man for a few moments, insecure now that he didn't have someone to show him about. Finally, he spun and walked to the cook's tent, his mind filling with thoughts of delicious food. When he approached one of the cooks saw him and held out a tray of food. He nodded to the man as he took it, and thanked him. He found a seat on a bench away from the majority of the small clusters of people and sat down. 

'I must look pretty out of place with my right sleeve missing,' he thought, looking at his arm amusedly. He quickly removed his jacket and set it aside, not wishing to attract attention. Inspecting his tray of food, he realized he didn't immediately recognize anything there. Thin slices of green fruit with red flesh, similar in shape to an apple, were spread atop of a cream coated piece of meat. On the side was a cup of water, and a small bowl of steaming green roots. 

Sam grabbed the piece of meat with the tips of his fingers and hesitantly brought it to his mouth. A medley of bizarre flavors stimulated his taste buds. The meat itself was tough and bland, but the cream and fruit were quite pungent. The sourness of the fruit left him puckering his lips, though the cream's sweetness balanced it out fairly. Sam decided he was rather indifferent to the foreign taste. 

He hastily finished the meat and relatively tasteless roots, and downed the cup of water, eager to leave. As he brought over his tray he asked the cook where he could find the training grounds, realizing the guard hadn't told him. The man frowned at him oddly and pointed him in the right direction. With that, Sam set off carrying his sundered coat over his arm. 

Sam spent nearly an hour wandering among the labyrinth of identical white tents before finally stopping a servant, and asking where to go from there. She gave him the same confused look the cook had and pointed straight ahead of him. He turned and thanked her as he jogged onward. 

Sam flitted his eyes left and right between the tents as he ran, finding a clearing not dissimilar in size to the eating area, but it's equipments far different. He scanned the area, seeing a dozen straw dummies in varying states of decline, and several barrels filled with wooden swords next to them. His eyes were drawn to the center of the clearing, where a woman was sat, stropping a large knife. 

Shuffling forward hesitantly, he tried to think of what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as her head snapped in his direction. She glowered at him. He quickly lost whatever he'd meant to say, and took a step back warily. 

"You are the greenie..." She said, sounding disappointed. "When the message said you had potential I was expecting a bit more than a scrawny youth." 

Sam looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. As soon as he'd done so, he felt a searing pain tear into his left arm. His eyes centered on a handle protruding from his forearm, the tip of the blade piercing through to the opposite side. The pain sent intense shocks to his brain and he felt tears beginning to blur his vision. 

His jacket fell from his quaking right arm as he reached for the handle. His hand hovered above it, reluctant to touch it for fear of aggravating the pain. Sam's eyes glanced to the woman still sat in the center of the clearing, her expression blank, and arms crossed as she watched him. Realization befell him as he saw that she no longer held a knife. 

His gaze returned to the source of his pain, resolute. He gripped the handle tightly and tore the blade from his flesh. Blood and gore were ripped free as the hooked back edge of the knife dug into the muscle in his arm. He lost control of his left hand as his tendons were snapped by the barbs. As his mind fogged over, he heard his own screaming, but it sounded distant. Tears pour incessantly from his clenched eyes. 

Sam fell to his knees and dropped the knife. It clattered softly against the packed dirt as he grabbed his bleeding arm. Due to his muddled mind, his power did not come to him immediately. The pain brought him to the edge of consciousness before he remembered, and he cursed himself for forgetting so soon. 

His mind desperately sought out the coruscating spirals of his magic. As soon as he found them, he grasped them franticly, urgent to be relieved of the pain. Instantly, his mind and body were enveloped in the power, the pain remained, but his mind was cleared. His eyes opened tentatively to see his arm, the same that had happened barely 2 hours earlier was occurring again. 

Every bare inch of skin was whirling with iridescent tattoos of power. He felt control return to his hand as the tendons mended, and watched as the small chunks of flesh flew up from the knife into his still bleeding wound. Finally, the pouring blood was staunched, and the spilt was flowing back into the already sealing veins. The pain gradually slowed to a stinging, then, ceased as his skin clasped together like a closing zipper. 

Like the previous time, he felt great joy as he embraced his magic, though unlike the last, he laughed aloud. Tears continued to streak down his face as he laughed toward the heavens. 'What the hell is wrong with me...?' he thought as his body thrummed with the writhing patterns of power. His laughter ended as he lowered his gaze, returning to the woman in the clearing. 

In his mind Sam still felt jubilation, but a desire to kill wormed it's way into his heart. 'I... I'll be even happier if I kill her...' he realized. Sam smiled wildly as he stared into the woman's judging eyes. He took a step forward, wringing his hands, imagining her neck between them. 'I-I can do it, I should just kill her, it would feel so good...' he chuckled with delight at the images running through his head. 

He took another slow step forward, preparing to dash toward the defenseless woman. 'Perhaps I could break her arms and legs first, then slowly choke her...' His smile grew wider as each new idea crossed his mind. 'Oh how wonderful the pain would be! I could cum just thinking about it!' Sam shut his eyes to revel in beauty of the image and felt a shiver run down his spine. 

As he opened his eyes he stared at the woman, into her dark eyes. In that moment Sam felt almost as though he could see into her soul, and his thoughts froze. 'A test... A test...' His smile faded. He stood there, paralyzed by something... The woman's fierce gaze seemed to be judging him. 'Stop... Stop...' the thought seemed distant, like someone yelling from afar. 'Let go... Let go...? Of what?' 

His head leaned to the side, like a confused puppy. 'Let go... Let go of...' Sam tried to brush away the voice in his head, but it was persistent, not letting him forget. He felt as though he was trying to bring up a picture in his memory, like trying to remember something on the tip of his tongue. 'Let go of the...' 

Finally, the image was brought to the forefront of his thoughts. It was an opalescent pattern. His magic. Sam looked down at the whirls of power moving on his bare arms. 'Let go of... the power. Let go of the power.' As soon as the thought completed in his head he felt his mind retreat from the magical, infinity of swirls and he fell to his knees. The magic faded back into his skin, and horror struck him. 

"I-I-I... I was gonna kill her..." Sam muttered. 

Tears reformed in his eyes, wetting his still damp face. He brought his head to his hands and started to weep. 

"I-I wanted... to mu-murder her..." he said, disgusted at the thoughts he'd held moments before. "I... w-would've enjoyed it too..." 

He sniffled and sobbed softly. Sam lifted his head as he felt a hand touch his shoulder gently. The woman who'd thrown the knife was now knelt next to him, her face showing compassion and warmth, rather than the fiery judgement of before. 

"I see... this is what she meant." She said softly. "I apologize for my previous harshness, I needed to test you." 

Sam looked into her eyes and saw sincerity. This made his despair even worse as he realized he'd wanted to kill this caring person. He tried to speak, but a lump blocked his throat. Salty tears touched his tongue as he opened his mouth. 

"Do not blame yourself son, it was not your own thoughts that plagued you, but those of the magic." She said assuredly. "I honestly thought I was going to have to incapacitate you, the fact that you managed to control yourself on the first try is a testament to your good nature." 

Sam took this in and felt his anguish recede, though not entirely. He again attempted to speak, but his mouth moved wordlessly. 'I-I don't want to have this magic... This is no blessing...' The woman seemed to understand what he'd meant to say and responded sternly. 

"It will not help you to wish away your ability, you need simply learn to control it, and yourself." 

"I-I don't wanna use it anymore. Please... I-I don't wanna hurt somebody." Sam pleaded. 

At that moment her brows narrowed and she pulled her arm back. Stars flashed in Sam's vision as he reeled back from the strong slap. He looked toward her with shock clearly shown in his expression. He looked into her angered gaze fearfully as she stood up. 

"If you wish not to hurt anyone, then you need to become stronger. Trying to avoid your power will only make it worse when you're forced to use it. If that were to happen, you would be certain to hurt someone. Learn to control it, and you will not need to worry about such a thing. 

"For someone with as much ability as you appear to have, it was already amazing for you to break from your power. If you do not want to feel what you just felt again, then you must master it." 

Sam sat there, rubbing his stinging cheek, and listening intently to her speech. He was certainly confused, but grasped that his reaction to the magic was expected, and that if he tried then he could avoid those murderous desires. Reassured, he opened his mouth to start asking his endless questions, but she cut him off. 

"I can easily see that you know very little of your own ability, I will give you a rudimentary explanation of magic. So hold your tongue for the moment, most of your questions may be answered by the end of it." She said, her voice lowering. 

"Okay." Sam acquiesced. 

"First of all, we should introduce ourselves." She said as she walked back toward the center of the clearing. 

"I am known by the name Delinna Hannt, I am the head instructor in this war camp." Delinna's auburn hair flopped in it's tight pony tail, as she turned sharply. "I have strong grasps on both magical and physical combat, as well as magical and physical healing." As she finished, she knelt on her knees with her back straight. 

Sam sat there gaping for a few moments before wiping his remaining tears away quickly, and standing up. He shuffled over until he was a few yards away, then spoke. 

"Uh, I'm Sam, Sam Wallace." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, my full name is Samson, but most call me Sam." 

As he sat down, he was unnerved to find Delinna was studying his face intensely, with her arms crossed under her breasts. He crossed his legs and looked away from her fierce inspection, still rubbing the back of his head. 

"It appears you have difficulty with confidence, Samson." She said matter-of-factly. "But that is irrelevant at the moment. I will begin by teaching you the two basic types of magic that humans can control." 

Delinna closed her eyes and breathed deeply, preparing to start. 

"First, is bind magic, which you and I have. Bind magic is most often used for healing, but has a wide variety uses. However, everything it is capable of is somehow related to connection, thus named as such. Healing is used most often due to the relatively easy, and useful nature, and because it uses a moderately low amount of power. Though normally, healing would take far longer than what you have demonstrated. 

"Other common uses include: shackling slaves or prisoners, connecting armor, and reparation of broken items." She said, then paused. 

Delinna's hands shone with a dull light as she brought forth her power. Thin lines created patterns along her skin. Sam noticed that they weren't nearly as intricate or bright as his own. She touched her each of her hands to the opposite wrist, one over the other, and closed her eyes. The patterns writhed and shimmered for a moment, then sank back into her skin. As she pulled her hands apart a band of magic connected to each wrist, and held taught about half a foot apart. It pulsed with energy as she yanked her arms outward, demonstrating the strength. 

Sam stared in amazement at the up close look at the magic. The day before, when he'd met the slave, he'd seen the same magic, but from further away. Now, he could make out each and every swirling string of magic as they writhed about between Delinna's wrists. As the lines met each wrist, they split and frayed out, appearing to go straight into the skin. Sam's jaw dropped as he leaned forward. 

"This is a basic point to point bind, used for shackles mostly. I am sure you have seen slaves with these on their ankles since you have been here. They are designed to allow slaves to walk normally, but prevent anything beyond that. These types of binds are useful for tying down animals temporarily as well." She put her hands back together as she finished. 

As Delinna pulled her hands back apart, the bind was gone. 

"Binds can only be removed by the original binder, or by those who use the second magic type, sever magic. As the name implies, most everything sever magic is capable of is related to splitting things. Sever magic is much more difficult to describe without someone to demonstrate it, unfortunately. Usually I teach in groups and have an assistant, due to the impromptu nature of this lesson, and the need for most mages in the war, I was not able to find a sever mage." 

'So, that sister lady who attacked me earlier must've been one of these sever mages...' Sam thought. As Delinna paused to take a breath, Sam spoke. 

"So sever magic is like destruction, and bind magic is kinda like creation or somethin', right?" Sam asked, cocking his head to the side. 

"No, that is a common misconception. Sever magic does not destroy, it breaks, cuts, the matter is still there, and is not irreparable. Bind magic does not create either, it connects already existing things. Even when healing, it does not create new skin or muscle, it just puts it back together. Do you understand?" 

"Yeah, I think so, for the most part." Sam said. "But earlier today, one of those council ladies attacked me, and her magic, like, burned my arm. Wouldn't that count as destroying it?" 

Delinna's eyes widened for a moment, then she sighed and ran her hand back through her wavy hair. 

"No, that is an advanced form of Sever magic, this is what I meant by 'Sever magic is more difficult to describe without someone to demonstrate'." She said, dropping her hand, limply, to her lap. "That is... A variation of sorts, it is designed to appear like it is burning, but it really is not. You did not feel any pain during it, right?" 

Sam shook his head. 

"That is because it was only falling apart, not being burnt. It is very difficult to do, supposedly, and takes much more power than a straightforward severing, and is harder to heal. The main reason someone would waste that much magic though, would be to try to strike fear into a stronger foe, a necessary move on her part. Does that make sense?" 

"Sorta... So it was like an illusion, kinda?" He replied. 

"Yes, in a way, a trick to make it look worse than it really was." Delinna said. "I assume she was immediately killed afterward... Which one was it?" 

Sam sat silently for a few moments, looking down at a dried plant between his legs, picking off the dead leaves. 

"I don't remember what her name was, I think it sounded like Hiyanna or something. She had an upturned nose and blonde hair." Sam said, still fiddling with the dead plant. 

"Jyanda." Delinna said, sounding unsurprised. "She was always a bold woman. Though, perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it rash." 

Delinna looked upward pensively. Sam looked up from the plant and watched her expression for a moment, until she looked back down, and he turned away. 

"Did you know her well?" He asked. 

"No, not on a personal level. I taught her for a few years when she was still in her Basics, much before she had become one of the Sisters." 

"You taught her? But she looked older than you do?" Sam said, glancing upward once again. 

"Ha, I'm flattered, but no, I am older. I forget that you know next to nothing about magic. I suppose that is a good thing to start on next." She said, taking another deep breath. "All magic users age far slower than an ungifted person, and their amount of power determines how much longer. The aging process is normal until a person reaches their prime, around 18 to 25 for women, and 23 to 29 for men, then it can slow down to any number of varying rates. The average mage lives around twice as long, provided they die a natural death." 

As Delinna paused again to gather her thoughts, Sam found himself confused about something. 

"So, wait. How does a person's amount of power determine that? Wouldn't everyone just live forever or something?" 

Delinna looked at him blankly for a moment, as if completely befuddled by his question. Then, her eyes widened. 

"Oh! No no, but I get why you might think that." She said, chuckling softly. "Magic is not infinite, though it may seem so at first. In your mind you can see the lines right? The patterns?" 

"Yeah, yeah I can." Sam replied, his mind unconsciously seeking the patterns. 

"As you are young, there seems to be an endless number of those patterns, but over time your body uses them to keep itself at peak condition. That, along with regular magic use drains your pool, so to speak." She said. 

She stopped, letting him take in the information. Sam's brow furrowed as he thought about it. 'I'm gonna live like, more than a hundred years...' He started to get lost in the prospects of that, but Delinna interrupted his reverie. 





Bound in Spirals Ch. 02



"Next I should teach you the basic ways to control your magic." She said. "The first thing you should know, is that when you are in the act of using magic, when you are focusing it, it will not muddle your mind. The easiest way to keep it from effecting your mind like earlier, is to cut the connection as soon as you have finished the task. However, that loses effectiveness the longer the task takes. 

"So, as long as you are doing simple things, it should not bother you, but obviously that is not always possible. Unfortunately, the only way to reduce the side effects, is simply training your mind against it. The reason this poses a problem is because it takes a very long time before becoming immune." She sighed and rubbed her temples, as if remembering painful memories. "In most cases this takes years of practice." 

"How do..." Sam started, but was cut off by a cacophony of a blaring horns. 

Sam's head swiveled in confusion. The extended trumpeting cut off sharply, and was followed by a series of stunted notes. Sam looked back to Delinna for some sort of response, but the one he got was not what he expected. Her eyes were wide and staring, her head pointed to the left. Her mouth was moving, as if muttering to herself. Inside, Sam was starting to panic. Suddenly, Delinna's gaze turned back to Sam. 

"Get up, in that tent over there is a sword, take it and run to the council tent." She said stolidly. 

Sam sat frozen for a moment. He gulped as he watched Delinna sprint off toward where she'd been looking seconds before. 

"What the hell?! Wait, what's going on?!" He yelled to her, but no response came. "Goddammit! Who the hell does that?! Just leaving me here clueless!" 

'Screw it.' Sam stood hurriedly, and ran to the tent she'd pointed out. He fumbled with the opening, the canvas slipping from his shaking grasp. The tent was furnished with racks of weaponry. Axes, swords, and bows lined the edges. 'Which sword?!' Sam thought exasperatedly. 

His question was quickly answered. He saw the sheathed sword lying flat on a low, stone table in the center of the tent. Grabbing the sword, Sam ran back out the entrance, nearly tripping over his own feet. Once back in the clearing, Sam's panic rose as he realized he had no idea where the council tent was from there. Cursing under his breath, Sam made a hasty decision. 

Sam ran across the clearing, heading in the direction opposite of Delinna. He saw his jacket still lying where he'd dropped it, and next to it was the knife he'd torn from his arm. He decided to grab both of them, not knowing what kind of situation he was in. 

"Into the maze, I guess..." Sam muttered, holding the sword in one hand, and the knife and jacket in the other. 

Sam ran fast and straight through the tents, unfortunately not finding anyone. His stamina depleted quickly, and he slowed to a jog. Everywhere were white tents, no distinguishing landmarks to indicate his location at all. 'What a stupid design. How can anyone find anything in this damned place?' he grumbled. 

After running what seemed to be miles, he finally found the edge of the encampment. He scanned the open landscape, and saw nothing but flat land. Dead plants specked the plains in small patches, and Sam decided then, that running out there thoughtlessly would leave him as dead as the grass. His mind cleared of it's earlier panic, he thought of his options. 

He flopped down onto the ground, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 'What should I do? Delinna seemed worried about something, something I'd be willing to bet is dangerous. Probably that other army.' He rested his chin on his hand as he pondered. 'But, no one seemed worried earlier... What could have changed?' His thoughts were interrupted by a distant voice. Sam perked up, and twisted his head, searching for the source. 

About a quarter mile to his right, Sam saw a man in gleaming red armor waving his hands above his head franticly. 

"Samson! Samson, this way!" He called. 

Sam stood abruptly and started jogging in that direction. As he approached, the man took off his helm. Underneath was a head of wavy blonde hair, and a handsome face coated with stubble. The eyes were the same intense green ones he'd glimpsed earlier that day. His expression was grim, as he walked toward Sam. He stuck his helm in the crook of his right arm, and opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off quickly. 

"What's going on? Is it the other army? Where's everyone else?" Sam rattled off. 

"Hold on Samson, give me a second." The man said with a sigh. "We need to make haste, the council has already taken off with the last of the carriages and the winnem." 

"Wait, what's a winnem?" Sam interrupted again. 

"Huh? Oh, they're the big animals that people ride." He answered. "Anyways, yes, the enemy has overcome our forces. Supposedly they had around 10,000 new soldiers, and they circled around us. We don't really know the specifics at the moment, but we need to retreat to warn the capital." 

"O-Okay. Uh, what do we do?" Sam asked, his fear returning. 

"Well, we will have to travel on foot for now. The town of Eltinn is about a weeks time in that direction." The man said, pointing straight into the distance. "If we run, we should catch up to the convoy sometime tonight, dawn at the latest." 

Sam ran a hand back through his hair and groaned inwardly. 

"Can you run very long in that armor?" 

"Not likely, thank you for reminding me." He said and started removing the heavy plate. "We'll have plenty of time for more questions on the way, we shouldn't waste it here." 

Underneath the armor was a maroon shirt in the same style as that which Sam wore, and the same pants and boots. 'I think I kinda like the uniformity of the clothes, at least...' Sam thought amusedly. As the man picked up his lance, Sam realized he hadn't gotten the man's name earlier. 

"Hey, uh, I never got your name earlier." Sam said, involuntarily rubbing the back of his head. 

"Oh, my apologies, I'm Theodore. Theodore Granic." He replied, grinning and extending a hand toward Sam. He shook it firmly. 

"Alrighty, let's go then." 

The two ran for an hour straight with little communication due to Sam needing to focus all his energy on running to keep up with Theodore. Finally, Sam was forced to take a break to catch his breath. He stumbled and fell flat on his stomach, dropping everything he was holding in the process. Groaning, Sam rolled over onto his back and laid there wheezing for several minutes, unable to speak. Theodore remained standing, show very little fatigue. 

As Sam felt some energy return, he sat up and stretched out, not wanting his muscles to tighten. 'It looks like it's about 3." Sam estimated, looking at the position of the sun. 'That is, if time is the same here...' Sam looked to Theodore, expecting some sort of mocking from the man, but none came. 

"I'm a bit surprised you kept my pace for that long, we might end up catching them right around sundown." Theodore said. 

"Yeah, how the hell aren't you at least breathing heavily right now?!" Sam laughed. 

"Hah, I used to be able to run from dawn till dusk, but I've lost quite a bit of my previous conditioning." He replied with a big smile. 

Sam just shook his head as Theodore offered him a hand. He was pulled to his feet, and he quickly started brushing the dirt from his clothing. He grabbed his belongings from the ground, and situated himself once again. He decided to wrap the knife in his jacket for now, since he had no sheath. Sam examined the sword, looking for a strap somewhere. 

"Hey, uh... is there a strap or something on this thing?" Sam asked, frowning. 

"Well you can just use a bind, you don't really need straps." Theodore said. 

"Oh, right. I'm not really sure I can do that yet." He said, still perturbed by his reaction to magic earlier. 

He almost resigned to just carrying it when he remembered what Delinna had said. 'I can't just stay afraid of it. Besides, it's a small thing, I can cut off the magic quickly.' Despite his thoughts, he was still shaken up. 

"Uh, where's the best place to put it do you think?" Sam asked, looking to Theodore. 

"Hmm. Probably on your back, like this." He said, drawing a line across Sam's back with his finger. 

"Alright, I'll try it. If I, er... lose control, don't be afraid to hurt me, I can heal well enough." Sam replied, looking into Theodore's eyes with a new confidence. 

'I really have no idea where to start with this, I haven't practiced at all yet.' He thought as he brought the sword to his back. 'Guess I'll just try to imagine the magic there or something.' Sam breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, steeling his nerves. He reached for his power and immediately saw the pulsating lines. As he did, he felt a push against his mind, like a forgotten memory. It was as though he already knew what to do. 

'Just feel the sheath, focus on it, and direct the power there.' Sam immediately felt it connect, like holding two magnets near, it snapped to his back. He quickly pulled his mind out from his magic, and sighed with relief as he felt normal once again. Letting go of the sword, he felt exhilaration run through him as it remained on his back. 

"YES! It worked! It worked!" He yelled, jumping with joy. "WOOHOO!!" 

He stopped suddenly, seeing the amused grin on Theodore's face. Instant embarrassment flooded Sam. 'That was an odd outburst, I'm not normally one to do that.' He felt his cheeks burning as he rubbed the back of his head. Theodore walked over to him and whacked him on the shoulder. 

"That was a sight to behold." He said with a chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen someone with such bright forms before." 

"Forms? What do you mean by that?" Sam asked in return, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's what we call it when the patterns show up on your skin, when you use your magic." Theodore answered. 

Sam nodded and turned his attention to his sword. He jumped to test the sheathes stability on his back and found it did not shake at all, and still allowed him to move his shoulders without encumbrance. 

"So, would this like drain my energy over time or anything?" Sam said. 

"Delinna did not have much time with you did she." He replied, somewhat solemnly. "Once a bind is placed, it will remain without need for energy. So, unless someone severs it, or the binder deactivates it, it will stay intact." 

"I see." Sam said softly. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, how do you know so much? Are you a, uh... mage as well?" 

Theodore laughed and shook his head. 

"No no, I am but a normal man. My family owns a library in Dentlin. Growing up I read just about every book in there, and a few more than once." He answered. "That is where the majority of my knowledge comes from." 

"Oh, I work in a library back home! I always read during my breaks, anything that seems interesting." Sam said, elated at finding something in common. 

"What a funny coincidence. Is that where you found the portal page?" Theodore inquired. 

"Yeah it is actually. It was in a dusty old storage room, in some strange book." 

Theodore rubbed his stubble thoughtfully and Sam waited for some sort of response, but none came. Suddenly, he turned to Sam. 

"Do you know how to use that thing?" He asked. 

"The sword? No, not really. Only what I've read about, and I don't remember much." 

Sam pulled out the sword slowly with his right hand, relishing the sound of it. 'I have never felt more badass.' He thought. His first glimpse of the sword mesmerized him. It's weight was well balanced in his hands and felt easy to handle. The blade was of a dark metal, a matte gray, with intricate black patterns lining the flat center. Immediately, he thought it strange. It was long, but far thinner, and narrower than any longsword he'd seen. He whacked the flat of it against his hand, testing the sturdiness. 

His confusion increased as it remained rigid. Sam felt the soft black leather hand and a half grip under his fingers, and brushed his thumb across the thin cross guard. He turned back to Theodore. 

"How is this sword even functional? This thing should be really brittle, but it doesn't seem to be?" 

"Ah, that is made of velta. It's the about strongest metal in the realm, for how light it is." Theodore answered. "The swords made from it are generally on the smaller side, due to the cost. Honestly, I am a bit surprised the council gave one to you. No offense, but it would be more useful in a trained soldier's hand." 

"Maybe you should take it then, you're definitely better than I am." Sam said, holding the sword out to the man. 

"No no, I can't fight with a sword for shite. Besides, you will learn to use it soon enough, I'm sure." 

At that, Sam put the sword gently back into the sheath, careful not to miss the mouth. 

"We should, uh, probably get moving again." Sam said sheepishly. "Though, maybe we could start a little slower." 

Theodore chuckled, "Alright, the sooner we catch up, the sooner we can eat and drink." 

"So, how did the group get so far ahead of us? I ran straight this direction as soon as the horn blew." Sam asked, after a half hour of jogging in silence. 

Theodore sighed solemnly, "We got the warning nearly an hour before the alert, just after I got back to the council, one of mages managed to get out of the enemy trap and made it back. The council decided that in order to protect the 'important persons', that they would leave behind most of the wounded and serving folk as a distraction. Coincidentally, they fall under the 'important persons' list." He said it with clear cynicism, and looked down mournfully. 

Sam felt a sudden disdain for them at that, and clenched his fists angrily. 

Theodore continued, "I was assigned to alert a few others then retrieve you and Delinna and bring you as well, but neither of you were at the training facility by the time I managed to get there. I figured she would have taken you to the council, then when you weren't there I ran to the outskirts and came across you fairly quickly after. I assume she went to fight." 

"Yeah, I didn't know where the council tent was, so I just ran straight in the opposite direction from her." Sam replied, downcast. 

"I wouldn't worry too much about her Samson, she's more resilient than most." Theodore said and patted his shoulder. 

Sam nodded, and increased his pace, not feeling much for talking anymore. 

A few hours later, just before the sun set, the terrain began to change beneath their feet. The dry plants became greener, the dirt softer, and in the distance, Sam could see a few small trees. They stopped to rest in a patch of tall grass. 

"What... What happens if we don't catch them, or we pass by without realizing it?" Sam asked, breathing raggedly. 

"Well, there is forested land about another near here, I can hunt if it comes to that. Ideally we will not have to worry about it though." 

"I hope we just find them soon, I'm really fuckin' thirsty." Sam said with an enervated smile. 

The night was among the darkest Sam had ever seen. The small shaving of moon provided little light, and he could barely see a foot in front of him. He'd already tripped and fallen 4 times, unable to see the small rocks and well ingrained plants. On top of that, he was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. Ready to accept his fate, he dropped his jacket, and the knife with it. 

He fell to his knees and Theodore stopped immediately. He caught Sam by the chest as he went face first toward the ground. 

"Hang in there Sam, just a little longer. I can see light in the distance, it's probably their fires." He said, hefting Sam to his feet. 

"I... I... Can't..." Sam mumbled between wheezes, wobbling precariously. 

With that, his head went limp in Theodore's arms, and he lost consciousness. 

"... Drink... Drink..." A distant voice said. 

Suddenly, a harsh stinging spread across his cheek as Sam's senses returned. He groaned and tried to move, but found his muscles too stiff. Something wet pressed against his lips, and a hand pulled his mouth open. Cool water poured down his dry throat and he felt instant relief. Sam's eyes fluttered as he opened them to see a stern looking Frenna holding a leather canteen to his lips. He blinked, trying to remember what had happened. Frenna's cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze. 

"I-I am sorry for slapping you, but you were having difficulty waking." She said softly. 

Sam would have responded, had he not been guzzling down water like it was the last he'd ever drink. Instead, he just nodded to her. 

"Once you have finished you can sleep again, we just had to get some fluids in you." 

Sam's eyelids were already drooping tiredly. He tried to nod his affirmation again, but he fell asleep before he could. 

'Wake up!' 

Sam's eyelids flicked open and he looked around, his head swiveling franticly. He sat up quickly and checked his surroundings. It was early morning. He was lying on grass, next to an elaborately gilded carriage. Draped over his chest, was his one armed jacket. 'What happened? I passed out before we made it to the convoy... I'm certain of that.' 

'Who was it that woke me up? I don't see anyone...' His questions were forgotten as he heard the clanging of metal and bellowing men. Sam jumped to his feet and was surprised to find his body lacking soreness. He scoured the ground around him for his new sword, and realized it was still bound to his back. Next to him, the carriage shot off. He was startled by the sudden movement and any remaining weariness was chased out of him. 

As it pulled away, it's wooden wheels rumbling, a battle was revealed. Sam was frozen in his place, watching with horror as men in dark green armor swept the area atop their mounts. Unarmed servants were beheaded, and there were few trying to stop them. 7 of the red guard stood in opposition of the attackers, all in scattered pieces of armor, as if they'd been forced to abandon the rest. 

Sam watched as all the remaining carriages pulled away from the camp, and fled. Sam was forced to take action as one of the riders set their sight on him. He slid his sword from it's sheath and held it out before him in shaking hands. 'Cut the legs.' Sam barely had time to move until the rider was upon him, sweeping a longsword at his neck. Instinctually, he ducked the sword and felt his arms move, his blade biting deep into the winnem's left foreleg. It squawked as it crashed into the ground behind him. 

"Arghh..." The rider was thrown from his saddle roughly and he rolled, his armor clattering. 

Sam ran at him, his sword held in his right hand. As he swung to cleave through the man, his attack was deflected, and his balance lost. The man was already on his feet and swinging toward Sam by the time he'd regained his footing. Sam dodged as the sword came down, whistling past his left ear. The man's blade lodged itself into the dirt with the heavy swing, and Sam took advantage. He stabbed straight forward with both hands, intending to pierce the man's heart, but the man moved. 

He bellowed as Sam's sword cut into his left side, breaking through one of his ribs. The man pulled away and Sam moved in to stab again, but his strike never landed. Half of his forearms fell to the ground, and his sword fell with them. He cried out in pain as the blood began spraying from him. He tried to reach his magic, but the screaming pain was distracting. 'Please connect! Please, PLEASE!' Sam yelled into his mind. 

Finally, he could see the beautiful spirals, and his pain became distant. His mind calmed, and seemed to slow as he realized his healing would be too late. The enemy's sword was coming down at his head too quickly. He watched his blood pouring back inside, and his arms snap up from the ground, but it wasn't fast enough. The sound of metal cracking through skull sounded out. He was stunned as the death blow never landed. A spear sent chunks of bone and gore flying as it pierced Sam's would be killer. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 02



The man's body was flung back as the heavy spear tore through his head, his sword clattering to the ground atop Sam's own. His arms finished sealing and he released his power as he turned to the direction the spear flew from. A blood flecked Theodore nodded to him from 20 yards away, then quickly turned to a new target, holding his lance under his left armpit. 

"Holy shit..." Sam muttered as he reclaimed his sword. 

He turned and scanned the area. 4 of the red guards remained, including Theodore, and about 10 of the green clad attackers, most unmounted. He didn't see any servants left standing. Sam closed his eyes slowly, and hardened his resolve. 'Help whoever needs it most.' He thought, and snapped his eyes open once again, feeling a new determination. 

————— 

And thus ends Chapter 2. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. 

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 03



Author's Note: 

This chapter of my story also contains no sex, and I don't anticipate there being any for a few more chapters. If you're looking for a quickie, I suggest you look elsewhere. 

This story contains minor gore and graphic descriptions of pain(Unrelated to sex). Just to warn those who are bothered by that sort of thing. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

————— 

Sam gripped his sword tightly, steeling himself. 'I should go after him.' Sam thought, watching as one of the green clad warriors ran toward an ally who was already facing off against 2 others. As Sam started to sprint, the man slowed as he approached the small group. The woman in red began to back away as the third came close, deflecting a sword away with her own. As Sam came close to his target he brought his sword up. 

He swung. The man turned at the last second to see Sam's blade go straight for his neck. He felt the armor resist for a moment, then give way and the man's head fell backward silently. Blood spurted from the still standing body. The corpse fell backward and landed atop it's head, blood beginning to puddle. Sam wiped the gore from his face with a grimace and refocused his attention on the woman struggling to fend off her attackers. 

Her black hair clung to her sweaty face. She gritted her teeth as she took a spear to the left arm. Sam reeled back to sever the closer man's neck, as he'd done just before, but felt something urge him to duck. It was a good thing he did. He looked up to see a lance arcing right where his head had been, and saw the mounted soldier who held it ride past a moment later. He jumped back up and found his target turning with a battle axe held high. 

Sam barely reached up to deflect the axe in time, and pulled back hurriedly. Another powerful blow was swinging for his shoulder, and he blocked this one with more ease. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rider turning to come back. 'Fuck...' He dodged the man's next heavy strike and countered, stabbing into his right thigh. The man yelped and lost balance. Sam took advantage of that moment to pierce the man's chest. 

Rapidly pulling and stabbing again. It took 2 more hard strikes before the man fell back, his eyes open in shock. Sam was breathing heavily as he turned his body to the advancing winnem, he felt as though his body was in autopilot. The lance lowered toward his chest, it's silver edge glinting in the dawning sun. Sam felt his body move, and he rolled to the left, the lance missing by inches. His arm swung as he recovered and hit the scaly hind leg of the winnem, slicing off the bottom half. 

'I'm sorry...' Sam thought with a frown. The creature screeched it's pain, and fell. The now clearly female rider leapt nimbly from the winnem crashing into the grass. He glanced toward his ally, and saw that the fight was evening out. Looking back to the fallen rider, he readied himself. She dropped the too long lance, and drew a short sword from her hip. Suddenly, she darted forward, crossing the distance between them in a second. Sam shuffled backward in panic, and felt a sharp pain in his leg. 

He looked downward with a gasp and saw the downed axe wielder. He held a small knife, now coated in Sam's blood. Sam felt his leg give way, and stifled his scream. His achilles tendon had been cut. Pain struck in his chest and he turned to see the woman had stabbed into his sternum. He howled through clenched teeth. Fear filled him as he sought his power. He swatted away her sword as she pulled it out. He found those patterns immediately this time and embraced it gratefully. 

Writhing tendrils of opalescent magic rose to his skin, and he felt his pain flee. The woman jumped back, wide eyes gleaming through her helm, and tripped. She fell onto her bottom, and tried to scuttle further away. Sam's blood streaked off her blade and returned to his chest, and sealed a second faster than his leg. He cut off his connection, and quickly turned to the man behind him. He drove his sword down hard, and skewered the man's head through the right eye. 

The blade slid out with a soft squelch, and he looked back to the fumbling woman. He gasped for air, feeling an unnerving level of fatigue. He stepped forward, clutching his sword tensely. She was just finding her feet as his sword came down on her. The screech of tearing metal made Sam grit his teeth as he cleaved through the woman's plated left arm. A tormenting scream ripped into his ears as her arm clattered to the ground. She raised a shaking right arm, still clenching the sword. He struck the sword hard, sending it flying from her hand and rattling across the short grass. He hauled his arm back, and ran his blade through her heart. He held it there as her last labored breaths puffed out. He put his boot against her chest plate as she coughed, blood spurting through the slats of her helmet, and extricated his sword. As the corpse fell back limply, Sam spun and scanned the battlefield. 

The woman he'd been helping was finished off, both her arms and her right leg were lost. The man she'd been fighting was also lying dead, and another was standing over her, his blade held downward. Sam glanced back to where he'd last seen Theodore and saw him struggling to stand as blood gushed from a deep gash in his stomach. He leaned against his lance, and held his left hand to his wound. 

Sam's immediate instinct was to try to heal him, but decided against it. Only one other ally remained aside from Theodore, and 3 of the green armored enemies still stood, uninjured from what he could tell. He decided to go for the nearest one, who still stood above the fallen woman. 'I should have died twice today...' Sam thought, knowing then that if he made it through the day, he'd learn to fight properly so he wouldn't have to rely on magic or friends to save him. 

Just as he took his first step toward the next opponent, his head snapped toward him and he felt a shiver run down his spine. The man turned fully to him and began walking, his unblemished armor clinking with each step. Sam stopped and closed his eyes for a moment, settling his on edge nerves somewhat. When he opened them again, the man who'd been walking confidently a second before was frozen still. Sam raised an eyebrow when he saw the man quivering. 

"A-ARGWOLF!" The man yelled, pointing behind Sam. 

'Argwolf?' Sam frowned. He turned his head. The instant he saw what the man was afraid of, he understood. An enormous dark grey beast was bounding toward them from the trees. It was still several hundred yards away, but Sam could tell that it was close to the size of a bus. He heard the sounds of metal clanging together as the remaining soldiers began to flee. Sam searched for Theodore, and found him hobbling in the opposite direction, using his lance as a crutch. He quickly ran to help him, skirting the strewn corpses. 

He saw the body of one of the council women he'd seen in the tent the day before, lying face up with her throat slit. Sam wiped the blood from his sword sloppily and sheathed it as he approached. Grabbing his arm, Sam grasped his magic, and attempted to heal Theodore. As he did, Theodore turned to face him with gritted teeth. He smiled wistfully. 'It's not working... It's not working! C'mon, c'mon... Heal goddammit!' Sam thought, grimacing with his growing desperation. 'Please...' 

Then, as he was ready to give up, he heard a voice in his head. 'Focus. Direct your magic into him. All you're doing now is holding your power and touching him. You need to force your intentions into the magic.' Sam didn't take the time to question it and did as he was told. He closed his eyes, and could feel his whole body thrumming with power. He imagined the magic extending from his hand, and into Theodore's body. 

He opened his eyes, and saw tendrils of his magic connecting to Theodore. Like wispy roots, the thin lines pulsed as power moved through them, running along the erratic patterns. Strings of crimson started to stream into Theodore from various places on the battlefield, and his wound was healed in a matter of seconds. 'Phew...' He released his magic as soon as he saw the unblemished abdomen seal up. 

The tendrils of magic snapped free of Theodore's arm and sucked into his fingertips. His forms settled back into his skin, like a net into water. Theodore stared at Sam with eyes wide in shock, and suddenly wrapped him in a strong hug. 

"Th-Thank you Samson, I thought I was going to die there..." He said, tears in his eyes. "I owe you my life..." 

Sam felt himself begin to feel choked up by the sheer amount of emotion that was unmistakeable in his voice. 

"Don't thank me just yet, I owe you mine just as much. Regardless, it seems like we might have even bigger problems incoming." Sam said, clapping Theodore on the back and pulling away. 

"Yeah, we need to run. Now!" Theodore exclaimed, already beginning to sprint. "If that thing catches us, not even your healing will save us!" 

Sam glanced over his shoulder only for a second as he started to follow Theodore, not far behind. The great monster had cut the distance to 75 yards, and with each stride covered another 25. The men who'd been trying to kill them moments before were now running from a common threat, their original goal already forgotten. Then, Sam saw something ahead that made him stumble to a stop. 

Lying face down was a familiar looking body. Her torso severed from the waist up, intestines spilling from the bottom. Her lower half was sat on it's knees a few feet away, the blood stagnant. Sam had to know for sure. He walked to the upper half and turned her over. Frenna's eyes stared past him lifelessly. Her face was stark white beneath the dry dusting of dirt. She was cold. 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, and slapped himself hard. 'No time to feel bad...' He thought and opened his eyes, his expression now grim. Quickly, he brushed her eyes shut, and ran off with renewed haste. He could feel the vibrations of the ground now with each of the argwolf's heavy steps. Taking a moment to look back, Sam's fear rose drastically. 

The wolf was on the battlefield now. In one bite it swallowed a fallen winnem, it's long, thin snout snapping loudly. It's large, pitch black eyes seemed to Sam as though they contained a terrifying level of intelligence for an animal. As he looked, the beast caught his eyes for a moment, and he felt dread chill his spine. He felt momentary relief as the inimical gaze left him, and the creature turned it's maned face. Sam turned his attention back to his front as he sprinted for his life. 

Ahead, the diffuse groupings of trees steadily transformed into evergreen forest. 'That thing will probably be eating the bodies back there, should be enough time to get into that forest.' Sam thought. Theodore glanced back and slowed slightly, seeing how far behind Sam had fallen. As Sam fell in line next to him, Theodore spoke. 

"The argwolf won't be occupied for long, it'll ignore those who were armored. Then, it'll come for us. Our best bet is to split up once we reach the forest." He said between breaths. 

"Split up?!" Sam asked, not liking the idea one bit. 

"Yes, it will follow one of the 6 of our scents, you get the idea. If we stick together both of us lose." Theodore explained. "You know how to whistle right?" 

"Yeah, I do." Sam replied, still not confident in separating. 

"Okay, we'll use that to find each other when we're safe." He said, just as they reached the tree line. 

Sam looked back one last time, and was disheartened to see the argwolf swallow a final corpse and turn it's piercing gaze to the fleeing humans. 

"Try to find water and lose your scent, once it catches someone it might try to go after a second if it can." Theodore finished, and diverted to the right. 

Sam cursed under his breath and started going left, jumping over a moss coated log in his path. If Sam had the time, he probably would have admired the beauty of the colorful forest. The low hanging branches slapped his face with their thick green needles as he tried not to trip in his boots. The trees gradually grew larger the deeper he went, it seemed most of the dark reddish brown trunks were close to 5 feet in diameter. He heard the skittering of small animals as he ran recklessly through the brush. 

He stumbled over a slow moving creature in his way, it's rocklike appearance deceived him as it walked into his foot. The thing hardly moved as his heavy boot impacted it's hard carapace. Sam jumped over it and continued his course, barely glancing at the small bewildered animal. 

After about 5 minutes of sprinting, Sam heard a piercing scream in the distance off to his right. For a moment he felt afraid for the fate of his new friend, but calmed himself with the realization that the voice was too high pitched. 'I wonder who the wolf got...' He pondered as he evened his pace. His eyes widened as he ran straight out into a clearing in the trees, only stopping a foot in front of the trickling stream that crossed the glade. 

Sam caught a glimpse of a large deer type animal, before it fled with a flash of blue-grey. 'Jump!' A panicked thought entered his head and he heard a hushed thump. He heeded the strange voice, leaping forward as swiftly as his legs allowed. It seemed it was just in time. As he cleared the small creek, he heard a loud snap vibrate through the air behind him. Turning his head, Sam saw a fearsome grey beast bearing down on him. It was the argwolf. 

The bottomless black eyes penetrated his own, and he felt his bladder dangerously close to releasing involuntarily. An enormous paw swatted at him, and he only dodged it by a hairs breadth. Sam felt another gust of air as the 4 foot jaw cracked down inches from his head, the noise was deafening. Unfortunately, Sam's lucky evasions ended there. The heavy right paw slammed down on his left arm, breaking it in countless places and shredding it with long claws. 

Sam let out a howl of pain as his arm flopped to his side, only connected by a few strands of delicate skin. He franticly seized his magic, grateful that it had gotten easier to reach as of very recently. His momentum was redirected as the left paw swung in from his right, impacting his side brutally. The wind was knocked from his lungs as he crashed back first into one of the sturdy trees lining the area. By this point, more bones were broken in his body than not, but he felt his power rapidly beginning to reverse that. 

'Let me take over!' Said the voice in his head that had warned him previously. 

'Who...?' Sam thought back. 

'No time! Relax your mind!' The voice responded, 'Hurry!' 

Sam's pants were wetted by warm liquid as the argwolf stepped over the water in his direction, knowing it had already won. 

'Stop trying to move!' The voice screamed at Sam mentally. Finally, Sam released his control, and his body fell limp. 

Suddenly, his limbs started to move on their own, like he'd been put in autopilot. The argwolf suddenly stopped, a few feet from his body. In it's large eyes, Sam saw his body reflected, glowing fiercely with effulgent forms writhing along his skin. The panic escaped him and pain was relieved rapidly. In the black eyes he could see his bones snapping back into place, like powerful magnets aligning. 

His flesh wrapped around and skin sealed, faster than any of his previous reparations. The argwolf was suddenly looking hesitant as Sam's body rose, his affliction fleeing in only a second. Sam's body suddenly lunged forth, moving with an agility he wasn't aware he had. His hand touched down on the argwolf's left paw, and he felt his magic shift as a bind was set. The beast snarled and bit at Sam, but he was already out of it's range. It wound back and leapt forward, but it was halted by it's bound paw and pivoted awkwardly. 

The wolf pulled back as far as it was allowed, cautiously watching Sam, it's hackles raised. It let out a deep bass growl that shook the air as Sam's body began to walk straight toward it. 'What are you doing?! Just kill it or something!' Sam thought toward the foreign mind. 

'No.' It replied firmly. 

'Are you trying to get me killed?!' Sam struggled to retake his body, but couldn't do it. 

'No, I'm not. If you die, I die too, so just trust me for now. You'll thank me later.' 

Sam wasn't convinced he would, but it didn't seem he had much of a choice at this point. As his body came close to the wolf, it snapped forward. It missed by several feet, and Sam's hand contacted the wolf's right forepaw. The creature turned and crunched down again, but Sam's body was already safely out of reach. 

"You should submit now argwolf. Now that both paws are bound, it's either this or a slow painful death." Sam heard his own voice, but not his words. 

'What the hell are you doing? Why are you trying to talk to it?' Sam thought. 

'You already know, I know you saw it. The intelligence of this animal.' The voice thought back. 'In it's eyes, you noticed it.' 

Sam focused his attention to the terrifyingly huge argwolf, and understood what this person meant. The wolf growled in defiance for a few moments longer, then stopped. It closed it's eyes and huffed loudly through it's nose in apparent annoyance. The great grey body relaxed suddenly, lying itself down with it's snout resting on the ground. Sam's body strode confidently right up to the yielding wolf. 

Sam had the urge to flail against this other mind to stop again, but held himself back, knowing it would be fruitless. His right hand rose and reached out. The feeling of soft fur brushed his fingers as he touched the top of the wolf's head. 

'Don't fool around while I do this, if you do... Well let's just say it could turn out badly.' 

Sam instinctively tried to nod his assent, forgetting he wasn't in control of his body. Apparently the other mind got the message though, as he began. Sam felt an immense amount of his power rise to his right hand, and stagnate there. Then, just as quickly, it poured out like liquid and spread across the head of the wolf like a web. The beautiful magic patterns pulsated outward along the lines from his hand. 

"Great argwolf, from now until your release, you shall be my familiar." The words came from Sam's mouth in a tone of confidence bizarre to him. 

As he finished, the magic sucked inward and concentrated around the wolf's head. It shone fierce enough to cast shadows on the surrounding evergreens. Then, it faded into the skull of the beast, until it vanished completely. Where the patterns previously sat, the dark grey fur was lightened into the intricate spirals of his magic. Finally, Sam's hand pulled away and the wolf opened it's eyes. 

Deep inside the formerly inky black eyes, Sam could see the faint whirls of his power, appearing like galaxies in the darkness of space. His body kneeled down and touched each of the argwolf's paws, and removed the bind's that had been placed there. 

'It is done. I will retreat from your mind for now and release hold of your magic.' The voice told him. 'This argwolf is now yours, you may communicate with it much in the same way you have with me.' 

With that, Sam's mind was left to him and his power receded. 

'Wait! How...? Who...?' Sam thought, turning around. He scanned the area, forgetting momentarily that the person had been in his head. He sighed frustratedly. 'Why is it so damn hard to get any answers out of the people here...' 

Another loud huff startled him back to his senses, reminding Sam that the argwolf was there. As he turned back, he saw that the beast had made itself comfortable, it's long muzzle resting on it's huge paws. He decided to try to speak to it. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 03



"Uh, can you understand me?" He asked, still unnerved by the enormous carnivore. 

'Yes yes, of course. Spare me your astonishment, I am not some dull witted stone widdel.' Resounded a voice within his head, in the same way the man had before. 'I know your language. I had a master before, though it has been a few hundred years.' 

Sam was somewhat surprised at it's articulacy, but more so at the unmistakably feminine tone. 'You're... a female.' He tried to project toward her. 

'Why does that surprise you? Never mind that, I have already figured out why.' The wolf replied. 'Where did the strong one go, why was I left with the pup?' 

Sam rubbed the back of his head and looked down sheepishly. 'I-I'm not really sure... Sorry. I don't even know where he came from.' He said. 'Um, do you have a name or something?' 

The argwolf huffed her annoyance again. 'Very well then. Yes I do have a name, I was known as Letta by my previous master.' 

'Uh, nice to meet you then, Letta... I guess. Maybe not so nice really, I ended up pissing my pants.' Sam said, looking down at his soiled clothing pitifully. 

'I'm flattered that you were frightened so thoroughly.' Letta said, with something resembling a snort of laughter. 

'So you aren't going to kill me right?' Sam asked, still feeling his situation was precarious. 

'No. Now that we are bound, if you were to die my mind would be drawn into the void with you. I would like to continue living.' Letta answered bluntly. 

"I think I'm just going to speak to you out loud for now, doing it mentally is a bit taxing." Sam said aloud after a few moments of silence. 

'Very well.' 

"I guess I might as well clean myself since we're at this stream." Sam said, starting to undress. 

'I will go retrieve your friend.' Letta said as she rose. 

"W-Wait what?" He fumbled out. "Uhh... A-Alright then, try to avoid hurting him if you can." 

His shirt slid off between the sheath pressed against his back. As he turned to look, the argwolf had already gone, making no sound. 'Jesus christ, things are happening way too fast. Someone else is in my head, and I now have a pet that could kill me as easily as I could a spider.' Sam thought, running his hand back through his thick hair. 'Also, I killed 3 people today.' He mulled over these facts as he thoroughly rinsed his pants in the cool stream. 

He wrung the water from the soaked pants, and hung them over a low branch in the nearest tree. He repeated the process with his undergarments and shirt, then scrubbed his own body, realizing he hadn't showered for a few days. Sam dunked his face into the chill water and sucked in, the cold liquid quenching his thirst. 

In the middle of replacing his damp clothes, Sam saw a black and white image projected into his mind. It was an overhead view of Theodore. His expression was fierce and he held his lance out defensively, his long blonde hair matted with sweat. Sam realized that the image must have been sent by Letta, based on the position the point of view was from, and Theodore's guarded stance. 

He worried for his new friend's safety while he pulled the leather boots over his wet socks, with some difficulty. By the time he managed to shove his feet into them, Letta was returning. She trotted into the clearing just as he finished tying the laces. In her mouth, she held an unmoving Theodore by the back of his shirt. Sam felt a slight fear at his appearance, but it was quickly quelled by Letta. 

'No, he is not dead, only unconscious. He was not very cooperative.' She said indifferently. 

She set down his limp body before Sam, and that was when he saw the lance jutting from her left shoulder. 

'He most likely has a broken rib or 2, you should probably heal it.' 

Sam looked between Theodore and Letta with wide eyes. 

"I'll do you first, he's knocked out so he's not feeling it anyway." Sam said, skirting around the body lying face down. 

As he approached, Letta let out a snarl and her lips lifted menacingly. He jumped back, frightened for a moment but quickly remembered that she wouldn't kill him. When she saw that he wasn't backing down, she reluctantly submitted to his treatment. She rested down on the soft earth and turned her head away from Sam. Huffing through her nose, as she seemed partial to doing. 

He gingerly rested his palms on the smooth wooden shaft. From what he could tell, the tip of the lance would come out fairly easily, as it seemed to have gone in straight. 'Might as well get it over with quickly.' He thought to himself, and gripped the lance just below where it protruded. Sam closed his eyes and breathed in, then yanked the weapon free. A low whine escaped Letta as the blade was pulled. 

Blackish blood began to pour generously from the deep wound. Sam hastily dropped the lance and set his hands on the wolf's smooth fur. He accessed his power with only a slight difficulty, and recalled how he'd performed the healing on Theodore earlier. Thin tendrils of magic spread from his fingers, and the gash quickly sealed, becoming unnoticeable as her fur returned to it's normal state. Letta said nothing as Sam released his hold and turned to Theodore. 

He rolled him onto his back, and felt for any broken ribs. Theodore's breathing was labored. Fortunately it seemed there was only one, so Sam quickly repeated the process. His breathing leveled as the bone snapped back to it's rightful position. Having finished, Sam plopped down onto his rump, feeling his weariness catching up to him. As he glanced to the massive grey argwolf, lying her head on the ground between her paws, a question came to mind. 

"Letta, just out of curiosity, why did you attack us back there? You said you had a master before, so..." Sam inquired softly. 

Letta blinked and shifted her massive intelligent eyes toward Sam. She breathed deeply, as though she were considering how to answer his question. 

'Well, I suppose for several reasons. Though the main reason was hunger, my general anger toward your people factors in as well.' She said after a time. 'By "Your people" I mean humans, by the way. I am aware you are not of this realm.' 

Sam's eyebrows rose at the last bit, but after most people of the he met had guessed it, he wasn't so surprised. 

"What did these humans do?" 

'They started that foolish war! Over the usual trivial nonsense, of course. That always annoyed me when I was around them in the past. Due to their excessive need for food, the lands in their vicinity have been drained of my normal prey.' 

"Hmm. I suppose that's justified." Sam said thoughtfully, his chin resting on his palm. "Though I would prefer that from now on you don't eat anybody. At least not without asking first." He finished with a sardonic smile. 

The great wolf did that same snort of laughter she'd done earlier. Another question surfaced as Sam glanced at the now snoring Theodore. 

"Why did you chase after me?" He questioned. "Of the three of us I imagine I have the least meat." 

Letta yawned, showing off the intimidating rows of pearly, knife sized canines. 

'The answer to that is slightly embarrassing on my part, to be quite honest.' 

Sam had a hard time imagining this frightening being embarrassed in any way. 

'I suppose I could say that it was because you seemed weaker, but that would be a lie. I sensed a certain...' She paused, considering her words. 'Potential... from you, and became curious. After spending nearly a hundred years as a human's companion, I think I came to long for that again. And so, I followed you, hoping, to a certain extent, that you would be capable enough to bind me.' 

Sam rubbed his face, the prickly stubble tickling his hand. He frowned, not sure what to make of that. 

'Well you did not have the experience yourself, but in time I doubt it will be an issue. In all my time I have never seen such an overwhelming amount of power in a mage.' Letta finished. 

"Huh. People keep saying stuff like that, but it's probably just because I've hardly used it." Sam bashfully replied. 

'No, I know what I have seen.' She glared at him to emphasize her point. 

Sam nodded, somewhat reluctant to accept this. He rubbed the back of his head, as he had a tendency to do. 

'I have just noticed, that you know my name but I do not know yours, pup.' She changed the subject. 

"Oh, uh, right. I'm Sam." He said absentmindedly, occupied by thoughts of his magic. "Why did you call me pup, by the way? Seems a little condescending, considering I'm your master now and all." 

Letta let a low growl escape and her eyes narrowed. Sam's attention was immediately turned. 

'You are not my master, not until you can do what the other did. I will call you pup because you are one. One day you will be stronger, but that day is not today.' 

Sam raised his hands defensively and smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

"I get it, I get it." He said, and Letta settled down. "Speaking of which, do you know who the other mind might have been?" 

Letta's eyes stared at him piercingly. 'Yes, I know who it is, or perhaps it would be better to say I know how they came to be there. But you know as well, I can see it.' She said. 

Sam did know actually, but he was hesitant to accept it. 'It seems like Letta can practically read what's going on in my head.' Sam thought to himself. 'Wonder if it's part of the bond or if she's just able to tell...' 

"Yeah, I have an idea of who it is..." Sam said softly, shaken by the thought. "It's Samson..." 

In a castle thousands of miles from the forest, a priest brought forth a silver chalice. Inside the chalice, a swirling mixture bubbled. The liquid shone with a lustrous violet and red. A grimace distorted his wizened face as he glared down at the blasphemous brew. In better circumstances, the man would have never considered creating such a thing. Unfortunately, the young woman who'd requested it could not be declined. 

A devious smile met him as he entered the princess's quarters. In a mock throne, the young princess sat. She looked up from the book in her hands and it snapped closed. Her grin widened as she saw the priest. It was easy to see the young woman's angular face was noble. She rested her head against her hand, a lock of her blonde hair falling over her eyes. 

"It is ready?" She asked, her clear hazel eyes eager. 

"Y-Yes milady..." The old man said, not sharing her enthusiasm. "Milady, I must say it again, b-but please reconsider this. There are safer ways to gain power. I-I could even teach you!" 

"I have not the time for tedious methods, I cannot allow my sister to be queen!" The princess said, her expression changing in an instant. 

The priest looked at the woman pityingly and nodded reluctantly. He handed over the simple chalice. 

"Be cautious with how much you consume..." He said, but was silenced. 

The princess took the chalice and poured it into her mouth. Without regard for the consequences, she gulped down the entire mixture. She sighed happily, and tossed the empty silver cup to the side. It's clatters echoed in the enormous room. The woman stood, licking the last of the liquid from her lips. 

"How long until it works?" She asked, looming over the short priest. 

"I-I'm not sure exactly, probably a few weeks." The old man said, retreating fearfully. 

His fear was justified, as the princess lunged forth and gripped his throat. 

"Your help is appreciated, but I cannot have knowledge of this leaking out." The princess whispered to the suffocating man. 

His face turned a sickly shade of purple, and his mouth foamed. The princess chuckled at the wild, bulging eyes that stuck from the priests withered face. Finally, the frail hands stopped struggling, and the man fell limp. She dragged the heavy corpse to the large balcony overlooking the city, and leaned him against the stone railing. The princess heaved the legs up and over, then laughed as the limp body flailed in the air... 

After Sam's revelation, the pair did not speak for the next hour. Sam's contemplative silence was broken as Theodore began to toss and turn. He glanced at the groaning man, pushing up off his knee as he rose. 

'We should try to catch up with the survivors that went ahead. Can you carry us?' Sam asked Letta mentally. 

'I could, but I will not.' She replied. 

Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'Why's that?' 

'The ideal situation for you at this point, would be to remain a neutral figure. With your level of power, they will be wont to use you for a political tool. I saw it first hand with my previous master. Especially considering your current...' She paused, looking for the right word. '...innocence. You would be easily taken advantage of.' 

Sam frowned, unable to deny anything she'd said. 

'Why do you think my magic is so great?' He asked, still somewhat bothered by how much praise he'd been receiving. 

'My previous master was an S class mage, yet even she could not compare to what I have glimpsed in you.' She answered. 

Sam rubbed the back of his head, and scrunched his eyebrows as he pondered. He looked up to Letta as he thought of something. 

'Can you explain to me this whole class system? Theodore mentioned it, but I never had the chance to ask about it.' 

'Hm, yes I can explain the basics, though my own knowledge of it is secondhand.' She said. 'It is a ranking structure based on how powerful ones magic is. The highest rank being SSS class, then SS, S, A, B, and so on. Until the lowest, being F class. And in each class, individuals are ranked by number.' She stopped as Theodore moaned again, then continued. 

'The majority of mages are between B and D class, the numbers being in the millions. My master was one of 39 known S class mages during her time, ranked 11th. Considering the fact that there were only 6 SS and 2 SSS class, you can see how coveted your abilities would be.' 

Sam's eyes widened further and further as she went on, his ego inflating with it. 'No, No. I can't get cocky, I barely know how to control my own magic.' He shook his head and chided himself. 

'How do they measure each individual?' He asked. 

'I am not certain to the specifics, but she mentioned that there are multiple methods. The first involving many different tests to check the power of one's bind or sever. The second used an extremely expensive magical tool that measures your power directly, only the S+ classes have access to it. She also described some other archaic, and less precise methods, which are no longer or rarely in use. Well, this is how it was a back then anyways, there have likely been advancements.' 

Sam was now extremely curious as to where he would rank on the spectrum. He smiled unconsciously. He had another question for Letta, but forgot it as he heard Theodore suddenly speak. 

"Wha... Where? I'm still alive?" He said, pushing himself off the ground. 

"Finally. Theodore, you fully awake yet?" Sam asked. 

"Yeah, I think so. What happened? I thought..." He cut off as he turned toward Sam, and saw the immense gray figure lying behind him. 

"Calm down, she won't kill us." Sam said quickly, seeing him starting to franticly look for his lance. 

Theodore looked at Sam like he was a lunatic. Finally seeing his weapon lying next to Letta, he froze. She placed her paw over it, while staring into his eyes as if daring him to try. 

"What? How? Why?" He rattled off quickly, looking to Sam for answers. 

"Uh, well I bound her somehow, I guess..." Sam said, not sure how to explain the fact that Theodore's old friend was presiding in his mind. "It was lucky really..." 

Sam rubbed the back of his head, and silently hoped Theodore would just accept the vague explanation. Theodore scanned his face suspiciously for a moment, then sighed. Sam's tension released slightly as Theodore relaxed. 

"Well, I guess I don't have much of a choice but to go with it, considering it hasn't killed us already. If what you say is true, it seems that my earlier estimation of you being at least A class is quite far off." He said, rubbing his temples with a pained expression. 

Sam smiled sheepishly in response, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. 

"Where is Walten?" Theodore asked, glancing around the clearing. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Who?" 

"The other man who ran into the forest with us. Did the wolf not get him too?" He replied. 

Before Sam could react to his words, Letta spoke to him. 'He was killed, just before I got to you. I found some entrails when I was searching for this man. I assume it was by the grenks in this forest.' 

Sam frowned. "She says he died, by grenks or something..." He relayed, gesturing to Letta with his thumb. 

Theodore looked to Letta, then grimaced and looked down. "Awful way to go... I suppose that makes me the last of the guard." 

'What's a grenk?' He asked Letta after seeing Theodore's reaction. 

'They are a small primate that hunts in large packs. I have had a encounters with them in the past, and they gave me scars to remember them by.' She said, lifting her back left paw to reveal patchy area of white fur. 

'Yikes, don't think I wanna run into them any time soon.' He thought to himself, then turned back to Theodore. 

He was watching their silent exchange with unrestrained interest, but seemed to switch gears as Sam's gaze came to him. 

"Alright, well it seems we are gonna have to spend the day catching up again." He said. "If your familiar would carry us it might not even take that long." 

"She says she won't do it." 

Theodore looked at Sam inquisitively. "Why is that?" 

"Something about people taking advantage of my naiveté." He replied with a shrug. 

Theodore rubbed his chin thoughtfully at that. "Honestly now that I consider it, I think I agree with that. I could already see the coven starting to do it back there. But where will you go?" 

"Er, haven't really thought that far ahead yet." Sam said. "Do you have any ideas?" 

"Hm, well, my first thought would be to go to Eltinn, you could prepare yourself there. Then, I suppose it really depends on what you want to do..." Theodore said, scratching his stubble. 

'Now that he mentions it, what do I want to do? Should I go back home? Do I even have the choice?' Sam's face scrunched as he tried to pry an answer from his muddled thoughts. 

"I'm not really sure what I want to do yet... But that seems like a good starting point. I should have time to consider my options on the way." He said with a light smile. 

'I will carry you to Eltinn, but I will not accompany you into the town.' Letta said. 

'Yeah, I can see where that would cause some problems.' Sam replied mentally, then spoke aloud. "Alright, she says that's fine." 

"Okay, we should start moving soon, but first we should gather some food. I'm feeling quite peckish." Theodore said with a soft chuckle. "I'll go gather some edibles, it won't take long." 

With that, Theodore moved to retrieve his lance, and Letta removed her paw. 

'Tell him to be wary of predators, the grenks were not very far from here.' She told Sam. 

Sam relayed her message, and Theodore nodded affirmatively. He jogged off into the thick forest, and disappeared from sight. After a minute of awkward looking around, Sam sat down on the spongy earth next to the stream. He unsheathed his new sword and rinsed the smeared coagulated blood from the blade. With the dark gray sword cleaned, he replaced it in the sheath and stood. 

'He is returning, and fast.' Letta said suddenly. 'He is being pursued by something, or rather many somethings.' 

She rose and glared toward the direction Theodore had gone just 10 minutes before. 

'Get on my back, we may find ourselves needing to flee momentarily.' 

Sam found himself unable to move for a moment, but quickly recovered and ran toward her. As he got to her, she leaned down and he hastily clambered up her left foreleg. Just as he settled himself behind her shoulder blades, Theodore came crashing through the edge of the clearing. His face was strained, and he looked over his shoulder. He splashed through the stream clumsily and slipped slightly, barely staying on his feet. In his right hand was his lance, now coated in fresh blood, and in his left was a bundle of leafy plants. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 03



"Time to go!" He yelled, sprinting toward Letta franticly. 

As he got across the brook, Sam saw the creatures chasing him. Dark, woody colored fur sparsely covered their black skin. Yellowing canines stood out starkly on their snarling faces. They came flinging into the clearing from the trees, landing on their shorter hind legs, and pulling forward on long, muscular forelegs. 

'Grenks...' 

'Oh shit.' 

Letta dashed forward to Theodore, Sam was barely able to grip onto her thick fur to keep from flying off. She turned her huge head sideways and closed her mouth around Theodore. 

"Oomf- Hey wait!" Theodore cried, but was quickly silenced as Letta stopped and turned sharply. 

Sam gritted his teeth and dug himself in as tightly as he could. Branches smacked his back when he leaned low as Letta tore through the forest. Close behind he heard loud screeches and chittering of the apelike grenks. 

'You might have to heal your friend again soon, sorry.' Letta said stolidly. 

'Why don't we fight em?' Sam asked as a thin branch whipped his face. 'OW! that stings.' 

'This is the better option, there are just over 20 of them, I cannot make certain of your survival in that situation. Prepare to pull your sword, some of the faster grenks will likely catch me before we make it to open land, and I cannot flee and fight simultaneously.' 

'Alright, I guess that makes sense.' Sam replied grudgingly, and tensed his right arm, ready to draw at a moments notice. 

'One has gotten a hold on my tail, kill it quickly.' Letta said only moments later. 

Sam rapidly drew his blade, barely keeping his grasp on it as a branch whacked against it. He turned and saw the beast approaching him, using Letta's fur as hand holds. As the creature came close, it suddenly leapt forward, propelling itself with it's brawny forearms. It's thin lips pulled back, and Sam saw spittle flying from the tips of it's sharp teeth. He swung his sword clumsily, trying not to lose his balance. 

The flat of his blade thumped against the grenk's bald skull, and the animal went tumbling from Letta's back with a piercing howl. Had he not been in a dangerous situation, Sam might have found the sight of the grenk smacking face first into a tree amusing. 

'Another one.' 

Sam looked forward for a second to adjust his grip, and turned back just in time to the next grenk scramble up the argwolf's big tail. He could see Letta attempting to fling it free, but the animal held on. He waited impatiently, trembling with the adrenaline pumping through him. The grenk grabbed hold of the main body, and began to bound toward him. 

Just as the grenk drew near, Letta cleared the edge of the forest. The sudden brightness blinded Sam just long enough for the grenk to attack. He felt pain shoot up his arm as the creature bit into his bicep. 

"AGHH FUCK!" He yelled out as he franticly flailed his right arm. 

The grenk screeched as it fell from a lucky swing, a gash cutting across it's arms. Sam watched as the beast fell from Letta's back, and nearly followed as she stopped suddenly. The bleeding grenk tried to flee back to the safety of the forest, but was crushed by a sideways blow. Sam could see it's limbs break as it was sent flying. Letta's paw touched back down just before the now dead animal landed, 30 feet away. 

Sam looked to the forest as he accessed his magic. The remainder of the pack were halted at the tree line. 

'They will not pursue here. They know that their speed does not match mine in the open area.' Letta said as she lowered herself. 

For a moment, Sam had forgotten his magic and felt a sudden demented glee surface. His fear surged and smothered it quickly, and his power was released. 

'You should heal your friend now, I imagine he has some painful wounds.' She said. 'Tell him... that I am sorry, as well.' The last part she communicated as if it pained her to say. 

At that, Sam slid down from Letta's back and hurried to where she had lain Theodore. He heard groaning as he jogged around Letta's head. He cringed as he saw the deep punctures in Theodore's chest and stomach. His magic was already summoned as he knelt down and touched Theodore's sternum. Sam felt the connection to his body and forced his intentions into his magic. 

Wispy tendrils of power snapped outward from Sam's finger tips, and rooted in Theodore's chest. The wounds started to fill in, and small streams of blood formed, sucked away from his absorbent clothing. In just under 10 seconds Theodore was closed up and he laughed dryly. Sam grinned as he severed his connection to him and stood. Theodore stood too, and frowned at the plants he held, now covered in wolf saliva. 

"She wanted me to apologize for her." Sam said thumbing over his shoulder to Letta. "Though I don't think she had much of a choice considering the situation." 

Theodore shook his head. "No need. If she hadn't, I would likely not be around to complain about it." He said, smiling assuringly to Letta. 

She turned her head away from him as though embarrassed. Sam had to suppress a chuckle at the odd behavior. Theodore clapped Sam's shoulder as Letta rose. 

"I gotta admit, I'm a bit frightened at your power. The perverse happiness I feel just before you take it away is... unnerving to say the least." Theodore said as he tossed away the plants. "But, I'm thankful I'm alive." 

Sam smiled in response and rubbed the back of his head. 'I'm glad you're alive too...' Sam thought to himself. 

He was startled as Letta leapt away, landing right next to the dead grenk. She bit down on it and flung it up into the air. As it fell she snapped it out of the air loudly, and gulped it down. She made a show of it to the still observing pack. A rumbling growl echoed from her throat, and the remaining grenks shuffled back, disappearing into the forest. 

"At some point, I would love to hear how you managed to bind such a fearsome beast." Theodore said, visibly afraid. 

"I'm not sure how I can explain it, really..." Sam said with a nervous chuckle. 

'Let us be off now.' Letta said as she returned to Sam and Theodore. 'We will take a slight detour to avoid the group that went ahead. It will take us approximately 2 days to reach Eltinn.' 

Sam repeated this to Theodore, and they climbed onto her back. Once settled, Letta took off at a vicious pace. Sam had to dig his hands deeply into her thick fur in order to stay anchored. The wind blasted against his face as she dashed across the open plains, approaching 60 miles per hour. 

A few hours passed, during which, Sam explained what had occurred since his arrival in this world to Letta. For the most part, she remained silent on the matter, only asking questions about the council when they were brought up. Based on how she responded, Grettia was definitely one to be wary of, as Sam's instincts had told him. 

'Tell me about your world. Is it very different than this one?' She asked, as Sam's story had caught up to the present. 

'Oh yeah, wayyy different.' He replied. 'The technology is much further ahead there. Honestly, I'm not even sure how to explain it to someone with zero prior knowledge of it... Though, this world is kinda like my world, but like a thousand years in the past.' 

'You make it sound like a thousand years is a long time.' Letta said. 

'Well, it is. At least in my world. Magic doesn't really exist there, it's written about in fiction, but it's not real like it is here. The average lifetime for a human there is about 70 years currently, and was even shorter in the past. Here, I've already met several people who were apparently much older than that.' 

'I see.' She said after several moments of silence. 'What about the other species? Do the elves live the same amount?' 

'Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second. Elves exist in this place?' Sam asked surprisedly. 

'Of course they do, and based on your reaction I assume they do not in yours. What of halflings and the erren?' 

'Never even heard of em... Before you ask about anymore, humans are pretty much the only smart animals in my world.' 

'What?!' She said, her shock evident. 'I cannot comprehend that. It seems impossible.' 

'Ok, well we will continue this later.' Sam said, feeling Theodore grabbing his shoulder. 'I think Theodore wants to stop.' 

Sam turned back to Theodore, and saw him mouthing 'tell her to stop', unable to speak over the harsh wind. He nodded just as Letta slowed to a halt. 

"We need to find food and water now, before it gets too dark." Theodore said, indicating the sun which was just cresting the horizon. "Neither of us has eaten since yesterday, the enemy advance group made sure of that." 

"Uh, right..." Sam said, looking down at his lightly rumbling stomach. "Where are we gonna..." 

Sam stopped as he glanced around, only now seeing the biome had changed from the dry plains of before. The ground was blanketed in a sheet of green, small plants sprouting up abundantly among the short grass. Sam frowned in thought. 'These plants seem a little familiar...' 

"All of these plants are connected to edible roots, we can eat them raw." Theodore said, hopping from Letta's back and indicating the plants Sam was thinking of. 

He bent forward as Sam followed him down. He gripped the short stalks, and yanked upward. Dirt flung outward as he pulled the root. In his hands was a grouping of thick tuberous red roots. 'Potatoes?' Sam thought. 

"See? We can just eat these root things here. Though, they are better cooked." Theodore said, clearly proud of himself. "Do not eat the little fruits that grow above ground though, I read that they are poisonous." 

"Alright then." Sam said, bending down to pull up his own. "What do you call these, by the way?" 

"Ah, they're called tates." Theodore answered, plucking one free and brushing the dirt off. 

'Tates? That just sounds like slang for potato. Maybe they're the same thing...' Sam thought as he yanked the plant as he'd seen Theodore do. Apparently, he pulled a bit too hard, because he nearly fell on his butt, only barely keeping his balance. He grabbed the largest "tate", and separated it from the bunch. Inspecting it closely, Sam noticed it's striking resemblance to a normal, red potato. He cleaned it carefully, and saw the small black eyes on it. 

"I'm pretty sure we have these same vegetables back in my world." Sam said. "But, they're called potatoes." 

As he said it, Theodore bit into the tuber and it crunched softly. He frowned slightly as he did so, evidently not a fan of the taste. Sam followed suit when he brushed all the dirt off, and had a similar reaction. It had a slimy, yet gritty texture that definitely resembled raw potatoes, and the taste had an unpleasant bitterness to it. 

"Yeah, this is a potato for sure." Sam said between chews. "The name is pretty close too, I wonder if maybe another person like me had something to do with it." 

"Hm, I guess it's possible, though your type are rare almost to the point of nonexistence. If that is the case it would make sense if an 'other' had brought them over to this realm." Theodore replied, looking down at the potato with a grimace. "Wish we had time to cook these." 

Sam nodded his agreement then addressed both him and Letta. "We can eat these while we move, Letta can just go slower for now." 

As he said her name, Theodore's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head as they widened. "Wait, what was that name you said?" 

"Letta?" Sam said, turning his head questioningly. 

"Did you give her that name?" 

"No, her previous master did." 

Theodore just looked toward Letta and stared in disbelief. 

'Hey, uh... What's he freakin' out about?' Sam asked Letta. 

Letta huffed and glanced to Theodore out of the corner of her eye. 'My master and I used to be very well known. Apparently, our reputation has persisted through the years.' 

'Wow, so you're famous or something? That's pretty awesome.' Sam said. 

'Yes, we are somewhat famous, though infamous might be more appropriate a word.' She replied. 

'Uh, care to elaborate on that?' Sam said after she didn't continue. 

Letta exhaled loudly, seemingly an imitation of a sigh. 'It is a long tale which I can go into another time, but in short, together we managed to kill a queen.' 

Sam's own eyes widened at this and he ran his fingers through his wavy hair. 'I-I see... I really wasn't expecting that...' 

"Samson, this is another thing you might wan't to avoid letting people know. Letta, and her previous master Everen, are not well liked in our kingdom. I imagine it would be difficult to keep people from trying to kill her, if her existence was made known." Theodore said. 

His face was serious and Sam nodded quickly. Then, his expression lightened once again, and he clapped Sam's shoulder. 

"You seem to have a penchant for troublesome situations, friend. Just be careful when you're near civilization, it'd be problematic for her to be seen, as well." Theodore said with a sigh. "Well, we should travel a bit more before nightfall." 

Sam smiled weakly and looked down to his raw potato. He bit the crisp vegetable and forced down the slimy chunk without chewing it. 'I dunno if I can finish this thing.' He thought as he climbed onto Letta's back, in front of Theodore. 'Maybe I can just wait till we get to the town. I'll just hold on to em in case we can cook later or something.' 

"Letta can you help keep an eye out for a water source with us?" Theodore asked hesitantly as he got situated. 

'Tell him I will, I am feeling thirst as well.' She said to Sam and he relayed it. 

With that, Letta bound forward, steadily increasing speed. The land became a blur to Sam's eyes as she dashed. He was forced to squint his eyes to keep them from drying out, and he continued eating the unappetizing potato. He searched the landscape for water sources, as best as he could with limited visibility. 

After half an hour of unproductive scanning, Sam spoke to Letta. 'So, back to the thing we were talking about earlier. What are the erren? or whatever they're called. And the halflings and elves?' 

'Ah right, I will give a rudimentary explanation then. All 3 are very closely related, with minor differences. The erren are a people who live in the jungles of the far east. They have 4 arms, are generally a foot taller and more muscular than humans on average, and have tails. Despite their physical similarities however, mentally they are quite different. Their societies are very peaceful and they are hesitant to engage in wars. They do not have inherent magical abilities either, and live shorter lives even than non-magical humans, only around 40 years.' Letta said, her tone rigid, like she was reading a list. 

'There are 2 elven civilizations, both are to the west. One is in the enormous Leddin forest, and the other in the Fenne mountains. Their physical appearances are quite similar, slightly shorter than humans on average, with pointed ears and thin bodies. The forest elves generally have lighter hair colors, while the mountain elves have darker, these being the most discernible physical differences between them. However, in magic and temperament they are vastly different. 

'The mountain elves are usually more aggressive and prone to fighting than their more regal cousins. Their magic is also rather simple in comparison to humans and the forest elves. It is a type of shapeshifting magic. They are able to transform into any 1 animal, which is chosen when they come of age. I am not certain on the specifics, but they perform a ceremony where they have to fight and kill the animal they wish to become, with no weapons. Most become some sort of herbivorous creature, I believe it has to do with the danger involved. From that point on, they can transform to and from at will. They are also the only species in which all members are capable of magic. Are you following thus far?' 

'Uh, yeah I think so. You're pretty good at explaining stuff.' Sam replied. 

'W-Well, Everen taught me many things during our time together, I would not know it if not for her.' Letta said, sounding surprisingly flustered to Sam. 'A-Anyway, on to the forest elves.' 

'Seems like Letta isn't used to compliments or something, like she's embarrassed.' Sam thought with a chuckle. 

'The forest elves' are a very proud people. While they may not be so outwardly antagonistic as their cousins, they are very passively aggressive, and prone to condescension to anyone deemed lowly. This has caused some conflict in the past with both the mountain elves and some of the human kingdoms, who are seen as barbaric in their society.' 

'As for their magic. Referred to as regeneration magic, which is fairly self-explanatory, it allows the user to heal maladies of the flesh. Before you ask, it is not the same as bind magic. It grows new tissue when needed, rids the body of poison, and cures illness, which bind magic does not. While the healing properties are more universal than your simple reparations, it does not act nearly as quickly, and does not have the other advantages of binding magic. 

'And finally, the halflings. They too live to the east of humans, though not as far as the erren. They live in massive caverns under the Senel desert, which they've hollowed out and plated with metal. In appearance, they look just like shorter versions of humans, around 4 feet tall. They are a studious people, metallurgy being their main focus. Their fascination with metal revolves around their peoples' magic, which is the ability to manipulate metals in ways beyond normal smithing. I do not know many details about how it works, because Everen did not know much of it either.' Letta finished, sounding weary. 'And so there are your basics on the humanoid species of the realm.' 

'Man, I might have to have you remind me later, it's a lot of info to take in, but I get the gist of it.' Sam responded then glanced about, his focus changing. 'Jeez, it's already dark now. Looks like we won't be finding any water tonight.' 

'Yes I will stop soon, when I find a reasonable area for sleep. As we get closer to the town I imagine we will find some, if we do not find a source sooner.' 

A short time later, Letta came to a stop. Sam and Theodore hopped off carefully. Sam squinted, trying to see in the near pitch blackness. 

'Can you tell me where we are? I can't really see much.' He asked Letta. 

Suddenly he felt images flooding his mind as Letta sent what she saw through the connection. He saw they were in a rather barren area of land, through her black and white perspective. 

'Just sleep here, it is the best I could find for tonight.' Letta said. 'You may rest against me for warmth if you wish.' With that, she flopped down onto her side with a thud. 

Sam relayed this to Theodore, and they both gingerly stepped toward her massive panting silhouette. Sam sat down with his back against her ribs, and Theodore thumped down next to him. Soon after, Sam could hear soft snores coming from Theodore's direction, and Letta's breathing settled as well. He expected that he would have fallen straight to sleep, but found himself awake a while longer despite his exhaustion. 

'I killed people today.' He thought. 'I don't know how I should feel about that. I ended their existence, took any potential futures they had, stole them from their loved ones... Yet, I don't feel guilt. Perhaps it will come later or something. But, if it doesn't, should I be disturbed by my own callousness?' Sam rubbed his eyes. 'I think I will wait to make a judgement.' 

'I'm in this amazing world, and all I can think about is how I should feel. Somehow, I've attained magic powers, Samson's mind is bound to mine, I have a enormous, ferocious beast as a pet, and am finding myself becoming attached to Theodore like no friend I've had before. I don't know how to handle all of this.' Sam sighed and relaxed himself against Letta's warm underside. 'I wonder how to get Samson to talk to me again.' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 03



Finally, he felt himself drifting off. Those, now becoming familiar, patterns coaxed him from his wakefulness and into deep sleep. 

————— 

And thus ends Chapter 3. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. 

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 04



Author's Note: 

This chapter of my story also contains no sex, and I don't anticipate there being any for a few more chapters. If you're looking for a quickie, I suggest you look elsewhere.

This story contains minor gore and graphic descriptions of pain(Unrelated to sex). Just to warn those who are bothered by that sort of thing.

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above.

—————

Sam didn't dream that night, to his own surprise. He expected to have nightmares, seeing the severed body of Frenna, with her spilt intestines, and his own killings, but he felt the same cold unfeelingness towards those as he had the night before. He sighed as he stretched himself. He felt a soreness in his back as he realized he'd forgotten to remove his sword from where he'd bound it. 'Goddammit.' He thought as he rubbed his back grumpily.

As he stood up he noticed the misty haze that had snuck up on them in the night. He could hardly see 10 feet ahead as he scanned their surroundings. The dawning sun lit the small barren clearing where Letta had stopped to sleep. He turned back to his still slumbering companions, giggling to himself at the sight of Theodore snuggling up to his lance, leaning against Letta's thickly furred belly.

He decided to let them sleep and began to cautiously explore their surroundings, careful not to get lost in the fog. He walked silently for a while, prodding about with his boots. The earth beneath his feet was soft, and he saw sprinkled dew on the low mosslike plants on the ground. As he looked down he noticed the numerous rips in his shirt and he could feel the moist air touching his exposed skin. 'I wonder...'

Experimentally, he pinched closed the largest tear in the center of his chest and accessed his magic. He imagined his power flowing out from his fingers and sealing the fabric. He forced his intentions into his magic, and instantly small threads extended from his fingertips. He watched as the power flowed out and coalesced around the rip. Then, the thin swirling lines extended inward, covering the opening, and it snapped closed instantly.

Sam sat in amazement at the delicacy that the magic was able to accomplish. It did it in barely a fraction of a second, too. He pulled the shirt up slightly to examine the seal closer, and the only sign that it had ever been torn was a minuscule strand of prismatic power. He quickly repeated the process on all of the tears in his clothes, and was satisfied as he looked down at himself, looking like he'd never even fought. At least to a non-mage's eye.

After a moment, he realized something. He had yet to release his hold on his magic, but he did not feel the twisted joy that came when his power had no focus. 'What the...'

'Ah, that is because I am holding it back.' Said a familiar voice.

"Huh?" Sam spun around, but saw no one. 

He paused. 'Wait, that came from in my head...'

'I see you have figured out who I am now, that makes this a bit easier.' Samson said.

'Wait you're back? Where'd you even go before?' Sam asked quickly.

'Well, technically I was never really gone. I've just been doing some... exploration, so to speak.' He replied.

Sam frowned. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Most of it was just trying to find the edge to your pool of magic, but I also took some time to examine your memories too.' Samson said. 'The first task has been fruitless thus far, which I find perplexing, to say the least. But, your memories have been quite enlightening.'

'I-I see.' Sam said hesitantly. 'So, why are you in my mind in the first place? Didn't you die?'

'Hmm, well I don't know the answer to that myself. I have a few theories, but I was never taught anything related to such an occurrence, so they are mere guesses. All I can say is that somehow, as our bodies switched places, my mind was bound to yours. I believe it had something to do with my body dying in the process. As though instead of my soul being released into the void or wherever it would go, it got attached to you through our magical bond.' Samson answered.

'A-Alright then... I suppose that makes the most sense.' Sam said, rubbing the back of his head.

'Oh, speaking of magic.' Samson said after a few seconds of silence. 'From now on, I want you to avoid learning about magic from external sources. Your ignorance of the subject may prove useful, since most mages are taught specific methods, I've noticed we tend to lack creativity. You might be able to come up with some abstract concepts.' Samson said, sounding a bit excited.

'Um, do you really think that'll work? Wouldn't it be better for me to learn what is already known, so I'm not just rediscovering old tricks or something?' Sam asked confusedly.

'Meh, well it probably won't work, but it couldn't hurt to try, right?'

'Uh, yeah I think it could definitely hurt to try! What if something could've helped me survive, and my lack of knowledge gets me killed?!' Sam exclaimed.

'Ahh, don't worry about it. If it comes to that I can just take over like we did back with the argwolf, and if it doesn't seem to work then I can just give you my information on magic.' Samson said, sounding unconcerned. 'Where is that wolf, by the way?'

'Letta? She's back there a little ways, still sleeping I think. Theodore is there too.' Sam replied.

'Letta? I guess we got quite the catch, eh?' Samson said. 'If we ever need to assassinate a queen, we got someone with first hand experience. Might come in handy.'

'Well, we shouldn't need to do that, right?' Sam asked warily.

'I mean, we're going to be living a long time. What else are we going to do when we get bored?' Samson said jokingly.

Sam just shook his head, and turned to walk back. 'How do you even know anything about binding magic? You didn't have it when you were still alive?'

'What do you mean? Of course I had it! How do you think I was able to bind the argwolf?' Samson replied.

'Well if you had it, then why did you die?'

'I'd been fighting for 6 damn hours! I could hardly even think, let alone concentrate enough to use magic!' Samson said indignantly, then seemed to sigh. 'Besides, even being one of the stronger male mages, my healing isn't nearly as fast acting as yours. You could say you might be something of an anomaly among men.'

'Anomaly? How so?'

'Ah, right... Well, to put it simply, male mages are not often above B class. As far as I know, I was one of 7 male A class mages in our entire army. It is very possible that you are the most powerful man alive, as far as raw energy goes.' Samson said. 'Compared to the female mages... I'm not really sure. I guarantee you are at least SS class though from what I've been able to see.'

Sam rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. 'I see... I guess that's why some of the council didn't like me very much.'

'Hehe, yes that was quite satisfying to watch. Oh, by the way, don't go back to them again. They'll only try to use us.'

'Yeah yeah, I heard that from Letta and Theodore.' Sam said. 'But, where am I supposed to go? I don't have any ties to this place at all.'

'Exactly! That's the best part, we can go wherever we want!'

'I don't know, man, I'm a bit afraid to be honest.' Sam sighed. 'Don't you even want to see your family again? To let them know you're alright?'

'Oh, uh... yeah, I guess I do. If my sister even survived that last attack...' Samson said, sounding downcast.

'Oh, uh, right... I didn't even really consider that. Sorry.'

'Ah no worries, I'm sure she's fine. She's quite crafty when she needs to be.' Samson said, but despite his words he still sounded worried.

Sam tried to think of something else to say, but decided against it. He walked the rest of the way back in silence. He thought for a moment that he'd gotten lost, until he nearly bumped right into Letta's enormous body. Blinking, he looked along her figure and saw Theodore still sleeping in the same position. 'Jesus, it is foggy as hell.' He thought.

'Why is it so foggy around here?' He asked Samson.

'We're headed to Eltinn right?'

'Yeah.'

'Then this is the misty plains. They're pretty much always like this as far as I know, no one is really sure why. Easy to get lost in, but nothing else particularly dangerous about it.' He replied.

'Ah, alright then. Think I should wake them up?'

'If you want to reach Eltinn before nightfall, then yes.'

With that Sam walked to Theodore and gently prodded him awake. He shot up, and shook his head.

"Huh? I'm up, I'm up... Wait..." Theodore said, still half asleep.

"We should get going." Sam said. "This fog unnerves me a bit."

"Oh, uh... Yeah, yeah, we should." Theodore mumbled as he rose, propped on his lance.

Sam tried to wake Letta up mentally, but found her to be unresponsive. He debated whether he should just let her sleep after all, then shook his head and walked up to her side. He pressed his hands against her, feeling her steady breathing. After shoving against her several times she shifted slightly, but did not wake.

"WAKE UP!" He shouted and shoved her again.

Finally, her ear twitched and she raised her head slightly. A loud noise vibrated out from her and Sam didn't know whether it was a groan or a growl.

'Why do you wake me, pup?' She said, sounding grumpy.

'Goddamn, you're the deepest sleeping animal I've ever seen.' Sam said. 'I don't wanna stay in this place very long, the sooner we get to town the better.'

'I am going back to sleep.' Letta said flatly and laid her head back down.

Sam groaned, but didn't see anything he could do.

"She doesn't want to get up yet." Sam said, turning to Theodore.

He yawned and said, "that's alright, I'll look around a bit and see if I can find anything better to eat than those raw tates."

Sam nodded and stayed with Letta, just incase Theodore got lost.

'Theo seems to be the same as always.' Samson said sounding disappointed. 'I thought he'd show at least a little more emotion when I'd died...'

Sam thought for a moment, then said, 'I think he's hiding it, when I first told him, he seemed pretty sad.'

'Wouldn't surprise me really, when we first joined the queen's army I caught him crying once. He was holding a small painting of his wife. Never saw it again though.' Samson said, sounding thoughtful.

'He's married? How old is Theodore?' Sam asked, slightly surprised.

'Yeah, he's married, and I think he turned 22 recently. He's got a 3 year old daughter too, back home. His wife is the sweetest woman I've ever met, they're a perfect match in my opinion.' Samson said with a laugh. 'Once, I got the chance to visit them on one of our short leaves. While I was there, Ella, that's her name, tried to feed us about 20 different pies, and I'd never seen Theo smile so much. I couldn't help but get caught up in their happiness.'

Sam found himself smiling at the thought, and chuckling softly.

'Well, at least my sister was distraught... She always was quite attached to me though.' Samson said.

'Yeah, I could tell by the way she beat the love into me when I told her I wasn't you.' Sam said. 'Where were ya when that happened, pal?'

'Hey! I still hadn't figured out what had happened to me, and our connection wasn't strong enough to communicate yet, don't blame me!' Samson said with mock indignation.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. 'Where does your family live? Perhaps we can stop by. Not like I've got any other plans anyway.'

'They're in Stralden, the capital.' Samson said.

'I know that name.' Sam replied. 'Grettia mentioned sending me there when I was at their council tent. Maybe we shouldn't go, actually.'

'Well, if anything Stralden would be one of the hardest places to find us. The capital is enormous, if we got a haircut and a change of clothes nobody would find us. Not enough people saw you personally, and I doubt anyone in the council aside from Grettia perhaps would be willing to look for you themselves. You see, the female mages in power tend to dislike unusually powerful males, shatters their sense of superiority.' Samson said, a tinge of satisfaction coming from his tone.

'I-I see...' Sam replied uncertainly. 'Then I suppose we'll go to Stralden.'

'Yes, and...' Samson started, but was cut off by a yell from the mist.

Sam shot up instinctively, and squinted as he looked into the fog, searching for the source. 'That was Theodore...' He sprinted into the haze. As he started, he felt a shift in the air behind him as Letta leapt forward. 'Wow, really? Wouldn't get up when I was yelling.' He thought, then berated himself for thinking such a thing when his friend was in danger.

"Theodore!" Sam yelled as he ran, then said to Samson, 'I thought you said this place wasn't particularly dangerous.'

'I didn't think it was!' He answered defensively. 'Hey watch it!'

Sam realized his warning too late, and ran straight into what had caught Theodore. He fumbled and tried to step back, but his feet were stuck. Around boots was a viscous, translucent ooze. A short distance away Sam saw Theodore's silhouette stood flailing about, trying to free himself from the trapping sludge. 'What the hell is this?!'

'It's a slime!' Responded Samson, to his thought. 'It will dissolve your body if we don't get out quick!'

Sam felt terror crawl up his spine, that didn't sound like something his magic could fix. He began to panic. 'Letta! Help us!' He screamed mentally.

'I was just as foolish.' She replied shamefully. 'I only have one paw out of reach, and I cannot get enough leverage.'

"Fuuuuck..." Sam mumbled as he tried to yank backward to safety, only inches away.

'Wait, calm down, just try to think for a moment. Panicking won't get you out.' Samson said, but despite his words he sounded scared.

Sam tried to steady his mind, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. 'My boots!' He looked down hopefully, and saw the slime slowly converging around his feet. It was climbing up the leather, seeking to enclose him in a corrosive cocoon. He franticly bent down and untied the laces, and wriggled his right foot free. He pulled it out with a cheer of victory.

He stepped down on the uncovered earth behind him, and again bent down to his other boot. The slime touched the tips of his fingers just as he finished untying it, and he felt a tingling against his skin. He jerked his left foot out of the boot. He fell backward flailing his arms, trying to keep his balance. As he hit the ground he laughed shakily, then remembered his two companions.

'Help Letta first, you can't get Theo out alone. The slime will have reached the tops of his boots already.' Samson said, his worry obvious.

'Letta where are you?! Bark or something!' Sam sent out as he stood up, and backed away from the burbling slime.

He heard a low whine from off to his left, the direction opposite to Theodore. One last look at his boots, and he saw the slime pouring into them. His fingertips stung slightly as he turned to run to Letta. This time, he watched his feet, carefully staying several yards from the perimeter of the slow moving slime. A second later, he found where Letta had gotten stuck. Her forepaws and back left paw were all sunken into the entrapping sludge.

It was already slowly climbing her legs, and reaching out for the final one. He quickly wracked his mind for anything that might save her. 'What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?! C'mon, c'mon think Sam think!' He stood there, knowing that he didn't have the strength to pull her out. Slapping himself, he forced his thoughts to focus. 'Samson, do you have any ideas? How do you get out of this slime thing?'

'I-I don't know, I thought they had been killed off years ago.' Samson said, sounding panicked for the first time. 'I only know they can be killed with fire, but we don't have any...'

"Dammit!" Sam grunted and came closer to Letta's hind leg. Letta looked back at him as he did. Her ears pressed down and eyes wide, looking a combination of fear and humiliation. "Don't worry I'll think of something!"

He could see the slime eating away at her fur. It blackened and assimilated into the body of clear green. Her free paw was scratching away desperately, trying to gain some traction. An idea passed through his mind, and he grasped for it. 'That's it!' Crouching down, he reached for his magic. It took a moment, but the power surfaced. His bare arms flared brightly, the involute forms whipping excitedly across his skin.

Touching Letta's large paw with both hands, he imagined his power flowing around her leg and connecting to the earth. Thick ropes of power branched out from his hands and circled her paw. Her fur parted around the cords as they grew downward. Then, as the magic touched the dry dirt below them it snapped off of his arms, like a taught cable being cut. He stood up then spoke to Letta.

'Letta, I've anchored your foot, try to pull yourself free! Now!' Then he sprinted around to her ensnared hind leg and anchored his own feet to the ground. He leaned forward and hugged the thick leg, ready to help with his meager strength.

He felt her muscles clenched and began to pull backward with everything he had. The leg did not seem to budge. He gritted his teeth and yanked backward with a growl, Letta followed suit. Finally, he felt the slime give slightly, and then with a squelch her paw was jerked free. It knocked him backward, and he slammed on his back, unable to gain his balance with his legs bound. The air was knocked from his lungs and he grunted.

Quickly, he released his binds and jumped up, gasping for breath, and backed away from the pool. Where Letta's paw had just been the slime was coalescing back into an unbroken blob. Sam lunged to her freed paw and hastily anchored it down.

"Letta, again!" He shouted, cringing as he saw the patchy, blackened fur.

He saw her muscles shift and strain through her thick fur. Her front right came up first with a wet slurping sound, and she cradled it under her. The slime groaned and gurgled as it converged once again.

'U-Unbind my hind legs.' Letta said, her pain was bleeding into her words and she spoke rapidly. 'Not just yet, wait for me to pull my other one free so I can fall backward away from it.'

'Got it.' Sam said and knelt down between her legs, one hand on each. He stared intently at her last paw, waiting for it to break from the slime.

He heard her, rather than saw her, heaving with her full power. A roar emanated from within Letta as her paw breached from the clutches of the all consuming muck. Sam hastily released the binds, and they snapped away. Falling to the earth slackly and crumbling away like burning paper, the binds disappeared. He released his power, not allowing it to overtake him.

Above him, Letta reared back on her hind legs and hit the ground on her side with a booming thud. She rose up slowly, and began hobbling toward where Theodore's excruciating screams echoed. 'I-I can't...' He heard Samson say faintly in the back of his mind.

Sam followed at a sprint. He grimaced at her left forepaw, which was held up as she limped forward. It had very few remaining patches of fur, and it bled in small trickles from the raw pink skin. He looked away biting his lip.

When they reached Theodore, Sam clenched his jaw. The slime had risen nearly to his waist. Through it, Sam could see only fragments of his clothing remaining, and globules of blood were peppered around what remained of his legs.

"Quickly Letta, pull him out!" Sam yelled franticly, unable to watch as Theodore screamed and tore at his hair.

Letta leant toward him gingerly and clamped her muzzle around him as gently as she dared. Sam could still hear the screams of agony through her mouth as she yanked him out of the gripping sludge. He followed her again over the packed earth, and away from the abomination that had nearly claimed them. The mists parted around her as she trotted, he could hear a faint whine under the piercing cry from Theodore.




Bound in Spirals Ch. 04



Sam tried to contact Samson several times as they ran, but he'd retreated from his mind. 'Dammit, your friend is suffering and you flee like a goddamn coward!' Sam thought with unbridled rage. 'If you return I will make you regret it.' He growled furiously, and put the thoughts aside. There were more important things at the moment.

'Letta set him down, I need to try to help him if I can.' Sam said grimly.

Letta slowed, and slumped to the ground. She released Theodore from her maw, and he rolled out in a wet, bloody pile. Large puncture wounds lined his chest where Letta had bit down on him, and his legs were riddled with craters, oozing dark blood. Just above where his boots had been was the worst. There, rings sloped outward, showing bone in the deepest areas. Sam winced, knowing he could not fix this. Theodore was scratching away skin on his face as he howled. Tears streaked with red poured from his wide eyes.

Sam said a silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in, that his only friend in this world would survive somehow. He reached tentatively for his power, and rested his hands gently on Theodore. He looked down into eyes that didn't see him back, and channeled his magic into Theodore. The torn skin on his head sealed quickly, and the wounds in his abdomen clasped closed a second after. The crippled legs remained unchanged.

'Letta, what do I do? Is there anyway we can save him?' He asked despairingly.

Letta did not answer for what seemed to be a long time. Sam stared down at the man who's body had paled with blood loss. His screams had died down, as his consciousness drifted away. 

"Dammit, if we get you out of this alive you aren't going looking for food alone ever again..." Sam whispered.

Suddenly, a warped elation ran through Sam, and distantly he realized he hadn't released his hold on his power. As he glanced over Theodore's wounds once again, he giggled madly. He barely managed to crush down his magic, and clenched his hands on his knees. Tears fell from his eyes and he sobbed. He'd begun to hate himself for those feelings, whether he'd thought them himself or not. Finally, Letta spoked to him.

'I think the only chance he has, is to find one of the forest elves who has the magic.' She said weakly, and Sam remembered what she'd explained to him the day before. 'In my current condition, I think we can reach the nearest of their settlements in 5 days. He does not have that long.'

Sam pounded his fists into the hard earth, and yelled in frustration. He hadn't felt so useless since his father had died, 6 years back. He looked back to the unconscious Theodore, who was now breathing laboredly. Blood was pooled around his legs. Sam reached his magic again, and pressed his hands on Theodore, hoping for a different result somehow. The glittering patterns extended from his hands, and encasing Theodore's limp form.

The blood around his legs streamed upward and poured back into his open wounds. Theodore's skin regained it's color slightly, but the leg wounds still did not close and the blood began seeping out once again. As he looked, Sam thought he saw something strange. He leaned in closer to the open pits, and he saw something of a transparent green color. 'Uh oh...'

"Crap, some of the slime is still in his legs!" Sam said. "Fuckin' hell."

He tried to stick his fingers in and pull the slime out, but it started to eat away at him. He cursed and shook his stinging hand. 

"I can't get it out." He said, looking at the reddened skin on his fingertips. He wracked his brain for anything that would save Theodore. A last resort option passed through his mind. He nearly disregarded it, but Theodore's situation was beyond desperate...

———

Tenall strode down the corridor, barely keeping her smile dignified as she anticipated the coming events. Behind her back, her hands tensed and released with excitement. The day she would be announced the next queen had come, and she would delight in seeing her sister's reaction to her superior power. The potion the priest had brought her had increased her magic just enough to surpass Dettella in time for the ceremony.

In the kingdom of Crestell, the people were clamoring with the hope of her sister's rise to the high seat following their mother's untimely death. Tenall would have liked to have had her sister killed prior to her mother, to lessen suspicion, but it only required minor rearrangements to her plans. The beginning of which would take effect that day, and after the ceremony she would become a far less likely suspect of her sister's assassination. After all, what reason would the new queen have to kill the perfect sister so dear to her heart?

Tenall breathed deeply to calm her nerves as she stopped at the end of the hall, just before the large white marble doors to the grand hall. Her guards stepped forward in their adorned purple armor and prepared to push open the ornate, heavy doors. She assumed her most graceful smile and straightened her back. Clasping her hands as the men pushed, she walked onto her first stage.

———

Hennel watched from the side of the hall as Tenall approached the dais where the power gauges stood tall. He knew his sister was planning something, what it was he had no clue, but he could tell by the strained poise she was showing. He did not like what his instincts were telling him. She hated both him and their older sister, Dettella. He had never been fond of her either, but he did not despise her as she did him. She was conceited, devious, devoted to power and he suspected she would kill anyone in the kingdom, if given the chance, but he couldn't hate her.

She stepped up onto the violet carpeted platform and the small crowd of high nobles and powerful mages silenced. They stared at her, waiting with bated breath for the other princess to arrive shortly after. Tenall's dress was a shimmering black that refracted the light from the impressive crystal chandelier that hung high in the hall. Hennel saw her cheek twitch under her long golden bangs, as though she was struggling to contain laughter.

He wanted to fidget in his stuffy suit, trying to keep from scratching the itch on his side. Tenall took in the crowd slowly, pausing on him for a fraction of a second. Her lip pulled up in that moment and only Hennel saw it. The contempt only showing to his concentrated scrutiny of her, and even he wasn't sure he'd seen it. His face remained outwardly emotionless, as was expected of one of the high guard.

He was supposed to remain impartial to the selection like the rest of the guard, but he could not help his leaning toward Dettella. The outcome was fairly certain from his point of view, as he'd been able to see each of their abilities personally, unlike most, and he knew that Dettella would win. She had shown superior control and capacity for magic from the few moments he'd seen it. Though, princesses are never gauged until the selection, so he did not know her class specifically but he'd have guessed she was SS.

Suddenly, the crowd's whispers resumed and their attention turned from Tenall. From the opposite side of the hall, the sound of the massive black marble doors scraped outward. The 2 high guards stepped aside and in walked Dettella. Her light blonde hair pulled back in a long, loose braid. The pale gold and silver dress she wore was just as stunning as Tenall's, but maintained Dettella's more reserved personality. The high collar was fringed with white. Intricate whirls of gold and silver caught the eye as she stepped, and it seemed to swim along the fabric.

Her hands clasped in front of her, Dettella stepped up onto the dais and nodded to the gathering of people. The crowd cooed delightedly. Her light smile and kind eyes were genuine. Out of the corner of his eye Hennel caught a sneer on Tenall's face which quickly vanished as Dettella turned to her. The quiet chatter died down as the princesses approached the gauges. Dettella removed a pristine white glove, and Tenall removed a purple one.

That was his cue, and he stepped forward from his position to the side. He raised a black gloved hand and spoke rehearsed words in his sonorous voice.

"Today we join to decide the succession of the royal family. Following tradition, the new queen shall be chosen by the measure of their power. Place your right hands on the gauge." Tenall's hand rose and she placed it on the thin metal grip that jutted from the side of the massive gray gauge, Dettella did the same on the opposite gauge. "Now please summon your magic forth."

On Tenall's sleeveless arm dark lines streamed to her fingertips, like liquid flowing through cracks. When it touched the grip, the lines widened and seemed to suck in the light around her skin, causing shadows to obscure her slightly. Dettella's power rose from under her skin gradually. Glistering silver patterns crested to the top of her half covered arm, and twinkled like the light that shone through the crystals above. Hennel wondered what it must have looked like to the people who had no magic of their own.

Suddenly, the gauges came to life. Replications of their magic ran up the machines that only the halflings could make. Hennel watched with disbelief as Dettella's power peaked just above the line indicating the lowest of SS class, and Tenall's continued. His composure cracked and his mouth dropped open. It hit it's cap just below the SSS class line. For a moment he forgot the words he had to say next.

"I-I..." He stammered, then managed to recover enough to speak. "Tenall Reyall ascends to the high seat from this day until her death..."

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence of the room as he finished speaking. Tenall had a wild grin on her face, that only he and Dettella could see due to her lowered head. He watched as Dettella removed her hand from the gauge, and pulled her glove on. She curtsied with unmatched grace.

"I swear my fealty to queen Tenall." She said with closed eyes and a hand over her breast. Her smile was unmarred by the shock everyone else had expressed.

Hennel looked at the new queen and saw her victorious glee turn into a hateful scowl when Dettella did not give her the reaction she wanted. Dettella stood up straight and clasped her hands in front once again. Then, she turned and walked from the room, leaving everyone still in shock.

The high guard followed Dettella's example as soon as she'd exited the room, and swore fealty. Hennel did so grudgingly, and strode from the room...

———

Sam looked back toward where he'd bound Theodore to Letta's back. The stumps of what remained of his legs after the amputation were wrapped in the red shirt he'd been wearing before. Sam had done the best he could considering his very limited knowledge on the procedure, and a poor work environment. Letta had stopped several times now so that he could use his magic on Theodore to put as much blood he could back into him until it coagulated.

"Hang in there buddy, we'll get you to the elves. They'll heal your legs, I'm sure of it." Sam said to the unconscious Theodore.

Letta's pace had slowed to less than half her previous speed, and she was still running on three legs. She had barely spoken since they'd started traveling, despite Sam's repeated attempts to reassure her. Samson still had not resurfaced either, though Sam did not really care to speak to him again at that moment.

'This would not have happened were I to have listened to you, like I should have.' Letta said to him finally. 'I was a fool. I am sorry, master.'

Sam shook his head frustratedly. 'Enough with that crap already. Regretting it now won't make it any better, just worry about getting us to Eltinn as fast as you can.' He said. She seemed to be pondering his words for a while and did not end up responding, but her pace did increase gradually from that point.

Letta ran on for the rest of the day without pause, and Sam began to regret not bringing the raw potatoes, despite his previous complaints. By the time night fell, they had put the misty plains far behind and Sam was grateful to be able to see the clear night sky. He wondered if Letta would stop soon, but it seemed that she was determined not to until they reached the town. The night was uneventful compared to the previous days.

By morning Sam worried that Theodore's wounds might have gotten infected. His body was coated in a film of sweat and his breathing was ragged. He found himself beginning to doubt that Theodore would live long enough to reach the elves. 'If Theodore dies... Where do I go from there...? No, I can't let myself despair, I have to keep Letta going if nothing else. I will get Theodore back to his family alive, legs or not.'

'Can you relax your hands on my fur, please? It hurts, master.' Letta said softly, breaking him from his puzzlings.

He loosened his clenched hands. 'Oh, er... sorry.'

———

Tenall stormed into her new chambers late in the night. After a banquet that seemed like it would never end, she had a day's worth of pent up anger. 

"That scummy wench did not even raise an eyebrow when I destroyed her dreams! Grrragh!" She shouted, and slammed the diamond chalice of elven wine against the wall. The dark liquid splashed onto the elaborate portrait of her mother that still hung in the room. "She was supposed to feel defeated! Stuck up cunt just smiled like nothing was wrong. She couldn't have known, right? I had that priest's family, h-he couldn't have told!"

She paced in front of the enormous, canopied bed. She was tempted to go kill Dettella personally, but discarded the idea after a few minutes. "Well, no matter. She'll be dead soon enough anyway, and I will have the kingdom to do with as I choose. Gah, if only I could kill her myself! See the terror in her eyes as I slowly suffocate her, and I could bring that lapdog of hers in too, torture him to death right in front of her. HA! Oh how sweet that would be..." She shook her head, and tried to calm her excited breathing.

"I will have him killed soon as well, but I cannot kill them at the same time, unfortunately. Then, the only siblings I shall have left will be those powerless wretches, and I will be able to take my time killing them." She mumbled to herself, her anger drifting away to be replaced with glee. She sat on the soft, white fur covered bed and ran her fingers over the gilded post.

Her mind turned to thoughts of the ongoing war with Stralden, she would kill their queen as well she decided. "Insolent old hag... Thinking to defeat us was a fool's dream." She would not continue to defend as they had before, no, she would conquer them and destroy their silly ideals just as she had her sister's.

"To think the imbecile attacked us just because we enslave women as well as men, hehehe... Perhaps I will keep her alive though, but only long enough for her to see her precious 'morals' crushed." She mused aloud. Her exhaustion began catching up to her, and she removed her black dress then slipped into a silk robe that was lying on the plush purple chair in the corner.

She yawned as she slid under the thick covers, and she was asleep almost before she hit the engulfing pillows.

———

Sam shaded his eyes with a hand. Letta said they were close to Eltinn, but he had still yet to see it on the horizon. He felt the midday sun beating down on him as he scanned. They needed water soon, Theodore especially, and at that point it seemed they would have to wait until they reached the town.

Sam glanced back at Theodore's pale body, still slick with sweat. He'd been too afraid to check his wounds since they'd scabbed over, he didn't want to see the beginning of infection that he was sure was there. 'Not like there's anything I can do for that...' Sam thought. 'I hope they've got a decent doc or something in Eltinn, at least good enough for Theodore to live until I get him to the elves.'

'It is there.' Letta said suddenly and Sam turned forward again.

He squinted and thought he could just pick out some small lumps in the distance. "Those must be houses or something..." He murmured under his breath, then to Letta said, 'I'll have you drop us off outside the town and I'll carry him in or something. Don't need the extra attention right now.'

'Yes, master.' She replied meekly.

Sam winced when she referred to him as 'master'. He found that he preferred Letta's previous more defiant, self-confident attitude. It just didn't feel right for her to seem so weak all of a sudden. 'I could understand her regret, but I don't know why she's so... depressed. I feel kinda guilty somehow too, just by talking to her.' He rubbed the back of his head as he pondered the troubling things.

As she ran, Sam was able to catch a glimpse of a large lake off to the right of the town, before they went down the hill and it disappeared again. When he looked at it he realized how dehydrated he really was. 'Damn, I need to get Theodore water, and fast. If I'm this thirsty...' His thought cut off as he saw a farmhouse just to their left. There was a man working the plowed field, but his back was turned to them. When they were out of sight from the farmer, Sam realized he'd been holding his breath and shook his head.

'Fool, even if a few people see her, we'll be out of town before it spreads too much anyways.' He chided himself. He rubbed his eyes after letting out a yawn. 'Maybe we can sleep here for the night or something though, at least a cat nap.' He shook his head again to try to wake himself up, he had important things to do first.

Letta slowed to a halt about half a mile from the edge of the small town, and let Sam off. He unbound Theodore and hefted his limp form up onto his shoulder. Theodore murmured something unintelligible as Sam grunted under his weight. 'You'd think he'd be a little lighter after taking off his legs.' Sam reproached himself for the thoughts. 'I shouldn't be fooling around right now.' He sighed and started a slow jog.

'Master, what do you wish me to do?' Letta said. 'Shall I wait here?'

Sam turned with a frown, and thought for a moment. 'Just go hide somewhere by the lake, you need to drink as much as any of us.' He replied, after seeing her heavy panting. 'I'll come see you when I can. And, don't worry about Theodore, I won't let him die. I promise.'

Letta nodded her head at that. Sam gave a rueful smile to her, and turned back toward Eltinn. Despite his words, Sam was not feeling very optimistic about how things were going. 'I'll try to see if I can get the doc to treat her wounds too, if I even find one.'

When he passed the first building, which he couldn't tell the purpose of, he was breathing even harder than Letta had been. He needed sleep more than he'd thought, it seemed. Ahead, he could see someone walking past. As he came closer, he saw that it was a middle aged woman. She wore tall leather boots, short brown pants, and a beige tank top. She turned to look at him curiously as he stopped in front of her.

He tried to speak, but only managed to gasp for air. She seemed to notice Theodore and her eyes widened. "You need Mother Ranlenn. Follow. Quickly boy!" She said when Sam looked at her bewilderedly, and started off towards the middle of town at a brisk pace.

Sam followed, barely keeping his clumsy legs from buckling under him. His eyes stared at the woman's back and didn't see anything else. He was so focused on moving forward, that he nearly bumped into her when she stopped for a moment.

"Oi, you there! Help this kid carry em, he need be over to Mother Ranlenn." The woman shouted to a pair of confused men who had been chatting outside a house. Sam was aware of Theodore's weight being taken from him, and he clutched him for a moment before realizing they were helping.

"Th-Thanks," Sam managed between gasps. The woman slowed down to walk next to him as the two men carried Theodore ahead.




Bound in Spirals Ch. 04



"What happed to em?" The woman asked. "You get got by lempens er sumthin?"

Sam didn't answer at first, still trying to breath. "Hah? Uh, no. W-Well it's a long story..." He said, not feeling like explaining how they'd gotten to Eltinn from the misty plains in just over a day.

"Well, ya got plenty a time to tell it while the Mother works on yer friend there." She said, pointing to Theodore. Sam sighed and looked at the woman. Her eyes were excited and curious. He just looked away, shaking his head.

'Read the atmosphere lady. This isn't the time!' He thought exasperatedly. He wished he could just lie down and rest on the street. 'I'm running on fumes... No, I gotta make sure Theodore's taken care of before anything.' Slapping himself to keep his head clear, he jogged to catch up to the two men.

A few minutes later, the men turned and walked through an opened door. Sam stopped and looked at the small building. It was 2 stories tall, and he saw assorted herbs hanging along the dark wooded outer walls. The roof was steeply slanted, what he guessed was a round chimney of gray stone jutted awkwardly out at a diagonal, white smoke billowing out. He blinked when he saw what looked like a witches cauldron sat in the dirt below the window.

"Go on in, boy. Why ya standing round for?" The woman said as she walked up beside him. She slapped his back, and he walked slowly into the building. He glanced back and saw her looking at him with dark brown eyes, gesturing for him to go on but not following.

As he entered, the men were heading out with a hurried stride and a fearful look in their eyes. Sam frowned at that, but disregarded it as him seeing things. He glanced about the small front room, which seem to be a sort of waiting area. A few small wooden chairs were spread about the room, and a short bench lined the wall to his right. The stone floor was covered by a coarse carpet, made of weaved brown straw.

Sam stepped toward the door that led out of the front room, to his left. He grasped the handle and opened it, peeking inside. His eyes widened as he took in the large room that must have taken up the rest of the first floor. It was lined with about fifteen narrow beds, mostly empty aside from two of them. One was occupied by a young boy, who seemed to be sleeping. His face was gaunt and his skin was pale.

The other was where Theodore lay. Sam's makeshift bandages had been removed, and fresh blood poured from the areas where scab had been torn away. The wounds oozed clear yellowy pus, and the skin surrounding the area was puffy and red. Sam cringed, he knew the first signs of infection when he saw them. 'Damn.'

He turned his head when he heard clinking glass, and saw who he assumed was Mother Ranlenn. She was surprisingly young, around mid twenties he thought, considering she was called Mother. Her curly auburn hair bounced as she darted from shelf to shelf, collecting a group of small vials. She unstoppered and poured a few of them into a boiling pot of water in the fireplace, then put the rest into a small wooden bowl.

She was grinding them with a pestle as she turned and saw Sam standing in the doorway. "You're the one who brought him in?" She asked, gesturing to Theodore while still grinding the herbs. Her accent smooth, unlike the grating voice of the woman who had shown him to the place.

"Uh, yeah." Sam said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, and Sam flinched back slightly.

"Sit over here," she said, indicating a stool near Theodore's bed. "Explain to me how this happened."

Sam walked over hesitantly, and dragged the stool a bit closer to the bed. She pulled up another stool, nearly identical to Sam's only it was cushioned. He tried to come up with a logical lie to say that wouldn't raise her suspicion, but when he caught her hard eyes looking at him he threw that thought away. He didn't think he could come up with a good enough lie in his state of fatigue anyways.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, then began to speak. "We got caught in a slime." He said bluntly, and looked to her caramel colored eyes for a reaction.

"They were killed off 50 years ago, and it is four days travel from the misty plains by foot. His wounds are not that old. You got any better lies?" She said, gaze blank and her tone unfriendly.

"I'm not lying, I swear. I was able to get out of it by taking my boots off." Sam explained, raising his feet to show his dirt covered socks. "Theodore wasn't so lucky. I barely got him out and when I did, it had eaten into his flesh. Down to the bone in some areas."

Her eyes were still narrowed, but she didn't seem to be as disbelieving as before. "That doesn't explain how you got here so quickly. And, what happened to the rest of his legs?" She asked.

"I amputated them. There was still some of the slime stuck in the deepest parts, and I couldn't pull it out." Sam showed the reddened skin on the tips of his fingers, and looked downward. "I didn't really know what else to do..."

Mother Ranlenn stood up. "Hold this," she said and handed the mortar and pestle to Sam. Her hands touched his own as he took it. Sam gasped, staggering back. In that brief moment, he'd glimpsed erratic black patterns. His eyes were as wide as they could go, and he stared openly at the woman in front of him.

He felt like running, getting out of the house, away from the woman. He glanced at Theodore, and knew he could not. He couldn't abandon him, not now. He stumbled backward, tripping over the stool he'd just been sat in. His eyes caught hers, and he saw surprise there too. Then, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words left it.

He rose to his feet carefully, still holding her eyes. He looked at his friend again, not knowing what to do. 'I'm overreacting, she hasn't even done anything to me and I'm already ready to run away...' He thought. 'Should I say something maybe? Apologize?' 

Mother Ranlenn finally spoke. "Wh-Who are you...?" She asked softly, her wariness plain in her eyes. It took Sam a moment to realize she had asked a question.

"Uh, I'm Sam." He said eventually, and she looked at him as if expecting more. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to figure out what she wanted him to say. "I'm from a... distant land, I suppose you could say."

Sam saw her eyes dart to his sword for only a fraction of a second, but he recognized that she feared him. "I, um... I'm sorry for startling you, I didn't really expect you to be a mage or something." He said with a nervous laugh. Slowly, he picked up the stool and sat back down, holding the bowl with both hands now.

Mother Ranlenn shook her head. "I... We can talk after I have helped your friend. I will believe what you have said for now." She said, but her mind was clearly shifting gears back to Theodore. "Cutting away his legs was the right choice, do not fret over it. If left, the slime would have continued to eat away at him and grown larger. I will have to remove this infected tissue first. I do not think it will be necessary, but if he starts bleeding too much it would be helpful if you brought it back into him."

"Alright." Sam replied, glad that he didn't need to explain more. She placed both her hands gingerly around Theodore's left leg, and Sam saw her forms appear. The shadowy, purplish black lines shifted down her uncovered forearms, moving mechanically. The sharp turns and erratic movements held his gaze.

Suddenly, Sam saw small shavings of flesh come off Theodore's stumps. He watched with amazement as the infected flesh began to peel away with precision unmatched by normal tools. Mother Ranlenn's brow furrowed in extreme concentration. Small trickles of crimson fell from Theodore's reopened wounds. A minute passed, and she was still severing away at the small bits of infection that remained. Lastly, she rounded away the jagged edges of bone.

She sighed and relaxed her face. Sam saw her magic retreat, and she leaned in close to inspect her work. Sam was surprised to notice that very little blood came out, despite all that had been removed. She dabbed at the area with a clean white cloth, and turned to Sam holding out her hand for the bowl he held. He handed it over, careful not to touch her, and continued to observe as she gently coated the area with the gray-green paste. She turned and grabbed a long bandage from one of the wooden shelves and began to wrap his leg.

"Wow." Sam said. "I didn't know it could be used so precisely like that."

Mother Ranlenn looked at him and smiled lightly before going to Theodore's right side. Sam continued to watch in morbid fascination as she repeated the process on his right leg. Finally, she spoke again as she turned to pull the boiling kettle from the fireplace.

"So, would you like to tell me how you managed to get here from the misty plains in such a short time?" She asked as she poured the steaming brew into a thick clay cup. Placing the cup down on the shelf, near Theodore's bed, she turned to Sam.

Sam looked into her eyes for a moment, then turned his head down in thought. 'Well, I might as well. I need her to help Letta too, so I don't have much of a choice I guess.'

"Er, yeah I suppose I'll tell you, but can I have some water or something first? I haven't had anything to drink in like 2 days." Sam said at last.

"Sure." She said and grabbed another clay cup. She dipped it into a bucket of water that Sam hadn't noticed before. Handing the dripping cup to Sam, she sat herself back on the stool in front of him after removing her apron. She waited expectantly.

Sam took a sip of the water at first, then gulped down the rest in one go. He held out the cup again and asked for more. He drank another cup full before speaking. "Alright. Ah, how to explain..." He started, rubbing the back of his head. "Um, what do you call an animal that's like, bound to you? I'm not sure what to call it."

"A familiar?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you're so hesitant? Familiars aren't so abnormal."

"Yeah, it's my familiar that carried us. But, I wasn't really hesitating because of that." He said, and paused. "It's because she's, well, she's an argwolf."

Mother Ranlenn's eyes looked like they were about to pop from her skull. "Y-You... I. Wait... You mean you managed to bind an argwolf? My word... How? How did you manage such a feat?"

He smiled sheepishly. "It's hard to explain that and well, frankly, I'd rather not."

"Who are you again? And how did you end coming to Eltinn of all places?" She asked, her eyes searching him up and down, glancing at his sword again. "You must be a lord, at least. Wait, you didn't come from the battlefront, did you?"

"I, uh, well we did come from the battlefront, but I wasn't fighting there. I'm a... traveler I guess. Oh, and no, I'm not a lord or anything, not even close," Sam answered with a laugh. He smiled uncertainly. "We had to flee the army's camp when they were overwhelmed, and we sorta ended up heading this way. I'm at a loss for what to do next though."

"I see... Wait, you mean to say that Crestell's armies have broken through?! I-I must go warn everyone... We must get a messenger to the capital!" Mother Ranlenn said, suddenly frantic. She jumped up from the stool and ran for the door. Sam watched impassively as she dashed away, holding her dark green dress up with both hands.

He scratched his head and yawned. 'Crestell, huh? I wonder why they're fighting each other... Man, I'm tired. Mother Ranlenn wouldn't mind if I slept on one of these beds, would she?' He thought, and stood slowly. He placed the clay cup down on the shelf, next to the group of matching dish-ware. As soon as he had curled up on the bed next to Theodore's, his eyelids began to close...

———

Hennel knocked on the solid wooden door before him for the third time that day. The first two times Dettella had not answered, and he had begun to worry. 'Perhaps her calm yesterday was an act after all...' He thought with a frown. He jumped when the door swung open suddenly.

Dettella stood there in an elegant, light blue gown. "Ah, brother, I apologize for not answering earlier, if that was you. I needed time to think. Please, come in." She said, sounding as unruffled as usual. Hennel quirked a smile and stepped past her and into her chambers. 

She led him through the foyer and onto the balcony perpendicular to her living quarters. As they walked the short distance, neither spoke. Hennel admired the humble, unmatched furnishings that decorated the space. Simple wooden coffee tables, steel lamps, unadorned couches. He knew most of them well, as Dettella had explained each to him enthusiastically when she returned from her wanderings among the lower city.

The balcony itself was decorated in much the same fashion. The sturdy metal chairs had been made by a blacksmith in the lower eastern district, and the polished eddenwood table had been crafted in the same district, only a short walk from the blacksmith. This he remembered clearly, as he'd been with Dettella on the occasion she'd purchased them.

He sat down in the chair opposite her and clasped his hands in his lap. The chair's cushions were thin but comfortable enough, if not nearly as luxurious as most in the palace. Others might have complained, but Hennel appreciated the sentiment behind them. He smiled thoughtfully as he glanced at the light wooded tabletop. 

He reveled in the cool night air tickling his bare forearms, he was glad to be out of the stiff, formal coat. Looking out over the upper city, he saw the glowing light of lamps through windows, and the small shadowy forms of people walking about in the streets.

"I do love the view of the city at night, I think I will miss this." Dettella said, lips curved in a closemouthed smile. Hennel frowned and turned to her.

"What do you mean you will 'miss it'?" Hennel asked. "Are you leaving?"

Dettella faced him with grim look in her emerald eyes. "Yes, I must leave the city. Tenall will have me killed if I stay. I underestimated her, I did not think even she would do something so vile to take the seat." She said. "I will not make the same mistake twice."

"What do you mean? Why would she kill you now? Tenall already has the seat, she has no reason to kill you." Hennel asked perplexedly.

"I do not believe Tenall needs a reason to want to kill me, I have the feeling that she would do it for pleasure even, or perhaps she thinks I will get in the way of her plans somehow. I do not know for certain." She said, her eyes narrowed as she seemed to be thinking.

"Are you sure? I know she does not like either of us, but would she really try to have us killed?"

"After figuring out what I have now, I have the feeling she is very capable of doing it." Dettella said, raising her eyes to his. Hennel saw certainty in that gaze, despite her words.

"What exactly have you figured out? What vile thing did she do?" He asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

"Do you remember the priest that supposedly committed suicide a week ago?" When he nodded she continued, "he was dead before he hit the ground. There was bruising on his neck that was not caused by the fall."

Hennel's eyes widened at that. "But, how is Tenall involved in this? What makes you think she did it?"

"I have no proof, but I do not believe that he fell from his own balcony. I think that he fell from Tenall's previous chambers which happen to be in the same tower as his own, thirty floors above." She said.

"Okay, but why would she have reason to do that?" Hennel cut in.

"I was getting to that. She killed him because he made a concoction of sorts for her. One that if word had gotten out of, she would be dethroned, perhaps even hanged for. One that would increase her magical power."

Hennel gaped openly, his mind racing as he tried to recall any such potion. "How... Wait, does such a potion exist? I've never even heard a whisper of it, how do you know of it?"

"I learned of it from one of the books in the recesses of the palace library, one called The Life of a Crystal Mage. It is a collection of discoveries made by a woman called Endrell Hipenn, who spent much of her life researching the connections between magic and crystals. The discovery that is relevant to Tenall, is one that was only mentioned briefly toward the end of the book." Dettella said, pausing to look back over the city. "She describes a strange reaction from a rare crystal called a fluerenn, found somewhere in the eastern jungles.

"When she poured some of her magic into it, it liquified in her hands, becoming a viscous mass that was similarly hued to her power. She performed several experiments on it, but the most interesting result she found was that when she drank a small amount, she could feel power flowing back into her. Do you understand where I am going with this?" Dettella said.

"I-I think I do," Hennel answered. "Tenall had the priest somehow force a mage to imbue these fluerenn with their magic, and killed the man to keep him silent."

"Yes, and that is why her power increased so drastically. At this point, if she were to attack me with a complex enough severing, I would likely be unable to reverse it. But, I doubt she would kill me personally. Poison would be my first guess, but I will not stay long enough to find out. I will be out of Cresting by morning." She said, still looking over the gradually dimming glow of the city. Her expression seeming pensive.

"Then, I must come with you, to protect you." Hennel said immediately, beginning to rise. "I will go prepare, I can be ready to leave in the hour."

"No, you must stay Hennel. I already have excuses for my departure in place, if you came with me it would raise suspicion. Besides, I would like for you to keep an eye on Tenall in my stead. It should not prove too difficult considering your position." She finished.

Hennel felt like arguing, but he already saw that his joining her would do more to damage than protect. "Very well, sister, I will do as you wish. Will you at least tell me where you will go?"

Dettella seemed to be thinking for a moment before answering. "I have yet to decide, but my first thought is to visit the forest elves. I would like to learn more of their magic, books cannot replace firsthand experience." She said, taking on a familiar look. Hennel smiled as he watched her eyes glitter with curiosity.

Hennel stood, and rounded the table as she turned to him. She got up as well, and he embraced her, giving her a tight hug. As they separated he said, "promise me you will return eventually, it will be rather dreary here without you."

"I will, and I expect to find some nieces or nephews waiting for me, as well." She said.

He laughed. "Fare thee well in your journeys, Dettella." He bowed and said with mock formality. He left her smiling widely on that balcony.

—————

Thus ends Chapter 4. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. 

P.S. I post progress updates in my bio incase anyone is curious. 

P.P.S. I'm looking for an editor to help me out with my errors, I tend to miss them when I look for them myself. If you're interested shoot me an email, I would really appreciate the help!

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 05



Author's Note: 

This chapter of my story also contains no sex, and I don't anticipate there being any for a few more chapters still. I've considered many times just tossing some in, but I've grown to care too much for this story to ruin it with meaningless sex scenes. Do not fret however, it will happen eventually. I just want to wait for the right time. 

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

————— 

...Pain... 12... Pain... Queen... Pain... I want you to hold onto that for me, will you?... Pain... Hanged... Pain... Love... Pain... Loss... Pain... XII... Pain... Pain... Pain... Pain, pain, pain... Excruciating pain... Pain, pain, pain pain pain PAIN PAIN PAIN...! 

——— 

Sam's eyes shot open and he stifled a yell. 'W-What the hell was that...?' He thought, wiping the sweat from his brow. 'How long was I asleep?' He wondered as he sat up and looked out the darkened window hidden behind the shelves lining the wall. 

A thin quilt of red and green covered his body up to his stomach. 'Did she put this on me?' Seeing Theodore was covered by a similar quilt, he guessed it was indeed her who had covered him up. He brushed back the locks of wavy brown hair that had fallen over his forehead. Scratching at the beginnings of a scruffy beard, he swung his legs down from the raised bed. 

From a glance, Sam could tell Theodore's condition had definitely improved. His cheeks were flushed now, rather than the sickly pale they had been before, and his breathing was regular. The herbal tea that he'd seen Mother Ranlenn pour for him was now empty, and Sam wondered whether she had forced him to drink it somehow or if Theodore had woken up for a time. He supposed the latter might have been wishful thinking. 

'I wonder what time it is... I told Letta that I would check on her when I got the chance, maybe I should go now.' He thought. 'Maybe I can bathe too.' Looking down at his damp clothes he wished he could take a warm shower to help him forget his bizarre nightmare. Turning toward the door, he noticed that the boy who had been in there earlier in the day had disappeared. 

He raised his arms above his head and stretched, sighing as his back popped satisfyingly. His head bumped against the sword handle that jutted from behind him. 'I really need to remember to take that off before I go to sleep.' Sam shook his head and started for the door. As he stepped into what he guessed was the waiting room, a voice spoke. 

"Bout time yer wakin' up." She said. Sam jumped and his right hand had started to reach for his sword before he had to force himself to stop. In one of the light colored wooden chairs, sat the woman who had escorted them to Mother Ranlenn's when he arrived. She laughed. "Didn't mean to make ya jump, boy. Sorry bout it." 

"Ah, I. Er... No worries, I just had a bit of a nightmare, so I'm a little jumpy I guess." Sam managed to fumble out. During which, he was trying to place her accent. Her 'sorry' sounding more like 'seary' and she pronounced every 'T' like a 'D'. "Were you waiting here for me?" He asked, curious about her presence there. 

"Yes I were, in fact. Not often we see strangers running in from east, specially not carrying a no legged man and looking like he 'bout to die from tiredness." She said honestly. "And if dat weren't enough, he bring news of the frontline bein' broken. Quite the stir ya caused here, boy. Peaked my curiosity fer certain." 

"Oh." Sam said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. 'Did I tell Mother Ranlenn about that?' He wondered. "I'm afraid I don't have anything else exciting to tell you, unfortunately. Do you know where I could get some food? I don't really have any money or anything, but I'm sure I could pay you back some other way instead." 

"Bah, I don't need nothing from ya, I can fix ya up something myself. Come on over to my house, my daughters'll be right pleased to meet someone new." She said as she stood, beckoning him to follow her. "Come, come. It'll be mornin' soon enough, ya can eat breakfast with us." 

He followed her out onto the dark street. The crisp night air tickled his bare arms. He felt the hard, cobbled road beneath his feet. It felt cold through his dirt caked socks. The woman looked back to him and began walking. He took the chance to look around at the buildings that he'd been too preoccupied to care for earlier. Not one looked alike. Some had slatted wooden roofs, others had stone, some were even metal. Most were one story high, but two and even some three story buildings were peppered around the town. 

Most of the houses were shabby looking, their wooden walls infested with termites, or their paint cracked and faded. Houses made of brick or stone appeared occasionally as Sam followed the woman through alleys and across narrow streets. She walked with the confidence of someone who knew the area well. 

"I never got your name earlier, ma'am." Sam said as he hastened to catch up. "I'm Sam by the way. Oh, and thanks for helping me bring my friend to Mother Ranlenn earlier." 

"Me name is Dandeery." She replied after a moment. "But, ya can call me Dee. That's what most do." 

"Ah, then nice to meet you, Dee." Sam said, glad he was lucky enough to have found a kind person. He smiled lightly as he trailed close behind her. 

Finally, she stopped in front of a small house. Dim light peeked through the slats of blue painted wood, and he heard soft voices speaking inside. She opened the gate connected to the low fence around the house, and stepped in, holding it for him. He nodded his thanks as he strode past, into a small yard. Dark and light stepping stones paved a patterned path to the front door, and small plants and flowers dotted the yard. 

"Welcome to me home." She said with a broad smile, and led him to the door. As she pushed it open, the light spilled out and Sam had to squint while his eyes adjusted. The low chatter cut off as they walked in. 

"Lorry, Darlie, I brought back dat boy I was talkin' ta ya 'bout." Dandeery said. "He gonna eat breakfast with us and tell us stories about how he came ta be here." 

Sam stiffened and winced, at the last thing she mentioned. He wasn't a very good storyteller, nor did he think he had many he could tell. 'Shit. What can I tell them? Nothing of earth, that's for sure.' He thought nervously. 'I'll just say I'm from a faraway country or something I guess, and I can't mention Letta...' 

As he looked around the small room, he saw two young women sitting at a wide, oval table. The shabby, white painted armoire to the left of the table was open, revealing an aged looking clay dish set. A thin candle dripped wax onto the dark wood table that was warped and worn smooth with use. An odd looking painting was framed on the wall behind the women, the colors seeming to have been splashed together with abandon. 

The women were now looking at him with wide, yet drowsy looking eyes. Immediately, he noticed one of them was very beautiful. Her light auburn hair caught the lantern light and it shimmered slightly as she turned to them. Her eyes were a dark blueish green and her face appeared smooth and lean. Her white, cotton shirt was tight and showed ample cleavage. He thought she must be in her mid twenties. She smiled at him and he felt his cheeks warm suddenly. 

Sam fidgeted under her stare. Looking away, he noticed her sister sitting next to her. She was slightly plump, and her hair was a light brown color, similar to his own. Her dark brown eyes looked up at him and sparkled with intelligence. Her garb was noticeably finer. The silky, green dress loosely framed her form, silver scrolls lining it all the way to the top of the high neckline. She appeared to be a little younger than her sister, two years he would have guessed. Even with her chubby face, he thought she was quite pretty as well. 

"I, Um... Hi, I-I'm Sam." He stammered, his right hand reaching up to rub the back of his head he did a quick wave with his left. 

"Hello, I'm Lorry, and this is Darlie." The younger one said, gesturing to her sister. Sam's eyebrows rose as he noticed she didn't have the same odd accent as her mother. He thought she sounded really similar to Samson, vaguely similar to a British accent. 

"Hiya Sam, nice to meet ya!" Said the auburn haired Darlie, in a cheerful voice. She definitely had the odd accent. Sam wondered why Lorry didn't. 

"Please. Sit, sit." Dandeery said, pushing him to one of the open chairs. Before he could do anything, she already had pressed him into the chair across from the two women. "Food'll be ready 'fore ya know it." 

He wiggled uncomfortably, his sword's sheath was digging into his back. Reaching back with his left hand, he released the bind holding it there. He leaned it against the wall next to him, and looked up to the two women. Both had an eyebrow raised as they observed him. He recoiled slightly and laughed nervously. "It was a little uncomfortable..." He explained. 

"Mother, you didn't say he was a mage?" Lorry said, looking at Dandeery who was scampering around with various wrought iron cookware. She began starting a fire in the fireplace. The polished white stone stood out in the small kitchen area, reflecting the firelight off the glossy surface. 

Sam was taken aback that she had figured that out just by watching him remove his sword. "Cause I didn't know it." She replied absently. "I jus' brought em to Ranlenn's. He look like he an adventurer though, all tall an handsome. So, I bring him home fer you two." 

Sam flinched. The two women across from him were looking at him again. Lorry gave him a sympathetic smile and shrugged, and Darlie seemed to be scanning his body. His cheeks flushed under her piercing gaze. He felt like he was sitting there naked as her light eyes came to his face. Her smile was a touch predatory as she met his eyes. He fidgeted with his hands and tried to think of something to say. 

"I... I'm just a normal guy, nothing special really." He said anxiously. His right leg was jumping with nervous energy. 'I don't like this... Maybe I should've just stayed back with Theodore.' He thought. 

"You're too modest." Lorry said. "A male mage who carries a velta sword cannot be a mere normal man. You are a noble, yes?" 

Sam's eye twitched as she said the name of the metal. 'Goddamn, this woman is really perceptive. I think I need to be more cautious.' He thought, then spoke. "Ah, I'm not a noble. I'm dirt poor, really." He forced a laugh as he said it. 

"Hm, I see." Lorry replied. "Very interesting." 

'Crap. I probably should've said I was one.' He scolded himself, not showing any outward emotion. 

"Lorry's a mage too. She just come home from Stralden to visit. Ma an I are real piped for her!" Darlie said, sounding proud. "Lor, tell em about your academics and such." 

Lorry smiled at her sister, then turned to him. "I'm a bind mage as well. I've been a student at Estrill Women's College in Stralden for the last eight years. A scout found me here on the day after my twenty-fourth birthday." She said. "Currently, I am studying the connections between magic and animals, familiars in particular." 

As if on cue, a small creature walked in from the door that led to the back of the house. Sam jumped, but settled when he realized it was only a cat. It's beige fur stiffened at his sudden movement, and it looked to Lorry. It seemed to relax as she nodded to it. He noticed some faint patterns that crept along the top of its head, and saw a familiar intelligence in it's eyes. 

"Wow, eight years, huh?" Sam said absently, focusing on the cat. 

'Wait, eight years?! 24?! She's 32?! She looks like she's younger than I am!' He thought suddenly. 'Jesus. This whole not aging thing is gonna take time to get used to.' 

Not betraying his thoughts, Sam spoke again. "Sounds like an interesting topic to study, I don't know much about it personally. Is it difficult?" 

"Well, it is among the most complex uses for bind magic, but on smaller animals it is not too difficult for one above C class, with a little practice. Though, for those below C, it is near impossible for anything larger than a squirrel." 

Sam's eyes widened in surprise, but neither of the two women seemed to notice. "I see..." He muttered, his thoughts turning to Letta. 'I really should check on her when I'm done here.' 

Suddenly, the cat leapt onto the table and sat in front of Sam, staring at him intently. He blinked and leaned away from it. It's slitted silver eyes seemed to be seeing into him somehow. It was unnerving. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Lorry's brow furrow in thought. Darlie seemed to be confused as well. He tried to avert his gaze, but his eyes seemed to be drawn to the cat's. As he stared, he thought he could see faint glimpses of whitish-gray patterns in the darkness of the animal's pupils. 

Finally, the cat turned from him and looked to Lorry before hopping down from the table. It stalked silently out of the room. "He told me that he can feel an immense power in you, Sam." Lorry said, breaking the silence. 

"Eh?" Sam said, shaking his head as he broke from his daze. "He? The cat? How can he feel that?" 

Lorry nodded. "Animals seem to have a certain sense for magic that humans do not. I don't know if anyone has figured out why or how." She said. 

"Huh, that explains..." He said, then trailed off as he realized he was speaking aloud. He shook his head again. "Does he do that often? Tell you someone is powerful?" 

"No, this is the first time Neril has said anything like that in the three years since I bound him." She said, biting her thumb and looking down. Sam thought he might be able see her brain working if he looked hard enough. He rubbed his head, worried that Lorry would try to make him go to Stralden if she found out about his magic. 

Fortunately, Dandeery came to the table, carrying four plates on a wooden tray. By that point, Sam had almost forgotten why he'd been there in the first place. "Wow." He said, looking at the full plates of food, surprised at the array of colors. He'd been expecting bacon and eggs, something simple. "Thanks a lot, er... Dee. I haven't eaten anything the last few days." He said, almost absentmindedly as he looked at the food. 

He felt drool already filling his mouth as the smell wafted to him. 'How did she manage to make all this? Have I been here that long?' He thought. After she set down the tray, Dandeery went back to the small kitchen and returned with a steaming teapot and cups. 

"It's not a thing." She said with a wide grin, and he took it town mean it wasn't a problem. "Go on then, boy. Eat up! Don't sit er lookin' like a thirsty granul." 

He nodded and took the plate closest to him. He picked up the two pronged fork and began eating the food without a second glance. 'I got no idea what these berries are, but I could eat them for the rest of my life.' He thought as he wolfed down the small pink fruit. They were sweet with a touch of sour, tasting almost like strawberry and banana mixed, and they were gone in a matter of seconds. 

He noticed tea being poured into a cup next to his plate, but ignored it for the moment as he lost himself in the tender boiled meat. The meat was the only thing he recognized on the plate. He was almost certain it was beef, but there was something different that he couldn't identify. Before he knew it, he'd finished the assortment of colorful fruits and vegetables too, and looked up to see that the others were looking at him. 

He blushed and rubbed the back of his head, his embarrassment obvious. He laughed nervously. "I, uh... I did say I was hungry, didn't I?" He said. "Um... Can I have seconds?" 

Dandeery blinked. "Ya, course. Lemme get it." She said and stood, leaving her untouched plate. She took his and went back to the kitchen. By the time she returned, Sam had started telling the story of how he'd gotten to Eltinn. He left out anything he thought might be too strange, he did not want to be harried when he and Theodore needed to leave. 

He ate the second plate of food much more slowly, savoring the unique tastes, and sipping the bitter tea every once in a while as well. "Yeah, after the last winnem died a few miles out of town I had to carry him the rest of the way." He thought he told the story well enough, but Lorry still looked at him with a knowing smile. Sam was fairly certain the other two had believed it by their enamored expressions, fortunately. 

"I plan on leaving Eltinn as soon as I can though, I don't think I can get Theodore the necessary help here." He said. 

"Yer probably right bout that. Be best if you get em to someplace more fancy." Darlie said, leaning her elbows on the table. "Well, Ma an I need to get off to workin'." She finished, turning to Dandeery. 

Sam glanced out the small square window in the kitchen and saw orange light streaming through. 'Jeez, how long have I been here?' He wondered. "I should check on Theodore, perhaps I will see you again before we leave." He said, as all four of them stood up, grabbing his sword by the sheath, binding it to his back again. 

"Ah, well I can show you to Mother Ranlenn's, it would not do for you to get lost." Lorry said, her knowing smile returning as Sam tried to hurry out the door. He didn't feel like he could refuse. 

"Ya best be careful with the Mother, she's a sever mage ya know. Don't go gettin' on her bad side." Dandeery said, looking serious for the first time since he'd met her. Sam wondered what that was about, but he nodded anyways. She walked through the door into the house, after seeing his confirmation. 

As he began to follow Lorry out the door, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He turned to see Darlie pressed close to him. "It would be very... pleasing to see you again, Sam. Tonight, perhaps." She whispered into his ear, her voice soft like velvet and her accent remained only in traces. "Just the two of us..." To emphasize what she meant, she came closer and he felt her voluminous breasts pressed against his arm. 

His eyes felt like they were about to pop from his head as he looked down. Her slightly opened lips, wide gleaming eyes, and generous cleavage had him stammering. "I, I don't know... M-Maybe, if I have time." Her tongue darted out to lick her lips for second before she pulled away, smiling slightly. 

Sam barely kept himself from sprinting out the door as he turned away from her. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he let out his breath and his shoulders relaxed slightly. He jumped as Lorry spoke behind him. "She's always been like that around attractive men." She said, then added, "or boys..." 

Sam spun, trying to keep his face more calm than he felt. "I-I'm used to it." He lied, not realizing how arrogant it sounded until after it was out of his mouth. "I-I mean..." 

Lorry giggled. "You're used to it? Well you sure don't look like it with your cheeks all rosy like that. You're as innocent as a child." She said, sounding amused. "That's alright though, I think it's cute." 

He blushed even harder, if that was even possible. "Could," He sucked in a calming breath, "could you just take me back to Mother Ranlenn's?" He asked, wanting to be away from the sources of his embarrassment as soon as possible. 

Lorry crossed her arms. "Now, now. I don't want you to be sulky the entire time we're out shopping." She said, her lips pressed in a line. 

"Wait, what? What do you mean?" He said. 

"You heard me. I'm taking you shopping. Mother and Darlie won't let me take them no matter how much I try to, and I need someone to play dress up since Neril won't let me anymore." She said, speaking as if he had no choice. "I need someone to spoil with all the spare coin I have." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 05



"I can't go shopping! I need to get moving, I've already spent too much time fooling around." He said, his voice turning to a mumble toward the end. 

Lorry's cheeks puffed out and she stared daggers at him. "Humph. You can't go traveling without proper supplies, you'll starve before you get anywhere! I mean look at you, you don't even have shoes!" She said indignantly. 

Sam wanted to argue, but he knew that she was right. "Alright, I suppose I do need shoes at least." He grumbled. 

Lorry smiled. "Good, now let's go to the tailor first, then the cordwainer. Need to get you out of these rags." She said, tugging the T-shirt with a frown. Before he had the chance to ask what a cordwainer was, she had already grasped his hand and was pulling him down the cobbled street. 

Sam was surprised when he didn't feel her magic and he glanced down at her hand. 'Ah, that must be it...' He thought, looking at the green glove that covered halfway up her forearm. He began wondering if he should ask her if he could get some gloves too when he realized she had come to a stop. 

He looked up to see a two story brick building with a small sign that read tailor in a swirling cursive. Lorry was humming softly as she dragged him into the building before he could get a better look at it. 

"Lenwrie! I'm back, and I brought a new... friend!" Lorry shouted up the stairs that rose to the left of the small room. Sam could have sworn that she had been about to say pet rather than friend, but dismissed it as his imagination. 

The sound of rapid footsteps came from the upper floor, and then, a short, thin woman came stumbling down the stairs. Her short brown hair was messy with bedhead on one side, but her eyes were wide awake. "Lorry! It's been so long!" The woman said excitedly, jumping into a hug with Lorry. She started chattering to Lorry so fast that Sam couldn't understand anything but a word here and there due to the strong accent. Strangely, Lorry seemed to be speaking in the accent now too. 

Sam jumped as the two turned to him simultaneously. "Ooh, right good new... friend you've found." Lenwrie said, and this time Sam was certain he'd heard the hesitation. 'What have I gotten myself into...' He suppressed the urge to flee as the both looked him up and down. "Come, come. I'll get ya measured right and fix up whatever ya need." She said, grabbing his other hand and pulling him and Lorry into the back room. 

Before he could blink, he found himself stripped to his underwear with Lenwrie wrapping a cloth marked with lines around his chest and writing the measurement onto a piece of parchment. Lorry took turns between watching Lenwrie work and holding up different samples of cloth next to him, nodding occasionally, as if deciding which would look best. 

"So, which design were ya thinkin' of?" Lenwrie asked after finishing her measurements. She seemed to have been directing the question to Lorry, but Sam decided to answer it anyway. 

"I just want simple clothes for traveling. Kinda like what I'm already wearing, if possible. Maybe slightly more loosely fitting pants though, oh and pockets." He said, hurrying to pull his pants back on. Lorry puffed out her cheeks at him, looking upset that he'd answered. 

"Well, the blue does look nice, so make the ensemble coordinated around that. And, I suppose simplicity will have to do." Lorry pouted, crossing her arms. 'And she called me sulky...' Sam thought sourly. 

"Righto. Come on back round nighty-ish, should be done up by then. I need get my binder down here..." She said, trailing off as she started scribbling notes on the parchment. "I bet ya will be off to Credden's next? Yes, I thought so. Take some new socks with ya then, can't go wearing them ratty things around." She said, nodding to a basket of clean, paired black socks. 

"Ah yes, he did come running into town in those." Lorry said absently, pulling a brown leather purse from somewhere in the folds of her dress. It clicked as she popped open the silver clasp. Sam couldn't help but gape as she pulled out a faded gold coin, square shaped with rounded edges, and flung it to Lenwrie who caught it without looking. The purse was packed so full with the spectrum of coins, that they did not even clink as she hid it away again. "Pull your jaw closed, Sam. You look like the boy in the bathhouse! And pick out a few pairs already. We need to go on, we still have much to do, you know." 

Sam's teeth clicked as he shut his mouth. Lenwrie snickered as she glanced at him. He hurriedly grabbed a few bundles of socks that seemed the right size, and stumbled as Lorry ushered him out hastily, waving to Lenwrie. "I did tell you that I had coin to spare, did I not?" She asked. 

"Uh, yeah I suppose you did." He replied, scratching his head as they walked the dirty gray and brown stone road. "I didn't know what to expect though really... That was gold right?" 

"Yes, it was." She answered simply, then her tone turned slightly defensive. "I have much of my coin in Stralden, only a small amount is with me, and none of my platinum. I usually use a silver square for these sorts of things, but Lenwrie is an old friend from childhood." 

Sam didn't know how he should respond. It seemed like she was confused about whether he was amazed or disappointed somehow, though he could not tell why she would think that. 'Jesus Christ, She's seriously loaded...' He thought, wondering what he'd have done if he had all that money back in his world. His mouth seemed a bit dry all of a sudden. 'Maybe... Maybe it would be possible to convince her to come with Theodore and I... Gah, what am I thinking! I shouldn't try to take advantage of her more than I already am.' 

"I don't think I've ever seen that much gold before, or silver for that matter." He admitted honestly. "You must be quite good at your magic to be so rich." 

She looked surprised at his words, then glanced up at him suspiciously. When she saw that he wasn't being sarcastic, he caught a faint flush of pink to her cheeks and a small smile before she could turn away. "Well, I'm not that wealthy... Well, not compared to most of the high nobles of Stralden." She said coyly. "But, I suppose I've done well for myself considering my background..." 

"Yeah, I'd say so!" He said. "What's your job, something with familiars?" 

"Yes, for the most part I bond non-bind mage people with familiars, since they cannot do it themselves. The sever mage nobles are my most frequent customers, though occasionally I get another weaker bind mage or a mundane person." She explained. "Sometimes I do other work as well, but familiars are by far my most lucrative line of work." 

"Huh, sounds interesting..." He said. 'I wonder if she can tell me why Letta has been acting so strangely...' Sam sighed and brushed his hair back. His eyes were trained on the ground. 'I'm worried about her. I hope she can get over this.' He looked up to see Lorry looking at him questioningly. "Ah, sorry. Just thinking about some things. After we see this, er, cordwainer person, I need to check up on my friend. Along with a few other things besides." 

"You know you can't escape from me so easily." Lorry said, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him sternly. "I'll be able to find you. I grew up here ya know." 

Sam sighed again and shook his head. "I'm not trying to get away from you. I really do need to check up on some things. My friend is in critical condition, I have to make sure he's alright." 

"Okay, I suppose I will allow you to take some time to do what you need, but I will come with you." She said, letting her arms fall. 

'Damn, it'll be difficult if she sees Letta. I'll need to convince her to wait while I go somehow, or give her the slip if necessary...' He thought with a frown. "Fine." 

He suddenly noticed that she was no longer walking next to him. When he turned, she had stopped in front of a small wood house, not much bigger than Dandeery's. It's roof sagged precariously, and the walls looked to be ready to crumble to dust at any moment. The small holes covering the wood gave it a porous appearance. The open front allowed them to see inside where a thin man was mending a worn shoe. 

"Hello Credden, I need to purchase some new boots for this boy. He ruined his previous ones." Lorry said, glancing at Sam with a firm look. 

'What the hell is she looking at me like that for? It was an accident! And why is she treating me like a child?!' Sam thought and muttered under his breath as he glowered at her. 

"Come here Sam. He cannot check your size when you are standing way over there." Sam was tempted to just walk away, but he really did need some new shoes. 

He looked at Credden who had looked up from his work. His sturdy face was lined with age and he had a fatherly look about him. His clean cut black hair was flecked with silver. The man shrugged at him as if to say 'What are ya gonna do' and Sam chuckled softly. He walked over and sat down on the low wooden stool next to Credden. 

"What're ye searching for, lad? Something for work it all?" Credden asked in an accent clearly not from Eltinn. Ignoring Lorry's attempts to speak for Sam, he gestured to the walls that were covered with seemingly hundreds of different shoes and boots. 

Sam wasn't certain what he meant by that, so he just answered the first question. "I just need something that I can travel in, tough but still comfortable. If that's possible." 

"Certainly, I have some o' that type you can test out 'ere." He replied, and set down the shoe in his hands. He stood and grabbed a couple pairs of boots seemingly without looking and set them at Sam's feet. "Let me know which ye think is yer fit." 

He handed Sam the first pair of brown leather boots, and he began to try them on. 

——— 

Dettella smoothed out her pale violet silk dress. Her hands trembled slightly, and she thought she might be able to hear her heart beating in her ears. Outside her carriage, she heard the winnem squawking anxiously. She couldn't blame them, not right after the attack. 'I-It seems that Tenall has received word of my departure...' She thought, her suspicions having been confirmed. 

"Wh-What reason could they possibly have for attempting to mu-mur-murder you, milady? I'm sure they must have been b-brigands, not assa... assassins!" Her handmaiden Yalene said, her voice quavering. No matter how shaken she must have been, Yalene was many times worse. She clutched Dettella's hands and looked to her for assurance. 

Dettella could feel the jerky tremors of the girl's hands. 'It has been quite a while since I was so shaken, but I must not let her worry herself to death.' She forced her composure back to steadiness. "Of course. I was only considering the possibility, but doubtless it must have been the rogues we've heard of around here. The guards should have no more difficulty now that they will not be surprised." She said, but she knew that the group were far too well equipped to be mere brigands. 

'She must have panicked to send someone so recklessly. Perhaps it was not so wise to taunt her so, by saying I was leaving for a time to research crystals in the east...' Dettella thought, and smiled down at Yalene, giving no sign of her own inner fears. Yalene's wide, trusting, amber eyes were glistening, on the verge of tears. 'I should have taken one of the elder handmaidens. She is still so young, and I was too selfish. She should not have to face this danger for my sake.' Dettella regretfully admitted. 

She pulled Yalene up and drew her into her soft bosom, and stroked her red hair gently. "Once we cross Crestell's boundaries into the tundra we shan't be bothered by thieves." She said softly and kissed the top of the girl's head. When she finally released her, Yalene was not shaking nearly as much and she looked grateful, if a bit flushed. Dettella supposed that Yalene felt she shouldn't be so familiar with her mistress. 

Dettella slid back the curtain covering the carriage window and watched the guards who rode in formation around them, their large, armored winnem chirping occasionally. Six of her purple clad guard that remained after the attack were glaring out over the fields with eyes like hawks. The seventh rode at the center, a few feet from the gilded wagon. 

Darrel glanced at her as she opened the curtain, his steel gray eyes were harder than any man's she'd seen before. His gaze turned away after a brief nod at her and returned to the road. Darrel was very handsome for his age, at least in her opinion, but he had little to no personality that she could see. His face seemed to have been chiseled from stone, and his expression never changed. She wondered what he had been like as a child, before he had become one of captains of the high guard. 

Dettella had not expected him of all people to be waiting among the guardians who accompanied her. She suspected that her brother had asked him personally to join them. Hennel was one of few people that Darrel seemed to respect, and certainly the only noble. At first she had been frustrated with Hennel for doing it, but after he had singlehandedly killed nine men in defense of the carriage, she'd relented. 

'I really should learn some self defense,' she thought, then sighed, 'If only I could learn that from books, then I certainly would not procrastinate so. Perhaps the elves can teach me something beyond the spear and swordplay that the guards know. I cannot trot about wearing something so unwieldy.' 

Dettella franticly looked away, realizing she'd been staring at Darrel. Despite herself, she felt a faint burning in her cheeks. She pulled closed the curtains and was thankful that Yalene had not been watching. 'Why am I blushing like a girl caught watching the young men sparring?! I am a woman, and if I find a man attractive I should not be embarrassed by it.' She thought bitterly. 'If only I were as unflappable as everyone seems to believe.' 

The truth was, Dettella had been sheltered for close to the entirety of her 25 years and still had the tenderness of a young maiden, in spite of all of her training for court. Only two years ago, she had not even seen the city outside the castle walls. 'No matter. I am out in the world now, and I will need to harden. Else I will be crushed by the walls closing in on me.' She thought, her expression becoming grim. 

"Wh-What is wrong milady? You seem angry." Yalene said suddenly, and when Dettella looked at her sharply she flinched back. 

"My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you. I was only thinking of the situation of the war at the moment." She said, wishing she did not need to lie. 

"Ah yes, I heard it is going very well! They were stupid to try to force their foolish ideas on us!" Yalene said enthusiastically. "Slaves are slaves. The females are just as inferior as the males are." 

Dettella smiled, but inside she was not so sure about it. She thought neither kingdom was in the right. As much as she had loved her mother, she could not agree with those laws. With Tenall as queen now, she doubted it would change in her lifetime, unfortunately. The queen of Stralda, who likely sat at her throne in Stralden at that very moment, would likely not change her ways anytime soon either. 

She took a deep breath and decided to try to relax herself, they still had quite a long way to travel until they reached the edge of the Leddin forest. 

——— 

Half an hour after meeting Credden, Sam and Lorry were on their way to Mother Ranlenn's. He was already appreciating the comfort his new boots offered, no longer feeling every shard of glass and sharp pebble on the cobblestones underfoot. It would take a little while to get used to the new dark gray pair, he still hadn't gotten used to his last pair when they were eaten. 

'I think Lorry might be mad at me for some reason... She's so demanding.' He thought as he glance at her from the corner of his eye. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, and she wore a frown on her slightly chubby face. He chuckled softly, he couldn't take her anger seriously when she puffed out her cheeks like that. 

As soon as he laughed, she rounded on him. "Sam, I am the one paying for you, I deserve to pick out what I want you to wear!" She said. 

Sam sighed in frustration, "I don't really give a shit what you want me to wear, I'm leaving today, and I need clothes that will last a while. Besides, why does it even matter to you? I'm going to be gone!" He said, and as he saw her expression change he instantly regretted it. Lorry raised an open hand. 

Sam saw his stepmother there, and he staggered back. He raised his arms to block his face as he stumbled and fell to the ground. "I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. P-Please, Britney, please! I really didn't mean it, I won't do it again!" He cried, as he tried to push away. He felt the pounding pain of each bruise on his body. Tears streamed down his face and stung as they seeped into the broken skin on his cheeks. 

He curled up against the side of his bed, hoping she believed him. She did not. He whimpered as the flat of the pan came down against slap his side. 'Daddy, why did you leave me?! Please come back!' He wished desperately. The pan came down again crack against his ribs and he felt something break. His mouth was wide in a silent scream. 

"I-I didn't, didn't know," thump, "know that they were for the party!" He stammered between sobs. "I'll, I'll make new brownies, and a cake too! I p-promise..." He wept. 'Why won't she believe me?' He asked himself. 'Dad why did you have to die?!' 

Finally, the blows ceased. Sam laid there crying softly long after she slammed his door shut. He crawled with agonizing slowness to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Reaching inside, he felt around under the top. He felt the tape and pulled out what he'd hidden there. Clutching the ring tightly, he wondered if maybe he deserved his punishments... 

"Sam?! Sam I'm sorry, I wasn't really going to hit you... Please forgive me, I was wrong." The woman had wet lines on her face. "Please don't cry... I won't make you wear what I want you to. Just, please forgive me." She said despairingly. 

'Wh-Where am I?' He wondered, as he saw the woman crouched down next to him. His vision was blurry, why was it blurry? 'How did I get here?' He saw another woman looking at him from her door, and a man who had stopped in the street, carrying a woven basket. "What happened? Who are you?" He asked. 

"Huh? I-I'm Lorry, remember? I've been with you all morning," she said, "I've been buying you clothes." Sam dug in his memory, and suddenly it all poured back in. He scampered away from her, pushing against the cobblestones with his feet. 

His eyes were wide and he felt panicked. 'I need to run away. I need to get to Theodore and run away. We can escape, we can get to Letta, she'll protect me.' He thought panic-stricken as Lorry set into another bout of sobs. 

"I'm sorry Sam. Please, don't be 'fraid of me. It was wrong for me to even think of hittin' ya. I swear I won't do it again!" Lorry's accent returned as she cried into her hands. Sam didn't know what to do, what if she was lying? What if she was just saying that so he would trust her again? She would probably just try to hit him again. 

'No, no, I should give her a second chance. I need to calm down, think rationally, not emotionally.' He thought, holding his head as he tried to stop himself from running away. 'It's not like I can escape anyway, dad would want me to stay with Britney for him. She told me he said that before he died. No! I'm not at home. I'm fine. She isn't here, this is Lorry, not Britney. Get ahold of yourself Sam, you're fine, stop thinking about it!' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 05



"I-I'm okay, I-I for... I f-forgive you." He managed to say, barely. "It, it's my fault, I said something out of line, I deserved it." 

Lorry raised her head and looked pained as she wiped her tears. "No Sam, it wasn't your fault, you shouldn't say that. You were right before. You don't deserve to be hit, I was wrong." 

Sam brushed the tears from his eyes, 'Y-Yes, that's right. I did nothing wrong. Calm down. I don't deserve to be hurt... I have things to do, I can't have a breakdown now.' He tried to force his breathing to settle. 'What was it that book said? Breath with my diaphragm, relax my tense muscles? I think that was it...' 

He breathed slowly and deeply, then gradually released his clenched hands and jaw. 'I'm not in danger right now, it's just a panic attack. There is no need to worry. Lorry is nice enough, she is helping me. She just reacted instinctively, and she won't do it again... My stepmom is the one who hurts me, not her. Britney can't get to me anymore...' He wiped the sweat from his forehead with shaking hands. 

"I-I'm okay now, I think. I just need a minute to gather myself." Sam said and forced a small smile. He brushed back his hair and pushed himself up onto his knees. "That happens to me sometimes, I'll be alright." 

Lorry looked like she wanted to hug him, but held herself back. "I-I am very sorry Sam, I wasn't thinking and I let my frustration get the better of me. I think I have become too used to having others do as I wish." Her golden brown eyes still shimmered with tears. "I have learned an important lesson here, but you should not have had to suffer for it. Please do not think too badly of me." 

Sam looked down and rubbed the back of his head. "I forgive you Miss Lorry." He said, and made sure not to blame himself this time. "I won't think badly of you. I know you probably didn't mean it. Just... just don't do it again." He thought he felt decidedly better after saying that. 

"I, er... can we... can I..." Lorry stammered. "Can I give you a hug?" She finally managed to say, looking slightly embarrassed about it. 

"Um, yeah, I think that would be alright..." Sam said, rubbing the back of his head more furiously. Truth be told, he didn't want her to touch him. Lorry's eyes seemed to light up and she quickly embraced him tightly. "Oof..." He grunted as she ran into him. He held back the anxiety that threatened to take over again. 

For a moment he just stood there awkwardly, then he hugged her back. "Thank you for forgiving me Sam." She mumbled, her face buried in his chest. She seemed to be sobbing again. 'She's crying more than I was...' He thought wryly and chuckled softly. 

"I... I think we should get going now." He said, realizing the people were still standing there watching them. His cheeks felt hot. 

"Ah, right. You need to check on your friend." She said, sniffling and drying her eyes. As she glanced around she saw the people looking at them curiously and her cheeks reddened. "Get on 'bout your own business, why're ya standing there staring at us?!" She berated them, her hands planted on her hips. She muttered something under her breath and harrumphed loudly as they scurried away. 

When they finally reached Mother Ranlenn's, it seemed she was out running errands. Theodore was still asleep when Sam checked on him, and he decided to find Letta while he waited for Mother Ranlenn to return. He considered trying to sneak out a back way to avoid Lorry in the waiting room, but he needed to find out which direction it was to the lake. 

"I need to check on something else, can you tell me which way the lake is?" He asked. 

"The lake? What do you need to check on there?" She said, frowning slightly. 

"I... That's where my, uh, mode of transportation is at. I need to make sure it's doing alright." He said, hoping she wouldn't ask more. 

"Okay..." She said, frowning even deeper. "I can bring you to it, I suppose." 

"Uh, well could you just point me to it?" Sam asked, noticing her odd look he made up another excuse. "I, er... I just need some time to myself. I'll come back once I'm done." He said. 

"Alright... I will show you where to go." She said with a touch of hesitation. Sam followed her as she pulled him out of the building and explained in great detail how to reach the lake. He thought she was being a bit excessive with all the unnecessary twists and turns. 'Is she trying to send me on a wild goose chase? I thought she didn't want me to go, so what's with all this?' 

He realized he'd been tuning her out and hurriedly said yes as she asked him if he'd understood her instructions. Lorry pursed her lips and Sam thought she was about to go over it again, but she eventually nodded. Sam gave a small wave as he hastened into the alley between Mother Ranlenn's and the house next to it. 

"Christ, that took forever... Well, at least she didn't insist on escorting me, I suppose." He mumbled as he began jogging, getting as much distance from Lorry as he could. Despite all his words of forgiveness, he was starting to feel a bit resentful towards her, if slight in comparison to his stepmother. 'Why would she just hit me like that, could it be part of the whole female mages being prejudiced that Samson mentioned?' 

Sam just shook his head, he still did not understand completely the things that Samson had told him. 'Why would you hit someone over something so trivial anyways?' He thought, and shuddered as he remembered all the illogical reasons Britney had given for his 'punishments'. He told himself he wouldn't have to worry about it much longer. He, Theodore, and Letta would be out of Eltinn by the end of the day. 

He kept his course as straight as he could through the narrow alleys between houses. At one point he saw an immense manor bordered by tall hedges, down a wide street and he found himself curious about what it would be like meeting a lord or lady. He wondered if their garb would be more, or less opulent than Lorry's silk dress. 

As he was lost in thought, he felt a tingle in his neck. It felt like he had a dozen eyes on him all of a sudden. He spun, scanning the windows, and the piles of detritus and rubbish in the alley, searching for the watchers. Just as sudden as it had appeared, the feeling was gone. The only sign of life in the area was a small gray and brown cat which whipped it's tail furiously, apparently he had disturbed it. 

He let out the breath he hadn't know he was holding and turned back to run again. Weaving through the alleys, he didn't see many people. And, when he did, they were often just rounding a corner as he looked. A few times he thought he saw the same red silk clothed woman on different streets, but he never caught more than a glimpse of her. He chalked it up to similar clothing. 

He tripped a few times as he ran, grumbling under his breath about new boots. Oddly, the buildings and houses seemed to be becoming more dilapidated the closer he got to the lake. The small huts were often caved in or roofless, with moldy wooden walls bending inward, looking as if the lightest touch would collapse them. The people he saw looked more ragged, their clothes torn and caked with dried mud. Their heads were downcast, and their eyes had a weariness that sleep would not cure. 

On one street, there was a young girl sitting in the road, weeping over a loaf of bread dropped into the wet sewage drain. Her reddish blonde hair matted down with muck. Tattered rags hung on her too thin frame. He ran past, regretting that he didn't have anything he could spare for her. 'It can't be much further to the lake, right?' He thought, hoping this was the worst he would see. 

Suddenly, he felt the eyes again as he entered another filthy alleyway. He spun, his breath catching with his fear. Sighing, he relaxed as he saw it was just another stray cat, dark brown fur shifting in the light breeze. It stared at him, looking confused, and Sam laughed with relief. The cat flicked it's tail as it continued to stare. 

Sam scratched his head, 'That's odd, I wonder if this one isn't a stray. It's fur is too clean for that.' He frowned as he saw there was an odd pattern on it's head, the same one he'd seen on the cat from before. 'A familiar? Is Lorry trying to spy on me? No, this pattern looks too different from the one on Neril's head...' 

Again, he felt the eyes on his back. Sam shuddered, turning to see another cat at the other end of the alley. It was the one from earlier. He felt both of their unnerving gazes on him, and several more. His fear returned with a vengeance and he franticly ran past the cat, careful to give it a wide berth. As soon as he was past he broke into a sprint, heading toward the lake with a renewed vigor. 

He didn't even bother to apologize as he shoved past a woman stumbling in the street drunkenly. The cobbled roads turned to dirt as he ran. 'I have to be close now. Once I reach Letta it'll be fine,' he told himself. Recklessly stumbling through the ruinous shacks and hovels, Sam felt the eyes follow him. 

Abruptly, he found himself slipping on the putrefying corpse of what appeared to have been a dog at one point. The sickly-sweet smell of rot molested his nostrils as he crashed into the half deteriorated wall of an abandoned house. It caved in with an explosion of dust and moldy debris. Sam coughed and retched, his body having a hard time deciding which to do. 

Staggering to his feet, he pulled up his shirt to cover his mouth and nose. 'The eyes... The eyes. They're catching up to me! I need to get away! I need to escape!' His mind hazed with panic, Sam scampered out of the wreckage and started running again. He blinked away tears that formed, trying to clear the dust from his eyes. He thought he could hear footsteps behind him. 

He clumsily came to a stop, as he realized he was in a clearing. With his vision blurred, Sam couldn't see much more than the crumbled remains of a fountain in the square. The ground looked like it had been paved with stones at one point, but it had been covered with a layer of dirt, only occasionally showing a round rock on the surface. He listened closely for a moment. There were definitely footsteps following him. 

'Maybe it's just a coincidence... No, those cats mean it can't be one,' he thought. 'Who could it be, though? They have to be mages, but why are they chasing me? I shouldn't take any chances, I need to reach Letta.' Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows of the alley parallel the one he'd come from. 

It was the woman. The woman he'd caught glimpses of before. Sam took a step back warily. She wore a red mask with metal bars over the face of it, concealing all but her mouth and eyes. The mouth was shaped in a menacing smile, the shape visible beneath the shafts of dull gray. Her bright red robe swayed loosely as she strode lithely into the square. Under the prison of a mask, Sam saw a thin lipped smile. 

In her right hand, the woman held an odd looking silver sphere. There appeared to be a glowing red circle on the side facing him. As he stared curiously, the woman pocketed the strange item in her layered robe. When her hand returned, it held a long black dagger. Sam scrambled back in shock, "Wh-What are you doing?!" 

The woman's smile widened, and her long blonde braid whipped as she shook her head. She continued toward him, spinning the curved blade deftly between her fingers. He began to turn to run, when he felt pain rip into his left side. His immediate thought was that he was having another panic attack, but he was too aware for it to be that. 

"They never understand, do they sister?" The woman said wryly. Sam turned his head and saw another woman behind him, her face covered by the same red mask. The tip of a black blade suddenly jutted from his abdomen, a thin film of blood coating it. The pain made him want to howl, but he was too shocked to get out anything beyond a grunt. 

"No, they do not." The other woman replied stiffly. She pulled the knife out with a flourish. 

"Wh-Why?" Sam asked, his voice rasping. In his surprise, he forgot his magic. He stumbled away from the two women who now seemed to loom over him despite the significant height difference. He held his side, trying to staunch the incessant flow of blood. 

"Why? Because you upset the balance," the first woman said, "We can't have men running about with such power, it is too dangerous." 

Sam tried to make sense of her words, but she might as well have been speaking gibberish. He turned again in the direction of the lake preparing to run, when he saw the faint glowing yellow patterns. The blonde haired woman continued to flick and twirl her knife absently as she stepped forward and the looping patterns of magic seemed to shift with her. 

'Magic... That's right, I have magic...' He thought, and desperately tried to reach it. It didn't come. He could feel it distantly in his mind, like it was just beyond reach. The pain was so overwhelming. 'Why isn't it coming?! This can't happen now! I've accessed it with more pain than this, haven't I?' His mind seemed to be whirling too quickly. Those eyes were on him still, and he felt so vulnerable under their gaze. 

'M-My sword...' He raised his hand to the hilt. Like a snake, the blonde haired woman's arm whipped forward with surprising speed. The knife buried itself in his wrist, and this time he did howl. His hand fell and he saw the gruesome wound where the blade struck through his bone. His trembling legs buckled under him. 

Sam had to fight the urge to remove the source of the pain. He couldn't do it, not when he couldn't access his magic. His voice was ragged when he spoke again, "Wh-Who...? Why...?" 

"Who are we? You are more a fool than most men." She said, her contempt seeming to permeate through every word. "We are the bane of the vileness you men spread with abandon. They cannot be trusted with so much magic, thus you must be culled." 

"Sister, we are wasting time, we mustn't dawdle when we have more to accomplish. Get it over with. The concoction doesn't seem to be working." The other woman said, fingering the coat of blood that still glistened on her knife. Her dirty blonde hair was plaited in the same braid as the woman next to her. 

"Oh, a little fun shan't hurt. You are so priggish. The result is the same, why not enjoy it?" 

"Very well, I shall do it." The woman replied curtly, and stepped toward Sam. Before he could react, he felt the cold metal pressed against his neck. "You have permission to say one thing before you die, make it quick." 

Sam's throat worked, but before he could speak the blade slid into his neck, like slicing through warm butter. Crimson sprayed out from the slit. His throat gurgled as he tried to breathe through the blood pouring into his lungs. 'I'm going to die here.' He thought resignedly, and he felt calm. Too calm, considering how panicked he had been a moment before. 

Distantly, he heard the women speaking again. "Ha! I knew you enjoy it, despite that facade of efficiency. I thought you were going to let him speak for a moment there." 

As consciousness began to slip away, Sam realized that his magic wasn't so distant anymore. In fact, it was as though it was only a hair's breadth away. Absently, he felt himself connect to that abyss of swirling, golden power, like touching a pool of water with one finger. In an instant, he felt the magic suffuse his body, ripping his mind from it's stupefaction. 

The blood that had soaked his clothes and pooled around him began to stream back into his open wounds, creating a web of crimson around him. The blade seemed to eject from his wrist, and he felt the bones clasping together like magnets. Forms of coruscating silvery gold writhed everywhere on his skin. It almost appeared to be a solid light emanating from him, they were burning furiously. 

The two women were stunned into silence. They only stared at him with eyes so wide they seemed on the verge of bursting. Sam basked in the glorious power that flooded him. He didn't even care once the wounds were healed, he just wanted to let that ecstasy take over. He felt so alive. 

The blonde haired woman was the first to break from her stupor, and she pulled another knife out of the wide sleeve of her robe. Sam thought he might have seen a slight tremor in her hand before she slung the blade at his chest. It sunk into his heart with the painful sense of being sat on by an elephant. It shot out just as quickly, leaving nothing but a hole in his shirt. He almost jumped in surprise when the knife clattered against the ground. 

He reluctantly released his grasp on his magic before it began to take him again. The other woman shook her head and her eyes seemed to become much more alert. "Alyenda, we need to flee! This one is more than we can face alone, we must go!" She said, frantically tugging on the other woman's shoulder. 

The woman named Alyenda responded by pulling out two more knives. Her eyes were harder now, the mocking look receding to be replaced by determination. When she spoke, it was just louder than a whisper, "You may go if you fear so, but I will not abandon my duty." 

Sam unsheathed his sword with a soft grinding sound as she stepped forward, brandishing the knives. The other woman just continued gaping at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to speak. Sam felt awkward holding the sword for some reason. So different from the previous times he held it, but he couldn't pick out why. 

Before he had the chance to blink, Alyenda lunged. By the time he managed to move, she was already inside his range. He felt a flurry of sharp pains as she stabbed him rapidly, dodging away as his sword came down clumsily. The impact sent sparks up as it clanged against a uncovered stone. 

He instantly embraced his magic again and stepped back warily. The forms were more settled now, not giving off the same bright light. His feet felt like they were made of lead in that moment as she lunged forward again, striking too quick for him to keep up. He grunted with each blow, and let go of his sword with his right hand. As quickly as they were made, the wounds were repaired, but the pain stuck with him every time. 

Sam couldn't move his legs by the time her gleaming red blade darted for his eye. He screamed as the blade pierced his eyelid, skewering his eye. In a fraction of a second it would penetrate his brain. He tried to will his arm to move faster, and it seemed to work, if only by a little. The impact of his fist on her shoulder stopped the blade where it was. He felt his knuckles snap and mend in a fraction of a second. Alyenda was sent spinning as she fell backward, she groaned loudly. 

Sam cried out as he slowly pulled the knife free from his eye. He was blind for a moment, then it healed and he sighed with relief. "Help me, Deanne!" Alyenda said sharply, and the other woman flinched. She stood she clutched her limp arm, gritting her teeth against the pain. "It still isn't working for some reason." 

While he still had the small advantage, Sam struck. The lightweight sword whipped in the air, heading straight for Alyenda's neck. Sam gasped as she easily deflected his strike with her knife, then countered when he was thrown off balance. The blade sunk into his stomach and pulled away as she jumped back to dodge his sword. The tip of the blade clinked softly as it grazed the cage of her mask. 

'Why do I feel so sluggish? It's like I'm trying to swing through water,' Sam thought calmly, his mind somewhat cleared by the magic. 'I need to escape. I can't fight one of them like this, let alone both. I think she was aiming for my brain. It would be foolish to assume I could walk away undamaged from that, if I could walk at all.' He began to shuffle backwards, holding his sword toward them threateningly. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 05



Alyenda grunted as her shoulder popped back into place. She rolled her arm back and forth as she looked to Deanne who was now pulling a short sword from a scabbard strapped to her leg. Sam felt a little lightheaded and he tried to shake it off. Both of them jumped forward as he turned to run. He felt excruciating pain rip through both legs as two knives found their mark in the backs of his thighs. 

He fell forward with a yelp and his own sword bit into his left wrist. It dangled limply for a moment, dripping blood, before his magic repaired it. The pain in his legs receded, and he stood up quickly as he heard the clatter of the knives on the ground. As soon as he began to run again he felt more pain as Deanne pierced his back with her sword, driving the tip all the way past his sternum. 

Even through the clarity the that the magic afforded him, he felt panic. 'I really am going to die! But I can't. If I die Theodore won't reach the elves, and Letta will die too!' Sam forced his arms to move as he lost control of his lower body. He flailed wildly with his sword, hoping to score a lucky hit, but he felt nothing but air. He began to sob, wishing he could scream as the sword tore further into him. 

'Theo! Letta! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to die...' He thought as delirium set in. His arms felt so heavy, he just wanted to fall asleep. The pain seemed to drift away, and he stopped trying to fight back. It was no use. 'I never do anything right... Everyone I love ends up dying, and I can't... I can't do anything... anything...' 

His face smashed into the ground as the woman let go of the sword in his back. He barely even noticed as his nose was broken. The pain was minuscule by comparison. He just lay there, unmoving beyond the shaking as he cried in despair. 

——— 

Letta bolted up, ignoring the burning pain in her paws. 'He needs me.' She didn't know how she knew, she just did. She vaguely remembered that feeling. It had happened a few times when she was bonded to Everen. How... nostalgic that feeling was. 

Letta leapt forward, splashing through the shallow waters of the lake. The bristled cattails and the massive, yellow wind lilies were crushed under her massive paws. Normally, Letta relished in the feeling of the wind through her thick fur, but right now it was the furthest thing from her mind. Her master needed her. 

She knew which way to go, but just like she knew he needed her, she hadn't the slightest idea how. The town of Eltinn sprawled out over the land on the south side of the lake, the streets and buildings arrayed with no apparent structure. She was not fond of that design. Any proper city was planned and organized precisely... At least, that's how she thought it should be. 

She crashed through the first of the houses as she reached the edge of town, not caring a whit. The fragile wood structures exploded into dust and debris as she sprinted as fast as she could. Her powerful stride was hardly impeded by the fiery pain spreading from her wounded paws. Pain did not matter when her Sam was in danger. 

Screams of terror spread from everywhere around her, and people scrambled away from her. The smell of fear permeated the air. A fleeing woman was crushed underneath her step, but she did not notice. Ahead was a small circular clearing in the sea of dilapidated huts. He was there. 

She jumped as hard as she could. 40 feet in the air, Letta saw the entire square. Three people. Sam was lying face down with a sword in his back, and two women stood over him. The darker haired one bent down and grabbed his shoulder, and turned him onto his back. They both held black knives, and held them like they knew how to use them. It would not matter. 

Letta's forepaws crashed into the fountain at the center of the square, the dirty white stone flew in all directions as she skidded to a halt. Her ears pressed back and her tail bristled in anticipation. Teeth bared, she let out a rumbling snarl as the two women jumped back in astonishment. 

She recognized the masks they wore. The caged masks of the Anged'der, the supposed "guardians of peace". They believed that men could not be trusted with magic, that they would abuse their power. Hypocrisy on a high level. Everen once had a friend among their rank, though Letta had never understood why she even tolerated her. But all that did not matter now, her Sam was close to death. 

The lighter haired woman gave off the scent of fear, but it was quickly dampened by rage. The darker haired woman reeked of terror, and of urine. She had let go of her blade and was quivering where she stood, on the verge of passing out. Sam smelt of shame and sorrow, such deep, deep sorrow. Letta thought she would weep if she could have. 

The darker haired woman turned and ran into the nearest alley, holding up her long robe with trembling fists. The other immediately bent down, and wheeled her arm back. The black blade glittered in the mid afternoon sun. Letta sprang forward. The woman flung a blade at her, and it hit her in the naked flesh of her left foreleg. 

Her other hand drove downward, headed straight for Sam's heavy lidded eye. Time seemed to slow as Letta's jaw opened wide, baring her razor sharp white teeth. The pitch black knife was only one foot from Sam's head now. It inched closer and closer. As she watched, the blade touched his closing eyelid. 

Letta's jaw snapped shut with a loud crack that everyone in the town must have heard. The sweet taste of blood oozed into her mouth as her momentum smashed her through the nearest house before she could stop herself. The woman's legs stuck out from her mouth, twitching for a moment before Letta swallowed her whole. 

She was afraid of what she might see as she turned. Sam's eye was left unblemished, and she sagged with relief. Her pup was alive... 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 5. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. Also, I'd love to hear you guys' theories on where the story is going, it'd be interesting to see if people pick up on my foreshadowing, and it might give me ideas! P.S. I post progress updates in my bio incase anyone is curious about where I'm at. 

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 06



Author's Note: 

Still no sex, but it will appear soon. Probably chapter 8 or 9 at this point. 

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

————— 

Sam wheezed heavily, trying to breathe despite the excruciating pain pulsing out with every little movement. The sword in his back left everything below it paralyzed. He should have passed out from the pain by now, but somehow his magic seemed to be keeping him conscious. Whether or not that was a good thing... He wasn't sure. His mind seemed to be drifting on the edge of lucidity, and he couldn't think straight at all. 

'Does it hurt?' Letta's voice in his head made him smile faintly, though it was partially him gritting his teeth. His strained groan was the only response he could give. 'Hold on master, I will pull it out for you.' 

He clamped his eyes shut as she gently rolled him over with her massive, wet nose. The narrow sword's tip held his chest off the ground by a few inches, still embedded in his sternum. With each breath he took, it felt as though a new sword was stabbing him through the spine. The pain made him want to scream and cry, but not a single tear came. 

"AaaaAAAAAAAGH!!" He howled as he felt the blade pull from him. A few tears finally did come out then. The healing seemed to take hours as he lay there unmoving. His magic felt different somehow. As though there was a funnel that kept shrinking, the magic pouring out in smaller and smaller amounts. Even after the hole in his chest had sealed, he seemed to feel a phantom pain remaining there. 

He began to push himself up, but his elbows buckled and he slapped back down against the packed earth. 'Th-Thank you, Letta. I was certain I would die there.' He mumbled to her mentally. 

'I need no thanks, master. I only did what is expected of a familiar.' She said, sounding meek. 

'Letta, please don't... don't call me master anymore. Please just act the way you did before, we are... we are even now.' Sam replied dazedly. Distantly he felt his relief replaced by sadness and guilt. 'Call me Sam. Or pup, even! Just no more 'master' crap.' 

'I, I... Yes, Sam... I will try to do so.' She said apprehensively. 

Sam tried to push himself up again, but only managed to roll onto his back. For a while he just stared up at her huge black eyes. 'Just... Well, you're my friend now Letta, and it doesn't feel right to have you being all submissive to me. I would like it a lot more if you treated me as an equal.' He said finally. 

'I have never had a friend before... Is there a certain way I should act?' Letta asked, cocking her head to the side, the universal sign of canine curiosity. Sam felt like laughing at the sight. It was surprisingly cute, considering how terrifying she was normally capable of being. 

'Ugh... My mind... I need to focus...' He thought. He peered into those black eyes, seeing the distant whorls of golden power like miniature galaxies in the depths. 'Well... truth be told, I haven't had a real friend since my dad died when I was 12. But... I think mainly it's about being able to trust the other person, I guess. You always help each other out without having to worry about owing them or anything, it's just what you do because you care for them.' He said, his eyelids sagging heavily. 

'Okay, I think I understand now.' She replied, and gave what appeared to be a small nod. 

Suddenly, Letta's ears perked up and she crouched over Sam, her head staring intently down the direction he'd come from. Her lips rose, baring the dagger like white teeth. Her growl shook the air, sending rumbling vibrations through him. 

Sam lifted his head just enough to see what was causing her reaction. 'Letta... it's al...it's alright. They aren't bad.' He said, letting his head thump back down. His thoughts were still muddled, and he felt like he was getting drunk. Lorry and Mother Ranlenn were standing there at the mouth of the alley, gaping. Letta settled back hesitantly, still watching them attentively as she sat down next to Sam. 

Mother Ranlenn was carrying a wooden crate that clinked with glass as she stepped forward, carefully skirting the rubble that remained of the fountain. Lorry remained standing where she was, staring at Letta, though her gawking had been replaced by a look of curiosity. Mother Ranlenn set down the crate wordlessly, and she examined one of the knives that had been left behind by the Anged'der. 

She licked the blade and spat immediately. Her head whirled toward him and her eyes widened visibly. "These blades were lathered with wheel flower oil..." When Sam didn't respond she went on, "It temporarily takes away the ability to access your magic pool, and should have knocked you out! It seems that it did not effect you. Or rather, it did not effect you as intended. I can see that you are losing your grasp on it gradually now." 

Sam nodded weakly. That must have been the reason he felt so weak, and so tired. She pulled out two small vials and unstoppered them. "These will help to reverse the effects." She said, and held them to Sam's mouth. He opened wide and she poured in a few drops of each of the liquids. 

He immediately coughed as his throat began to burn, like he'd swallowed something that was too hot. The feeling settled in his chest and he clawed at it, gasping. It almost felt as though his heart was on fire, burning him from the inside out. Then, as suddenly as it came, it ceased. He laid there wheezing as Mother Ranlenn looked down at him impassively. It felt as though the fire had burned away every trace of the fatigue that had plagued him just moments before. 

"What... the hell... was that?" He muttered between breaths. 

"Sorry. Perhaps I should have warned you. It does burn a bit, doesn't it? Well, it can't be helped, blue weed tends to do that. The dellit oil should have soothed that by now and reenergized you, right?" She started rambling to herself about other methods she could have used, but Sam had stopped listening. 

The metaphorical funnel gradually began to widen until his magic was flowing into him regularly. The forms on his skin began writhing wildly, lighting the shade provided by Letta. It looked like the light was being refracted through spinning crystals as it came to life. Sam reluctantly released it as it began to cause his mind to stray to disturbing fancies. 

He breathed deeply and paused in pushing himself up as he saw the renewed looks of amazement on the women's faces. Sam also thought he might have seen a flash of fear in those gazes just before he let go of his power. 

"Why... H-How did you find me?" Sam asked, the question suddenly occurring to him. He stood, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks as the women stared at him. Seemingly reappraising him, they looked him up and down. "Uh... Hello?" He waved, trying to get their attention. 

"Hm? Oh, heh, well..." Lorry started, finally seeming to realize what she was doing. "I, well, I had Neril follow you. When you said you were going to look on your 'mode of transportation' after telling a story of how your winnem had died... I was curious." She blushed slightly as she spoke. 

Neril, the small beige cat, hesitantly came out of the alley, glancing cautiously at Letta as it loped over to Lorry. Letta was staring at the cat with an intensity that Sam hadn't seen from her before. He frowned, 'Letta, what's up? Why're you staring at him like that?' 

'I... I wish to chase him.' She said, and Sam did a double take. Her tail was flicking playfully behind her as she watched the terrified looking cat. 'May I, Sam?' 

He was dumbfounded. 'What? No! That's Lorry's familiar! Besides, we've done enough damage to the town for one day, don't you think?' Letta turned her head to him, a look of defiance in her eyes. 'Letta, no. Please don't, if one of those other cat's were here, maybe, but not Neril.' 

'Very well.' She replied sullenly, turning away. 

"Sorry about lying to you earlier, but I felt that she was a secret I'd be better off keeping at the time." Sam said, rubbing the back of his head. He continued, turning to Mother Ranlenn, "Would you mind taking a look at her wounds from the slime, Mother Ranlenn? She didn't get it as bad as Theodore, but I'm still worried." 

"Huh? Oh yes, yes of course." She said and started rummaging through her crate of supplies. "And, you may call me Felenna. It still feels strange when the townspeople call me Mother. Honestly, I do not really like it much. Makes me feel old." She began muttering to herself as she began circling Letta's paws, examining the scabbed wounds. 

'Letta, she is the one who helped Theodore. I think we can trust her.' Sam said. 'And, Lorry is helping me get supplies. We will be leaving Eltinn tonight.' 

Letta made an attempt at what seemed to be a sigh, but it ended up sounding more like a snort. 'You are so naive, pup. You cannot just trust someone because they help you once or twice. You will be stabbed in the back that way.' 

'I... Yeah, you're probably right. I will try to be careful about that.' Sam replied, scratching at the patchy hair on his cheek. 'I also need to learn to fight properly, I've had too many close calls. I don't suppose you would know anything about fighting with a sword, do you?' 

'No, I only know what I have seen men do. I find your little metal teeth to be trivial most of the time. However,' she continued, 'I believe that the Samson inside your head might be an exception. When he took control of your body... I was surprised, to say the least.' 

Sam felt his teeth clench as he was reminded of Samson. He felt like growling. 'I will have to think about that. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still bothered by how he ditched his friend when he was in need.' Sam sighed softly, and he rubbed his temples. 'Though, I do think I understand why he did it, it still makes me mad. I don't know, Letta.' 

'Well, you do not have to enjoy his presence, just use him to teach you the sword.' 

'Alright, I think I will do that then.' Sam said resignedly, trying to bring his thoughts back to what was currently happening. Lorry was glancing back and forth between him and Letta. He chuckled. 'I think she is wondering what we are saying. She's some sort of expert on familiars.' 

'Ah, I thought she was watching a drakkelfer that I could not see.' Letta replied, then attempted to laugh. 

'Was that a joke? What's a drakkelfer?' Sam asked. 

'Oh yes, I forgot again that you are new to this world.' She said, sounding disappointed for some reason. 'A drakkelfer is a little prickly creature that dashes back and forth when a predator is near. They are fast and difficult to eat.' 

Sam laughed, imagining Letta chasing this drakkelfer around. 'So, it seems you have a sense of humor.' He said, grinning widely. She imitated his grin, baring her enormous canines, and he started laughing again. Lorry stared at him incredulously. "What, your familiar doesn't make jokes?" He asked her, still smiling. "Pretty shitty familiar if you ask me. No offense Neril." 

Lorry just continued looking at him as if he was a madman, and Neril barely spared him a glance before returning to his wary monitoring of Letta. "How can you make jokes after what just happened? You nearly died!" 

Sam shrugged indifferently. "I dunno. Maybe I'm still delirious, or in shock perhaps." He shook his head. "I guess I'm just happy to be alive. Strange... I haven't felt that in a long time I think." Lorry looked at him worriedly, but didn't say more. 

"Alright, I have done what I can here. Her wounds were mostly shallow, and uninfected. They seem to be healing fairly quickly as well. They look almost two weeks old, but it has only been a few days according to what you told me." Fenella said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she looked at Letta's forepaws again. 

"Ah, that is due to the familiar bond." Lorry cut in. "Depending on how strong the binding is, a familiar may develop certain benefits through it. Along with quicker healing, it increases mental capacity. There are also occasionally a few less noticeable enhancements or abilities, but they are rare and often unnoticeable. I do not know much of them personally, as none of my familiars have developed those." 

"Huh, interesting..." Sam muttered, then looked up. "Just out of curiosity, what would happen if a familiar was bonded twice?" 

Lorry looked startled by the question somehow. "Um, I am not sure. When passing a bond on to another person there are no changes I'm aware of, but I have not heard of a case of someone re-bonding a severed familiar. Why do you ask?" 

Sam flinched slightly. "Aha, well ah... Lucy here," he said, gesturing to Letta, "said she'd been bonded in the past. I just wondered if maybe the benefits doubled up on top of each other or something." 

"Well, it is believed that the physical benefits are linked directly to magic, so I doubt it. Though, perhaps the mental capacity would be effected, since that is not affected after severing. It is a good question to think upon..." Lorry said, looking up at Letta curiously. "If you notice anything strange, I would be interested to hear of it." 

"Ah, certainly." Sam said, forcing out a laugh. "I doubt I'll notice anything before I leave tonight, though..." 

"Oh, you're leaving tonight..." She mumbled, sounding disappointed. "Well, perhaps I could join you! I needed to be leaving Eltinn soon anyways, so it would work." 

"No!" Sam said, surprising himself with his forcefulness. He calmed himself and continued, "I mean, I would prefer to keep it to just Theodore and I. We need to travel quickly, and Le-Lucy is having a hard time as it is with her wounds." 

He knew it was a weak argument as soon as it came out. He didn't really want to hurt her feelings, but after what had happened earlier, he just couldn't look at her without being reminded of his stepmother. 'I can't... I just, I need to leave that life behind...' He thought, trying to convince himself he was making the right choice. 

"Oh... Yes, of course. I understand..." Lorry said, and he knew she'd seen through his words. 

"Well, since that is settled, let's go back now." Fenella said, relieving Sam of the awkwardness that had started to build. "We will eat at my house." 

'Letta, I will meet you at the lake tonight. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble.' Sam said, turning toward the imposing, gray wolf. 

She snorted loudly. 'I was about to say the same to you, pup.' She replied and bared her teeth again in that menacing smile. Sam laughed softly as she rose and began to trot away, following the cleared path she left before. With that, the other three began to head back. Careful to avoid the more dangerous parts of the slums, unlike Sam had on the way there. 

——— 

Hennel knew he'd won as soon as his strike connected, the wooden practice sword cracking loudly against the thin leather armor. Deredd grunted as his left hip failed under him, and by the time he looked up again Hennel had his weapon held to his neck. 

"Alright alright, I've had enough humiliation for one day." Deredd said, using his sword to help pick himself up. "Sometimes I wish I had friends who weren't sword masters, so I could win for once." 

Hennel laughed as he clapped his friend on the shoulder. "No need to be sullen, Deredd. You can only improve by fighting a challenging opponent." 

"Then why don't you practice with someone who's better than you, Hennel? Where has Darrel gotten off to?" Deredd asked, his voice becoming whinier as he went on. 

Hennel sighed. "Darrel has accompanied Dettella to direct her guard while she is away. They left this morning, and it is unlikely he will be returning anytime soon, as far as I am aware." 

Deredd started muttering under his breath and Hennel only caught a few words. "... Damned... I swear... Leaving me... Deal with..." He pulled on his purple coat and cloak roughly, still grunting and mumbling as he trudged toward the gate. 

Hennel shook his head and chuckled to himself as he pulled on his own coat. Deredd stumbled as his oversized cloak caught in the gate hinge and cursed loudly as he tore the fabric. Hennel couldn't help but laugh aloud as his friend tramped away. "Blight you, Prince of stone widdels!" He shouted at Hennel, shaking a fist as he turned. 

'I can always trust him to lift my spirits. Even if it is at the cost of his dignity.' He thought, straightening the silver trimmed lapels of his high guard uniform. Despite his rather rough edged personality, Deredd was an honest man beneath it all, and loyal to a fault. Unfortunately, his good mood did not last long. 'I wonder how Dettella is fairing right now... Gah, that is the thousandth time I've thought that in the last hour! Barely gone for half a day and I can already feel the gray hair growing.' 

He sighed again, as he buckled on his felnn metal sword. A make of sword only granted to the elite swordsmen of the land. It was deceptively light to the person bound to it, but to anyone else it would be impossible to wield. The weight of it would take six men to lift, and that was only the bare minimum required to do so. As he adjusted the curved scabbard on his hip, Hennel felt like a missing piece of himself had just been put back. 

He rested his left hand on the intricately carved pommel that depicted the head of a whip falcon, it's curved beak lined with dagger-like teeth. Beginning to stride toward the gate, Hennel felt a strange feeling. Like there was an itch between his shoulder blades. He tried to shrug it off, but the sensation only grew stronger as he walked through the open gate. 

Twitching slightly, he suddenly had a bad feeling. Something was about to happen. That was all he could tell. Something was going to happen, very soon. What was this 'something' though? Hennel tensed as he glided down the open passage, glancing between the grand marble pillars that lined the right side. 

He gave a slight smile to the red haired maidservant who was heading in the opposite direction. She curtsied in her simple brown dress and returned the smile, showing off some very white teeth. Hennel shuddered as he passed her, that smile had never met those blue eyes. 'Odd,' he thought, 'I don't think I've ever seen such immaculate teeth on one who wasn't a noble.' 

Suddenly, his instincts kicked in, and all thought slipped from his head. He ducked as he caught a glimpse of light reflecting onto the pillar next to him. A knife whipped past his left ear, nicking the tip of it. He spun, ripping his sword from it's sheath as he pivoted, and swung. Metal clanged against metal as his blade struck the next knife out of the air as it was headed straight for his neck. 

The woman, no... The assassin, caught the deflected blade from the air. She led the blade in an impossibly graceful twist between thumb and forefinger, and it was headed straight for his heart now in that fraction of a second. Hennel turned sideways, slipping between the knife and pillar. Already, the grinning assassin was flinging another blade at him. 

Hennel leapt forward. His metallic, purple tinted sword arcing forward with extreme precision. Knife met sword and the shrill, ear piercing screech of metal bending made the woman wince. A ruined knife clattered against the polished stone floor. Sharp, dark blue patterns seemed to flicker about on the flat of Hennel's curved felnn blade as he struck. 

She howled in pain as her legs were cut from beneath her. Blood sprayed outward, and she hurled a fourth knife at him through the shower of crimson as she fell. He leapt back, and tried to deflect the knife but it was too near his hands. He couldn't move quick enough. It took a moment for Hennel to register the pain in his stomach. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 06



The assassin had accessed her magic in that brief moment, yellow-green curls flaring up on her grimacing face and hands. It faded slightly as she must have directed the flow to concentrate in her thighs. Hennel grit his teeth and grunted as he slipped the knife free from his gut. Quickly, he accessed his own magic. The meager pool of jagged dark blue was pulled into his left hand and he attached a complex severing to the blade. 

His hand slung forward. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. The knife tumbled down into the web of tight swirls that was dragging the woman's legs back. A sharp snap echoed in the hall as his magic activated. Wicked forms flicked out like small sparks of lightning among the clouds of spirals. It only cut away a small number of the threads, but it was enough to slow it. 

Hennel lunged, flicking his sword in a flash of purple. His strike sliced the top half of her skull clean off, exposing a cross section view of her brain for a seemingly endless moment. A mix of strange clear fluid and red blood spilling out. The top half clunked against the ground, and the corpse fell backward with a slap. Her magic attempted to continue it's process for another second before fading into the skin, leaving her legs partially reattached. 

Hennel gasped for air and clutched his stomach wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood that just kept pouring out. "Ugh... Damn, that hurts..." He flicked off the blood from his blade, and sheathed it. The fight had lasted four seconds. 

Groaning, he turned slowly, and started stumbling toward the direction Deredd had gone before him. The pain from the wound was excruciating, it burned like hell. He had to find somebody soon, that blood was coming out quickly. Very quickly. Trying to call for help, he rounded the corner. He left a smeared trail of red behind him as he staggered down the corridors of the palace. He made it to the hall where eight paths converged and finally, he collapsed... 

——— 

"Er, thanks for letting me bathe here before I left." Sam said as he walked into the room where Fenella was pouring some concoction down Theodore's opened mouth. "I hadn't realized how grimy I was until after I was clean." 

"Of course. You dumped the tub after you finished, right?" She replied, not looking up from the small copper colored funnel she was pouring through. 

"Yeah, I did. Um, do you know where I could get a razor or something? This thing growing on my face has been bothering me for a while." He said with a laugh. 

"Hm? Oh, I'm sure you could acquire one from one of the blacksmith's around town. I don't own one personally, if that's what you're asking." She said, finally glancing up as he sat down on the bed that lay parallel to Theodore's. "Those clothes seem to be quite fine. That woman must be quite wealthy to afford that." 

"Y-Yeah, they're really nice actually." Sam said, looking down at the blue-gray shirt. The cloth was very soft, and seemed surprisingly sturdy. Bright, silvery laces were crisscrossed tightly through the dark gray v at the front of the collar, similar to his other shirt. It fit him snugly, but not tightly. The nearly black, navy pants were loose at the top and slimmed toward the calf to fit into his boots. And, they had pockets! "I kinda feel guilty for letting her buy them for me." 

"Yes, speaking of which, she left while you were bathing. She was saying she was going to purchase some supplies for your journey." Fenella said, grinning slightly at the wince on Sam's face. 

"I... Goddammit... Is she somehow purposefully trying to make me feel worse about telling her she couldn't join me?" He mumbled under his breath. He started scratching at his beard grumpily. "Fuckin' itchy fuck..." 

"I can just shave that off for you..." Fenella said finally, after watching him curse to himself for a minute. 

"What? I thought you said you didn't have a razor?" 

"I don't." She said, turning and replacing the cup and funnel on one of her many shelves. "I use my magic. Though, I can understand if you refuse. Most aren't comfortable with that." 

"Ah... Uh, sure I guess that'll work." He said, rubbing the back of his head. She nodded and came up next to him. She took his head in her hands and started turning it this way and that, examining the patchy beard. Sam heard her suck in slightly when she first grasped him, and he nearly did as well as he saw the dark, seemingly erratic patterns in his head. 

The crooked lines weren't black as he'd thought originally, but a very, very dark red. 'Wow, I can see the entirety of it. It... It seems so small.' The little sphere of Fenella's magic was dwarfed next to his own. Finally, she stopped moving his head and embraced her power. The dark lines skittering across the surface of her skin. He thought that if he concentrated, that he could sort of see her magic shifting slightly as she drew from it. 

His skin tingled slightly as she dragged her fingers along his cheek, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his dark brown whiskers fall away. They seemed to flutter slightly and turn to dust as they fell. His eyes widened at the sight. He suppressed a shiver as Fenella's nails tickled his neck. Finally, she pulled away from him and shook her head as if to clear it. 

"Wow, my face feels really smooth..." He said softly as he rubbed a hand across his upper lip. 

"I used to do that for my father, and I got quite adept at it. I haven't had to do it since he passed though, so I wasn't sure if I could do it as well." She said, and Sam noted a very faint flush to her freckled cheeks. 

"Oh, well it feels good to me. Thanks." He said, smiling slightly. Suddenly, he noticed Fenella was looking straight into his eyes. Her caramel brown eyes seeming to search his own. He shifted himself, suddenly uncomfortable. "Wh-What?" 

She didn't answer for another moment. "You are a strange man, Sam." 

"Eh? Where'd that come from?" 

"Oh never mind, I'm just thinking aloud." She said, finally looking away. "I'd like to ask you something." 

"Sure, ask away." 

"Could I leave with you? I know you denied that of Lorry, but I get the feeling that there was another reason for that. If I have guessed correctly, you are going to the forest elves to request healing for Theodore, am I right?" 

Sam was taken aback and stumbled through his response. "I-I, uh, yeah, um, that's where I planned on going. B-But, why would you just up and leave so randomly?" 

"Well, if what you told me yesterday was true, there is an army heading directly toward Eltinn. Unless some miracle falls from above, this town will be overrun easily. There will be raping and pillaging, among other things, and I would be of a mind to be out of the way as soon as I could. I have no loyalties keeping me here. 

"I would also be able to keep your friend in the ideal conditions for a healing to occur. You see, healing magic is best used on fresh wounds. If his legs were left to heal over naturally, by the time you reached Leddin they would be unable to regenerate his legs properly. On top of that, I would be able to learn much from the elves. They are very knowledgeable about herbs and medicines." 

Sam's mind reeled as she poured out the words so rapidly. When he finally reassembled his thoughts he said, "I would not mind you joining us, I guess. L-Lucy is plenty big enough for one more passenger." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he glanced down at the sleeping Theodore. 

"I appreciate it. I will begin preparing immediately." 

Remembering what Letta had said about cautiousness, he reminded himself to be more wary. 'She could be lying about the healing part just to give me a reason to take her. Though, it seems reasonable enough I suppose... Fuck. Well it's too late to take it back now, I'll just need to be more careful.' 

Sam looked up as he heard loud clanking and rattling from the upper floor and he realized that Fenella was no longer in the room. She apparently meant what she said by 'immediately'. Picking up the new coat Lorry had bought him, he strode into the waiting room at the front. He pulled on the dark blue coat, straightening the simple collar. He fingered the silvery trim that lined the open front. 

He really did feel like he'd taken advantage of Lorry, and well... perhaps he had at that. Walking through the front door, he stepped into the waning sunlight of the evening. A few people bustled past on the cobblestone street and he wondered if some of them might be preparing to leave as well. Far above, the dark silhouettes of birds swirled and dove around each other, as if they were playing. 

Sam sat down on the front step below the door, and rested his arms on his knees. He didn't know why but it felt good to sit there, able to just be alone for a little while. Running his fingers through his hair, he wondered how he would 'approach' Samson again. Rather, it seemed more likely to be closer to coaxing him out. 

'I will do it once we're on the road. For now, just worry about getting that far.' He sighed. Life had become very stressful in the last few days. His world had been unpleasant, with his abusive stepmother and half sister, but even then he'd never been in a particularly life threatening situation. After all, if he were to have died then Britney would've had to get an actual job to pay for her daft fancies. 

'Would it be better to be back there? Could I really go back after this glimpse of freedom I've had?' He sighed. 'No, I couldn't. Despite the danger of this place, I have felt a bit better at times. I don't want to leave Theodore behind, or Letta for that matter. Besides, it probably isn't even possible to go back anymore...' 

Finally raising his head, he saw a young girl staring at him from across the street. She blushed and looked away. He watched her curiously as she looked back at him from the corner of her eye after a moment and fidgeted with the dirt dusted violet dress that rested over her knees. She couldn't have been more than 14, if that. Eventually, she turned her head to look at him again, and gave a hesitant smile. 

Sam was utterly perplexed by her behavior. He figured he should smile back, so he did. It was a small smile and it never reached his eyes, but she brightened visibly. Her plump baby cheeks flushed even more as she seemed to be having an internal argument with herself. Sam just continued to watch as she looked down at her dirty dress, and hurriedly tried to brush off the dirt. She then tried to fix her black hair, which was held up in a pair of pigtails. 

When she looked back at him a third time, she jumped slightly and this time her entire face was nearly consumed in the pink blush. Then, seeming to steel herself, she stood up from the steps she sat on, and scampered across the street. Sam's eyes widened in surprise at this, and he scratched his head. 'She couldn't... Does she like me? Is that what all of that was about? No way... I mean, that couldn't be it. Right?' He shook his head, dispelling the thought. 

The girl stopped a few feet in front of him. Her hands gripped the front of her dress which swayed slightly around her calves. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it, then opened it again. Like she wasn't sure what to say. Sam saw her difficulty and decided to speak first. "Um, hello. How are you?" 

She stiffened. "I-I-I... I jus', er... I saw ya sittin' here, an I-I..." Her mouth worked again, trying to speak. "Yer real handsome..." 

Despite having guessed that only a moment before, Sam was taken aback. "Oh... Uh, thank you. I'm flattered." He said, and began rubbing the back of his head. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been complimented like that. He smiled, more widely this time. "You're very pretty too." 

'If this girl really likes me, then that should make her feel less embarrassed, right?' He thought, hoping he wouldn't seem like a pedophile or something. She relaxed visibly. She smiled brightly, and Sam found his mood was lifted by that smile somehow. It was so genuine. 

"M-May I sit 'ere?" She asked, looking at the space next to him on the step. 

"Y-Yeah, of course." He replied, and scooted to the right a bit. She sat down carefully, and straightened her dress over her knees. She sat silently, looking down at her hands in her lap. Finally, Sam decided to speak, "er, what's your name?" 

Her blush seemed to have receded a bit, and she looked up at him hesitantly. "M-My name? O-Oh, I'm named, uh... w-well, it's kinda a silly name... it-it's Pennia." 

"Pennia? I don't think it's silly, it's a fine name." Sam said sincerely and Pennia smiled gratefully at him. "Where I come from, that would be an unusual name. I find it interesting to hear all the different names in this country." 

"Th-Thank ya much." She said softly, and looked back down at her hands. She seemed to be twiddling her thumbs. "Um, what's yer name?" 

"Oh right!" He said with a laugh. "My name is Sam. Short for Samson." 

"That's a good name. Sam... Samson... Yeah, a noble name." She said it as if testing it out. 

Sam was about to correct her and say he wasn't a noble or anything, but held it back. 'Well, if she thinks I'm a noble this might be like some sort of dream come true for her... Perhaps it's like the kind of Prince Charming sort of dream she has in her mind. I wouldn't want to shatter that for her,' he thought, 'It's a bit like my crush on Ms. Albright... Okay, I'll try not to ruin it.' 

"Y-You seem different from most of them nobility 'ere." Pennia said, looking up at him again, as if hoping for him to confirm it. 

"How do they act here? I have not met many as of yet." He asked, keeping the nerves out of his voice. 

"W-Well... I dunno. They are kinda cruel, and don't talk to us." She said, and it sounded like she was trying to restrain her accent a bit. 

"Ah, I see. Well, I suppose I try to be kind to everyone, and I don't really mind talking to anybody." Sam said. 

"Yes, I think you seem real nice, Lord Samson!" She said while nodding enthusiastically. "Lady Ornilla didn't even warn of the army comin' 'fore she got preparin' herself an all." 

Sam frowned. "That's pretty messed up. Is your family leaving Eltinn too? I imagine it will be pretty dangerous once that army gets here." 

"Yeah we are. My pa says we leavin' day after the morrow. He's been fishing around for a wagon today, and ma is gettin' the rations for the travel. My older brother is tryin' ta find a map to Fenlin, pa says it's the closest city that can take in refugees." It seemed Pennia's anxiousness relaxed a bit as she started talking about her family. 

"Ah, well that's good to hear. I'd hate for good people to get caught up in the fighting." He replied. At that moment, Sam saw Lorry approaching from down the street so he decided to wrap up the conversation. "Well, I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I must begin my own preparations to leave." 

Sam stood up and held a hand out to Pennia. She put her dainty hand in his and he helped her stand. There was no reaction in his mind when he touched her, so it appeared she was unable to use magic. Then, he knelt and kissed the top of her hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Pennia. You really brightened my day, and I hope we can meet again in the future." 

She blushed and looked up into his eyes as he stood straight again. "A-A-Ah y-yes, I would like that very much." Pennia said and hesitantly pulled her hand from his. She gave a somewhat shaky curtsy and quickly walked across the street, smiling and waving as she went. He might've been mistaken, but Sam thought he saw a slight skip in her step. 

And with that, Sam reentered Mother Ranlenn's. He felt more at peace than he had in a very long time. 'I hope that worked the way I think it did.' He thought, and sat down on the bench in the waiting room. 'Perhaps I can truly find happiness in this world...' 

——— 

"Ouch!" Dettella grunted as the carriage bounced roughly. The roads were getting more and more ragged the further into the country they got, and it seemed they would have to ride through the night since the nearest town was still miles off. Somehow, Dettella doubted she would find much sleep that night. "Yalene, please don't look at me with such a face. I am not so fragile that a few bumps in the path will damage me." 

"S-Sorry milady, I did not mean to offend." Yalene said, and looked away with an embarrassed expression. "Perhaps we should have the party rest for the night? I imagine the winnem are exhausted, we would not want to have them die of overworking."  

"Y-Yes I sup-pose you mi-might be right." Dettella replied. 'Perhaps I am not as resilient as I would like to believe.' She sighed, and pulled back the curtain. "Master Remille! Master Remille, we have decided to change plans! We will stop to rest at nightfall, so please inform the other guards!" 

The stone faced Darrel nodded at her words and gave a few hand gestures to his subordinates. Then, he turned back to the road. Dettella pursed her lips. 'I'm going to get some emotion out of him eventually.' She thought, and nodded to herself determinedly. She left the curtain open and used the last light of the day to read away the seemingly slowing time. 

——— 

"You really didn't need to go out of your way to get all of this stuff for me, Lorry." Sam said as she came in the front door, pulling a small, hand drawn wagon. "I really feel guilty taking the clothes as it is." 

"Nonsense. You need the proper supplies if you're going to be traveling." She said sternly. The Sam got up and helped her pull it up the steps and into the front room. It was quite heavy. "Let me explain what's here." 

She opened the large wooden chest mounted snugly in the wagon. Inside, Sam could see more clothing, and a number of things he couldn't identify. "I picked up another set of clothes and a cloak for you, some food, and basic survival supplies." She started. "Here is a flicker, here is a lantern just in case..." 

"Wait wait wait. Slow down a bit. What does the flicker thing do?" 

"Oh, it starts a fire for you. It's halfling made, so it's the best quality. You just poke this pointy part into what you want to light and press this switch here." She said, holding up the metal device. Looking at it from the side, it almost looked like the silhouette of a humming bird with that sharp needle part coming out of it. So apparently it was some sort of lighter. Sam was immediately curious of how it worked. 

"Mmm, I see. I-I guess that will be pretty useful." He replied. 

"Yes, it will. And here, I got some sturdy, steel cooking supplies which should last on the road." She continued, holding up some a pot, a few small plates, and some sets of utensils. "Ah, well I suppose you can figure the rest out on your own. Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you off, I must attempt to get my mother and sister to leave Eltinn with me. They are very stubborn." 

"Ah, yes that is unfortunate. I hope they end up going with you, it would suck if they got caught up in the mess somehow." He replied, but he was relieved she wouldn't be around when he left. It would be awkward to deal with her seeing Fenella leaving with him. 

"Yes it would... suck." She said, clearly not familiar with the word being used that way. "Anyways... Ah, well... I was wondering if perhaps I could hug you before I left. I truly am sorry for what happened this morning." 

Sam hesitated for a moment, but he relented. "Yeah sure, I guess it won't hurt." He said with a nervous laugh. He embraced Lorry in a sort of half-hearted hug, and broke away quickly. 

She looked regretful, but smiled anyway. "Maybe if we meet again in the future we can start over." 

Sam nodded, but thought it pretty unlikely that they would meet again. "Well, thanks for everything you've done for me. I really do appreciate the gifts. I wish we could part on a better note, but I suppose the circumstances won't allow it." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 06



She nodded sadly and waved as she left. Sam stepped into the doorframe and waved back, as she started down the street toward her mother's home. When he turned back, he jumped slightly as he saw Fenella looking at the chest of supplies curiously. She had a larger chest of her own resting on one of the chairs. 

"She really went all out didn't she. That woman is quite strange. I'm a little disappointed she won't be joining us, but I won't pry into your reasoning." Fenella said, looking up at him. When Sam did not reply she continued, "I'm ready to depart whenever you are, but I suppose eating something before we leave would be a good idea." 

"Yeah, we should. Do you mind if I try cooking for us? It's been a while since I was able to cook, and I miss it a bit. I used to do it a lot back home." Sam said honestly, reminiscing about the times his father had made meals with him. 

"Sure, I don't mind. I can do a final check on your friend before we leave while you do it. I need to put some new bandages on him." She replied and Sam nodded. "Follow me, I'll show you where I keep the food and spices." 

——— 

Hennel groaned as he opened his eyes. He blinked away sleep, and tried to recall what had happened. 'After I collapsed... What happened?' Pushing himself up, he looked down at his bare stomach. A wicked purplish scar was all that remained of the wound that had been there. It throbbed painfully. 

"Hello?" He called out into the dark room. 

"P-Prince!" He heard an excited voice. A clicking sound echoed, and the light of a lantern flickered on. "Thank the spirits! I was worried that my healing would not suffice!" 

"Ah it is you, Fiernil." Hennel said as he saw the short, elven man rushing over to him. The lantern light flickered on the surface of Fiernil's orange eyes. "What happened to me after...?" 

"H-Hold your questions for a moment if you please, Master Hennel." Fiernil said. His bright red hair began to lift as though weightless, and flickered like a flame with red light. He pressed his hands to the sides of Hennel's head, and he began to feel a deep warmth run through him. "Ah, as I expected. I cannot seem to repair your wound any further, unfortunately. Perhaps another more skilled than I could do it, but the poison on that blade was very potent." 

"So the knives were poisoned. That explains why it was so abnormally painful." Hennel commented as he pressed on the scar experimentally. He winced, it felt like he was touching a still open wound. "Fiernil, please tell me. Was anything discovered about the assassin?" 

"I'm afraid not, Master Hennel. Apparently, they were unable to identify her, and she had nothing on her person aside from a number of other knives." Fiernil replied with a worried frown as he looked at Hennel's new scar. 

"How long was I unconscious?" He asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Only a few hours actually. I must admit, you are surprisingly resilient." Fiernil answered in his odd accent which tended to switch between lilting and slurring. "Despite that, I recommend you stay resting. I was only barely able to keep the poison from killing you, after all." 

"I appreciate the recommendation, but I am quite alright." Hennel said, but as he stood he felt a sharp pain from his stomach. The only sign he'd even felt it though, was the subtle twitch of the corner of his left eye. "I have a duty to uphold, and I cannot rest if there are assassins roaming the palace." 

Fiernil looked like he wanted object further, but he kept silent as Hennel grabbed the shirt that was draped over the back of a chair. 'Perhaps it would have been best if I did rest...' He thought regretfully as the pain continued to stab at him. He was already shrugging into his purple coat by the time he reached the dark wood door. 

"I will return for a check up later." He said over his shoulder as he turned the silver handle. Fiernil nodded hesitantly, worry clearly written on his sharply featured face. 

"About time." Came the familiar voice of Deredd as he stepped out. He was leaning against the wall to the left of the door, his shaggy black hair as messy as usual. "If you took any longer, I'd have thought you were just using it as an excuse." 

If Hennel wasn't in so much pain, he'd have been glad to see Deredd waiting for him, but as it was, he wasn't in the mood for his usual jests. "Don't be an ass. What is the status?" 

Deredd seemed to pick up on his foul mood and turned serious. He fell into stride next to the prince and they headed toward the high guard's meeting room. "We found one of the other sword captains dead along with his attacker. It seems he was stabbed in the shoulder and the poison got to him before he got help. The palace staff have been checked and told to report any suspicious activity. We have found two other assassins carrying the same knives, both are women. They are under interrogation, but we have not managed to get anything out of them yet. At least, that was how it was last I heard." 

Hennel did not reply as he buckled on his sword belt, and hastily combed his sandy blonde hair back with his fingers. 'Damn. This pain is worse than I thought. Maybe I really should go back to rest.' Each step seemed to send an intense burst through him. 

"Hey, are you sure you're alright?" Deredd asked, looking at him with concern. "You're sweating quite a lot." 

"It hurts, but I'll manage." Hennel replied. 'Why would only the sword captains be attacked? My first instinct was Tenall, but this isn't her style. Not enough suffering. Along with the fact that she had no reason to go after the other captain.' 

He felt another jolt of pain, and another, and another. He could feel his sweat coming out profusely. 'Ergh, I don't have time for pain right now.' His training was beginning to fail him at this point, and he was showing signs of his pain. He was twitching with each step and his teeth were clenched to the point of hurting, though he didn't notice this at the time. 

"Hennel, maybe you should go back and lie down. Your face is very pale." Deredd said, the concern on his face becoming even more obvious. 

Hennel began to consider it, as they approached the stairs. 'Yes, he's probably right. I can't think clearly in this situation.' He took a step down, and suddenly he felt himself tumbling forward. The pain had become too much and he stumbled. Now, he was crashing down the stairs, and all he could do was feel like an idiot as he hit the bottom and blacked out... 

——— 

Sam stirred the pot of soup that hung above the fire in Fenella's fireplace. The flames licked at the bottom of the dark pot, and lit the blackened stone of the chimney. The mixture he'd managed to fix up was a crude attempt at the potato soup his father used to make. It was quite difficult with only the bizarre ingredients of this world. 

'Well, at least I have potatoes and noodles, the core ingredients.' He thought as the water began to boil. The smell of some of the odd spices wafted up into his nose. It smelled hot, or spicy, rather. 'Does that make sense?' He added in the noodles after a few minutes of boiling and some of the other strange vegetables. 

The small yellow roots, which were a strange rectangle-like shape, were the closest thing he could find to carrots. They were a bit sweeter than he would have liked, but ultimately it wouldn't affect the taste too much. Finally, he pulled the pot off after he checked that both the noodles and potatoes were relatively soft. Ideally, he would have put more time into it, but he didn't have the luxury at the moment. 

"Okay, the soup is done." He said, placing the pot onto the foldable metal table Fenella had brought out of a closet. He pulled off the large oven mitts, and grabbed two of the clay bowls off the shelf. 

"You've gotten me curious now. I've never seen tates used this way before, or the fentils either." Fenella said as she sat down and started ladling soup into her bowl. 

'I suppose a fentil is what those yellow things are called...' Sam thought as he pulled his own chair back and sat. Laughing, he said, "Don't expect too much. I'm quite unfamiliar with the spices here so I had to improvise a bit." 

Using a carved wooden spoon, she scooped soup out of her bowl and blew on it to cool it. Sam ladled soup into his own bowl. "Mmm. This is far better than I expected. Better than I can make, that's for certain." She said. "Though I suppose that's not saying much. I'm not the best of cooks." 

Sam was skeptical, but when he put the spoon into his mouth he was surprised. It was almost as good as his dad's. The flavor was quite different though. Spicier and sweeter, and not quite as rich. 'Not too bad after all.' 

Sam finished his serving just as Fenella finished her second. 'Jesus, is it really that good?' He wondered with a raised eyebrow. "Do you have a lid or something for this pot?" 

"Uh, no I think it was destroyed a while back." She said, and when she saw his questioning look finished with, "Don't ask." 

"Alright, I guess I'll just use the pot Lorry got me. We can have the rest tomorrow or something." Sam said as he stood and retrieved the pot and lid from his new chest of goodies. After transferring the soup he wondered about spillage during the bumpy ride. 'Ah, I can just bind the lid down. This whole 'magic' thing is pretty convenient.' 

With that, they packed up, and left Fenella's home and shop behind. The sky was dyed a deep purple as they pulled their small wagons toward the lake, where Letta was waiting. Even though it was dark out, the streets were still busy. The flickering light of lanterns lit the cobblestones as people passed by. Even the slums seemed to be thrumming with life as Fenella led him through the safest route. 

Theodore was lying in the wagon Fenella was pulling, wrapped snugly in a thick wool blanket. Sam pulled their chests on the smaller wagon Lorry had brought. Fenella's chest was quite heavy, and by the time they finally reached the lake he was breathing heavily. 

"Stop here, I don't think I can pull this if we go on to the rougher terrain. I'll have Le-Lucy meet us here." Sam said, barely keeping himself from saying Letta's actual name. For the moment it was probably best to keep that a secret. 

She nodded and brought her wagon to a halt. They were only just outside the town, but he figured that worrying about causing a stir at that point was just silly. 'Letta! Meet us at the edge of town!' He shouted mentally. 

'I am on my way.' She said simply. A few moments later, he saw a massive, dark silhouette prancing through shallow waters. As she came closer he noticed she had her mouth open and her tongue was hanging out. She bounced toward them like a giant, playful puppy. Sam laughed at the absolute ridiculousness of it. 

'Looks like your paws are feeling better.' He said, and as soon as he did Letta closed her mouth, lowered her head, and started feigning a limp. She whined loudly. He chuckled and shook his head. 'Jesus christ...' 

Letta resumed her playful bounding as she finally reached them, and stopped suddenly, causing dirt to spray outward. A clod bounced off Sam's shoulder and landed in the grass. He looked down at it. Fenella just looked on at the scene indifferently. 'You done yet?' He asked Letta. 

'For now, I suppose.' She knelt down and rested her head on her paws, waiting for them to situate themselves. 

Sam hefted Fenella's heavy wooden chest, and slid it up onto Letta's back. He clambered up after it, careful to keep it from falling off. He aligned it evenly and bound it securely with his magic. 'Pretty convenient indeed.' 

His own chest followed suit, resting up against the other one. Then, Fenella gently lifted Theodore out of her wagon and handed him up to Sam. He then bound him to Letta's back similarly to the chests, making sure he wouldn't be jostled too much. Finally, he reached down a hand to help pull Fenella up behind him. She adjusted her split, pink skirt which seemed meant for riding, and told him she was ready to go. 

'Alright, let's go!' Sam said to Letta, and gripped two handfuls of thick, gray fur. She stood, and in a matter of seconds they were heading north at what felt like 50 miles per hour. 

——— 

Dettella woke to the sounds of people shouting. Outside her carriage, a fire was beginning to blaze uncontrollably in the pitch darkness of night. The light flickered around the edges, and through the gaps in the closed curtains. 'What is going on?' She shook herself awake and peeked out the window. What she saw made her tremble more than when they had been attacked the previous day. 

Dark, looming figures danced in the bright light, their shadows growing and shrinking as they moved. The creatures' naked skin visible in the light of the fire seemed a blue that was near black. Small speckles of purple dotted the bulging, warty spots that were most prevalent on the monstrosities' arms and legs. Their arms hung down to the ground despite how tall they were. Gnarled fingers curled up from those dragging arms and were tipped with long, jagged, white claws. 

In the moment that she was watching, one of the beasts whipped an arm forward with disturbing speed. It's claws shredded through one of the scampering winnem, leaving it in four pieces. It knelt down and began chewing into the spilling organs, and Dettella saw that it had blue eyes as big as dinner plates. She couldn't see the whites or pupil on either one, and that was the last thing she could see before her carriage started moving. 

It dashed away with the speed of a frightened animal. Which she supposed was appropriate due to what was pulling it, a frightened animal. She heard the screeching of winnem behind and ahead of them as they tried to escape whatever those creatures had been. 

"M-Milady?! W-What is happening?!" Yalene cried out. They both yelped as the carriage jumped suddenly and they were tossed from their seats. 

"I-I'm not sure! Some creatures attacked us!" Dettella gripped the window frame, trying to keep herself steady. She pulled back the curtain and searched the darkness for any sign of Darrel or one of the other guards. Muffled shouts surrounded the hurtling carriage. "Light a lantern Yalene. Keep the flame low." 

A moment later, dim light filled the coach. Dettella could see the sprinting forms of winnem outside, with riders on top. Further into the night she saw more shadows... larger shadows... 'Are those creatures keeping pace?!' Her eyes widened as one of the shadows moved toward the clustered riders around the carriage. 

A scream echoed into the night. Dettella only caught a brief glimpse as a spray of blood splashed into her eyes. The creature had slashed through both mount and rider, and the parts fell behind. She fought back the urge to cry out as she recoiled back inside the coach. Yalene however, did not resist that urge, she shrieked as she saw the blood soaked face of her mistress. 

"M-Milady! A-Are you hurt?!" Yalene's voice was so high pitched that Dettella barely understood what she'd said. 

"No. I am fine." She replied as she accepted the handkerchief that was proffered to her. 'I can't say the same for that soldier, though...' She trembled slightly as she wiped away the still hot blood. "Are there any knives in here?" 

"W-Why are you asking that, milady? W-What, what about the guards?" Yalene asked, her pitch growing higher and higher, to the point that it was hurting Dettella's ears. 

"It is best to be cautious, rather than hope the guards can handle everything." She explained, trying to maintain her outward patience. Inside, she was screaming at Yalene for being an idiot. "Whatever those creatures are, they are frighteningly strong." 

"O-Okay... There are some cooking knives in the back somewhere." Yalene answered and began digging through the storage area behind the back seat. "H-Here you are..." 

Dettella took the large, unwieldy knife absentmindedly. Her thoughts were scrambling for any idea of what those things might be. 'They match the description of the gurilthenn... but the books never said anything about them attacking people. They're just supposed to hunt small game and livestock.' She looked down at the long, serrated blade in her hand. 'Would this be enough to kill one of those things?' Recalling the fleeting glimpse she'd had of the hulking beasts, she shook her head. 'Not likely.' 

Suddenly, the carriage lurched sharply to the right. Dettella found herself tumbling over and over, the knife fell from her grasp. She heard Yalene scream, and more shouting from outside. A horrible shredding sound came as ivory claws ripped into the wood of the carriage. The rolling came to an abrupt stop. She felt her head collide with the roof, which was now the floor. 

Black and white specks crept into her vision. She groaned, trying to push herself up on shaky arms. Looking around, she saw Yalene lying unmoving in a heap beside her. The knife she'd been holding a moment before was embedded to the handle in Yalene's left thigh. Dettella grabbed her forehead, trying to steady her wavering consciousness. 'I need to think fast.' She pulled off her light blue silk gloves and pressed the left one to Yalene's leg as the other yanked the knife free. She pulled forth her power and silvery light glowed out from her hand as the forms glided across the surface of her skin. 

The light became more intense as she focused it into her left hand and pushed it into Yalene. Forcing her will into it, the magic pulled Yalene's blood back to her and sealed the wound. She turned away from Yalene then, her mind forming the next course of action. The terrible shredding sound continued as the creature tried to open the coach. 

Dettella lunged and grabbed one of the huge claws as it dug into the carriage. She quickly placed a rather sloppy binding. The claw was now stuck into the bottom side of the carriage, though it would likely not remain for long as it was. She quickly set another bind on the next claw, this one stronger. Then, she repeated it with the last one. A silver web of spiraling patterns now lit the inside of the carriage where the creature's hand was stuck. 

She could hear the thing grunting as it's claws gradually got pulled together. The wood creaked as the claws were crushed inwards by the force of the bind. The creature was howling now. 'Alright, that should occupy it for now.' Dettella turned back towards the unconscious Yalene. She crawled toward the door and tried to open it, but it was jammed shut. "Damn..." 

She grabbed Yalene's limp form and dragged her toward the door, then began shoving her through the small window. "Ergh! How are you so heavy...?!" Finally she managed to fit the handmaiden through and followed her out. 

Glancing back, she saw the tall form of the gurilthenn trying to pull it's knobby hand free from the toppled carriage. It's purple protuberances glowing faintly, looked like grapes growing out of the creature's skin. For the moment it hadn't seen her, but she needed to get out of it's reach quickly. She stifled a groan as she hefted the dead weight of Yalene up and into her arms. 'Uuu... I can't carry her for long.' 

She stumbled away from the carriage, not bothering to check her surroundings. The flitting black and white spots were beginning to creep back into her vision. She bumped into a tree and fell backward. "Oof," Dettella winced as she pushed Yalene off of her. "Where are the guards? Were they already defeated by these things?" 

She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Before she could speak, a voice whispered in her ear. "Hide behind this tree for a moment. I will kill the gurilthenn and retrieve the coin from the carriage." Darrel was kneeling down next to her, his face splashed with a gory mask of blood. He spoke in his deep monotone, "We will continue to the town on foot." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 06



Dettella just mutely nodded, regaining her composure. She stood and dragged Yalene around the wide tree. With a soft sigh, she dropped to her knees. She felt like crying. 'The real world is much worse than I had imagined. I've deluded myself with these fantasies of the exciting life outside the palace...' 

She smacked her cheeks, trying to clear her muddled mind. A garbled shriek rang out from the other side of the tree and she peeked around it. The gurilthenn fell away from the carriage, it's opened neck spraying viscous blood in a stream. Darrel wiped his felnn blade on the creature's leathery hide. He stuck a gauntleted hand into the torn open carriage and pulled out a small chest. He held it under his left arm and sheathed his huge sword on his back. 

"Let us be moving now. It would be troublesome to run into more of these." Darrel said, as emotionless as always as he strode around the tree. He picked up Yalene and tossed her over his shoulder with one hand. "The road is that way." 

Dettella couldn't bring herself to speak, so she just nodded again and began following him. 'I am glad that I don't like heels.' She thought as they walked over the rough terrain. The hard packed earth was difficult enough to walk on in slippers, let alone the high heeled shoes most of the noble ladies seemed to prefer. 

During that night, despite the fact that Dettella had forgone the extravagant footwear, she found herself falling to her hands and knees more often than not. 

——— 

'S-Sam...?' A tentative voice spoke in his head. For a moment, he didn't recognize the voice. 

'Samson.' Was all he said in reply. His mood turned sour. 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 6. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. Also, I'd love to hear you guys' theories on where the story is going. P.S. I post progress updates in my bio incase anyone is curious about where I'm at. 

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 07



Author's Note: 

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

————— 

Sam clung to Letta through his exhaustion. They'd been riding nonstop since they left Eltinn a few hours before, and he was considering having her stop when Samson decided to speak inside his head. 

'I suppose you showing up now saves me the trouble of deciding whether I should call for you or not.' Sam said, his tone unfriendly. 'Why'd you decide to return now?' 

Samson did not reply at first, and Sam felt like he could sense his hesitation somehow. 'W-Well, I... I wanted to apologize to Theodore... You as well, but mostly Theo.' He said. 'I was a coward. I abandoned you both when you needed it most.' 

'Yeah, you did.' 

'I do not expect you to forgive me immediately, but I would like to try to make up for it somehow...' Samson paused. 'And... I would like to reveal my presence to Theodore, if you would let me. I want to tell him I am sorry for not being there.' 

Sam felt his anger at Samson abate a little as he went on. 'That sounds fine to me, I'll allow it. In return, I want you to give me your knowledge on fighting. I'm sure you can put it in my mind somehow.' 

Sam felt Samson hesitate again. 'Well... I can try that, but... Well, I don't think it will work very well. Swordplay is not something that can just be learned like that. I think it would work with something like... like if I did this.' 

Sam felt a tingling in his head for a moment, and then he felt himself get lightheaded. He almost fell off Letta's back, but he managed to steady himself. 'What the hell was that?! What did you do?' He felt something in his mind had changed, but he wasn't really sure what. 

'I put my knowledge of the Elven language in your head.' Samson replied. 'I learned it back at home from our elven maidservant. Mother didn't like it, so I made Shielen teach me.' 

Sam was dumbfounded. 

'Wait, you can understand this right?' Samson asked. 

'Yeah, of course I can.' Sam said, feeling confused. 

'Oh... You do realize I'm speaking elvish right?' 

'Huh? You are?' Now he was really confused. 'You aren't just messing with me, right?' 

'No, I'm actually speaking elvish right now. Try paying close attention to the words I'm saying, maybe that'll make it more apparent.' Samson said, sounding a bit confused himself. 

As soon as he said that, Sam focused on the sounds. 'He really is speaking a different language!' He thought. 'Holy shit... Why is it so hard to make it out, though?' 

'Sam? You alright?' Samson asked, now sounding slightly concerned. 

'Yeah, I'm fine. Just got distracted for a second.' Sam said, shaking out of his reverie. 'Am I speaking elvish now? It's really difficult for me to tell the difference, for some reason.' 

'Yes, you are speaking it. It almost seems as though you can speak it more naturally than I can... That is somewhat depressing, I spent 7 years practicing that.' 

'Strange... It seems as though my mind is just interpreting as English automatically. If I weren't trying, I probably wouldn't even notice. Hell, it's not even 'probably', I definitely wouldn't notice.' 

"Well, anyways. Switch back to... What did you call it, English? Speaking in elvish is taxing for me.' Samson said. 'So, like I was saying before all that, I don't think I could just insert my knowledge on swordplay like I did with elvish. It's too complex, and it is not really something that can be memorized, like a language. It becomes an instinctual thing, and I do not think I could insert my instincts into you.' 

'I see... Well, I suppose that makes sense. Then can you try to teach me the normal way or something?' Sam asked, though he wasn't too disappointed. He'd just learned an entire new language, after all. 'Do you know any other languages?' 

'Ah, I know a little of the southern human language, but not very much. Guess I'll just shove what I know of that in too, couldn't hurt.' Samson said, and Sam felt another tickle in his head. He didn't get as dizzy this time though. 'And to answer your first question, yes, I could try to teach you in the way I was taught. It might be difficult without being able to actually demonstrate the techniques, but I am sure we could figure out a solution.' 

'Alright, sounds good. We can start tomorrow, after I sleep a bit.' Sam said. 'I'll let you apologize to Theodore whenever he wakes up. I don't know if you already pulled this from my mind or whatever, but we're heading to the forest elves. That knowledge on the language is gonna come in real handy, I bet.' 

'Ah, no I haven't dug into your mind since I did that first time. I've realized that it's probably rude to just do that without asking. I know I would not enjoy someone going through my memories, and I would like to repair the damage I've done so far, if I can...' 

Sam nodded, 'Yeah, I appreciate that. There are some things I would rather that other people didn't know. As for the 'damage', I've forgiven you. I don't feel like you're that bad of a dude. Call me naive, but I'll just trust my intuition on that. As long as you don't abandon us again I think it'll all be good.' 

Sam could feel a sort of relieved aura coming from Samson, similar to how he felt his hesitation. 'Thank you, Sam. I'm glad that you are as trusting as you are, even if it is naive. At least for now, in any case.' He said, and Sam could feel him hesitating again. 'I... Well since we were speaking of memories and such, ah... Well, to put it simply, I saw a few very personal things when I went through your head. I promise that I didn't mean to see them! My attempts to avoid it didn't work completely, I suppose. I didn't want to tell you at first, but I feel like I need to.' 

Sam stiffened, 'W-Which do you mean?' 

'Well, some were just you spending time with your father. Kicking around what you call a 'soccer ball', and him teaching you how to cook among them. Those seemed very precious to you, but that's not all I saw...' Samson really seemed to be hesitating now, 'No it's as if he is afraid of continuing.' Sam thought. He felt his blood run cold. 'What did he see?! Why is he afraid?!' His mind was reeling. Now he was afraid of what Samson could have seen, too. 

'I... I-It was some girl... I'm not sure who it was...' Samson said softly. His voice stuttered and quavered. 'It, I... It was so real feeling, it was like it was me who was there. I could feel every emotion. I felt so weak and helpless...' Sam knew what memory he had seen now, and he dreaded the words that would come next. 'She... She held a knife to you and... and touched you... and made you touch her... It happened so many times...' 

"'ENOUGH! STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE! I-I DON'T...! I don't want it...'" Sam clutched his head and screamed the words at the top of his lungs. He cried out loud and mentally at the same time. His next words were nearly silent, 'Please... Please don't say any more... I can't handle it... No! Please, no you're my half sister!' 

He hunched forward over Letta's back and sobbed. He hyperventilated as the memories of his half-sister bubbled up to the forefront of his mind. 'No! No, go away! Don't touch me!' 

"You won't tell anyone about this, or I'll tell my mom that you raped me." Madeline said as she buttoned her blue jeans. 

"B-But I didn't do that, you did!" Sam replied, tears leaking from his right eye which wasn't swollen shut. 

"Do you expect anyone to believe you, over me?" She said, and summoned up a pained face. "'M-Mother, Sam forced me down and threatened to kill me if I didn't have... if I didn't touch him.'" Sam gaped at the facade. If he hadn't known better he might have believed it too. 

"Do you understand now? You have no evidence against me, and I have all the evidence I need right here." She gestured to the fluid on her hands. He felt his dim hopes fade away as he realized his situation... This was worse than any beating... Worse even than when his step-mom broke his arm on the day after his 15th birthday the year before. 

"Sam! Sam, are you alright?!" Fenella asked, her face a mask of confusion. He glanced around, looking through tear blurred eyes. Letta had stopped running and was looking back at him with a strange expression he could only define as worried. 

'What happened? Why did we stop?' He wondered, and realized he was crying and breathing heavily. 'Why am I crying? Did I have a panic attack again?' His brow furrowed. 'Which one wa...' He shuddered and stiffened as the memories flooded back. 'Samson... He saw that time...' 

'Sam, I-I am sorry... I should have kept it to myself...' Samson said, his tone regretful. 

'N-No, it's alright, I... I'm grateful that you told me. Just, just, please don't bring it up again.' Sam replied trying to stop his body's shaking. 

'Yes, I promise.' 

"Sam are you sure you are alright? You are trembling." Fenella asked as she wrapped a thick, wool blanked around him. 

'Pup, you smell of fear and confusion. What is it?' Letta asked, concern clear in her voice. 'I will kill it if you wish me to.' 

'Ah, no it's alright Letta, I just remembered something unpleasant. I'm fine now. Thank you, though.' He replied first to Letta, then Fenella, "I just had a nightmare of sorts. No need to worry." 

"I see. Should we perhaps stop for sleep now?" She asked. 

"Uh, yeah I suppose so." He said and Letta lowered herself to the ground. 

Sam slid off her back, still wrapped in the blanket Fenella put over him. His legs wobbled as he landed. He took his sword off his back and set it on the ground next to Letta, then he unbound Theodore and the chests from her back and lowered them down. Inside the his chest was a thick, multicolored quilt made from a wide array of materials, he decided to use that for himself and covered Theodore with the wool blanket. By the time he laid down on the short grass, Fenella had pulled out another blanket and was resting against Letta's side. 

Sam turned on his side and rested his head on his hand. He remained awake there for a short time, looking out at the trees and tall grass, and trying to forget what had just happened. Samson did not speak anymore that night. 

——— 

Dettella fell to the hard dirt road, her body felt numb. Locks of tangled, blonde curls obscured her vision as she sat there gasping, regretting with every shred of her existence that she'd decided to leave the palace. 'Dealing with assassins has to be better than this, right...?' She sobbed pathetically. What a mess she'd become, just over a day of traveling and she was losing her will. 

'Was I really so spoiled? I thought that if any noble could handle the hardship of a commoner, that I could...' She thought as she wiped away her tears. 'I-I thought that I understood what this life was like... Oh how wrong I was. I've only had to walk through minimally rough terrain for a few hours, and I already feel like giving up.' 

The dawning sun hit her right side, warming her chilled body ever so slightly. She clenched her hands over the ragged holes in her dress, where she'd fallen countless times since leaving the carriage. She could feel the gazes of both Darrel and Yalene looking down on her, one emotionless, the other pitying. Oh how she hated that feeling. If asked before that moment if she hated anything she likely would have said no, but after feeling that pitying gaze on her downturned head... 

'No. No, I refuse to give up now. If I give up now then I have no right to consider myself a woman.' She gripped her knees even tighter. 'No, that's not right either. I am still but a girl to this world. Only after I defeat this weakness inside of me, utterly, will I be a woman.' She nodded, her face stern with determination as she rose to her feet once again. 

When Darrel saw her new expression he nodded with respect. Sniffing, she wiped the last vestiges of dampness from her eyes. "I have renewed my resolve now. Let us be moving again." Yalene glanced at her, worry shadowing her visage, hands clasped tightly over her breasts. Dettella looked back at her, asserting her surety with her eyes. "Well? Let's go, there is no time to waste!" 

Despite her mind's determination to move onward, after another hour of walking Dettella's body seemed just as determined to hold her back. It felt like every fiber of her being was aching with exhaustion. Her feet dragged in the dirt and her back had decided against her will to hunch slightly. 'Perhaps starting to exercise regularly would be beneficial in the case that I am required to trek long distance again...' 

A few hours past dawn they stopped to rest. They must have been walking for close to 50 miles. Well, that's what Dettella would have liked to believe, but she knew reality was probably around 10 to 15. She laid down in the dirt, unconcerned for the state of the expensive dress she wore, and closed her eyes. Darrel told her that she shouldn't let her body cool too much, to prevent cramps, but at that moment she couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. 

——— 

Sam woke to the smell of a fire and started. "Huh? Oh, right. A campfire." He mumbled under his breath and gave a shaky laugh. Fenella was sitting at the edge of a small fire, stirring one of theirs pots. The faint smell of soup wafted over to him now as well, as it heated over the coals. He had a vague feeling that he'd had a bad nightmare, but he couldn't remember a single detail. 

'Uh, Sam, how are you feeling?' He heard Samson ask. 

'Hm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?' Sam replied as he pushed himself up, yawning softly. 

'Ah, well, you know. I just wanted to kinda check after what happened last night and all.' 

'What are you talkin' about?' Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. 

'You... You don't remember?' Samson wondered, sounding puzzled. 

'No, not really. I must've been pretty tired last night, it's all a bit hazy I guess. I was pretty out of it after our conversation about training and such.' 

'...I see. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much. It was mostly just small talk after that.' Samson said, still sounding unsure about something. 'Anyways, when would you like to start on that training?' 

'Hmm... Maybe a bit later, after eating and a bit more traveling. I'm still feeling pretty tired. I don't think I slept very well. Sound good?' Sam answered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

'Yes, that is fine.' 

Fenella turned at the sound of his boots scraping on the ground as he stood up. "Ah, you're up. I just started heating up the soup." 

"Good, I'm feeling pretty hungry." He said, stretching his arms above his head. "Ahh. What time is it?" 

Fenella glanced toward the sun which was now high above the eastern horizon. "11 in the morning, if I were to give a rough estimate." 

'Oh, yeah. I forgot, no watches...' Sam thought and shook his head. "Alright, let's eat quickly then get moving again. The sooner we reach our destination the better." 

Fenella nodded and handed him a bowl of the soup. "Hope you don't mind, but I plan on having you do most of the cooking from now on. I haven't eaten so well since I was back home in Elestren." 

"Uh, sure I don't mind, I guess." He said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I mean, I kinda enjoy cooking anyways, so..." He almost allowed the grin to reach his face. But, the sudden terror at the slip couldn't hide his blush. 

She smiled at him slyly. "So, where do you hail from, Sam? Your accent is one I am unfamiliar with." 

Sam stiffened slightly, and had to force himself to relax. "Ah, I'm from Oregon. It's very, very far from here. You probably haven't heard of it." 

"You're right, I haven't. So how did you end up out here?" Fenella was looking at him with genuine curiosity now. "After you tell me that you'll have to tell me about your homeland, I'm interested in what the distant countries are like." 

"A-Ah, about that..." Sam tried to stall for time to come up with an explanation. Feeling the all too familiar panic creeping in. "Well..." 

"I can see that you're reluctant to answer that," she interjected, "so I won't press you for an answer. You should probably spend time coming up with a believable lie, just in case you run into this kind of question again. Otherwise you'll only arouse suspicion with that flustered bumbling you're doing." 

Sam's flushed with embarrassment again, and he rubbed the back of his head more furiously. "Eheh... Th-Thanks for the advice. At the very least I'll promise you I don't have any sort of ill intentions. I suppose you could say I was sorta stranded here, so I'm just kinda following wherever fate or destiny or whatever takes me." 

"I know that much. I doubt you could hide your ill intent if you had one. You're far too innocent, I think." She said matter-of-factly. "Either that or you're of a skill of deception that I have never seen." 

"Christ... You say it as if it couldn't be more obvious." He replied. 'I really need to get better at hiding my emotions.' He chided himself. 

"Well, it is. You are quite easy to read. Though I suppose that could be attributed to my life experience." Fenella said, looking thoughtful. "Well, due to the existence of magic it's usually difficult to tell from a glance how old someone is after they've reached their 20th year. You still have yet to even reach the body maturity line." 

'She seems to go off on these tangents quite a bit...' Sam thought as Fenella continued talking to herself about how to figure out a mage's age by their behavior. He just sat, eating his soup, and listening as she went on and on. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but how old are you Fenella?" 

"Oh dear... Sam, don't you know that is a taboo question to ask a lady?" She said with a wry grin. "Well, let us just say that I am over 20 and under 100." 

Sam sighed, she seemed to be enjoying teasing him. "Whatever. We should get moving since we're done eating now." Seeing she was eying the ladle that sat in the steaming pot, he said, "You are done, aren't you?" 

"Oh alright, yes I suppose I am satisfied for now." She said, hearing his insinuation. Standing up, she started folding up her blankets and stuffing them into her open chest. 

Sam folded up his own quilt and fit it into his chest, along with the resealed pot, metal bowls and silverware. Inside the chest he saw a cloak that had been given to him alongside the clothes. He'd tried it on, but he ended up not wearing it. He'd felt quite foolish wearing it. Perhaps he would warm up to the idea later, but for now it would remain in his chest. 

After loading up Letta's back, they set off, continuing north. Letta had told him they would probably start running into more wooded area soon, and he was already starting to notice the tall coniferous trees bunching together more and more. 'How much longer you think it'll be 'til we get to this elven civilization?' 

'We will likely discover one of their outermost villages within the next few days, but based on my rather limited knowledge on their magic, we will need to go to one of their larger cities to get Theodore the proper treatment. It will require a team of healers to regrow his legs.' Letta replied. 

'Speaking of legs, how are yours doing now?' Sam asked. 

'They are fine now. They will be healed before we reach the first village.' 

'Wow, really? That's good. I guess what Lorry said was right.' 

'Yes.' 





Bound in Spirals Ch. 07



Sam remained silent for a while, wondering just how vast the number of uses for magic was. Eventually, they stopped again when they found a small, abandoned house in a copse of enormous trees that closely resembled the redwoods Sam had seen back in his world. Their thick trunks nearly 15 feet in diameter, were covered in dark, reddish brown bark. 

They remained at the dilapidated hut for the rest of the day, and Sam decided to start his training with Samson. 

'You already seem to have a certain affinity for the sword that I didn't have when I began my own training.' Samson had told him as he drew the dark gray sword from it's sheath on his back. 'Alright, I've been thinking about it since last night, and I believe I've found a good way to start. I'll take temporary control of your body and show you the technique, so you can get the feel of it, then you try it yourself.' 

'Okay, that sounds pretty good.' Sam replied. 'Go ahead and take control.' 

And with that, Sam spent the rest of the day practicing his stance and footwork, with Samson pointing out his errors and guiding his hand on occasion. For the most part he didn't even swing the sword, just learned how to move with it. 

'Based on what I can tell, your style would probably be best suited for a highly mobile, lightly armored type. So, knowing how to move around quickly and efficiently will be most important for you, striking techniques will come next.' Samson told him as he headed back to the hut, his T-shirt damp with sweat. 

'I see...' Sam said, his hands already aching to feel the sword in them again. He was surprised to find how invigorating it was to train with the blade. Perhaps it was due to the haziness of the memory of the one actual fight he'd been in, but he couldn't remember it being so exciting. 

He found himself thirsting for more, the urge more powerful even than the one he got after finishing a good book, when the sequel had yet to come out. That was the only thing he had to compare it to, he'd been dispassionate for most things after his father died and the abuse began. In time, he would come to realize that the only thing on par with his current lust for the sword, was the lust that most men felt for women, the first hint to which came a short time later. 

After a minute of silent walking, Samson asked him a question, his voice tentative. 'Sam, I was just wondering, er... How do I say this? Well, do you perhaps have a proclivity for the same sex?' 

Sam was bewildered by the question. 'Are you asking if I'm gay?' 

'If that is how they refer to homosexuals in your world, then yes.' Samson replied, still sounding somewhat hesitant, but regaining composure. 

'Huh... No, I don't really think so. I've always found women to be attractive. What made you think that?' 

'Ah, well it's just that you've had a couple of women, one of them particularly beautiful, trying to gain your attention, and you just rebuffed their efforts. I thought that perhaps you were just dense in that department, but it seemed like you noticed what they were about.' Samson said simply. 

'Oh, uh, yes. Well I did notice them. I suppose Lorry's sister, Darlie, is the main one you're referring to.' Sam said, then had to examine his own thoughts more closely. 'I honestly don't know why. Maybe I just didn't know them well enough or something.' 

'Blight, man! I would have jumped at the chance to have a night with her. You don't have to know a woman well to want to have sex with her.' Samson said, sounding indignant now. 

'I don't know, I guess I'm just different or something. I've never really felt much of a desire for sex, not after...' Sam said, his tone becoming cold as he went on. '...I don't really remember why I changed, actually. I think I might have used to have that desire, maybe. Back when I was 13 or 14 I think, I don't really remember.' 

Samson didn't say anything, and Sam felt a sense of worry coming from him. Sam frowned, 'Is it really that strange?' 

'Well, it's certainly unusual... Ah, well perhaps it doesn't really matter. Just forget I asked.' Samson finally said, but despite his words Sam knew he was deeply worried about something. 

Finally, he saw the small house. A silhouette of smoke rose from the brick chimney, darkened by the deep purple of the sky as the sun fell below the horizon. He saw Letta sleeping behind the house, her huge form wrapped around it, giant nostrils flaring as she breathed. He pulled open the fractured wood door, it's red color dirtied from lack of care. 

Inside, Fenella had cleaned the dust from the wood floor and lain their blankets upon it. Theodore was snoring softly, half covered by a blanket. Fenella turned as he entered, and she frowned. 

"Oi, you need to bathe." She said and stood. "There's a stream a little way behind the house, go there and clean up first." She started rummaging in his chest and pulled out the second set of pants, socks and shirt that Lorry had bought him, along with the shirt he'd received at the army's camp. "Wash your dirty clothes while you're at it, you can hang them out to dry overnight." 

Sam was shoved back out the door without getting the chance to say a word. For a moment he was so stunned that he just stood there, but eventually he just shook his head and rounded the small brick house. As he walked, he gazed about at the magnificent trees, their long branches covered in dark needles, and the pungent smell of sap emanating from all over. 

'Samson, what was your childhood like?' Sam asked, not sure why the question had come to mind. 'And your family, what are they like?' 

It took him a while to reply, '...Well, I suppose my childhood was rather mundane. My family is of minor nobility, so it was relatively easy. Not rich enough to be in danger, but enough to live well. We have a manor on the outskirts of the inner city, which my sister will inherit when my mother passes. 

'My father is a rather weak willed man. Small of stature, with a rather mouse-like appearance. He is more of a scholar than anything else, he does the finances for the house. Very kind, if rather aloof at times.' He said, his tone of fond remembrance, but his tone turned sour as he spoke of his mother. 'I suppose his meekness was why my mother chose him over the many other suitors. She has a predilection for people who are easy to control, which is why she never liked me.' 

Sam was listening closely, and forgot to pay attention to where he was walking. "Ow." He said as he pushed himself off the ground. He turned to look at what he'd tripped over, "Whoa, what the hell is that?!" 

The thing he'd tripped over was a big crustacean like creature, with a large, round shell on it's back. The shell was nearly identical to the numerous rocks he'd seen around the small forest, it's surface a grayish-brown, with small patches of dark green moss dotted across the surface. Glossy black legs peeked out from beneath the shell, and tiny claws poked out, picking pieces of plant life from the ground. 

'Huh? Oh that thing? That's a stone widdel.' Samson said. 'They're harmless. Dumber than a tate, they are. They just crawl around, eating grass and other fodder off the floor.' 

'Ah, alright.' Sam said, turning back to his path. He glanced back again at the odd creature, remembering seeing something similar back in the forest where he met Letta, but he'd been running away at the time. 'Strange little thing.' 

'Yes. Anyways, as I was saying, my mother and I never got along too well. She had planned to train me to replace my father when my sister took the house, but I was too stubborn. I'm more like her than I'm wont to admit. It got worse when she realized how attached my sister had become to me, and she tried to marry me off many times after that. None of the women liked me much, except in bed. Too impertinent, I suppose, and they only like that when it's roleplaying. 

'And because of my failure to be husband material, my sister became more attached to me and my mother wasn't able to create the replacement she wanted for herself. My sister has always been too kind anyway, even if I wasn't around I doubt she would've changed much. And so, she ended up following me to the army when I was drafted. Not particularly strong, but she's a good archer.' 

'I beg to differ.' Sam said, incredulity clear in his tone. 'That beating she gave me was neither kind nor weak. I can still feel it.' He felt an echo of pain in his crotch, and he winced. 

'Well, aren't people supposed to be stronger when angry or something? Gah, that doesn't matter right now. You'll understand if you meet her again, if she managed to make it out of that place alive.' Samson said, sounding worried. 'Anyways, other than my mother's antics my life was plain. I went to the SAMM, Stralden's Academy for Male Mages, was trained in the sword and bow, and learned how to manage money, among other things.' 

'Huh, interesting.' Sam said simply, truly intrigued by the strange intricacies of this world. Then he decided to tease Samson, 'Maybe I can get your sister to marry me to make up for the traumatizing damage she's done to me. She might even prefer it since I look like you.' He said, with a chuckle. 

'Hey pal, my sister's off limits. You can stick to your own sister.' Samson replied, his tone was lighthearted, but he realized his mistake too late. 

Sam just laughed, 'What are you talking about? Neither of my sisters are fond of me, not like yours. Well, Janine doesn't hate me, I guess, but Madeline would kill me if she could get away with it.' 

Samson was silent after, and Sam again was bewildered by this feeling of worry that came from him. 'What's that about?' He wondered. 

'Ah, there's the stream Fenella was talking about. Now give me some privacy to bathe.' He told Samson, and he felt his presence become distant. He nodded and began stripping down. He looked at his boxer briefs fondly, which he thought would normally be a bit strange, but they were the last thing he had left from his world. 

He chose to clean his clothes first, so he didn't have to be cold and wet when he did it. After he'd cleaned them as best he could, he wrung them out and laid them over a boulder next to the large stream. Then, he gingerly toed the water, shivering at the chilling coldness. 'Shit, that's cold!' 

He debated just rinsing out his hair and pretending he'd bathed, but decided against it. "Fuck it." He said and jumped into the deepest part of the stream. The water came up past his bellybutton and he let out a rather feminine squeal as his balls shriveled up from the icy cold. 

Initially, he was scrubbing frantically, trying to get it over with, but as he got accustomed to the temperature he relaxed a bit. He looked down at his body, marveling at the drastic change it had made in just a week. His body now had a some definition to it, two rows of faint bumps now appearing on his abdomen being the most obvious difference. 

He ran his fingers over the numerous scars he'd accumulated over the years since his father's passing. A large discolored patch marked where his stepmother had poured bacon grease on his shoulder. Another scar, long and jagged, ran across his sternum, bringing up the memory of her hitting him over the head with an empty wine bottle. Then, after having knocked him out she carved the reminder with the fragments of glass. He sighed, 'I wonder what I'd be like now if Dad had never married her... Probably more normal. Less scarred, that's for sure.' 

He shook his head and finished scrubbing his body, shivering as he stepped from the stream. "Brrr!" He hastily pulled on his damp underwear, then dressed in the clean clothes. He rebound his sword to his back, and began the short walk back to the house, yearning for the warmth of the fire. 

——— 

"I see the village just ahead, princess." Darrel said, his voice as inexpressive as usual. "We shall secure lodging for the night, then purchase a new carriage come morning. That should be enough time for the remaining members of the guard to catch up." 

Dettella was first jubilant at the sight of the village, then baffled at Darrel's unusually large amount of words. Her joy returned a moment later, and she felt like crying. She had made it. She had proven to herself that she could beat the weakness inside her. 'I have a long way to go, but I can do it.' She thought, her jaw set in determination. 

Yalene, who looked exhausted, brightened at the news. "Milady! We will find an inn soon, then we can clean you up and all will be good. No more need to strain yourself." 

Dettella's smile in return was strained, "That sounds wonderful." She said, not trusting herself to continue further. 'Damn you Yalene, you stupid stone widdel. You're jus... ' she gave herself a mental jerk, 'My, what am I thinking?! Has my tongue groan so coarse already?' scolding herself with a minute shake of her head. 

Darrel's eyes flashed as he saw her face as she looked at Yalene. 'Was that... annoyance? Frustration? No... could that have been amusement?' Dettella turned her glare on him and that look crossed his eyes once again. 'He finds this humorous! Perhaps he isn't so flinty after all. Oh you must find this so hilarious you blighted brute, laughing away at me on the inside... Ah! I'm doing it again! I really am at my limit, aren't I...' She shook her head, trying to clear it of the rude thoughts. 'Oh how nice it will be to sleep in a bed at the inn. So soft and warm, I'll sleep better than I have in years.' This time, her smile was genuine as her mind shifted. 'And we can eat a delicious breakfast in the morning, then we will continue on to the elves. No more walking.' 

Dettella gripped her dress in both hands and increased her pace, desperate for that comfortable bed. Nearly all the pangs and small hurts from her body forgotten. 

——— 

Sam glanced toward the broken window at the sound of Letta's loud yawn. 'I am going to go hunt. I will return soon.' She said. The wall of dark fur disappeared from the window and Sam heard the soft thumps of her paws as she trotted off. He sat with his back to the brick wall next to the fireplace, eating a hearty bowl containing the last of the soup. Fenella had already fallen asleep by the time he had returned from his bath in the stream, curled up under her blanket next to Theodore. 

'I'll have to make more food now that the soup's gone.' He scratched his head, 'Did we even pack anymore food?' Worried, he checked Fenella's chest and was relieved to see a small assortment of vegetables and spices, along with the noodles he'd used for the soup. 'I guess she had better foresight than I did...' 

He sat back down on his blanket and crossed his legs, grimacing at the soreness already plaguing his body. Surprisingly, he wasn't upset by that, it meant he was already making progress. Besides, it actually felt pretty good. Before coming to this world he'd never been particularly athletic, he didn't have much time for it with school and a job to worry about, but he decided he would change that if he managed to make it back. 

'Do I really want to go back at this point...?' He wondered, thinking of the sword which sat a few feet away, leaning against the cracked wall of brick. He just shook his head, nothing good would come from pondering that. He didn't even know if there was a way he could get back. 

After finishing the soup, he set the bowl aside and laid down to sleep. His aching body wishing he had something other than old, moldy wood to sleep on. On a whim, he said, 'Hey, Samson?' 

'Hm? What is it?' Came the reply. 

'What do you do when I sleep? Can you sleep too?' He asked. 

'Ah, no I just sort of remain here in the dark, mostly I just try to find the perimeter of your magic pool. Why do you ask so suddenly?' 

'I dunno, just curious. Can you still hear what I hear or anything?' 

'Yes, I can. Do you remember when I told you to wake up when that enemy party raided the fleeing group from the army, right before you met Letta? I was able to hear the shouting and the carriages leaving.' Samson said. 

'Oh yeah, that's right! I completely forgot about that.' A grimace forming as the events once again played through his mind. 

'So yes, when you're asleep I can still feel your surroundings a bit. It's faint, but still there, same as when you're awake.' 

'That's pretty useful.' Sam said after a moment of thought, 'Can you sorta keep watch for me while I sleep? If necessary you could even take over control, it's probably fairly easy if I'm asleep.' 

'Yes, that's what I planned on doing, though I hadn't thought of taking over. It's a good idea, since your mind would be clouded for a time.' Samson said, sounding thoughtful. 'I have some ideas regarding this now, but I'll have to think over them.' 

'Uh huh, sounds good...' Sam replied, yawning tiredly. 'Well, good night. We can discuss more tomorrow.' 

'Mhm, I'll wake you if I hear anything unusual.' 

——— 

Samson remained silent, his mind ensconced in the intricate, comforting spirals. He traced along the vast expanse of that darkness, only lit by the iridescent patterns. A short time later, he heard Sam's breathing relax into a steady rhythm, the sound muffled as though hearing it through a thin wall. 

He sighed, wondering how to best help his new, overly trusting friend. 'He forgives too quickly. Even I haven't forgiven myself yet...' 

While lost in thought, a soft thumping sound came through the bond. Samson was immediately alert, ready to wake Sam in a second and take over. A contented growl followed the sound a short while later, and he relaxed, realizing it was just that argwolf. 

'Damn you, scaring me like that...' Samson thought, his mind returning to Sam again a moment after. 'I wonder why he's lost those memories... Is he just denying it or does he really not remember? If it's the latter, should I confront him about it?' 

He spent the majority of that night pondering that dilemma, uncertain of the best course. 'I'm not getting anywhere with this... I will just have to wait and see. Perhaps it is best that he just forgets that anyway.' He shuddered at the few flashes of memory that he'd glimpsed. 

Samson tried to shake his no longer existent head, and waited patiently for morning. 

——— 

Sam blinked. 'Where am I?' He wondered for a moment as he glanced around. 'The small house in the forest. Right.' 

"Time to get moving again. We shouldn't tarry here long, your friend is still in a precarious state at the moment." Fenella said over her shoulder as she saw that he was awake. "I can only keep the wound prepared for healing so long." 

"Alright, then we'll leave right now." He said, standing and folding up the quilt. 

After finishing packing most of their supplies, Sam ran back to the stream where he cleaned out the dirtied food wares and, filled the green leather canteen he'd found at the bottom of his chest. He'd boil it later when they stopped again. As he jogged back, he saw another of the stone widdels, crawling at it's slow pace. 

He slowed his stride as he saw the house a minute later, Letta stretching her long legs. Sam noted the much reduced scabbing where the slime had chewed away at her and felt a rush of relief. He'd been worried they were pushing her too hard and that she was hiding her pain, but it appeared she had not feigned it. 

'We'll leave in just a few minutes, so be ready.' He told her. 

'Yes, master.' She replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm, and gave him a wolfish grin. 

He chuckled as he pushed open the door to see Fenella trying to pull Theodore's slack form toward the door. "Hey, uh, leave that to me. You just take care of your chest." He told her as he opened his chest and replaced the items inside. 

She gave him an oddly stubborn look, but conceded after a moment with a sullen sigh. 'She's pretty strange...' He thought as he hefted his chest. 'At times she's completely expressionless, then randomly shows hints of emotion.' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 07



They finished loading up their supplies, and Sam quickly went back inside to grab one last thing. His sword was where he'd left it the night before, leaning against the brick wall. He'd been hesitant to touch it since then, not trusting himself to keep it sheathed. Even now, as he lifted the lightweight blade, he felt an itch to pull it out and practice. The urge so abnormally fierce that he feared it. His fingers twitched slightly as he bound it across his back. 

'What is this feeling?' Sam wondered. 'Why am I so urgent to use this sword? Is it because I'm finally learning how to use it?' He didn't have an answer to the question, but he knew that it had felt good in his hand. Better than it had before. He mounted Letta, and they set off. 

——— 

Dettella strode toward the new carriage, feeling refreshed after a good night of rest and a warm breakfast. The new cronnit dress she wore was rough against her skin, but the cronnit fabric was much sturdier than silk. It felt more appropriate for travel to her and she welcomed the humble nature of it. She gave an elegant wave in both farewell and thanks to the, now much wealthier, innkeeper. The plump woman gave several hasty, unpracticed bows. 

Turning back to the cart, she nodded to Darrel and the two guardsmen who had found their way to the village together in the night. Yalene held open the unpainted wooden door for her to enter with an urgent smile, as if she were afraid something would happen to Dettella in the few steps it took to reach it. 

She ducked into the coach, giving a small smile of gratitude to Yalene. Inside, the benches were outfitted with heavily padded beige cushions, and the light colored wood was polished to the point of gleaming. The ceiling was decorated with ornately carved patterns, imitating those of a bind mage's forms, almost to perfection. 

Dettella sat down, looking about the interior in wonder. "This is the most finely crafted carriage I have ever seen." She muttered, running her fingers over the floral design on the cushions. Shaking herself from her reverie, she straightened the stiff, violet dress over her knees. "Yalene, who made this? I must know, for I will have to recommend them." 

"Ah, yes milady, this was made by the master craftsman here. I believe his name was Rikaerdd Fosder. It had been planned for the Lady governing this land, but he was happy to have you receive it instead." She answered. 

"One man did all this himself?" Dettella asked, glancing about the intricate work. 

"Well, he designed it himself and did all of the woodwork, but the glass windows and something in the wheels he called 'suspension' along with the metalwork were made by other hands. Supposedly, he is the most skilled sever mage in the village and is renowned for his handiwork." 

"My word... I assume that he was paid well for this?" 

"Ah, well, about that... He refused any offers of compensation we gave, saying that he was glad that his work would go to someone who would appreciate it. Apparently talk of your kindness reaches even this far from the capital, milady." Yalene said with a joyous smile. 

"Well, if we return this way I will have to meet this man and thank him for his generosity personally." Dettella said as the winnem gave a squawk outside and the carriage began rolling. "These glass windows, will they not break from the jouncing?" 

"Master Rikaerdd said that they would not. Something about this 'suspension' device that he mentioned would prevent their breaking from the bumps. I believe it must be an invention from wherever he originated." Yalene answered. 

"Did he mention that he was from another land?" 

"Ah, no he just had an unfamiliar accent, so I made an assumption. It was very crisp and overly enunciated, very strange." Yalene said, her brow furrowing in hard thought, something her mind wasn't used to. 

"Well then I shall have to ask him about it when I meet him eventually." Dettella said, still marveling at the windows. "Do these open somehow?" 

"Oh, yes, the craftsman showed me how. See this latch right here? You just push it up and then the frame opens inward." Yalene said, demonstrating how to open the window. 

'Rather similar to a miniature door.' Dettella thought, knowing right then that she'd have to inspect the carriage for more of these marvelous designs. 'This man really is quite talented.' Then, she looked away from the window, where the last of the buildings of the village were disappearing behind them. 

Touching the ceiling with one hand, she summoned forth her magic. The argent, curling patterns blooming in her mind. She let some of the power pour out from her fingertips, flowing into the carved patterns like water in a stream. In a few seconds, the ceiling was covered with a web of sparkling silver, and she let out a small gasp. The light reflected off the polished wood in such a way to make it look as though it had been bathed in a liquid moon. 

Yalene looked around in utter astonishment. "Milady! What is this?" Her eyes were wide, looking at the beautiful color that had washed over the inside of the carriage. 

"I just set a bind in the patterns on the ceiling..." Dettella muttered. 

"You did? But then why can I see the glow so easily? How much power must you have used to create such a light?" Yalene wondered. 

"Hardly any at all. I was just curious to see what it would look like. What do you see?" Dettella said, her voice still soft. 

"It's like... It looks like the reflection of the moon off a lake..." Yalene said, and Dettella was amazed by the accuracy of her words. 

"To me, it looks like I gave the craftsman too little credit..." She said. 

——— 

They stopped again as the sun began to descend below the western horizon. The terrain had become covered with copious amounts of the enormous redwood-like trees at a quickly increasing rate, and Sam was certain that they would find the first village by the next day. 

Letta had followed the stream that flowed behind the small house until it reached a large, forked river. They had made camp a short walk from the river in a small meadow that resided in a clearing of the trees, just large enough for Letta to curl up, and the others to lay against her side. 

After stopping, Sam had gone out a distance away and began his practice with the sword. Samson continued to coach him as he trained, teaching him more and more complex movements which Sam soaked up with alacrity. He was eventually forced to stop several hours later, as the night darkened to the point that he couldn't see his own hands. 

'Damn...' He thought as he begrudgingly sheathed the sword on his back, wishing he had more time. 

'It's dangerous to move around carelessly in the dark like this,' Samson cautioned, feeling Sam's reluctance, 'You could...' 

His words were cut off as Sam was sent sprawling by a heavy impact in his side. He was groaning and straining to see what had hit him, when he felt powerful jaws crunch down on his right leg. Sam's scream was muffled by his gritted teeth. He felt his knee break under the immense pressure of the creature's mouth, but it didn't tear his leg off. It began dragging him over the rough forest floor, at a rapid pace. His mind dulled as the back of his head was slammed against an exposed rock. 

'...Sam...!' He heard Samson calling for him, but he couldn't make out his words. '...am...orm...!' Distantly, he felt Samson try to take over, but he resisted, not knowing why he did. 'Sam...! Magi...! Use yo...gic!' 

He felt his left arm break as it was caught in something, but he barely even felt the pain. The ground's change from leafy forest floor to jagged stone went nearly as unnoticed. Sharp rocks bit into his back, tearing his shirt and leaving deep lacerations. Sam's mind cleared somewhat as he felt the movement stop. The sudden shock of the pain reaching his brain was enough to clear it completely. 

His agonized scream echoed into the cave, and a few whimpering cries of alarm followed it. 'Sam! Use your magic you blighted fool! Run! You need to run!' 

Sam's acknowledgment came in the form of the piercing light of his power as it seemed to burst from his skin. It snapped his broken bones into place with painful speed, and stitched his wounds like they'd never happened. In his panic, Sam didn't get to see who his attacker was as he leapt to his feet and sprinted for the opening to the cave. Gray stone clacked and crunched underneath his boots as he ran, his path lit by the writhing spirals that flitted across his bare arms and face. 

'DUCK!!' Samson screamed into his head, and Sam complied without question. The large, furry creature's claws scraped across the ground as it landed in front of him. 

Sam pulled his sword and moved without hesitation, dodging as the obscured figure slashed at him with a razor tipped paw. His sword struck down, rending deep into the creature's muscled foreleg. It reeled back, yelping in pain as Sam moved forward again, preparing to attack again. 

His mind was so focused on his front, that he didn't move quickly enough at Samson's next warning. 'Behind you!' 

His body moved, but not enough to avoid the brutal strike to his head. Stumbling to his knees, Sam's sword clattered from his hand and out of reach. Before he could retaliate, he found himself pinned to the ground by the heavy beast, unable to move. His vision began to fade, and he felt his mind drift into the sea of infinite patterns as he lost consciousness... 

He awoke a short time later, finding his head pounding and his limbs bound by rope. He squinted against the bright lamplight. The magic welled up in him and he felt his head stop it's painful thumping. Blinking, he glanced around at his captors with a gaze surprisingly devoid of fear. Seven people surrounded him in a half circle, three women and four children. 

The women glared at him with unbridled contempt, while most of the children just looked at him with wide, curious eyes. One girl, who appeared to be slightly older than the others seemed to be trying to mimic the look the women gave him. 'They're all so short.' He thought, looking down at them. 'They can't be more than five feet tall at most.' 

Then, he saw the pointed ears that peeked from the assortment of brightly colored hair. "Ah, that explains it." He said aloud, nodding his head. "I guess elves aren't very fond of humans, eh? I shouldn't be surprised, considering how much humans seem to hate themselves. Why'd you decide to kidnap me like that?" 

The adults sneered at him and turned to each other. The girl glanced at them and immediately gave an almost perfect imitation of their sneer, the only problem was that she didn't quite seem to understand what they were angry about. 

"What do we do with him? If we just kill him now that argwolf will die with him." One of the women said, her platinum blonde hair seeming to shake with her hatred. It took him a moment to realize they weren't speaking English, so he quickly concealed the widening of his eyes. 

"Perhaps we should bring him back to the empress, she would surely give us great rewards for bringing this hostile barbarian. They will certainly be able to torture out what the savages plan to do." Replied the one to the right, her hair the same shade as the other. 

'Old enough to understand what those mean...' Sam quickly realized that his hope for survival lay with the three smaller children, noting how they seemed to stiffen at the mention of killing and torture. Even the older one seemed to pale slightly, though it was hard to tell with how pale their skin already was. 

"Hey, do you speak Engl- er human?" He asked, turning his eyes to the children. When they just looked at him with the same curiosity, now mixed with confusion, he knew that he'd have to give up his hope to keep his knowledge of their language secret. He sighed, "I just want help, that's all I came here for." 

All seven elves' eyes widened, in surprise, alarm, and happiness. The three children smiled, then they started laughing joyfully. "You can talk to us? Yes, Yes we want to help you!" All three started immediately clamoring for a turn to talk to him. "You're the tallest person ever!" "Momma won't really kill you, right momma?" "Yes, that is bad!" 

The oldest girl seemed conflicted as to whether to join the commotion, or to be angry at him with the adults. Finally she said, "But you hurt Belleby! You attacked him!" She looked to be on the verge of tears. 

Sam deduced that 'Belleby' was the creature who had hauled him all the way to the cave. "Ah, well I thought I was going to be killed by him, so I was just defending myself. After all, he was the one who attacked me first. But if you want me to, I can fix him right now. Since it's only a cut, I can mend it." 

As if on cue, the hairy creature lumbered into the firelight. It was the most bizarre animal Sam had ever seen, and considering what he'd come across since arriving in this land, it had to be very strange indeed. It's face was broad and it's mouth was wide, a few inch long teeth peeking from below the upper lip. Bright orange eyes looked around with a submissive cast, it's head lowered. The body that the head was connected to was the strangest part. 

Six muscular legs held it aloft, and it's hand-like paws clacked softly on the ground, the long claws extending several inches from each finger. It had a small nub of a tail which twitched nervously as it glanced at the elves around him, as if asking for permission. The long, red-green fur seemed to relax as the girl nodded tentatively. 

Belleby looked at Sam with expectant eyes, and at that moment he felt a little bad for injuring him. He'd just been doing what they told him to. Even though he wasn't a familiar, Belleby was intelligent. Sam could see it in those black, ringed eyes in the same way he could see it in Letta's. 

"Um, alright, don't bite me or anything. Okay?" Sam said reaching out his hands which were starting to chafe against their bindings. 

His magic instantly lit the cave with a light even brighter than that of the lamp, and he felt the soreness in his wrists fade. He placed his hands on Belleby's downcast head, and pushed his magic into him. The bright, gold and silver swirls tracked across his body, finding the deep wound which still poured blood. Red streams flew into the wound from across the cave, and it clasped shut. When it was done, Belleby began to pull away, but Sam saw an opportunity in that moment. 

He quickly set a binding from his hand to the creature's head, keeping it there. 'Samson! Where are you?' He called into his mind, receiving no response. 'Damn, did he abandon me again? No, he was there earlier... Fuck, no time. I'll just have to do it myself.' Pulling forth an immense amount of magic, Sam began weaving the bind. He hoped he'd remembered the feeling of the bind correctly, otherwise this could go very wrong. 

A web of power spread across the animal, pulsating rapidly. Sam found it hard to concentrate as a torrent of emotions and garbled thoughts were thrust into his mind, but still he pushed on. Fear, of punishment, death, and abandonment all at once seemed to be on the forefront of Belleby's thoughts. 

'Damn this is harder than I thought it would be.' His jaw set in concentration, Sam let out the last vestige of the necessary power. The net of patterns began to coalesce toward Belleby's head, and it set itself into his fur, leaving a whorl of lighter color. 

He gasped, and his body sagged to his knees. It worked. Sam smiled as he released the bindings of Belleby's head, looking up at the row of astonished faces. Apparently, they'd been too stunned to realize what he'd been doing. The adults expressions quickly turned to rage, while the youngest children stared on in wonder. 

"You bastard! I'll flay you right here!" Said the only adult who hadn't spoken yet, her orange hair seeming to rise up. 

Sam just laughed. He didn't know how he could laugh at a time like this, but he found it humorous despite that feeling. 'Am I becoming an adrenaline junky or something?' He wondered. 

"What did you do to Belleby?" The oldest girl asked, all pretense of anger had left her face to be replaced by fear. "Did you hurt him? What was that web for?" 

Sam gave his best amiable grin, which was hard as he wasn't used to smiling so much. "Oh, he'll be fine. As long as I'm not hurt, that is. All I did was give myself an insurance policy of sorts." 

Inside, he wondered, 'What the hell is wrong with me...? How am I enjoying this?' 

"You are a filthy, scheming wretch! You blighted winnem fucker, undo that magic right now or I'll kill you!" The blonde haired elf on his left shouted. 

Sam laughed again. "I wouldn't recommend that, you'll just be killing Belleby along with me." 

"Please! What did you do to Belleby?!" The oldest girl pleaded, her sky-blue hair seeming to quiver. 

Sam turned to her,"Oh, right. He's my new familiar." 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 7. I really liked this chapter for some reason, not sure why. Maybe it's because 7 is my favorite number. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. What I'm getting at is that I really like to talk to people because I'm a sad, lonely man. P.S. I post progress updates in my bio incase anyone is curious about where I'm at. 

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 08



Author's Note: 

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

This chapter is a little bit longer than the previous ones. Enjoy! 

————— 

Sam turned his gaze from the elves to look at the bewildered creature in front of him. Belleby looked up at him, orange eyes full of fear and confusion. 'Sorry buddy, but I have to take advantage of you so I can survive. Don't worry though, I'll let you go as soon as I'm safely back with my friends. My friend is in dire need of healing so I can't take chances here.' At his words, Belleby just tilted his head in confusion. 'Ah, right.' Sam thought, and repeated his words in elvish. 

'O-Okay, I understand...' Belleby replied, his voice surprisingly small. 

Sam nodded and turned back to the elves. "Belleby says he understands my wishes, and will comply." 

The blonde haired elf on the right looked at Belleby with disgust. "Traitorous beast, we'll just kill you with him." 

Belleby shrunk back as the woman strode toward him purposefully. He trembled as he cowered down against the cave wall. All four children rushed forward at once. They all began babbling in a frenzy. 

"Momma stop!" "You mustn't hurt him, auntie!" "Auntie, I will never talk to you again!" 

The oldest jumped in front of the woman and barred her way, her jaw set in a stubborn expression. "If you do not stop, then I will run away and never come back! You will lose your heir and I will go to live with the humans!" 

At that, the woman finally stopped, a look of horror coming over her face. "Feima, you wouldn't dare!" 

"Yes, I would! So you better stop and listen to what he says. Okay?" Feima said, her tone coming off more as petulant than defiant, but it would serve his purposes well enough. 

"Fine, we will listen. But don't blame me if he kills the stupid beast anyway." Feima's mother said through clenched teeth. 

Sam quickly decided to go with the kind and amicable route, rather than the threatening one. The latter seemed more likely to bite him in the ass down the road. These elves already thought humans were savages as it was, no reason to make them feel that they were right. 

"I only wish to get my friend the healing he needs. I don't mean to cause any trouble, I will happily release Belleby once I am assured of my friend's safety." Sam said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "My friend lost both his legs to a slime in the misty plains down south. So, I brought him here, knowing the elves were the only people that could help." 

Feima and the other children looked to the adults, there eyes gleaming with worry at how they would answer. The adults glanced at each other, then looked back to Sam. They were clearly still angry at the turn of the situation, but they'd calmed down considerably. 

Feima's mother took the lead and spoke, "That will require a team of A class mages, and the closest place you'll find that is the capital. The cost would be cheaper if you went to Fienedel, but it is considerably further away." 

Sam thought, watching Belleby as he stepped to Feima and nuzzled her hand with his snout. 'Hey, you got any tips for, er... negotiations? Like how to make them not hate me or anything?' He asked Belleby. 

'I-I'm not sure... My memory is a bit fuzzy for anything beyond when you made me a familiar. Mostly just thoughts of playing, I think.' Belleby said, sounding confused. 

'Ah, that's probably because your thought capacity is increased when you become a familiar. It will remain that way after I release you as well.' Sam replied somewhat absently as he turned back to Feima's mother. "I will take your word for it. Er, do you mind taking these ropes off of me?" 

"You can keep the ropes on. We will bring you to the city as is, so we know you won't just set your beast on us once you're safe." She replied. 

"But that'll take way too long!" Sam insisted, suddenly worried. 

"No, if we take the underground road we can get there just as fast as your argwolf could." She said disdainfully. "We will bring your friend with us, your pet can wait here for your return." 

Sam sighed. 'This is becoming a real pain in the ass...' "Very well, but I'll need to get my friend, along with my possessions." 

"We will retrieve your friend, after you send your argwolf away first." She replied suspiciously. 

"Fine." Sam said and tried to contact Letta. It appeared that she was either too far away, or asleep. "I will have to get closer to be able talk to her." 

The woman's grunt in response seemed to neither accept nor deny. "We will remain here for the night and go in the morning." The other adults nodded in agreement and started setting out bedrolls. 

Sam just watched silently as the children started wrestling around with Belleby, seemingly unaware of their parents' tension. One of them had found his sword and was swinging it around clumsily. 

"Graenil! Put that down!" One of the blonde haired adults said. Sam was having a hard time telling the two apart, they could've been twins. She snatched the sword from the little boy's hands and glowered at Sam, as if he'd given it to him to play with. 

Sam shifted around and released his sheathe's binding from his back. It clunked onto the rocky floor. "You can put it in that." He said, nodding to the black leather sheath. 

The woman grabbed it, watching him with wary eyes. "Alright, time for sleep you bunch, you've already stayed up long enough." She said as she fumbled the sword into the sheath. The children groaned and began to protest, but the woman just ignored them. "Who'll take the first watch?" 

"Can I do it?" Feima asked eagerly, looking to her mother for an answer. 

The woman hesitated a moment, "...Very well, but if that man so much as blinks strangely you wake us up. After three hours wake me up to take a turn. Understand?" 

"Yes, mother." Feima said, and sat down on her bedroll. She watched him with an intense focus, while petting Belleby's broad, flat head. The creature purred contentedly. 

After what felt like an hour, the adults and the other children were asleep. Sam looked around the cave, feeling unsettled. He thought he'd find something at least somewhat interesting in the cave, something to distract his mind with, but it was just a bunch of carved out rock with no distinguishing features. 

A cold chill ran over his back, where his shirt had been torn open, and he wished he had his coat. The adrenaline of earlier had faded and now he felt unsure of himself. Afraid, even. It shouldn't have been surprising really, but he'd thought that maybe he was just stronger now. Apparently that hadn't been the case. He felt himself glancing over at the adult elves with increasing frequency, fearing their waking. 

'H-Hey... Wh-What happened?' Samson's voice rang in his head, and Sam stiffened. 

Feima looked at him closely, "What are you doing?" 

"A-Ah, just a bit cold is all. My shirt is all torn open and I can't reach it, to fix it." Sam explained quickly. The girl nodded tentatively, still watching him closely. 'Samson! Where have you been?' 

'I-I don't know what happened, when you were hit I just felt myself lose consciousness. When I recovered, I was almost lost in the void. Fortunately, I was able to find your magic again fairly quickly. What has happened?' 

Sam explained what had occurred since his waking. 'Elves, huh? Wouldn't expect them to be so openly aggressive as that, usually they're more of the passive aggressive type. I get a bad feeling about this situation, it might be best to try to get out of their grasp. These could be part of some racist faction. By racist, I mean the type that'd be likely to kill you, not the call you names type. Most elves are the latter as it is.' 

'You really think so? They haven't killed me yet. Though, admittedly they were planning to do so.' Sam replied, frowning. 'I was just gonna let them take us to the capital.' 

'Yes, I wouldn't recommend that. As soon as you let go of the familiar, they'll kill you, no hesitation. Not after you outwitted them like that, elves are very proud and don't take kindly to that sort of thing.' Samson statement resonated with his conviction. 

'Alright, what do you think I should do?' Sam asked. 

'Why're you asking me? I've never been in a situation like this before.' Samson replied with an irksome lack of concern. 

'Goddammit, you're supposed to be the one who knows what he's doing!' 

'I never made such a claim, that's just what you assumed.' Samson said indignantly. 

Sam suppressed a sigh, and began wracking his mind for a means of escape. He looked around discreetly, only moving his head if he had to. His sword lay 15 feet away, next to the sleeping, blonde elf. He looked down at his bound wrists and ankles, wondering how he could get the rope off of them without raising the alarm. At that moment he wished he'd gotten sever magic rather than bind magic. 

It was another half an hour before he thought he had a decent plan, though it depended on a lot of unreliable ideas. Nevertheless, he pushed on despite his fears. 

"H-Hey, um Feima, was it? Would you mind allowing me to remove my shirt? It's torn open in the back and I'm getting cold. I-I just want to try and fix it with my magic real quick." He whispered to the girl who had been annoyingly vigilant. She frowned, glancing toward her mother, clearly debating if it was alright. "If you want, you can hold a knife to my throat while I pull it off. Better safe than sorry." 

"Ahh, very well. But you'll have to do it with your hands tied." She replied after a few moments of thought. 

"Y-Yeah, that's fine. I just need to be able to touch it really." He said, feeling a small spark of relief when she agreed. It was good that she wasn't quite as suspicious as her mother. He didn't get his hopes up yet though. 

He held out his bound wrists as she stood and quietly approached. She crouched down, her right hand touching the hilt of a knife in her belt. Her brown leather pants creaked softly as she knelt and her billowy, flannel shirt tickled his forearms. After a second of fidgeting with it, the roped was undone. Sam moved his hands to the bottom hem of his shirt slowly, not wanting to cause alarm. Pulling it up and over his torso, he set it down before him. 

When he looked to her again, he realized that Feima was staring at his numerous scars. She didn't even notice when he held his hands back out for her. "Hey, you can tie me back up now." 

She jumped slightly when he spoke and her cheeks colored, visible even in the dim light of the cave. "I- ah, sorry. I didn't mean to stare." Feima quickly retied his hands, and shuffled back to her bedroll. 

He spread out his shirt, the blue fabric shredded and stained slightly green. 'Samson, do you think this could actually work?' 

'Hell if I know. My magic training wasn't very extensive. I was drafted into the army, before I got anywhere really good. It probably is, might be pretty difficult with no practice though.' Samson replied, still sounding annoyingly relaxed. 'I mean, both human magics are a bit more complex than their names really imply. But, you did manage to create a familiar bond on your first try, after having only seen it done once. What I'm trying to say, is that I have no idea.' 

'A lot of help you are. Now beat it, your presence is distracting.' Sam said, his anxiety starting to get to him. Samson's presence seemed to move away, though still within range in case Sam needed him. 

Power flooded into him as he pressed his fingers to the leftmost tear. He began to bind it together, trying to do it slowly. Shifting his focus, he forced his intentions into the power, shifting a small thread of intertwined swirls. It was so faint that Sam failed to see it at first as it snaked out from under the shirt. 

'Phew, it's going well so far.' As soon as he thought it, the line started to fade rapidly. Then, it was gone. "Shit." 

"What was that?" Feima asked, hearing his whispered curse. Sam glanced up at her, seeing her staring at his scars again. 

"Ah, I j-just messed up a little bit. That's all." He replied with a soft, nervous laugh. He was relieved when she just nodded distractedly. 

'What is so interesting about my scars?' He wondered as he looked down at his torso with a frown. 'That's odd... Why are the forms dimmer on my torso? Ah, is it because I'm directing it through my arms?' Sam suddenly clenched his teeth, 'Agh, that doesn't matter right now! Focus!' 

He began weaving another thin thread with his right hand, repairing his shirt with the left. The line started inching to his right, towards the group of sleeping elves. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Feima stifle a yawn. 'That's a good sign.' 

"Do you have a name human?" Feima asked suddenly. 

'Goddammit, I'm not ready for the small talk yet!' He thought and winced as the thread began to fade again. He refocused his efforts and the thread retained it's form. A bead of sweat rolled down Sam's forehead. 

"Did you not hear me? I asked your name." Feima said, sounding annoyed. 

'Damn brat. Give me a break for a minute.' Sam thought. His voice was strained when he spoke, "Sorry. M-My name? Ah, uh, right. It... It's Sam." 

"I'll forgive you this time, but make sure you answer next time." She said with satisfaction. 

'Fuck off.' "O-Of course." A drop of sweat fell from his nose. 

"...Don't you want to know my name?" She asked when he didn't continue. 

"It's Feima. I heard it earlier." He replied. The thread disappeared again. 

'FUUUUCK!' Sam barely resisted the urge to crawl over and punch her. Instead, he took a deep breath. 'It might've been better if one of the adults was watching, at least they wouldn't talk to me... But, then again they wouldn't have let me remove my shirt in the first place.' 

He looked up to see her fidgeting, still staring at the scars on his chest. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' He shook his head to clear it. 

"You remembered it after hearing it one time?" She asked, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. Sam asked himself what was wrong with her a second time. 

"Er, yes...?" 

She was silent for a while after that, and Sam was thankful for it. The thread was just over half way when she spoke again. 

"Are all humans like you?" 

"Wh-What do you mean? Am I the first human you've met?" He replied, nearly sighing in relief as the thread remained constant despite the distraction. 'It's getting a bit easier.' 

"Yes, you are my first." She said, and gave a small giggle. "I mean how you're submissive and all." 

'Submissive? No. Just staying under the radar.' He gave a wry chuckle."No, all humans are different. As I'm sure elves are as well." 

"No, elves are much smarter than humans." She replied. 

Sam just shook his head, "Sure whatever, but I was referring to personalities, not comparing the races." 

"I don't understand what you mean." 

Sam sighed. "How old are you, exactly?" 

"What? Are you mocking me you barbarian?" She said, a little too loudly. 

Her mother stirred slightly, and Sam held his breath. When she stopped moving and didn't rise he let out his breath silently. 

"No, I'm just asking." He answered more patiently than he felt. 

She glared at him suspiciously for a few moments, then relaxed slightly. "I am 16 years this winter." 

'Wow, she's much older than she looks.' He thought. 'And acts for that matter. Appearances can be deceiving. Gah she's probably too indoctrinated by now. Not worth it.' 

"Why did you ask that?" She said after he remained silent. 

"Ah, I was just curious." He replied. 

The thread reached it's destination at that moment, and Sam had to stifle the exclamation that threatened to escape him. His eyes followed the thread, so faint that he struggled to see it further down the line. It ended at the sheath of his sword, just below the cross guard. 'Moment of truth...' Sam forced his intention into the thread, and saw it flare for just a second. The sword crept an inch across the ground. Only a slight shift, but it told him that it would work. 

This time, he couldn't hold in the sigh of relief. Feima looked at him, her eyes narrowed. Sam went back to diligently repairing his shirt, not daring to look at his sword for fear of his urge to just take it right then. Oh how he wanted to hold it. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, like a burning coldness. Grasping his body in a strangling grip, making him want to move, to take action. 

He breathed deeply, composing himself, then began his next task. This one was even more unreliable than the flimsy thread, but he hadn't come up with anything else. So, he started talking to Feima, trying to coax her into sleep. He had to do it quickly, or she would end up waking her mother. 

Sam forced his body to tremble slightly, then it became a real shiver as he acknowledged the cold of the cave. "It's pretty cold in here, isn't it?" He asked. 

Feima nodded. "Yes, it is. It get's cold here as we approach winter. We will likely get snowfall within the next moon or so." She said, unconsciously pulling up her folded blanket. 

'Holy shit, that actually worked...' "Ah, it was still pretty warm down in the human lands a few days back." He said, not looking up from his shirt, which was now more than halfway repaired. "It got so hot on one of the days a while back that I had to keep dumping buckets of water on my familiar so she wouldn't die from the heat." 

And so he went on talking to her, telling arbitrary stories that he made up as he went. Nothing too interesting, or requiring response from her. It seemed to be working as her eyes began to droop noticeably, and she was yawning frequently. She did occasionally break in with a question, but he quickly diverted before it became a string of them. Mostly they related to the supposed human customs that he'd been making up. 

After a quarter hour, Sam heard her breathing become a steady rhythm. He glanced up, seeing her slumped against the wall. The blanket was pulled to her chin and her eyes were closed. Her lips were opened slightly, her jaw relaxed. Sam continued talking in a soft voice despite her being asleep already. He didn't want to risk the possibility of the sudden change waking her. 

Carefully, he began flaring the power to the thread, dragging his sword closer. Inch by painful inch, it crept closer in a straight line. Sam nearly cried out in frustration as Feima's mother shifted her leg, her foot moving directly into his sword's path. He fought the climbing desire to just wriggle his way over to it. 'Too loud, can't risk it all now for my impatience.' 

He grimaced as the hilt nudged her foot. She groaned and shifted in her bedroll, and Sam felt his hopes fall as her foot remained in the same position. 'Should I wait? See if she moves again?' He wondered, frowning at the thought of having to wait even longer. 'No, I need to get out of here now.' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 08



He tugged on the thread again, and her foot moved with it. She muttered something and stirred again, her breathing becoming uneven. Sam held his breath. Eventually she settled back down and he heard soft snoring. This time when he pulled the thread, he did not feed it as much power, but kept it moving at a steady speed. It moved at a snail's pace, sliding her foot for another few inches. Then, it slipped under the foot, no longer dragging it along. 

In his excitement, Sam accidentally jerked the thread with more power. The sword flew straight at his hand. It clattered along the ground, the echoing sound was deafening in the quiet of the cave. 'God. Dammit.' He watched in horror as the weapon seemed to move in slow motion, dragging over the uneven cave floor. It was too late to stop now, so he fed the thread more power and watched it speed straight into his hands. 

The rough impact jarred him slightly, but he payed it no mind. Two of the adults were moving now, along with Feima who's eyes were opened and looking at him with incomprehension. He unsheathed the sword and slashed the ropes around his ankles, not bothering to try it on his wrists. He jumped up with a speed that surprised himself. His hands came down with a thunk as he whacked Feima in the side of the head with the flat of his blade. She slumped to the side, already unconscious. 

That was when he heard the growling. He turned to see Belleby looking at him with an animalistic ferocity, his sharp, needle teeth bared in a snarl. Muscles tensed, and Sam dove to the left. Belleby's claws clicked along the stone as he pivoted, preparing to lunge again. 

'Wait!' Sam shouted, but Belleby charged anyway. So he said the first idea that came to mind. 'If you help me I will make you her familiar!' 

That made the beast hesitate. 'Can you do that?' 

'Yes, of course I can.' Sam said with as much certainty as he could muster. 'I really hope Samson knows how to do that.' As if hearing his thoughts, he felt Samson's presence shift closer. He didn't say anything but Sam could feel the tension from him, like a bow drawn taught. 

'It depends what you want me to do...' Belleby said, his eyes looked about uncertainly as all six of the elves started making noise. Sam heard a mumbled word or two drift over, but didn't pay it any attention. 

'I need you to lead me back to my friends. I will pretend to kidnap Feima, and you chase me.' Sam said, picking the best idea he could come up with in those few short seconds. 

'...Very well,' Belleby replied, looking at the rising adults with worry. 

Sam quickly bound his sheathed sword to his back. The positioning was uncomfortable but he had no time to fix it. He stuffed the partially fixed shirt into his pocket and slung the limp form of Feima up over his shoulder. She was light, but he grunted under the weight just the same. 'Damn my arms are achy...' 

'Wait here for a second, then make some noise after I leave. Give them enough time to see that the two of us are gone, then give chase.' Sam said, sparing a glance for Feima's mother who was rising now, rubbing her eyes. Then, he was out of the cave and into the darkness of night. 

——— 

Dettella woke to find that she'd fallen asleep while reading, again. She sighed, 'I've lost my place again.' and put a place marker in her book. She blinked as she looked about the carriage, realizing that it was still dark outside. Yalene snorted loudly as the cart bumped, then fell back into a steady snore. Dettella grimaced at the rather unsightly appearance of her handmaiden. Her red hair splayed across the cushions in a tangled fan of tight curls. 

'What happened to the terrified young woman of a few days ago? I think I preferred her to this.' She thought, shaking her head. She couldn't get that look of pity out of her mind and it was starting to grate on her nerves. 'I'm not so weak. I made it all the way to the village without complaints, after all.' She thought sullenly. 

She sighed softly, brushing the long, loose curls of blonde from her face. 'I need to control my frustration better. I cannot let stress beat me as it has.' She told herself, but knew it was easier said than done. 

She felt the carriage slow to a stop. "H-Huh? Wh-What happened?" Yalene asked, rubbing her eyes drowsily. "Why did we stop?" 

"I'm not sure, wait here a minute." Dettella replied and opened the door. 'Why does this girl ask such stupid questions?! As if I would know!' She grimaced inwardly as she realized she'd lost her composure in less than a minute. 

The darkness outside was briefly lit by the magic inside the carriage before she closed the door behind her. "Captain, why have we stopped?" 

Darrel glanced at her, the lantern he held illuminating the right half of his face. "There is an argwolf a little off the road a mile ahead. We will have to make a detour to avoid it. It will be slower going through these dense trees." He replied, his tone giving no emotion. Then he gave a few curt orders to the two remaining guards and they rode ahead. 

Dettella felt a surge of curiosity at the mention of the argwolf. Oh how she wished to see it, there were so many stories of the creatures in the books. Recounts of the woman who attempted to fulfill a prophecy and killed a queen with the aid of an argwolf, and the story of the Wolf King who roamed the world amongst a pack of the beasts, unable to be killed. Those were her favorites. She barely restrained the urge to order them onward anyway, but the recent memory of the gurilthenn held her back. 

'This world isn't one of the grand stories, I need to get that through my head.' She thought, but her desire to see the creature didn't diminish. Her fists bunched at her sides and she sulked back into the carriage, feeling like she had as a child when her tutor didn't allow her to read certain books. 

Yalene looked at her with the question written all over her face. "There is a small disturbance in the road ahead, we just need to take an off-road course for a while," Dettella said, "nothing to worry over." 

"Ah, that is good. For a minute I thought there might be more danger." She replied with a relieved smile as the carriage began moving again. 

Dettella sat back down and took up her book, trying to find the right page. A few minutes later, the ride became rough. Even with those springs under the carriage it was uncomfortable. 'I can't imagine how bad this would be without those... The thing would probably shake itself apart.' 

"Milady, when do you suspect we will arrive at Geylin?" Yalene asked. 

Dettella rubbed her temples, "I do not know, Yalene. Two, three more days perhaps? The Leddin forest is enormous, and Geylin is at the center. We still have many miles yet to travel." 

Suddenly, the carriage bumped to the side and Dettella heard a string of curses from outside. "Stop the carriage!" 

——— 

Sam rubbed his head, cursing under his breath. 'What the hell was that?' He looked up, blinking at the sudden brightness in his eyes. 'A carriage?' He heard voices but he was too dazed to pay attention as the carriage slowed to a stop 15 feet away. 

Feima had fallen from his grasp and lay crumpled a few feet from him. Behind him, he heard the crunching footsteps as Belleby caught up. He hurried to his feet, groaning at the protestation of his sore muscles. 'I gotta get moving, the elves won't be too far behind.' 

As he bent to pick up Feima once again, he saw the glint of the sword at his throat and froze. "What are you doing out here?" asked the voice to his right. He spoke in English, with an accent that reminded him of the French. Though it was quite subtle. 

Sam felt his body tensing, ready to move. His eyes darted around instinctively, taking in his surroundings. 

'Oh blight...' Samson said. 'Crestellans.' 

"I'm just trying to escape a group of elves that kidnapped me." Sam said, remembering the thing Fenella had told him about his terrible lying ability. 

"Then why are you running off with an elven child?" The man asked in a plain monotone that unnerved Sam. 

"Ehh, long story. I need to get back to my friend, he's lost his legs and needs treatment." 

"I've got all the time in the world. Start talking." 

'Samson, any ideas?' Sam asked. 

'Nope, we're screwed. That's a sword captain of the high guard, even if I had my felnn blade I'd have a difficult time defeating him.' He replied, from his tone Sam guessed difficult was an understatement. 

"I-I'm using her as a sort of alibi for my pal Belleby over there, he's leading me back to my friends. I told him I would make him her familiar once he got me there, and if the elf women back there find out he's helping me they'll kill him, so I took her to make it more believable that he's chasing me." Sam said in a rush, feeling breathless. 

He heard the sound of the carriage door opening, and risked a glance at it. A woman figure was silhouetted against silvery light that glowed from inside. "Darrel, who is that?" 

"Our new temporary companion." Darrel replied, his tone unchanged as he slit the ropes binding Sam's wrists and slid his sword into a sheath at his waist. 

Sam was too dumbfounded to reply at first as the man picked up Feima in one hand and carried her to the carriage. "I... What?" 

"Get in, kid. We'll take you to your friend. If what you say is the truth, then we will have no quarrel." Darrel said. "Give me your sword and tell that hoshind to lead the way." 

Sam removed his sword and handed it to the big man without thinking, but figured he had no choice anyway. 'Er... Belleby lead this carriage back to my friends, they're giving me a ride.' Sam told the creature, who looked at him with orange eyes that seemed to glow. 

'Alright... but don't forget your promise.' The hoshind said, with clear uncertainty in his voice. 

'Don't worry, I haven't forgotten.' 

——— 

Dettella looked toward the shirtless man as he reached down for the elf girl. In a flash, Darrel was there with his sword held to the man's throat. He froze, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area in an instant, and for a moment she thought he would fight. Darrel seemed to notice it as well, his eyes flicking toward the sword then to the hoshind that had loped up a few yards away. 

Then, the man replied, his words coming out in a blur. Dettella couldn't tell what he'd said, but Darrel slashed his bindings, sheathed his sword and told the man to get in the carriage. "Darrel, who is that?" 

"Our new temporary companion." For a moment she considered protesting, but Darrel followed just behind the hesitant man after giving a loud whistle. As he came into the light, she noticed that he was younger than she'd first estimated. He couldn't have been older than 20. 

Dettella backed into the carriage to allow the two to climb in. She sat down next to Yalene who was darting nervous glances from her, to the newcomer, to Darrel, and back again. The young man sat across from her, glancing down at the few books she'd acquired in the last village. It remained silent for a minute. When the two guards returned, Darrel ordered them to follow the hoshind, then he turned his gaze back on the man. 

He stared back with those icy blue eyes, surprising Dettella with the lack of fear in them. Then, he turned that gaze onto her and for a moment she felt fear threaten to surge up, but still she looked him in the eye. There was a hint of something recognizable in those eyes. Something she'd seen in Tenall's eyes, but slightly different. There was madness in those piercing eyes. Not the same as Tenall, they didn't have the same lust for murder in them, but there was madness there all the same. 

She spoke a moment after the carriage began rolling, after Darrel sat the elf girl between her and Yalene. "Where are we taking this man?" She asked. 

"He claims that he must return to his friend, who is injured. He was running from a group of elves who had captured him." Darrel replied, but said nothing more, even when she looked pointedly at the girl next to her. 

"It isn't too far from here. Well, I don't think it was anyway. Can't really remember much of it." The man said, his accent sounding oddly over enunciated to her ears. "Oh, I should warn you that my familiar is there. She won't do anything, but she might be pretty scary when you first meet her." 

She frowned, suddenly intrigued. "What do you mean by that?" 

"Ah, she's an argwolf." He said impassively. 

Dettella blinked, taking a moment to digest his words. "You mean an argwolf as in, the argwolf just off the road a few miles up?" 

The man looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Yeah, I guess so. Why?" 

She couldn't hold back the smile that crept onto her face, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Darrel's eyes flash in amusement. She ignored him, barely keeping herself from bombarding the man with questions. "Would you let me see her? Let me speak to her?" 

In an instant, the man in front of her seemed to change. The changes were subtle, but it was as if he was an entirely different person. Darrel seemed as taken aback by it as she was, as he openly expressed the first emotion she'd seen from him. Shock. 

The man now didn't seem like a man, but more like a boy. His eyes weren't as sharp, predatory, now they seemed innocent and a bit lost. His shoulders slumped forward slightly, and his back wasn't as straight. The tension left his muscles, and he shuffled a little closer to the corner. His eyes moved away from hers, and he brushed the brown locks back from his forehead and started rubbing the back of his head as he replied. 

"Um, yeah sure. I-If you want to. I don't really mind." He said, his cheeks stained with a pinkish-red tinge. 

"It would be an honor if I could meet such a magnificent beast." Dettella said, her smile broadening. "Oh, I did not get your name." 

"Huh? O-Oh, uh my name's Samson, but most just call me Sam. Er... Samson Wallace is my full name." Sam stammered. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Samson. I am Dettella Reyall, Princess of Crestell." She replied formally, holding out a hand to him. Too late, she realized that she wasn't wearing her gloves. 

He took her hand hesitantly. Dettella froze, a gasp escaping her lips. As soon as her skin touched his, she caught her first glimpse of what infinity must look like. Inside this Samson was the most immense pool of magic she'd ever seen. The endless spirals of coruscant gold and silver threatened to suck her in, enveloping her in the impossibly intricate patterns. Then, it was gone. The calloused hand pulled from hers. 

Sam looked surprised. "Wow," he said, "you're the strongest mage I've met so far." 

Dettella couldn't form words, couldn't do anything but stare at the man in front of her. 'This man could be the most powerful mage in the realm, and I have never even heard of him. I doubt even Tenall, with her stolen magic, could compare to what I just saw.' She thought, her amazement getting the best of her. 'And on top of that, it's a man at such a level. Amazing.' 

"What is it?" Yalene asked, looking back and forth between them with worry etched over her features. 

"We seem to have picked up a very strange man." Darrel said simply. 

——— 

Sam watched Dettella, her mouth slightly open as she stared at him with what he thought was awe. 'S-Samson, you said you've heard of her?' He asked, marveling at how green her eyes were. Such a rich emerald color. And her hair, such a perfect golden blonde. 

'Yes, and that is definitely her. Not easy to impersonate a princess, especially one with that much magic.' Replied Samson, his voice tainted with anxiety. 'We need to get away as quick as possible. She'll kill us if she finds out I'm Straldan.' 

'A princess... A real life princess.' Sam was so enthralled that he didn't hear what the other two passengers said. 

'Sam snap out of it!' Samson sounded panicked now. 'Dammit, we'd be better off in elven hands!' 

'What are you so worried about. I'm not even from this world, and our accents are totally different. She won't think I'm Straldan.' Sam said. 

Samson muttered something but seemed to settle down. Finally, the princess seemed to regain her wits. 

"Well, that was... astonishing." She said, giving her head a small shake to clear it. "Would you mind telling me where you hail from?" 

Sam was quick to answer, "O-Oregon." 

"Oregon? I have not heard of such a place. I have not heard an accent like yours either." 

He nodded, "It's really, really far away." 

Suddenly the ride smoothed out considerably. "We have reached the road." The big man, Darrel, said to his left. They were close in height, a little above six feet, but Darrel was thick with muscle and gave off a powerful atmosphere. 

"How did you come to be so far from home?" Dettella asked. 

"...I-I, uh, well I was sorta left stranded here. I guess you could say." Sam replied, really wishing he'd followed Fenella's advice and prepared a story beforehand. 

"Ah, my apologies, Samson. I don't mean to pry into your privacy." She said with a small smile. "I've been told I am too curious many a time." 

"Oh, no worries, no worries. It's just a difficult story to tell." Sam said, suddenly wishing he could tell her his story. "I promise I'm not a runaway criminal or anything." 

'No! Sam, you are losing it!' Samson shouted, his worry returning. 'You are acting as if you've never seen a beautiful woman before! You can't tell her how you came here.' 

'Dude, she's a princess though. Like a real one... I'm sure we can trust her.' He replied, blushing as Dettella gave a delightful laugh. 'Such a beautiful smile.' 

'What the hell has blighted your mind?! If you tell her, you realize that we might not be able to get Theodore the healing he needs. People like her don't like to just let strange and powerful men run around you know. They'll stick you in a cell and do all sorts of tests on you, torture you for information. That sort of thing.' 

That caught Sam's attention. 'You're right, I'm being foolish. I can't risk Theodore's life on a whim.' He shook his head, trying to regain his focus. 'She really reminds me of Ms. Albright though...' He thought, suddenly wishing he could see the dignified librarian again. She'd been what kept him going during hard times, the thought of seeing her the next day. He shook his head again, dashing away the memories that were surfacing. 

"Is there something wrong?" Dettella asked, giving him a puzzled frown. 

"No, I'm alright. I just realized something is all." He replied, looking at her with a new suspicion. 

"Are you sure? Did I offend you in someway?" 

"I'm fine." Sam said tersely. "I need to tell my familiar we're coming, give me a minute." 

Her frown deepened, and he saw her share a glance with Darrel and the other girl. He tried to ignore them, but he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for his rudeness. 

'Letta! Are you there?' Sam called out mentally. It took a moment before she replied, but when she did it sounded more than a little worried. 

'Sam! What has happened?! Where are you?! Are you hurt?! I cannot find you!' 

'Calm down Letta, I'm fine. A little scuffed up, but otherwise alright. I'm on my way back with some other people, please don't kill them. Not yet at least.' Sam said, trying to ebb her concern. 'I'll explain what happened in a little while, so for now just try not to scare these people into doing something rash.' 

'...Very well. But, you have a lot of explaining to do later, pup.' She said sternly. 

Sam grinned, feeling comforted by her presence in his head again. 'We'll be there in a few minutes probably. I'm in a carriage that's following a... what was it called? Oh, right. A hoshind, he's friendly too by the way.' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 08



'Hm, a hoshind... I have not seen one of them in a long time. They are loyal creatures. I do not hate them, but they are far inferior to argwolves.' 

'Of course they are. Argwolves are the greatest, right? No comparison.' Sam said jokingly. 

'Yes, you are becoming more enlightened by the day, Sam. I am proud of you.' Letta joked back. 

Sam laughed aloud, and his fellow passengers looked at him oddly. "I'm not crazy. You don't need to look at me like that." 

Suddenly, Feima groaned and shifted. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment before closing again. The other girl glanced at him with disapproval as she looked at the goose egg that was forming on the elf girl's head. Sam winced, thinking that maybe he'd hit her too hard. He reached for Feima, intending to heal her, but the other girl swatted his hand away. A spike of icy fear gripped him for a moment, but he forced it down, hastily pulling his hand back so that the others didn't see it shaking. 

Sam scooted further away. "I-I was just gonna fix that..." He muttered. 

"Oh. I thought..." The other girl said, trailing off. 

"Yalene, what did you even think he could do?" Dettella asked the other girl, a hint of anger flashing over her eyes. "Apologize to Samson." 

"I-I just... Milady, I'm sorry." Yalene replied, giving Dettella a bow. 

"Why are you apologizing to me?" She said, annoyance mingling with the hint of anger in her eyes. 

"But, didn't he kidnap this girl? Why should I apologize to such a man. He is reprehensible." Yalene pled, looking at him with unobstructed disdain now. 

"A-Ah, it's alright. It's my... It's my fault. I-I deserved it." Sam cut in, his head lowered in shame. 

"Do not say that, Samson. You must have had a reason for taking this girl, and it is unfair to call it kidnapping under the circumstances." Dettella said, looking at him with a serious expression, forestalling any argument. 

"Y-Yes... There was a reason..." He said quietly. 

"If we hadn't caught him when we did he probably would've raped her." Yalene said, still looking at him. Her expression becoming more determined. 

THWAP! Sam jumped slightly, thinking for a moment that he'd been the one who was slapped. Yalene looked dazed, as unsure about what happened as Sam was. She felt her cheek tentatively. Then tears began falling from her eyes, a trickle of blood escaping her lips. Sam's first instinct was to feel guilty, but he shoved down his desire to apologize. 

"Wh-What...?" She asked, finally looking up at Dettella. Seeing the look on her face, Yalene realized what had happened. 

"Apologize to Samson. Right now." Dettella said, her voice soft, an unspoken threat in her tone. 

"M-Milady...?" 

"Do not try my patience." 

"I-I am sorry, Samson..." Yalene muttered reluctantly. 

"What are you sorry for?" 

"I... I don't know... M-Milady, I don't understand? Why are you acting this way?" 

Sam thought Dettella was about to slap the woman again for a moment, then she spoke. "You act rashly on the small amount of information we have obtained. You accuse him of something that did not even happen, and choose to treat him with disdain for said hypothetical situation. Then you continue to embarrass me, your mistress, by refusing to listen to me. Is your lack of thought clear enough yet, or need I go on?" 

'Scaary...' Samson said approvingly. 'I think I like her a bit more.' 

"But, milady, he's a man." 

"...And? What do you think, that because he's a man that he must have had some heinous ulterior motive? That he was going to rape her, or something? Is that what you think?" Dettella went on, her voice betraying an anger and frustration that Sam guessed wasn't entirely spawned from this conversation. 

Yalene looked like she wanted to say yes, but wisely kept her mouth shut. 

"Some beliefs do not change overnight." Darrel said. His words coming in the same neutral monotone, giving away nothing. Yalene seemed not to understand. 

'That one might not be so bad either.' Samson said. 

Suddenly, a rapping at the window made everyone turn. Darrel opened it, and a guard peeked his head in. "Captain, this hoshind is leading us straight to where we saw the argwolf earlier. Are you sure we're going the right way?" 

"The argwolf is this man's familiar. We will not be harmed by it." He replied, glancing at Sam. The guards eyes widened at that, but he did not question further. Darrel shut the window with a click. 

Feima broke the sudden silence with another groan, and Sam was reminded of what had started that whole argument. He reached over and touched her hand, summoning his power simultaneously. The gold and silver spirals erupted from his skin, overwhelming the silvery light of the binding above. He let some of it flow into Feima, and nearly instantly the swollen bump on her head diminished. 

He pulled away, to see the other three looking at him strangely. It seemed like that was happening a lot. Letting go of his hold on the magic, he slumped back into the cushioned bench. Suddenly feeling tired, the result of the day's stresses. 'I just want to get back to Letta and get going again. I need to get away from this Yalene, she's starting to make me anxious.' 

Sam suddenly felt a spike of curiosity come from Samson, and was not surprised when he spoke. 'Hey, why is it that you feel afraid when you look at Yalene, but not Dettella? In fact, it's almost as if she comforts you or something...' 

'I was about to ask myself the same question... I suppose it's just because she reminds me of someone. I don't know.' 

'Don't you get anxious around most women?' 

'Well, yeah I guess so.' Sam paused and resisted the urge to cock his head to the side in thought. 'Just to clarify, I know that not all of them are like my stepmom and half sister, but I can't help it really.' He said, barely noticing as the carriage started to jump as it changed to rougher terrain. 

'I understand. I have a hard time with that occasionally too, I always feel like they're looking down on me somehow. Makes me angry.' 

'Yeah, I noticed.' Sam replied dryly. 

Samson went on, apparently not noticing Sam's tone. 'I don't really get that feeling from her though... Don't ask me why. It's just a hunch. You still shouldn't trust them.' 

'I got it. I'll try to be cautious. For Theodore's sake if nothing else.' 

The carriage finally came to a stop, and Sam heard Dettella gasp as she peered out the window. He straightened as the door was opened by one of the guards. Dettella stepped out, holding her dress up in tight fists. Sam immediately noticed how her movement was smooth and graceful, like a ballet dancer. 

Sam stepped out directly behind her, quickly scanning the area. They had stopped in the middle of the clearing. Two chests sat nearby, next to which lay Theodore wrapped in multiple blankets. A few yards away, a smoldering fire crackled in a circle of stones, lighting the darkness with a flickering glow. Fenella glanced at them unconcerned, as she stirred a pot of tea over the fire. 

"What took you so long? I had to eat raw fentils for dinner!" She said in a half curious, half annoyed tone. 

"Ah, I suppose you could say I got sidetracked on my way back." 

"I'll hear the details of that later." She told him. "And why aren't you wearing a shirt?" 

Sam glanced down and realized he was still bare chested. "Oh, uh it got torn up when I was dragged along the ground. Haven't had the chance to fix it yet." He explained embarrassedly, pulling the shirt out of his pocket. She nodded as if she understood and turned back to her tea. 

'Strange woman.' He thought, not for the first time. He walked over to his chest and put the torn shirt inside, pulling out it's twin and his coat. After pulling them on, he remembered that there were other people around. He turned back to see Dettella and Yalene gaping at something. Darrel leaned against the carriage in a deceivingly relaxed pose, his eyes focused intensely in the same direction. Sam could almost feel the threatening aura coming off him. 

He glanced to where they were looking and saw Letta's dark form. She was laying down, her paws outstretched and head resting on them. She was glaring intently at the new arrivals. Darrel in particular. 

'He is a dangerous one.' She said. 'You must be cautious. I do not know if I could save you from him.' 

Sam looked back to Darrel, and saw him look away from Letta. The dangerous feeling suddenly abated, and Letta immediately leapt up. Before he could react, Sam was lying on his back wondering what happened. Then he saw Letta's big black eyes looking down at him. Suddenly, her tongue darted out and licked his face. It felt like someone had dragged a soaked towel across his head. 

"Agh! Bleh! Letta you got your slobber up my nose!" He cried out, pinching his nose to prevent it from going any further than it already had. He wiped the saliva from his face and pushed himself up, scowling at Letta. She just stared back at him with a playful glint in her eyes, tail flitting about behind her. 

The rest of them just stared at the bizarre display, as the supposedly fearsome creature playfully pranced about. 

"Sh-She was just worried about me." Sam quickly explained when he noticed their bewildered gazes on him, then added, "I feel like I'm receiving that look a lot lately." 

"What was the name you called the argwolf?" Dettella asked, and Sam realized he'd said it aloud. He saw Letta stop and tense up. 

"Her name is Letta." He said, and felt like hitting himself upside the head a moment after. 'Why did I just say that?!' 

He felt all of their gazes on him now, holding him there as strongly as any chains could. Even Fenella was looking at him with interest, a very deep interest based on how her eyes seemed to gleam despite the firelight. He even caught a small smile tracing her lips. Dettella's expression wasn't much different. Darrel, on the other hand looked like he didn't care a whit. 

Yalene's eyes were fixed on him with a mixture of fear and absolute disgust. She looked on the verge of outrage when Dettella spoke again. 

"Is that the name you gave her?" She asked, and it looked as though she were trying to hold back her excitement. 

Sam saw his chance then to amend for his last mistake. "Ah, no. She used to have another master a long time ago who named her that." 

'Sam, why are you telling them the truth?' Letta asked in his head, sounding on edge. 

'I don't know! I didn't mean to say that, I swear!' He replied, wondering what had happened to the caution he'd had a few minutes earlier. It was like Dettella just sucked the truth out of him. She was so beautiful... So graceful... 

Sam shook his head, trying to clear it. 'What has gotten into me? I'm going to end up giving everything away!' He tried to convince himself that he was in a precarious position here, but it felt like he was lying to himself. 'I need to get a hold on my tongue. We should get out of here before I make even more of a fool of myself.' 

"Do you mean to tell me that this argwolf is the same Letta who assisted Lady Everen in killing the queen of Stralda 200 years ago?" Dettella asked, her excitement almost palpable. Sam fumbled for a plausible excuse, but could not come up with one. 

'Might as well be out with it now. You already missed your chance to make up for the mistake, and we both know how bad you are at lying.' Letta said, sounding resigned now. She sat back on her haunches. 'That maid there wants to kill me. Almost as much as she wants to kill you.' 

Sam winced at her words as if they were a physical blow. 'I'm not that bad am I? Oh forget it.' He glanced at Yalene, seeing her clenched fists and grinding teeth. 'What the hell did I ever do to you?' 

"...Yes, she is the one you speak of." Sam said, his voice strained. 

A sudden burst of movement made him jump as Yalene came sprinting toward him. A knife in her hand that he hadn't seen her carrying a moment before. He was frozen in place. Then a whoosh of air and Yalene was slammed into a tree. She slumped down limply, her face hitting the damp earth with a soft smack. Sam barely realized what had happened, and Dettella seemed startled. Darrel and Fenella were apparently unfazed however. 

Darrel slowly stood straight and walked to Yalene. He checked her neck for a pulse and ran his hands over her in a quick inspection, then nodded. "She is fine." 

Sam didn't know how to react, so he just said the first thought that came to mind. "Er... Shouldn't you be killing me or something?" 

Darrel glanced at him. "My duty is to protect her," he said, nodding to Dettella, "not the maid. If I were to fight you now I would probably be able to come out the victor, but not without putting her in danger. Besides, I don't think the princess would like it too much if I killed your familiar." 

The way the man said it gave Sam no doubts that he could kill him easily. But he felt no hostility from him. If his own feelings weren't enough, Letta was now lying in a relaxed position like she hadn't a care in the world. She saw his questioning gaze and spoke. 

'He will not attack us as long as we do not hinder his mission. We need not fear him.' She said, her eyes flitting toward Dettella for a moment. Sam nodded his understanding, and turned back to Dettella. 

She was still standing stock-still, looking at her handmaiden's crumpled form. Eventually she seemed to wake from her immobile state and slowly walked to Yalene. She placed a hand on the young woman's head and Sam saw silver light glow from it. There was an audible snick sound as bones were realigned, and she withdrew her hand. The princess frowned at the knife in the maid's hand. 

"Where did this come from?" She asked, looking at Darrel who had returned and assumed his previous position against the carriage. 

"That one was hidden on her thigh. She has another in her cleavage, and one up her left sleeve." He said, absently fiddling with the purple collar on his coat. 

"What should I do with her?" 

"Dismiss her from service." Darrel replied immediately. At Dettella's look he went on. "She's impulsive, dull witted. She just tried to kill a man for the actions of a woman who lived several centuries ago. Need I go on?" 

She hesitated a few moments. "I suppose you're right." She sighed softly. "I'd hoped to correct her ignorance and ineptitudes, but I admit it was a dim hope. I knew I should have picked a more experienced handmaiden..." 

Sam just listened, trying not to pity the now unemployed maid. It was difficult, despite the fact that she'd been about to kill him a minute earlier. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, but he couldn't help it. 

"Er... Well, anyways. W-We should probably get going now." He said, trying to sound casual. It didn't work. 

"Why? It's not even morning yet." Fenella said. "Besides, it's not often you get to meet a princess. You should savor it." She gave Sam a mischievous wink. 

'Damn you...' He reluctantly sat down near the fire. That was when Belleby loped in out of the darkness. 'Oh crap I almost forgot.' 

'Ah, right. I'll bind you to Feima.' Sam said. 'Hey Samson, you know how to bind a familiar to someone else, right?' 

'...I've never tried it, but I know how it's meant to be done. Can't be sure if I could do it though.' 

'Well, I gotta try. I made a deal with Belleby.' 

'Alright, I'll try it. Though maybe the next time you tell someone you'll do something, make sure you know how to do it first.' 

'I'll try to remember that.' Sam replied and jogged over to the carriage, past Dettella who seemed to be having an internal argument with herself. He wondered if that was what it looked like when he talked to Samson. 

"I need to fulfill a bargain with that hoshind." He said to Darrel's questioning gaze as he opened the carriage door. Sam dragged out Feima by her legs. Her petite frame felt heavier than it had earlier somehow and he grunted as he carried her over to where Belleby waited next to the fire. 

Fenella raised an eyebrow as he set the unconscious girl down. "I'll explain later." He said. 

"You seem to have a lot of explaining to do. What with the regicidal assassin's argwolf and your unexpected disappearance." She said, looking at Letta with a new curiosity. 

"Yes, yes. I'll get to it later. For now I just want to finish up with this and go to sleep. It's been a stressful night." Sam beckoned Belleby over as he spoke. 'Samson, you're up pal.' 

Sam sat cross legged and let his mind relax, allowing Samson to take control. He felt his hands move on their own, one pressing to Belleby's broad brow and the other to Feima's. The girl stirred, but did not wake. Bright light overwhelmed that of the fire as Samson brought forth the magic. Sam could feel eyes on him as Samson began to weave. 

First he felt the familiar bond to Belleby disconnect, and he saw a thick rope of magic floating before him all of a sudden. He could tell Samson was straining to move it over to Feima. 

"What are you doing?" Dettella asked. Samson winced and Sam saw the rope begin to fray, dematerializing steadily. 

Samson grunted under the effort of keeping his concentration. The rope began moving again, but it seemed slower and it continued to lose it's form. Sam instinctually tried to keep it moving, forgetting that Samson was the one meant to do it. Almost instantly it snapped onto Feima's forehead, right under his hand. Samson gasped, and Sam felt him retreat back from his body. 

'It's done.' He said, sounding fatigued. 'Did you help me? Just at the end right then?' 

'Yeah, I hadn't really meant to but I did. I just tried to help control it a bit.' Sam replied. 

'Ah, well it worked, surprisingly. Next time you're doing it yourself. I feel like I just ran across the desolate plains.' 

Sam removed his hands, and looked at Feima expecting some sort of change. He wasn't overly surprised when there wasn't, but he'd thought there might be a small mark at least. 

"What did you just do?" Dettella asked, looking at the elf girl with no small amount of curiosity. 

"Ah, I-I transferred the familiar bond over to her. I told Belleby that I'd do this if he guided me back to my friends." 

"I see. I've never seen it done so... extravagantly. Most bondings I've witnessed use much less magic." 

"O-Oh really? Well I might have to practice it more for next time then. But I'm glad it worked. I made the deal not knowing if I could do it." Sam said with a light chuckle. 

"That was your first time trying it then?" She asked, sounding surprised. 

"W-Well, yeah it was..." 

She shook her head. "I truly cannot believe I have not heard of you, Lord Samson. Any female mage with such talent would be the talk of the realm, let alone a male. It is likely because I have been rather disconnected lately. But, regardless I'd think I would have heard at least a rumor." 

"I-It's probably because I haven't been around long or something." Sam said, feeling his cheeks color at the praise. She nodded, looking thoughtful. 

He rubbed the back of his head, and stole a glance at Dettella's face. He was still taken aback by her beauty. She stood straight backed, with her hands clasped in front of her. Her long blonde hair fell around her shoulders and down her back, framing a round face with high cheekbones and full lips. She appeared taller than she really was, which Sam attributed to the confidence with which she held herself. Her breasts weren't small, nor were they large, but they seemed perfectly proportioned on her slender form. 

Despite all of that, Sam felt like his eyes were always pulled to hers. The striking emerald green sparkled with an intelligence and curiosity that he'd seen often in Ms. Albright's eyes. There was something comforting in those eyes. Something he was attracted to, like a moth to flame. Sam had never known his real mother, and had never been told what happened to her. But, in his mind he imagined that her eyes were the same. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 08



He was jolted from his thoughts as Feima spoke. "Wh-What...?" She sat up, rubbing her head where Sam had hit her. As she saw him crouched down next to her she shrieked. "Y-You! You savage! My mother will find me and kill you!" 

"Hey now, no need to be rude. I don't need you anymore so you can go back. Belleby can escort you." Sam replied as he stood up. 

She glared at him. Her eyes softened slightly as Belleby hopped toward her and gave her face a long lick. "Agh, Belleby! This is not the time, can't you see?" Feima stiffened, and Sam guessed that he had just spoken to her. "Wha... How?" 

The hoshind looked pointedly at him, then back to Feima. "I made him your familiar. Now you can talk to each other mentally. It's pretty useful." Sam explained. 

'Just leave. I'm letting you go. Don't cause anymore problems, I'm too tired for this.' He prayed silently. Her glare turned on him again, and he sighed. 'Not the type to make things easy I guess.' 

"Like I said, I'm back with my friends now. So you can just go back to your family or whatever. I just want to go to bed." 

Her scowl deepened and she made to tackle him. Sam was too exhausted to be afraid at that point, he'd dealt with enough irrationality for one day. 'Letta, can you scare her a bit? Just so she leaves and doesn't come back.' He asked as he lazily sidestepped the elf. 

'I will put the fear of death into her.' Letta replied ominously. 

'Be careful. I wouldn't want her to be traumatized for life or anything.' 

He heard her snort loudly behind him. 'Fine. I will just chase her off.' 

A rumbling growl shook the air. Feima stumbled, her fist missing Sam. Her eyes bulged to the point that Sam thought they might pop out, apparently seeing Letta for the first time. Wind blew his hair into his face as Letta let out a menacing howl. Feima tripped as she tried to back away, falling hard on her backside. 

Suddenly, Letta stopped. Sam spun, frowning at her. 'Why'd you stop?' He asked. She lifted her snout, sniffing the air. Her head cocked to the side, obviously puzzled by something. Sam turned, peering out into the dark forest. 'Is something coming?' 

Then Letta growled again, and he could tell that this one was not feigned. 'A pack of hoshind are surrounding us. I believe there are elves with them as well. I cannot tell how many.' 

Sam felt his hands start to shake. His fear threatening to overwhelm him. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed it. Darrel had tossed him his sword. Dettella looked at them confusedly. 

"Get in the carriage, princess." Darrel said, still sounding calm. "We're about to have company." 

Sam looked down at the sword in his hand and smiled. His hands stopped shaking and he felt adrenaline surge through him. In the back of his mind, almost subconsciously, he felt that the excitement that suddenly took him was wrong somehow. It was disturbingly similar to the demented glee he felt when he held his magic too long. 

'Sam! Control yourself!' Samson said, his worry permeating their bond. Sam shook his head trying to get rid of that wrongness. 

"Slap me." He said to Darrel, barely noticing as Fenella pulled a pair of large knives from her chest. 

Darrel looked at him for a moment, seeming to understand somehow, then backhanded him. Sam reeled from the blow. He hadn't expected it to be so hard. Blinking repeatedly, Sam worked his jaw. He tasted coppery blood, but didn't summon his magic. His mind felt clear now, calm and focused. He still felt it, that excitement, like a weed that refused to pull out. But it was lesser now, it wouldn't control him. 

"Belleby, get Feima out of here. I wouldn't want a kid to get caught in the crossfire." Sam said, glancing at the hoshind who was looking around worriedly. He looked at Sam and gave a nod. 

The elf girl glared at him indignantly. "I'm not a ki..." She was cut off as Belleby started dragging her by her loose shirt. She looked at him. "No! I'm not leaving. I will see these barbarians cut down. I must!" 

Sam didn't bother getting annoyed by her stubborn refusal to cooperate. He heard a soft rustling noise beneath Feima's loud protestations. 

'Sam, bring Theodore and get on my back. We will flee. They will be distracted by these people.' Letta said, a hint of concern in her tone. 

'What?! No, I won't do that.' Sam replied. 'Even for you that's a bit cruel.' 

'There are too many to fight! I cannot protect you from all of them!' Letta plead, her tone becoming frantic. That she was scared frightened Sam more than he'd have liked to admit. 

'It will be alright. They probably just want to find out who's in their forest.' He said with more certainty than he felt. 

She did not say anything after that, but he could tell she was still worried. He turned and saw Theodore still lying on the ground in the center of the clearing. He quickly bound his sword to his back and picked up the unconscious Theodore. He hastily carried him over to the carriage. Dettella saw him coming through the window and opened the door for him. 

"Please keep an eye on my friend. He's got bad wounds." He said as he carefully laid his friend down on the bench. 

She nodded, looking him straight in the eye. "I will protect him with my life if necessary." She said, showing the knife she'd taken from Yalene. Her expression showed only determination, no fear. 

"I... Thank you." Sam said, nodding back to her. He shut the door and strode up next to Darrel. 

"Do not attack unless they do. Ideally we can get out of this without having to fight. It would be a difficult battle without my other men." Darrel said. 

Sam looked around, suddenly realizing that the other two guards weren't there anymore. "Where'd they go?" 

"I sent them to scout the road ahead. They are likely dead or captured." He replied, devoid of emotion. 

"Damn..." 

"If we have to fight, our best chance is to cut through their line and flee." Fenella said to Sam's right. She twirled the large, dark colored knives deftly. Darrel nodded, seeming to reevaluate her. 

"You know how to fight?" Sam asked her. 

"Better than you." She said. Sam wasn't sure what to think of that. She seemed to be as full of surprises as he was. Not for the first time, he wondered how old she really was. 

The soft rustling slowly became a loud thud and scratch of many loping hoshind. 'There are probably less than it sounds.' He told himself. 'I mean, they have six legs so it just sounds like a lot.' 

Gold and orange eyes suddenly seemed to appear in the darkness around the clearing. Letta snarled. Deep and angry. A dozen hoshind growled back. From the trees, a woman stepped out. Her bright blonde hair stood out against the pitch black darkness around them. A long, straight backed saber shone in the dim moonlight from her left hand. 

"Mother?" Feima said, standing up. 

"Feima." Was the only reply as the woman strode toward her daughter purposefully. 

The humans just waited, watching curiously as she completely ignored them. At first, Sam thought she was staring at Feima. But, after looking more closely he realized she was focused on the hoshind cowering behind her. Belleby peeked around the elf girl, his ears pressed back, head lowered meekly. 

"Have you come to save me, mother?" The girl asked. 

The woman did not respond. She approached her daughter and shoved her out of the way. In a flash, she struck. A pitiful whine let out for a short moment as the elf woman swung her sword into Belleby's broad head. She slashed down, over and over. Sam stared in shock as she beat the poor creature's head into a pulpy mess of blood, bone and gray clumps of brain. Crimson splashed on the woman's face and gleamed on her sword. The loyal hoshind was dead before anyone could react. 

Feima let out a wretched scream that was so miserable that Sam thought he could feel her pain through it. She continued screaming as she ran stumbling into the forest. Tearing red gouges in her face as she went. Her mother stared off after her daughter, looking as if she wanted to chase after her, but she did not. 

"NOW!" She shouted, and all was chaos. 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 8. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Please leave a comment if you have time, I really enjoy hearing what people think. Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, related to the story or not, I'm happy to answer. What I'm getting at is that I really like to talk to people because I'm a sad, lonely man. P.S. I post progress updates in my bio incase anyone is curious about where I'm at. P.P.S Hehe, another cliffhanger... Chapter 9 fight scene hype! 

~ DS



Bound in Spirals Ch. 09



Author's Note: 

I know I said a few chapters back that sex would happen somewhere around this time but, uh... sorry, still not quite there yet. My story is really based mostly on whatever my brain shits out as I go, other than most of the major plot points and whatnot. It's kinda a fill between the lines sort of deal. Anyways, as I'm sure most of you who've reached this point are aware, I don't feel like forcing in pointless sex, so I suppose you'll just have to wait a while longer. Don't worry though, when it does happen it'll be hot as fuck.(hehe) 

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above. 

————— 

Sam was still frozen where he stood when the attackers burst from the trees. He'd just witnessed the brutal slaughter of an innocent, intelligent creature. He tried to go after Feima's mother, who had mercilessly killed Belleby, but was cut off. A huge hoshind sprinted at him, it's front claws rising to slash at him. A rider sat on its back, jabbing down at him with a lance. He instinctively spun and ducked simultaneously, dodging both attacks. 

His sword was drawn by the time the hoshind turned to run at him again. Behind the mounted creature, he saw Letta chomp down viciously on an elf trying to stab at her legs. Blood and flesh burst from between her teeth like the juice from a popped grape. She saw him and started toward him, but was forced to stop as a group of six hoshind made a half circle before her. Sam's attention was pulled away as the hoshind and jockey lunged for him again. 

He twisted and jumped to the left, his sword slashing into the creature's middle leg. It howled, rearing back and stomping down at him. He dodged again, but the beast managed to lacerate his left arm. Gritting his teeth, he summoned his magic. He closed his eyes against the light, preserving his night vision as the piercing glow lit the clearing. It darkened as he released it and opened his eyes. 

The hoshind stumbled back, both it and it's rider suddenly blinded. Sam used the opportunity and lunged. He sliced into the beast's eyes. And as it yanked it's head back he slashed again, cutting it's throat on his backswing. Hot blood sprayed his face. He jumped back, wiping his eyes. The elf tumbled from his saddle, and Sam made toward him. It was unnecessary however, as the small man's neck was broken by the fall. 

'Behind!' Samson warned. Sam whirled, catching the attacker's sword on his through pure luck. The woman pulled back her short sword and stabbed at his gut. The blade glanced off his side as he danced to the right. Hot pain was accompanied by a grunt as he quickly grasped for his power. 

This elf was ready for it and hid her eyes behind her shield, jabbing blindly at him again. He parried her attacks clumsily, wishing Samson had been able to teach him how to use his sword more. Another wound was made in his stomach before his first had sealed, and he was forced to close his eyes against the light as he forced more power into his body. 

'Another coming from your left!' Samson called again. 

'Damn, I can't keep getting hit like this! I need to be able to see!' He leapt right, avoiding an attack he couldn't see. 

'It's hard for me to hold back the side effects! Let go of your magic already!' Samson said. 

Sam released his magic and opened his eyes. Before him, the two elves stood, the newer arrival brandishing her two short swords. They converged, attacking in a flurry of movement. He knew instantly that he couldn't hold them off long as he blocked their rapid blows. 

'Let me take control!' Samson said. 

'Good idea.' Sam pulled back and swung with all his strength to drive them back, if only for a moment. They both dodged back, and he let his body relax. He felt his body begin to move, but he wasn't controlling it. 

He ducked a swing from the dual wielder, and slashed at her legs. His sword lodged in bone and he yanked the blade free, pulling her legs from under her at the same time. She screamed as she fell backward. 

"Damn, I'm not used to such a light blade." Samson muttered, the words coming out Sam's mouth. 

He diverted another strike from the first elf and let go of the sword with his left hand. Stepping in close, he struck at her face. She reeled back with a bloody nose, crying out as her eyes began to water. Her shout became a scream as Samson severed her sword arm at the wrist with a clean upswing. He kicked against her shield, shoving her back as the dual wielder tried to rise. 

Samson pounced, his boots coming down on the woman's shoulders. She struggled to move beneath him, but his weight pinned her down. He stabbed the narrow blade into her neck. She gurgled blood as she tried to breath, then it turned into a soft death rattle as he dragged the sword out. Suddenly, he stumbled. 

'What's wrong?' Sam asked. 

"Hah, I feel exhausted somehow. Your body is hard to get used to I think." Samson replied in a whisper. 

'What? But, my body doesn't feel very tired.' 

'Perhaps it's not your body then.' Samson replied, giving control back to Sam. 

'Shit. That didn't last very long.' Sam thought, gritting his teeth. 

He looked down at the elven woman who had dropped her shield. She was screaming hysterically, holding her severed hand to her bleeding wrist. He pulled back to strike her down, but something held him back. Instead, he slammed the hilt of his sword on her head. She fell back, unconscious. 

'What are you doing?' Samson asked, sounding exhausted but alert. 

Sam ignored his question and looked around. As he watched, Darrel spun and struck, taking the heads of two hoshind in one fluid movement. His sword cleaved through them as if they were warm butter. Even as Sam turned his head away, Darrel took the lives of another rider and mount. Fenella was fighting off a set of three elves. Her long knives seeming to move in a blur as she blocked and stabbed. 

One elven man was nicked by her blade and stared down at his arm in confusion as it began to fall apart in flakes of skin and chunks of flesh. Before he could react it had eaten it's way to his shoulder and he stumbled back, screaming for his mother as his body fell apart. 'Jesus Christ. That is terrifying.' Sam thought. 

Then, he saw Letta. She was still struggling to fend off the the group of hoshind, which had been reduced to five. Blood matted the fur of her head and forepaws, not all of it hers. Deep gashes striped her sides and legs. 

'Letta! Are you alright?' Sam asked, immediately sprinting toward her. 

'Uu... For now...' Letta replied in a pained tone. 

'Watch where you're going idiot!' Samson cried out. He managed to stop just before the charging hoshind hit. It reached out as it barreled past, catching his right hand with a claw. 

His sword fell from his hand and he bit back a scream as it was torn through between middle and ring finger. Clutching his hand he was forced to roll to the side as the riderless hoshind pivoted and leapt for him. Magic flowed into him and his hand was mended by the time he was standing up again. He realized then that the ten foot tall hoshind had positioned itself between him and his sword. 

"Damn." He cursed, backing away from the creature. The beast lunged and Sam didn't know what to do. 

It was on him before he had the chance to dodge. Next thing he knew, he was being lifted into the air by two massive paws... 

——— 

Dettella sat in the carriage, observing the chaos of the battle unfold. She was watching Darrel in particular, his flowing movement as beautiful as any dance she'd seen. He moved with an agility that didn't fit his size, parrying and slicing in single flowing twists of his longsword. Then, he stopped. Only one elf remained before him. A woman. 

She held a long, curved blade with a single edge. It was a tinted with a bright orange color. Thousands of thin lines etched a flamelike pattern along the flat of it. A felnn sword. They were instantly recognizable. Even Darrel's blade, which was a light gray, could be recognized as a felnn blade easily. The intricate patterns of flowing, pale pink announced it as plainly as if 'felnn sword' had been written on the side. The almost skin colored lines on the sword seemed to shudder slightly as Darrel watched the short woman. 

Her face displayed only slight interest, and his looked almost bored. It might have been mistaken for that if not for his eyes, which were shining with a sharp focus. With no warning, she moved. Her sword parting the air almost visibly as it went for his legs. Darrel jumped over the blade, his own slashing down at the woman in a blur. She barely managed to pull back and redirect the strike, eyes widening for the briefest of moments. 

Before the woman could counter, Darrel struck again. His sword flashing toward her left arm. She blocked it, but it jarred her. Again, Darrel was swinging. The elf woman was still recovering from the blow as his sword swept up. She did parry the attack, but as she jumped back Dettella could see a small vertical cut dripping on her cheek. Breathing heavily, the elf no longer looked so composed. Sweat sprouting on her forehead. On the contrary, Darrel barely showed any sign of tiring. His deep breaths making his coat tighten against his chest. 

Then they were moving again, blades whizzing through the air in movements Dettella couldn't follow. Clangs that seemed to echo, rang out over the din. It seemed like he had the advantage, but she still watched with bated breath. She knew from watching duels that a fight could change pace in an instant. Suddenly, they parted again and this time Darrel was sporting a shallow slash across his jawline. The woman seemed more in control of herself now despite the small cut on her opposite cheek, almost perfectly symmetrical to the first. 

Darrel moved again within a second of their parting, his blade arcing at her neck. She reacted quickly, her blade coming up to block the slash. The blades never connected. Darrel's sword twisted sharply within an inch of her's. It cut into her exposed fingers, blood splashing out as bone and flesh alike were severed with ease. The woman darted back, a suppressed scream escaping her gritted teeth. She brought her sword back up, but it was two slow. His sword came up in a diagonal, sliding through her ribs, up through her sternum, and out her left shoulder. 

The woman fell back, the top piece bouncing slightly as it hit the ground. The corpse twitched with the last seconds of life before falling still. Darrel stood over her for a moment as the felnn blade seemed to lose it's faint glow, and the lines on the flat stopped moving. He seemed to give a moment of respect before turning away as a hoshind charged him. Dettella's attention was drawn away by a shout of surprise. She gasped. 

She watched in horror as the hoshind grasped Sam, one paw around his legs and the other around his chest. It began to pull, muscles below fur rippling with effort. It bellowed a deep roar, followed shortly by a scream of such excruciating pain that she could almost feel it with him. She heard a brutal tearing sound then a loud snap like the breaking of a tree branch. Sam was then tossed aside like trash, his torso falling to the left and his lower half to the right. 

She wanted to scream, but all that came out was a terrified whimper as the hoshind's owner directed it toward her carriage from a distance. It bounded toward her, and she knew that the wooden carriage would not protect her. She had no choice but to leave the wounded man and Yalene inside as she opened the door, and ran out. She was stopped in her tracks as a blinding bright light engulfed the entire clearing and then swelled even further into the surrounding forest. 

Everything seemed to stop at once as intricate spiraling patterns spread over the ground like writhing snakes. The hoshind tried to keep running, but as the gold and silver forms slid up it's body it was pulled to the ground. It's body shuddered and shook, as if below an enormous weight. A laughter of unimaginably deep happiness broke the utter silence. Despite herself, Dettella found she was smiling. 

CRUNCH! The hoshind before her was crushed to the ground like a beetle. The laughter grew louder as the creature's whimpers died out, and all that was left in it's place was a pool of fur, bone and innards. Dettella's smile began to fade as she realized what was happening to her. The magic that had flowed along the ground had made it's way up her body and was piercing her mind with it's demented joy. She forced her terror to rise up over the glee, overwhelming it. 

She gasped, "Wh-What...? So... So much power..." 

The man who'd been torn apart only moments before was now lying in the grass in one piece, laughing. Tears streaked his face as magic seemed to permeate the air about him, looking like a scintillant cloud. She couldn't take her gaze away from him as the magic seemed to grow and flow outward. 

"This... This man... How could one man bear with so much power...?" She whispered. "Is this a god?" 

"No," She heard a soft voice say behind her, "that, is no man, nor god. That, is a demon..." 

'Yalene...' She thought, recognizing her still girlish voice. Then, just as suddenly as the blanket of swirls had spread, it was gone. For a moment she thought she'd been blinded by it, but as her night vision began to return she knew the magic had just ceased. She blinked wondering what had happened. The laughter had stopped. 

——— 

Thud... Thud... "...Oww..." Sam moaned, the pounding headache felt like a bat was beating against the inside of his skull. He tried to open his eyes, but the brightness of the sun above him just added some nails to the bat. 

"Are you awake?" Someone asked. 

"Unfortunately..." He replied, gently touching the side of his head where the pain seemed to originate. "What... happened?" 

"Darrel hit you in the head." She replied. 

"Huh? Why?" He said, a little too loudly. "Ow ow!" He tried to access his magic, but it was as if he was trying to pick up water. "Someone fix my damn head..." 

"Alright." Sam realized it was Dettella when she touched his head and he saw her beautiful moon silver forms. He blinked and took a deep breath. "As for why Darrel hit you, your magic went out of control and was attacking people indiscriminately. You nearly killed your own familiar before he got to you." 

It took him a moment to take in what she said. 'Letta. I hurt Letta?' He shot up, grunting at the stiffness in his back. "Letta! Where are you?! Are you okay?!" 

"She's alright, Samson. She is right over there." Dettella said, pointing to the huge, snoring form of Letta. She was lying on her side, her back against the trees at the perimeter. 

He sighed in relief. 'Thank god. I don't know what I would've done if I'd killed her...' He combed his hair back with his shaking fingers, feeling the dried blood crusted in it. He finally looked at Dettella, seeing her sitting next to him on her knees. Her violet dress stained with blood. She looked slightly worried. 

"Are you alright?" She asked. 

"Yeah, I'm fine I think. Just a bit stiff. Why?" 

She hesitated, "...You were ripped in half by that hoshind. Realistically, you shouldn't be alive. Even with magic." 

As she said the words, the memories came flooding back. They hit him like a semi truck and he suddenly felt nauseated. He clutched at his head, remembering the pain. In that moment, just after the excruciating sensation of being torn apart, he'd thought he was going to die. He should have. Then, he vaguely remembered Samson forcibly taking over and letting loose with all that magic. 

The thoughts he'd had... He shuddered. He'd been planning to slowly crush everyone to death with his magic, and rape them as they died. Feel their will to live wither and see the defeat in their eyes as they gave up. Not even Theodore had been spared. The ecstasy he would have felt was immense. And that was only the beginning of it. Just what he'd been able to come up with in the short time before he'd lost consciousness. The images lingered in his mind so vividly that if he hadn't known any better, he'd have thought they actually happened. 

Sam leaned over and vomited up sour bile. Tears fell from his eyes as the guilt overwhelmed him. He looked around, seeing the wary look on Fenella's face as she watched from a distance sent him over the edge. "I-I can't..." He stammered, "I-I need to g-go..." 

He climbed to his feet and stumbled away. Into the forest he walked, still holding his head as the tears flowed ceaselessly... 

——— 

Dettella watched him stagger away, the look of absolute horror on his face haunting her. She was tempted to follow him and try to talk to him. But as she made to chase after, Darrel stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him and he gave a shake of his head. His face was as emotionless as ever, but his eyes showed a deep understanding as he looked into the forest where Sam had disappeared. 

"Best leave him alone for a while." Was all he said as he turned and made his way back to the small group of prisoners they'd managed to capture. 

"Shouldn't someone reassure him at least?" Dettella asked, a frown marring her face. 

"Won't help." Darrel replied softly, more emotion in those two words than she was used to from him. 

'What does that mean?' She wondered. 'A commoner thing perhaps?' He glanced back over his shoulder to the trees, and in that moment he looked much older. The aged steel gray eyes and matching hair at his temples seemed to stand out, the normally subtle wrinkles more pronounced. For once she wasn't curious about the normally stoic man's past. For something to affect Darrel so much, it must have been truly terrible. 

She followed after him toward the prisoners, noticing the hardening of his face as he turned to look at them. His moment of revealed weakness gone in the blink of an eye. As she thought about it though, that stony visage seemed more and more like a mask. A shield. 

Her thoughts turned back to Samson for a moment, who she'd met only 12 hours before. She had taken a liking to him, beyond her usual curiosity about everything. Having an infamous legend for a familiar, being the most powerful mage she'd likely ever meet, speaking fluent elvish, and seemingly more secrets besides were not the makings of a dull person. But again, her fascination was beyond mere curiosity. 

She was worried about him, and had sat by his side while he was unconscious for over an hour. Something she wasn't wont to do for most people she'd just met, or even people she was familiar with for that matter. And if that wasn't enough, she had wondered if he found her attractive! Normally she didn't bother too much with her appearance aside from bathing and brushing her hair, but now she was fighting the urge to style her hair and put makeup on. 

'Did I hit my head during the tumble with the gurilthenn perhaps? I believe I might have... but I already checked for signs of concussion!' She shook her head in frustration. She didn't have time to ponder such things. They had to decide what to do with their prisoners. 

"What shall we do with them?" She asked Darrel who was looking at the four elves bound to the tree with his usual expression, or lack thereof. 

"...None of them seem to speak the human tongue, north or south. I'd hoped to have Samson interpret for us, but it he will likely be out of commission for a time." Darrel replied absently, seemingly off in his own thoughts. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 09



Dettella frowned, glancing back at where Sam had disappeared once again. "I know a little elvish, but only basic speech. I can't do much beyond asking directions to an inn." She said. 

"In that case, I will do a little scouting in the meantime. I'd like to find out the fate of the other high guards." And with that, Darrel stalked off toward their remaining winnem and rode out of the clearing. 

'Well, so much for deciding what to do with them...' She thought, looking down at the despondent group. She recognized one woman in particular as being the one Sam had fought, removing her hand and leaving her unconscious. The other three had been dispatched by Darrel. She had mended their wounds upon realizing they were still alive after the battle. Yalene had protested that, claiming that they deserved to die but Dettella had already started ignoring her ridiculous opinions. Yalene had yet to learn of her short remaining time as her handmaiden. 

Dettella had decided to wait to inform her until they had reached the capital of Leddin, Geylin, where she could find a new maid. Preferably one less opinionated and more competent. She glanced over to the carriage, where Yalene knelt over a bucket of water, cleaning clothes. 'I need something to do...' 

She walked away from the elves and looked around the blood soaked clearing. She wrinkled her nose at the coppery smell mixed with decay and feces. Battle, like many things in the real world, was not so glamorous as in the books. Something she'd been expecting yet somehow was still surprised about. Fenella, the apparent medicine woman, was examining the gaunt, unconscious friend of Sam's. 

His face was covered by an unkempt beard of reddish blonde, hiding a visage that would have been handsome if not for the sunken cheeks and unhealthy pallor. Fenella was currently pouring an herbal mixture, of a particularly nasty green color into his mouth. Dettella's gaze left her, and turned to the massive, sleeping form of the argwolf. Even now, she could hardly believe that the actual Letta from the legends was there before her. She'd been eager to converse with her, but was unable to do so without Sam as a go between. 

She tried to remember the prophecy that Lady Everen had tried to fulfill, but could only remember snippets. 'Something about her titles being Queenkiller and The Hanged Woman. And I think a white and black queen were mentioned.' She paused. 'Well, she'd certainly killed a queen... and been hanged.' 

Dettella had never been particularly interested in the prophecies, of which that was only one of many. She was more interested in the tale of the journey up to Everen's death. Which, fortunately for her, had been taken directly from the woman herself before her rather anticlimactic demise. 

Eventually, Dettella realized that there wasn't very much she could do at that moment. Well, there were corpses she could dispose of, but that wasn't really her thing. So, she went to the carriage and read her books. 

——— 

When Sam finally stopped walking, it was already evening. It was hard to tell through the thick foliage, but it was certainly darker out. The tears had long since dried away. Even with no moisture left in his eyes he'd continued to weep dry sobs, but now they ceased. He scrubbed away the crusted mucus that ran over his lips with the back of his hand. He glanced around, wondering where he was. 

The trees surrounding him seemed even larger than those he'd seen in the forest so far, if that was even possible. Absently, he wondered how long it would take just to cut through the thick, lichen covered bark of one, let alone the whole tree. Then, he noticed that he wasn't alone. Curled up below one of the trees in the fetal position, was a blue haired elf girl. 

It looked as if she'd cried herself to sleep he deduced based on the dried residue that streaked down her cheeks. For a moment, he didn't recognize Feima. Not because she was sleeping peacefully, because she wasn't. But because she had a grimace, not of anger, of grief and terror. Sam remembered the moment Belleby's life fire had been snuffed out. It was brutal and gory, not something a young girl would get over seeing easily. Especially since he was her beloved friend. 

He considered waking her, but decided against it, choosing instead to sit against a tree a short distance from hers. Sighing softly, he did the exercises for calming a panic attack. He wasn't having one at that moment, but it helped to relax him anyway. After a while, he began to think. He thought about Theodore, his friend, and getting him the help he needed. He thought about Letta, who in barely a week was acting almost like an older sister to him, with a hint of motherly protectiveness. He thought about Dettella, the strikingly beautiful princess with her curious eyes of bright emerald. 

Eventually, he thought about his stepmother and half sister. He came to the sudden realization then, that he hated them. He'd never really thought he hated anyone before. Sure, he'd disliked people, even been angry with them, but hate? It was such an intense feeling. He might have felt like he hated them at times, but this was different. Sam couldn't remember ever feeling so strongly about it before, so vehemently despising them. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling so strongly about anything. 

Ever since his father's death and their torments began, he'd been numb to most emotions. He would feel them, but they were dull, seemingly far away. This hatred he felt now, though. It was powerful and immense, like the years of suffering at their hands had culminated into that one ball of absolute, blazing hatred. And in that moment, he decided that if he ever made it back to his world, he would make them suffer as he had, and still did. 

He hated them for making him weak, for making him fear. It was awful, that feeling of powerlessness. He thought back to what his father had told him so long ago, when he was barely 8, after a fight with Madeline. The reason he never fought back. 

His father squatted down before him, meeting him eye to eye. "You can't hit girls unless they're trying to kill you, Sammy. Even if they hit you, you can't hit back. Men are naturally bigger and stronger, so you must bear it." He said. "Do you understand? You've seen how Britney gets when we fight? I don't throw anything back at her, because I love her and it's wrong for a man to hurt the woman he loves like that." 

"O-Okay... B-But," Sam started, rubbing away his tears and swallowing his sobs, "if she throws things at you and hits you and stuff, doesn't that mean she doesn't love you?" 

"I... No, Sammy you don't quite understand. Britney is just passionate. You'll understand eventually." His father explained. He paused, then continued, "You trust me, right Sammy?" 

"Yes daddy." He replied, sniffling. 

"Then please just listen to me on this. Once you're a bit older it will make more sense, alright?" He ruffled Sam's hair, giving him a warm smile. "I love ya pal, you know that right?" 

"Yeah." Sam said with a giggle. "I love you too daddy." 

"Alright, now go apologize to Maddie for fighting." 

"Okay, I will." 

Sam wondered now if his father had really been right. He had questioned it before, but those words always made him hesitant. 'You trust me, right Sammy?' He felt that he had to trust his father. He was the only person who loved him, who cared for him. If he couldn't trust his father, who else in the world could he trust? But now, he seriously questioned if his father's words had been right. Passion sounded more and more like an excuse for Britney's behavior the longer he thought about it.  

He held his head in his hands, feeling his hate replaced by dread. He had held onto those words for so long, through so much it had almost become subconscious. Was he seriously doubting his father? Or did he perhaps still just not understand his father's words? 

'Dad wouldn't have wanted me to get hurt, but... but what if he was in the same position as I was? Did he believe his own words? Can someone really claim to love someone they actively try to harm?' He feared the answers to his questions. 'I have clung to those words through so much, but what if I could have stopped it the whole time if only I had defended myself?' 

Sam didn't like the thoughts flooding into his mind. 'No! Dad has to be right! I-I can't...' He rocked back and forth, his breath coming out raggedly. 'I-I can't lose my trust in him... Not after... Not after his words helped me survive all this time.' He was hyperventilating now. Each breath feeling painful as he forcefully held back his tears. 

Deep down, somewhere in the area of his mind that was still sane, Sam knew he was just hiding from the truth of it all. That his father's words had led him to more pain. Had made him try to live through the abuse and manipulation. He couldn't handle the fact that his father had betrayed him, regardless of whether he'd meant to. Sam hid behind a wall of denial. Refusing to accept. 

Suddenly, he giggled. It grew from a giggle to a chuckle, then to a laugh. He sat there below the tree, laughing hysterically as he rocked himself back and forth. He cackled madly, unsure why he did. Everything just seemed funny for some reason. Eventually, an indeterminate time later, his laughter died down as he was forced to succumb to the mental and physical fatigue, falling into a fitful sleep filled with nonsensical nightmares of his father. In them, his father stabbed his heart. Over and over. Smiling in his usual heartwarming way all the while... 

——— 

Feima woke from her nightmare-ridden sleep. For a moment, she forgot what had caused those nightmares but unfortunately, it only lasted that moment. The images came pouring back with excruciating clarity. Belleby. He was gone, dead. By her own mother's hand. She remembered the pained yelp he gave off just before he died. Then she'd felt his every emotion and thought as he passed into the void beyond life. 

She felt more warm tears falling from her eyes as she sat, back against the crusty bark of the elddin tree. 'Feima, please save me!' The words haunted her. The pain and sorrow in Belleby's words was overwhelming. He'd just wanted to be able to communicate with her, to be close to her. His innocent, dog-like loyalty and caring for her had pierced her heart like an arrow right at the end. And her mother had taken all of that and crushed it like an inconsequential bug. 

She wanted to run, to escape the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She had tried last night, tried to run away. The grief had followed, inescapable. 'I cannot go back... I cannot...' She rubbed furiously at her eyes. 'I warned you, mother. I told you that I would go to the land of the humans.' 

Pulling her hooked knife from her belt, she stood. Turning, she shaved away some of the bark from the tree and began carving. When she finished, it read: "I go to the land of the humans. Do not search for me mother. When we meet again I will kill you." Feima grunted, satisfied. Her grief was overshadowed by the anger and determination that rose up inside her. 'I will make you regret ever even thinking of killing Belleby.' 

Feima turned away from the tree, ready to begin walking south immediately. When she saw the man there, she froze. For a second, her anger at her mother was redirected, but quickly dissipated and grief threatened to rise up again. Belleby had been grateful to this man, who had given him the ability to talk to her, who had connected them through his magic. She couldn't hate him, as much as she wanted to. A thought came up unbidden, 'My mother is more a savage than this human.' 

The realization shook the foundation of her very being. The thought that everything she'd been taught, even things from before she could talk might be a lie, was disturbing to say the least. She shook her head, not wanting to contemplate the magnitude of that realization. She took a closer look at the man named Samson, frowning in puzzlement. 

His face was caked with coagulated blood, except for a few streaks where tears had obviously fallen. He was clearly asleep, leaning back against the tree, his arms wrapped tightly about his legs. Soft, high-pitched giggles escaped his lips every few seconds and his closed eyes flickered and shifted. As she watched, he relaxed slightly, settling into a barely audible snore. Then, he began to giggle again and his body tensed. 

'What happened to him?' She wondered, surprised to find she was a little worried. She vaguely recalled the sounds of fighting behind her as she'd ran into the forest. 'Did he run from the battle?' 

A crackle of dry leaves broke her from her thoughts, and she whirled. Down the direction she'd come she could see a flash of color. Feima ran, her silent feet automatically taking her toward her home. When she realized where she was going, she reluctantly turned to the south. Toward the land of the humans. 

——— 

Tenall looked down on her younger brother, anger boiling inside her. Her eye twitched uncontrollably and her scowl deepened. Someone had tried to kill her brother. Someone had the gall to try to deprive her of her prey. That wouldn't do. Dettella had already slipped through her fingers, almost completely out of reach. She wouldn't allow another to escape their fate so easily. No, Hennel would get his in time, but she would save him for second to last. 

Her mother had been a glorified whore, her cunt big enough to fit a dozen men at once. As such, in the meantime she had plenty of other half siblings to fill the wait for his recovery. 213 to be exact. In fact, she had her youngest sister waiting in her quarters right that minute. Children's screams, she was finding, were some of the most pleasing to her ears. It was unfortunate that most of them broke so quickly. 

One brother, who had been barely 11, had lost his mind after she only pried off his toenails. That was quite a disappointing evening, she wasn't even able to get herself off afterward. The best were the ones that tried to resist, much more satisfying. She realized that her mind was wandering and decided that she'd been there long enough. 

She made her way through the room, skirting the clutter of sharp instruments and the portable shelves of poultices and other odd mixtures. She grimaced in disgust. Healing, such a filthy procedure. Trying to calm herself, she thought happy thoughts. 

'At least he'll live the rest of his short life with the pain of that wound. Heehee...' That blighted little elf had informed her of the excruciating pain Hennel must be in. So, some good came out of it at least. Regardless, she would have to find who had done this. Such an insult would not go unpunished. 

She stepped out into the hall, where her guards were waiting. Along with the elf and Hennel's idiot friend. "You." She said, looking at the elf. "How long until he wakes?" 

"Y-Your majesty, I cannot be certain." He said, voice quavering as he bowed low. "I b-believe he should wake within the week. I-I cannot b-be certain." 

Her cheek twitched, wanting to sneer at the nasty creature. "Be sure to give him the highest priority." She said, then turned to the foul friend. "You. Find out who did this. I will have their head at my feet." 

His expression showed a hint of a frown, but he quickly recovered. "Of course, my queen." He replied, tousled black hair draping over his face as he bowed. 

Tenall's face twitched again at the abysmal bow. 'I will take you in time. Perhaps when I take Hennel.' She strode down the hall her guards close behind, toward the queen's quarters. 'Perhaps I will have you fuck him in the ass while I watch.' A grin broke out, looking warped on her face which was accustomed to the more negative expressions. 'In time...' 

——— 

Dettella followed behind with Darrel on winnem as Letta followed Sam's trail. He hadn't spoken much since returning alone from his scouting earlier. Not that he usually spoke a lot, but he'd barely even said a couple words. He'd just spoken to the argwolf, then asked Dettella to follow along. She'd been hesitant to ask what he'd found of the other high guard. Based on his silence and the two riderless winnem he'd returned with she assumed it wasn't positive news. 

She frowned, looking down at her riding dress. It's rough, blue fabric chafed at her legs uncomfortably, and her bottom was sore from the saddle. She realized that riding winnem long distance wasn't something she would like to do again anytime soon. Short distance was fine though, she was used to that at least. 'Well, I did choose to come. I cannot complain.' 

Suddenly, the argwolf's ears perked up and her sniffing became more intense. She glanced back at them her eyes seeming to flash, then she darted forward. 'Finally,' Dettella thought, 'it's almost night!' 

The winnem protested slightly as she and Darrel kicked them forward, but they eventually sped up. Letta was almost out of sight now, her dark gray fur hard to see in the fading light. She vanished from view, but came back in a few minutes later. The huge beast had stopped, her massive form wrapped around a tree. Her head rested on her paws, looking at a shape at the roots of the enormous tree with eyes filled with worry. 

As they approached, Dettella recognized the hunched shape as Sam. He appeared to be asleep, except for the occasional giggle and soft murmuring. She frowned, 'What...? What happened?' They dismounted, watching as Letta nuzzled the rocking form with her snout. His eyes snapped open. 

"...F-Father... Fa... Father save me..." Sam said, barely more than a whisper. "I-I... Stop, stop the pain... please..." 

Dettella glanced at Darrel. He stood still next to his winnem, his face as utterly emotionless as she'd ever seen. His eyes were shadowed below his brow as he watched the delirious young man. She turned her gaze back on Sam, her brow drawn in worry. 

"I-I can't do... I can't go on like this..." He murmured. Letta nudged him again, more urgently this time. 

"This..." Darrel started. "This goes beyond battle hysteria. I urge you to be cautious, princess. He looks to be unhinged." Then in softer tones he continued, "Worst I've seen..." 

The argwolf looked at them with desperation in her eyes when Sam continued to give no response. Dettella stepped forward, she couldn't help herself. She knelt down before the man, who stared sightlessly at his knees as he rocked. The cold blue eyes looked feral, untamed. 

"Lord Samson?" She said softly, comfortingly. "Are you alright?" 

It was clear that he wasn't alright, but she didn't know what else to say. He didn't respond, just kept rocking and muttering unintelligibly. She tentatively placed her gloved hand over his, which was clutched to his knee with a white knuckled grip. He still didn't reply. She hesitated, unsure what to do. Looking at Darrel, then to Letta she realized they didn't know what to do either. She looked back at her hand, and an idea came. 

Hesitantly she removed her glove, and replaced it over Sam's. As soon as her bare hand touched his her mind was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of his magic. Despite having glimpsed it before, the magnitude of it was staggering. She almost felt dizzy as she stared into the depths of the beautiful gold and silver ringleted forms. Suddenly, she felt a painful grip on her arm and her eyes refocused. 

Sam was staring at her, his eyes wide. She yelped at the strength of the grip and heard Darrel start forward. She held up her hand to stop him, and stared back into Sam's gaze. He looked at her with uncomprehending eyes, frozen in that position. His eyes seemed to shake in their sockets. The madness she'd seen in them earlier had magnified to the point that even an untrained eye could have noticed it. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 09



Straightening her back, she looked straight into his eyes with confidence. She looked deep into them, beyond the madness. In that moment, it seemed as if she were staring straight at his soul, and he stared back. In it, she could see overwhelming sorrow, pain, and loneliness. So much so that she could hardly comprehend it. Then his eyes flickered with a brief moment of recognition. 

"...Ms. A-Albright...? Wh-Why are y-you here?" Sam asked, his voice trembling. "Why... Why was that b-book in the archive room? Can I go back? I need to get the ring! Please, I need to get it!" 

"Lord Samson, I am Princess Dettella. Not... er... Miss Albright. I apologize." She replied, trying to make her tone soothing. "Do you... remember me?" 

"Prin...cess... Dett...ella...?" He muttered haltingly, his eyes losing focus for a moment. She felt a moment of disappointment, then Sam blinked. "Princess Dettella Reyall." He said with certainty. 

"You do remember me!" She said, unable to hold back the relief that made it's way into her voice. 

Recognition surged in his eyes anew. "So green..." He whispered inaudibly, but Dettella read his lips. 

Then, he suddenly let go of her arm. She glanced down at the bruising marks on her forearm, then back up. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she saw his expression. Absolute horror. He pushed himself back against the tree, looking like he was trying to escape something awful. 

"N-No... No, No I-I... I'm sorry, I didn't want to do it! I didn't mean to!" He spoke franticly, his eyes seemingly unable to leave hers. His body trembled convulsively. He eventually broke eye contact to lean over and vomit. 

Dettella instinctively reached for him, "What is it? You needn't apologize to me. You've done me no wrongs." 

He turned back to her. His face pale, eyes sunken with purple bags below them. His lip quivered and he sobbed, but no tears fell. 'What sort of suffering would break someone down so?' She wondered, suddenly feeling guilty for having thought the wild look in his eye exhilarating earlier. 'Had I known...' 

"I-I... D-Don't come near me!" Sam shied away from her reaching hand as she leaned toward him, looking at it as if it were a venomous snake. He muttered, "I-I raped you... I raped everyone..." 

She froze, bewildered. "What? No you didn't." She said firmly, but he'd already stopped listening. 'I... I think I understand a little now...' 

"Father, why...? Why would you do this to me? I loved you... Aahh, father... father I-I'm so fucked up... S-Save me..." He said, clutching at his chest. Grabbing for something that wasn't there. "Daddy, I love... I hate... you..." 

Finally, Dettella just lunged forward and grasped his hands. She ignored the blooming of magic in her mind as her bare right hand touched him. She held them firmly but not roughly. 

"Samson, look at me." She said. He did not. "Look at me!" She stared at him with her best stern expression. He returned her gaze with cautious trepidation. The fear in his eyes nearly made her pull back but she fought the urge. "I don't know exactly what you think you did, but you did not rape me, nor did you rape anyone else. It was just thoughts brought up by your magic. It was not real. Do you understand that? It never happened, and you need not feel guilt for it." 

For a moment she thought he didn't understand, but then he nodded slowly. "I... didn't do it..." He mouthed, looking down. 

"That's right. Everyone is fine." She said, feeling a smile spread across her face. 

"But, I would have done it. I would have done far worse. I would have if I hadn't been knocked out." Sam replied, no longer sounding frantic but coldly monotone. "I would have killed everyone." 

Dettella hesitated, the change in tone sending a chill down her spine. "...But you didn't. In fact, you saved me. And you saved Letta as well." She said, deciding to omit the fact that he'd nearly killed the argwolf soon after. 

He looked up at her, blue eyes seeming to pierce into her mind like icicles. Unlike before, they shared no insight into his emotions. They were shadowed beneath heavy lids, betraying a deep exhaustion that went beyond physical. His eyes flickered and Dettella felt like he was reading her like an open book in that moment. Then, they softened. In them she saw the mad, unhinged look recede like the tide. It did not disappear though. It continued to lurk in them dangerously, like a distant shark that could approach quicker than you could react. 

"What is wrong with me? Am I insane?" He asked softly. 

"No," Darrel replied from behind her, "You're just suffering from battle hysteria. It will fade with a little time." 

"Will it though?" Sam asked. Darrel did not reply. 

It was silent for a moment until Letta broke the silence with a puff of air directed at Sam's face. He looked at the argwolf, his hollow eyes seeming lost and vulnerable. Then, his gaze shifted back to Dettella. He glanced down at her hands which still held his. He blinked slowly, and she felt a flush of embarrassment. 

'Oh blight! I held on far too long!' She thought, quickly pulling away. She tried to step back, but his hand shot out and gripped hers again. She let out an involuntary gasp. 

"Thank you." Sam said, his soft voice sounding melancholy. "Even though you hardly know me, you pulled me out of that abyss. I appreciate it, more than you can understand." 

"I... I just did what anyone would do." She replied, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. To her chagrin, she could feel her cheeks grow hot. 

He did not reply, just looked into her eyes for a long moment. Then he released her hand, giving the slightest of nods. She turned away, and saw Darrel glance at her. Expecting to see a flash of amusement in his eyes, she was prepared to scowl at him. But, there was no humor in them, just a hint of worry as he watched Sam. 

"Well, we should be returning. It would be unfortunate if more elves attacked while we were away." Dettella said, her composure returning. Noting the odd, jagged script on the tree opposite, she looked to Sam for an answer. 

He was looking at Letta with an expression of shame, clearly communicating with her through the bond. The princess looked away, feeling like she was intruding somehow. She heard the argwolf snort loudly behind her as she strode to her nervous looking winnem. 

——— 

'Silly pup, you think a little magic will kill me? You underestimate my durability.' Letta said, snorting with derision. 

Sam knew she was putting on a facade, but it made him feel a bit better anyway. 'Alright. Well, I'm sorry nonetheless.' He replied, patting her huge snout. She did her mangled approximation of a grin and leapt up, her massive form shaking the tree she'd been wrapped around. 

'Get on. You wasted a lot of time over here and now I must make up for it.' She said as Sam glanced at the tree where Feima had been. 

Scrawled sloppily onto the tree were the words: "I go to the land of the humans. Do not search for me mother. When we meet again I will kill you." Sam scratched his head, grateful that she hadn't decided to kill him. 'Maybe Belleby said something to her.' He thought, feeling too exhausted to ponder it seriously. 

Letta knelt down to allow him onto her back and he turned away from the carving. 'That elf child was here.' She said. 'Do you wish to find her?' 

'No, it is unnecessary. Besides, I think we've caused her enough trouble.' He replied as he clambered up her side. 'Getting Theodore treatment is more important.' 

Letta just nodded her head and stood. The winnem below seemed minuscule as Sam looked down from her back. The winnem set off, and they followed. 

By the time they reached the clearing near the road it was nearly midnight. When they entered it, Sam felt he should have gasped or reacted someway at the sight. Even in the dark he could see the crushed remains of the hoshind scattered about, their elven masters mixed somewhere within. 'I did this?' He thought as he dismounted. Distantly, he knew it was horrifying. The destructive power resting dormant inside him had scared him, but simultaneously gave him a disgusting satisfaction. 

At that moment however, his eyes shifted over the clearing with a strange lack of emotion. Fenella and Yalene sat next to a smoldering fire, eating what looked to be chicken. Sam felt his mouth water, realizing it had been quite a while since he'd last eaten. He hardly noticed the expressions when the two looked their way, his mind subconsciously picking out the easiest distraction. That distraction was his hunger of course. 

He sat wordlessly on the portion of unbloodied grass around the fire. The gloom surrounding him momentarily forgotten. The bird that rested over the glowing coals dripped juice that popped and sizzled. He reached toward it, still unaware of the looks he was receiving. Thus, he was startled when he felt his hand slapped away. Looking at his hand, he wondered what that had been. He reached for the meat again, and was again surprised when his hand was smacked away. 

Finally he realized that it was someone warding him off and he looked up, his expression blank. Slowly turning his head, he looked first at Fenella who looked at him with caution writ across her features. It hadn't been her, she was on the opposite side. Then his weary gaze fell on Yalene. She glared at him with a mixture of revulsion and hatred. 

"The princess eats first you stupid man!" She said, a dribble of fat escaping the corner of her mouth. 

"How hypocritical of you." He replied in monotone, watching the globule of fat drip onto her dress. 

She glanced down at her dress where he was looking. "How dare you stare at my bosom with such foul hunger!" 

Sam couldn't see it, but behind him Dettella was fuming. She was fed up. "Shut your mouth Yalene." She said, her tone that of a queen's command. "Your imbecilic denigrations end now, or so help me I will send you into this blighted forest with nothing but a tanned hide." 

Yalene was frozen by shock, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to speak. She stared past Sam with the look of a scolded child, he hardly noticed. Dettella's imposing presence made him forget his hunger and, if only for a moment, he looked upon her grand figure, taken by awe. But his stomach was not to be forgotten long, protesting with a soft rumble. He began to reach for the chicken again and was stopped a third time. This time however it was not with a swatted hand, but a gentle touch. 

"I can serve you if you'd like, Lord Samson." The princess said with a soft smile as she knelt down a foot to his left. Her words left Yalene even more horrorstruck than the rebuke had. 

"Um, That'd, uh... That'd be great, thanks." He replied, feeling a small warmth bloom amongst the deep-seated despondence in his heart. 

Yalene somehow managed to regain enough composure to leak out a few words. "P-Princess, y-you can't!" 

Dettella glanced at the young woman as she plucked a leg from the bird. "I can and I will. I warn you that my patience is thin, so I recommend you speak each word like you walk on a bridge of cracked glass." Her words were quiet, but threatening. Yalene let out a choking sound as the princess handed Sam the juicy leg atop one of the steel plates he'd been gifted by Lorry. "Here you are." 

She smiled at him and he nodded to her thankfully, unable to speak with the saliva pooling in his mouth. Despite his hunger, Sam somehow managed to maintain a steady eating pace and not embarrass himself. He didn't remember much of the meal except that when he was done his thirst was quenched and his stomach felt near bursting. No words were spoken that he could recall and he met no complaints when he just laid down where he sat and fell asleep. 

——— 

Dettella looked down at the head resting on her lap, unsure of what to do. It appeared that he hadn't even realized where his head had fallen and had fallen asleep in seconds. Sam hadn't replied to any of her attempts at conversation during the meal, seemingly unaware of anyone around him. She hadn't been able to move his head off. He'd been sleeping so peacefully that she felt guilty and frankly, she didn't want to. 

"Princess, I suggest we leave soon. It would be ideal to arrive in Geylin before news of this reaches it. I was unable to find the remains of the first elf anywhere here. I believe she was able to escape." Darrel said. 

Before Dettella could respond, the healer spoke. "Princess, I would ask that you allow us to accompany you. The injured man's condition has taken a turn for the worse, and I believe it may be partially due to the rough conditions of our travel thus far. He would have a better chance for survival if he were to ride in your carriage." Fenella said. 

"That would be no inconvenience to me, or mine." Dettella replied. "I owe Lord Samson my life, and for that I would assist his dear friend as if he were my own. We will need to use his familiar to transport the prisoners anyhow, as we do not have the space for four more." 

Out of the corner of her eye, Dettella saw Yalene's mouth twitch. 'For once she holds her nescient tongue.' Fenella nodded her thanks, and rose. She shuffled over to her belongings and began redressing the wounds of the injured man. 

She looked back at Darrel, "Would you bring Lord Samson to the carriage and help the medicine woman with the other. Then we will need to mount the prisoners on the argwolf's back." He nodded and bent down, lifting the tall young man from the ground with ease. 

Less than an hour later they were on the road, with Letta following close behind among the trees. 

——— 

Sam woke to find himself in the princess's carriage. He'd been sleeping sitting up next to Theodore. He blinked away bleariness, taking in the interior bathed in silver light. He heard the patter of rain on the polished wood roof and the soft sound of turning pages. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around. Dettella was seated opposite him, next to a loudly snoring Yalene. 

"Good morning." She said quietly, looking up from her book. 

"Er... Good morning. Um, why am I in here?" 

"Ah, I figured you'd be able to sleep more easily in here than on Letta's back." She replied. "I thought you'd need it based on how exhausted you seemed after recent events." 

Sam nodded, his memories of the last day and a half flooding back to him. His mood darkened visibly. The unwelcome thoughts of his father bringing pain and disorientation. He felt awful, like he'd lost a part of himself somehow. He shuddered, catching himself starting to mumble incoherently. 

'I... I'm not going mad, am I? I'm not, right? Samson? Are you there? Tell me I'm not insane? Samson? Samson where are you, why aren't you responding? Answer me. Samson?' He giggled softly. 'Samson, that's enough. Stop messing with me. Samson? What are you doing? C'mon man quit fooling around! I-It's not funny anymore...' 

"I-I'm not insane, I-I-I'm not. I'm just stre-stressed-essed ou-out i-e-i-i... I am am am quite alright. Don't leave me a-a-alone-lone..." He whispered, words breaking like a scratched record. Unconsciously clutching his head, he brought his knees to his chest. 'Samson answer me, please. Don't leave me al-l-lone-lone. Answer me goddammit!' 

He felt a hand on his knee, and he looked up. She had scooted off the bench and knelt before him, her emerald eyes catching his. "Samson, it's alright. You aren't alone." She said, her expression somber. She pulled him into a hug. "I am here, and your friend is here. And, Letta isn't far either." 

He couldn't respond, his lips moving wordlessly as he sat there, arms now limp at his sides. Tears fell from his eyes, and he moved his trembling arms. He held onto Dettella for a long time like that, sobbing into her shoulder. Sam hated that he was crying, he felt so weak, so pathetic, but he couldn't stop. With every tear that fell a little of his fear and stress seemed to ebb away for a time. Dettella just let him cry out all of his pains, knowing that no words needed to be said... 

Eventually, Sam's crying ceased and he forced his arms to unclasp. He was blushing furiously, having realized he'd been crying into a princess's shoulder for half an hour. "I, uh... Sorry about that. I got a bit carried away." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head. 

"Please, don't worry. I didn't mind." She replied with a smile. 

Sam was captivated for a moment. 'That smile...' He thought, 'I think I could just look at that forever.' Unable to hold his tongue, he said, "Y-You're really pretty." 

He froze, realizing what he'd just said. His face felt like he'd pressed it into a sizzling grill. Quickly looking away, he berated himself for being an absolute idiot. 'Oh god. I'm a fucking moron. Holy shit why did I say that?!' He wanted to hide, but in the carriage there was no room. 'Crap, how am I supposed to...' 

His words cut off as he saw out of the corner of his eye the slight pinkish flush to her cheeks and the bashful smile. He had to turn to make sure his eyes hadn't deceived him, and they hadn't. In a mere moment, she had turned from a confident princess to a shy girl. She fidgeted in her seat. Sam blinked, unsure how to react. 'Wh-What?' 

A loud snort and a grunt interrupted Sam's thoughts, and he looked over to see Yalene waking up. Before he could say anything, Dettella had already regained her composure. "Thank you." Was all she said. 

"A-Ah, y-you're welcome." He said softly, his hand moving to rub the back of his head. 'Why do I get the feeling that I just saw something very unusual?' 

"Wha-Where are we?" Yalene asked, her bright red hair standing in messy clumps. She rubbed at her eyes. "Are we there yet?" 

"No. We still have another day or so to go." Dettella replied expressionlessly. "There is a small city not far from here that we will have to go through if we want to keep at the pace we're going. Lord Samson, I would ask that you have your familiar take a detour and meet us on the other side. It would be a troublesome thing to deal with questions about the prisoners, not to mention Letta herself." 

"Ah uh, yeah, I'll tell her. And um, I'm no lord or anything, so you don't need to call me that." He replied after a moment. He was still wondering if he'd really seen what he thought he had. Shaking his head, he spoke to Letta. 'Hey, there's supposed to be a town or something up ahead soon. You'll need to go around and meet us on the other side.' 

'...I do not approve of this.' Came the reply. 

'Well, if we go around it'll take much longer. Theodore is in a bad condition as it is, I don't wanna risk taking the long way.' 

'...Very well. Try to keep out of trouble. We do not need a repeat of Eltinn.' 

'Yeah yeah, I'll be careful. Just make sure you aren't seen. We'll meet you on the other side later, I guess.' 

Three hours later, they reached the outskirts of the city. "Huh, I wonder what this city's called." Sam said, looking at the absurdly large sign before them. 

"It says Fraeline right there." Yalene answered, pointing at the English translation below the elven lettering. 

"Oh wow how could I have missed that." He replied dryly. "Maybe they could've used neon orange instead of green. Make it easier to see, y'know?" 

Dettella covered a snicker with a cough. "Ahem. We should get moving. The sooner we're done here the less likely the news reaches the capital ahead of us." 

Darrel returned a moment later, a pair of elves on the backs of hoshind right behind him. Their elaborate armored uniforms of layered brown leather and green chain mail displayed their status as city guards. 

In broken english, one of them spoke. "We will bring to city. Not allow you die inside." 

Dettella leaned toward Sam, "It might be quicker if you did the talking." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 09



"Wh-Wha? Me?" 

"Yes you. You speak elvish don't you?" 

"Ah, y-yes. But I'm not, ah... Never mind." Sam gave in, seeing her imploring eyes. "We are uh, grateful for your help." 

The elven men both looked startled. They glanced at each other, then back to Sam. "Please follow us then. We will escort you through the city. I warn you to be wary, there are some radicals in the city that will see your appearance here as an insult. Unfortunately we cannot prevent all of them from attacking if they were to chose to." The elf said, but his tone did not sound so apologetic. 

With that, they headed for the gates into the city of Fraeline. 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 9. I'd be interested to hear if anyone had suggestions for improving my writing, I'm very open to criticism and I take every comment into consideration. So please feel welcome to leave one. I think being able to reach out to people and discuss the story or characters or anything really, is one of the best parts about writing. I pretty much reply to everything (other than insults without constructive criticism, of course).



Bound in Spirals Ch. 10



Hey! It's me again, DistortedSense. This is Bound in Spirals Chapter 10, as you can tell by the title. As a sort of congratulations to myself for reaching this point, I added 50% more content to this chapter (why did I do that?)! I've passed the 100,000 word mark. That's a lot of words. Anyways, enough with the self back-patting, enjoy the chapter! P.S. Thank you to everyone who has made it this far with me on this insane quest of pain and suffering (sorry Sam), I hope you will continue to read on as I cart us around this strange new world! 

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. 

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are at least 18 years of age. 

————— 

As they made to get back in the carriage, Darrel clasped his shoulder in a strong grip and looked him in the eye. "We must be cautious here. No matter what you do, do not offend any elf." 

Sam was taken aback. "A-Ah, yes of course!" He replied eagerly. 'How would I avoid offending them? It seems like they'll be offended no matter what I do.' 

The large man nodded. The look in his steel gray eyes was surprisingly trusting as he handed Sam his unsheathed sword. Taking it, Sam immediately felt a hot tingle run up his spine and his hands began to shake. A wild grin broke out on his face and he couldn't suppress a giggle of glee. Oh how good it was to have his sword back in his hands. He hadn't even noticed how much he'd missed it. Very reluctantly, he sheathed the sword. 

The feeling of intense excitement was gone, for now, but oh how he hoped he would be able to fight with the sword again soon. He let out a shaky sigh. 'That is troublesome...' He thought, but he really wasn't as bothered by the feelings as he probably should've been. Sam looked up, realizing Darrel was still there. 

"Would you like me to teach you how to use that?" He asked, his deep monotone saying it wouldn't matter to him either way, but his eyes told another story. In those stormy eyes, concern was etched plainly for any who looked close enough. 

"Y-Yes! I-I would really appreciate that." Sam replied, his excitement at the prospect bleeding copiously into his words. 

Darrel grunted and the concern shifted slightly, becoming less apparent. "When we get a break next, I will show you a bit." He clapped the younger man on the back, showing surprising camaraderie. "Now, let us devise a plan before we reach the city." 

The two men strode back to the carriage, where the three women waited. An array of completely different personalities plainly displayed. The patient princess, the impatient handmaiden, and the deceivingly indifferent healer. Sam shook his head to clear it of the building anticipation of the training. 

"We must discuss how we will go about this." Fenella said plainly. 

"Right to the point then? Very well." Dettella answered, "We need to figure out how to make this group of ours less conspicuous." 

Sam surprised himself by speaking, "That won't happen." The others seemed as surprised by his words as he was. "...Ah, I should elaborate. Right, what I mean is that there is no way we won't be conspicuous. No matter how ordinary we might make ourselves seem, we're still a group of humans among a city made up entirely of elves." 

"He has a point." Fenella said, her eyes still showing a wariness that made Sam feel... well, to put it frankly, it made him feel awful. "We can't make ourselves less obvious. At least, not with the meager supplies we have at hand." 

"Then how do we go about this?" Dettella asked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. 

"We make ourselves seem harmless." Sam said, surprising himself yet again. "We just have to look mundane enough that the elves lose interest." 

"Hm... That is a good idea." The princess said, sounding impressed. Sam felt a supreme flush of pride at her words. 'Or is that just the feeling of me blushing?' He was oblivious to Yalene's piercing scowl. "Do you have any suggestions for how to go about this?" 

"O-Oh... Uh, I, uh... I didn't really think that far ahead or anything. I kinda j-just blurted out what came to m-my mind." He replied shamefully, still oblivious to Yalene as her scowl turned to satisfaction. "S-Sorry..." 

"No matter, we can come up with something." She replied again, with a reassuring smile. Sam felt his blush of pride renew with vigor. 

'Uh, both I guess.' He realized, grateful as the attention was turned from him. 

"Ah, you're smiling Yalene. Does that mean you've come up with something?" 

Dettella's knowing tone took the handmaiden aback. "H-Hah? Ah no... no, I don't really have any ideas." 

"Hm, well I suppose that's to be expected. Darrel, do you have anything?" Yalene winced at the words, then renewed her glare at Sam. 

'It's rude to stare, let alone glare.' He thought, his mind wandering away as the other three continued the discussion. 'Why does this woman hate me so much...? Is it really just because of Letta? No, there is something significantly more personal about her hatred. Perhaps it was just Letta at first, but now she dislikes me for something of my own doing. I can feel it...' His thoughts cut off as he realized they were asking him something. 

"Would you be alright with this idea?" Fenella repeated. He glanced at the three of them, who looked at him expectantly. He held back a double take when he glimpsed the faint hint of blush on Dettella's cheeks. 

"A-Ah, um, sorry could you repeat that? I uh, zoned out a bit there." He requested with an apologetic smile as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

"You would play the fiancé to the princess." Fenella said. 

"Eh?" Sam blinked, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Sorry, I don't think I understand." 

"You would pretend to be the princess's fiancé, and play the mindless newlyweds." Fenella elaborated with a slight frown as she looked at him. 

"I... What?" He fumbled his words in his embarrassment. "E-Eh, would, would that b-be necessary? Sh-Shouldn't I just be a guard or something?" Next to him, the princess's subtle blush deepened. 

"No offense Samson, but you don't really have the look of a guard. It might work if it were someone else, but princess's are expected to have the best of guards." The healer explained. "What you do have, is the look of the submissive type of husband that noble ladies seem to so often have a preference for nowadays." 

Sam worked his mouth wordlessly, unable to form a response. His cheeks felt on the verge of melting off. His first instinct was to refuse, as such a thing was beyond him. But, the longer he thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea. Or maybe he was just convincing himself it was. Mind reeling, he staggered. Planting a balancing hand on the carriage. 

"I... Y-Yes, th-thi-this s-sounds g-good." He managed to squeeze out, his voice tight. As he spoke, Dettella released what sounded like a soft sigh of relief. 

"This way we will appear to just be tourists of a sort. Elves get those often enough that it won't be suspicious." Fenella went on. "The princess is quite clever, as expected." 

Sam's eyes widened. 'Sh-She suggested it?' He tried to glance at her inconspicuously, but she'd been looking at him and caught his eyes. His cheeks turned from a rosy pink to nigh on crimson. She smiled at him shyly. He felt like he was about to pass out. 

"You don't need to start acting yet." Darrel said with a flash of amusement in his eyes, which for him might as well have been a bellow of laughter. "You can wait until we get to the gates." 

Sam would have blushed even harder had it been possible. 

"Anyways," Fenella continued without noticing, "Sam we will have to adjust your clothing slightly. You look a bit too... disheveled, for a princess's fiancé." 

"O-Oh, yeah. I'll put on my clean shirt." He replied, glad to shift the topic. He quickly went to the trunk of the carriage, and pulled out Fenella's chest to get to his own. 

"About that." Fenella said, appearing beside him. "You should wear your cloak as well. It will add to the appearance of nobility." 

"A-Ah, should I?" He said, feeling a bit flustered as he saw Dettella had followed her. "Won't I look a bit ridiculous in it?" 

"Uh... No? Why would you think you'd look ridiculous?" She asked, puzzled. 

"Ah, um... No reason really, I just uh don't really know what nobles are supposed wear or anything." He said, surprised to find he was ashamed by that fact. 

"Yes, that cloak is of very fine quality. It is quite appropriate for a nobleman." She told him. It seemed as though her previous wariness around him was withering with a little time, and Sam was relieved when she gave him a small smile. "If it becomes necessary, I'm going to be playing your servant while we're in the city. Though, I'm still going to expect you to cook for me once we get out." 

Sam pulled out his only clean shirt, the plain dark blue one he'd been given him by the straldan army. He hesitated before pulling off his dirty shirt, glancing surreptitiously at Dettella who was barely around corner of the carriage. She was watching him intently, and Sam felt his blush return in full force. 

"Ah, yes of course. I don't mind cooking." He replied as he pulled on the clean shirt, quickly adding, "I-I mean, if you really want me to, that is." 

"Yes, I really want you to. I doubt we can get a better meal in the city." She said, and Sam felt another flush of pride. He was glad he'd been able to do his father's recipe honor, despite the unfamiliar ingredients. 

As soon as he thought of his father, he froze. A feeling of despair set over him in a second. A tangible gloom filled the air about him, making Fenella cast a look over him that carried a renewed wariness. The purple circles under his eyes seemed to stand out more, and his expression darkened noticeably. A mixture of grief, resentment and anguish warring with each other. 

"Dad... Dad, why... why did you leave me with this curse, with this..." He began muttering, barely audible. His limp arms hung down from his hunched back and his unkempt, wavy hair fell over his eyes. "I... I miss you... I... I hate you..." His muttering began to become incoherent. 

"Samson." Dettella shook his shoulder, and his head snapped up. His hard, frantic eyes met hers and instantly softened. She seemed shocked by the sudden reaction. It was as though she had repelled the darkness. She felt both elated that she could evoke such a change, but sorry that there had to be one in the first place. "Is something wrong?" 

"Huh? Ah, no. Sorry, just an uh... unpleasant memory." He said, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Hurriedly pulling out the cloak from the chest, Sam tried to avoid further questions. "You sure I need to wear this?" 

"...Yes." Fenella replied after a moment of cautious examination. 

"A-Alright." He said resignedly, flinching at her gaze. 

"We must hurry. Those elves seem impatient." The healer said, seemingly eager to get going. "Oh, and you should bind that sword to your waist. Nobles generally don't wear their swords on there backs." 

"O-Okay." Sam did as she suggested, then pulled the navy blue cloak over his shoulders and looked down, straightening it over his coat. 'I need to get some more variety in my clothing colors.' He thought, looking down at the array of blues. He clasped the silver pin, and let out a breath. "A-Alright then, let's go." He said, trying to look confident. 

——— 

Samson looked around. 'Where...?' Around him was a room seemingly constructed entirely of magic. The walls, floor, and ceiling glowed with different colors of magic. He looked down at himself. His body was one of bright, silvery blue. He raised his hand and inspected it. It was transparent. The small ringlets were the exact same as his own magic, when he'd been alive still. 'What is this?' He wondered. 

'Welcome, new god.' A voice reached him, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. It was not extremely deep, yet it was still very masculine sounding. 'You must have many questions, but for now you will have to be patient.' 

Samson searched the room, trying to find the source of the voice. 'Where are you?' 

'You are looking at me. I am this room you are in, this amalgamation of magic.' It replied. 'Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss. Forgive me for not coming in contact with you sooner. Unfortunately, I have been trying to quell the distress your sudden appearance has caused.' 

'Me? My appearance? Where? I don't understand?' Samson replied, trying to make sense of what the person was trying to say. 

'Yes, you have many questions. But again, please let me speak without interruption. This will take time to explain, and I must be fairly thorough about it. While I have become patient over my many centuries of existence, no one is perfect. It is troubling that I do not have more time to speak to you, but unfortunately we both have our own wards we must return to quickly. So, for now, just sit and listen.' 

——— 

Sam blinked, unconsciously cocking his head to one side like a puppy. The array of sights, sounds and smells before him perplexed him deeply. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected an elven city to be like, but this certainly wasn't it. Where were the expertly crafted glass spires, or houses magically grown from the trees, or... or... 

What was arrayed before him was really quite disappointing somehow. Elves were supposed to be elegant, beautiful, those sorts of things right? Well, the city of Fraeline was neither beautiful nor elegant, that was for sure. The constant buzzing of dense population was almost deafening. He almost didn't hear the tolling of the bells over all the racket. Well, at least the bells sounded nice. 

Sam shoved down the urge to gag. The moment they'd entered through those enormous wood gates, the overwhelming smell of shit and sweaty people clocked him right in the nose. Even when he plugged his nostrils he could smell it. It was almost as if he could taste the impregnating fetor. He wouldn't have been surprised to see a greenish brown haze. 

Scanning the immediate area, he saw hut upon wood hut clustered so close together it was as though they were huddling up against the chill. Cold gazes looked on from windows and sides of the street as their carriage pulled through the throng. Some sort of blue fruit was thrown by an unseen elf. 'Talk about passive-aggressive... At least let me see your face if you're gonna assault us with fruit.' 

The carriage rumbled over the rough cobblestone streets for what Sam guessed was around 15 minutes. Eventually, one of their escorts pulled up to the window and Fenella opened it for him to speak. 

"We will show you in to the governor." He said, offering no explanation. 

Sam hesitated, then spoke softly to his companions. "Uh, they're taking us to their governor..." 

"Yes, that's what I expected." Dettella replied. "It's fine, we will meet with them." 

"...Alright, if you say so." He said, then turned back to the elf. "Very well, lead the way." 

The elf nodded and pulled away from the door, which Yalene opened to allow the princess out, followed by Sam. Taking in the surroundings, he sucked in air. 'That is a lot of color.' He thought, looking at the enormous manor before him. The tall brick walls were painted with a variety of neon colors, matching the exterior of the house Sam caught a glimpse of inside. 'I bet I know who designed that sign out front...' Putting a hand to his head, he looked away from the dizzying rainbow. 

"Remain with the carriage, we will return shortly." Dettella told Yalene and Fenella, who looked ready to follow. Then, to Darrel she whispered, "I've heard rumor that the governor of Fraeline is an eccentric, but relatively harmless. But I'm not sure how accurate that is, so be wary regardless." 

Then, she began striding confidently toward the grand steel gate after their escorts, her hands clasped before her. Sam was transfixed by her for a moment, 'She's a real princess...' He was still taken aback by her gracefulness. Darrel nudged his shoulder and he shook himself from his reverie. Glancing at the imposing guard for a moment, he started forward. His left hand resting casually on his sword pommel, as Fenella had instructed. 

"Try to relax a bit." The sword captain muttered, just behind his right shoulder. "Straighten your back. Yes, that'll do." 

Sam felt exceedingly ridiculous. He wasn't a nobleman by any stretch of the imagination, and any trained eye could probably see that easily. His anxiety started to catch up to him and he felt his hands shaking slightly. His pace quickened without him noticing, and soon he was caught up to the princess. She glanced at him, noticing his worried expression. 

"Relax, Samson. You're doing fine." She said. 

"I-I'm not a lord or anything, somebody's gonna notice..." Sam whispered back urgently. 

"You'd be surprised. In recent times, it's popular for ladies to marry men who are easy to manipulate." She replied, reassuringly. Then quickly added, "Not that you're like that or anything. I-I didn't mean that in a bad way." 

"Huh? O-Oh, don't worry I wasn't offended. I'm aware of my, er, disposition." He replied, still feeling anxious, but not quite so much. "Wh-What do you think the governor wants us for?" 

"Ah, most likely just to ask what we're doing in elven lands. All you have to do is translate for me, I've been trained as a diplomat." 

"O-Okay, that's reassuring." Sam replied, stopping in front of the gates as a pair of guards opened them when the escorts nodded. 

They strode through, he and Dettella side by side, flanked by the escorts and followed closely by Darrel. Finally looking up from the cobbled road, Sam marveled at the manor house. It was clearly three storied, with tall stained glass windows lining the front from floor to ceiling. The bright colors of the glass seemed dull in comparison to the exaggerated blues, greens and reds of the exterior that hurt Sam's eyes to look at. 

'This person... they must be color blind to be able to stand such colors.' He thought, squinting at the huge structure. Aside from the house, the grounds of the manor were quite beautiful. Decorated ponds, carefully trimmed trees, and grand gazebos gave the land an elegant atmosphere. It would have been quite nice if it weren't for the giant blemish of a house. 

He was still grimacing in the direction of the house when they finally reached it a few minutes later. Another pair of guards at the entrance pushed open the tall, orange doors. A woman dressed in a bright pink suit waited inside. Her suit matched her hair so closely that at first Sam had mistaken it for a hood. It wasn't until he saw the long, pointed ears peeking out that he realized it was hair. 

She gave a smooth bow, then spoke in fluent English. "Welcome to the lady governor's manor. She is glad to welcome the princess and her husband. I am Giela, one of her butlers. I will escort you to the waiting room." 

Giela turned and strode down the hall, not waiting for a response. Dettella began following the butler a moment later and Sam hastened his step to catch up again. He glanced back, seeing that their previous escorts weren't following. They were led down a colorful hall into a similarly colorful room. 

'This governor really likes to fuck with people's eyes...' Sam thought, looking around at the small room's furnishings. It was decorated with heavy blue drapes along the walls, intricate gold patterns on them glinting from the lantern light. Plush yellow chairs were spread around a red coffee table. Swirls of purple and green carpet finished the garish ensemble. 'Damn, this is giving me a headache.' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 10



"Please stay here while the governor finishes her prior business. Would you like some tea while you wait?" The butler said with an amiable smile. She at least seemed to hold no prejudices. Well, it didn't show on the exterior anyway. To Sam she said, "I will take your cloak, milord." 

"Yes, that would be delightful." Dettella responded, returning the smile. She sat down in one of the chairs, Sam sitting to her left a moment after. Giela bowed and left the room after hanging his cloak on a hook. 

'I don't like being served like this...' Sam thought, fidgeting in the chair. "I... I don't like being here. Feels like we're wasting time." 

"Nor do I, but it is necessary. Besides, it is still far more efficient than trying to navigate off-road. We're cutting our travel time by a day coming through here." Dettella explained, straightening the pale green dress over her knees. 

When it was put that way, he felt a little better. But he still had a strange feeling in his gut, an uncomfortable feeling. He couldn't say exactly what it was, but even having not met her yet he didn't like this governor. Perhaps it was just the blinding colors she seemed obsessed with. No, something about the situation felt weird. He just couldn't pick out what it was. Frowning slightly, he rubbed his chin, feeling the prickly whiskers against his palm. 

"Samson?" He looked up quickly when Dettella spoke. Giela had returned apparently, and was holding out a small glass plate with a teacup atop it toward him. 

"A-Ah, th-thanks." He said sheepishly and blushed slightly. He gently took the plate from the butler. 

Giela gave Dettella a knowing smile and a small chuckle. "Ahh, so you're one of those types." 

Sam glanced between them, not quite understanding. The princess's cheeks colored a light pink, he wouldn't have recognized it for a blush except that he'd seen it before. Her demeanor gave away none of her embarrassment however. 

"Aren't you being too familiar for a servant?" She asked the butler, her expression unreadable. 

Giela stiffened slightly. "O-Oh, yes I was. My apologies milady, I meant no offense." She bowed. "I ask you forgive my behavior, this is my first week here." 

"Very well, but do not make the same mistake twice." Dettella said, her tone chilly. Sam shivered. 

"Please excuse me." The butler said and left the room in a hurry. 

"...She will be my new handmaiden." The princess said a moment later as if it was a certainty. 

"Uh-What...?" Sam blinked, unsure of what just happened. 

"Darrel, please make the arrangements." 

"Of course, princess." He said and left the room. 

Sam tried to formulate some sort of response to the occurrences, but his mouth just opened and closed wordlessly. 'What the hell was that about?' Eventually he managed to stutter out some confused sounds, "Eh, uh...? Huh...?" 

Dettella looked at him over her teacup as she took a sip. "That girl's smart, and I don't really like servants that are stiff and formal." She explained as if it was obvious. 

"I... can... can you really just do that? Like, just pick up a new servant?" He asked, absolutely baffled. 

"Of course." She said, taking another sip. "I need a new one after firing Yalene. I planned on getting one in the capital, but Giela is too good to pass up I think." 

Sam just didn't know how to respond. It seemed really strange, but Dettella just acted as if it was a normal occurrence. He looked down at his steaming cup of tea. The white porcelain looked delicate. A thin line of gold traced the rim, even thinner lines wove images of trees along the outside of the cup. 'Pretty.' He carefully picked up the cup by the handle and took a hesitant sip. It was hot, of course, and had the bitter taste of herbs mixed with a faint sweetness. 

"Mmm, this is really good quality tea. Delune isn't my favorite, but this quite a nice brew." Dettella said. "Isn't it?" 

'Uh... is it?' He suppressed a frown. 'I don't know tea much. Except the apple cinnamon one Ms. Albright always drank...' He thought, looking into the dark, reddish liquid. "Uh, yeah... It's good." 

She looked at him, observing his expression as he took another sip. "There's sugar right there if you want some." She said, gesturing with her cup towards the tray on the low coffee table. 

"Oooh..." He said, then placed his cup on the table after a moment of thought. 

He pulled the lid off the matching porcelain container, revealing an assortment of colored sugar cubes. He briefly wondered if they were meant to be different flavors, but quickly remembered the governor's odd taste for color. He dropped in six cubes and stirred it in with one of the gold teaspoons left on the tray. He took another sip. Now it was too sweet. 

"I don't really drink tea often..." Sam explained at Dettella's odd look. 

"I see... You're really not a nobleman, are you." 

He looked at her blankly. "...I've said that several times." 

"Hm, yes you did say that. I didn't really believe you." She replied. 

"...The tea thing is what finally confirmed it?" He asked, grimacing into the cup of over sweetened tea. He just set it down on the tray, giving up on trying to understand it. 

"Yes." She said matter-of-factly. "Any noble knows their teas. They'd be considered barbaric if they didn't." 

"Ah, that makes sense." Sam replied. 'That makes no sense.' He thought, mentally shaking his head. She nodded, taking another sip. He spoke again, still staring into his tea. "The only tea I ever really drank was the one the librarian made for me occasionally when I had a break from returning books. It was always apple cinnamon. That one wasn't too bad." 

He looked up, surprised to see the intent look of interest on Dettella's face. Her ensorcelling emerald eyes seemed to shine. Sam blinked, trying to shake off the mesmerizing effect they had on him. 

"I see, so you were a librarians assistant. That explains your knowledge of the elven tongue, and your literacy for that matter." She paused, "What is apilesinimin? I have not heard of that flavor." 

"..." He continued staring at her, the words coming slowly through his ears. He replied haltingly, "Ah, well, uh... apple, cinnamon... what are they..." He shook his head, finally breaking the trance. "Oh...oh, apple and cinnamon are two separate things. An apple is a sweet red fruit, and cinnamon is a spice that comes from the inside of certain tree barks. It's usually associated with sweet foods like apple pie, cinnamon buns, snickerdoodles..." 

Her eyes remained glued to his and he caught himself starting to ramble. 

"Yes, yes, go on." She urged him forward, eager to hear more. 

"I..." Sam didn't want to just list off the random facts he had about cinnamon. He tried think of something to divert the conversation. "Er..." 

He couldn't come up with anything with those green eyes on him like that. Unconscious of his actions, he began to rub the back of his head and a tinge of red stained his cheeks. Fortunately he was saved by the return of Darrel and the butler. 

"The lady governor will see you now." Giela said, giving a bow to Dettella. It seemed her overcoat had been removed at some point, as she only wore the clean, buttoned up white shirt and pink tie. 

"Ah," the princess shook her head as if to clear it, followed by Sam a second later. "Yes, let us be about it then." She said, setting down her teacup on the tray and standing smoothly. 

Sam stood not so smoothly, tripping on the coffee table's leg as he moved toward the door too hastily. He crashed straight into Giela, sending them both sprawling to the floor. When he woke from the daze from bonking his head on the wall, he found his head resting on something soft, his left hand right next to it. Pushing himself up, he froze as he realized what that soft thing was. 

The former butler, now handmaiden, was lying beneath him with her arms splayed out to the sides. She had a look of astonishment on her face as she looked up at him. Sam's eyes glanced down to his left hand, his body not quite wanting to keep up with his brain which was currently tying to tell his hand to remove itself from Giela's breast. His eyes moved back to the elf's face, taking in the blush that slowly began to creep over her near translucent, white skin. 

"S-Samson!" He heard Dettella cry out behind him, and then she was tugging at his arm, trying to get him off of the elf. "Y-You must get off of her!" 

Finally, his hand came away from her chest and his motor skills seemed to return. He knelt on the carpet, his blank face mirroring his mind which currently was still stuck back in the moment when his eyes were glued to Dettella's. He looked down at his left hand, trying to formulate some sort of reaction. 

The princess still tugged on his arm. "Samson. Samson!" 

"...Wha...?" His head turned to look at her, his expression still impassive. With those uncomprehending eyes, he watched Dettella's eyes gleam with suppressed tears. Her cheeks were red, whether from embarrassment or anger he couldn't tell. Sam's eyes definitely weren't deceiving him, her face was as red as the coffee table. Upon seeing his lack of a reaction she ran from the room, her hands clutching tightly at her dress. 

Everything had happened so fast. With his brain already working slowly as it was, he didn't understand a bit of what had just happened. He watched as Giela scurried from the room after the princess. Sam looked back down at his hand, wondering what had just occurred. 

"What?" 'What?' It was if that word was all his mind could form. 

Darrel grabbed him by the shoulder and lifted him to his feet. "You should probably go and apologize." He said. 

Sam looked at him, his mind finally starting to form thoughts other than 'what?'. He looked at Darrel's sympathetic eyes, then back down at his hand which was still held out palm up. Then, as he processed what had happened, his cheeks began to feel on the verge of melting off. 'H-Holy shit... I just touched her boob.' 

"You.. you're probably right." He replied, feeling like he should've felt guiltier about it than he did, but then again he still was having a hard time remembering how he'd ended up in the position in the first place. "I feel like I should apologize to Dettella too for some reason... Am I being crazy?" 

"Mm, no you should probably say sorry to her too. It isn't exactly your fault, but it might make them both feel better." Darrel answered after a moment of thought. "I'm afraid I don't have a lot of experience dealing with romance, but you should trust your instincts I suppose." 

'Romance... Is that what this is?' Sam wondered, '...I should probably consider this more closely, but I don't think now is the time.' 

Straightening his back he strode toward the door, grabbing his cloak on the way. 

——— 

'Oh blight... Why did I run out of the room?!' Dettella thought in horror. She sat hunched over the bench in another waiting room, her cheeks damp with tears. 'I completely overreacted. How could I let my emotions control me so? I don't even know why I reacted that way!' She sniffled and wiped away the remnants of her tears. Letting out a shaky sigh, she stood and fixed her disheveled hair and clothes. 'We need to go see the governor still. They're still waiting for us and Samson's friend is in a precarious condition while I sit here crying over an accident.' 

Dettella started to head out of the room, and then she realized, 'Oh blight, how could I face them after I acted so?! Oh blight, blight, blight!' She began pacing the room. 'Can I make some sort of excuse?' 

Before she could even begin to come up with an answer, Sam walked into the room. "Oh, there you are." He said, the frown of consternation on his face being replaced by a relieved smile. Then a look of embarrassment fell over his features. He looked down and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, a blush crept into his cheeks. "I, uh... I wanted to apologize for embarrassing you in front of the, um, butler. I didn't mean to make you look bad. I just got nervous, and I was clumsy." 

He shifted his feet as he waited for her answer. For her part, Dettella was trying to say something, but every excuse she'd come up with in the short time fell away from her mind. Her mind went blank. She wanted to alleviate his concerns, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, no words came to her. The impulse was strong and immediate. In another time and place, under different circumstances, her mind would have refused, but with it as blank as it was at that moment, she acted without thought. 

Dettella stepped forward and reached up. Her hands held Sam's head and pulled it down. She stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his... 

——— 

Sam blinked. 'What?' He looked down. The princess's face was pressed to his and her eyes were closed. Up so close he could see the tiny blonde hairs on her face, every single eyelash, every tiny freckle that sprinkled her nose. 'How did this happen?' He wondered. He could feel her lips pressed against his, yet he didn't understand. 

Time seemed to be passing in slow motion and finally, it clicked. 'She's kissing me.' A feeling of exhilaration he had never experienced before swept through him like an electric shock. In the back of his mind he could see the graceful silver swirls of her magic, but his focus was completely on the softness of her lips. Sam kissed back, feeling his own lips caress hers. He tasted the subtle sweetness of the tea she'd just had on her soft lips. His mind just kept going back to how soft her lips were. They were so soft, so gentle. 

They felt like the softest velvet, only softer. Sam closed his eyes, and felt his arms wrap around her back. He reveled in the sense of touch, feeling every subtle movement of her lips and the shuddering breath that escaped her nose. His hands gripped the back of her dress tightly, clutching it as if it were the edge of a cliff. He sucked air in deeply, taking in her scent. She smelled slightly of something like jasmine, and also a bit like paper. 

Sam felt her hands run through his hair. He pulled her closer, feeling her supple breasts press against his abdomen. He held her like that for another moment, and then she began to pull away. Her hands left his hair, he released her dress from his grip, and finally their lips separated. 

Sam's eyes opened slowly, as if waking from a deep trance. What he saw first were the emerald green of her eyes gazing back into his and he shivered. His mouth worked soundlessly as he breathed deeply. Dettella's cheeks bloomed with pink as she took in a trembling breath of air. 'Wh-What?' Looking behind him he wondered who the act was supposed to be for, but no one was there. 

"Wha-huh?" He said intelligently. 

"I..." Dettella began in a soft voice, "Samson, I-I fancy you. I'm not, er... That kiss wasn't an act, if that's what you're wondering. I, well I've never really courted a man before to be honest, so I'm not sure how to do this." 

Sam felt like this would be the moment when he started panicking, or something of the like, but he didn't feel afraid. He felt... attracted to her, beyond the simpleminded crush he'd held for Ms. Albright, and she was now telling him that she felt the same way. And he, like her, had no idea what to do about it. 

"I, um, fancy you too." He finally replied, repeating her wordage. Sam tried to say something else, to express his feelings better, but they were interrupted. 

"Ahem." Sam spun, seeing Darrel stood in the doorway with his arms clasped behind his back. "Princess, the governor sent another butler to see what hinders you. I suggest you attend her soon. I will finish the preparations for hiring Giela while you are at it." 

"Aaahh," she elongated to catch her bearings. "Yes of course. We must get going." Dettella replied, her face instantly returning to the calm serenity she usually held. The only trace of the moment before was the quickly dissipating blush. Sam was still trying to come up with something to say when she entwined her left arm with his right. 

She led him back out the door, following behind Darrel. Sam looked down at her, specifically where her arm was wrapped around his. Despite the layers of fabric between them, he could feel her warmth. He continued walking aimlessly, just letting himself be directed. All he could think about were her words, and more than that, the kiss. In that moment, he'd felt something he couldn't quite describe. A moment of excitement, where his heart began to beat faster and he just wanted to be close to her. 

Before he knew it, they'd reached to the waiting room where a new butler was waiting. Sam shook his head, trying to clear it, but it wasn't easy with Dettella holding him as she was. The elven man immediately bowed and gestured for them to follow. Then before he knew it, they were at a pair of yellow painted doors. 'I just had my first kiss...' Sam thought, still barely aware of his surroundings. He felt his lips in wonder, as it was almost as if he could still feel Dettella's there. 

The doors opened and they stepped in. The cloud that was around Sam's mind a moment before was gone in a fraction of a second. His eyes were wide and alert, his icy blue eyes flicking around frantically. There was something wrong here, but he wasn't sure what. The room was decorated with expensive looking silk curtains, on which were mostly depictions of battles, but on one of them was a short woman lifting some sort of immense gem. 

There were three people in the room already. One was clearly the governor, her elaborate, flowing dress lit with so many neon colors that Sam had to strain to see her face. It was like trying to look directly at the sun, to a lesser extent. Her chubby face was plastered with so much makeup there was no way to tell what she really looked like. Her chins jiggled as she turned to look at him and Dettella. 

At her feet rested an emaciated elven man, a long, red chain binding him to her oversized chair. His face was downturned and his unkempt sea green hair cascaded over him, obscuring his nudity. Behind the governor's colorful, six legged throne was someone in bright golden armor gilded in green flame-like patterns. On their back was a huge broadsword that looked to be taller than the short knight. 

'Looks like one of those Japanese video game characters.' Sam thought absently as his eyes scanned over the knight. 'There's definitely something strange here...' 

"Ahh, bwelcome my human fwends! I am bwery exthited to hab you!" The blubbery governor spluttered out in a gravely voice. She gestured to a pair of small chairs before her. "Blease, sit sit!" 

"Thank you very much for your hospitality, Governor Tielnin. We greatly appreciate it." Dettella said as she sat gently into the chair after releasing Sam's arm. 

That feeling of uneasiness was building in him by the second, and for some reason sitting down seemed dangerous. He was about to just force himself to, when the governor spoke to her knight. "Good, the deadbly one ith not wivf vem. Jusd kill tha man, the pwincesth needth to be kept alibe." 

It took him a moment to realized she'd spoken in the elven tongue, he only noticed when Dettella had no reaction to the words. Sam's vision seemed to darken at the corners as the knight moved forward quickly. His sword was in his hands a moment later, and a rush of excitement ran through his body, emanating out from where his hands touched the sword's handle. 

Just before the battle lust overtook him he spoke to Dettella in a strained tone as he dropped his cloak, "Get... back..." He didn't get the chance to see what she did, because that was when the knight swung down at him with the oversized sword and his mind went blank... 

——— 

"What?!" Dettella stood quickly, knocking the small chair backward as she did. A few feet from her, Sam tried to block the overhead swing. The heavy impact knocked him down, and he skidded on his backside. Dettella hurried back, as the huge blade arced down again. Sam scrambled away quickly, avoiding the sword as it cracked into the black marble floor. 'What is going on?!' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 10



She was already backed into the far left corner of the room by the time she came to her senses. Her hands were clenched around two handfuls of her dress, and they trembled as she watched the knight swing at Sam again. 'Oh blight... Oh blight! No! He can't die now! Not after... Not right after I told him my feelings! Darrel! Where is Darrel?!' She looked around the room in panic, not seeing the high guard anywhere. 'Oh blight, he's off figuring out the handmaiden! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I have to request that?!' 

Her eyes drifted back to Sam hesitantly. They widened when she saw him. He was... smiling? He moved with an almost unnatural agility as he sidestepped the knight's thrust. He struck like a snake, his long, narrow blade skidding off the knight's armor in a shower of sparks. The knight shuffled back, more cautious now. Sam clearly had the advantage of speed, but his sword skills were clumsy and unpracticed. On top of that, the knight was wearing thick armor of what appeared to be painted velta, if it could stop his sword. 

Giving the knight no breaks, Sam lunged in again. His sword clanged against the helmet before the knight's sword got up to parry. The knight attempted to counter with a slice at the left side, but Sam had already leapt out of reach. The huge sword the knight wielded wasn't felnn, if the design wasn't enough of a giveaway, the way the knight reacted to it's weight was. The sideways cut sent the knight off balance, and Sam struck again. His blade skittered off the helmet again, but it left a sizable dent this time. 

He whacked at it again, but this time it was a mistake. The knight was quicker than someone had any right to be in that armor. The heavy broadsword bit into Sam's right side, cleaving straight through his jacket and into his ribs. It was stopped at his spine, but the knight kept it moving, throwing Sam to the left. The huge sword slipped from his body as he was sent sprawling. Dettella bit back a scream as her eyes began blurring with tears. 

He lay unmoving on his back, his sword still clutched in his hand. The knight looked down at him for a moment and when he did not move, turned to Dettella. A soft laugh echoed in the utter silence. Then it grew to a hearty chuckle. At first Dettella thought it was the knight, but then she saw Sam's chest moving in time with the laughter. The laugh was so pure sounding, so innocently happy, that it sent a chill straight down her spine. 'Oh blight...' 

A bright glow began to dominate the dimly lit room. Sam stood without pushing himself up, only his anchored legs dragging his slackened torso upward. He slumped forward, his arms hanging down limply. He continued to laugh, even as the knight swung at him again. This time the blade went all the way through his torso, but even before the sword left his body it was knitting back together. Finally, Sam looked up. 

The eerie grin on his face only added to the darkening madness in his hollow blue eyes. The knight let out a distinctly feminine shriek of terror and stumbled away from Sam. Spirals of gold and silver started to leak out from his skin, writhing and dancing away from him as if they were living things. They clouded around him, nearly obscuring his form. 

'This is familiar... He's losing himself again, this is bad. Very bad...' Dettella's worry grew as she watched him start walking slowly toward the knight. She could barely see his face from the side, but the smile on it was not one of a sane man. 

The knight fell backward, tripping over her own feet. The sword clattered from her grasp, and she tried to scuttle back. Sam stood over her, the haze of magic growing thicker and thicker. Suddenly, the knight's body started sliding slowly toward him as if pulled by a magnet, until she lay at his feet. 

The knight let out a whimper and began to plead in elvish. Dettella only picked up a few words. "Please... orders... I didn't..." 

Then, Sam spoke. His voice was soft and discordant. "tAKe OfF YOuR ARmoR..." 

Apparently the elven knight knew the northern human tongue enough to understand, as she immediately began plucking off the thick plating. Her hands shook and she fumbled with the straps clumsily in her haste. Finally, her helm came off and a woman's beautiful, pale face was revealed, it was only marred by a thin scar that ran from the middle of her forehead down her nose, then turned sharply to her left cheek. Her shoulder length, violet hair was damp with sweat. Sam stood unmoving for an agonizingly long moment, then his right arm began to rise. 

In a flash of movement his sword arced upward and separated the elf's left hand from the arm. It happened so quickly that it took the woman a moment to react. Then she let out a piercing scream. Dettella wanted to move, to stop him from doing this, but she couldn't move. It was as if she was glued to the floor. Another slash and the right hand was severed cleanly. 

"P-Please..." The elf plead in heavily accented human this time. "It just orders... Please..." 

"BRitNey, I WilL noT AllOw ThIS. No MoRe." Sam replied, taking off her left forearm. "NO mORE!" His blade slashed again, taking her right forearm. "You CaN'T hurT me Now. No moRe. No mORe. nO morE. No MorE. NO MORE! NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE!! NONoNO nnoOMOrre eNOrenOMRe NOMOREMORENOMOREMORE!!" 

With each word his movements seemed to become more frantic. He hacked into her thighs, slashed her stomach, her feet, her upper arms. Then he stopped, his words becoming soft again as he spoke to an already unconscious woman. 

"You beAt me, abUsed mE. yOU BroKe me, miNd and boDy. I boRe it, but nO more. I borE the pAin, for My DaDDy. But Now, nOW I haVe reAliZed he was wRong." He laughed shrilly. "NoW you Get what You deSerVEd, My deaR StepmoTHeR. foR aLL thE yeaRs of liVing in FeAR of The neXt BeATing, I WILL MAKE YOU FEAR THAT WHICH YOU HAVE CREATED!" 

A second later the elf woman's body reassembled and she woke. For a moment she looked dazed, then recognition returned to her eyes. Sam stepped on her arms, and thick bindings formed over the wrists. Dettella could do nothing but watch as he stabbed down into her stomach and twisted brutally. Blood spurted and the squelch of the woman's insides being turned sounded deafening in that moment. A scream of pure excruciation rang about the large room, accompanied by laughter that can only be described as insane. 

Finally, the governor found the wits to speak, "Sthobp that! Are you inthane?!" 

Sam's head turned slowly toward her, and the governor looked like she might be regretting those words already. "I Will gET to yOu in A MiNUTe, MadEliNE. PleASe wait PATienTLy for Your turN. I havE soMeTHing morE SpEcial in miNd for yoU." He said and with another shrill cackle, he turned back to the knight. 

'No, I-I can't let this go on any longer!' Dettella thought, trying to force herself to move. She tried to deny it, but she was terrified of Sam in that moment. She had a terrible feeling that if he killed that woman his mind would reach a point beyond repair. 'Stop, Samson. Please stop that...' She desperately begged her body to move, to go toward him, but it refused to budge. 'Blight you, you stupid woman! Why can't you move your own blighted body!' 

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she watched Sam trace his sword over the woman's naked chest. Crimson flowed down over and around the elf's small breasts, some dripping off the sides, some collecting in her navel. It seemed she was beyond screaming now. All that came out were gasps and wheezing moans of pain. 

"Do YOu feel iT? ThiS is A meRE FraCtion of wHAt you'VE doNe to ME. Do YOU like It?" Sam said, the elf only let out a sob in reply. "HAhA! HoW amUsinG. You'Re fuCKIng pATHetic, you repulSive liTtle worm. FunnY tHat you COwer aNd WhiMper whEn your viCtim bites back." 

Dettella finally managed to move her right foot forward an inch, then another, and another. Then, her left foot began to move and she took a second step. Her body seemed to slowly defrost and become mobile again. 

"S... Sa... Samson." Her words came out in a shaky whisper. Another step, then another. "Samson... stop." 

Sam did not hear her. After repairing the knight's body again, he began repeating the torture process. He did not speak, just smiled with such bliss. 'Maybe... Maybe Yalene was right...' Dettella thought, seeing that smile through the haze of spirals. 'Maybe, maybe he is a demon. A curse. Dangerous...' 

She got closer, inch by reluctant inch, fighting every instinct that told her to flee, hide, scream. Only feet from him now, she could almost feel the pressure coming from the intense amount of magic. Her body trembled and begged to collapse, to fall under the weight of that power. But Dettella forced her body to continue. She could almost see his face. If she could just look into his eyes, she thought she might be able to reason with him. 

His sword arm ceased it's movement, and his gaze fell on Dettella. She fell to her knees, unable to remain standing any longer. His eyes, the irises were filled with writhing patterns of gold and silver. She had never seen anything like it. For a moment she was so transfixed that she didn't see the rest of his face. Droplets fell from his eyes, tears of gold and silver streamed down his face, dripping over the wild sneer. 

The sheer magnitude of the pain in his eyes shocked Dettella. Despite the story his face told, inside he was suffering with every sword strike. She let out a sob looking into those eyes, feeling awful for the doubts she'd held moments before. His legs shook, then buckled under him and he fell to his knees. His sword clattered out of his hand and skittered across the marble floor. Dettella leaned toward him, and let herself fall into his chest. She embraced him, and tried to hug away his torments. 

The glow of his magic slowly faded, circling and sucking back into him like a whirlpool. His quivering arms slowly came up, and pulled her to his chest. Dettella felt like he might crush her in his grip, but at that point she didn't care. They both knelt there sobbing into each other, as the governor stared on with an expression that seemed confused as to how she should react. 

She finally began shouting at her healed knight. The knight didn't move, just stared sightlessly at the ceiling, her breathing ragged. 

——— 

When Sam came to his senses, he was on his knees clutching Dettella as if his life depended on it. While his life may not have, his sanity certainly seemed to. 'What...?' He looked down at her head, which was pressed against his chest. He felt the warm tears seeping through his shirt, and the cool air chilling his own damp cheeks. 'I was crying...? No, I still am. Why?' 

"Get up alweady you damned sthupid gunt! Can you not hear me? I am your masther! You 'ave been laying there for ten minuthes (/ an exaggeration I hope) while they justh sit there vulnerably!" Sam heard the governor say. 

'The governor...' Finally he looked up and saw the odd scene surrounding him. A few feet from his lay a woman in tattered leather, her body nearly completely exposed. It looked as if her clothes had been cut, yet her body had no wounds. Around her was the gold plated armor he'd seen the knight wearing earlier. 'She... is the knight?' Her eyes seemed unfocused as she stared at the ceiling almost as if she were dead, but she was still drawing breath. 

Her hair which spread about her head was a light violet color and her eyes matched. 'What happened? Why is she like that?' He wondered, and finally forced himself to unclasp he hands from the princess. 

"Uh... um, Dettella? What happened here?" Sam asked softly, his voice sounding dry and raspy. 

She looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Her emerald eyes looked at him with apprehension and concern. "Well," Her voice croaked, so she paused and cleared her throat. "Well, I, er... I'm not really certain." 

When she spoke her eyes left his for a fraction of a second, before she looked back into his. Sam hesitated for a moment, but he pressed despite his fears. "...Please, tell me the truth Dettella." 

She flinched slightly. "I, I apologize for trying to lie to you... I just want to protect you." 

"I understand and thank you for that, but," Sam replied, still sounding reluctant, "I... I feel that I must know, though. So, please." 

She took in a deep, shuddering breath, and closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. "You were fighting the knight, and... went berserk and your magic was controlling you so... you shouldn't feel guilty. You ended up hurting the knight there quite a bit, I think she may be in shock." 

"...I see." Sam said, his mind spinning with the flood of emotions. Anger, fear, guilt, sadness, relief. The weight of them all nearly crushed him. 

"...But, you did it to protect me. So, you shouldn't blame yourself. I am grateful for what you went through for me." Dettella interrupted his whirling thoughts. He looked back down at her and saw she was on the verge of tears again. "I-I can help you Samson. I want to help you. I enjoy your company, I like to talk to you, and I feel like... I feel like I just, I just want to be around you. I will help you!" 

Her words kindled a small flame of joy and hope in his heart amongst the storm of negativity that seemed to be raging ceaselessly. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye, and Sam raised his hand to her face and brushed it away with his thumb. Behind him, the governor was still shouting but all he could process at that moment was Dettella. 

"I..." He said, unable to form his thoughts into words. Finally, he just gave up and leaned down. Her eyes widened for a moment as he pressed his lips to hers, then closed as she kissed him back. 

Sam pushed everything he was feeling into that kiss, trying to express every ounce of gratitude he had for her. His right hand came up and held the back of her head, while his left was pressed to the small of her back. His head shifted to the left instinctively, deepening their kiss. He could taste the slight saltiness of her tears on her smooth lips, and smelled that invigorating scent of hers. The smell of books and jasmine. 

Their lips caressed each other as Dettella's gentle hands ran up his back, finally entwining one in his locks of wavy brown hair. Sam could feel her kind and caring nature in the way she kissed him, the way her hands touched him. Soft and graceful, yet still filled with a subtle need. 

Finally, Sam broke their embrace with the need to breathe. She too was breathing quickly when their faces separated. When he caught his breath he opened his eyes and looked into hers. The emerald green that he could only describe as captivating at that moment, seemed to pull him in and promise of a tender passion. 

"...Thank you, Dettella." Was all he could manage, but hoped that it was enough. 

She nodded. "I would like to talk more, later. After we have dealt with the issues here." She said, and gave him a radiant smile that made him blush. 

Sam sucked in a deep breath, and turned to the governor. She was still sitting in her extra-large chair, tightly gripping the chain connected to her pet man. He had not shifted since they had entered the room. The governor's face was beaded with sweat, and she was trying to get the man to move. His atrophied body remained stock-still, the only movement caused by her frantic shaking of the chain. His wispy hair swayed with the jerking movements. 

Sam knelt and picked up his sword, then strode to the base of the governor's low dais. With each step he felt more and more reluctant to continue. This woman was too similar to his half-sister Britney, very narcissistic and manipulative. It was unnerving him, but he pushed on despite his trepidation. He held his sword tightly in his grip, and forced himself to straighten his back. He stood before her, silent for a moment. His fingers flexed and twitched slightly with his eagerness to lash out or flee. 

Looking down at the fat woman Sam asked in elvish. "Why?" 

The woman's response was not to Sam, despite her fearful eyes remaining on him. "Keep your male in line you sthtupid witch!" 

Sam's lip twitched, and he brought up his sword. His desire to strike her down then and there was almost overwhelming, his whole body seemed to thrum with excitement. He had to shove it down, and his body shuddered noticeably with the effort it took to control himself. It was as if his mind and body were in disagreement and fighting for power. 

He rested his sword against her blubbery neck. A rush passed through him at the moment it grazed her skin. 'No. No! I won't lost control again, I won't!' Sam told himself, but the urge was struggling at the flimsy bars of his will's cage. 

"Why?" He repeated, emphasized by the blade cutting at her neck. A red pearl dribbled over the folds of her skin, and she let out a barely audible squeak. 

"I-I... I wath paid to do it!" She finally squealed. 

"Who?" 

The governor's fidgeting ceased, "...I-I don't know." Her words were more enunciated when she spoke. Sam pressed his sword a little harder against her neck. "Alright! I will tell you the truth!" She shouted quickly. "It was the Anged'der. They paid me to kill you." 

'Anged'der? Where have I heard that name?' This time there was no hesitation, but the words were still more enunciated than usual. She was still hiding something. 

"Who else?" Sam asked. 

The governor flinched, then finally shrieked. "The queen of Cresthtell, her sisthter!" The governor sobbed as she pointed a pudgy finger at Dettella. "She paid me to catch her!" 

Sam frowned, it didn't sound like a lie that time. 'Her sister?' He looked back at Dettella, who was watching with curiosity. "She claims your sister paid her to capture you." 

The princess's face darkened. "That is what I suspected. It is likely not a lie, if that's what you wished to confirm." Sam nodded, it didn't sound so far fetched to him as it maybe should have. 

"Where is the money?" He asked, turning back to the governor. 

"What?" She replied, sounding bewildered. 

"I asked where the money is. The money they paid you." 

"You are going to take it?!" 

"Naturally." Sam said. "I mean, it's only right that we take the money meant to do us harm, isn't it?" 

"A-Ath if I would give you my money!" The woman cried. "I'll die before I give you anything!" 

Before he could pull away, the woman lunged out of her chair. She moved quicker than anyone her size had any right to. Her massive hands closed around Sam's throat, and she tackled him down off the dais. His mind went blank, and his body stiffened. Ingrained instincts took him and he tried to curl up and hide his face. His sword clattered from his hand as his back impacted on the hard marble floor. 

'No... No, I need to fight back! I-I can't let myself be abused anymore. No more. N-No more. Please! No more!' He fought his instincts and tried to bring his hands up to pry hers away, but his body refused to cooperate. He couldn't even see his magic, let alone try to grasp it. Madeline slammed down on top of him, and began squeezing his neck harder and harder. 

'She's going to kill me.' Sam thought. 'It's finally going to happen.' His breathing ceased, and his lungs started to itch, then burn. 

"You should have thought about the consequences before going and snitching to Janine!" 

'Wh-What? I-I-I d-didn't...' Black and white flecks flashed in the corners of his vision. As his consciousness slipped away, his pain began to dull. Whiteness filled his vision, and for a moment he thought he could see his father's silhouette. Then, it stopped. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 10



His sight returned, his breath came in ragged gasps. Above him stood his youngest sister, Janine, holding a pan with tears in her eyes. Unconscious, Madeline lay over his body. No, it wasn't his half sister, it was the governor. And standing above him wasn't Janine, it was the violet haired elf. Her face was blank, and in her hands was not a pan, but her huge broadsword. 

Sam's body trembled and his eyes were blurring with tears. A wet warmth spread over his chest. It was blood. The governor's blood. Her head rolled off his chest as he tried to push himself up. Dettella rushed over to him and seemed to be talking to him, but he couldn't hear anything. He slid out from underneath the governor, and curled up, holding his knees to his chest. His entire body shook violently. 

Dettella grasped the sides of his face and forced him to look up. Her lips were moving in a frenzy. Tears dripped down her cheeks, and distantly Sam felt that he wanted to ease her worries, to wipe away her tears. He hyperventilated, each intake sending spikes of pain into his throat. His vision was shaky and unfocused as his eyes quivered in their sockets. 

A couple minutes later, he felt his breathing relax and his mind clear slightly. 'I-I'm fine. It wasn't her, I'm fine.' He breathed slowly, deeply. 'I need to be strong. I-I can do it. I will get better. That's how it works, right? I'll get better over time. No need to worry, just think about what needs to be done. Ah! Theodore! While I'm here freaking out, I'm making him wait! He needs to get help already! I need to get up. Get up, Sam. Move! Damn you, move!' 

His hands gradually unclasped themselves from around his knees. He could hear what Dettella was saying now, too. "...amson, please be alright! She's dead, it's fine now! Just, just please be okay!" Her silk gloves caressed his face and his eyes finally focused. 

Her lower lip quivered as he finally blinked and looked into her eyes. "I... am... al...right..." Sam managed to force out of his bruised throat. 

Dettella began to weep. She pressed herself to his chest and cried into his bloody shirt, he almost fell backward from the impact. "I-I'm so sorry, S-Samson. I-I should have, I should have done the confronting. I just, I-I don't know. You looked so confident, and I didn't want to ruin that. And I t-told, I told you I'd help you and then I do this..." 

Sam cut her off, "It's... fine," he croaked, "...not...your...fault." 

Dettella gulped and forced back a sob. "I-I'm so inconsiderate. Let me heal you." She said in a tight voice as she wiped away her tears, smearing blood across her cheeks in the process. 

Silver spirals surfaced on her skin, swirling gracefully over it. 'Even her magic is graceful...' Sam thought as she put her hands to his neck. A few seconds later the pain disappeared, leaving only a faint memory of it behind. 

"We'll need to have your clothes cleaned quickly so the blood does not stain." She said, regaining her composure. 

"Well, maybe." Sam said, as he slowly pushed himself up. His body still felt weak, but at least he could move. He stepped hesitantly to the corpse of the governor and pressed his hand to her thick wrist. He summoned his magic and the shimmering forms bloomed across his bare skin, reflecting off the pool of blood at his feet. 

The governor's blood instantly began flying in streams back into her body, followed closely by her head as it snapped back into position as if pulled by a strong magnet. When the neck sealed completely, Sam released his power and stood. His shirt was dry, and even the parts that had begun to coagulate were gone. He noticed there were several parts of his shirt that had been sliced off, though. 

"Damn, that'll take too long to fix right now..." He muttered. 

"Well, I could repair it fairly quickly." Dettella said. Sam turned to her, and saw that she was blushing faintly. "You would have to, um, take it off. I mean, that would make the process easier." 

"Ah, uh sure." Sam said, her embarrassment rubbing off on him. He removed his jacket and pulled off his shirt and handed it to Dettella. 

He tried to ignore the quick glances Dettella was giving him and looked around the room again. Sam frowned, the man who was chained to the chair still had yet to move. He strode over to the man, feeling a hint of worry for him. Finding that the collar required a key, he decided to leave that for later. He shook the elven man's shoulders. Getting no response, Sam pushed his hair away and looked at his face. 

He felt a gag rise in his throat at the sight. The man would have been considered a 'pretty boy', like one of those boy band members girls in his world seemed to clamor for, if he'd been healthy. The man's face was nearly gray. His lips were thin, and pulled back from lack of moisture. His teeth were yellowing and cavity ridden, and his eyes were missing altogether. Sam checked for a pulse. There was none... 

'I'm sorry.' Sam thought with a sad frown, and stepped away. He turned to see the knight standing right behind him. He jumped slightly, but realized she meant him no harm. Her near nudity made him blush. 

"I, er, I'm sorry about earlier. My magic... I-I guess it was controlling me. I'm not trying to excuse my actions or anything! It was wrong, it's my fault that I lost control..." He trailed off, seeing her hollow eyes. Her head tilted to the left, as if in confusion, but she did not reply. 

He finally spoke, feeling awkward in the silence. "Er... you should probably put your armor back on." She wordlessly walked over to her armor and began putting it on. 'Wha...?' 

"Here you are, Samson. I repaired your shirt." Dettella said, pulling his attention away from the odd behavior of the elf. 

"Ah! Thanks. That was nice of you." He took the shirt that looked as if it'd never been damaged from her hands. He hesitated. "...I, um, I wanted to apologize for... for kissing you so suddenly earlier. I realize now that it was a little presumptuous of..." 

She cut him off, "Don't apologize for that. I quite enjoyed it, so do not feel that way. After all, I did the same earlier, so I have no right to rebuke you for that even if I hadn't liked it." She said, giving him another of her smiles that seemed to warm his insides. "I do hope you will do it again, though perhaps right now isn't the best time." 

Sam felt his own blush creep up, and saw that the princess's cheeks were a little pink too. He rubbed the back of his head unconsciously. "Well, I mean you're a princess and all, and wouldn't it, I don't know... wouldn't people think it inappropriate or something like that?" 

"Nonsense. I've never been one to care what others think of me anyway." She replied, her usual poise returning. "It's not as if it's anyone else's business anyhow. Who I court is up to me, so don't feel like you are creating some sort of trouble for me." 

"A-Alright." Sam said, afraid to say more for fear of saying something stupid. Though, he did have a sort of goofy grin on his face. 

"Good." Dettella said, smiling back at him again. "Now, we must figure out how we're going to get out of here without causing a scene." 

She strode toward the deceased governor, rubbing her chin. Sam followed her, putting his clothing back on. He heard clinking, and realized that the knight was following him. He turned, and she stopped. 

"Um... Did you want something from me?" Sam asked, feeling a little nervous. The knight shook her helmeted head. "Then, er, why are you following me?" She tilted her head, but said nothing. "Well then... What's your name?" 

Finally she spoke, "Vielchena." 

"Veelkena?" Sam replied. "Did I say that right?" 

"Vielchena." She repeated, and said no more. 

He was starting to feel a little unnerved by her attitude. Her voice was so monotone, completely emotionless. Even more so than Darrel, which seemed almost impossible. He got the feeling that hers was genuine. "Um, very well, nice to meet you then, Vielchena." 

He turned back toward Dettella, having no idea what else to say to the elf. "Er, I think we should prioritize finding proof of her payment, a letter or something, if we can. We'll need someway to explain this when we get to the capital." 

"Mm. Yes, you're right. First, let us put the governor back in her chair, at least make it look like she's sleeping." Dettella replied, still rubbing her smooth chin thoughtfully. She knelt down over the governor's corpse and tried shifting it. It barely budged. "Blight! How did she even manage to stand, let alone lunge at you." 

Sam knelt down across from her and tested it himself. "Fuck. I don't know if we can move her back." 

"Blight, blight, blight! Blighted blight!" The princess stood and began pacing, rubbing at her chin furiously. 

Sam scratched his head. "Why do you keep saying blight like that?" Internally, he cursed at himself. 'Why the hell am I asking that at a time like this? Idiot, idiot, idiot!' 

However, the question seemed to relieve the pressure building on Dettella's shoulders. "How curious." She looked at Sam with such smoldering curiosity. The glint in her eyes reminded him of earlier when he'd started talking about cinnamon. "Odd that a commoner wouldn't know such a common curse." 

"A-Ah, I see." Sam replied, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. "I've never heard that used as a curse before." 

Her eyes shone. "Oh? What are the common curses where you're from." 

"Er..." He shuffled his feet. 'Should I be saying this stuff to a princess?' "Well, I mean... There's fuck...," 

Dettella cut him off, "What does it mean?" 

He stiffened visibly. 'Damn it Sam, you moron! We're supposed to be in a dire situation here and here I am distracting us from what's important.' His cheeks burned. "Well... Maybe we should discuss this at a better time." 

She looked disappointed for a split second, then her face became serious once again. 'Man, she can really change the atmosphere quickly...' 

"Yes, you are right. Try to help me drag her back up the dais at least." She said looking down at the corpse. He nodded and grabbed under the governor's armpit. The silky cloth of her dress was damp with sweat. "Alright, on a count of three. 1-2-3!" 

They both heaved. Sam found he was forced to do most of the lifting. Finally, they managed to get the woman's upper body onto the dais. The princess was breathing heavily, and he was only marginally better off. Dettella sat on the ledge of the dais, shaking her sweat dampened right hand vigorously. "This woman was quite foul." 

Sam agreed, but didn't voice it as he was distracted by Vielchena. She walked stiffly around the corpse and grabbed under the armpit opposite him. Her blank eyes looked not at him, but more past him through the slats of her helmet. 

He hesitated for a moment, "...1-2-3!" They pulled, and Sam was surprised to find that she was doing most of the work as the corpse slid easily up the dais to the foot of the chair. 'I'm not sure why I'm so surprised... She can swing around that ridiculous sword, so I guess she'd have to be fairly strong. It's odd to see so much strength in someone barely five feet tall though...' He thought as they stopped for a moment. 

"Okay, again!" They strained, and for a moment Sam thought they wouldn't actually be able to get her into the chair, but then he let out a final heave. The corpse flopped into the oversized chair as they let go. Her flabby arms hung limply over the armrests, jiggling slightly. "Phew..." 

'Man, I need to start doing more muscle training or something. Well, I guess I can't really expect to be all that strong yet, especially when I was just a librarian's assistant little over a week ago.' He thought as he gasped for breath. 

Sam looked behind the massive throne, seeing the corner of a small box peeking around it. 'Hey... What's that?' There were actually two boxes there. One was slightly larger than the other, but both seemed to be made of the same dark wood. Opening both clasps at once, he looked inside. Stack upon stack of square chips of silver glinted out at him from the large chest. The smaller one was filled with gold. Each one carried a scroll inside, the wax seals broken. 

"What is it?" Dettella asked, coming around beside him. "Ooh! These must be the bribes she received. They must have come in just before we arrived. Ah, this one must be from Tenall." She picked up the small parchment atop the gold and looked over it. "Mhm. As expected of my dear sister." 

Sam picked up the scroll atop the silver chips and unrolled it. 'Anged'der... I think Letta mentioned them before. I think that's who tried to kill me in Eltinn. If I remember correctly, they were spewing something about me being male that was too powerful or something along those lines. "You'll break the balance!" or some shit.' He smiled grimly. 'I won't die so easily. Not when I have things to live for now.' 

He began to read the note, barely noticing that it was in elvish. 

'Governess Rien, we send our regards. In this chest is 1000 silver pieces. We would like you to take care of a man, an 'other', we believe to be heading through your area of influence. If he does not, please keep the payment as a reward for your continued support. If he does, we will send a package containing tenfold the amount included here for your efforts.' 

It went on to describe his appearance in striking detail. From body type, eye and hair color, down to the most minute details, such as the small scar on his collar bone which was barely visible above his shirt. It included a list of scars on his torso as well, which he found odd considering the assassins last time hadn't seen him shirtless. His eyes widened even further when it described his manner of speech and 'accent', and his habit of rubbing the back of his head when flustered. 

'Do I rub the back of my head that much?' He wondered, then realized he was doing it at that very moment. 'I suppose I do, huh.' Sam looked up from the letter, noticing Dettella trying to peek at it with a curious glint in her eye. "Ah, um, I guess this group or something called Anged'der are after me. They attacked me back in Eltinn too. Something about me being too powerful to be allowed to live or some such." He explained. "The amount of detail they gave in their profile of me is frightening to say the least. Down to every scar I have, though I have no idea how they managed that." 

Dettella's eyebrows rose. "That is a dangerous group to have after you. They are ingrained deep in almost every country of the realm. I know for a fact that one of my teachers was an agent of theirs. She was quite... zealous." She said, getting a faraway look on her face. "Fortunately I had another teacher who was able to pull me away from the path she was trying to put me on. My good teacher ended up disappearing mysteriously a few years after." 

She shook her head and the look of nostalgia slipped away. "You were in Eltinn? The last I heard, my country's forces had broken through somewhere around there. Did you face difficulty there?" 

Sam shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say. Samson had warned him that he shouldn't give too much away, but Dettella was an honest person and quite kind from what he'd seen. A bit unworldly as well, though he hadn't been much better a week ago. He felt he could trust her not to do anything to harm him, especially after she'd said she fancied him. "No, we were gone before anything happened. I can tell you more later if you wish, but I think we should get out of here now." 

He grabbed the chest of silver and lifted it up. Dettella gave him an odd look. "What are you doing with that?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm taking it, that's what I'm doing with it. I figure it's only natural I take the money used to have me killed. Besides, I don't have any money, and I bet I'll need some sooner or later." 

"Ah, well I suppose that makes sense. It just seemed a little odd to take such a small amount, seems like it'll just be a burden." 

"Small amount...?" He looked down at the chest filled with silver. "I don't know how you could call this a small amount." 

She tilted her head. "Well it's just silver." 

"...I see. This must be because you're a princess." Sam nodded to himself. "I think this would be considered quite a fortune by the average person in this world. Or any world for that matter... This may seem a small amount to you, who are used to never wanting for anything, but I bet I could live comfortably off this for a long time if I was careful." 

She frowned. "...It seems I am more ignorant of the lives of common folk than I thought." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I will have to remedy that. Ah! I keep wasting time with questions, we need to go. Er... I suppose I will bring this gold." 

Dettella grabbed the small box and stood, placing the letter back inside with the gold. They headed for the door, and a question came to Sam. "Why did no one come? We must have made a lot of noise, someone must have heard it..." 

The princess shook her head. "Soundproofing. With this governor's apparent, um... disposition, she would have wanted to keep sound from getting out." She said with a glance back at the sitting corpse of the elven man. "My mother had a similar room, as does my sister, who has recently ascended to the queen's high seat. Though, I believe my mother was not the same as this woman. My sister on the other hand... she might be worse." 

Sam paused in front of the large double doors. "...I don't think I'd like to meet your sister anytime soon." He said, glancing at the chest of gold in her hands. He shuddered. 

"...Neither would I." She replied quietly as he pushed open the doors. 

The guards just outside helped open them when they saw him struggling to push them with the chest in his arms. They glanced inside, seeing the governor sat on her throne. What happened next surprised Sam. 

"The lady would like to be left alone with her toy for a time. She has requested I escort the esteemed guests to the north gate personally." Vielchena said, her voice as emotionless as a rock. A very bland rock. "Make certain none disturb the lady until she has finished." 

The guards nodded in respect to her as they walked down the hall. When out of earshot, Sam turned to her. "Thank you, that was very nice of you to do that for us." 

She looked at him blankly through her helmet for a moment. "Yes... Master..." 

Sam's eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks. "Eh...? What? Did you just call me master?" She did not reply, just continued staring blankly. 

"Let's go, Samson. Darrel must be waiting by now. Your friend as well, he needs treatment quickly, right?" Dettella said, breaking him from his shocked reverie. 

"Y-Yes..." He said, blinking as he turned forward again. 

They found Darrel heading toward them in one of the branching hallways, following the elven handmaiden, Giela. When she saw Dettella she stiffened and bowed formally. Darrel looked them over. 

"There was trouble." He said, not a question. "We must leave quickly." 

"As observant as ever." Dettella replied. "We must make haste, before they realize the governor is dead. Giela please carry this for me." 

The former butler stiffened again at the mention of the governor's death. "Of course, milady. I will guide you out of the manor if you please." Giela said, taking the box from the princess. "I-Is the lady Vielchena accompanying you?" 

"Yes, it seems she is." Dettella said, glancing at Sam for a moment. He shrugged sheepishly. "And you can drop the formalities for now, Giela. Earlier I was only testing if you could be disciplined when necessary. Right now, speed is of the utmost importance." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 10



Giela nodded severely and turned quickly, starting back down the hall. She led them through the confusing corridors without hesitation. Darrel fell in line with Sam at the back of the group. 

"What happened?" 

"The governor was paid by two groups. The queen wanted Dettella captured, and the Anged'der wanted me dead." Sam said quickly. "The governor told Vielchena, the knight, to kill us, but she ended up being killed by her instead. I'll explain it better, later." 

For a moment Darrel did not reply. "...After seeing your power, I knew they would come after you eventually. They always do." Darrel looked pensively at the ceiling for a moment, then turned back to him. His eyes were hard, a smoldering flame of rage threatening to blaze into a bonfire. "I will train you to the level of a sword captain, so that you may have a chance at a longer life." 

Sam's eyes widened. "You... will? Wait, sword captain? What does that mean?" 

"I am a sword captain. I will train you to the point that you could easily defeat 90% of the realm in a one-on-one duel. That is what it means." Darrel explained. "It will take two and a half years in total. One and a half, if you train for four hours a day." 

'A daunting task...' Sam thought. "I will accept your offer." 

"Then we begin tonight. I warn you, you will want to complain about the ferocity I train you with. Do not. It is for your own good, and the good of any you consider friend." He paused, and had that pensive look for another moment. "Or lover. It is no fault of your own, but due to the nature of your own power you put all around you in danger." 

"I won't complain or whine about it. I promise." Sam replied, feeling a slight rush of excitement. 'Sword. Yes, I'll be able to use it more! I'll train. Training equals Sword. Sword.' He shook his head vigorously. 'No! I need to stop that! Damn... but I really want to use it again. Maybe training will help keep that urge under control...' 

Darrel just grunted in response and slipped to the back of the group, tilting his head slightly as if he was listening to something. Sam looked forward again and realized they were coming up to the front door. He half expected the guards to stop them as they went through, but nothing happened. Under the overcast sky once again and out of that house of eye blinding color, he realized something. 'I... I had my first kiss today... and my second, which I actually initiated... and the woman I kissed, she's a princess. A beautiful one... Holy shit.' 

He just stopped in the middle of the cobbled path, and touched his middle and index fingers to his lips. He ran that same hand through the unruly, wavy locks of his hair as he let that fact settle over him. 'She also said she 'fancied' me... and mentioned courting me, which I think is pretty much the same as dating...' He felt a small bashful smile creep onto his face. 

"Samson? Is everything alright?" Dettella asked, breaking him from his reverie once again. 

"Ah, yeah I'm fine." Sam answered quickly. 'Better than fine, I feel like I could do anything right now...' He thought, as they resumed walking toward the gate of the manor. If only he could have felt like that forever. 

When they got back to the carriage, Fenella walked straight for him. "Your friend is on death's door. We won't make it to the capital in time... It might be a good time to say your goodbyes." 

Sam stumbled and fell to his knees before her. With those few words, she sent him from the heights of happiness to a numbing despair. 'No... Please, no...' 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 10. Darn! Cliffhanged again! I'd be interested to hear if anyone had suggestions for improving my writing, I'm very open to criticism and I take every comment into consideration. So please feel welcome to leave one. I think being able to reach out to people and discuss the story or characters or anything really, is one of the best parts about writing. I pretty much reply to everything (other than insults without constructive criticism, of course). 

P.S. I don't normally beg for ratings, just feels weird to me tbh, but I was curious if there would be a difference. So, please leave a rating if you have time to do an extra click!



Bound in Spirals Ch. 11



Major thanks to my editor Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own. Bonus thanks to A.A.A. for the extra help they added! 

Enjoy! 

————— 

Dettella stood over Sam as he collapsed from the devastating news. 'His friend is... dying.' She thought. Not having any connection to the man, she couldn't understand what Sam was going through. But, she did know that if he died now it might break Sam. 'I have to do something! Can I comfort him somehow? No no, I need to make sure his friend lives. If I fail in that, comforting him will be the only option, but that probably won't help much. I need to make sure his friend doesn't die.' 

As she began wracking her mind for answers she noticed the elven knight, Vielchena. She was looking down at Sam. The elf looked back up, then started walking back toward the manor. 'What...? Her behavior, it's very strange...' Dettella shook her head. 'Focus. I must find an answer! An elf mage? No, none would help!' Around her, the others seemed just as unable to act as she was. Even Darrel looked uncertain as Sam started muttering something she couldn't understand, whether it was just inaudible or incomprehensible she wasn't sure. 

She was still franticly trying to come up with something when Vielchena returned. Following her was another elf. This one was short. More so than most of the other elves she'd seen. '...Why did she bring a child here?' Vielchena touched Sam's trembling shoulder, and his head slowly turned up to her. Dettella nearly gasped at the look in his eyes. They held no tears, no emotion at all. It looked like he was staring at something beyond the elf. 

Then the elven woman spoke, and pointed at the child. "...friend...help..." Dettella wasn't sure exactly what she was saying, but based on what she did understand, she deduced that the child must be an elven mage. 

Sam's eyes seemed to refocus for a moment, shifted back, then focused again. Finally, his face showed a hint of emotion. A glimpse of hope had come, and he latched on desperately. He stood quickly, gestured for the elves to follow him and began running to the carriage, his cloak flapping behind him. The knight followed immediately, but the child hesitated a moment before following, his face showing a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. 

When Dettella broke from her reverie, she went after them quickly, holding the skirt of her dress firmly in both hands. 

——— 

Samson sat in the room made of magic, unsure of how to respond. The man who'd made the room... The man who was the room waited silently for his answer. 'What...? What do you mean I'm a god now?' 

'I mean exactly that. When you were killed and your alternate self looked at the portal page simultaneously, your spirit, soul, essence, whatever you would call it, was pulled into the magic world. Now, you are a god.' The man replied. 

'I... I still don't quite understand. How does that even work? And, how does that suddenly make me a god? Do I have the ability to create, or control nature?' Samson asked. With each answer the man gave, it seemed to create more questions. 

'Well, no, you do not have any powers of creation. That is the most common definition of a god, yes, but it is not the reality. The truth is that we have no such abilities, but we do have influence. By that, I mean we can connect ourselves to a living mage and communicate with them, we can even grant them some of our accumulated magic. The more malevolent of us try to control their saints, that is how we refer the mages we are connected to, rather than playing a more supportive role.' 

'Wait, grant them your magic? Is that how Sam, uh, my saint became so powerful?' 

'No, for some reason he is just an extraordinarily gifted mage. Some of the older of us have faint recollections of similar people in the past, but we're not sure for what reason they have so much magic, or if there is a reason at all. You see, once you become a god all memories become dull after a time, except for your own life. For the same reason, our dispositions are set in a sort of near permanent state. 

'The way we were as living people is how we continue to be as gods. Those who were full of happiness in life are generally benevolent gods, those filled with hatred are those who seek to create chaos or ruin the lives of those they blame for their misfortune. That is where the current idea of a single benevolent god, and an evil opposite come from. Some of the saints in the past tried to explain the truth, but over time it became a different concept entirely.' The man told him. 

'Alright... but that still doesn't explain how I suddenly became one of you. Does everyone who dies become a god?' 

'No, it is quite uncommon for a new god to appear, only every hundred years or so. As for where the majority of humans go when they die, we have no idea. Most of us believe they just disappear into the void on the other side of the world of magic. It is a fairly common belief among the living as well.' 

'You're still avoiding the part about how I didn't get thrown into the void, and ended up a "god" in this so called world of magic.' Samson pressed. 

The man let out a sigh. 'Truthfully, we do not know exactly how it works. Again, we are not like the all powerful creator that the living think of when "god" is brought up. I don't have every answer you want, and I doubt any other god does either. So I'm afraid you will have to make due with what little information I possess.' 

'...Alright, I understand. Sorry, I'm just a little uneasy with all of this, and I'm anxious because my "saint" was half dead, ahem, when I was last with him.' 

'Your concern is justified, but your saint is alive and well at the moment. My own saint is with him, along with two others nearby. Though I am uncertain of the others' intentions, they don't appear to be hostile. We should make this quick though, do you have any more important questions.' 

Samson had more questions than he could manage at once, but the man had said important questions. 'Well, I suppose knowing how the whole granting magic thing works would be good, and why you have all of these different colors of it.' 

'Ah, well that is quite simple. To grant magic, you summon it the way you would as a living person, then push it into your saint's magic. The reason for the different colors of magic I have is because, when a saint dies the magic is taken by the god connected to them. These are the gifts left behind by the many friends I've had as a god. As you can see based on the lighter color, they are all bind magic. Whatever type of mage you were as a living person is what type of mage you can connect to.' 

'Alright, I have two more questions. First, is there a limit to how many saints you can be connected to at once?' 

'You can only connect to one at a time.' He replied quickly. 

'Okay. And lastly, what is your name?' Samson asked. 

The man laugh heartily. 'My name is Rentell. I will contact you again Samson, when the time is right.' He said. Then, the room was gone and Samson was alone. 

He nearly panicked for a moment, then as he shifted he saw Sam's vast pool of magic below him. It flowed and twisted, making it look like an ocean of silver and gold, with a sky of black looming above. 'Well, that's a lot to swallow... Time to find my way back to the center then.' And with that, he began swimming through the ocean of power. 

——— 

Sam ran to the carriage, his heart pumping. 'Hope. There's hope. Hope...' He threw open the door and looked inside. There was another person inside who tried to tell him something, but Sam didn't see them. All he could see was Theodore, and his sickly pale face. "Here, this is him." He said over his shoulder. 

Vielchena silently moved to the side, allowing the small boy to pass. The young elf looked at Sam with confusion, and a little interest written over his face. Then the boy stepped into the carriage, his previous emotions vanished to be replaced by a solemn expression. 

"I cannot heal him completely. It is beyond my current capabilities, but I will do what I can." The boy swept back his pure white hair, and glanced at Sam for a split second. "You are strange. I have never met an equal." 

Sam did not respond, he was too focused on Theodore. For a moment, he thought his friend had stopped breathing, but it was just due how shallow it was. Each breath he took barely moved his chest at all. Sam's eyes flicked over as the elf first removed the bandages, then placed his hands on Theodore's head. His white hair seemed to lose it's weight and flowed around like a sea anemone, then began to softly glow silver. 

"There are traces of slime in his bloodstream. It seems to be slowly eating away at his lungs and heart. None have reached the brain yet, else there would be no recovery." The boy said quietly. "Whoever has been treating him thus far is quite skilled for a human. He would have died days ago without the herbal medicines he's been receiving." 

Suddenly, the boy's hair flicked, then brightened. His eyes were intense as he focused on Theodore. After a minute of silence, small globules of green began to ooze out from Theodore's open wounds. They dribbled down onto the bandages, followed by a flood of yellowish discharge. The swelling went down, and Theodore was almost instantly starting to look better. 

"I have done what I can. He will make it to your next destination, which I assume is Geylin. You should burn those bandages before that slime spreads." 

Sam almost cried in relief. He'd been on the verge of succumbing to his looming madness just minutes before in his grief. "Thank you... I-I will pay you, I have some silver!" 

"No pay. I do not need it. I would not be allowed to keep it besides." The young elf replied, then left the carriage. 

Dettella and Fenella looked into the carriage a minute later. Both widened their eyes at the sight of Theodore. Fenella grabbed the soiled bandages and carried them outside, while Dettella grabbed Yalene, who was fuming after being ignored and dragged her out. Sam was left alone with his friend, unable to move from his kneeling position. He did not move until Dettella guided him into the plush carriage seat, next to his friend. 

It was apparently time to leave, but Sam's mind and body were so exhausted that he didn't even register it as the carriage began to move. His soul pleaded for sleep, and he was only too eager to comply. So, he slept. 

——— 

"AAAACHAGHH!!" He clutched at his stomach, the piercing pain bringing him to a brutal awakening. He felt like someone had stabbed him with a rusty knife after heating it over a flame, then began twisting it inside him. "AAAAAAAAAH!" 

It was so excruciating that for a while he couldn't remember who he was, what had happened. He couldn't even think. Copious amounts of sweat rolled off his face, chest, arms, everywhere. Time seemed to pass slowly, yet quickly at the same time. 

Severed hands crawled up his bare body, caressing him, spilling blood from their shredded wrists. Some of them started snapping, others clapped each other. Some just continued gently touching him, comforting him. They started creating a rhythm, snap snap, clap, snap snap snap, clap clap, snap snap, clap, snap snap snap, clap clap. 

Then the ones that were not previously occupied began tickling him all over. At first he just kept screaming, but the hands were persistent. They were not to be denied. He began laughing. He laughed and laughed, unable to control himself. The hands were just too good at tickling. He laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe. His laughter quickly became a sort of combination of screaming and laughing. 

The hands were going to kill him, tickle him to death. Every movement they seemed to tickle him more, making his laughter and screams intensify. Even the endless amount of crimson blood that spilled over him tickled his skin. With each laugh, each scream, the pain got worse. He tried to shirk away the hands, tried to get them away. Fear filled him. The warm blood was everywhere. 

Hands filled the small room. They tickled, snapped, clapped, caressed, bled. Then, one of them tickled his stomach, and his laughter ceased completely. He just screamed, and clawed at his face. His own blood mixed with that of the hands, followed soon after by tears. The overflowing liquid slowly rose up in the small room, filling it. Soon, the hands on the floor were consumed by it. 

The red fluid reached the bottom of his feather mattress, then rose above, joining the blood, sweat and tears that already pooled around him. It climbed further, enveloping him. It went up his nose, in his ears, down his throat, yet he still managed to scream. His vision went red, then black. The hands were gone, the blood was gone, but he still screamed. 

He fell through an endless blackness, finding no floor to cease his suffering. In the back recesses of his mind, the part that still could form something resembling a thought, Hennel prayed for death. Then, he woke. 

"AAAACHAGHH!!" He clutched at his stomach, the piercing pain bringing him to a brutal awakening. He felt like someone had stabbed him with a rusty knife after heating it over a flame, then began twisting it inside him. "AAAAAAAAAH!" 

Then, it began again. 

——— 

Dettella let out a sigh. They were finally out of that blighted city and they'd managed to do so without being attacked. All of the days occurrences seemed to slam into her at once. Kissing Sam, her admission of attraction to him, the governor attempting to have them killed, Sam losing his control again, him kissing her, Vielchena joining them for some reason, and Sam's friend nearly succumbing to his ailments. If it had been stressful for her, she couldn't imagine the toll it had taken on Sam. 

She tried to be worried for his sake, but she was still too gleeful over his requital of her feelings. It felt like she was in one of those saccharine romance novels, the ones about love at first sight. And as much as she didn't particularly enjoy it in the books, she was finding it to be quite thrilling in reality. 'I am being far too naive about this. True romance is not perfect... but I can fret over that later. I can pretend it is for a while at least. Who knows, maybe this will turn out to be the exception to the rule.' 

Dettella doubted the thought already, but she couldn't help hoping for it. 'When did I become a starry-eyed maiden, wishing for a sweet romance?' She shook her head. 'I really should get these thoughts out of my head. Such distractions could get us killed, or worse, get us captured by Tenall. I've already made the mistake once, and was barely saved by Samson, who was in turn aided by luck.' 

"Milady," Giela broke her from her rambling thoughts, "I... I feel that I must ask, why did you hire me? And, right after I insulted you. On top of that... I mean, I'm an elf. Why would a human want me as a personal handmaiden?" 

Dettella looked at her new handmaiden, who now sat where Yalene would have. For a moment, she recalled the looked of utter horror on her ex-servant's face when she handed her the five gold chips and told her she was relieved of service. It had been somewhat satisfying for a moment, then she'd felt guilty for delighting in another's distress. She was then almost immediately relieved of her guilt by the look of absolute hatred Yalene shot at Sam, who had still been kneeling in the carriage at the time. 

She shook her head again, and looked at Giela's worried hazel eyes. "Now, I don't mean to sound too pretentious when I say this, but I am not the average human. I try hard to judge intelligent creatures by their actions, not by trivialities such as race, wealth, and sex. That said, I am not perfect and some prejudices are so deeply ingrained that I cannot help thinking certain ways. Sorry, I'm beginning to ramble. What I mean is that I don't care what race you are, as long as you're competent and treat others fairly. 

"When I first saw you, your expression held none of the resentment or disgust that is common when one when one sees someone of another race. You also seemed relatively intelligent, though I suppose that wouldn't be saying much considering my last handmaiden. Honestly, I just needed to get rid of her quickly, I was afraid she might end up killing Samson if she was around much longer. Ah! I'm rambling again," Dettella closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, "I tend to talk too much when I get tired." 

"It is alright, milady. I think I enjoy conversing with you." Giela said, giving her a tentative smile. 

Dettella smiled tiredly in response. "That is good. Well, I think I should sleep a little before we catch up to Letta." 

"Letta? Who is that?" Giela asked, but Dettella was already fading into sleep. 

——— 

Hennel woke screaming, again. His body trembled and his stomach seared with pain. He waited for the hands to come again, to torture him with their ceaseless clapping, snapping, and tickling, then for them to drown him in blood... They didn't come. He managed to shift his head enough to look to his left, biting back his screams. 

The room was lit only by a flickering candle on the side table, casting dancing shadows across the white walls. He assumed he must have vomited in his sleep, likely urinated as well, due to the smell. He saw the shadow of a hand silhouetted against the wall and he whimpered pitifully. Then he realized it was just an illusion, it had only been the vase of wilting flowers. Hennel let out a hoarse laugh, delighting in his freedom from the torturous dreams. He wanted to continue laughing, continue reveling in the silliness of his situation, but his gut protested. 

Somehow, it seemed the pain had spread further out from the initial wound. It wasn't just the small area now, but nearly the whole of his stomach area. He felt tears fall unbidden from his eyes. 'Damn you! How long will this last?!' Hennel wanted to wipe away the tears, but his body was protesting his every movement. He felt exhausted already, and he'd only been awake for a few minutes. 

'No... No, please... No I can't fall asleep, I can't take any more of the nightmares. No more.' He forced himself to move, and his arm came up. Then it fell limply to his stomach. He howled in pain, trying to yank his arm away but it was slow, lethargic. He began to weep and laugh at how pathetic he was. 'I want to die. Nothing could be worse than this. Someone kill me, please. I-I don't... No. I want to live, but this pain, it's too much... Just put me out of my misery... Ah-I'm such a disgrace, even my crying is pathetic.' 

The door to his room opened and light spilled in, illuminating the messy room. Someone stood in the doorway. 'My... savior? Will you kill me?' 

A woman's voice spoke back out into the hall, "Please, let me have some time with my brother. I wish to be alone with him for a while." 

'Tenall...' Something worse had just arrived. She strode in, closing the door behind her. In her left hand she carried a crystal that glowed an intense white. 

Tenall noticed that he was awake and cooed gleefully, "Oooh, you're awake." She grinned maliciously. "Ah, but unfortunately I plan to save you for later. You will be my appetizer before Dettella." Hennel hardly heard her words, he was staring intently at the odd crystal in her gloved hand. "Oh, this? This is a crystal named quartz, it produces such a brilliant light when imbued with binding magic. It was only discovered recently, and it is in high demand. Even for such a small piece I had to pay an exorbitant price. Not that it really matters now that I am queen, I have plenty of riches for now." 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 11



Hennel looked away from the strange crystal and tried to read his sister's face. As usual, she displayed everything in her mind quite prominently. As she looked over his bare torso, her smile became even more wicked with delight. "My dear brother, it is wonderful to see you again. I cannot recall a time we spent together that was so pleasant." 

Hennel could only grunt in response, his chest was tightening with fear. Normally he did not worry around his sister, but that was when he could defend himself. As it was, he could do nothing to keep her agony inflicting hands away from him. 

"I brought you a gift." She said, her eyes twinkling in the light of the quartz. Reaching into the folds of her crimson dress, she pulled out something Hennel couldn't see. Tenall continued, "You see, I heard you have been sleeping fitfully, so I figured I would bring something to help ease that." 

At her words, Hennel stiffened. 'What does she mean?!' Finally, she revealed what she held in her hand. 

"Unfortunately, since it was on such short notice I couldn't bring more, but I hope you'll appreciate this much at least. Since I am your dearest sister after all, I felt that I should give you a hand with whatever problems you have." Tenall gave a soft laugh, and held out her hand to him. Or rather, she held out someone else's hand. 

Hennel tried to scream, tried to move away, to look away. He was frozen with terror, unable even to breathe. The hand was that of a child, the shredded wrist still dripped liquid scarlet. Black spots flickered white in the corners of his vision as he stared at the mangled hand. The small, crooked fingers were bruised purple from being broken. Where the fingernails should have been, only crusted blood remained. 

"Hm, where should I leave this? I can't exactly leave it out in the open, I wouldn't want some flappy mouthed shite-stain to start some strange rumors about you. That would be troublesome for me." Tenall said, as casual as if she was asking where to hang her coat. "Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to come back later with a better means of storage. Farewell for tonight Henn, I'll visit again." 

With those parting words, she turned and strode back toward the door, stuffing the mutilated hand down her generously exposed cleavage. By the time she opened the door, Hennel had passed out, having not breathed since the Tenall had shown her 'gift'. The torturous dreams began anew. Though, it was different this time. This time, the hands were all smaller. The broken, disfigured hands of children. 

——— 

'Sam! Sam please wake! Pup, wake up!' 

'Oi, get up Sam! I need to talk to you!' 

Two voices spoke inside Sam's head, dragging him out of his dreamless slumber. One was that of Letta, the other was... Samson. 'Samson?!' He shot forward, his eyes looking around franticly. He sucked in air, trying to remember where he was. He attempted to shake away the fog from his mind, but the fatigue was persistent. 

"Uuogh... Wha?" Sam mumbled. 'I'm... in the carriage again. Ah, now I remember.' Across from him, Dettella and her new handmaiden slept. 

'Now that, that's just unfair.' Samson said in his head. 

'Huwha...?' 

'I mean look at her, how can one still be beautiful in their sleep? She should drool a bit, or maybe snore at least. But look at her, sleeping upright as if she's just closing her eyes for a moment.' Samson replied. 'By the way, when did you start making such weird 'confused' sounds?' 

'Where the hell have you been?! I needed your help and you weren't there!' Sam said, ignoring Samson's words. 'What happened?' 

'Long story. Basically, I... Wait I'll just insert the information into your head.' 

Sam suddenly felt woozy. 'Oh crap, don't do it all at once like that... I'm gonna throw up.' He scrambled to open the door. The cold air hit him like a slap to the face, breaking him from his dizzy spell along with his fatigue almost instantly. 'Ugh... That was close.' 

A huge wall of gray suddenly appeared before him. Letta peered down at him from above, looking a combination of worried and frustrated. 

'I thought I told you not to get into any trouble in the city! You foolish pup, I cannot let you out of my sight for a moment!' The huge argwolf scolded. 

'I'm sorry Letta. It wasn't my fault though, the governor was planning it since before we even arrived. We did survive though, so that's good at least.' Sam replied, trying to mollify her. 

'Not without cost, pup. You must not lose your control so easily.' 

'Yes, you're right.' He replied, feeling ashamed. 'Wait, how do you know that?' 

'I can see it in your eyes, Sam. You must be more careful, if you keep on as such you will only continue to lose more of yourself.' Letta said, sounding more relaxed now. 

'...Okay. I will work harder to keep control.' Sam frowned. 'What...? Samson, are you whistling?' 

'Yes. I'm still waiting for some sort of reaction from you.' He replied. 

'How are you doing tha...? Holy shit. What is all this god business? You talked to some other dude like you? What did he mean there are others nearby?' 

Samson sighed. 'The only real answer I can give is 'I have no idea' so... I have no idea. That's the answer to the whistling thing too, by the way. This Rentell person was trying to give me answers, but really only gave me more questions.' 

'Christ, the implications of this are huge! Why didn't this guy come sooner?' Sam asked. 

'He didn't say, but my guess is that either there wasn't a good time, or his 'saint' had to be nearer to mine. You're my saint apparently, just so you know.' 

'I see... I'll need some time to think about this, but for now I'm starving.' Sam said, feeling his stomach rumble. 'Letta, I'll explain everything that happened in the city once I'm done preparing something to eat.' 

'I heard most of the occurrences from the guard and the healer talking together. I am yet to hear what happened with the governor, though.' She said, stepping back from the carriage. 

Sam walked out into the cold night, for once feeling grateful that he was wearing his cloak. A small fire flickered off to the right of the road, melting a circle in the frost covered ground. He closed the carriage behind him, and started walking toward the group huddled around the fire. Halfway there he slipped and nearly fell, but was saved when Letta propped him up with her snout. 

"Thanks." He whispered, and she nodded to him. 

As he got closer, he counted seven people around the fire. 'Who...?' Five of the seven were elves, he realized. Darrel, Fenella, Vielchena, and the four elves they'd caught after the battle. 'Why did Vielchena follow? Is she trying to spy or something? If so, she's not very subtle about it. No, I don't think that's it...' 

'Hey, who are all of these people?' Samson asked. 

'Just read my mind, I don't feel like explaining all of it.' 

'Er... I'd rather not. I don't want to accidentally see anything you don't want me to.' 

'Just skim the surface, I'm thinking about it so it probably won't be hard.' 

'Al-Alright.' Samson still sounded hesitant. '...It seems there are some blanks in your memory?' 

'Ah, uh yeah. That was when I lost control. Well, just leave me alone for a bit. I need some time to think, and to eat.' 

Samson grumbled something about him being ungrateful, then retreated. Sam stepped into the firelight, hugging his cloak closer around his chest. Six heads turned toward him, Vielchena being the odd one out. 

"Brrr... How the hell did it get so cold all of a sudden?" He asked, looking around for a moment before taking a seat on the log next to Darrel. 

"The further north we go the colder it will get. This is relatively mild." Darrel answered, sounding unaffected by the chill. "It will begin getting warmer soon. Dawn is approaching. We will have our first training session then." 

"A-Alright. Um, Fenella, where'd you put the ingredients? I'll make that potato soup again." Sam looked at the healer, who appeared to be in deep thought. When she didn't respond, he said her name again. 

"Huh? Oh, what did you want?" Fenella replied, sounding distant. 

It seemed strange to him, she hadn't ever seemed so distracted before. 'Whatever.' He repeated his question. 

"Ah, they are in my chest obviously." She said, then immediately returned to her own thoughts. 

'I meant where your chest was... Oh well, I'll find it.' Sam thought. He glanced at the faces surrounding the fire before standing. Three of the captive elves looked back contemptuously, while one looked away, seeming conflicted. She looked familiar, but he didn't bother trying to place her at that moment. Vielchena, he noticed, was still wearing her armor and hadn't put on any new clothes underneath. 'Holy... She must be freezing! I'll go get my extra pants and shirt for her!' 

He tried to jog back to the carriage, but slipped in almost the exact same spot as last time. Again, Letta was there to save the day. Or rather, his ass from getting covered in frost. 

"Thanks, again." He whispered, and she nodded again. 

With that, Sam went to the back of the princess's carriage and found first his spare clothes, then the cooking supplies and returned to the fire. He circled it and set the worn pants, spare socks, and grass stained shirt in the elven knight's lap. She looked up, her stare emotionless, then back down at the clothes as if she didn't understand what to do with them. 

"Er... Vielchena? You should change into those. You might freeze out here, so please wear them." Sam said, unsure how she would react. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the captive elves jump slightly at hearing him speak their tongue. One of them grumbled something, but Sam couldn't hear what. "Sorry, they're a bit dirty still but please wear them." 

"Master..." Was her only reply, then she stood and started stripping off her armor. 

"H-Hey wha...?" He tried to tell her not to change right there, but she either ignored him or didn't hear. 

Seeing that he wouldn't be able to get her to move he just looked away. Putting the pot over the small flame, he took some of the spare wood and stoked the fire, then began preparing the soup. A few minutes later he glanced back at the knight and saw that she'd dressed and put her scratched gold armor back on over it. His large clothes peeked out from every open crevice in her armor. 

He sighed and stirred the soup, wondering why she had been acting the way she was. The elves were staring at the pot of soup hungrily, forcing themselves to look away when he glanced at them. As he cooked, he silently explained to Letta everything that she hadn't already heard about the occurrences in the city of Fraeline. After the food was done, he began to ladle it out into the mismatched bowls and hand them to everyone around the fire. 

Fenella became more alert when he stuck the steaming soup under her nose. She cooed, grinning, "Why thank you, Sam!" 

Darrel just nodded, tasted it, then nodded again approvingly. Vielchena took it, then murmured 'master' again, causing Sam to flinch. The elf who'd seemed conflicted about something earlier took the bowl he offered with only a moments hesitation, she nodded her thanks reluctantly. The two male elves refused altogether, and the last female captive took it with a scowl. None said anything to him. 

He sighed and sat back down with his own bowl. The meal passed without conversation, and Sam wasn't too bothered by it. He needed some time to think to himself. '...Well, it looks like Theodore will last at least until we get to the capital, Geylin or whatever it's called, but I'm still not sure how I can get them to heal him. Hell, we might not even get into the city alive if word of what's happened reaches them before we do. 

'Hahhh... What should I do? Is there anything I can do...? I suppose I'll have to trust Dettella's negotiation skills. She said she's good with that sort of thing, right? But... But what if she won't help me? What if her talk of courtship was just so she could use me?! What if she's just like all of the others, just taking advantage of me?! Just acting kind to gain my trust?! Just waiting until I'm no longer useful to toss me away?! It's only a matter of time!' He snapped out of it when the hot soup spilled over his bare hand. 

Sam looked down at the steaming liquid on the back of his hand, uncomprehending for a moment. His body was trembling. His eyes were swimming, on the verge of tears. Air came in through ragged gasps, then the hot pain finally registered. The shaking subsided, his eyes cleared, and he managed a deep, calming breath. 

'Sam, are you alright?' Both Letta and Samson said simultaneously. 

'Ah, yeah. Just let my thoughts get away from me for a moment, I'm fine.' He sent his reply to both. 

Samson gave him something of a mental nod, then retreated again. When he looked up, Sam realized Darrel was looking at him and that Vielchena had moved to sit next to him. The elven knight had a hand on his shoulder while looking sightlessly into the fire. 

"We will start when you are done eating." Darrel said, then stood and left the firelight. It was then that Sam noticed the first shadows of dawn as the pale light filtered in through the dense forest. 

He hurriedly licked the cooling soup from his hand and finished off the rest of his bowl. Then, he stood and followed after Darrel, leaving the healer to watch after the bound captives. 

——— 

Hennel woke from his repeating nightmare to find his bed soaked in his bile and urine. Tears filled in his eyes, sweat beaded his skin, and his own blood caked his untrimmed fingernails. He cautiously looked down at his torso. Red scratches scored his chest and stomach, everywhere but the original wound. The scar itself had remained the same, but the pain had spread further. His whole gut screamed with pain, and even his sides and chest were starting to ache. 

Dark, bruise colored lines traced jagged patterns outward from the glossy smooth scar. It looked like something that shouldn't be real, so gruesomely hideous. His head fell limply back against his damp pillow. 'Why...?' He stared at the ceiling, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to scream. Teeth clenched, Hennel silently begged for mercy. 

"That bad, eh?" Deredd sat with both arms and legs crossed, leaning against the wall just below the window. Blue light of dawn streamed in over him, creating a spotlight on the closed door. His voice was soft, serious. It was unnerving to see Deredd acting like this. "Do you want to know who?" 

Hennel's eyes widened, bloodshot red surrounding pale green. "Yes..." He croaked. 

"Inendell." 

'What? That small city-state to the southwest of Stralden? Why, I don't understand?' He tried to voice this, but it was too much. 

"I extracted the information from one of our prisoners personally, and I had the information checked. My... friend, who lives near the state, told me that he's seen numerous caravans full of young women being transported there. Apparently it has been happening for more than 30 years. I asked him to do some more investigation, and he found that there is a 'training camp' of sorts being conducted there. 

"I don't know for certain yet, but I suspect that they are under the direct orders of the Queen of Stralda, mostly due to the fact that these assassins hadn't been used up until this point. I believe that either they are difficult to train properly, or she was too loathe to admit that the sword captains are as dangerous as we are, especially considering that 90 percent of us are male. Perhaps it is both her prejudice, and the limited supply. Else, why would so few of them be sent, and why wait so long?" Deredd explained. 

"...How...?" Hennel asked. 

"How did I extract the information?" Hennel nodded. "The first one was lucky, but the second wasn't too difficult after I took away her means of suicide." Deredd didn't offer further details, but the prince was quite aware of the former torturer apprentice's skills. 

For a time, they just sat in silence, then Deredd spoke again. "Do you want to leave? Your sister won't be able to torment you anymore. I can get you out, we could meet up with the princess in Geylin, maybe get you healed better." Hennel gave his friend an odd look. "How did I know she was tormenting you already? I know blood when I smell it, alright. The queen does not clean her hands, nor the hands of others." 

At the mention of hands, Hennel winced. He wanted to hide, he wanted to leave. "Not... yet..." 

Deredd looked worried, but nodded and stood. "I have to report to the queen in an hour, so I must go prepare. I'll let Fiernil know you're up." With that, he left the pained prince to stare at the ceiling while he tried not to scream. 

——— 

Sam caught up to Darrel just as he stepped into a clearing in the trees. The man turned and faced him. He drew a sword that looked different than the one Sam had seen him use before, it looked more ordinary somehow. 

"Pull your sword. Wrap it in this." Darrel said, tossing him a wide strip of thin cloth. Sam drew his blade slowly and wound the cloth around it, then bound it on with magic. He used his power to bind Darrel's cloth as well. "Okay, what do you want me to do first?" 

"Come at me with everything you have. Try to kill me." The serious man replied. "I need an idea of what you can do to start." 

"A-Alright..." Sam said, as he set his cloak over a low tree branch. 

Darrel waited, sword ready. A rush went up Sam's spine. He looked down at his sword, and a feeling of excitement took him. He looked up again and lunged. His blade swung around, thudding against Darrel's. Without even thinking, Sam struck again. His sword whirled straight for the guard's neck. Thud. 

It was blocked again. He swung lower, aiming for the man's knee. Thud. Again it was met by Darrel's blade. 'Faster! I need to be faster!' The sword whipped through the air, whistling in the wind. Sam saw the sword come up to block and shifted his feet. His blade twisted, going right below the pommel of Darrel's sword, headed straight for the man's ribs. Thud. 'Wha...?' 

Darrel countered, striking at his legs. Sam leapt up to avoid the blade, knowing he wasn't quick enough to block. His sword came down at Darrel's head as he fell. Thud. He landed and jumped back, dodging away from the guard's next attack as it swung for his chest. Sam countered, stabbing straight at Darrel's chest. Thud. Clunk. 

'Huh? Where'd my sword go?' He wondered as he looked down at the cloth wrapped blade at his chest. 

"Not terrible." Darrel said, pulling his sword away and resting the tip on the ground. "You are observant, quick to adjust, and surprisingly attack minded. I can work with that." 

"What does that mean? Surprisingly attack minded?" Sam wondered. 

"I mean, I expected your style to be more on the conservative side. Your personality is more reserved, and most often that would reflect in the way a man fights. You came at me with a ferocity I did not expect." 

"...I see. So you thought I would fight more defensively, more reactionary." Sam replied. 'Yeah, I guess that would fit my personality more...' "Can you really tell that much just from a short exchange like that?" 

"You will understand soon that you can learn much about a person in how they move, how they fight." Darrel said as he retrieved Sam's sword from the ground and handed it to him. "Now, you have many issues in the way you fight as well. Your footwork is alright, but you have much wasted movement. That will tire you faster in an extended bout, as well as make your moves slower and easy to read. You also seem more hesitant to block and quick to try dodging, which can also tire you if you do it too often. 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 11



"That said you seem skilled for someone who has received no prior training. Likely due to few the fights you've been forced into by chance. However, your biggest issue is your weapon. The sword you're using, it's a sword that requires a lot of skill to use. It is not an ideal novice blade. It is meant for quick cuts or slashes, and it's decent for stabbing. To use it to it's full potential you need a high level of precision. In that way, it's like a slightly heavier rapier. You tend to make heavy hacking swipes, and while the blade has enough weight and is sharp enough to cut through flesh easily, most metal armor will block those kinds of attacks. 

"I see. So what you're saying is that I'll need to practice a lot with it." Sam said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. It seemed odd to him how much the normally quiet guard was talking. 

"Well, no. I was trying to suggest you trying to use a sword that's more tailored for beginners." Darrel replied. He let out a soft sigh, seeing the intense look in Sam's eyes. "Sure. If you really like that sword I suppose that would be fine as well." 

"Okay, let's spar again!" Sam said, feeling that thrill of anticipation once again. 

Four hours later, Sam was slumped against the thick roots of one of the enormous trees around the small clearing. His breaths came in wheezy gasps, each one sounding somehow more exhausted than the last. 'Get up, Sam. I need to spar more. More. Yes, I need to keep going! More practice. More time to use the sword...' He tried to stand, but only succeeded in shifting his booted feet in the sparse blades of grass. 

'Sam, you should just rest. You've already done enough for the week. You don't need to do that much in just a day.' Samson told him, a faint sense of worry coming from him. 

'But... But I was just starting to get better. I should keep going. The Anged'der want me, so I need to be ready. I don't want a recurrence of Eltinn, and I can't... can't let someone be hurt by my problems. I need to be able to control myself, and not rely on my magic so much. And... the sword, I need to hold it more, I-I have to.' 

'You've been sparring for three and a half hours straight! You can barely twitch a finger, and you're still wanting to keep going? If you keep this up you'll end up hurting yourself. Practice is good, but if you do too much at once you'll be unable to keep a proper regimen.' 

'No... I can keep going, I'll be fine.' Sam forced his head to lift, his legs to move. His whole body felt like it was going to buckle, like all of his muscle had been replaced by jelly. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet, wobbling unsteadily. He felt like he was trying to stand atop an exercise ball. 

Darrel watched him from across the brightly lit clearing, arms crossed, expression revealing nothing. Sam nearly fell forward as he bent to pick up his blade. It felt like it weighed a ton all of a sudden. He listed clumsily to the right, then stumbled left as he tried to compensate. Finally, he was forced to steady himself by resting forward against his sword. He leaned to the left and vomited, for the third time. 

Darrel sighed. "We're done for the day. You've already surpassed my expectation by quite a bit, so go rest." 

"...No. Need... need to go. Keep go...ing." He mumbled out between shaky wheezes. 

The sword captain looked to have been about to say something, but closed his mouth as Sam fell straight backward, unconscious. 

When Sam came to, he was in the carriage again. It was dark out the window, so it seemed he'd been out for at least 10 hours. He noticed his cloak was spread over him like a blanket, and someone had taken his boots off for him. Just at that moment, they carriage hit a bump it the road. The suspension absorbed most of it, but he was still jostled roughly. He hissed. His body felt like it was just a giant bruise. It was so sore. 

'Man, maybe Samson was right...' 

'You goddamn know I was right you big idiot! I tried to tell you, but you didn't want to listen. Now you'll be out of commission for the next few days, at least!' Samson said, then sighed. 'Well, hopefully you've learned your lesson after that.' 

'Funny, now that you're a god. That phrase has a whole new meaning for you.' 

'Ha-ha very clever. Well, maybe from now on you'll listen to your new god more often.' 

'Maybe. I don't know, it's not like you've been alive for centuries like the other supposed "gods". Perhaps after you've matured a bit.' Sam replied with a grin. 

'You're telling me to mature? You, who only had his first kiss a day ago?' 

Sam chuckled aloud, his body cursed him for it. Only then did he realize that Dettella was awake, and looking at him. His cheeks felt hot suddenly, and his arm would have been rubbing the back of his head had it not been too sore to move. 

"I, er... I was just thinking about how crazy everything has been for me lately." He tried to explain. 

"It has been quite 'crazy', as you say, for me as well. Only a week ago I'd been preparing to take the throne, and now I'm here, forced to flee my country." Dettella said, turning to look out the window at the dark, silhouetted trees lining the road. 

"Wait, you were meant to be queen? What happened?" Sam frowned in confusion. 'Don't they just have the usual 'eldest child ascends' system?' 

"Well, I cannot say for certain, but I have a theory. What I believe is that my sister, Tenall, used a rare crystal called 'fluerenn' to steal another mage's magic, and that's how she became queen. As I mentioned earlier, my sister is quite twisted, and seemingly wants me dead or captured." She sighed. "I feel bad about leaving my brother behind with her, I should have had him come with me. At the time, I thought having a connection I could trust in Crestell would be good, but now I'm thinking that it was a mistake. I have a bad feeling that she will take her frustrations out on him." 

Sam shuddered. If this sister was as bad as the princess made her sound, he felt bad for the brother having to be around her. He could sympathize with his situation. "Um, there's something I don't understand." 

"Yes?" 

"How did your sister stealing magic change the succession? Is the system not based on the eldest child?" 

"Ah, no it's based on who among the children has the highest magical rating. In the south I've heard there is a small country that goes by that system, but it is not very commonly used in this realm. Is that the system they use in your country, Oregon?" Dettella replied. 

"Ah, no it's just what most of the countries around mine did. My country isn't even a monarchy." Sam said, wondering if he was giving to much information. 

The princess got that twinkle in her eye that she seemed to get whenever she was curious about something. It quickly vanished however, and was replaced by the look of worry she'd had a moment before. "I see. Well, anyway, the fluerenn crystals is just the first thing that came to mind. I don't know for certain whether she used such a method, but I believe she would have had to, to gain such an incredible increase. You see, when we were young, we accidentally saw each other's magic. It happened just after Tenall had her magic released." 

"Wait, what do you mean she had her magic 'released'? Does it have to be activated somehow?" 

"Yes, of course it does." She laughed, apparently thinking it a joke. When Sam didn't laugh with her she frowned. "You mean you didn't know?" 

"Ah-uh, no, um, I... Yeah... I don't really know." Sam answered, feeling a little self-conscious all of a sudden. 

"Well, the way it works is, when you're born your magic is closed off. It's still there, it's just blocked from access. So, to access it, you would use a 'release page'. I've heard you can activate it without the use of a release page, but it requires years of time spent meditating. But, since release pages have become so accessible it's very uncommon to hear about that method." 

"Release page? What are they like?" He asked, recalling the portal page that brought him to this world. 

"Well, they're made using severing magic. It's somewhat like looking down a hallway. The process is very painful, I remember it clearly, even though it was almost 20 years ago when I had my magic released, I was only five at the time. It felt like having something ripped out of me, something intangible." 

"I-I see..." That sounded exactly like what he'd felt just before being transported by the portal page. "And these release pages, you said they're easily accessible?" 

"Oh yes. They're everywhere now, even the most remote towns have at least one of them. They're supposedly quite easy to make, and require very little power. In that manner, they are unlike portal pages, which are similar in appearance. Crestell only has one portal page, and it's hidden among the old artifacts in the treasury." 

"Interesting." Sam said. 'A portal page in Crestell. If I were to get back to my world, I would definitely need to get one of those... But since it only works with a person on the reverse side, would it even be possible? I don't even know if I would want to go back...' 

"Portal page..." Dettella muttered. She glanced up at Sam, with something akin to realization in her eyes. Her expression became thoughtful, her hand coming to her chin. Then, she shook her head, apparently dismissing the idea. 

'Should I just tell her? I trust her, don't I?' He glanced at Giela who was sleeping next to Dettella. 'Maybe later. Now isn't the best time. I should probably change the subject...' 

"Oh, I heard that it was you who had made the soup this morning. Was that true?" The princess said, changing it for him. 

"Ah, yeah that was me." Sam replied. 

"Really? It was delicious. The use of spice to accent the tates was wonderful. Do you have some sort of formal training in cooking?" She asked. 

He felt his blush creep up once again. "Oh, er... No, my dad just taught me how to cook a few things. It was always something he enjoyed..." He recalled sitting atop the tall blue stool next to his father, watching him cook. Sam smiled wistfully. 'I miss you dad... Even though everything is your fault. You told me those words, and I trusted you. I believed in you, and you betray me? You deserved to die, I just wish you'd suffered more. I hate you... No, no what am I saying? I loved you dad, don't listen to what he's saying. I still love you... But it is true that it's your fault. All my pain, everything Britney and Madeline did...' 

He laughed softly, clutching his head. It seemed as if all his soreness had disappeared, all he felt was a burning anger in his heart. 'No, I'm wrong. It's Britney's fault. If it weren't for her, dad wouldn't have died. Britney killed him. Everything she ever did was to make me suffer, so it's only logical that she would have killed him. With him around, she couldn't get to me. He was an obstacle in her mind, just a stupid man who wouldn't let her have her fun. Then she made her daughter do it too, made her molest me. She must have had it planned all along...' 

His laughter became shrill. 'Sam? What's wrong with you, why are you acting like that?' Samson asked, coming forward. 

"It's her fault, it's all her fault. She killed dad, murdered him in cold blood. Her fault her fault her fault her fault..." Sam's mind whirled. He had to escape, he had to get away from her grasp. If only he could force his way out of her reach, he could live his own life. No more pain, no more suffering. He could be free. Free to live happily like he used to, with his father. With his magic, he could find a way to reach the place where dead people go. He could bring back his father, then Britney wouldn't be able to torment him... 

'Ah, that's it! That's it, that's it! I know now!' He thought. 'I'll just kill her!' He laughed cheerfully. 'Why didn't I think of this before! I'll just torture her. Make her suffer like I did! I'll flay her slowly, make it last a while. Oh man, her screams will be delightful. Oh oh! I know, I'll kill Madeline first! Right in front of her! Oh this is wonderful!' 

"Samson. Samson!" 

He felt someone shaking his shoulders. 'Why are you shaking me. I'm trying to come up with a plan. I must decide which torture methods to test first. Please stop distracting me.' 

"Samson, what is wrong? Please tell me. I can help, I will fix it." 

'I'm busy, please come back later. I need to think about this. Ah, I can just heal her with magic to make it last longer! Oh how perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect. So wonderful, so great.' He laughed again. 

Something pressed against his lips. It was soft. So soft... He smelled... He smelled paper... paper and jasmine... He saw green. Brilliant green. Through his blurred vision, he could see an exquisite verdant green. Blinking away his tears, he focused on that green. It pulled him out of the pit of negative emotions that he'd begun falling into. 

His thoughts became more coherent, and he realized the princess was kissing him. It was the third time this had happened, yet it was still just as shocking. 'Why?' He wondered. 'Why would someone so beautiful, so amazing... Why would someone like that go for me? She could have any man she wanted, yet she likes me? Me, pathetically weak man. A man who is half out of his mind, perhaps worse. It just makes no sense. Is it pity?' 

The tears of anger, confusion, and grief continued to fall as he let himself be drawn into the kiss. 'I don't understand it, but I will savor it nonetheless.' Both of their eyes closed as they relished the contact. Samson's presence seemed to fade back again, apparently feeling like an intruder. Finally, he broke away from the embrace. Half due to a need to breathe, half because he wanted to tell her something. 

Sam's body continued to tremble as he took her hands in his. "Thank you. I-I..." He paused, not sure if he could continue. "I don't... I don't know if I would still be even a little bit sane right now if it weren't for you. I probably would have killed myself or been killed by now, or just lost my mind completely... So, for that I'm very grateful. In return, when we get a chance I want to talk to you about some things when we're alone. It, It's not really a fair trade I suppose, but I guess it's the best I can do at the moment." 

Dettella made eye contact with him, her expression solemn. "Alright. And, Samson, you shouldn't feel as if you need to repay me for this. I do it because I want to. It is not a burden, and you shouldn't think of yourself as a problem for me. I was serious when I said that I am attracted to you, and I would not hesitate to help you in any way I can." 

"I-I appreciate that. It means a lot to me." His mouth involuntarily turned in a slight smile. "By the way, you kiss really well. It's feels really nice when you're pressed up against me. It's like, it's like I can almost feel your emotions. Not that I'm an expert or anything, you're the only woman I've ever kissed." 

She blushed bright pink. "D-Don't say that so loudly!" Despite her words, her lips formed a smile. "Well, that's still good to hear... I was a little worried that my own inexperience would show itself." 

"You know, you're six years older than me." Sam replied, a teasing grin making it's way onto his face. "Some might consider that scandalous, you know." 

Her face turned almost red. "W-Well... M-My mother was 246 and still courting men who were less than a quarter her age before she died. S-So, for a princess this is nothing." Dettella said, her back straightening as she spoke. 

Sam's jaw dropped. "Wha... Holy crap. Your mom must have had major game." He chuckled. He was realizing that he was able to feel more comfortable around Dettella than he had around anyone, at least since his father died. He was also noticing that it was fun to tease the princess a little. At times it felt like she was so dignified and noble that she was out of reach, but seeing her blush and get flustered like that seemed to bring her down to earth a little. Make her feel more human to him. 

Dettella's blush faded slightly, and she relaxed back into the comfortable seat of the carriage. "Well, you might not know this yet, but I have 212 brothers and sisters." 

Sam's jaw dropped again. "How?! How could your mother even manage that?!" 

The princess shrugged. "It's how most of Crestell's queens are. They work hard to find a suitable successor. It is preferred that the queen survive for a long time, so they seek to produce high level magic in a child. It helps to keep a level of stability in the country. Sometimes a queen will stop after only a few children, but it is rare and considered by most as irresponsible." 

"So you would have had that many children too if you'd become queen?" He asked, still baffled by the amounts of pain the queen must have gone through. It sounded impossible. 

"I don't know. I never really thought about it. Though I probably would have." Dettella's expression became thoughtful. "My mother once told me that it gets easier after a while, but I don't know if I could manage the feats she did. She was quite a strong woman, and she did care about the country and worked hard for it's sake. Even if I don't agree with everything she believed in, I still respected her quite a lot." 

Sam nodded. "You should probably get some sleep, you look a bit tired." He said, noticing her drooping eyes. 

She gave him a soft smile. "Yes, I suppose you're right. We should both get some more sleep before we arrive at Geylin tomorrow. I have a feeling we might need the energy." 

He nodded again, feeling his body's fatigue calling for him to rest. They both closed their eyes, and surrendered to sleep. For the first time since Eltinn, Sam dreamt. 

Pain. So much pain. His whole body screamed in pain. Not just his body, his mind, his heart. It all hurt. 

'Why does it hurt so much?' He wondered, surprisingly calm. 'My neck, my hand. Why do they hurt?' 

Somehow, he knew he had to do something. What it was however, he knew not. 

'The ring? That must be it, right?' He thought. 'No, that's not all.' 

'The queen of black, the queen of white. They will leave with you only pain, queenkiller. O Hanged Man, bringer of peril and liberty. The twelfth of the prophesied, your fate is one of many tragedies.' A voice boomed. 

'What do you mean?' He replied softly. 'Can I change my fate?' 

'I pity you, traveler. For your end is sealed, but perhaps you may break the chains of destiny, and change the journey. There may be moments for you to redirect your path, but ultimately, it will always lead back to the main road.' The voice replied after a moment. 

'I see.' He said. 'But, who are you? Why are you telling me this?' 

'I am but a humble messenger, that is all. I tell you because I must. I am a messenger.' The voice answered. 'Hanged Man, remember your name. Remember your fate, and perhaps you may twist it. Now I must say farewell to you, O Hanged Man. For I must follow my duty, and deliver the messages.' 

'Goodbye.' The Hanged Man said in a whisper, and the messenger was gone. As the dream faded away, he muttered, 'So much pain...' 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 11. Thank you all for reading! If you have time, please leave a comment! I love reading them and I always look forward to seeing what you guys think! 

P.S. I wanted to say that I did read all of the comments on the last chapter, but I didn't respond to very many of them like I usually do. I feel like I clutter up the comments, but I'll probably start responding again anyway, haha. I also wanted to thank those of you who left a suggestion or criticism last chapter! They were very insightful, and gave me a perspective different from my own. There are many things that, as the writer, I cannot see. So, it's always good to hear more viewpoints like that! It made me see a few of the issues, and when I eventually get around to re-editing that chapter I'll be sure to fix them.



Bound in Spirals Ch. 12



Hey dudes, Ed was unfortunately too busy to edit for me this time, so I had to do it myself like I used to. As such, you might see some more errors than usual. Enjoy! 

————— 

Sam woke with a start. "Wha? What was that?" He muttered, rubbing his forehead. 

'Was that just a dream...?' He wondered. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the fog from his mind. 'No, that was more than just a dream. It felt far too vivid. I can remember every word, every sensation clearly. It was something real for sure.' He took a deep breath. 'The messenger. They called me the Hanged Man. I know I've heard that somewhere before, but when was it? And... queenkiller. That sounds ominous. Well, I suppose both of them do...' 

He leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hands. It didn't register at the time, but he was surprisingly limber compared to the soreness of a couple hours before. 'All that stuff he said, it's kinda unbelievable. I shouldn't really take it too seriously right...?' His eyes stared sightlessly at his feet. '...It's as if I can't not believe it somehow. My fate. What does all this mean?' 

Sam leaned back, taking a slow breath. Dettella was still asleep across from him, but the handmaiden, Giela, was no longer in the carriage. Theodore snored softly beside him. He'd been looking considerably less pale since the young elf worked on him, but his cheeks were still sunken and his eyes were ringed with a muted purple. Looking out the window, he realized it was still quite dark out. Apparently, he hadn't slept for very long. 

'I need to clear my head a bit.' He thought and pulled his cloak over his shoulders as he pushed open the door. In the back of his mind, he felt Samson stirring, but he didn't approach, seemingly sensing that Sam wanted to be alone. 

As he stepped out into the cool air of night, he saw a similar campfire to the night before. This time, Giela was sat next to a disgruntled looking Fenella. The captive elves glanced back at the huge furry form that circled the perimeter of the clearing several times as Sam watched. Letta's glossy black eyes reflected the flickering flame as she glanced at him. Apparently sensing the same thing Samson had, she didn't speak to him. 

Darrel was leaned against a tree with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Sam wondered if he was sleeping. As far as he knew, the guard didn't sleep at all, but perhaps he'd caught him at one of the few moments he did. One eye flicked open as Sam walked past. 'Guess not.' As he left the dancing circle of light, he heard some of the elves starting to argue softly. He was curious about what they were arguing about, but not enough to stay and find out. 

'I'll just take a short walk.' The forest was so black that his eyes couldn't adjust to it no matter how he strained. It felt... well, dark. In order to be able to find his way back, he began leaving small binds to the crusty bark of the trees as he walked. As he did so, he tried to control the amount of magic in his body. 

It was difficult at first, especially with the demented happiness nagging at his mind, but after a little while he was able to keep the light of his forms at a soft glow. 'I need to practice this sort of thing more often. If I can't control my own magic I'll just keep having those episodes of lunacy.' 

'I can't let myself do that. I'll end up hurting someone. Like what already happened with Vielchena...' He shook his head. 'I think I really messed up her mind somehow. Was it that bad? Dettella still hasn't really elaborated on what happened. I probably scarred her permanently. All because I couldn't control myself. I don't know what's worse, that I did it in the first place, or that I don't really feel guilty about it anymore. To be fair, she did attack us...' 

Sam watched his booted feet scuff softly along the needle-ridden ground as he walked. His left hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword. 'What am I gonna do...' He found himself at the roots to the most immense tree he'd ever seen. Which was saying something, considering the smallest trees in the forest was at least as big around as a hot tub. 

"Ho-ly shiiit..." He whispered as he tracked the tree from the base upward. There wasn't a top. Or rather, he couldn't see the top of it. It grew steadily darker the further up he looked until it just looked like a starless sky. Logically, what he was about to do was absurd, but next to that tree that defied all of that, absurdity and logic didn't really mean much. With that idea in mind, he began to crawl up the roots towards the bottom of the trunk. 

'Now, this would be an ideal place for an elven city.' He thought as he pressed his hand to the tree's thick bark. He bound his hand to the tree. Then, his left foot, right foot, left hand, and he began to ascend. At first it was slow going as he had to consciously had to release and reattach each bind as he went, but after a time he began to do it almost automatically. 

It became a subconscious thing, his climbing. He didn't think, didn't even respond when Samson asked him what he was doing. It was as if he fell into a trance where all he knew how to do was climb, so he that is what he did. He didn't even take breaks to regain his strength, he didn't even register the exhaustion. Not until he reached the first branch, that is. 

"Hah... Hah... Whoa! Hah... How did I get up here so quick?!" Sam said, each breath he took burned his lungs. He didn't have the strength to sit up from his prone position on the broad branch. The spongey, black moss depressed beneath his weight, offering surprisingly good comfort. "Man... I'm tired..." 

Drowsiness seemed to sweep his feet from under him, overtaking even the exhaustion of the climb. He was asleep in seconds. 

Sam woke a few seconds later and sat up. The black moss was squishy in that fun to touch sort of way. Glowing purple plants crept along the wide branch, illuminating the doorway into the tree. The opening was lying horizontally on the branch, which he thought was odd, but walked into it just the same. Gravity shifted as he stepped into the doorway. It led to a grand hall made entirely of wood. More vine-like plants of white lit the room. 

The multicolored swirling grain was beautiful, and the intricate carvings only added to that. Distantly, Sam felt the hall's existence was illogical. How could a room so huge fit into the much smaller branch, no matter how big it was relative to the average tree branch. That thought quickly sank into the 'low priority' section of his brain as he gazed around at the carvings. 'Amazing.' He thought. 

The entire left wall depicted a desolate wasteland, where only a single man stood with his back to Sam. His dark brown hair fell in disheveled tangles, and his thick beard was unkempt. Small, square shaped scars ringed his neck, their pale color standing out on his tanned skin. More scars lined his bare back, they looked like those gained from a lashing. A white crow sat perched on the man's right shoulder, it's black beak opened in a screech, blue eye looking intently toward Sam. 

The man wore only a pair of blue pants, black boots and a single black leather glove on his right hand. A navy colored coat, a plain white T-shirt, and the matching glove were in a crumpled pile at his feet. Sam just stared at the figure of the man for a minute. Everything about the carving seemed so real, it was as if the man would start moving any second now. Even the sickly yellowish dirt beneath his boots seemed so detailed, almost as if Sam could just go over and scoop some up. 

Clearly whoever had carved this piece was a genius. No stone left unturned in the work. If there hadn't been the subtle lines of wood grain, it would have easily been mistaken for real. He was reluctant, but finally he turned away from the carving. His gaze strayed toward the carving on the right wall, but his eyes did not reach it. 

Standing straight ahead was a young girl. 'When...?' He thought. The girl just looked calmly at him with caramel brown eyes that gleamed with an intelligence far beyond her appearance. 

"You're not a girl," He said. 

"Excuse me?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"I mean, like, you're not a child." Sam corrected. 

She just looked at him silently for a moment, her red hair shimmering as she tilted her head. "A strange greeting, but yes, you are correct. I am older than I appear." 

"Who are you?" He asked. Somewhere in his mind he was surprised at his frankness. 

"I am the tree." 

"I don't understand." 

"Hm. I do not know how to explain." Her head tilted left and she got a quizzical look on her face. "I am... the spirit of the tree? The soul? I suppose that would be the closest description though it still is not exactly right. I am only a small part of the tree. A part that lives at a fast pace." 

"...I still don't get it." Sam replied, looking at the girl blankly. "Whatever. Doesn't really matter much. Did you make these carvings?" 

"In a way, yes." The tree answered. 

"What does that mean?" 

"I did not create them on my own. I only did the carving. I saw the images in a 'vision' of sorts." 

"I see..." Sam said, frowning slightly. "If you're the tree, then why would you carve into yourself?" 

"Tattoos." The tree replied, smiling faintly. "It is the same concept." 

"Hm... That makes sense." Sam muttered, still frowning. "Who is the man, do you know?" 

The girl hesitated, looking at him. "No, I don't really know. When I carve, I go into a trance-like state. I am not sure of many details of any of my carvings, they sort of just... happen. The names of the pieces themselves are at the bottom. I'm not certain what they mean either." 

Sam glanced over to the bottom of the carving. The name was Horizon. 'I see. It's because he's looking to the horizon perhaps?' Then, he looked to the right side of the room and let out a soft gasp. The carving was as stunning in quality as the one on the right, despite the completely different image. 

It was focused on a young girl, around 10, he thought. She had dazzling icy blue eyes and golden blonde hair. Her face was clean, and her expression was full of excitement and curiosity. She wore a small red coat, and on her back she carried a matching satchel of dyed red leather. Below, she wore brown traveling pants with small black boots. Everything about her appeared clean and unused. As if she was just leaving on a journey. 

Adding to that effect, far behind her stood a family waving after her. They were too far to really make out their faces, but they all appeared to have blonde hair. The apparent father leaned on a cane, and the mother had a hand on his shoulder. Three other children stood about them, one was clearly several years older than the other two, who appeared to be younger than five. They stood in front of a small building of two stories made of a combination of wood and brick. A sign was placed on the building, but it was unreadable from the acute angle. 

The image was shown with the girl mid-stride, walking on a cobbled road. Other buildings surrounded the road. They were somewhat similar in appearance to the one the family stood before in that they were all well kept, well made, and mostly of polished wood rather than painted. It seemed quite a cheerful sight in comparison to the bleak setting of the other carving. Just below it, Daughter was scrawled. 

"Do these have any sort of meaning to them?" Sam asked. 

"Mm. Perhaps, but if they do, I do not know the meaning." She replied, looking thoughtful. "My people call me an oracle though I find it to be a misnomer. What I carve is only a possibility among many. Only a few of them ever happen." 

"Are you saying that these are possibilities for my future or others?" 

"They could be. I have no idea. Would you like to look at more of my carvings?" 

"Um, I think I should probably be getting back. My companions are probably wondering where I've gotten off to. Maybe I can return after I've made sure my friend is healed." Sam said, though feeling quite tempted to take her up on her offer. 

"Mm..." The tree looked up, tilting her head as if listening for something. "No, I suspect that won't be the right time. We will find each other again, though, young man. I hope that when we next meet that you will stay a little longer. However, before you go I must give you something. Please wait here." With that, the girl's body walked out of the room. 

Sam waited, looking at each of the carvings again to burn them into his mind. He did not question her words, deep within him the belief that he would come to this odd tree once again grew. 'This is all so strange.' He thought. 'I should be incredulous, yet I am not. It's as if my emotions are being subdued somehow.' 

A short time later, the girl of the tree returned. "Here is my first gift," She said, holding out her hand. In it, was a tiny seed. It was shaped like a sunflower seed, but it was colored a lustrous greenish-gold. "That is a seed of knowledge. As its name implies, when planted, it grows knowledge." 

"Where should I plant it?" Sam asked, gently taking the seed from her small hand. 

"In your mind." The tree replied. 

"Do you mean that metaphorically?" 

The tree laughed, with a sound like tinkling chimes. "No, press it to your forehead." 

Sam did as she bid. As soon as the seed touched his forehead, it sunk in. A subtle feeling of pressure ensued. Then a final quick, sharp pain and it was done. "What did that do?" He questioned, rubbing his forehead with a slight frown. 

"Over time, it will grant you knowledge of all languages. It is an intelligent plant, and will grow the ones you need most first. I imagine this will make your road a little easier. Earth knows it will be hard enough for you as it is, traveler." She replied. 

'Traveler. The messenger also called me that.' 

"And here is the second gift." She held out her other hand. A necklace rested in her palm, it's thin cord coiled up. 

He took it, inspecting it. The cord seemed to be made of some sort of plant fiber, and the polished wood pendant was a deep cherry red. It had a weighty feel to it. Not a physical weight, it was actually very light, but it was almost as if it had a weight of power. On one side of it was carved in perfect lines, the letters XII. 'Twelve.' He thought. 'The twelfth of the prophesied, the messenger told me.' 

On the opposite side was a carving of a tree. A bulbously based trunk with thick roots searching out from it. The bulbous base grew into a thinner upper trunk, then fanned out into a massive canopy of huge branches and broad leaves. It looked like the one he was in at that very moment, which he supposed made a little sense. 

"What does this do?" 

"A few things, but mostly it is so you may find my roots again. A gift rarely given." The tree replied. "Put it on. It will hurt a little for a moment, but it is quick." 

"Like with the seed?" He asked, unfurling the cord and pulling it over his head. 

"Not quite." 

Not quite was quite an understatement. The pendant passed through his shirt as it fell against his chest as if it were incorporeal. A sudden excruciating pain shot through him. It felt like thorny roots were growing throughout his body, digging into him like a bunch of carnivorous worms. He wanted to scream, but all that came out was a soft rasp. Then it was over, and the pain slowly faded, leaving only a dull throbbing behind. 

"Ouch," He whispered, holding his hand over where the pendant should have been. It was no longer there. He pulled down his shirt's collar, trying to find it. Instead, he found that the carving had transferred into his skin. Just below his collar bone the tree sat, just under that was XII. The lines were written into him with the pendant's dark cherry color, making it stand out obviously on his skin. "How am I supposed to reply when people ask what this is?" 

"Do not fret, only parts connected to the tree will be able to see it." 

"Alright. Well, I'll be off then, I suppose. Er, good luck with your carvings and whatnot." Sam said, turning and striding back out the door just like that. Part of him, a big part of him, wanted to stay longer, but something compelled him to leave right then. 

"Ah, one last thing." The tree said, bounding toward him on bare feet as he stopped at the exit. 

"Yes?" Sam asked. She gestured for him to lean down like she wanted to whisper in his ear. She pecked his cheek with a kiss, making him jump slightly despite the seemingly dampened emotions he'd been feeling. "Wh-What?" He stuttered as a flush of vitality seemed to emanate throughout his body. 

"To keep you alert for the trials ahead." She explained, then gently guided him out the door. He was holding his hand against his tingling cheek. It felt like the pins and needles feeling he occasionally got in his feet. "Farewell, traveler." 

Sam stumbled out, then fell into the soft embrace of the black moss. 

When he woke, it was to the sound of Samson shouting into his mind, something about a tree. 

'What are you freaking out about now?' Sam asked, rubbing his eyes. He felt surprisingly alert for having just woken up. 

'You...! The tree! Blight you! The tree!' Samson responded, sounding incredulous. Sam imagined that if he'd still had a body that he would be waving his arms around and gesticulating in an exaggerated manner. 'How could you forget it already?!' 

Sam felt alert and energized, but something seemed off. Like there was something huge missing. He looked around, ignoring Samson's mental shouting. He found that he had somehow nodded off while sitting on a cluster of roots that were unsurprisingly not comfortable at all. After pushing himself up, Sam shook out his cloak and started following the binds he'd left back to the carriage. 

'Wait, you really don't remember?' Samson asked. 

'No, I have no idea what you're talking about.' Sam replied, releasing each bind as he walked past. 

'Alright, well you better brace yourself against something.' 

'Why? What are...?' Sam tripped over his own feet as the sudden nausea pounded his head. "Uh-Uuugh..." 

He just laid there with his face in the needle covered earth, unable to think, let alone move with the world spinning as it was. When he finally started to recover, he understood why Samson had been flipping out. 'Ah, now I remember.' 

'What the fuck was that place?!' Samson exclaimed. 

'How the hell should I know. This is your world, remember?' Sam answered. 'Was that some sort of "Tree of Life" or something?' 

'Probably. I've never even heard of it, though. Oh, your memory got erased. That's probably the reason no one knows about it.' Samson said. 'For some reason I couldn't contact you, despite being right next to you. You were acting really odd in there too, it was like you were half asleep.' 

'Really weird. Even for this world of fantasy, it was bizarre.' Sam said. 'Those carvings were beautiful, though. She, uh, the tree is really talented.' 

'Yeah, sure. Do you think the seed really does what she said it does? Ah! That pendant! Check your chest!' 

Sam stopped and pulled down his shirt. Sure enough, the tree mark and the roman numerals were still there, though they were difficult to see in the faint light of dawn. 'Well, if I didn't believe before, I do now.' 

He started walking again as Samson spoke. 'I really don't know what to make of this experience. It seems significant somehow, but it feels like a lot of effort just to give you a little seed and a mark on your chest.' 

'Maybe you can ask that Rentell dude when you meet him again.' Sam replied. 

'Yeah, maybe. I'm still not certain I trust him quite yet, however. I only spoke with him for a short time. He didn't tell me who his "saint" was even though he knows who you are.' 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 12



'Mhm... Well, I'll leave that up to you.' Sam said. He heard voices up ahead. 'I'm going to need to focus on getting Theodore the help he needs, so you can do the thinking that I don't have time for.' 

'Very well.' He felt Samson retreat as he stepped into the clearing. 

Dettella was the first to notice him returning. "Oh! Samson, where have you been? You shouldn't just go disappearing like that. You had us worried." She said, rising from the small stool that had been set out for her. Behind her, Darrel shook his head. 

"Ah, well I... Um, well I just needed some time to think," Sam said, feeling bad for worrying her. "I didn't mean to be gone for as long as I was... I sorta just got lost in my own thoughts I guess." 

"Alright, as long as you're fine I suppose it doesn't matter." The princess said. "While you've been away Giela tried talking to the captives, but none has been responsive. I don't think we can count on them testifying for the legitimacy of our claims." Giela looked away, ashamed. Though Sam didn't understand why she would've felt responsible. 

Fenella pursed her lips. "I offered to make them more... amenable, but the princess refused. Apparently it's 'inhumane' or some other high and mighty widdel shite." She said in an annoyed tone. 

"I told you, we will not threaten them with poison. It does not matter whether you have the antidote or not." Dettella replied. Her words were calm, yet they seemed to emanate a subtle hostility. 

'Whoa, what the hell happened between them? What's going on?' Sam wondered, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. 'What's this talk about poison?' 

"The naivety of the nobility these days..." The healer muttered, shaking her head. 

"The naiveté of the nobility does not change the fact that using threats will only make our situation worse. We need them to corroborate our story, and using that method will only make them less likely to help." Dettella countered. "I am aware of the uses of fear tactics, but now is not the time for them." 

Fenella scowled at her. "As it stands, they will only get us imprisoned or killed if we try to have them explain what happened!" 

The two continued debating the point, but Sam had stopped listening. 'It doesn't really matter. Theodore will get healed. One way or another.' He turned toward Darrel and quietly asked, "Can we go train?" 

The guard nodded, and the two slipped away... 

——— 

Hennel woke with a whimper. His breathing was ragged and made a raspy whistling sound in his chest. Fiernil had given him an herbal mixture to help him sleep the night before, and it had certainly helped him stay asleep. What it didn't help were the nightmares. They repeated endlessly, trapping him in a cycle of terror. He had no idea where they had sprouted from, but he found that the more he had them, the more he feared them. And the more he feared them, the more real they felt. 

"M-Master Hennel! Are you alright?" The elven doctor had been wiping him off and replacing his sheets when he woke. 

"Nhhah..." He tried to say no, but it came out as a wheeze instead. Tears filled his eyes, and he resisted a sob. With every second that passed, Hennel's resistance became weaker. The pain was so excruciating. It wore down his spirit like a constant rain, beating against his will, eroding it little by little. He tried to say 'kill me', but it caught in his throat. 

The small elven man began to cry. "I-I, I am so, so-sorry my prince... It is all... it is all my fault..." He said between sobs. "I could've... I should have worked harder... I-It's my fault you suffer such pain." Hennel watched as the elf's knees buckled. Fiernil's shoulders quivered, and his head fell forward. "I-I deserve punish, punishment..." 

'Yes,' Hennel thought, 'Yes, kill yourself. But kill me first. Take me with you. Please... Just... Just put me out of my misery...' 

"No..." Fiernil muttered, still weeping. "No, not yet." He looked up. "Prince Hennel, I-I will find a way to fix this. I will find something, I swear on... I swear on my mother's heart of crystal and flesh!" The short man stood, a look of determination taking over the despair on his dainty face. "I will be back soon. I need to find a halfling merchant!" 

With that, the elf scampered out of the room, his short red cloak flapping behind him. 'Why...? Just kill me. You can't save me, just kill me...' Hennel's tears began falling again. His throat hurt from holding back his sobs. 'Dettella... Sister, I-I can't do this...' He thought, feeling utter misery settle over him. It was as if the pain was all he could think of. Past, present, and future. Everywhere he looked, pain surrounded him like a group of clamoring hands, all seeking to caress him and torment him... 

When Fiernil returned, Hennel had finally just managed to roll onto his side. He could almost reach the scalpels on the tray, just a little further... The elf pushed the tray away to make room, not noticing Hennel's slowly moving arm. The hopeful prince felt the last thin wall of his will crumble and be pulled away to flow down the rapids of endless pain. He finally released the sob he'd been holding in. 

"P-Prince, I have an idea. I will give you some, er... pain relieving herbal extract. It will help to keep you feeling... better..." The elf looked a bit nervous for a moment but shook his head. "W-Well, you'll only need it until I find an antidote for the poison in you. For a time, I'd been losing m-my confidence, but I reminded myself that I am the royal doctor for a reason! Prince Hennel, I will find a cure for this poison, I promise you that on my mother's heart of crystal and flesh!" 

Hennel managed a slight nod, and the elf began scrambling around the small room. 'I have never heard him use that phrase before, and now he uses it twice in a day. I wonder if he just made it up, or if it's supposed to be significant somehow...' He wondered, watching the elf clear a space on the desk. Then the small man began ruffling through his canvas duffel bag. He came out with a small vial. 

'Ah, I see.' Hennel thought, seeing the contents in the vial. Unlike the Reyall princesses, the princes were allowed outside the palace after their fifth year. As such, Hennel was considerably more worldly than his sheltered sisters. So, when he saw that vial, he recognized the drug instantly. The crystalline flecks of silvery green glittered as Fiernil turned the glass to look at it. 'Wellid crystals, "green platinum".' 

Hennel had acquainted himself with the most popular drugs, and though he had never taken to any himself, he knew what most of the positive and negative effects they had. It seemed that Fiernil knew a bit of them himself if he knew to choose wellid crystals. The crystals were made from an extract of the wellid plant which was known to grow wild across most of the northern region. The plant itself had many uses, but the crystals were the most common product of it. 

'Good for pain relief and certain varieties are used for sleep aid. The effects have a long duration.' Hennel remembered. 'May cause hallucination if used in large quantity.' 

"This will help your pain, milord." Fiernil set the vial down on the desk and ruffled around in his bag some more. A moment later, he pulled out an odd looking pipe. It appeared to have been custom made for a person who could not sit straight, ideal for Hennel's situation. "It's been a while since I had to bring this out." 

The well polished, carefully carved eddenwood pipe shone under the dim light of dawn. The elf popped the cork out of the vial and tapped out a few of the green crystals into the chamber. He brought out a halfling lighter and pressed the button, waited for the tip to become red-hot, then pressed it into the chamber. A faint green smoke began drifting up from the pipe, and a soft crinkling sound, like crumpled parchment, started coming from the wellid crystals as they burned. 

"Can you hold it?" Fiernil asked, holding it out to Hennel. 

Trying to nod, he reached up for the pipe. He held it gently in his shaking hands and pulled the chamber lower as to see into it. Inside, the shards of crystal glowed softly, like burning incense. The aroma wafting from the pipe was slightly sweet, slightly acrid. Hennel lifted it and let the curved stem into his mouth. He sucked tentatively, and when the smoke entered his lungs he nearly coughed but managed to hold it in. He breathed out. Then hesitantly took another breath of the smoke. 

He fell into a slow rhythm of sucking in and breathing out the corner of his mouth. After what felt like a short time, the pain in his stomach began to fade slightly. A feeling of such excitement rushed through him that he nearly laughed aloud with glee. As he breathed in and puffed out, the pain only decreased, until it felt only like a normal stab wound. This time, he could not hold back the laugh, nor the tears in his eyes. Though unlike the majority of his tears of recent, these were tears of joy. 

Fiernil looked over his shoulder at him, and seeing Hennel's almost childlike smile of happiness, began to smile with him. "Is it helping?" He asked. 

"Yes." He managed to reply with little strain. 

"Alright, then I suppose now is a good time to do the withdrawal." The elf gently took a glass syringe from the desk and screwed in a needle. Gesturing to the needle, Fiernil said, "Only the halflings can make something so delicate and precise. Others have attempted, but needles are far too difficult to forge correctly. These are very expensive, but you cannot put a price on the safety of the patient. My granfa taught me that." 

"I can... I can have you reimbursed." Hennel said. 

"Nonsense." He waved off the prince's words, then gently rubbed a small circle on his stomach scar with a cloth dipped in alcohol. "Master Hennel, I did not pay for it myself. I have a budget for such things from the queen. The late queen, your mother, set aside generous amounts for the use of the palace medical staff. Now hold still." 

Hennel held his breath as the elf pressed the needle into his stomach wound. He didn't even feel it. Whether that was due to the wellid or the fact that the pain in his stomach was at such a peak that it was insignificant, he did not know. Fiernil slowly pulled the steel plunger back. A blackish purple fluid filled the glass. When it was full, he extracted the needle, wiped off Hennel's stomach, and carefully carried it over to the desk. He began fiddling with more glass vials, injecting small amounts of the dark liquid through the rubber seals into each one. 

Hennel began to lose track of time as he laid there, listening to the doctor work, continuing to inhale the wellid smoke at a carefully measured pace. 

——— 

Dettella frowned at the sweaty form of Sam as he returned, followed by Darrel. She'd been so occupied with the healer and trying to remember what she knew of the elven queen that she hadn't even noticed them leave. He flashed a sheepish smile at her between deep breaths. 'At least he didn't fall unconscious this time...' She thought, returning his smile. 

She took a glance at Darrel and was surprised to see him bearing his own share of sweat. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, the look of surprise barely noticeable in his steel eyes. She looked again at Sam. There was something slightly off about him today. The dark circles under his eyes had receded a little, and it seemed as if he was more energetic. Despite that, the subtle air of melancholia and a deep rage, seemingly biding its time remained, shrouding him. 

The princess still had trouble with finding a way to help him. It still seemed as if the only things keeping him rooted in the land of the sane was his friend Theodore. As much as she tried, she still could not completely convince herself that she was helping, or could help, at all. Self-doubt was a foreign concept to her, and she was really having difficulty overcoming it. She shook her head. 'Perhaps I will discover something more once we have a chance to talk. Something I can use to help him.' 

Dettella was tempted to just pull him aside right then. Her curiosity was almost overwhelming. She suspected that her sudden revelation the previous night would be confirmed, that Sam was an 'other'. If it was true, she wondered if she would be able to hold herself back enough to actually help him at all. Thinking of all that, the temptation reached a peak. Dettella took a step towards Sam, ready to drag him into the forest. 

Fortunately, Giela appeared before her at the same moment. The princess managed to clamp down on her curiosity and looked to her handmaiden to see what she needed. 

"I managed to get one of the captives to speak to me... I mean other than the harsh words of usual." The pink-haired elf said. 

"Ah, good. Was it the one I mentioned?" Dettella asked. 

"Yes, she said she was spared by, um, Lord Samson. Well, she didn't know his name, she called him the man with the scary, pretty eyes." Giela said, blushing slightly as they both glanced toward Sam. He was sat cross-legged, gulping water from a leather canteen. Dettella nodded for her to continue. "She just said she wanted to know why. Why she was spared, why he gave her food, and some other things that I couldn't quite understand due to her crying." 

"Hm..." Dettella brought her right hand to her chin. 'I'll have to keep an eye on Giela around Samson...' She thought. "Alright, I'll ask him to talk with her. This might mean the difference between being imprisoned or being given justice. I'd like you to translate the conversation for me when it occurs." 

"Of course, milady. In the meantime, I would like to quickly load up your chest for our departure." The handmaiden said, and bowed when Dettella nodded to her. She walked away with the practiced gait of a professional servant. 

The princess turned, and strode around the empty fire pit, feeling the sticks and rocks beneath her thinly soled slippers. Sam looked up as she approached, and seeing her, smiled. He already looked revitalized, after only a few minutes rest. He stood, leaning on his sheathed sword. Then, he bent forward and kissed her briefly. He did it in such a casual manner that Dettella went along naturally. Only after a moment of thought did she realize what had happened. 

Her stomach fluttered as she looked up at him. It seemed that he hadn't really realized what he'd done either, as all of a sudden he blushed and looked around quickly. Seeing that no one had been watching, he let out a relieved breath. He looked back down at her and started rubbing the back of his head the way he did when he was embarrassed. Then his eyes began darting around, looking anywhere but at her as he spoke. 

"I-I, uh, ahem... Uh, sorry. I don't know where that came from." He whispered. 

"Again, you need not apologize, Samson. It was nice. If I am to be courting you, I would like you to do that more often." She gave him a playful smile. "And I would hope to be able to reciprocate as well." 

His cheeks turned bright red. "A-Ah, uh, yeah. Th-That'd, um, that would be good." 

Dettella shook her head, remembering that she had come to him for a purpose, not to flirt and tease. "One of the captives wanted to speak with you. I think it is a good opportunity to bring her to our side. It may be the difference between whether your friend gets treatment or not." 

Sam stiffened. "What do you mean? Which one is it? What should I say?" 

"She is the one you spared in the fight, the one you knocked out after severing her hand." She replied. "She wishes to know why you did it. As for what you should say... You should just be honest." 

"O-Oh, okay..." He scratched his head. "I was wondering who she was the other night, but I'd sorta forgotten. Alright, I'll talk to her." Sam's eyes became distant for a moment, somewhat glazed. He nodded. Then he frowned and shook his head. 

Dettella watched the odd actions with a mixture of concern and her ever plaguing curiosity. She shook her own head, attempting to dispel the urge. "Good. You should see her now before we leave." She smiled at him again. "Time is of the essence, dear Samson! We have an elf queen to confront!" 

He grinned lopsidedly. "Okay, let's go talk to her then." 

——— 

Sam followed the princess as she walked around the carriage to where Giela had the captive elf waiting. As soon as he appeared, the elf looked up. Her dirty face was striped by the dry trails left by tears. Her eyes looked exhausted with the large bags beneath them. She sat on the ground, her bound legs and arms held out in front of her. Curly, yellowish green hair brushed her shoulders. 

Sam glanced at Dettella as she quickly disappeared around the carriage with her handmaiden. 'Wh-What?' Suddenly, he wasn't feeling nearly as confident. Dettella had said this meant the difference between Theo getting treatment or not. The pressure fell on him like a hammer blow. 'What... What am I supposed to say? I-I don't even know the answer to her question!' 

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. After an awkward moment of silence, he sat down on the ground. 'Hey, it's alright Sam. You got me here with you after all.' Samson said with that annoying tone of indifference he sometimes got. 

'Ah, I feel so much more reassured now.' Sam replied. 

Samson gave a sort of mental frown. 'Really?' He asked. 

'No.' 

The elf woman opened her mouth, but closed it after a moment and looked away. Sam shifted, hunching forward in the way he did when he was feeling discomfort at something. 

"You speak elf." She stated softly, still not looking at him. 

"Er, yeah..." He replied. 

"I saw you speakin' to that knight. She don't seem to speak much back." She said, and Sam nodded. She paused for a moment, then continued. "You talked to her with care, and you gave her your own clothes... Well, I suppose that should be 'nough, but I wanted to hear from you. You... You din't actually nab the liege lady's daughter, did you?" 

Sam frowned. "...Do you mean Feima?" 

"Yes..." Her brown eyes finally turned back to him, an intense focus shining through her obvious fatigue. 

"Ah, well I sort of did, but it was so I could make Belleby her familiar. It was supposed to have been a repayment for his leading me back to my friends, but then Feima's mother killed him. I'm sure you saw that part. I think that's why Feima ended up fleeing to the human lands, and why she vowed to kill her mother. I can imagine what that might feel like. If someone killed my familiar I would be pretty upset too. Probably feels awful, getting the bond ripped out of you like that." 

Sam felt his eyes getting a bit watery at the idea of losing Letta. He shook his head, realizing he'd started rambling like he tended to do when he got nervous. "Ah, sorry. I started rambling." He laughed shakily. 

"I see... I suspected as much." She replied. 

Sam scratched his head, unsure what to say next. He wondered if maybe he should broach the subject that had brought him there. "Um, if you don't mind my asking... What's your name?" 

"...I am called Frinala. Though, my fellows have recently taken to calling me Nientrevuchaman." She replied, her eyes leaving him again. 

"Um, I don't know that word... What does it mean?" Sam asked, frowning. 

Even as she answered, the meaning seemed to click into his mind. "It's slang. That may be why you dunno it. It basically means 'slut for humans', or 'human fucker'. It's similar to Nientrevuchala, which means the same thing, but for the mountain elves." The way she said 'mountain elves' seemed to radiate disgust. 

"I see... Why did they start calling you that?" 




Bound in Spirals Ch. 12



Frinala grumbled tiredly under her breath. "Well, Deomie started it, damn her. She said that I was weak-willed. Even though she took your stew too." She shook her head frustratedly, then pulled her knees up and hugged them. "The men are just following along. Foolish creatures..." 

"Ah... Well, anyways, was that all you wanted to ask me?" Sam said, figuring out a way to change the subject. 

"No, there was another thing..." The elf hesitated, then her eyes rose to meet his once again. "Why did you not kill me in the fight? Why let me live?" 

"That..." Despite having known what her question would be beforehand, Sam had not found an answer. He was silent for a long time, just trying to remember why he had done it. "I... Well, I don't really know why I did it, I honestly can't really remember. It all happened so quickly and, well you wouldn't have seen it, but I lost control of my magic shortly after that, so I have a few blank spots in my mind." 

Sam heard a soft choking noise from the carriage, but Frinala didn't seem to have noticed it. 'Your princess and her handmaiden are eavesdropping in there.' Samson told him. Sam just disregarded it for the moment. 

The elf's eyes to bored into his, searching for something. He held her gaze, unsure why he did. "I... I understand." She muttered, looking back down. "But... How did you lose control of your magic?" 

"Ah, well... Basically, I was torn in half horizontally by the biggest hoshind, and Sa... Ahem, I had to use an enormous amount of magic to rebind my body. It has a tendency to overpower my mind a bit, I guess my willpower isn't very strong or something." He laughed, embarrassed to admit his weakness. 

"Y-You have enough power to do that?" Frinala looked at him incredulously. 

"Um, yeah, I guess so..." He rubbed at the back of his head. 

"The argwolf is yours...!" She realized. "But, ain't human males supposed to be relatively weak? Why are you so powerful?" 

Sam shrugged, looking away. "Luck of the draw?" He said although his thoughts contradicted his words. Since that morning, he'd begun to suspect that his high magic level had something to do with the whole 'Hanged Man' business though he wasn't really sure what it meant yet. It certainly sounded foreboding, though... 

"...Alright then, I suppose... I suppose I will have to be satisfied with the answer you gave me." Frinala finally replied, her voice quietly thoughtful. 

"Yeah... I'm sorry I can only give you a vague answer. I suppose the best I can give is that I just had a feeling. That's pretty vague though too. Gah, I don't know..." Sam said, still feeling embarrassed. His unease was made clear by his rapid speech and slightly shaky voice. "W-Well, if that's all you wanted to ask, I need to go get ready..." 

"Yes... That was all I wanted to know. Thanks for being honest with me." She said, her eyes downcast. It was clear that she was hardly paying him any more attention, she was too deep in her own thoughts. 

Sam quickly stood and hurried away, anxious to be freed from that awkward atmosphere. Dettella met him around the other side of the carriage, followed closely by Giela. He meant to speak first, to ask why she'd left him all alone with the elf, but she beat him to it. 

"Samson!" She said in an urgent whisper, "Why did you just tell her that you had no idea?!" 

He frowned. "Y-You said to be honest... Should I have said something different?" 

She grimaced. "Well, yes I suppose I did say that..." She shook her head vigorously. "Blight! Ah, well it's too late now anyway. We'll just have to hope she appreciates your honesty enough to defend us to the queen. If not... Well, it will be quite troublesome for all of us, to say the least." 

"Okay..." Sam said quietly. He felt like a fool for not saying the right things, for disappointing Dettella. "I-I'm sorry." 

His shoulders trembled. 'She's not going to like me anymore... She'll think I'm an idiot, incompetent. I don't deserve her fancy anyway, I'm just a pathetic excuse for a man. I'm not strong enough...' Everything around him was cast in shadow all of a sudden as if a cloud had just blocked the sun. 'I need to be punished more. I need to be hit, cut, abused...' 

'Hey! Why are you saying this stuff?' Samson asked he sounded worried. 'Why care what she thinks? She's just a spoiled little princess anyways. You can be your own man, Sam. Weakness is subjective. You've been torn apart, stabbed, slashed. Yet you still keep going! You've kept going all this time, for Theodore! Don't let the words of some uppity bitch get to you!' 

'She's not an uppity bitch!' Sam replied vehemently, then went on, 'I-I love her... So, it's alright. She can abuse me. I need to be beaten. I'll, I'll just let her use my sword...' He unbound the sword from his waist and held it out to Dettella, who was still standing there, watching him with eyes full of disappointment and anger... 

——— 

Dettella watched uncomprehendingly as Sam's expression became full of anguish. His face looked as if he was witnessing his family being butchered brutally before him. 'Wh-What? What happened?' His body seemed to shrink as he hunched forward, pulling his arms around himself. Then, he began reaching for his sword. He unbound it, then held it out, gripping it on the sheath just below the narrow cross guard. 

"Why...? What is he doing?" Giela muttered. 

"What's wrong Sa—" 

"Punish me." Sam said, cutting Dettella off. "Cut me... Please." 

She couldn't manage a response. 'Why is he acting like this...? Why did his mood swing so suddenly? What caused it?' As she watched, Sam's expression changed. He gritted his teeth, struggling against something. 

"Damn it, Sam! Stop this!" Sam said. His eyes were harder, steelier, not nearly as melancholic. "What's gotten into you?!" 

'That doesn't sound like Samson, that's a Straldan accent. What is going on?' Dettella shook her head, but it didn't clear. She was rendered incapable of action. 

——— 

Samson struggled to pull back Sam's hand. 'Damn, why is he overreacting like this?!' He gritted his nonexistent teeth. "Damn it, Sam! Stop this!" He said. "What's gotten into you?!" 

'I, I need punishment. I've displeased her...' Sam replied, sounding on the verge of weeping. 

Sam wrested control from Samson, shoving him away. Samson floundered in the waves of magic for a moment before finding his balance. He lunged back toward Sam as he stopped paying attention to him. 

"Please..." Sam said, "Just stab me." 

Through his eyes, Samson saw the terrified expressions of the princess and her servant. 'He's acting so... so insane. Is this a "panic attack" as he called it? No, no this is much different.' He recalled the memories he'd seen in Sam's mind. 'No, he's getting worse. Ever since he's come to this world... Could this be battle mania? Is all of the death finally getting to him?' 

He gripped Sam and yanked him away from his body, then took his place before his body could fall limp. 'Quick, say something! Get him out of there!' 

"Uhh... Sorry, I'm just kidding of course. All just a joke, haha." Samson said. "I, uh, I'm gonna go take a piss." 

He sprinted into the forest, leaving behind the utterly befuddled women. Sam writhed, trying to retake control. Without thinking, Samson made a small room with his magic, trapping Sam outside. The gold and silver swirls battered against his meager amount of bright blue. 

"Phew..." He stopped running, feeling the exhaustion catching up to him. "Fuck, why do I tire so quickly?" 

He'd barely managed to make it a hundred feet into the forest. The sound of Sam raving outside the tiny room brought him back to the current situation. 'Fuck you, Sam. Why do you have to be so difficult?' 

'I need pain. I need it. I deserve it. I've done something wrong. I made her angry. I messed up. I killed Theodore. I always do this. I should die. I—' 

'SHUT UP!' Samson was fed up. 'She isn't angry at all! Are you fuckin' blind?! Quit your goddamn crying! You didn't mess up, you did exactly what she told you to do. Can't you see? She wasn't frustrated with you, she was frustrated with herself.'  

'No... No, she hates me.' 

'Wha- did you not hear what I just said?! Open your eyes!' Samson shoved the memory of that moment into Sam's head, several times. Showing him, making it blatantly clear that the princess's frustration was directed inward. 'Do you see now?!' 

Sam didn't respond, but the waves of his magic no longer crashed against Samson's. With the sudden peace, he was given a moment to think back again. 'He's getting worse. Ever since he's come to my world, his mind has continuously deteriorated. Damn it! What do I do?! I can't let him go on like this, but how do I fix him? Is it even possible?' Now Samson felt like breaking down. It felt like a huge weight on his figurative shoulders. 

He'd never had such a heavy responsibility. Of course, he could always just give up, right? Why should he have to help Sam? He didn't know anything about the issue, nor did he have the emotional capacity to help him. He didn't want to have to save this man from the madness for him. He would probably just end up going insane with him! He couldn't do it, he was just a man. He wasn't even smart, barely above average, at best. 

All he knew how to do was fight. That was how he'd had to live ever since he was born. His mother made sure of that, damn her. What could he do? A mere man. A violent, quick to anger, stupid man. He felt like breaking down and weeping with Sam. He didn't want to fight, he'd been forced to do it. He didn't want to kill people. People who likely had families, people they loved and were loved by. 

He'd been made to do it, by his mother, by the queen, by societies expectations. He was a man, he had to fight. It was that or become a slave and let his family suffer, lose their home. His mother could go fuck herself, but his dad? His sister? Damn it, he missed them. He wanted to go home again. He wanted to see his family. He had just wanted to live a mundane life. He just wanted peace. Still in Sam's body, Samson began to cry. 

Tears fell down Sam's cheeks. He made no sounds beyond the soft sniffling. The first time he'd cried since he was 14. He cried out his bottled anger at his mother for treating him like trash, his anger at the queen for making him fight a war that didn't do anything for him. He cried his grief for the friends who had died in the war, his grief for his sister who loved him who had probably died as well. He cried for all of the people he had killed, all of the people who had lost loved ones by his hands... 

His sobbing ceased a few minutes later. Tears no longer fell. He brushed the dampness from Sam's cheeks with his hands. Sat against a tree, Samson looked up. Up at the dim light streaming through the thick foliage of the forest, and he laughed. He hadn't realized how much he'd been holding in. How much pain he'd hidden in his chest. It felt as if a pressure had been released with his tears. 

All he could do was fight. But that wasn't so bad, was it? He could fight. He would fight. For Sam, for his friend. He would fight on with alacrity because this time he was the one making the choice to. Not the queen, not his mother, him. He smiled. This was a burden he could carry. 

Then, he gasped. A sudden revelation hit him. He'd figured it out. He finally realized what was causing Sam's condition to worsen. "The magic... The magic! It has to be the magic! How did I not see it before?! Damn, and I was calling him blind." He grinned, smacking Sam's forehead with his palm. "I'm fucking stupid. Well, at least I wasn't too stupid to figure it out! Ha! With as much magic as he has, it'd be ridiculous if he wasn't going mad!" 

'Sam! I figured out why you're going insane!' He shouted out at Sam mentally. The man was still silent, his magic unmoving. 'Sam...?' 

Sam finally spoke, in a voice so quiet that Samson had to strain to hear it, 'I'm really losing my mind, aren't I? I mean literally, I am going mad.' 

Samson winced, the pain in his voice was palpable. He took a moment to reply. 'I...' He paused, considering lying, but discarded the idea. 'Yes, I think the magic is affecting you. I think it's... Well, it's just my theory, but I think it's "enhancing" many of the negative emotions you're feeling. On top of creating new negative thoughts, of course. I-I'm sorry Sam, I should have thought about it when I realized how much greater the "glee" was...' 

When Sam did not respond, he continued. 'I'm here for you. You know that, right? I will help you deal with this. We can work on helping you get a grip on your magic, I've heard a few methods that seem to make it easier, if a little slower. And... well, as reluctant as I am to admit it, the princess does seem to be concerned about you, at least...' Sam still did not respond. '...I'll, uh, I'll give you your body back now.' 

Samson released his magic and let himself fall away from Sam's body... 

——— 

Sam looked down at the reddish brown soil below him, unable to think. Up until this point, he'd been denying that he was actually, really losing his mind, but now... He couldn't hide from it anymore. The fact that his 'panic attacks' were nowhere near what they had been was undeniable. It used to be just a slight shortness of breath for a little while, then he'd be fine. Now, they came with painful flashbacks, desires for pain, desires to hurt others, memory lapses... 

Samson's words rang true. The power was corrupting him, though not in the way power typically does. He felt hollow. How is a man to react when he finds out he's going crazy? Does he weep? Does he embrace insanity's whims? Does he fight it? Does he kill himself before he can no longer make his own decisions? Does he...? 

"Samson...!" He heard Dettella calling in the distance. 

He didn't reply. He didn't want her to see him at that moment, at his worst. He wanted to curl up and just die. He wanted to give up. What would anyone care? Sure, they might grieve for a little while, but they'd get over it. He barely knew anybody here. He'd only known Theodore a couple days before he'd gone comatose. He'd only known Dettella for what? Three? Four days? If he thought about it, he'd spent the most time with Fenella out of all of the people here. 

Fenella of all of them would probably care the least. She was a strange woman, to say the least. Her personality seemed to change by the day. Kind and caring one day, to gruff and callous the next. Darrel, he was just teaching him how to use the sword, and he hardly even talked except to give pointer between sparring. Was he forgetting anyone? Well, there was Vielchena, the strange elf who had followed him out of Fraeline. He still wasn't sure what to make of her, but he doubted she'd care much either. 

Then... Letta. Letta would care. He could convince himself that none of the others would care, but not Letta. She had the loyalty of a dog and the protective attitude of an older sister. She'd helped him, protected him, cared for him through all of this. He realized at that moment that he hadn't been paying her as much attention as she deserved lately. He'd been so caught up with training and spending time with Dettella that he'd almost forgotten her. The guilt of that alone was enough to shove away thoughts of dying. 

Sam let himself return to reality a little, let his senses reach out. He could feel Samson's worry pulsating in the back of his mind, and he heard the princess still calling for him in the distance. Closer, he heard the soft, crisp sound of something treading on tree needles. 'Letta?' He hoped, looking up from the ground. No, it wasn't her. Life doesn't always create perfect coincidences like that, unfortunately. 

"It seems you've finally realized, based on that look in your eyes." Fenella said, stepping around the nearest tree, balancing herself against the rough reddish bark. Her curly brown hair bounced with each step she took. "Your magic is influencing your mind." She stopped, standing a few feet in front of him. 

He looked back down. In a voice void of emotion, he spoke. "You knew, then." He paused. "Why not warn me?" 

It was a minute before she replied. When she finally did speak, it was only one word. "Curiosity." 

"Curiosity." Sam repeated, feeling the word roll off his tongue with contempt. "I see. I think I've learned more of what kind of person you are with that one word than all of the days I've traveled with you." 

"Think what you will." She said, leaning back against the tree with her arms crossed. "I am a liar, in many ways, but that answer was a truth." 

Sam chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. "Do you ever wonder if you're a bad person? Do you ever wonder if anyone would care if you just disappeared? Died? Would people grieve for you, or would they celebrate? Or perhaps just be indifferent?"  

Again, it took her time to answer. "I have an odd impulse to tell you the truth of my thoughts. This is not a common thing for me, you see... Very well, I suppose it does not matter either way, no one listens to a madman." She tapped her forearm with her index finger for a moment, then continued. "I am most certainly not a good person. Though, I would not say I am bad either. The world is not so black and white, as I am sure you have, or will, learn. As for what other's would think upon my death? Well, I suppose that would depend on what person I was to them. Is that the answer you seek?" 

"...Who are you?" He asked, not sure if he really cared to hear the answer or not. 

"Who am I? I am Fenella Ranlenn, the eccentric, yet spirited, healer." The liar said. "Or do you mean to ask who I really am? Well, I cannot guarantee my answer to that will contain the truth." 

Sam realized then that he really did not care at all. At least, not at that moment. 'Sam, I think it might be a good idea to avoid talking to her...' Samson advised. 'She's shady, at best.' 

Sam ignored him. "Tell me anyway." He said, trying to dredge up some semblance of curiosity. 

"I am just a woman who enjoys telling a good story." She replied simply. "Who are you, Samson Wallace?" 

"Me? I am a traveler." Sam replied, finally looking up to meet her eyes. "You'll find no happy ending in me." 

"A tragedy, eh? What a coincidence." She grinned. "That's my favorite kind of story." 

With that, the liar left, and he contemplated what she'd told him. He wondered if she'd had a purpose in talking to him. Sam remained there for a time, unsure if he could continue on as he had. 

————— 

Thus ends Chapter 12. Thanks for reading guys! If you have time, please leave a comment! I love reading them and I always look forward to seeing what you guys think! I think that's one of the most rewarding parts of writing, hearing what others think and connecting to them through your own work, so don't hesitate to leave a comment about anything. :)



Bound in Spirals Ch. 13



Hello strangers! It's me again, your favorite writer of this story! First, I'd like to apologize for forgetting to mention that I was taking a short break for christmas, I put it in my bio, but I'm sure not everyone checks it. Second, I'd like to thank Ed for his amazing help as usual, but unfortunately this will be the last chapter he edits. Real life obligations have stolen him from my grasp. Thirdly and finally, please enjoy!

—————

Sam did not move from his position against the tree. Rough, flaky bark scratched his back through his clothing. His forearms were starting to tingle with numbness from being pressed against his knees for too long.

'...What will you do now?' Samson asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I will make sure Theodore is healed. Whatever it takes." Sam replied.

'Well, yes... but what do you want to do beyond that?'

"I... I want to go back to the library, back to my books... No... I don't know. I feel weary, Samson. Weary of life, weary of this past of mine that plagues me whatever I do." Sam said aloud, his voice reflecting his words. "I realize now, with the clarity of detachment, that indecision is one of my great weaknesses. I cannot easily make big choices. I am dependent on others pointing out a direction for me. I don't know if I can easily break from that pattern."

'But, you can't just give up. What abo...'

"I never said I would 'give up'. I will continue living, but I don't think I can convince myself that I am enjoying it anymore."

'Well, what about the princess? Doesn't she make you happy?'

His eyes twitched into a brief expression of pain and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. He paused, collecting his thoughts. "...I can't help but think that all of this is too good to be true, that I was too naive. It will undoubtedly end badly. Our little teasing and whatnot just seems a bit foolish now. My eyes have been opened, forced open, and I just feel like I have been lying to myself all this time." He said solemnly, his words punctuated by Dettella calling in the distance.

After a moment of thought Samson said, 'I think that perhaps you're being too hasty in your judgment. If you're willing to listen to my advice, not that I'm the greatest person for that sort of thing, but I do want to help.'

"I'll listen." Sam said.

'Alright, then for now I suggest making a goal for yourself. Doesn't really matter what it is, I suppose. It could be that you just want to get between the princess's legs, but set yourself something to achieve. Then after that, you can set a new goal.'

Taking a deep breath, Sam considered the idea. It took him a while to think of something that he genuinely wanted, something he could focus on. "Very well. I have something..."

'Well? Don't leave me hanging like that, tell me what it is.' Samson said with an audible smile.

"I will learn to use this sword. Consistently defeating Darrel will be a good enough goal to start, I think." He said.

'...That wasn't a joke, was it? Fucking... You're impossible. That goal will take forever to reach!' Samson said incredulously. 'I'd been thinking something a bit easier to accomplish. Something like, oh I don't know... becoming the queen?'

"It is the only thing I could think of, and despite my uncertain feelings toward Dettella and the others around me, I don't want them to suffer because of me. I will become strong enough to prevent that at least."

Samson sighed, and Sam could imagine him rubbing his forehead in exasperation. 'Fine, I suppose it's something at least. Though I really do think fucking the princess is a much better goal, in many ways.'

Sam shook his head, not deigning to respond to that. He stood, leaning on his sword, and looked back the way Samson had run.

'Oh come on, I was just joking! Well, half-joking at least...'

Sam began walking back toward their little encampment, feeling a little more certain about himself now that he had a goal in mind.

———

Dettella's mind was in a nonstop war between worry and curiosity. Every time curiosity seemed to be getting ahead, her conscience would suddenly step in and fend it off, but it always came back with a vengeance. Sam, of course, is what they were warring over. That strange personality switching he'd had... It was on the verge of tearing her apart.

"Samson!" She called, still hoping for a response. Darrel had told her to 'leave him be', but this time she just couldn't. 'Blight it! I thought I'd seen him run this way.' She frowned, in part concern, part frustration.

She decided to go back to her carriage and start again from the beginning. 'I really should have pursued knowledge on tracking. Well, any useful knowledge of the wilderness would have been ideal really.'

"Milady! I found him." Giela came running up, pointed back behind. "He's walking back now."

"Good, let's go meet him then." Dettella replied, already starting off the way her handmaiden had come.

"Um..."

"Hm? What is it?" She stopped, looking at the short woman.

"Well, I think you should be careful." Giela said, shifting uncomfortably. "Something... Something has changed, I think."

Dettella pursed her lips. "Very well. I will be cautious. Let us meet him back at the camp." She said, turning back toward the road.

They arrived at the carriage first, but they were not long in waiting. Dettella nearly let out an involuntary gasp upon seeing him. He looked... different. At first she couldn't pinpoint what it was. He still had an air of melancholy about him, but something... 'That's what it is!' She thought, seeing his eyes as they turned toward her.

The madness residing in them, it was simply no longer there. No, that wasn't right... The madness was still there, faintly, but it was as if it was under control somehow. Something significant had just happened within Sam, and Dettella wasn't sure whether to be concerned or happy for him.

A feeling rose unbidden inside her. She tried desperately to quash it, to dispel it, but it was insistent. She flinched. She wanted to slap herself. 'No! No, I won't allow it!' She told herself, but the feeling grew regardless... Disappointment. It was quickly followed by revulsion, but it was not enough to overpower it.

Dettella saw Sam's hand move and her eyes followed it, eager for a distraction. The movement, she realized, was him clenching the pommel of his sword. He looked down at his hand, and for a brief moment, the madness in his eyes lurched forward hungrily. She felt like vomiting. She despised herself for the feeling of relief she had in that moment.

'I am a disgusting person.' She thought, 'Why do these hideous feelings continue harassing me?! My curiosity... it is too dangerous.' Self-loathing nearly consumed her in that moment. She didn't know what to do, it was so frightening.

"Dettella," Sam finally spoke, his voice sounding hesitant. "I... I'm sorry if I troubled you, running off like that. My mind... lately it has been hazy. It has cleared a bit now, I suppose..."

She looked back up at him and his icy blue eyes met hers. His expression was troubled, as if he was trying to find the right way to say something he didn't want to say.

"Yes... You look more lucid." She said, trying to make herself feel relieved for him.

"...I want—" His reply was cut off.

"We should leave now." Darrel said, stepping around the carriage. "We have delayed too long. Much longer and news may arrive before we do."

Sam nodded and hurried off toward Letta, leaving Dettella feeling uncertain. She winced, a sudden headache stabbing behind her eyes. "Ugh, not again..." She muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'Blight, I thought I was done with these...'

"Milady?" Giela looked at her, concerned.

"Just a headache. Would you please fetch me some water? And help everyone else prepare to leave if they need it. I have to go sit down." The princess said, her voice strained.

"Of course." The elf strode off as Dettella walked the few steps to the carriage, lacking some of her usual grace.

———

Sam took the opportunity Darrel had afforded him gratefully, and escaped the increasingly awkward situation. 'Dammit, why couldn't I say anything?' He grumbled frustration at himself under his breath. 'I should have at least told her that I still wanted to talk to her, one on one.' He sighed. 'Well, I'll just make sure to approach her after we get Theodore situated with the healers.'

It had felt very strange seeing Dettella again. Even though he'd seen her half an hour earlier, she seemed like a completely different person to him. Somehow, she seemed less perfect, more... realistic, in a way. Before, she'd seemed like a goddess, or an angel. Something to be worshipped. Of course, he'd known somewhere that that wasn't the case, but it was how it had seemed most of the time.

Now, he recognized her flaws. In that brief moment he felt like he'd seen 'more' of her than he had since he'd met her days before. Oddly, the fact that she was imperfect had washed away the doubts he'd been having about his feelings earlier. Her slightly large nose, the speckling of acne on her upper cheeks, eyebrows that were just a bit uneven...

It somehow made her good features seem even more beautiful. Her soft full lips, her golden blonde hair cascading down her shoulders in loose ringlets, and her dainty chin. Most of all, her big emerald eyes. So vibrant in color as to seem unnatural, and the gleam of intelligence in them. They captivated him as if they had a mesmerizing magical power in them.

Of course those were just physical features. Her personality was, in it's own way, just as attractive. Her persistent curiosity for anything she lacked knowledge of, her gentle kindness, and her intelligence. As well as her lack of prejudice, despite the world she'd grown up in. All of it added up to pretty much everything he could ever hope for in a romantic partner. 

In the few moments of him realizing all of these things, he'd frozen up. He'd barely been unable formulate coherent thoughts. This really wasn't all that out of the ordinary for him, but for some reason it had still shocked him. So when Darrel said they need to go, he'd fled from the scene as quickly as he could.

He skirted the empty fire pit, aiming straight for the great gray form ahead. Letta was lying on her stomach, her head resting on her paws. When she heard him coming her ears perked up and she lifted her head, turning to him. Upon seeing him, her deep black eyes widened.

'You are... changed.' She said.

His joy at seeing her took him by surprise, making his lips pull up involuntarily. He hadn't expected to feel happy so soon after acknowledging he was going insane, after that feeling of complete hollowness. For a moment it made him worry that he was trying to hide from it again subconsciously. No... he was just genuinely happy to see Letta.

'I've just had a moment of clarity.' He replied.

'I understand. Did it have something to do with the princess?' She asked, glancing toward the carriage.

'Not directly, no. Though it will affect my relationship with her, I think.' He paused. 'Why do you ask?'

Letta sniffed loudly. 'Her scent is... conflicted. I have not smelled this from her before. Not to this extent, at least.' 

'Really? Well, her expression was a bit odd when I was talking to her.'

'Yes,' She replied. 'Also, she is starting her period of menstruation.'

'Wh-What? Why'd you tell me that?' Sam stammered, taken aback.

'I just wished to warn you so that you would know that mating now would not be fruitful.' She huffed in her approximation of laughter. 'I also wanted to see your reaction. You have not changed too much, you still get flustered easily.'

He frowned at her. 'You shouldn't go around saying people's private stuff like that. It's pretty rude, you know.'

'I am not going around, I can only communicate with you. Besides, it is useful information for you. You should be grateful.'

'Well, regardless I'd rather you not tell me that sort of thing, it's a bit embarrassing. Though I appreciate the thought, I guess. You can tell me about their other scents though, that would be interesting. What do I smell like?'

'Your smell... it is clearer than before. You smell happy about something, and... never mind.' Letta said.

'Well, I am happy. I am happy that I'm talking to you. I, er... I feel like I've been neglecting you a bit. I wanted to apologize for not spending much time with you lately...'

Letta shook her massive head. 'You need not. I remember when I met my first mate... At times we forgot even to hunt.'

'I see... Well, thanks for being understanding then.' He replied as he began clambering up her side.

'You are coming with me, then?' She asked, sounding pleased.

'Yeah, I don't think I could manage riding in the carriage with her right now. It would probably be a bit awkward, at least until I get the chance to talk to her alone.'

'"A bit awkward" is probably an understatement.' Samson said, joining in.

'Samson, I would like you to try to get in contact with Rentell again. I need to know who the other "saints" are as soon as possible.' Sam told him.

'Whoa, where's that coming from?'

'Just try, please,' He replied. 'It is important to know if there are any around, and what their intentions are.'

'I'll try, but I doubt I can figure it out before he ends up contacting us first...'

'That's fine.' Sam was already returning his focus to Letta as he spoke. Samson retreated, muttering discontentedly about not being wanted around. 'Letta, would you tell me what scents Fenella gives off?'

'Hmm...' She sniffed the air in the direction of the healer, who was currently stuffing her chest back into the trunk of the carriage. 'She is contented. That is all.'

Sam frowned. He'd been hoping for a bit more. 'Are you sure?'

'Of course I am sure. She is a difficult one to read, though. The sword captain is the same, most of the time. You are odd at some moments as well.' Letta replied. 'The princess usually is very clear, the elves as well. Except for the one that follows you like a pup who has lost her mother, I rarely get any interpretable scents from her.'

'Interesting...' He said, scratching at his shoulder. Vielchena was currently sitting on a lichen encrusted boulder, sharpening her sword calmly. This reminded Sam of Darrel's warning that he would need to sharpen his sword soon. Despite it being made of velta it would still need maintenance, however infrequent. 'You said rarely, that means there have been moments when you could get something from her? When did it happen, and what did it mean?'

'I have caught it twice. Once when you gave her your clothes, second when you disappeared into the forest earlier this morning. The first was a quick moment of pleasure. The other was... more difficult. Something of a combination of worry, fear, and what I believe was a sense of abandonment. It happened when it took you long to return. Each time it was very brief, then it returned to something... neutral.'

'Interesting...' Sam thought, deciding he'd have to try to coax more of the elf's emotions out. It was the least he could do. 'It's amazing that you can smell all of that, though. Pretty useful.'

'Ah, w-well it is partially a sort of feeling as well, not just my sense of smell. Any of my kin could do it.'

Sam chuckled, Letta's random moments of embarrassment were still as odd to him as it had been the first time. A thought suddenly came to him. 'Letta, do you know how powerful mages learn to 'conquer' their magic, so to speak?'

'Hm? I am not certain... Though, I believe Everen used meditation somehow. Usually she would spend an hour a day "relaxing her mind". I once asked her why, and she told me something like, "Meditation is essential for one's mind and soul to be at peace."'

'Alright... I read something about stress relief techniques so I have an idea of how to meditate, but could you tell me how she did it?' Sam asked, then slid down off her back to help Darrel mount the captives on her. To him he said, "How far are we exactly? I need to know when to have her stop."

Darrel just looked at him for a moment, his eyes revealing nothing. Then he nodded. "Two hours until we reach the gate, one until you should have her stop." He said as he lifted the first elf up.

'About 15 miles at the carriages speed.' Sam thought then nodded and turned to the three captives. He held out his hands toward Frinala. She glanced at the other female elf, then stepped onto his clasped hands. Sam hefted her up, getting her high enough for her to get a hold on Letta's back.

'Everen used to sit and stare at a candle flame and hold a little of her magic. Occasionally she would repeat a word over and over as well, mostly when she had no candle or lantern available. She never really explained anything to me though, so I do not know exactly how she did it.' Letta told him as he boosted up the second woman.

As he lifted her up, she put her next foot on his head as if to step on it. Sam dropped her. She crashed to the earth with an indignant squeal. "Y-You fucking scum! How dare you?!" She screeched, her pale face flooding a deep crimson of rage.

Sam looked down at her with a blank expression. "Don't try to step on my head and I won't drop you." She glared up at him defiantly. "If you'd prefer, I can let you ride in her stomach."

She stiffened, then stood slowly. She didn't speak, nor did she look at Sam. He held out his hands again and she stepped into them. Dry tree needles came off of her soft leather slippers and into Sam's hands as she clambered up onto Letta's back. He dusted off his hands and climbed up ahead of the elves.

"Rebind them." Darrel said, then turned and walked back toward the carriage.

Sam turned to do as he'd said. 'Wait,' He thought, 'I shouldn't use my magic. Not until I can control it, or rather, control myself...' He hesitated, his hands held in front of him. 'What do I do?'

Letta turned her head to look at him. 'Are you alright Sam?' Her tone was suddenly worried.

'Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just trying to decide something.' He replied.

'But... Why are you trembling?' She asked.

'Trembling?' He looked more closely at his hands. 'I am trembling. How odd.'

'Sam are you sure you are alright? You sound... dazed.'

'Dazed, huh? I suppose you're right, I feel a little bit dazed.' He said, noting the tickle on his cheeks as tears fell from his eyes. 'I wonder why this is happening.' Suddenly, his trembling subsided. 'Oh, it stopped.'

With the back of his hand, he wiped the tears from his cheeks. 'I should probably bind them now.' Without bothering to think, he summoned his magic. The gold and silver swirls suffused his skin. He quickly bound the elves' legs to Letta and their hands together. They barely protested, still looking at him with bewildered eyes.

When he finished, he hurriedly released his magic. A relieved sigh escaped his chest, and he realized he'd been holding his breath. "Haha, I'm not sure what I was expecting to happen..." He muttered, shaking his head at his strange behavior.

Off to their right, the carriage started rolling. Sam looked down, seeing Darrel, Fenella, and Vielchena all riding on the backs of three of the five winnem. Letta rose slowly and started to lope after them. Once on the packed dirt road, Sam's mind began to lose focus. He stared at the passing trees blankly, random thoughts meandering about in his mind.

———

Dettella leaned forward, resting her elbows against her thighs. She tried to focus on her book, but the combination of her headache and thoughts of Sam were distracting her too much. She put her bookmark in and closed the book. Sighing, she began to rub at her temples. 'I need to be clear minded when we see the queen, perhaps I should try to take a nap.'




Bound in Spirals Ch. 13



"Milady, what do you think happened to Lord Samson?" Giela asked, peeking out the window.

"...I am not sure." She said after some hesitation. "His eyes were certainly changed. He looked at me differently I think."

"Yes, I noticed that too. It seemed as though he had less adoration for you." Giela added.

'Is that hope I hear in your voice...?' Dettella narrowed her eyes at the elf. "I think that might be it."

"He seemed taller. Maybe stronger as well."

"That's because he usually stands with a hunch, and with his arms pulled close. It makes him seem considerably smaller than he is. If he were to stand straighter I think he would be close to Darrel in size." Dettella said, sharing her observations. "I believe it has something to do with him wanting to be inconspicuous, due to a fear of something or someone."

"Interesting... I wonder what happened to him. Do you know?"

"No, but I have come to think it may have been an abusive parent. He mutters about his father sometimes."

Giela nodded in understanding. "He does seem a bit... broken, somehow. He is very kind, though. He offered food to the other elves, and he even gave his clothes to Vielchena. Yesterday he came and apologized to me for touching me, even though it was an accident."

Dettella cringed at the thought of that incident, then considered for a moment. "...Yes, he is kind. I think that is very fortunate for everyone considering the power he holds. I used to think I was quite powerful in that regard, but after seeing his pool... my own power feels insignificant. I'm one of 74 known SS class mages, well 75 now with my sister, and even though I am on the lower half of the class there shouldn't be anyone who can dwarf my magic as he does." Stating it as she did, it gave her a thrilling exhilaration. He was quite an interesting individual, to say the least.

"He's really that powerful? The Anged'der are after him then. What about the Urbeddists?" Giela asked.

"Yes, the Anged'der had payed the governor to kill him. They have a disturbing level of information about him," Dettella replied. "As for the Urbeddists, I don't think so. Even if they were, I wouldn't know. If they have approached him, he clearly decided not to join them. I don't think they have nearly the resources the Anged'der have though, so I doubt they've heard of him yet."

Giela nodded in understanding. She hesitated for a moment, looking at the princess with trepidation. "I think you know, but... I mean, you're quite intelligent I've heard so I'm sure you've noticed, but do you think Samson isn't... from this land, so to speak?"

Dettella raised an eyebrow. "I don't think he is from this world, no. It is partially why I am so interested in him."

Giela frowned. "Interested... in him? You talk like he is an object to be studied."

"I... I didn't intend it that way." The princess winced. 'Am I really becoming this kind of person?'

"I've seen the way you look at him at times, milady. Excuse me if I am being to presumptuous, but it seems as if you are taking advantage of him." The elf's pale features were flushing with red. Apparently she was angry. "If you don't fancy him, you shouldn't treat him like you do! How will he feel when you suddenly find something new to be curious about?! He is fragile as it is, you will utterly destroy him if you continue such a farce!"

Each word hit Dettella like a blow to the chest. "I-I..." She was stunned. Hearing her own doubts spoken aloud made them more painful somehow. "I..." Her lip quivered, and she felt her eyes getting watery.

Giela looked at the princess, her expression of anger changing to bewilderment. "Milady...?" She asked tentatively.

Dettella put her head in her hands, unable to hold back the tears beginning to stream down her face. "I-I do like him, I do! It's just m-my curiosity! I-I can't con-control it! It just overpowers everything... I hate it! I feel, I feel like such an awful person, but I can't help it!"

The elf scooted closer to the princess and slowly put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I... I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't realize... I let my own emotions get the best of me, please forgive me."

Dettella shook her head. "No, you were right. I do see him as a thing to be studied more often than I'd like to admit. I-I want to help him, but I just... I don't know, I feel like, like my curiosity will end up hurting him somehow."

"I think that as long as you do genuinely care for him that it will work out. I'm sure if you explained this thing about your curiosity he would understand, and I think he would appreciate it too." Giela said.

"Yes, you're right." She replied, drying her tears with the sleeves of her pale blue dress. "I'll talk to him about it."

The elf smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Suddenly, the princess laughed, realizing how foolish she'd been. It felt good to laugh, it was refreshing. 'I have been doubting myself far too much lately.' Her mind felt cleared. "Thank you, Giela. I feel like my anxiety has been relieved considerably."

"Of course, milady. If you have another issue like this I will be here for you to talk to. I promise that you can trust me not to speak of it beyond the two of us. Unless of course you ask me to."

Dettella smiled gratefully. "I will probably take you up on that offer in the future, but for now I think I need to relax before we reach Geylin. My headache is being persistent. I may need to ask that healer for a remedy if she has one, but that may require me swallowing my pride, a thing I'm not enthusiastic about." She laughed and leaned back against the cushioned seat, closing her eyes. "I feel much more optimistic now."

———

Sam didn't look away from the trees until he realized Letta had begun to slow. He shook his head. 'Has it already been an hour?' He asked Letta.

'I believe so. I smell civilization ahead, so I decided it is best I stop here.' She answered.

He blinked and looked around. Down below, the carriage was slowing to a stop beside Letta. "She smells the city ahead, so we'll leave her behind here!" He called down.

Darrel nodded and directed his winnem to the carriage window and spoke softly to Dettella inside. A few minutes later and they were already moving again, using only the carriage after Letta disappeared into the forest. They had managed to bind three of the captives to the carriages driver seat, which wasn't in use due to Darrel's ability to direct the winnem while riding. Sam was now sitting next to Theodore, across from Dettella, Giela, and Frinala. 

Trying to avoid the uncomfortable atmosphere, he thought back to the last week. It was difficult, like trying to remember things that happened years ago. The major events he could recall, but the minor details were lost. He sighed and combed his hair back with his fingers. He was worried for Letta, the forest land around the city seemed more sparse than the rest, making her position more precarious.

'Do not worry for me, pup. I have gone unnoticed in more dangerous places than this. At midnight I will come in contact range, we will talk more then.' She'd said, then loped into the trees.

The awkward air of the carriage was becoming unavoidable now, especially with all three of them looking at him constantly. Letting his attention return to the present he considered what to say. "Do we need to come up with some sort of plan for this?" Sam asked.

Giela jumped a little when he spoke. Dettella's eyes flickered for a moment, then she replied, "When we first arrive they will allow us to settle and freshen up before our audience with the queen. When we get to that, it would be best to let me speak to her. I've—"

"Wait," Sam said, cutting her off, "How are you so certain we'll even be allowed to speak with her, let alone clean up before it?"

She looked at him oddly, like she didn't understand the question. "Why wouldn't she receive us?"

'...Is there something I'm missing, or...?' He looked into her eyes, searching for some sort of humor in them. "You're serious. Well, first we came into their territory without some sort of warning ahead of time. Second, we killed more than a dozen of her people, one of which was a governor of a city, despite the fact that it was in self-defense I wouldn't imagine she'd be thrilled about it. Third—"

Now it was his turn to be cut off. "No," Dettella said, shaking her head, "Regardless of what has happened, she can't imprison a foreign princess, let alone kill one without expecting to have a war on her hands. The forest elf population isn't large enough, nor is it's military strong enough to be prepared for that. There is a chance that she's heard something of my sisters relationship with me, but she won't want to risk the chance that it's wrong. 

"At the moment my country is at war, but even considering that, we would have the might to defeat the elves handily. She will hear us before making any decision." Dettella glanced at Giela. "I mean no offense when I say this, it is merely fact."

Sam scratched his head. "I see... Why is the population so low?"

"The elf war." Giela answered. "Only 13 years ago the mountain elves' queen and king were both poisoned. The queen managed to survive miraculously, but her husband was not so fortunate. There has still been no answer as to who tried to have them killed, but at the time it was thought to be orchestrated by our queen. The war lasted nearly 6 years, and more than half of our men were killed, and a quarter of our women. It only ended when they captured and executed Queen Dolleifren. When our current Queen Elleifren, the second daughter, took the throne she managed to negotiate a truce with the queen of the Fenne Mountains."

Dettella nodded, the loose golden ringlets of her hair bouncing with her movement. "Both took heavy damages, and have only just begun to recover recently. Trade between them is still stagnant as well, and Crestell has only recently started receiving caravans from the mountain elves. I don't think even the southern lands have been in contact with them since before the war, and they are known for their interest in trade."

"Interesting..." Sam said, he found himself curious about the 'southern lands' of which he'd heard mention before. He shook his head, he needed to keep the conversation focused. "So we just meet with the queen and try to negotiate or something? Putting all our eggs in one basket seems a little risky... Shouldn't we come up with a plan B?"

"All our eggs...? Plan B...? What are you talking about?" Dettella had a twinkle in her eye.

"Ah, just an expression," He said quickly. "What I mean, is that we should have a backup plan just in case negotiations don't go as we hope."

"Hm, yes I suppose that does seem logical." She replied.

"You mean you didn't consider it before?" Sam was baffled.

"Well, I don't really think it necessary." She said calmly.

"Why not?" He wasn't sure if he was still misunderstanding something. 'Why is she so nonchalant about all of this now?'

"Because I won't fail." She said it with such assurance that Sam found himself believing her.

'Is this the arrogance of royalty?' He wondered. 'Well, I'm not sure I can think of any reasonable backup plans with this limited time anyway... If it comes to that, I'll get Theodore out of there and he'll have to lose his legs for good.'

"Why such a grim expression?" Dettella asked with a frown.

"Ah, was I scowling or something? I was just thinking that I haven't eaten anything this morning, or last night for that matter."

"Oh, well we will be provided a small meal before our audience with the queen, so you need not worry about that. Once we get ourselves situated I'm sure we will be invited to dinner as well." She said and Giela nodded in agreement.

"The queen is known for her extravagant feasts. My mother has spoken of them several times to me." The elf said, sounding enthusiastic.

"Your mother has been invited to them?" Dettella sounded surprised.

"Oh, no. She is one of Queen Elleifren's butlers. She oversees her meals and coordinates the dishes of the feasts. Originally she'd been a chef but found that she was better at dish arrangement than the actual cooking." Giela said with a laugh.

Sam and Dettella stared at her blankly for a few moments. Finally, Sam spoke, "And it never occurred to you that this information might be useful?"

"Well, my mother never spoke of the queen. She always said that it was ill-mannered to speak of her directly, so she only told me of what she did in her work." When both of them frowned at this, the elf continued. "I never understood it, but that's what she said. I should also mention that I haven't seen my mother since I left Geylin four years ago."

"That is... understandable, I suppose." Dettella replied with a confused frown.

"It really won't be that useful then." He said as he brushed back the lock of hair that fell over his forehead.

Giela shifted slightly, then looked away and muttered, "That's what I was saying..."

"Hmm... How much farther do you think Giela? I find myself suddenly impatient in anticipation of a warm bath." Dettella asked.

For a fraction of a second, an image of her naked body submerged in a tub flashed through Sam's mind. 'Samson, are you back?' He asked into his mind, despite knowing the answer. There was no reply. He shook his head and turned his focus back.

"...So if we are that close, my estimation would be that it should only be 15 minutes more." The handmaiden said.

"Good. Then we should start seeing the signs of settlement by now." Dettella replied as she peeked out the glass window.

To his right, Sam caught a movement. 'Frinala. I forgot she was there.' He thought. She'd been completely silent, and had yet to move an inch until that moment. She had moved to look out the left window. She let out a small gasp. "What is it?"

The elf jumped slightly at being spoken to. "O-Oh, it's just... I haven't been to the capital before. Fraeline is the furthest I'd visited, and that was to escort the villages taxes out. We only stay long 'nuff to drop it off."

Sam nodded. "I wasn't much of a traveler either, until fairly recently," He said. Out the window he caught a glimpse of an unearthed tree stump. Most of the roots were thicker around than a telephone pole. 'How in the hell did they manage to dig that up?'

He started listening to what Dettella and Giela were saying again. "...It still is incomplete?"

"Only the northern side, and I think it is most likely near completion by now. It takes many trees to construct a wall 50 feet in height, especially around a city as large as Geylin." Giela replied. She continued, a bit of pride slipping into her words. "When I was 18, just before I left, I helped to take down two trees for the wall. One of them I took down with only my father's help. It was a long week."

Sam started blocking them out again, and called out for Letta. 'Are you still in range?' He asked. There was no response. He sighed, it really was more lonely somehow without her or Samson hanging around. 'I wonder if he's had any luck finding Rentell...'

The minutes seemed to speed past, and all of a sudden Sam found himself stepping out of the carriage onto a broad, smoothly paved road of reddish-brown stone.

"Samson...?" Dettella looked at him questioningly.

"Huh? What?" He fumbled out as his head swiveled to take in his surroundings.

They were just outside an enormous double doored gate of a dark, almost blood red wood. Into the left side of the gate, a massive, six-legged hoshind was carved in both bold and intricate lines. On the opposite side, a matching carving of a great reptilian beast with bat-like wings and a pair of muscular hind legs. The creature's muscles were wiry, but well defined on it's aerodynamic body. Sharp barbs maned the roaring beast's head and traced along it's spine, ending in a leathery tail fin.

"A wyvern..." Sam muttered. 'These carvings are beautiful, intimidating, yet I can't help but feel they are nothing in comparison to the tree's carvings. Hers were like... like a window, almost.'

"You are ignoring me again." Dettella said, sounding frustrated.

"Hm? Ah, uh, sorry. I was... transfixed by the carvings." He said, smiling at her apologetically.

"I was saying that you didn't need to get out of the carriage. We just stopped to tell the gatekeepers our purpose in being here." She said.

Sam looked around again. This time he noticed Giela off to the right, speaking to an armored man. The armor consisted only of dark green breast and backplate, with dark gray chainmail beneath. His right hand rested on an ornate rapier at his hip, and held a helmet under his arm of the same metal as the breastplate. Feathery gold wings protruded from the sides of the helmet where the ears would be. The man had one of those ruggedly handsome face, with a slight shadow of whiskers and a nose that had clearly been broken several times in the past.

He was taller than most elves Sam had seen thus far. He was the same height as Dettella, who Sam had guessed was around five feet and five inches. Another odd thing was his hair, which was a dark greenish brown color, and when he turned Sam saw that his ears were more rounded than normal elves. 'A half human?' He thought, and glanced at Dettella. She didn't have the glint of curiosity in her eyes that he'd expected to see as she looked at the man.

The man knelt and kissed Giela's hand, then stood and gave her a winning smile. 'Smooth.' Sam thought. The half-human, half-elf turned and strode back toward the gate and waved up to other guards atop the wall. Giela turned and hurried back over toward Dettella with flushed cheeks.

"That is one of the queen's personal guards," She said quickly. "The queen heard tell of your coming and had him and three others sent to bring us straight to the castle. She is honoring you greatly. I think it is a good sign. Also, they will take the prisoners from here."

Dettella smiled. "It is a very good sign indeed," She replied. "Let us go then, I am eager to see the city. Samson, would you sit with me in the driver seat? We will get a much better view from there I think." She held out her hand to him.

He looked at it uncertainly for a moment, then took it. "It might be messy if they start throwing stuff at us..."

"They won't. Not with the queen's guard escorting us." Dettella assured, dragging him to the front seat just as more guards appeared from the slowly opening gate. Loud clanking sounds echoed from inside the wall as massive chains pulled it open.

Sam found himself smiling despite his rising anxiety. The three elves were still bound to the front seat and he quickly released the binds holding them there. A pair of guards took them, along with Frinala, and disappeared back inside the wall. A few minutes later, they were passing through the gates. The liar, as he had begun thinking of Fenella, had decided to ride in the carriage alongside Giela now that there was more room, leaving Darrel and Vielchena as the only ones riding winnem.

The elf knight glanced at Sam occasionally, her blank eyes unnerving him. Dettella squeezed his hand and he forced his gaze away from the elf. He looked around as they slowly passed through the gate. Fields of some sort of unrecognizable crop filled the immediate area inside the wall, continuing inside for a mile or so. At the edge of the farmland Sam could see a shorter wall of stone and the same dark red wood surrounding the city.

In the distance, an enormous spire of blue-gray towered above the city. "Whoa..." He whispered.

"Indeed," Dettella said, "It is even taller than the paintings make it seem."

"Yeah, but look at how huge the city is." Sam said. "How did they even manage to build this enormous wall all the way around it like this?"




Bound in Spirals Ch. 13



"Well they have been building it for nearly 80 years. The war stopped production for a time, and most of those men who would've be working on the wall were killed as well. So it has apparently begun again, though I imagine much more slowly." 

"I see... What are these plants growing here?" Sam asked, looking around at the dark green leaves resting just above the ground.

"Hm?" Dettella glanced down at the crop, then looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile. He shrugged in response. "These are fentil plants, you used them in that soup you made. Speaking of which, I'd like it if you cooked for me again, that soup was very unique and tasted as good as any dish I've had. I can only imagine it would taste even better if you had higher quality ingredients."

Sam nodded. "Sure I can do that," He said, finding himself smiling at the prospect. 'Fentil... Fentil...' He tried to remember where he'd heard the name. 'That's the name of that weird yellow rectangle root thing, I think... Isn't it? Gah! I feel like I'm trying to remember things that happened years ago.' He frowned and shook his head in frustration.

"Is something wrong?" Dettella asked, looking at him with concern.

"Ah, no I was just trying to remember something."

She nodded slowly and looked back toward the city as the carriage began to move faster. The four queen's guardsmen formed a square around the carriage, their lumbering hoshind keeping pace easily with the winnem. The creatures wore some dark chainmail and green armor to match their riders. On their sides, the beasts bore a crest depicting a hoshind and wyvern roaring at each other. It was identical to the carving on the massive doors they'd just passed through.

"What does that insignia mean?" Sam asked Dettella, gesturing to the piece of circular fabric fluttering as the wind caressed it.

"That's the queen's coat of arms." She replied simply.

'I was sorta hoping for an explanation of the symbolism or something... Perhaps she doesn't know. No, I doubt that. I'll just ask again later, it'd be awkward to ask again now.' Sam thought, and before he knew it they were at the gate into the city. He blinked and stared uncomprehendingly at the crossed steel bars of the rising portcullis. 'Wha...?! How did we move so quickly?'

"Ouch! Samson, are you alright?" Dettella asked, and he realized he was gripping her hand too tightly.

"Ah, s-sorry. I, uh, I sort of had a weird blank moment there..." He said, releasing her hand. "I didn't mean to squeeze your hand like that, sorry."

"It's fine, you don't need to apologize so much." She said with a soft laugh. Her bright smile relieved him of the sudden worry he'd been feeling. "I'm feeling excited to meet with the queen. I haven't been able to use my training for negotiation and debate in a while, I'd forgotten how much I miss it."

"I think it would be better if we got through it without complications..." Sam replied, thinking about Theodore who was still in the carriage. "Even if I'm punished, I would be fine with it as long as Theo gets healed up."

"You should not think like that," She said, turning quickly toward him. "Your self-sacrifice is unnecessary, and you shouldn't even consider it until it is the last option available."

He looked at her blankly for a moment, surprised at her sudden vehemence. "S-Sorry," He stuttered out rapidly. "I, ah, I didn't realize you had such a passionate opinion on that sort of thing..."

Dettella blinked. "I didn't realize it either... I guess I've never really thought about it." She frowned, then muttered, "What kind of person am I becoming...?" The way she said it didn't communicate negativity, but more of an uncertain curiosity.

He looked at her hesitantly and said, "Is it a problem?"

She rubbed her chin slowly. "No... I'm just wondering where that outburst came from, I feel that I'm not one to escalate quickly, normally that is." For a moment, she just stared at her dress clad legs thoughtfully. Then, she spoke softly as if thinking aloud. "Mm... Yes, I suppose that could be it. I think I would be more indifferent of it in that scenario. I wonder—"

Dettella cut off as the carriage began moving again. She looked back up and shook her head. They passed under the gate, and Sam got his first glimpse of the city. The same reddish-brown road led straight on, all the way to the looming tower in the distance. On either side of the road, wooden cabins and small houses were lined, most of which seemed to be stores of one type or another. There were shops of every kind and many food vendors selling strange fare to lines of customers in dusty brown clothes.

As they road past, many of the elves turned and stared. Many wore looks of hardly concealed hatred or revulsion, but what surprised Sam was the amount who looked interested, some even looked excited at their appearance. Children jumped and waved frantically as they passed, and even a few adults called greetings or welcomes. Dettella took it all in stride, waving happily as they passed.

Sam felt like he should do the same, or something similar at least, but he just stared. He took in every face, every expression, and tried to form some sort of comprehension of the sight before him. He suddenly realized that after having been kidnapped, verbally spat upon, and attacked, he had begun to fear these elves. 

Somewhere in his whirling thoughts, he knew he shouldn't be all that surprised at their behavior. After all, Giela was from this city and she was very kind. It's not as if her attitude towards humans could have come from thin air, obviously there would be more elves like her. Yet he could not calm the rising tide within him of something akin to claustrophobia. It was nearly on the level of the panic he felt when alone in a room with his half-sister, Madeline.

He realized distantly that his breathing was becoming ragged and he attempted to slow it down. Then a wave of pain hit him like a wave crashing on his back. The indescribable pain of the skin and muscle at his belly tearing, then more muscle tearing and his spine straining, and finally the terrible crack as it was ripped apart viciously. The feeling of his body being tossed aside like so much trash, the only thing connecting the two pieces of himself being his intestines.

Sam clutched his gut which was still perfectly intact, and let out a sound which was half whimper, half grunt. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he relived that experience of brutal death. He leaned over the side of the carriage and coughed and gagged, saliva dripping from his open mouth like he needed to vomit. He felt a hand on his back and trembled at the warm touch. The sounds of Dettella's words reached his ears, but did not register in his brain.

'Sam, you're fine.' He told himself. 'Giela is kind, and you don't fear her. Frinala seems to be on a path to being more accepting too. Vielchena, she sees you as some sort of master now, so she's alright. What about them? You don't feel afraid around them.'

Another part of himself said, 'Yeah, Janine was nice too, but that didn't stop her from standing by as you were molested and violated by Madeline.'

The other part replied, 'But she protected you from her that time!'

'Yeah, after what, three? Four years?' His other side said with disdain.

'She must have not realized what was happening until then!' He said.

'Bullshit. She was in the very next room, even a moron would have figured it out before then. She just ignored it. Just like she ignored all those times Britney beat us right out in the living room. Fuck off with your crappy excuses.'

'Why? Why is this happening?' Sam thought, witnessing the argument occurring in his mind. 'I was fine earlier, so why is this happening? I stood up to that elf earlier when she tried to step on me, so why do I feel so much fear now? Why am I still having this hallucination after the haze was lifted from my mind?'

'Buddy, you thought insanity just up and walks away when we admit you're not right in the head? We're still just as delusional as before.' He replied. 'But that's our charm right? My naiveté? Ha!'

Sam felt his hand grip Dettella's as she pulled open his tense fist and slid her fingers between his.

'I'm not naive!' He continued, laughing internally. 'We're just lying to myself! What the fuck is wrong with me?! HAHA!'

'Why now? I don't even fear them.' Sam said, his tone half questioning.

'What are we doing? Trying to rationalize this?' His other self chuckled mockingly. 'Man, I really am illogical at times. What about insanity do you not understand? Rationalizing insanity is like trying to teach a swim to bird!'

'That doesn't make any sense!' He replied frantically, suddenly fearing he would be trapped in his own mind like this forever.

'Exactly! I knew we had some brain somewhere around here. Now can we quit this foolishness? We're supposed to be taking in the sights!'

'What? Can I stop it so simply?' Sam asked, desperate to be released from the nonsensical torment. 'The elves, the elves! They're everywhere! I can't I can't, no no, I can't I can't! They'll rip me apart! Break me again!'

'Idiot, of course you can stop it!' He answered with another laugh, which noticeably more mad. 'Just turn around.'

Sam hesitated for a moment. Then he listened to Sam, and turned. Finally, blue met green.

———

Dettella couldn't understand what had caused Sam's sudden odd behavior. She tried getting him to turn toward her, to talk to her, but he wouldn't budge. He didn't respond to her words at all. 'Is this his madness returning already?' She wondered and felt relieved when no joy arose at the prospect. 'Blight me! What do I do? Am I freezing up again? I can't do anything! I'm a charlatan, I'm just a fool playing at being intelligent! I know nothing of treating insanity!'

The panic surfaced, and she found that she couldn't move. 'It's just like before! I'm an incompetent, naive girl who can't help one man, let alone her own country.' The thoughts all raced through her mind in the blink of an eye. 'What am I doing? I should have never fled Crestell. I left my people to suffer at the hands of Tenall, simply because I am too cowardly to face my own sister. And now what? I sit here, unable to act. Unable to act when my man is losing his mind.'

The princess, the naive girl, looked at the madman's hand as it clutched for anything to brace against. 'I'm no more than a child. A child with a lot of meaningless knowledge in her head. All I know of the world is from the infrequent excursions I was allowed in my last two years, and that which I read in books. Blighted books, that's all I know! Books, books, books. That's all I cared about for so many years, and I fancied myself some sort of realist. Why did I ever think life was so simple?'

She felt like crying her frustration out, but seeing Sam's hunched back, his searching hand, she found she couldn't let herself do it. Instead of letting herself succumb to self-pity, she reached out her hand and slipped it into his. His hand gripped hers like he was clinging to the edge of a cliff, about to fall. His, cold and clammy, dwarfed hers and she entwined her fingers in his. His grip hurt her hand but she bore it without complaint this time.

The pain seemed to somehow clear her mind. 'What caused him to act like this?' She asked herself, looking at their surroundings for something. 'Ever since he returned from the forest he has been different, but he looked sane enough earlier... He's had a few odd moments where he stares into the distance, but I just thought he was thinking about something. Could that be something else?' All of these thoughts passed in a second as she took in the passing buildings and people on the streets.

The buildings, much like in Crestell, were becoming taller and more diverse in design the closer they came to the center. Intricately carved woods of various shades and textures were used to complement each other magnificently. Even the people were more fancifully dressed in their elaborately woven, vibrant dresses. All their expressions of respect and joy were tinged with a splash of confusion.

Then, Sam suddenly turned to her. His icy blue gaze met hers and she sucked in a breath. The wild look of panic in his expressive eyes was enough to send a shiver down her spine, and it nearly sent her back down the same spiral. His eyes seemed to shake and several muscles in his face twitched rapidly. Dettella tried to think of something to say, something to ease his unstable mind. Then she remembered what had seemed to help before.

She slid closer to him, reached an arm behind his head and pulled him into a kiss. It was shaky, awkward and a bit too wet for her taste, but she held his lips to hers tightly nevertheless. On the sides of the road, elves whooped, clapped and whistled. They were riding closer and closer to the great Tower of Eifren and no matter what race, nobles always like a good royal romance. Eventually, Sam pulled away and threw up bile over to the side of the carriage.

He turned back, grimacing and wiping his mouth with the cuff of his fine coat. "That... I didn't do that because of you." He said quietly.

Dettella chuckled softly. "I would hope not," She said. "I must say, it seems like most of our kisses occur whenever you break down like that. I think it would be healthier for both of us to try to do that more than just when it's useful as a 'kiss of life', so to speak."

Sam's face was a sickly pale still, and although his eyes no longer displayed the madness so prominently, they were quite hollow. He tried to laugh with her, but it was clearly forced. "I'm becoming weary of all of this fear, all of this pain." He whispered to her, nearly inaudible over the wind. He lifted his right hand to observe its trembling. "Sometimes I feel like a broken mirror, barely held together by it's thin frame. Do you understand that?"

Despite no longer being in one of his 'breakdowns', as Dettella was beginning to think of these moments, Sam seemed to be in a sort of fragile state of mind. This had happened before too. "No... I cannot claim to understand." She replied, quickly adopting his grim mood.

He nodded. "I suppose you wouldn't..." Then he asked, "Do you really like me, Dettella?"

It took her completely by surprise. "Wha-What do you mean?" She asked, trying to give herself some time to process it.

"Do you truly, as you say, 'fancy' me?" He said, turning to look straight ahead now. "Sometimes I wonder. Due to the way you look at me sometimes. Like something interesting, rather than someone you are fond of."

Dettella felt that if she were to say no that it might destroy him, and a very sinister part of her curiosity wondered what that would be like. 'No. For as long as I live, I will never let that happen. My curiosity will not master me any longer.' She thought. So, she just told him the truth. "I do like you Sam. I do fancy you. For a short time I questioned it, but I realized it was just my guilt at being overly curious about some... dark things. Many times my curiosity has dominated me in the past, so that is probably what you saw, but I promise that I do have feelings for you."

Sam let out a relieved sigh and began to massage his hands in his lap. "It is... reassuring to hear that." He said, smiling very faintly. "I have worried about it a bit for a little while. In return, I'll tell you something. Though I'm fairly certain you've already figured out what it is."

Dettella stiffened looking intently at the profile of Sam's face. Her curiosity was strong, but she resisted it enough to let him tell her in his own way. A moment later, he continued. "I am not from this world, I am an 'other' as the people here tend to call it. I'd guess it was pretty obvious with my obvious nescience of many things that are probably fairly standard knowledge here."

'It is true! Ah, I have so much to ask! No no, now isn't the time.' Dettella nodded and her eyes were focused on her hands, now grasping her knees through her dress. She looked back up and met his eyes as he turned toward her. "You're right that I guessed it already," She said, "but it warms me inside that you trusted me enough to tell me of your own accord."

He smiled slightly again. "There's much more that I'd like to tell you, but we don't have the time right now. Perhaps after we've been situated here. I'll put my trust in these negotiation abilities you're so proud of, so once it's done and Theo is getting healed, we will talk about more of my secrets."

"I will succeed, one way or another. I promise." She replied, feeling the rising anticipation once again. 

Sam turned his gaze back forward, and she followed suit. That was when she realized how close they were to the tower now. Less than a hundred feet ahead stood the tall, crenelated, elnelwood castle surrounding the base of the Tower of Eifren. The tower and castle were a matching dark, pastel blue. Even from a distance, Dettella could see the intricate carvings scaling the tower, and she wondered how long such a masterpiece must have taken to create.

She shuddered in excitement as they neared the castle gate. Much like the great outer wall, the double doored entrance had the queen's seal carved in the heavy wood. She glanced at Sam again and marveled at the utter indifference in his expression as he looked upon the magnificence of the tower. 'He looks so... unimpressed? How strange. Perhaps that's just because he is still melancholy after the breakdown.'

Dettella took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the test ahead. Darrel caught her eye as he sped up to ride ahead of them. He nodded to her and seemed to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, glancing at Sam then back at her. She didn't know exactly what he was asking, but she nodded reassuringly to him. The carriage began to slow as they reached the gate, and the queen's guard stopped with them.

Each of the four guards pulled out a small flag, all a different color. They waved them, and a moment later the gates began to open inward. The carriage moved forth once again, and they were inside the castle grounds. 

'We made it.' Dettella thought, and smiled.

———

Sam looked around himself, trying to figure out where he was. 'What? How did I get here? I was just in the carriage and now?' His eyes rapidly scanned his surroundings, taking in every face in the crowd of elves. He was standing in a stadium. The open roof revealed a night sky. 'Why am I in an arena?'

Then he realized that he was standing almost directly in the center. He was standing on a firmly cushioned mat of some sort. 'I'm not a spectator then...' He thought, looking down at himself. He had a pair of dark blue pants on, no shoes, and was bare-chested. Then he saw more movement on the mat. It was a short man. No, an elf. He was clad in dark red pants, matching Sam's blue ones.

The short man had dark red hair and skin of a smoky tan color. He was dense with muscle and had a glazed over look in his eye, like he'd had one too many concussions. His nose had clearly been broken more than once as well. It added a certain twisted ugliness to what would've been an 'average joe' sort of face. Even with that nose though, the elf might have pulled off some form of normal if not for the missing eyebrows.

"What is going on...?" Sam muttered, looking around bewildered. He clenched his fists, feeling the gauzy cloth wrapped around them. As he turned about, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Dettella was high up on a balcony, waving down at him excitedly. No... Not excited, more like anxious. Standing to her right was Giela, and to her left stood another elf who Sam recognized as the queen. "Wait, the queen? I haven't even met her yet! Seriously, what the fuck is going on...?"




Bound in Spirals Ch. 13



The roar of the crowd drowned out all of his words. Another elf in a fully black suit stepped onto the mat, looking at the both of them. Apparently the aristocratic looking man didn't recognize the confusion in Sam's face as he looked past him. He raised his hands toward the crowd, quieting them enough to have his words heard.

"In Geylin, we all know the rules of pugilism of course," He said to the crowd who roared in return. He silenced them again with a wave of his bejeweled black cane. "Yes, we all know them. But these two dashing young men might not, so I will explain it."

"Please, tell me why I'm here!" Sam shouted over the crowds raucous laughter and shouting.

"Why, we're here for a fight of course!" The noble elf boomed, he winked at Sam and gestured about the grand stadium as the crowd whooped again.

Sam stood there, unable to comprehend his situation at all. 'A fight?' He could hardly think as the thundering cheers and jeers swept over him, pounding away any sense of understanding he could have conjured up. He didn't move. He didn't think. He just stared at his cloth wrapped palms, shaking as they were, and hoped for some salvation.

—————

Thus ends Chapter 13. I hope you guys enjoyed! I really had fun writing this chapter, especially Sam's breakdown(sorry Sam, I'm not trying to be a sadist, but it's fun to write your insanities). Anyways, I hope you all had a great holiday and a happy new year!

P.S. With Ed's retirement, I'm looking for more help. Preferably someone who is fairly confident in their editing, and hopefully someone who likes the story(though it'd be odd for you to read this far if you didn't find some sort of fulfillment in it). Perks include: Getting the chapter close to 3 weeks earlier, a 28% raise, and the joy of knowing you can read good*. Shoot me an email if you're interested!

(*read: well)



Bound in Spirals Ch. 14



Here's chapter 14 folks.

Special thanks to Nick for his thorough help in editing this chapter.

Enjoy!

 —————

"My lords and ladies, merchants and knights! Please, allow me to quickly state the rules." The finely dressed elf said as he twirled on the mat, flourishing with his coat. 

Sam's gaze turned up from his hands, and once more he hurriedly looked around for someone he recognized. Again he saw Dettella's worried expression as she spoke to Giela rapidly. He realized that the balcony they stood on wrapped all the way around the arena. It was filled with elves in overly elaborate clothes and expensive looking hats. He noted that the majority were women, and the only human he could see was Dettella.

'Darrel! Where's Darrel?!' The man was nowhere to be seen on the balcony. Sam's attention was brought back down as the black-suited elf spoke again.

"There are four rules the fighters must know! Rule number one! You may only use fists to attack! Rule number two! You may only hit above the waist!" The man paused to settle the crowd once again as they got too loud. "Rule number three! You may not cross onto your opponent's side of the mat for longer than three seconds! Rule number four! The final rule; you may not use magic until at least one of the contestants is judged to be defeated!"

Sam looked down, and realized that the mat had two colored halves. His side was dark blue, the other was dark red. 'Am I really going to have to fight this dude? I'll get my ass kicked! Crap, what do I do?! I can't just run away, Dettella's up there watching! Shit, maybe I should do it anyway! I really don't understand what's going on! I—'

"With that, let the match begin!" The elf bowed smoothly and stepped off the mat.

His opponent lumbered forward, glaring at him through his nonexistent eyebrows. 

"Well, fuck me..." Sam muttered, and began to walk forward slowly, bringing up his fists. 

Being as distracted as he was, he didn't react nearly quick enough when the first blow came. The feeling of a barely covered fist hitting his jaw was quite a shock, to say the least. The pain didn't come at first, just the sudden jarring movement as his head snapped back. He fell straight backward, already unconscious as he hit the mat. He woke almost immediately to the reverberating roar of the crowd.

He was hit a second time, and although it wasn't physical it was just as jarring. The memories slammed into his mind ruthlessly, and he recalled some of the things that had happened. 

Unsurprisingly, Sam was feeling quite depressed following his most recent bout of madness. Seeing the verdant green of Dettella's eyes had mostly woken him from the spiraling insanity, but the kiss had been a good way to ensure that the spell was completely broken for now. After telling her the truth of where he had come from, he sat in silent reflection.

In such a mood, Sam found no more delight in the beautiful city. The oversized mansions and elaborate decor just seemed excessive now, as did the people browsing that part of the city in their garish clothing. He now saw the straining smiles and forced cheering for what they were, a facade. Well, most of them were anyway. Some of the elves seemed genuinely happy to see them, but it was not nearly as many as he'd first assumed. The joyous children, of course, were true to their feelings in the innocent way they all are, yet untainted by the prejudices of the world.

He let out a breath as they approached the castle gates and, despite his subdued state, Sam felt a very faint flutter of anticipation in his stomach. 'I can't let my damned self-pity get in the way. I will trust Dettella to do her part, but I must be ready to assist if necessary.' The gates began to open as they slowed. They continued into the castle before coming to a complete stop. 

The great courtyard was lined with the queen's guardsmen on either side, stood with a variety of swords pressed flat across their chests in a salute of some sort. Despite their shorter stature they emanated an imposing strength. The majority of them were men, but there were a few women scattered among the ranks. They stood stock-still as the carriage rolled slowly past, not even following them with their eyes.

Sam glanced at Darrel and saw him nod approvingly as he scanned the group of soldiers. Dettella just looked around with eyes full of wonderment, though he wasn't sure whether it was from the soldiers or the castle surrounding them. Sam's hand unwittingly moved to his sword's hilt and he was comforted by it's feel in his palm. The soft black leather gripped his fingertips slightly as he caressed the handle and he let out a trembling breath, releasing some of his tension with it.

He blinked, realizing that time had passed quickly again. His eyes flicked around rapidly, taking in the base of the tower as they stopped. They were at the bottom of a set of wide stairs leading to the great black doors set into the first layer of the tower. Sam, still dazed, stepped off the front seat of the carriage, turning instinctively to help Dettella down after him. She smiled at him and took his hand, gracefully stepping onto the stone ground.

A few minutes after dismounting, they led up the stairs by four guardsmen. The front door began to open slowly and silently as they approached. Sam had had his fill of enormous entrances for one day, and found this one to be unimpressive despite the magnificent carving of the queen's symbol glowing with bright blue binding magic set into it. The guards stepped to the side and let them pass. 

The man Giela had spoken to earlier said a few soft words into her ear and she nodded. The instant they stepped into the tower a pair of servants appeared. They bowed and spoke, directing their words at Giela. Keeping his knowledge of the language a secret would be a useful advantage to have, so he kept his mouth shut. Though through experience he doubted he could keep it for long.

"We will guide your mistress and her man to the floors we have reserved for them."

 Sam's surprise was shown only in the faint twitch of his left eye. With that, they were led into the tower...

Sam shuffled back from the man, trying to blink away the haze over his eyes. 'Shit!' The memories that had suddenly begun to flood back were nearly as disorienting as the fist greeting his jaw. He slowly stood, shifting his jaw as he rose. 'Damn it! Focus! I need to pay attention!' He shook his head, groaning at the thumping headache already starting to pain him.

Outside the walls of his mind, the faint sound of the crowds hurled insults began to register. Oddly, just as many seemed to be aimed at his opponent as at him. 'I see... Mountain elf.' He thought, still trying to shake away his dizziness. 'Damn, he really clocked me, didn't he?' Suddenly, a cold anger rose unbidden within him. Distantly, he thought it strange; anger wasn't all that common for him aside from recent thoughts of his family. Frustration and annoyance, certainly, but not true anger.

"Why the fuck am I here?! How on earth did I end up in this mess?!" Sam growled quietly. He took a deep breath. 'Calm down. I need to be clearheaded. What advantages do I have here? Range certainly. Perhaps speed, but not power. I'll have to use my longer range then and be aware of the line.'

"Blue loses a point for delaying!" The elf in the black suit shouted, his sonorous voice booming over the raucous crowd.

'Fuck you. Explain the rules better next time, asshole.' Sam thought, glaring at the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone flip a score card. '7 - 10. It's a countdown to zero?'

He turned his attention back to his opponent who waited in a defensive stance with his fists raised to block his face. 'Too short for me to get any decent hits on his torso... Head seems easiest.' The man glanced toward the announcer for a split second and by the time his eyes had moved back Sam had already sprung. Sam twisted his hips, getting as much power as he could out of his first punch.

The elf held firm, and he would have deflected the blow had Sam not shifted his aim from the nose at the last second. He lost some power, but his fist struck the man straight in the center of his forehead. The shorter man stumbled back, his eyes looking even more glazed than before. He fell on his backside, but he managed to rise shakily to his feet a second later.

'Shit. I'm an idiot.' Sam thought, looking down at his shattered right hand. Gripping his wrist he hissed in pain. "Ghahhh! Damn that fucking hurts!"

His index and middle fingers were clearly broken. A small, sharp piece of blood coated bone protruded from the back of his hand in line with his middle finger. Gritting his teeth, Sam stood straight again, still carrying his right arm gingerly. 'Damn it. Broken right hand against a clearly experienced fighter? Yeah right. It'd take a hell of a lot of luck, and lady luck has never been particularly fond of me. Wouldn't expect her to start now.'

He waited for the elf to be ready again, still unsure of how he would manage. 'Why should I even try to win here? I can just forfeit, right? If I can't do that, then I could just delay until they take away all of my points. If that doesn't work I could take a hit and pretend to be down. I'll just give up, no need to continue on like...' More memories began to slam into him.

"Just up here." Giela said over her shoulder as they reached the bottom of another flight of stairs.

Sam shook his head. 'What? How many stairs have we climbed? I need to stop zoning out like that...'

"Samson, isn't this tower wonderful?" Dettella said, looking at him with eyes full of excitement. "Each floor represents a different era for the elves. Every time a new queen is crowned a new floor is built for her and the outside is carved to her specifications. It takes decades to complete due to the time it takes to carve elnelwood; it's nearly as strong as steel, while being only half the weight."

"Ah, yes. Wonderful. Of course." He replied absently.

"...You're not paying attention." She said, pursing her lips.

"Not really. Sorry. I'm feeling a bit out of sorts right now."

"Yes, I can tell." She said softly, a tinge of her concern leaking into her words. "Well, perhaps a warm bath will help. I find it's easier to concentrate when I'm clean."

Sam nodded, still not paying her his full attention. One of their guides turned and spoke softly to Giela again.

"Alright, this is the floor Lord Samson will stay on. Along with Fenella, Vielchena, and Theodore." Giela said. "Milady, we will be staying on the next floor. Er... Sir Darrel will be with us as well, I suppose."

Sam turned from them as they headed up to the next floor, not hearing Dettella's words. He walked through the arched entryway, not seeing the gilded leaf patterns inlaid into the wall, nor the lavish furniture of a vivid dark green, not even the grand ivory throne set into the center at the end of the grand main hall. He felt so out of himself that he didn't even think to check on Theodore as Darrel carried him in.

The next thing he knew he was sat in a big polished wooden basin, scrubbing the dirt from his skin. He held soap smelling of spiced rum in his left hand and a washcloth colored like old parchment in his right. He continued to clean himself, uncaring of the elf handmaiden standing only a few yards away. He was self-aware enough to realize he was in a dangerous mood. Not only could the inattentiveness of this odd brooding imperil himself, but it could ruin the chance to get Theodore healed.

Despite that thought, he couldn't shake it off. The feeling of impassivity was overpowering any emotion he tried to dredge up. The only thing that came close was the self-hatred that arose at this, but even that was engulfed by the black hole of utter emptiness he felt. 'Why? Why do I feel this way? Is it some sort of hopelessness? If it is, then why? Why am I hopeless? I have Dettella, Letta, and Theodore. There is a lot I have to hope for. So why? Perhaps that's not it then. Is this another side effect of the madness? I don't know... I don't know anything...

'I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know? I don't understand? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? ...Prophecy? No? ...Hanged? Me?I?I?! ...I am hanged? ...12 spikes dig into my neck and I bleed to my toes? Why? ...Must keep walking? ...Change? ...Death? ...Stagnation? ...Not me, no. What is this? ...The 15 spins round and round? ...Ah. The spikes, they hurt? ...They hurt me deeply? ...The spikes of truth? ...The truth hurts me? ...My hand? ...Where? ...Given to who? ...What do I do? ...What, what? ...Someone tell me... I can't... No... Please, Please, Pleeeasse'

Then he was suddenly alright. Sam stood next to Dettella again, with his emotions seeming to have returned. A rush of anxiety blew through him as he realized where he was. His legs ached after climbing so many stairs. His clothes had apparently been cleaned recently, as they had a very faint dampness to them still. His sword rested at his hip again, and his cloak felt heavy on his shoulders. When he turned his head to look at Dettella, he didn't feel the scratching of his whiskers against his neck.

He sucked in a quick gasp of air as he saw her. She seemed to radiate, which he imagined was caused by both her bath and the excitement that almost vibrated the air around her. Her hair looked a little more golden, and her smile was bright and genuine. He slowly turned his head again, looking back up at the tall oval shaped door. The carvings decorating the pale, purple colored wood seemed to be reversed somehow. The pattern stuck out of the wood, rather than being set into it.

The carving depicted a great hoshind made with a pattern of tree needles in place of fur. It was the best carving Sam had seen since meeting the tree, yet it still couldn't come close in intricacy.

"Samson, I asked if you were ready?" Dettella said beside him.

"Huh? U-uh yeah. I'm, um, I'm fine." He said softly, trying to remember everything that had happened. Looking around, he saw Darrel behind them and felt some relief at his presence. Though he wasn't so relieved to see Fenella there as well. "I'll be fine... Yes, yes. I'm good. I'm alright. Just a little tired."

The so-called herbalist clicked her tongue at him disappointedly as if to say, 'you can do better than that'. Both the high guardsman and the healer seemed to have cleaned up, too. Fenella's tightly curled brown hair looked glossier and less matted, and Darrel's thick, steely beard had been trimmed smartly. Sam ran a hand through his hair and was surprised to find it had been trimmed as well.

"Good. Giela, please let them know we are ready." Dettella said, smiling broadly. She leaned toward Sam and whispered into his ear, "Make sure you kneel to her when we are introduced. Only one knee should be necessary. 

"I-Is that all?" Sam whispered nervously.

"Yes, that will be fine." She replied. "Ahh, I'm so very excited! I feel like a little girl again!"

An elf in a tame suit of dark purple slowly pushed the heavy door open, then she began to speak "The Princess Dettella Reyall of Crestell and Lord Samson Wallace of Oregon. Accompanying them are Giela Maegdien of Geylin, the herbalist Fenella Ranlenn of Eltinn, and the sword captain Darrel Vanetiell of Crestell."

 The elf stepped aside and bowed low as they stepped into the grand hall. Sam was left dumbstruck by the sight of the elf queen. She was the most elegant woman he'd ever seen. Sea foam hair cascaded down her shoulders falling all the way to the small of her back, its luster comparable to that of a crystal. A relaxed smile split her perfect face, genuine in it's warmth. The mint green dress she wore was opulent yet simplistic in design. The neckline exposed the barest amount of her modest cleavage and the slinky fabric accentuated her curvature by clinging to it as she moved.

Yet her beauty was not what captured his attention so intensely, it was the power that seemed to radiate from her. Not in the sense of a queenly presence, but in a magical sense. It felt like calm ocean waves lapping at his bare feet, and just as tangible. Her gaze rolled over them, stopping briefly on Dettella, then stopping on him for an even longer time. In that moment, her pale, blue-gray eyes seemed to see through him utterly, and her smile grew broader. 

As it passed over him and reached Darrel, she raised an eyebrow at him. Darrel did not react. She spread her arms wide, turning her gaze back to Dettella. "Welcome to my home. I am grateful to have such a group of interesting guests." Elleifren spoke with the type of voice that pleases the ears. Sultry and smoothly accented. Not unlike Dettella's, though the princess did not have quite the same undertone of sensuality. "A letter sent in advance would have been appreciated, but I understand that you were in a bind of sorts."

Dettella curtsied gracefully and Sam quickly knelt. Giela fell to her knees, lowering her head to the ground. Darrel followed suit, as did Fenella. The queen stepped off her dais and approached with a grace matching Dettella's.

"Please, no need for this." She said, bending down to take Sam's hand. "Please rise, Samson. No need for the bowing, especially between equals."

Sam shivered at her touch, standing shakily. "W-Wow..." He muttered.

She shuffled left and took Dettella's hand in her other. "Princess Dettella, you need show me no deference either." She squeezed their hands gently then released them. She then stepped between them toward Giela. "My dear, please stand. Your mother is excited to see you, you know. I will try not to keep you from your reunion for too long."

She helped the handmaiden to rise and brushed the tears from the elf's eyes. For her part, Giela looked like she was on the verge of losing consciousness. The queen then released her and stepped to Fenella. "Who do we have here? Do you know? So mutable. How intriguing..." Elleifren helped the liar to her feet and patted her shoulder reassuringly. Chuckling softly, she said, "Worry not, herbalist. I'll say no more."

Finally, she turned to Darrel. She helped him to rise as well, then looked up into his steely eyes. "Ah, I understand..." She said, reaching up to caress his cheek. His eye twitched ever so slightly as her hand touched. "Well, we'll see what I can do about that. Oh, I am becoming distracted. Please be at ease, all of you. We have much to discuss."

As the queen strode back to her previous place at the dais, Sam tried to formulate some semblance of a coherent thought. His hand still felt warm from her touch. In the moment when she'd gently squeezed his hand, a feeling of complete comfort and safety had burst through him. It had utterly cleansed him of his worries, though they were already beginning to resurface.

"Would you like to see my breasts?" The queen asked casually.

'What?!' Sam's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he noticed no one else was reacting.

"Haha. Worry not, Samson. I was just looking to see who knows my language." Elleifren said.

He was left so off balance that he had difficulty replying for a moment. Dettella looked at him questioningly. 'Damn.' Finally he managed to speak. "O-Oh, I don't know the language. I, I just recognized one of the words you used."

"Ooh, a clever reply. But you wouldn't have been able to pick out the word you say you recognized. Because the accent here makes it nearly impossible to recognize the root word without understanding the entire sentence." She smiled. "A worthy attempt though, considering you were on the spot. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone outside of this room. You might yet get to use that advantage."




Bound in Spirals Ch. 14



After a moment he said, "Then I concede."

"Ooh, very fluent. A nice surprise." She grinned. "Anyways, on to matters of import. I hear you were involved in the killing of some of my subjects. I assume you have an explanation prepared?"

Sam shuffled uncomfortably, made even more awkward by his boots squeaking on the polished blue marble floor. 

He blinked, and suddenly Dettella was speaking. "—defense, I assure you. We would not have acted in such manner were it not necessary." She finished.

"I understand, yet— Hm? Is something wrong?" The queen looked at Sam as he stumbled to the right, clutching his head.

"A-Ah, just... just a dizzy spell. I'm alright." He replied hurriedly, waving his hand reassuringly. "Don't... don't mind me, please continue."

Dettella frowned worriedly at him. "Are you sure? You look quite pale."

"A-Ah, I think... I think I just need some water." He replied, trying to smile.

"Dheina, please fetch some refreshments for our guests." Elleifren said to the purple suited servant. "Bring in a few chairs while you're at it."

Sam gripped the hilt of his sword as tightly as he could. 'What the hell is going on with me? I keep having blanks in my mind!' He shook his head. 'Is this something to do with what the tree did to me?' 

"Samson?" Dettella looked at him oddly. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Huh?" Sam looked around and realized the elf had already returned with chairs. On a tray she carried a tray of various colored drinks. Everyone was already seated around him. "A-Ah, sorry. Still a little dizzy I suppose."

"Well then, if that's settled we can return to the discussion." The queen said, looking at Sam with a strange expression. A mix of confusion and concern, and yet there was a hint of empathy in the creasing of her face.

Sam's trembling hands took the glass of chilled blue liquid and he nodded gratefully to the elf as he sat carefully. "Yes, I had just finished telling what had happened and our reasons behind our actions." Dettella replied.

Sam nearly fumbled the glass out of his hands at her words. 'What?! She explained all of it?!'

"Samson, you should drink some before you spill it everywhere." Dettella said softly, leaning over to him. Even more softly she said, "Are you sure you really are alright? I am sure the queen would be gracious enough to let you go rest if you need it."

"N-No... no, I'll be fine." He said urgently, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I need to be here for this."

She nodded in understanding. "Queen Elleifren, let us continue." Suddenly Dettella had a slightly predatory glint in her eyes as she looked to the queen. The princess sat straight-backed, cool-faced, and the atmosphere changed around her. Her commanding presence seemed impossible to ignore. It was a glimpse into what she would have been had she ascended the throne instead of her sister. Sam couldn't help but admire her confidence in that moment. And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel some apprehension as well.

'This is what she wanted, right? A challenge?' He thought, looking at the princess over his glass. Then he glanced at the queen and, for a moment, saw the reason Dettella was so excited. The elven queen was completely calm. Her own aura of command outweighing even the princess', and was the embodiment of dignified regality. 'Looking at this, I can't help but think Dettella is the caterpillar and Elleifren is the butterfly. This queen is what she aspires to become... or perhaps there's more to it.'

"Ah... I must apologize." The queen said, brushing a lock of hair behind her pointed ear. "I'm afraid I can't give you the argument you were looking forward to. I'm giving you an ultimatum."

Dettella flinched as if she'd been struck. "I... I see. What are these terms?"

"I will be borrowing your man for a night," She stated coolly. "Or you will return to Crestell immediately."

This time Sam did drop his glass. 'No no no no, I can't. I... I can't.' His body shook convulsively against his will. Fear and revulsion hit him like a flying brick to the back of the head, and he couldn't see where it had come from. His right eye twitched spasmodically as he suddenly turned and saw who had thrown the brick. 'Madeline! No no no no no no no. I'll kill her. I'll kill her! Not again, not again. Don't touch me! Cut... Cut her neck. Break it. Break it! I'll do it... I'll do it...'

He felt two hands grasp him at once. One he immediately recognized as Dettella's, and the other seemed to belong to the queen. His eyes regained focus and he saw that they were both kneeling over him, and that he had fallen from his chair. He felt shards of glass piercing his cheek and some had cut through his coat and into his shoulder. A slow wave of calm swept over him, taking the negative emotions with it.

Dettella looked frantically into his eyes. "Samson! What is it?! What happened?!"

"A-Ah... just... just the usual, of course. No need to... to worry." He replied, forcing a smile. Though it was more of a grimace than what he'd aimed for.

Dettella whirled on Elleifren, wearing a fiercer glare than any Sam had seen. "You!" Her face contorted into confusion a moment later. "What...?"

Sam felt a warm drop hit his nose and roll down his cheek. He looked up at the source. "Why...? Why are you crying?" He imagined his expression of bewilderment was the same as Dettella's at that point.

The queen trembled and her grip on Sam's arm tightened. The elf servant, Dheina, hurried over to her. "My queen! What is the matter?!"

"I-I'm fine Dheina. It's just my... my ability again." Elleifren took a quivering breath and brushed the tears from her eyes. She slowly released her grip and stood. "Ah... this is my fault. I... I should have been more clear in my phrasing. The northern human tongue makes it difficult for me to be concise at times. I did not mean Samson, I was referring to your loyal sword captain."

'I see...'

Darrel stood sharply. "I refuse." He said, his voice startlingly angry.

Dettella's expression looked somewhat relieved, but still troubled as she turned to Darrel. It was utterly silent for a long time as no one knew how to react. For his part, Sam carefully pushed himself to his knees and began to pull some of the larger shards of glass from his shoulder. When he'd removed most of them, he summoned his magic and the last tiny pieces were pushed out of his skin as it sealed. The falling pieces tinkled against the floor, and Sam frantically released his hold on the magic; afraid of holding it too long.

Finally, Dettella spoke, "I understand. I will not order you to do it, but I must ask you to reconsider..."

Darrel's left eye twitched and he didn't respond immediately. He glanced at Sam for a moment and seemed to come to a decision. Sam realized then, that Theodore's life had been riding on Darrel's decision, perhaps even Dettella's life as well. Through gritted teeth Darrel said, "Very well. In the interests of both you and Samson, I will do this..."

A huge crash of relief pounded into Sam and he let out a shaky breath. 'I'll make sure to thank him later...' He thought. He got to his feet, righting his fallen chair as he rose. He slowly removed his coat which was now soaked in his spilt drink.

"Thank you Darrel, your sacrifice will be appreciated." Dettella said, giving him a slight bow.

'Why did you say that as if he's gonna die...? He's not gonna die, is he? No, no. He won't die.' Sam thought as he rubbed at his temples. 'My mind is really uncooperative today. It's probably a Tuesday. Tuesdays are never good for me.'

"Well, now that that is decided..." The queen said, turning to her servant. "Dheina, would you lead these three back to their respective floors for the time being? I have more to discuss with Samson but the others won't need to be here for that. Ah, and let dear Zierel retire for the day. I imagine she would like to meet with her daughter."

The servant bowed and quickly began shepherding them out, leaving only Sam, Dettella, and the queen in the room. Fenella tried to turn back and say something, but Dheina shut the door before she could get it out. Elleifren waited a moment then let out a sigh of relief.

"Phew... Thank goodness they are gone! I was starting to get a headache with all of those intense emotions in one room." She said, sitting back heavily into one of the extra chairs Dheina had brought. "Bah! I'm probably not making any sense... Please sit, I just need a moment to collect my thoughts."

Sam slowly sat back into his chair, folding his coat carefully over his lap. Dettella sat next to him again, looking at the queen hesitantly. "Queen Elleifren—"

"You may call me Ellei." Elleifren said.

"Er... Then, Ellei, why did you keep just us two here?"

"Well, first I figured I would talk to Samson about his friend." She replied.

Sam stiffened and his head whipped toward her, his eyes intent. "Theodore—! I—! He needs—!" His mouth was moving too slowly to keep up with his thoughts and the words ended up coming out in a jumbled mess of incoherence.

"Yes, yes, don't worry. I will make sure he is helped. Please settle down though." The queen said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Wha?! What... What do you mean?" He frowned, trying to calm himself. "Why would you help us for free?"

"Well, let me say that I only set the ultimatum earlier because it was the only way to get Darrel to accept my help. I wouldn't have really forced you to leave." Elleifren said bringing her hands back to her lap and sitting straighter. "You see, he had some issues in his past... Well I won't divulge too much. To put it simply I think I can help him, but if I had simply asked him plainly he would have refused. I regret to have had to do it this way, but I used his sense of duty and his protectiveness over you two to force his acquiescence."

'I don't like it.' Sam thought, 'It feels wrong...'

"I can understand why you wouldn't approve, Samson, but I felt that it was the best way to handle it considering the circumstances."

Dettella was still looking at the queen hesitantly, but now a spark of curiosity lit her eyes. "How do you know so much? It seems almost as if you can read our minds."

"...Something like that. I can explain that later, for now we'll talk of Samson's friend." The queen said. Her deep blue eyes turned to him, "I will have him healed either way, but I have a proposition for you. In his condition I am not certain how effectively our mages can restore his legs, so I am willing to add my own power toward healing him if you will do something for me in return."

Sam blinked, trying to make sense of her words. "...You're not going to force me to do the same as Darrel, right...?" He shuddered involuntarily.

"No! No, no." She laughed gently, glancing briefly at the suddenly even more intent princess. "I had considered offering the option in order to help relieve some of your... traumatic experiences, but having met you up close now... I just don't think I could help you, not in that regard anyway. I will leave that to the princess. I mean something else; have you heard of our sport, pugilism?"

"You mean... like... boxing?" Sam asked, his sudden relief turning into confusion.

"No, pugilism, not packaging." She replied.

"Uh... Yeah..." Sam scratched his head for a moment. 'Is boxing not a thing here...? Probably not.' He thought for a moment. "Pugilism is just fighting barehanded without any protection or anything, right?"

"Yes, there you go." She said, smiling broadly. "Anyway, what I would like you to do, is fight in some of our official matches. My noble people tend to get excited when a foreign visitor joins in, so it would create good revenue and could even help you to grow stronger. And of course, I will make certain that your friend will be able to walk again in return."

"I'll do it." He replied as soon as she finished.

She smiled with real warmth. "You don't even want to ask how many fights you need to participate in?"

"I don't care." He said, feeling a pounding excitement in his chest. "If Theo will be healed properly I'll fight a hundred fights if necessary."

"Well, let's just see how you perform in the first one..." Elleifren said.

Sam stumbled as the torrent of memories finally ceased. "Damn..." He muttered under his breath. He nearly brought his right hand up to hold his head straight, but he was quickly reminded of it's crumpled state. '8 - 9...' He thought, glancing at the scorecards.

He stood straighter as the mountain elf approached the center again. His darkly tanned skin already glistened with sweat. A rivulet of blood trickled over his brow and to the left of his twisted nose. The man smeared it about as he wiped his face with the cloth around his hand.

'With my hand like this I'll have to use my range and hope my left arm will be enough to do some damage...' Sam stepped forward and met the man at the center. For a moment they just stared each other down. The elf's dark eyes were intense despite the unfocused look to them. Sam's eyes were clear, and a faint wolfish ferocity resided somewhere in the back of them.

The elf moved first, swinging his left fist at Sam's unprotected cheek. Moving with surprising speed, Sam ducked under the blow and slammed his left hand into the elf's stomach. The elf managed to clench his abdominal muscles just before he hit, taking away much of the effectiveness. Sam quickly jumped back, just out of the elf's range. Before the man could react Sam was in again, sliding his fist past the elf's arm and into his ribs.

He jumped away before the the elf could counter. He needn't have worried, the man hadn't even tried. The elf grunted as he grabbed at his side. 'Did I break a rib?' Sam wondered as he watched the elf slowly stand straight again.

The elf jumped forward faster than Sam would have credited him capable of. A flash of skin color skimmed past Sam's face, barely missing him as he stepped back to avoid it. The elf stumbled forward with the momentum of his punch and fell into Sam's half of the mat.

"Red loses a point for crossing the line!" The smooth speaking elf shouted over the crowd.

The elf gradually rose, growling lowly as he stepped back onto his side. 'I think he's getting slower than he was earlier... Did I give him a concussion?' Sam wondered as his opponent swayed like he was on a boat. 'I should end this soon... For both of our sakes.'

Sam stepped forward again and lunged quickly, shooting for the man's nose once again. The elf shoved his fist aside and countered, aiming for Sam's jaw. Tilting his neck, Sam avoided the fist and struck for the elf's cheek, not bothering to realize he was swinging his right hand. As he did, he pulled just out of the elf's range. His fist missed it's mark, instead slamming straight into his foe's neck. Sam pulled back his utterly shredded hand, and let out a howl.

The elf stumbled backward for a moment before falling down. He didn't move beyond his heavy breathing, and Sam felt himself hoping vehemently that he wouldn't get up again. Sparing a glance for the scorecards, he saw that it was now 8 - 7 in his favor. Over a minute passed with no movement from his opponent and the scorekeeper removed another point, making it 8 - 6. Finally, the elf began to stir.

Then something bizarre happened. The elf's chest shifted as if something was moving beneath it and he roared with rage. His skin stretched as bone moved under it. His body seemed to grow larger before Sam's eyes, huge plates of bone clicking into place beneath the elf's skin. Then the skin began to peel away, sliding into the cracks between the dark grey carapace that was revealed. The man's legs grew longer and split, more bones snapping into place beneath skin. Then, that skin too was pulled back and the insectile limbs beneath were exposed.

"What in the fuck?!" Sam was so stunned that he didn't even think to move as the creature rose.

Six spiny legs clacked against the ground. Sam's head slowly looked up to meet the clouded gaze of the creature. A rapid hissing and clicking thundered from the monster's mandibles and mouth. Flecks of saliva splattered against Sam's chest. The huge insect reminded Sam of the potato bug his father had once caught for him, only this one was the size of a minivan and had mandibles capable of crushing his head.

The enormous bug's abdomen rose a foot off the ground as it sped toward him. Sam barely managed to leap out of it's path as it lunged for him. Without realizing, he landed with most of his weight on his right hand. He growled in mingled frustration and pain as he jumped to his feet, already summoning his magic. 'Well, I guess the rules don't really count much anymore...' Gold and silver spirals bloomed to life in the back of his mind. He grunted as the sharp bones in his hand shifted back through the muscle and the flesh knitted itself back together.

Everything happened so fast that Sam hadn't even realized the crowd's boisterous cheers had become screams of terror. 'Sword! I need a sword!' He thought, searching frantically for help.

The dark suited nobleman cried out as he turned to flee, "SCARANLOS!"

 At the same time, the massive insect turned towards the elf and charged. Crunch! Dark blood and pieces of brain splattered against the stone floor. Sam could hear the gruesome sounds of the creature chewing the man's head. Seeing an opportunity, he sprinted toward it. As he neared it, the creature whirled on him. The lower half of the torso and legs belonging to the elf dangled from it's mouth. 'Damn it.' The beast lunged again.

Sam dove beneath it, sliding on the slick mat as it sped over him. He quickly came to his feet again as it passed, and he saw the jewel encrusted cane the noble elf had held. He quickly retrieved it, noting the surprising weightiness in the gilded neck. As he spun toward the mountain elf's transformed body he shifted his grip to the base. He tested the spherical handle of the cane and it popped out, revealing a short, thin sword. 

'Ah, so he was one of those assholes.' Sam thought, shaking his head. 'Well, I suppose I can't criticize him now that I'm using it.'

The great insect was slow to turn, its movements tremulous and ungainly. Before it could fully turn, Sam ran at it again. His body felt lighter than air as he dashed past, hacking heavily at one of the beast's hind legs. The first blow just missed the middle joint, where he'd been aiming, barely scratching the hard exoskeleton. But the second blow found it's mark and the leg crumpled with a loud, painful crunch.

The creature let out a deafening screech and whirled around faster than Sam could avoid. A single mandible caught his left arm, tearing straight through his elbow. He cried out in pain as the sheared lower half of his arm flopped to the ground. He immediately summoned his magic again, but his foe was faster. It flicked his severed arm across the arena with a swipe of it's clawed foreleg.

Sam's blood poured out his arm, only to be pulled back in by his magic. If it hadn't hurt so much, he might have thought it looked cool. He dragged more magic into himself, hoping his arm might come to him. When it still refused, he opened himself to even more magic. His body looked like a giant fluorescent gold and silver bulb. A small haze of spirals began to leak off of his skin. Finally, he felt the lower half of his arm move slightly. 

Suddenly it sped up, flying up off the ground and slamming into its upper half. Sam spun with the impact, reducing some of the shock. He grinned as he released his magic and opened his eyes. Afterimages of the spirals still writhed in his vision where they'd been moments before. He could still see his surroundings enough to realize his opponent had been temporarily blinded. The huge bug shook its head mechanically, looking around through sightless, beady eyes.




Bound in Spirals Ch. 14



"Ha! That's what you get for choosing a huge bug you fucking moron!" Sam taunted madly as he struck at the creature's forelegs.

He only managed to take it's right leg before it appeared to regain its sight. The spiny femur of its separated leg was now spasming wildly, as if trying to reconnect with the rest of itself. It shrieked again, spewing foamy saliva from it's clacking mouth. Sam nimbly avoided it's frantic counter, rolling left as it snapped at him with its mandibles. Rising from the roll, he jabbed upward with the short sword. The sharp tip scraped a groove as it glanced off its thick armor.

Despite having lost two legs the creature moved even faster than before. Spinning, it caught Sam in the side as he was recovering from the deflected strike. A burst of pain shocked through him as the mandibles slid between his ribs and bit down. Then it wrenched backward, taking a chunk of flesh with it. Sam could feel each fiber of muscle tearing away excruciatingly.

"Fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FCKKHHGAHHHH!" Sam roared as he immediately flailed at the beast's head.

Yellow ichor spurted from the gash left the insect's eye as it reeled back. Sam hurriedly summoned as much magic as he could, hoping desperately that the imbalance in his right side would be filled. His hopes were proved empty.

"AHH... ARRGGHHH! Shit shit shit shit shit!" He looked down with horror filled eyes at the shredded flesh through the tear in his coat. Two of his ribs were visible in the grisly hole, white, stained pink from his blood. Streams of blood were pouring out and flowing back in; only to have more pour out moments later, just like his arm had done less than a minute ago. This time, however, his flesh would not return to him.

The mountain elf gave him no time to consider his painful problem, charging wildly at him and clicking its mandibles in rage. Sam grunted, peeling his eyes away from the wound and lifting the sword in his left hand with his right at the pommel. He smirked grimly, observing somewhat amusedly that the massive insect was veering to its right unconsciously. 'Looks like I'm not the only one off-kilter right now.' His smirk vanished as his attacker let out a final burst of speed and pounced.

Sam let out a controlled breath, his face set in a hard resolve. His movements were more graceful than any he'd managed up until then. He bound his feet to the floor and let himself fall backward. The airborne insect couldn't adjust its path. Sam's left hand shifted upwards, his legs straining to hold him up, and with his right hand he shoved with all the strength he could muster.

His strike landed home with a satisfying crunch and a squelch as the blade pierced first through the vulnerable area between it's head and thorax, then slid easily into the brain. Sam released his feet from their bind and his back slammed against the concrete. He had a moment to savor the satisfaction before the abdomen of the beast landed straight onto his chest, trapping him firmly beneath. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard a pair of voices in his mind, calling his name...

———

Hennel glanced over at Fiernil, wondering how his work was progressing, but the elf was no longer there. 'Huh? When did he leave?' Silver moonlight streamed in through the open window, revealing the empty room to the prince's eyes. 'He even took all of his equipment with him? When did it become night?' He set the long since empty pipe down on the nightstand, then slowly pushed himself up.

His arms trembled under the strain of lifting his own weight, disconcerting him even more than the lack of pain. Finally sitting up, he looked down at his bare arms in horror. Beads of sweat caught the moonlight on his emaciated arms. His skin sagged slightly due to the extreme loss of muscle and fat. 'Why? How long have I been here? Was this due to Fiernil's attempt at healing me? The poison?' Tears trickled from his eyes and fell into his open palms.

"I'm such a miserable wretch. Look at me, crying over something so pathetic..." He muttered as he held his head in his hands.

He glanced up, seeing a group of hands crawling through his window. A cold chill ran through him as he looked to the door, seeing it slowly opening for more hands to pour in. Children's hands; small, mutilated, clawed over each other in their hurry to reach him. Hennel blinked, and they were gone.

"What's wrong...? Why are you looking at me like that?" Deredd asked, standing in the doorway with a worried frown.

Hennel shook his head quickly. "H-Huh? Oh... I, er, the pain got worse for a second there." It wasn't a lie, but of course it wasn't the whole truth either. "What... Why are you here?"

"I came to check on you again. You seem to be feeling a bit better. Fiernil gave you wellid?" Deredd asked, glancing first at the pipe then to the small vial of crystals and the lighter. "He's leaning over the line of legality doing that, you know."

Hennel winced as he sat up straighter, every muscle in his back struggling to keep him upright. "If it continues to help me as much as it has, I won't give a damn about breaking the law. I feel almost normal right now by comparison."

Deredd just nodded. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"That... That would be nice. I might need some help dressing, though." Hennel replied.

"I imagine I'll be doing most of the walking for the both of us too." Deredd said as he helped the prince out of his gown, some of his usual mocking tone returning. "Have you seen yourself recently? You look like shite."

"Well, I heard somewhere that poison is good for your skin. You know how I am about my skin, I just couldn't help myself. Turns out I'd misheard." The tattered prince replied, surprised he could still jest so easily. "While you're at it, could you wash me down? I have more than one similarity to shite right now."

"Blight! Don't you have servants for this sort of thing? Why the hell am I stuck doing it." His friend complained, dampening a pair of washcloths in the basin of water left at the foot of the bed. Deredd began gently scrubbing the prince's back as he gingerly washed his chest, giving his stomach a wide berth.

"You know damn well that princes don't have personal servants. That's why I was careful to look for a friend who would do whatever I asked without complaint." Hennel sighed. "Unfortunately, I had to settle for you."

"Behind that pretty face of yours, you're a blighted ugly menace. A danger upon all who dare befriend him! Gods forbid I dare to raise complaint!" Deredd cried in mock indignation, lifting up Hennel's arm to wash his armpit. "Jokes aside, I figure we'll go get you a cane and perhaps a new badass pipe. You should consider yourself lucky, I've always wanted an excuse to use a pipe."

"I'll take time later to consider considering myself lucky." He replied, handing his washcloth over to Deredd who put both back into the porcelain basin.

Deredd quickly helped Hennel into his violet off-duty uniform with minimal pain, buttoning the previously snug fitting coat up to the top of his sternum. "Alright, up you go!" He said, putting Hennel's left arm around his neck and carefully helping him to his feet.

"It's a good thing you're so much shorter than I am. Or this would be much more difficult for the both of us." Hennel said, then grunted as he took his first step. "Grab the wellid. I imagine I'll need it again soon."

The man grumbled as he snatched the vial off the table. "I'm not even that short, I'm average!"

"Which average are you using? Crestell's or Geylin's?"

"Fuck you, five eight is average. Look at you! You look like a damn fenttowood tree in winter. Tall as a grynfol and skinnier than a blade of grass." They laughed for a moment, savoring the brief relief from grimmer moods.

"Alright, no more jokes. It's making my gut hurt, and not in the good way." Hennel said with another pained grunt. To the side of the door, he saw his felnn blade resting sheathed on the ground. "I need my sword, let me grab it."

"Just leave it, you're too weak right now." Deredd replied, trying to lead him through the door.

"I... I would feel better having it with me." He looked at his friend, not realizing how much of his worry was writ plainly in his expression. "I can wear it fine. It won't be to heavy."

"Very well... be careful when you crouch, I can't imagine falling over would be pleasant." Slowly bending his knees, Hennel managed to reach his sword with Deredd's help. They stood back up and he buckled his belt on. "Hahh... There we go, got it."

"Ah! Prince Hennel, it is encouraging to see you up and about! The fallen sword captains have been sorely missed on the battlefield." Muritienn, Darrel's former squire, ran past, saluting quickly. The young sword captain's expression looked exhausted, yet he moved with an alacrity of one new to his position.

Hennel nodded and returned the salute. When the man was out of earshot he asked, "He's among the new generation?"

"Mhm, another non-mage has now reached rank sword captain under Darrel's tutelage. I still wonder how he manages to have such a high success rate." Deredd replied, shaking his head slowly in bewilderment.

"With you, how many does that make? Four non-mages?"

"Yes, and we have a total of 42 captains now with the five new ones. Another generation was promoted to high guard as well, bringing us to 415 members. Your younger brother was supposed to be among the new generation, but he disappeared on the day of the promotion."

"Vennal? What do you mean he 'disappeared'? A prince can't just disappear like that." Hennel said, frowning at his friend.

"By 'disappeared', I mean that he disappeared. We have found no trace of him. His rooms were pristine and he didn't seem to have taken anything with him. Galonn said that he believed Vennal was kidnapped by the enemy. Some of the younger captains seemed to agree with his ideas, but with Galonn... well, you know what I mean." Deredd explained.

"Deredd, you can feel free to say what you will about my sister, Tenall, around me. I have lost most, if not all, of the pity I previously held for her." Hennel said with a flat voice.

"Well, we are still in a place where people can overhear, so I will keep my complaints vague." He replied.

"Alright, I understand what you mean about Galonn. He had an unwavering, irrational loyalty to my mother. The sword captains are not meant to take every order the queen makes unquestioningly." He paused as they slowly rounded the corner, following the carpet toward the stairs. "If the sudden 'revelation' came from him, I would suspect that Tenall told him to say it. She wouldn't hesitate to exploit his behavior."

"I forgot to mention... Vennal is not the only one who has gone missing, only the most recent. Many of your other younger siblings have gone missing as well, along with a few of the older ones."

The prince ceased walking and turned his head to meet his friend's eyes. "You must have 'forgotten' to mention it the other day as well, eh?" He said, feeling anger welling up in his chest.

"I thought you had enough to worry about on your own. I tell you now because you seem to be in a more clear minded state than before." Deredd replied, holding his fierce gaze.

"I understand that you care for me Deredd, but don't presume to treat me as fragile. Is there anything else you forgot to mention?"

The smaller man sighed in grudging acceptance as Hennel began to slowly walk forward again. "There was... Evidence was found of an attack on a royal carriage. To the north."

The prince froze. "What?"

"We believe the princess managed to escape, but we have yet to confirm sightings of her." Deredd paused, looking even more hesitant to continue. "Gurilthenn... That's what attacked them."

"Gurilthenn? What do you mean? Why would gurilthenn attack people?" Hennel began walking once again, trying to comprehend the meaning of that. "Has there been many reports of attacks? Has this happened in the past?"

"There have been several reports of farms destroyed and merchants missing, but very few personal accounts. They haven't been attacking near settlements. As for the past... Well, the historians have no records of it occurring."

"That's... troubling..." Hennel said, and didn't talk again for a long time. They walked and walked, Hennel's wound counting his steps while he brooded deeply about the information he'd been given. The moon lit their backs silver as they stepped into one of the halls with a glass ceiling. Hennel's ragged breathing echoed in the empty palace over the sound of their rubber soled boots squeaking softly on the polished stone.

"We'll take a less traveled path out." Deredd said, finally breaking the silence.

Hennel's greasy blonde hair fell over his forehead as he nodded absently. Before he knew it, they were stepping into one of the open courtyards to the east side of the palace. Well tended flowers of deep purple glowed faintly in the darkness, illuminating the edges of the path. The prince looked at them with subtle interest.

"I've always been fascinated by lunflann violets, despite their carnivorous appetite..." He whispered, watching as, even now, a moth was wrapped inside the flower's thick petals. The dark colored moth struggled frantically, and with a combination of it's weight and strength, it managed to knock the flower free from its high perch atop the stem. "They are so delicate. It's a wonder how they manage to survive outside a controlled environment."

"I, er... I asked a botanist I know about them, and she told me that if patrapelst is mixed into their water the fluid coating their petals smells sweeter and kills quicker." Deredd said, following Hennel's gaze. "Its supposed to help them catch insects, I guess."

"Patrapelst? How can the plant survive a poison like that?"

"Apparently lunflann originally grew in the wasteland far northwest, so they're more acclimated to foul water, especially patrapelst which is derived from the patrapellan moss. The ones here are really well tended, but they're still comparably brittle to those that grow wild with the moss surrounding them... I mean, that's what the botanist told me." Deredd looked away from the plants hurriedly.

Hennel frowned at his friend. 'Does he believe that I think it odd of him to like plants? Well, I'll not pester him about it if he doesn't wish to admit it.' He thought, looking up at the waning silver moon. 

He took a shuddering breath as they stepped up to the small wooden door. The young guard stationed there saluted them and held open the door as they passed. It closed with a soft thud and a click. A straight path led down toward the inner city where enormous manors glowed with light of countless lanterns and, in some cases, an infused chunk of quartz was embedded above doorways, glowing with a variety of bright colors.

The streets still bustled with activity as the pair slowly made their way closer to the business districts. Beautiful young noble women and their handsome counterparts spoke softly together, smiling and nuzzling each other with sickly sweetness. Deredd glared at some of them with open disdain, particularly those who groped each other in clear view of others.

"Damned nobles. No one wants to see you flapping your blighted tits around in public. Contrary to your beliefs, nobody finds it charming in the slightest..." He muttered in a low growl, still shooting daggers at anyone who dared come within 10 feet of them.

Hennel sighed, then grinned in grim amusement. "Deredd, I explained it to you already, didn't I? It's not about trying to charm anyone, it's a competition. They want to make the other ladies envious, either of their body or their man's body. That's why they're all so near each other."

"Yes, you explained it. Doesn't make it any less fuckin' stupid."

Another couple passed by, and that was where Deredd lost it. The man was clad in the vibrant purple of the high guard. His disheveled coat had been crumpled down, hanging from the crooks of his elbows, and the matching shirt beneath was torn down the center exposing his chiseled chest to the open air. 'Oh blight.'

"Deredd, wait!" Hennel said urgently.

"You can stand still here for a second, right? I'll make it quick." He said as he released his hold around the prince.

Hennel's knees wobbled beneath him, but didn't buckle. He tried to grab his friend before he could get out of reach, but Deredd moved quickly. The high guardsman was unknown to the prince, but he was easily 50 pounds larger than his friend. In a normal fight, perhaps it might have been a closer match, though knowing Deredd it wouldn't have really mattered. 

The noble lady squealed in surprise and indignation as Deredd shoved her aside, just gentle enough not to leave evidence of his roughness. "How dare—?!" She cut off as the purple of his coat fluttered into her vision.

His fist slammed immediately into the man's solar plexus, and he doubled over with a yelp. Deredd knelt lower so that his eyes met the man's and spoke in a soft, menacing voice. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" The man couldn't reply, only gasped for breath. Deredd shook the man by his torn shirt. "What the fuck is this?"

The man, slowly recovering, spat straight in Deredd's face. He remained perfectly still for a brief moment, then he moved with the agility of a ferret. Hennel could barely track the movements as Deredd struck the man in the ribs with an audible crack then quickly gripped the man's left wrist. The sharp bending and twisting jerks he made next were so fast that the cracking of bones sounded like the popping of a small firecracker.

Deredd stepped back, leaving the man with a crumpled hand of broken bones and a shattered wrist. The prince felt himself tremble looking at the mutilated hand. The fact that no skin had been broken was a testament to Deredd's skillful precision. The prince forced himself to look away from the hand, turning his gaze toward the noblewoman who, wide-eyed, stared with a nauseated expression at the mangled hand of her lover.

The injured man opened his mouth to scream as the pain started to register, but Deredd quickly knocked the air from his lungs again. "Don't scream. Take your pathetic ass to a medic and have them mend that hand. On your gentle jaunt over, consider how much of an idiot you are. Remember this the next time you think to cock about in your uniform." He turned to the woman. "May I borrow your handkerchief? I seem to have left mine in my rooms by mistake."

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Deredd flicked his hand out and pulled the cloth out from her dress. He wiped his face with the lacy blue kerchief and before she could even react he'd shoved the cloth back into her dress. Deredd gave an exaggerated bow to the lady and quickly returned to Hennel's side. He got his arm around him and the two began to walk at a slightly faster pace than earlier.

"Damn it, Deredd! There were better ways to handle that!" Hennel said in a sharp whisper. "You let your rage get out of control."

"No, if it were out of control I would have left him without a hand." He replied as they hurried toward the business district. "The high guard are supposed to be above all that foolishness."

"Fuck. Slow down, I can't keep this up." Hennel said with a pained gasp, and they slowed to a ginger walk. "You... You should have made sure there were less witnesses, those nobles will make trouble about this."

"That... was my mistake." The man replied, glancing about the plaza they'd just entered.

"Well at least you realize that much... Do you know which shop we're looking for?"

"Yes, Aivvena's." Deredd frowned. "It's not here?"

Hennel sighed. "Aivvena's place is two streets over." He paused for a second, thinking. "Why are we going to Aivvena's? Doesn't she still hate you? Besides, I don't have enough for her exorbitant prices."




Bound in Spirals Ch. 14



"She'll have to get over it, and she owes me a favor. I figure I can convince her to make the stuff if I have to. Although... she still really likes you, so... I might not even have to use up my favor." He replied with an unashamed shrug.

"You really are a devious little widdel shite at times." Hennel said with a dark chuckle. "But, if you weren't, I suppose you wouldn't have gotten so far as you have."

"This coming from the prince of stone widdels?!" Deredd adopted a good approximation of a nobleman's more lilting accent, "I dare say I feel offended, my prince!"

Hennel stifled a laugh, glancing around at the noble women with their men passing them by. "Shh! Don't do that around here, they might hear you."

"What are they going to do? Try to make me duel them?"

"No, but they might say something to their wives."

"Oh blight... I forgot that." Deredd said, trying to cover his laughter with a cough. "Are we going the right way?"

"Yes, it's just ahead."

A minute later, Hennel found himself standing at the front door of Aivvena's shop. He reached up and rapped on it with a shaky hand. He felt more than a little trepidation at seeing her again, but his hands were trembling more and more due to his steadily increasing pain. Deredd started to fidget when she didn't answer right away. He knocked a few seconds later.

The pair jumped slightly when the door opened suddenly, streaming out with bright white light. A shadow stood in the doorway, indistinct through his squinting eyes.

———

Darrel sat alone on the bench, his fingers entwined behind his lowered head. The utter darkness around the beautiful park was enough to make him virtually invisible, the way he preferred it. He'd spent several hours sitting there, barely registering the day become night. He just sat there, thinking about the commitment he'd made earlier.

A voice spoke into his mind, 'Samson sought me out.' Rentell said. When Darrel did not reply immediately he went on. 'We had no chance to speak, his saint was in trouble and he had to go...'

Darrel still did not reply.

'Why are you silent? Did something happen while I was away?' Rentell sifted through his memories when he continued his unmoving silence. 'I understand... This will be good for you, you know. You'll have to get over it eventually.'

Darrel's face, unseeable in the dark, twisted into an expression of such indescribable rage. "FUCK YOU!" He shouted, the seething anger rippling out with his words. "My wife, my little daughter, my baby son! They were raped and murdered because of my existence. And you tell me to get over it?! You expect me to just sleep with another woman now?!"

'Darrel, you can barely remember their faces. It has been over a hundred years.' He paused, waiting for a response, but Darrel had already smothered his emotions again and reseated himself.

'Leave me be.' The captain said, retreating back behind his mask, his shield.

'Very well...' The god left him to his silence.

—————

Thus ends Chapter 14. Hope you enjoyed!



Bound in Spirals Ch. 01



No, he was still wearing the white T-shirt he'd put on that morning, and it was still coated with dust from the archive room. 'So, we must have completely switched places? or maybe I really am just going mental, and this is something my mind conjured?' Sam tried to make sense of everything that had happened. 'No, this is way to vivid to be some sort of coma dream, or something.'

Sam realized that he would never be able to make sense of this all on his own, so he decided to go with the flow for now, and try to figure it out as he went. 'Ok, first I need to get out of this damn armor. How'd that guy even fight in this? It's almost fucking impossible to move in!' Sam grunted as he pushed himself to his knees.

Fortunately the rest of the armor seemed relatively easy to remove, compared to the chest plate and helm, mainly because he could see where it was attached. Finally, he was able to stand up. Sam felt his shirt stuck to his back, and decided to pull it off. As he pulled it over his head, he realized the back of it was no longer white, but crimson. The man who shared his name had left his blood behind, and Sam's shirt had soaked up most of it.

Sam tossed the shirt to the ground with the armor, after wiping his back with the clean side. He grabbed the sword that had lain next to him, and lifted it. It almost slipped from his hands as it came swinging upward, it was much lighter than he had expected it to be, considering its size. He grabbed the sheath it belonged to, and slid it inside after wiping the blood from it. He strapped on the sheath across his chest, so the sword on his back was easily reached with his right hand.

Sam took a deep breath, and scanned his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a battle field, corpses spread like a blanket along the dried plains. A few feet away, he saw the body of the man who'd killed the other Sam. Apparently having bled out as he tried to drag himself away. Sam almost laughed at the memory of the man sniveling like a little brat after other Sam severed his hand. 'The pretentious ass turned into a whiny bitch as soon as he was injured. Figures.'

Sam turned to walk in the opposite direction of where the slain man had headed, supposing he should go to whichever place other Sam belonged to. As he walked he continuously searched with his eyes, and ears for any sign of life. Tattered banners left abandoned fluttered in the slight breeze. Toward the edge of the visible battlefield, there were rickety looking wood towers with white canopies.

Nothing immediately caught his attention, and he guessed any who survived had already retreated. He had to skirt around the unmoving corpses carefully, they seemed to be everywhere. He had to plug his nose occasionally when he caught a whiff of fecal matter amid the fetid smell of death. While Sam strode onward, his thoughts began to wander. 'Did I travel back in time? Or maybe to another planet? Or perhaps this could be in the distant future, after some sort of apocalyptic event that sent humanity back to simpler times.' Ultimately, Sam doubted it really made much of a difference, but the questions made the time seem to go by quicker as he walked. He started to wonder if he'd be able to return home to his place in time, or his planet, or whatever his reality was.

After what felt like over an hour of walking, which in reality was closer to 20 minutes, he was able to make out the faint hustle and bustle of what he hoped was the army's camp. Sam began a steady jog, he was really hungry, and was hoping they'd feed him when he got there. 'All I've eaten today was that piece of bagel, and that was like, five hours ago, I think.'

Within five minutes of jogging Sam could see the camp in the distance. A dusty cloud shrouded the large encampment, and he could hear some strange melancholy music. He was not sure whether it was in celebration of victory, or an honoring of the fallen. As he approached, he heard a horn blare, and a figure began riding toward him on the back of what looked like a horse, but he couldn't quite tell from the distance.

He slowed his pace slightly as the rider came within a hundred yards. At this point, it was clear that whatever it was, it most certainly was not a horse. It looked almost like a cross between an ostrich, and a horse. It's body shape resembled a horse's, but the legs were orange and scaly. Each foot had four toes, three in front and one on the back, and each toe had a long ivory colored talon. The body was sleeker than a horse's, and it had long feathers all over, except for it's bald, pink head.

Sam waved to the rider dressed in sleek blue and black armor, but the rider returned no gesture. He wiped the sweat dripping from his brow as he slowed to a walk. He was somewhat afraid that the lack of a wave meant they thought he was an enemy, or something. He considered being ready to pull the sword, but the only thing he knew about how to use it was from a book he'd read about styles of sword fighting back in the eighth grade, and he remembered very little.

Finally, the rider pulled the beast to a stop, only 10 yards from Sam. As the person dismounted, Sam realized it was a woman. She grabbed something from a pouch at her side, and tossed it to the bird-horse. It snapped it out of the air between it's long yellow beak. Sam strode forward a few more feet then stopped, intending to wait for her to approach so he didn't seem aggressive.

As the woman turned, and walked toward him, he noticed that she seemed barely above five feet tall. Sam felt awkwardly tall, at about a foot taller than her. She said nothing as she approached, and Sam wasn't able to see any facial expressions beneath the helmet, thus he had no idea what sort of situation he might be in. Her gait was confident, but beyond that he couldn't tell anything. She stopped mid step as she came within a few yards. Sam's body was tense.

"Samson? Is that you?" she said, her voice soft.

Sam was shocked that he was recognized. 'What? How does she know me?' Then it hit him. The other Sam, the one he'd replaced, must have looked very similar to him.

"Uh, yea, I'm Samson." Sam replied, and before he could continue, he was hit with her body.

'Why is she attacking me? I thought she...' He stopped that thought as he realized it wasn't a tackle, but a hug.

"We all thought you were dead!" She cried.

Sam tried to process it, and think of a response. He tried to wriggle from her grip, but she held on tight while continuing to blubber out unintelligible words between sobs.

"Wait, I-I..." Sam didn't know how to say it. "I-I'm not the Samson you think I am!" he managed to stutter out.

Sam watched as the woman stopped talking, and unclenched herself from his waist. She pulled back, and looked up at him. Sam tried to say something, but nothing came out. She removed her helmet, and looked up at him with the most heartbroken looking expression he'd ever seen. Sam felt like a monster, even though it wasn't his fault, he'd given her back someone she cared about, then killed him again right there.

Her shoulder length brown hair was matted down by sweat, and warm brown eyes were blurred with tears. Her dirt dusted cheeks were streaked, and her lip was quivering. Sam looked into her eyes, nearly burst into tears himself. He knew all too well what that feeling was like, and felt buried memories start to surface. Sam forced his composure, he couldn't afford to break down.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to confuse you in such a way." He said, after swallowing the lump in his throat.

She wiped her eyes then looked him up, and down. Her face hardened immediately, and she glared up at him. Her body moved quickly, and Sam barely had time to move before the gauntleted fist struck his left eye. Fortunately, he'd moved just enough to avoid a broken nose, which was where she'd aimed. Just as he felt the first fist pull back, he felt the second hit him in the stomach. Sam doubled over, and wretched. Again, he tried to move, but the next blow was a kick directly to the testicles.

Sam grunted, and decided to just fall to the ground. There was nothing he could do at that point, the all consuming aching, stabbing, crunching pain had him as close to tears as the emotions had, less than a minute before. The next five minutes was a blur as he felt kick after kick, to his face, back, stomach, thigh, face again, and so on. The rest of the pain felt irrelevant compared to the incapacitating throb emanating from his crotch.

Eventually, it started to fade, and he felt all the other pain in full force. He coughed, and blood splattered the ground next to his head. He could barely see out of his swollen left eye, and not at all from his right eye. Sam raised his arms slowly to cover his face, and pulled his legs to his abdomen.

"P-Pleathe... sthobp..." He pleaded through his broken lips.

The beating ceased, at the sound of clacking claws, more riders seemed to be approaching. Sam's consciousness began slipping away, and he wondered if he'd die there. He coughed again, and one of his molars came out this time, along with the dark mixture of phlegm and blood. 'Maybe I should have... tried to get to the camp... before admitting that..." was the last thing he thought before blacking out...

Sam woke to find his eyes unable to open, and his body feeling like he'd taken a tumble down a mountain. He felt a hard surface below him, covered with a rough cloth. His head was still a chaos of drunken thought. His lips were crusted together by coagulated blood, so he breathed a deep breath through his nose. Instantly he regretted it. Pain stabbed him from multiple ribs, and he had to struggle not to tense up.

In the back of his mind, he started seeing those whirling patterns from before. So, he focused his attention to them, and found his pain faded back to a distant thought. Sam watched the writhing swirls for a while, until they started to melt away, gradually vanishing. As soon as they were gone, Sam's tumultuous roar of pain washed over him. He lost consciousness once again...

When he came to, his eyes were significantly less swollen, and most of his pain had faded to aches. Sam observed that his lips were no longer crusted shut, and he inhaled deeply. His ribs smarted, but did not feel nearly as bad as before. As he opened his eyes a gentle voice spoke.

"Good to see you're up."

Sam turned his head to see who it was. A portly woman in violet robes was sitting atop a cushion covered log.

"You've got quite the healing abilities," She said, "I couldn't have sped your progress even if I'd tried."

"Huh?" Sam blinked as he took in his surroundings. "How long was I out?"

"A little over an hour, if you count the time you were half-conscious." She said as she stood. "They sent me to come heal you, but all I was able to do was put your tooth back."

"Wh-What?" Sam stuttered out, his bewilderment obvious.

"You have some wondrous magical abilities within you." She said with a flourish. "When I tried to heal you with my own magic, I was able to glimpse it. I was almost pulled into it, it was so mesmerizing!"

Sam tried to process it all, but he was still in a sleepy daze. Before he got the chance to respond, the woman continued with enthusiasm.

"Where did you learn such powerful techniques? None of the institutions even in Stralden teach anything close to it!" Her green eyes were alight with curiosity, and she seemed to be eager for an answer.

"I uh... I don't really know." Sam said truthfully.

"Surely that mustn't have been self taught! It is far beyond anything you could discover in as little years as you've been around." The woman seemed to be just about jumping with excitement.

"N-No, I meant that I don't know where it came from." Sam replied after a moment of thought, he was still taking in the whole 'magic' existing part. Though he realized it shouldn't have been all that surprising, considering he'd somehow transported himself here... wherever 'here' was.

The woman brought him a cup filled with lukewarm water, and Sam took it as he sat up. The raised board he'd been lying on warped down slightly as his weight shifted, and the blanket that had been covering him fell to the side. Suddenly, Sam was embarrassed to find underneath the blanket his jeans had been removed. He scrambled to cover himself while the woman watched with amusement.

Sam relaxed as the woman sat. She looked him up and down for an awkwardly long time. He fidgeted under her gaze, and the water still in his hand dripped over the lip. He took a large gulp from the water, then looked back to the woman.

"Forgive my impertinence, what is your name young man?" Then she added, "It has been some time since I met one of power so far exceeding my own, and I let my elation get the best of me." Sam was surprised by the sudden formality.

"My name is Samson," he responded quickly, using his full name.

She raised her eyebrows. "So your resemblance goes beyond physical, hmm." She studied his eyes as she continued. "The woman that beat you half to death, was the older sister of a man named Samson. He did not make it back today."

Sam winced at the still vivid memories, of both experiencing Samson's death, and his own pummeling.

"The blade you brought back with you today was his." She said, her voice turning dark. "It is considered a grave offense to loot a warrior's body of gold, but a sword is on par with defiling the body. So you can understand her anger at seeing you with it."

Sam was stunned silent. His resentment toward the woman for beating him simmered, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He dropped his head forward.

"I-I didn't know of those... stigmas, I wouldn't have if I'd known." Sam said quickly.

"Calm, Samson we are aware of your ignorance. Your garb was indication enough that you came from foreign lands." She said, her gentle tone resuming. "I just thought to tell you so you wouldn't hold a grudge toward Dranissa, and so you would not make the same mistake."

"I see." Sam whispered, his head still down. "I'll be more careful."

"Before I go, I have one last question for you. How did you take the sword?" Sam raised his head at this.

With a raised eyebrow he said, "well it was lying on the ground unsheathed, so I took it and grabbed it's sheath-"

"That is all I needed to hear, thank you Samson." She cut him off. "I will send for someone to bring you new attire."

The woman finished with a slight curve of her lips, and sauntered out of the small canvas tent. Sam was left alone in the spartan accommodations. He glanced around, there were only three pieces of furniture in the space. The board he sat on, the short log across from him, and a small trunk at the foot of the makeshift bed. A small wooden bucket sat next to the log, filled with water.

Sam rose and stretched, his body was virtually free of any pain now. Only a slight soreness remained in his ribs, he assumed a few had been broken. He dug his bare toes into the soft dirt beneath him as he bent forward, stretching his legs. Once he'd loosened up he refilled his cup with water and chugged it down, then repeated the action. Finally, he rested back down on the bed on top of the blankets, and put his arms behind his head.

As he closed his eyes, he could faintly see the lustrous spirals that had somehow brought him to this world where magic supposedly existed, and people fought with swords. Sam focused on those infinitely intricate patterns, and felt himself becoming captivated by them similarly to when he'd been sucked in. However, this time he felt no fading of his consciousness, he could surprisingly sense the spectacular power hidden in those structures.

Sam was shocked from his reverie by the sound of someone clearing their throat. His eyes flew open, and caught sight of a girl holding a pile of dark colored cloth. She was looking off to the side, and her cream colored cheeks were splotched with a rosy color. It took Sam a moment to realize he'd been lying spread out, and exposed. He felt his own face grow warm as he sat up.

"Uh... sorry about that, I wasn't expecting someone to come so soon." He said with a nervous chuckle.

She thrust out the clothes toward him awkwardly, still avoiding his gaze.

"I-I'll b-be waiting outside while you try th-them on." The girl stuttered out in a high pitched voice.

Sam took the clothes and the girl scrambled out the slit in the tent, her lengthy skirt flapping behind her. He looked down to the clothing in his hands, atop the pile was a pair of shiny leather boots. He set the boots down on the ground and grabbed the navy colored cloth on top. It was a thin, silky, navy colored T-shirt with a short cut at the center of the collar, with black laces running between the two sides. He pulled it over his head, and it slid over his lean chest snugly.

Next, was a heavy, shadowy grey jacket, which he put on as well. He folded the collar down, and left the front unbuttoned. Then, there was a pair of similarly colored grey pants. Sam stood and pulled them up. He drew on the cord that laced the front of the pants, and tied them.

Finally, he grabbed the glossy black boots and sat on the covered log. Inside the left boot was a pair of folded black socks, he dusted his feet off and pulled them on. His feet fit into the boots just as perfectly as the rest of the outfit had, and he tied them tightly.

"Okay." Sam said with an exhale. "Miss? I think I'm finished up."

The girl hesitantly peeked inside. Then, seeing he was dressed she ducked back in.

"Wow... Lady Grettia is really amazing at guessing sizes." The girl muttered as she looked him up and down.

"Who's Grettia?" Sam asked curiously.

"Huh?" Sam noticed the girl staring at his chest. "O-Oh she's the healer, one of the best we have. The one who treated you."

"Ah, I see." Sam muttered. "Do you know if there's any food around? I haven't eaten since morning." He asked as his stomach grumbled softly.

"Um, I could check if there are leftovers, but supper finished about half an hour ago."

"That's fine, I don't mind cold food. I just need something to tide me over." He said with a half grin.

"Alright, I'll go check for you." The girl said and started out the door.

"Wait!" Sam said as he jumped forward and caught her hand. "I didn't get your name."

She turned to him, and Sam noticed how close he was standing. The girl looked up at him, her cheeks flooding with red.

"U-Uh my name?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Why do you want to know?" She turned her head away nervously, her shoulder length brown hair flipping outward. "I'm just a servant, my name doesn't matter."

"I just would like to have something to call you, I guess." Sam said sheepishly.

She looked up at him again, her hazel eyes searching for something. Sam was tempted to avoid her gaze, but for some inexplicable reason, did not.

Finally, deciding she'd found whatever it was, "My name is Frenna."

Sam was caught by her kind eyes, and realized a few moments later that he'd been staring. He finally released her hand, and stepped back.

"Uh, nice to meet ya Frenna. I'm Samson, but you can call me Sam if you'd like." He said as he rubbed the back of his head and looked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw what he thought was a disappointed frown. He decided to disregard it. Frenna bowed low before Sam, and he was rendered mute for a few moments.

"I will see what I can do to get you some food, sir." She said in a more formal tone than was used before.

Sam tried to say she needn't refer to him as sir, but she dashed out of the tent quickly. "Th-Thanks Frenna!" he called out after her.

'These people are so proper. I think it's affecting me a bit.' Sam thought as he grabbed the empty wooden cup. He refilled it and sat down on the log. Sam sat there sipping the water that tasted strongly of minerals for nearly half an hour.




Bound in Spirals Ch. 01



Finally, a deep, unfamiliar voice called into his tent. "Sir, I have brought food. Are you decent?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah I'm decent." Sam replied, surprised to find he was disappointed Frenna hadn't been the one to come.

The canvas opened, and in stepped a large, bald man, with sickly looking pale skin. He wore frayed brown and black clothing, resembling Sam's new garb, only it appeared to be of much poorer quality, and far older. He held a wooden tray of food in his left hand, and his other arm hung to the side. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the stump at the end of the right arm, and the large brown scar engraved on the man's forehead.

"Thanks." Sam said softly as he stood and accepted the tray.

The man bowed and said, "Lady Grettia said to apologize that no food was brought sooner."

"It's alright, I can handle waiting a little while." Sam said with a laugh.

The man stayed bowed. "I beg pardon master, if you have no other need for me."

Sam stared at the man silently for a moment, then realized what he was asking for. "Oh, uh sure go ahead." He said awkwardly.

As the man turned and walked toward the opening Sam noticed something strange around his ankles.

"Wait, what is that thing on your feet?" he asked quickly.

The man turned back to Sam with a puzzled look on his face. He looked down to where Sam was looking. A translucent silver line connected the man's ankles. It pulsed slightly, and Sam could make out thin, discordant strands writhing about inside the line. Where it connected at the ankles, it frayed out wildly and wrapped around, it almost looked like silver veins.

"You can see the bind?" the man questioned.

"Um, yea I mean it's kinda hard to miss. Am I not supposed to see it?"

"Well, in most cases only those who hold magic can see something crafted of magic." He said in his rumbling monotone. "It is very uncommon for a knight to have such ability."

"A knight?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

The man looked at him oddly, "Yes, master you are wearing the knight's attire."

Sam looked down at his clothes, and was reminded of the only warrior he'd seen since he got to the camp. The woman who was sister to the other Sam had been garbed in very similar hues.

"Ah, yeah I understand." Responded Sam after a few seconds of thought. "Why is it there?"

The man again gave him a weird look and cocked his head. "I am a slave, all slaves are bound."

"Oh, uh... right." Sam said, suddenly distracted by the tray of food in his hands, and his incessantly growling stomach.

Sam sat back down, then grabbed a piece of charred red meat and shoved it into his mouth. It was chewy, but he salivated at the savory flavor. Just as he was about to eat a second piece he noticed the man was still stood there, looking at him expectantly.

"Oh right, forgot about the dismissal thing. You can go." Sam said with a nervous laugh.

The man bowed once again, then left. Sam wasn't too surprised at his discomfort with the fact there were slaves here. He didn't feel right being the one in the commanding position, knowing how he'd felt living with his stepmother all this time, and even then he'd at least had a little leeway to do what he wanted.

He pondered these facts as he devoured the meat. His mind wandered to the revelations of magic while he chewed absentmindedly on a hard piece of bread. 'That woman earlier, Grettia, mentioned me having powerful magic or something. I wonder if that means I can do stuff like making chains of light, or maybe I can get back home somehow...'

Before he knew it, Sam had finished all the bread as well as the meat. He looked down at the tray, disappointed to see all that was left was some sort of strange leafy greens. Tentatively, Sam nibbled at one of the leaves. It had a somewhat bittersweet taste, but was mostly plain tasting. He lifted the tray from his lap and walked to the raised platform. He lay there snacking on the bland vegetables, and trying to form a plan of action.

Eventually, he gave up on being able to devise anything. He hardly knew anything of this new world, and waiting to see how it went seemed the only option. Sam was broken from his reverie when he reached for the next leaf, and came back empty handed. Sitting up, he peered around the tent. The dim light that had been streaming in from the open flap earlier was gone, replaced by darkness. He could hardly see a foot in front of himself. He squinted and tried to recall if there was a lamp in the tent earlier.

Sam set the tray down on the floor and got up. He held his hands out, trying to feel his way to the opening. Tracing the canvas around, he found the slit and pushed out. Outside the visibility was slightly better, and he could pick out the shapes of other canopies. 'Why did I decide to come out here again?' Sam thought. He yawned as he scratched his head. 'I suppose it might be best just to go to bed.' He lifted the flap once again and made his way back to the bed.

Sam laid himself back down, and pulled the coarse blanket up to his chest. When he closed his eyes, he was unsurprised to find the web of power close to his mind. They were almost comforting, easy to get lost in. If it weren't for the trauma Sam had experienced when first seeing the swirling patterns, he would have become completely engrossed in their endlessness. As it was, he was certainly fascinated, but he kept a cautious detachment from them.

As his mind grew weary his boundaries lowered, and his consciousness began to follow one of the coruscating designs. The further he traveled on the never-ending whirls, the deeper into sleep he went...

———

Sam stood next to the bed his father lay in. It's pristine, white sheets draped over his frail body. His father looked at him and smiled weakly.

"Samson, it'll... it'll be alright." He said, his voice catching. Sam wasn't convinced.

"Daddy," Sam said softly, "I-I don't want you to go."

His father's eyes were brimming with tears, but none fell.

"I..." he started, "I don't want to go either, but..." He tried to continue, but his voice cut out, and a single tear streaked down his left cheek.

Sam's own face was already damp from crying, but still more tears fell. That morning, his father's impending death had been made known to him. Up until this point he had been hopeful, but his optimism had been torn from him cruelly. So, there he stood, on the verge of weeping, in front of his father. His father, who was expected to lose out to cancer within the month.

Sam's lip quivered as he began to speak. "I love you dad. I-I'm gonna miss you a lot."

"I love you too Sammy..." He responded despairingly.

He leaned forward and embraced his father. Large, feeble arms enveloped him, and he felt sobs from his father's chest. After what seemed a short time to Sam, the arms pulled away. His father's face was striped with dry tears, and Sam realized it had been longer than he thought.

"Samson, I want to give you something, since your birthday is coming up." His voice had returned to the deep confidence Sam was accustomed to, though it sounded somewhat forced.

His father gestured to the bedside table, on it was a piece of torn, white cloth wrapped around something. Sam slowly made his way to the table, and picked up the folded cloth. As he held it, he realized it was made of the same thin material as all of the linens in the hospital. He opened the cloth delicately, and gasped. Inside lay a ring. The ring Sam's father had worn for as long as he could remember.

Sam turned it in his hands, the intertwining silver and gold catching the light above him. Sam's eyes began to water again as he stared at the simple ring. He clutched it to his chest with both hands.

"I want you to hold onto that for me, will you?" His father asked sincerely.

"O-Of course dad! I'll never lose it, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die." Sam vowed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw the door handle to the room turning. He hastily wrapped the ring and shoved it into his jean pocket, a good thing too, the person who entered was his stepmother. Her lips curled downward slightly as she looked at Sam, but it quickly vanished as she came around the curtain and saw his father.

"Could you give us some time alone?" His stepmom asked, but her tone indicated there wasn't a choice.

Sam nodded slightly, angered by her abrupt intrusion.

"Sammy, I love ya bud." His father said, ruffling Sam's hair.

"Love you too. See you tomorrow." Sam replied with a sad smile, and he left to wait with his half sisters.

He would remember the rude disruption that had occurred with seething rage, as the last moment he would see his father...

—————

And thus ends Chapter 1. I hope you've enjoyed reading it so far! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Compliments or suggestions are also greatly appreciated. Please feel free to comment on anything, or shoot me an email, I love getting feedback. :)

~ DS