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.
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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.'
