Bound in Spirals

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.'