Bound in Spirals

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.