Bound in Spirals Ch. 02

Story Info
Samson learns a bit more about this strange world.
10.8k words
4.73
20.9k
26

Part 2 of the 15 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 03/24/2015
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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.

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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."