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.