Bound in Spirals Ch. 02

Sam sensed a much greater sadness from the man than he was outwardly expressing, and began feeling mournful as well. They walked without speaking for the rest of the course. Sam wanted to ask how the man knew so much and what else he knew about it, but deemed it inappropriate.

As they came closer to their destination Sam saw a few people scrambling about, carrying pails of water, soiled cloth, food trays, and some running empty handed. A man in brown slave's garb nearly bumped straight into Sam as they rounded a corner. The foamy water in his wooden bucket spilling over the top as he stopped abruptly. Sam was about to apologize, but the man quickly bowed and hurried past before had the chance. The guard continued on, unfazed by the disruption, toward a clearing ahead.

Right as they entered the open space, Sam's escort stopped. In the area, wooden tables were strewn about in unorganized groups, few people eating together. Most of those who were sat there were injured, the servants being the only ones not so. Across the clearing was an open tent, where servants were preparing food in massive pots and handing trays of it to any who came. The guard finally broke the silence, and Sam looked to him.

"I'm sure you can figure it out from here." He said, a more unfamiliar tone returning. "When you've finished, go to the training area. They'll be expecting you."

As he finished, he turned and started walking back. Sam was preparing to say something when the man looked back to him.

"I'd like to talk with you more, but I must return to my post. I will find you later." And with that, he was gone.

Sam stood there for staring after the man for a few moments, insecure now that he didn't have someone to show him about. Finally, he spun and walked to the cook's tent, his mind filling with thoughts of delicious food. When he approached one of the cooks saw him and held out a tray of food. He nodded to the man as he took it, and thanked him. He found a seat on a bench away from the majority of the small clusters of people and sat down.

'I must look pretty out of place with my right sleeve missing,' he thought, looking at his arm amusedly. He quickly removed his jacket and set it aside, not wishing to attract attention. Inspecting his tray of food, he realized he didn't immediately recognize anything there. Thin slices of green fruit with red flesh, similar in shape to an apple, were spread atop of a cream coated piece of meat. On the side was a cup of water, and a small bowl of steaming green roots.

Sam grabbed the piece of meat with the tips of his fingers and hesitantly brought it to his mouth. A medley of bizarre flavors stimulated his taste buds. The meat itself was tough and bland, but the cream and fruit were quite pungent. The sourness of the fruit left him puckering his lips, though the cream's sweetness balanced it out fairly. Sam decided he was rather indifferent to the foreign taste.

He hastily finished the meat and relatively tasteless roots, and downed the cup of water, eager to leave. As he brought over his tray he asked the cook where he could find the training grounds, realizing the guard hadn't told him. The man frowned at him oddly and pointed him in the right direction. With that, Sam set off carrying his sundered coat over his arm.

Sam spent nearly an hour wandering among the labyrinth of identical white tents before finally stopping a servant, and asking where to go from there. She gave him the same confused look the cook had and pointed straight ahead of him. He turned and thanked her as he jogged onward.

Sam flitted his eyes left and right between the tents as he ran, finding a clearing not dissimilar in size to the eating area, but it's equipments far different. He scanned the area, seeing a dozen straw dummies in varying states of decline, and several barrels filled with wooden swords next to them. His eyes were drawn to the center of the clearing, where a woman was sat, stropping a large knife.

Shuffling forward hesitantly, he tried to think of what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as her head snapped in his direction. She glowered at him. He quickly lost whatever he'd meant to say, and took a step back warily.

"You are the greenie..." She said, sounding disappointed. "When the message said you had potential I was expecting a bit more than a scrawny youth."

Sam looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. As soon as he'd done so, he felt a searing pain tear into his left arm. His eyes centered on a handle protruding from his forearm, the tip of the blade piercing through to the opposite side. The pain sent intense shocks to his brain and he felt tears beginning to blur his vision.

His jacket fell from his quaking right arm as he reached for the handle. His hand hovered above it, reluctant to touch it for fear of aggravating the pain. Sam's eyes glanced to the woman still sat in the center of the clearing, her expression blank, and arms crossed as she watched him. Realization befell him as he saw that she no longer held a knife.

His gaze returned to the source of his pain, resolute. He gripped the handle tightly and tore the blade from his flesh. Blood and gore were ripped free as the hooked back edge of the knife dug into the muscle in his arm. He lost control of his left hand as his tendons were snapped by the barbs. As his mind fogged over, he heard his own screaming, but it sounded distant. Tears pour incessantly from his clenched eyes.

Sam fell to his knees and dropped the knife. It clattered softly against the packed dirt as he grabbed his bleeding arm. Due to his muddled mind, his power did not come to him immediately. The pain brought him to the edge of consciousness before he remembered, and he cursed himself for forgetting so soon.

His mind desperately sought out the coruscating spirals of his magic. As soon as he found them, he grasped them franticly, urgent to be relieved of the pain. Instantly, his mind and body were enveloped in the power, the pain remained, but his mind was cleared. His eyes opened tentatively to see his arm, the same that had happened barely 2 hours earlier was occurring again.

Every bare inch of skin was whirling with iridescent tattoos of power. He felt control return to his hand as the tendons mended, and watched as the small chunks of flesh flew up from the knife into his still bleeding wound. Finally, the pouring blood was staunched, and the spilt was flowing back into the already sealing veins. The pain gradually slowed to a stinging, then, ceased as his skin clasped together like a closing zipper.

Like the previous time, he felt great joy as he embraced his magic, though unlike the last, he laughed aloud. Tears continued to streak down his face as he laughed toward the heavens. 'What the hell is wrong with me...?' he thought as his body thrummed with the writhing patterns of power. His laughter ended as he lowered his gaze, returning to the woman in the clearing.

In his mind Sam still felt jubilation, but a desire to kill wormed it's way into his heart. 'I... I'll be even happier if I kill her...' he realized. Sam smiled wildly as he stared into the woman's judging eyes. He took a step forward, wringing his hands, imagining her neck between them. 'I-I can do it, I should just kill her, it would feel so good...' he chuckled with delight at the images running through his head.

He took another slow step forward, preparing to dash toward the defenseless woman. 'Perhaps I could break her arms and legs first, then slowly choke her...' His smile grew wider as each new idea crossed his mind. 'Oh how wonderful the pain would be! I could cum just thinking about it!' Sam shut his eyes to revel in beauty of the image and felt a shiver run down his spine.

As he opened his eyes he stared at the woman, into her dark eyes. In that moment Sam felt almost as though he could see into her soul, and his thoughts froze. 'A test... A test...' His smile faded. He stood there, paralyzed by something... The woman's fierce gaze seemed to be judging him. 'Stop... Stop...' the thought seemed distant, like someone yelling from afar. 'Let go... Let go...? Of what?'

His head leaned to the side, like a confused puppy. 'Let go... Let go of...' Sam tried to brush away the voice in his head, but it was persistent, not letting him forget. He felt as though he was trying to bring up a picture in his memory, like trying to remember something on the tip of his tongue. 'Let go of the...'

Finally, the image was brought to the forefront of his thoughts. It was an opalescent pattern. His magic. Sam looked down at the whirls of power moving on his bare arms. 'Let go of... the power. Let go of the power.' As soon as the thought completed in his head he felt his mind retreat from the magical, infinity of swirls and he fell to his knees. The magic faded back into his skin, and horror struck him.

"I-I-I... I was gonna kill her..." Sam muttered.

Tears reformed in his eyes, wetting his still damp face. He brought his head to his hands and started to weep.

"I-I wanted... to mu-murder her..." he said, disgusted at the thoughts he'd held moments before. "I... w-would've enjoyed it too..."

He sniffled and sobbed softly. Sam lifted his head as he felt a hand touch his shoulder gently. The woman who'd thrown the knife was now knelt next to him, her face showing compassion and warmth, rather than the fiery judgement of before.

"I see... this is what she meant." She said softly. "I apologize for my previous harshness, I needed to test you."

Sam looked into her eyes and saw sincerity. This made his despair even worse as he realized he'd wanted to kill this caring person. He tried to speak, but a lump blocked his throat. Salty tears touched his tongue as he opened his mouth.

"Do not blame yourself son, it was not your own thoughts that plagued you, but those of the magic." She said assuredly. "I honestly thought I was going to have to incapacitate you, the fact that you managed to control yourself on the first try is a testament to your good nature."

Sam took this in and felt his anguish recede, though not entirely. He again attempted to speak, but his mouth moved wordlessly. 'I-I don't want to have this magic... This is no blessing...' The woman seemed to understand what he'd meant to say and responded sternly.

"It will not help you to wish away your ability, you need simply learn to control it, and yourself."

"I-I don't wanna use it anymore. Please... I-I don't wanna hurt somebody." Sam pleaded.

At that moment her brows narrowed and she pulled her arm back. Stars flashed in Sam's vision as he reeled back from the strong slap. He looked toward her with shock clearly shown in his expression. He looked into her angered gaze fearfully as she stood up.

"If you wish not to hurt anyone, then you need to become stronger. Trying to avoid your power will only make it worse when you're forced to use it. If that were to happen, you would be certain to hurt someone. Learn to control it, and you will not need to worry about such a thing.

"For someone with as much ability as you appear to have, it was already amazing for you to break from your power. If you do not want to feel what you just felt again, then you must master it."

Sam sat there, rubbing his stinging cheek, and listening intently to her speech. He was certainly confused, but grasped that his reaction to the magic was expected, and that if he tried then he could avoid those murderous desires. Reassured, he opened his mouth to start asking his endless questions, but she cut him off.

"I can easily see that you know very little of your own ability, I will give you a rudimentary explanation of magic. So hold your tongue for the moment, most of your questions may be answered by the end of it." She said, her voice lowering.

"Okay." Sam acquiesced.

"First of all, we should introduce ourselves." She said as she walked back toward the center of the clearing.

"I am known by the name Delinna Hannt, I am the head instructor in this war camp." Delinna's auburn hair flopped in it's tight pony tail, as she turned sharply. "I have strong grasps on both magical and physical combat, as well as magical and physical healing." As she finished, she knelt on her knees with her back straight.

Sam sat there gaping for a few moments before wiping his remaining tears away quickly, and standing up. He shuffled over until he was a few yards away, then spoke.

"Uh, I'm Sam, Sam Wallace." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, my full name is Samson, but most call me Sam."

As he sat down, he was unnerved to find Delinna was studying his face intensely, with her arms crossed under her breasts. He crossed his legs and looked away from her fierce inspection, still rubbing the back of his head.

"It appears you have difficulty with confidence, Samson." She said matter-of-factly. "But that is irrelevant at the moment. I will begin by teaching you the two basic types of magic that humans can control."

Delinna closed her eyes and breathed deeply, preparing to start.

"First, is bind magic, which you and I have. Bind magic is most often used for healing, but has a wide variety uses. However, everything it is capable of is somehow related to connection, thus named as such. Healing is used most often due to the relatively easy, and useful nature, and because it uses a moderately low amount of power. Though normally, healing would take far longer than what you have demonstrated.

"Other common uses include: shackling slaves or prisoners, connecting armor, and reparation of broken items." She said, then paused.

Delinna's hands shone with a dull light as she brought forth her power. Thin lines created patterns along her skin. Sam noticed that they weren't nearly as intricate or bright as his own. She touched her each of her hands to the opposite wrist, one over the other, and closed her eyes. The patterns writhed and shimmered for a moment, then sank back into her skin. As she pulled her hands apart a band of magic connected to each wrist, and held taught about half a foot apart. It pulsed with energy as she yanked her arms outward, demonstrating the strength.

Sam stared in amazement at the up close look at the magic. The day before, when he'd met the slave, he'd seen the same magic, but from further away. Now, he could make out each and every swirling string of magic as they writhed about between Delinna's wrists. As the lines met each wrist, they split and frayed out, appearing to go straight into the skin. Sam's jaw dropped as he leaned forward.

"This is a basic point to point bind, used for shackles mostly. I am sure you have seen slaves with these on their ankles since you have been here. They are designed to allow slaves to walk normally, but prevent anything beyond that. These types of binds are useful for tying down animals temporarily as well." She put her hands back together as she finished.

As Delinna pulled her hands back apart, the bind was gone.

"Binds can only be removed by the original binder, or by those who use the second magic type, sever magic. As the name implies, most everything sever magic is capable of is related to splitting things. Sever magic is much more difficult to describe without someone to demonstrate it, unfortunately. Usually I teach in groups and have an assistant, due to the impromptu nature of this lesson, and the need for most mages in the war, I was not able to find a sever mage."

'So, that sister lady who attacked me earlier must've been one of these sever mages...' Sam thought. As Delinna paused to take a breath, Sam spoke.

"So sever magic is like destruction, and bind magic is kinda like creation or somethin', right?" Sam asked, cocking his head to the side.

"No, that is a common misconception. Sever magic does not destroy, it breaks, cuts, the matter is still there, and is not irreparable. Bind magic does not create either, it connects already existing things. Even when healing, it does not create new skin or muscle, it just puts it back together. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I think so, for the most part." Sam said. "But earlier today, one of those council ladies attacked me, and her magic, like, burned my arm. Wouldn't that count as destroying it?"

Delinna's eyes widened for a moment, then she sighed and ran her hand back through her wavy hair.

"No, that is an advanced form of Sever magic, this is what I meant by 'Sever magic is more difficult to describe without someone to demonstrate'." She said, dropping her hand, limply, to her lap. "That is... A variation of sorts, it is designed to appear like it is burning, but it really is not. You did not feel any pain during it, right?"

Sam shook his head.

"That is because it was only falling apart, not being burnt. It is very difficult to do, supposedly, and takes much more power than a straightforward severing, and is harder to heal. The main reason someone would waste that much magic though, would be to try to strike fear into a stronger foe, a necessary move on her part. Does that make sense?"

"Sorta... So it was like an illusion, kinda?" He replied.

"Yes, in a way, a trick to make it look worse than it really was." Delinna said. "I assume she was immediately killed afterward... Which one was it?"

Sam sat silently for a few moments, looking down at a dried plant between his legs, picking off the dead leaves.

"I don't remember what her name was, I think it sounded like Hiyanna or something. She had an upturned nose and blonde hair." Sam said, still fiddling with the dead plant.

"Jyanda." Delinna said, sounding unsurprised. "She was always a bold woman. Though, perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it rash."

Delinna looked upward pensively. Sam looked up from the plant and watched her expression for a moment, until she looked back down, and he turned away.

"Did you know her well?" He asked.

"No, not on a personal level. I taught her for a few years when she was still in her Basics, much before she had become one of the Sisters."

"You taught her? But she looked older than you do?" Sam said, glancing upward once again.

"Ha, I'm flattered, but no, I am older. I forget that you know next to nothing about magic. I suppose that is a good thing to start on next." She said, taking another deep breath. "All magic users age far slower than an ungifted person, and their amount of power determines how much longer. The aging process is normal until a person reaches their prime, around 18 to 25 for women, and 23 to 29 for men, then it can slow down to any number of varying rates. The average mage lives around twice as long, provided they die a natural death."

As Delinna paused again to gather her thoughts, Sam found himself confused about something.

"So, wait. How does a person's amount of power determine that? Wouldn't everyone just live forever or something?"

Delinna looked at him blankly for a moment, as if completely befuddled by his question. Then, her eyes widened.

"Oh! No no, but I get why you might think that." She said, chuckling softly. "Magic is not infinite, though it may seem so at first. In your mind you can see the lines right? The patterns?"

"Yeah, yeah I can." Sam replied, his mind unconsciously seeking the patterns.

"As you are young, there seems to be an endless number of those patterns, but over time your body uses them to keep itself at peak condition. That, along with regular magic use drains your pool, so to speak." She said.

She stopped, letting him take in the information. Sam's brow furrowed as he thought about it. 'I'm gonna live like, more than a hundred years...' He started to get lost in the prospects of that, but Delinna interrupted his reverie.