Bound in Spirals Ch. 12

Hey dudes, Ed was unfortunately too busy to edit for me this time, so I had to do it myself like I used to. As such, you might see some more errors than usual. Enjoy!

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Sam woke with a start. "Wha? What was that?" He muttered, rubbing his forehead.

'Was that just a dream...?' He wondered. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the fog from his mind. 'No, that was more than just a dream. It felt far too vivid. I can remember every word, every sensation clearly. It was something real for sure.' He took a deep breath. 'The messenger. They called me the Hanged Man. I know I've heard that somewhere before, but when was it? And... queenkiller. That sounds ominous. Well, I suppose both of them do...'

He leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hands. It didn't register at the time, but he was surprisingly limber compared to the soreness of a couple hours before. 'All that stuff he said, it's kinda unbelievable. I shouldn't really take it too seriously right...?' His eyes stared sightlessly at his feet. '...It's as if I can't not believe it somehow. My fate. What does all this mean?'

Sam leaned back, taking a slow breath. Dettella was still asleep across from him, but the handmaiden, Giela, was no longer in the carriage. Theodore snored softly beside him. He'd been looking considerably less pale since the young elf worked on him, but his cheeks were still sunken and his eyes were ringed with a muted purple. Looking out the window, he realized it was still quite dark out. Apparently, he hadn't slept for very long.

'I need to clear my head a bit.' He thought and pulled his cloak over his shoulders as he pushed open the door. In the back of his mind, he felt Samson stirring, but he didn't approach, seemingly sensing that Sam wanted to be alone.

As he stepped out into the cool air of night, he saw a similar campfire to the night before. This time, Giela was sat next to a disgruntled looking Fenella. The captive elves glanced back at the huge furry form that circled the perimeter of the clearing several times as Sam watched. Letta's glossy black eyes reflected the flickering flame as she glanced at him. Apparently sensing the same thing Samson had, she didn't speak to him.

Darrel was leaned against a tree with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Sam wondered if he was sleeping. As far as he knew, the guard didn't sleep at all, but perhaps he'd caught him at one of the few moments he did. One eye flicked open as Sam walked past. 'Guess not.' As he left the dancing circle of light, he heard some of the elves starting to argue softly. He was curious about what they were arguing about, but not enough to stay and find out.

'I'll just take a short walk.' The forest was so black that his eyes couldn't adjust to it no matter how he strained. It felt... well, dark. In order to be able to find his way back, he began leaving small binds to the crusty bark of the trees as he walked. As he did so, he tried to control the amount of magic in his body.

It was difficult at first, especially with the demented happiness nagging at his mind, but after a little while he was able to keep the light of his forms at a soft glow. 'I need to practice this sort of thing more often. If I can't control my own magic I'll just keep having those episodes of lunacy.'

'I can't let myself do that. I'll end up hurting someone. Like what already happened with Vielchena...' He shook his head. 'I think I really messed up her mind somehow. Was it that bad? Dettella still hasn't really elaborated on what happened. I probably scarred her permanently. All because I couldn't control myself. I don't know what's worse, that I did it in the first place, or that I don't really feel guilty about it anymore. To be fair, she did attack us...'

Sam watched his booted feet scuff softly along the needle-ridden ground as he walked. His left hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword. 'What am I gonna do...' He found himself at the roots to the most immense tree he'd ever seen. Which was saying something, considering the smallest trees in the forest was at least as big around as a hot tub.

"Ho-ly shiiit..." He whispered as he tracked the tree from the base upward. There wasn't a top. Or rather, he couldn't see the top of it. It grew steadily darker the further up he looked until it just looked like a starless sky. Logically, what he was about to do was absurd, but next to that tree that defied all of that, absurdity and logic didn't really mean much. With that idea in mind, he began to crawl up the roots towards the bottom of the trunk.

'Now, this would be an ideal place for an elven city.' He thought as he pressed his hand to the tree's thick bark. He bound his hand to the tree. Then, his left foot, right foot, left hand, and he began to ascend. At first it was slow going as he had to consciously had to release and reattach each bind as he went, but after a time he began to do it almost automatically.

It became a subconscious thing, his climbing. He didn't think, didn't even respond when Samson asked him what he was doing. It was as if he fell into a trance where all he knew how to do was climb, so he that is what he did. He didn't even take breaks to regain his strength, he didn't even register the exhaustion. Not until he reached the first branch, that is.

"Hah... Hah... Whoa! Hah... How did I get up here so quick?!" Sam said, each breath he took burned his lungs. He didn't have the strength to sit up from his prone position on the broad branch. The spongey, black moss depressed beneath his weight, offering surprisingly good comfort. "Man... I'm tired..."

Drowsiness seemed to sweep his feet from under him, overtaking even the exhaustion of the climb. He was asleep in seconds.

Sam woke a few seconds later and sat up. The black moss was squishy in that fun to touch sort of way. Glowing purple plants crept along the wide branch, illuminating the doorway into the tree. The opening was lying horizontally on the branch, which he thought was odd, but walked into it just the same. Gravity shifted as he stepped into the doorway. It led to a grand hall made entirely of wood. More vine-like plants of white lit the room.

The multicolored swirling grain was beautiful, and the intricate carvings only added to that. Distantly, Sam felt the hall's existence was illogical. How could a room so huge fit into the much smaller branch, no matter how big it was relative to the average tree branch. That thought quickly sank into the 'low priority' section of his brain as he gazed around at the carvings. 'Amazing.' He thought.

The entire left wall depicted a desolate wasteland, where only a single man stood with his back to Sam. His dark brown hair fell in disheveled tangles, and his thick beard was unkempt. Small, square shaped scars ringed his neck, their pale color standing out on his tanned skin. More scars lined his bare back, they looked like those gained from a lashing. A white crow sat perched on the man's right shoulder, it's black beak opened in a screech, blue eye looking intently toward Sam.

The man wore only a pair of blue pants, black boots and a single black leather glove on his right hand. A navy colored coat, a plain white T-shirt, and the matching glove were in a crumpled pile at his feet. Sam just stared at the figure of the man for a minute. Everything about the carving seemed so real, it was as if the man would start moving any second now. Even the sickly yellowish dirt beneath his boots seemed so detailed, almost as if Sam could just go over and scoop some up.

Clearly whoever had carved this piece was a genius. No stone left unturned in the work. If there hadn't been the subtle lines of wood grain, it would have easily been mistaken for real. He was reluctant, but finally he turned away from the carving. His gaze strayed toward the carving on the right wall, but his eyes did not reach it.

Standing straight ahead was a young girl. 'When...?' He thought. The girl just looked calmly at him with caramel brown eyes that gleamed with an intelligence far beyond her appearance.

"You're not a girl," He said.

"Excuse me?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, like, you're not a child." Sam corrected.

She just looked at him silently for a moment, her red hair shimmering as she tilted her head. "A strange greeting, but yes, you are correct. I am older than I appear."

"Who are you?" He asked. Somewhere in his mind he was surprised at his frankness.

"I am the tree."

"I don't understand."

"Hm. I do not know how to explain." Her head tilted left and she got a quizzical look on her face. "I am... the spirit of the tree? The soul? I suppose that would be the closest description though it still is not exactly right. I am only a small part of the tree. A part that lives at a fast pace."

"...I still don't get it." Sam replied, looking at the girl blankly. "Whatever. Doesn't really matter much. Did you make these carvings?"

"In a way, yes." The tree answered.

"What does that mean?"

"I did not create them on my own. I only did the carving. I saw the images in a 'vision' of sorts."

"I see..." Sam said, frowning slightly. "If you're the tree, then why would you carve into yourself?"

"Tattoos." The tree replied, smiling faintly. "It is the same concept."

"Hm... That makes sense." Sam muttered, still frowning. "Who is the man, do you know?"

The girl hesitated, looking at him. "No, I don't really know. When I carve, I go into a trance-like state. I am not sure of many details of any of my carvings, they sort of just... happen. The names of the pieces themselves are at the bottom. I'm not certain what they mean either."

Sam glanced over to the bottom of the carving. The name was Horizon. 'I see. It's because he's looking to the horizon perhaps?' Then, he looked to the right side of the room and let out a soft gasp. The carving was as stunning in quality as the one on the right, despite the completely different image.

It was focused on a young girl, around 10, he thought. She had dazzling icy blue eyes and golden blonde hair. Her face was clean, and her expression was full of excitement and curiosity. She wore a small red coat, and on her back she carried a matching satchel of dyed red leather. Below, she wore brown traveling pants with small black boots. Everything about her appeared clean and unused. As if she was just leaving on a journey.

Adding to that effect, far behind her stood a family waving after her. They were too far to really make out their faces, but they all appeared to have blonde hair. The apparent father leaned on a cane, and the mother had a hand on his shoulder. Three other children stood about them, one was clearly several years older than the other two, who appeared to be younger than five. They stood in front of a small building of two stories made of a combination of wood and brick. A sign was placed on the building, but it was unreadable from the acute angle.

The image was shown with the girl mid-stride, walking on a cobbled road. Other buildings surrounded the road. They were somewhat similar in appearance to the one the family stood before in that they were all well kept, well made, and mostly of polished wood rather than painted. It seemed quite a cheerful sight in comparison to the bleak setting of the other carving. Just below it, Daughter was scrawled.

"Do these have any sort of meaning to them?" Sam asked.

"Mm. Perhaps, but if they do, I do not know the meaning." She replied, looking thoughtful. "My people call me an oracle though I find it to be a misnomer. What I carve is only a possibility among many. Only a few of them ever happen."

"Are you saying that these are possibilities for my future or others?"

"They could be. I have no idea. Would you like to look at more of my carvings?"

"Um, I think I should probably be getting back. My companions are probably wondering where I've gotten off to. Maybe I can return after I've made sure my friend is healed." Sam said, though feeling quite tempted to take her up on her offer.

"Mm..." The tree looked up, tilting her head as if listening for something. "No, I suspect that won't be the right time. We will find each other again, though, young man. I hope that when we next meet that you will stay a little longer. However, before you go I must give you something. Please wait here." With that, the girl's body walked out of the room.

Sam waited, looking at each of the carvings again to burn them into his mind. He did not question her words, deep within him the belief that he would come to this odd tree once again grew. 'This is all so strange.' He thought. 'I should be incredulous, yet I am not. It's as if my emotions are being subdued somehow.'

A short time later, the girl of the tree returned. "Here is my first gift," She said, holding out her hand. In it, was a tiny seed. It was shaped like a sunflower seed, but it was colored a lustrous greenish-gold. "That is a seed of knowledge. As its name implies, when planted, it grows knowledge."

"Where should I plant it?" Sam asked, gently taking the seed from her small hand.

"In your mind." The tree replied.

"Do you mean that metaphorically?"

The tree laughed, with a sound like tinkling chimes. "No, press it to your forehead."

Sam did as she bid. As soon as the seed touched his forehead, it sunk in. A subtle feeling of pressure ensued. Then a final quick, sharp pain and it was done. "What did that do?" He questioned, rubbing his forehead with a slight frown.

"Over time, it will grant you knowledge of all languages. It is an intelligent plant, and will grow the ones you need most first. I imagine this will make your road a little easier. Earth knows it will be hard enough for you as it is, traveler." She replied.

'Traveler. The messenger also called me that.'

"And here is the second gift." She held out her other hand. A necklace rested in her palm, it's thin cord coiled up.

He took it, inspecting it. The cord seemed to be made of some sort of plant fiber, and the polished wood pendant was a deep cherry red. It had a weighty feel to it. Not a physical weight, it was actually very light, but it was almost as if it had a weight of power. On one side of it was carved in perfect lines, the letters XII. 'Twelve.' He thought. 'The twelfth of the prophesied, the messenger told me.'

On the opposite side was a carving of a tree. A bulbously based trunk with thick roots searching out from it. The bulbous base grew into a thinner upper trunk, then fanned out into a massive canopy of huge branches and broad leaves. It looked like the one he was in at that very moment, which he supposed made a little sense.

"What does this do?"

"A few things, but mostly it is so you may find my roots again. A gift rarely given." The tree replied. "Put it on. It will hurt a little for a moment, but it is quick."

"Like with the seed?" He asked, unfurling the cord and pulling it over his head.

"Not quite."

Not quite was quite an understatement. The pendant passed through his shirt as it fell against his chest as if it were incorporeal. A sudden excruciating pain shot through him. It felt like thorny roots were growing throughout his body, digging into him like a bunch of carnivorous worms. He wanted to scream, but all that came out was a soft rasp. Then it was over, and the pain slowly faded, leaving only a dull throbbing behind.

"Ouch," He whispered, holding his hand over where the pendant should have been. It was no longer there. He pulled down his shirt's collar, trying to find it. Instead, he found that the carving had transferred into his skin. Just below his collar bone the tree sat, just under that was XII. The lines were written into him with the pendant's dark cherry color, making it stand out obviously on his skin. "How am I supposed to reply when people ask what this is?"

"Do not fret, only parts connected to the tree will be able to see it."

"Alright. Well, I'll be off then, I suppose. Er, good luck with your carvings and whatnot." Sam said, turning and striding back out the door just like that. Part of him, a big part of him, wanted to stay longer, but something compelled him to leave right then.

"Ah, one last thing." The tree said, bounding toward him on bare feet as he stopped at the exit.

"Yes?" Sam asked. She gestured for him to lean down like she wanted to whisper in his ear. She pecked his cheek with a kiss, making him jump slightly despite the seemingly dampened emotions he'd been feeling. "Wh-What?" He stuttered as a flush of vitality seemed to emanate throughout his body.

"To keep you alert for the trials ahead." She explained, then gently guided him out the door. He was holding his hand against his tingling cheek. It felt like the pins and needles feeling he occasionally got in his feet. "Farewell, traveler."

Sam stumbled out, then fell into the soft embrace of the black moss.

When he woke, it was to the sound of Samson shouting into his mind, something about a tree.

'What are you freaking out about now?' Sam asked, rubbing his eyes. He felt surprisingly alert for having just woken up.

'You...! The tree! Blight you! The tree!' Samson responded, sounding incredulous. Sam imagined that if he'd still had a body that he would be waving his arms around and gesticulating in an exaggerated manner. 'How could you forget it already?!'

Sam felt alert and energized, but something seemed off. Like there was something huge missing. He looked around, ignoring Samson's mental shouting. He found that he had somehow nodded off while sitting on a cluster of roots that were unsurprisingly not comfortable at all. After pushing himself up, Sam shook out his cloak and started following the binds he'd left back to the carriage.

'Wait, you really don't remember?' Samson asked.

'No, I have no idea what you're talking about.' Sam replied, releasing each bind as he walked past.

'Alright, well you better brace yourself against something.'

'Why? What are...?' Sam tripped over his own feet as the sudden nausea pounded his head. "Uh-Uuugh..."

He just laid there with his face in the needle covered earth, unable to think, let alone move with the world spinning as it was. When he finally started to recover, he understood why Samson had been flipping out. 'Ah, now I remember.'

'What the fuck was that place?!' Samson exclaimed.

'How the hell should I know. This is your world, remember?' Sam answered. 'Was that some sort of "Tree of Life" or something?'

'Probably. I've never even heard of it, though. Oh, your memory got erased. That's probably the reason no one knows about it.' Samson said. 'For some reason I couldn't contact you, despite being right next to you. You were acting really odd in there too, it was like you were half asleep.'

'Really weird. Even for this world of fantasy, it was bizarre.' Sam said. 'Those carvings were beautiful, though. She, uh, the tree is really talented.'

'Yeah, sure. Do you think the seed really does what she said it does? Ah! That pendant! Check your chest!'

Sam stopped and pulled down his shirt. Sure enough, the tree mark and the roman numerals were still there, though they were difficult to see in the faint light of dawn. 'Well, if I didn't believe before, I do now.'

He started walking again as Samson spoke. 'I really don't know what to make of this experience. It seems significant somehow, but it feels like a lot of effort just to give you a little seed and a mark on your chest.'

'Maybe you can ask that Rentell dude when you meet him again.' Sam replied.

'Yeah, maybe. I'm still not certain I trust him quite yet, however. I only spoke with him for a short time. He didn't tell me who his "saint" was even though he knows who you are.'