Bound in Spirals Ch. 12

Frinala grumbled tiredly under her breath. "Well, Deomie started it, damn her. She said that I was weak-willed. Even though she took your stew too." She shook her head frustratedly, then pulled her knees up and hugged them. "The men are just following along. Foolish creatures..."

"Ah... Well, anyways, was that all you wanted to ask me?" Sam said, figuring out a way to change the subject.

"No, there was another thing..." The elf hesitated, then her eyes rose to meet his once again. "Why did you not kill me in the fight? Why let me live?"

"That..." Despite having known what her question would be beforehand, Sam had not found an answer. He was silent for a long time, just trying to remember why he had done it. "I... Well, I don't really know why I did it, I honestly can't really remember. It all happened so quickly and, well you wouldn't have seen it, but I lost control of my magic shortly after that, so I have a few blank spots in my mind."

Sam heard a soft choking noise from the carriage, but Frinala didn't seem to have noticed it. 'Your princess and her handmaiden are eavesdropping in there.' Samson told him. Sam just disregarded it for the moment.

The elf's eyes to bored into his, searching for something. He held her gaze, unsure why he did. "I... I understand." She muttered, looking back down. "But... How did you lose control of your magic?"

"Ah, well... Basically, I was torn in half horizontally by the biggest hoshind, and Sa... Ahem, I had to use an enormous amount of magic to rebind my body. It has a tendency to overpower my mind a bit, I guess my willpower isn't very strong or something." He laughed, embarrassed to admit his weakness.

"Y-You have enough power to do that?" Frinala looked at him incredulously.

"Um, yeah, I guess so..." He rubbed at the back of his head.

"The argwolf is yours...!" She realized. "But, ain't human males supposed to be relatively weak? Why are you so powerful?"

Sam shrugged, looking away. "Luck of the draw?" He said although his thoughts contradicted his words. Since that morning, he'd begun to suspect that his high magic level had something to do with the whole 'Hanged Man' business though he wasn't really sure what it meant yet. It certainly sounded foreboding, though...

"...Alright then, I suppose... I suppose I will have to be satisfied with the answer you gave me." Frinala finally replied, her voice quietly thoughtful.

"Yeah... I'm sorry I can only give you a vague answer. I suppose the best I can give is that I just had a feeling. That's pretty vague though too. Gah, I don't know..." Sam said, still feeling embarrassed. His unease was made clear by his rapid speech and slightly shaky voice. "W-Well, if that's all you wanted to ask, I need to go get ready..."

"Yes... That was all I wanted to know. Thanks for being honest with me." She said, her eyes downcast. It was clear that she was hardly paying him any more attention, she was too deep in her own thoughts.

Sam quickly stood and hurried away, anxious to be freed from that awkward atmosphere. Dettella met him around the other side of the carriage, followed closely by Giela. He meant to speak first, to ask why she'd left him all alone with the elf, but she beat him to it.

"Samson!" She said in an urgent whisper, "Why did you just tell her that you had no idea?!"

He frowned. "Y-You said to be honest... Should I have said something different?"

She grimaced. "Well, yes I suppose I did say that..." She shook her head vigorously. "Blight! Ah, well it's too late now anyway. We'll just have to hope she appreciates your honesty enough to defend us to the queen. If not... Well, it will be quite troublesome for all of us, to say the least."

"Okay..." Sam said quietly. He felt like a fool for not saying the right things, for disappointing Dettella. "I-I'm sorry."

His shoulders trembled. 'She's not going to like me anymore... She'll think I'm an idiot, incompetent. I don't deserve her fancy anyway, I'm just a pathetic excuse for a man. I'm not strong enough...' Everything around him was cast in shadow all of a sudden as if a cloud had just blocked the sun. 'I need to be punished more. I need to be hit, cut, abused...'

'Hey! Why are you saying this stuff?' Samson asked he sounded worried. 'Why care what she thinks? She's just a spoiled little princess anyways. You can be your own man, Sam. Weakness is subjective. You've been torn apart, stabbed, slashed. Yet you still keep going! You've kept going all this time, for Theodore! Don't let the words of some uppity bitch get to you!'

'She's not an uppity bitch!' Sam replied vehemently, then went on, 'I-I love her... So, it's alright. She can abuse me. I need to be beaten. I'll, I'll just let her use my sword...' He unbound the sword from his waist and held it out to Dettella, who was still standing there, watching him with eyes full of disappointment and anger...

———

Dettella watched uncomprehendingly as Sam's expression became full of anguish. His face looked as if he was witnessing his family being butchered brutally before him. 'Wh-What? What happened?' His body seemed to shrink as he hunched forward, pulling his arms around himself. Then, he began reaching for his sword. He unbound it, then held it out, gripping it on the sheath just below the narrow cross guard.

"Why...? What is he doing?" Giela muttered.

"What's wrong Sa—"

"Punish me." Sam said, cutting Dettella off. "Cut me... Please."

She couldn't manage a response. 'Why is he acting like this...? Why did his mood swing so suddenly? What caused it?' As she watched, Sam's expression changed. He gritted his teeth, struggling against something.

"Damn it, Sam! Stop this!" Sam said. His eyes were harder, steelier, not nearly as melancholic. "What's gotten into you?!"

'That doesn't sound like Samson, that's a Straldan accent. What is going on?' Dettella shook her head, but it didn't clear. She was rendered incapable of action.

———

Samson struggled to pull back Sam's hand. 'Damn, why is he overreacting like this?!' He gritted his nonexistent teeth. "Damn it, Sam! Stop this!" He said. "What's gotten into you?!"

'I, I need punishment. I've displeased her...' Sam replied, sounding on the verge of weeping.

Sam wrested control from Samson, shoving him away. Samson floundered in the waves of magic for a moment before finding his balance. He lunged back toward Sam as he stopped paying attention to him.

"Please..." Sam said, "Just stab me."

Through his eyes, Samson saw the terrified expressions of the princess and her servant. 'He's acting so... so insane. Is this a "panic attack" as he called it? No, no this is much different.' He recalled the memories he'd seen in Sam's mind. 'No, he's getting worse. Ever since he's come to this world... Could this be battle mania? Is all of the death finally getting to him?'

He gripped Sam and yanked him away from his body, then took his place before his body could fall limp. 'Quick, say something! Get him out of there!'

"Uhh... Sorry, I'm just kidding of course. All just a joke, haha." Samson said. "I, uh, I'm gonna go take a piss."

He sprinted into the forest, leaving behind the utterly befuddled women. Sam writhed, trying to retake control. Without thinking, Samson made a small room with his magic, trapping Sam outside. The gold and silver swirls battered against his meager amount of bright blue.

"Phew..." He stopped running, feeling the exhaustion catching up to him. "Fuck, why do I tire so quickly?"

He'd barely managed to make it a hundred feet into the forest. The sound of Sam raving outside the tiny room brought him back to the current situation. 'Fuck you, Sam. Why do you have to be so difficult?'

'I need pain. I need it. I deserve it. I've done something wrong. I made her angry. I messed up. I killed Theodore. I always do this. I should die. I—'

'SHUT UP!' Samson was fed up. 'She isn't angry at all! Are you fuckin' blind?! Quit your goddamn crying! You didn't mess up, you did exactly what she told you to do. Can't you see? She wasn't frustrated with you, she was frustrated with herself.'

'No... No, she hates me.'

'Wha- did you not hear what I just said?! Open your eyes!' Samson shoved the memory of that moment into Sam's head, several times. Showing him, making it blatantly clear that the princess's frustration was directed inward. 'Do you see now?!'

Sam didn't respond, but the waves of his magic no longer crashed against Samson's. With the sudden peace, he was given a moment to think back again. 'He's getting worse. Ever since he's come to my world, his mind has continuously deteriorated. Damn it! What do I do?! I can't let him go on like this, but how do I fix him? Is it even possible?' Now Samson felt like breaking down. It felt like a huge weight on his figurative shoulders.

He'd never had such a heavy responsibility. Of course, he could always just give up, right? Why should he have to help Sam? He didn't know anything about the issue, nor did he have the emotional capacity to help him. He didn't want to have to save this man from the madness for him. He would probably just end up going insane with him! He couldn't do it, he was just a man. He wasn't even smart, barely above average, at best.

All he knew how to do was fight. That was how he'd had to live ever since he was born. His mother made sure of that, damn her. What could he do? A mere man. A violent, quick to anger, stupid man. He felt like breaking down and weeping with Sam. He didn't want to fight, he'd been forced to do it. He didn't want to kill people. People who likely had families, people they loved and were loved by.

He'd been made to do it, by his mother, by the queen, by societies expectations. He was a man, he had to fight. It was that or become a slave and let his family suffer, lose their home. His mother could go fuck herself, but his dad? His sister? Damn it, he missed them. He wanted to go home again. He wanted to see his family. He had just wanted to live a mundane life. He just wanted peace. Still in Sam's body, Samson began to cry.

Tears fell down Sam's cheeks. He made no sounds beyond the soft sniffling. The first time he'd cried since he was 14. He cried out his bottled anger at his mother for treating him like trash, his anger at the queen for making him fight a war that didn't do anything for him. He cried his grief for the friends who had died in the war, his grief for his sister who loved him who had probably died as well. He cried for all of the people he had killed, all of the people who had lost loved ones by his hands...

His sobbing ceased a few minutes later. Tears no longer fell. He brushed the dampness from Sam's cheeks with his hands. Sat against a tree, Samson looked up. Up at the dim light streaming through the thick foliage of the forest, and he laughed. He hadn't realized how much he'd been holding in. How much pain he'd hidden in his chest. It felt as if a pressure had been released with his tears.

All he could do was fight. But that wasn't so bad, was it? He could fight. He would fight. For Sam, for his friend. He would fight on with alacrity because this time he was the one making the choice to. Not the queen, not his mother, him. He smiled. This was a burden he could carry.

Then, he gasped. A sudden revelation hit him. He'd figured it out. He finally realized what was causing Sam's condition to worsen. "The magic... The magic! It has to be the magic! How did I not see it before?! Damn, and I was calling him blind." He grinned, smacking Sam's forehead with his palm. "I'm fucking stupid. Well, at least I wasn't too stupid to figure it out! Ha! With as much magic as he has, it'd be ridiculous if he wasn't going mad!"

'Sam! I figured out why you're going insane!' He shouted out at Sam mentally. The man was still silent, his magic unmoving. 'Sam...?'

Sam finally spoke, in a voice so quiet that Samson had to strain to hear it, 'I'm really losing my mind, aren't I? I mean literally, I am going mad.'

Samson winced, the pain in his voice was palpable. He took a moment to reply. 'I...' He paused, considering lying, but discarded the idea. 'Yes, I think the magic is affecting you. I think it's... Well, it's just my theory, but I think it's "enhancing" many of the negative emotions you're feeling. On top of creating new negative thoughts, of course. I-I'm sorry Sam, I should have thought about it when I realized how much greater the "glee" was...'

When Sam did not respond, he continued. 'I'm here for you. You know that, right? I will help you deal with this. We can work on helping you get a grip on your magic, I've heard a few methods that seem to make it easier, if a little slower. And... well, as reluctant as I am to admit it, the princess does seem to be concerned about you, at least...' Sam still did not respond. '...I'll, uh, I'll give you your body back now.'

Samson released his magic and let himself fall away from Sam's body...

———

Sam looked down at the reddish brown soil below him, unable to think. Up until this point, he'd been denying that he was actually, really losing his mind, but now... He couldn't hide from it anymore. The fact that his 'panic attacks' were nowhere near what they had been was undeniable. It used to be just a slight shortness of breath for a little while, then he'd be fine. Now, they came with painful flashbacks, desires for pain, desires to hurt others, memory lapses...

Samson's words rang true. The power was corrupting him, though not in the way power typically does. He felt hollow. How is a man to react when he finds out he's going crazy? Does he weep? Does he embrace insanity's whims? Does he fight it? Does he kill himself before he can no longer make his own decisions? Does he...?

"Samson...!" He heard Dettella calling in the distance.

He didn't reply. He didn't want her to see him at that moment, at his worst. He wanted to curl up and just die. He wanted to give up. What would anyone care? Sure, they might grieve for a little while, but they'd get over it. He barely knew anybody here. He'd only known Theodore a couple days before he'd gone comatose. He'd only known Dettella for what? Three? Four days? If he thought about it, he'd spent the most time with Fenella out of all of the people here.

Fenella of all of them would probably care the least. She was a strange woman, to say the least. Her personality seemed to change by the day. Kind and caring one day, to gruff and callous the next. Darrel, he was just teaching him how to use the sword, and he hardly even talked except to give pointer between sparring. Was he forgetting anyone? Well, there was Vielchena, the strange elf who had followed him out of Fraeline. He still wasn't sure what to make of her, but he doubted she'd care much either.

Then... Letta. Letta would care. He could convince himself that none of the others would care, but not Letta. She had the loyalty of a dog and the protective attitude of an older sister. She'd helped him, protected him, cared for him through all of this. He realized at that moment that he hadn't been paying her as much attention as she deserved lately. He'd been so caught up with training and spending time with Dettella that he'd almost forgotten her. The guilt of that alone was enough to shove away thoughts of dying.

Sam let himself return to reality a little, let his senses reach out. He could feel Samson's worry pulsating in the back of his mind, and he heard the princess still calling for him in the distance. Closer, he heard the soft, crisp sound of something treading on tree needles. 'Letta?' He hoped, looking up from the ground. No, it wasn't her. Life doesn't always create perfect coincidences like that, unfortunately.

"It seems you've finally realized, based on that look in your eyes." Fenella said, stepping around the nearest tree, balancing herself against the rough reddish bark. Her curly brown hair bounced with each step she took. "Your magic is influencing your mind." She stopped, standing a few feet in front of him.

He looked back down. In a voice void of emotion, he spoke. "You knew, then." He paused. "Why not warn me?"

It was a minute before she replied. When she finally did speak, it was only one word. "Curiosity."

"Curiosity." Sam repeated, feeling the word roll off his tongue with contempt. "I see. I think I've learned more of what kind of person you are with that one word than all of the days I've traveled with you."

"Think what you will." She said, leaning back against the tree with her arms crossed. "I am a liar, in many ways, but that answer was a truth."

Sam chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. "Do you ever wonder if you're a bad person? Do you ever wonder if anyone would care if you just disappeared? Died? Would people grieve for you, or would they celebrate? Or perhaps just be indifferent?"

Again, it took her time to answer. "I have an odd impulse to tell you the truth of my thoughts. This is not a common thing for me, you see... Very well, I suppose it does not matter either way, no one listens to a madman." She tapped her forearm with her index finger for a moment, then continued. "I am most certainly not a good person. Though, I would not say I am bad either. The world is not so black and white, as I am sure you have, or will, learn. As for what other's would think upon my death? Well, I suppose that would depend on what person I was to them. Is that the answer you seek?"

"...Who are you?" He asked, not sure if he really cared to hear the answer or not.

"Who am I? I am Fenella Ranlenn, the eccentric, yet spirited, healer." The liar said. "Or do you mean to ask who I really am? Well, I cannot guarantee my answer to that will contain the truth."

Sam realized then that he really did not care at all. At least, not at that moment. 'Sam, I think it might be a good idea to avoid talking to her...' Samson advised. 'She's shady, at best.'

Sam ignored him. "Tell me anyway." He said, trying to dredge up some semblance of curiosity.

"I am just a woman who enjoys telling a good story." She replied simply. "Who are you, Samson Wallace?"

"Me? I am a traveler." Sam replied, finally looking up to meet her eyes. "You'll find no happy ending in me."

"A tragedy, eh? What a coincidence." She grinned. "That's my favorite kind of story."

With that, the liar left, and he contemplated what she'd told him. He wondered if she'd had a purpose in talking to him. Sam remained there for a time, unsure if he could continue on as he had.

—————

Thus ends Chapter 12. Thanks for reading guys! If you have time, please leave a comment! I love reading them and I always look forward to seeing what you guys think! I think that's one of the most rewarding parts of writing, hearing what others think and connecting to them through your own work, so don't hesitate to leave a comment about anything. :)