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No, he was still wearing the white T-shirt he'd put on that morning, and it was still coated with dust from the archive room. 'So, we must have completely switched places? or maybe I really am just going mental, and this is something my mind conjured?' Sam tried to make sense of everything that had happened. 'No, this is way to vivid to be some sort of coma dream, or something.'
Sam realized that he would never be able to make sense of this all on his own, so he decided to go with the flow for now, and try to figure it out as he went. 'Ok, first I need to get out of this damn armor. How'd that guy even fight in this? It's almost fucking impossible to move in!' Sam grunted as he pushed himself to his knees.
Fortunately the rest of the armor seemed relatively easy to remove, compared to the chest plate and helm, mainly because he could see where it was attached. Finally, he was able to stand up. Sam felt his shirt stuck to his back, and decided to pull it off. As he pulled it over his head, he realized the back of it was no longer white, but crimson. The man who shared his name had left his blood behind, and Sam's shirt had soaked up most of it.
Sam tossed the shirt to the ground with the armor, after wiping his back with the clean side. He grabbed the sword that had lain next to him, and lifted it. It almost slipped from his hands as it came swinging upward, it was much lighter than he had expected it to be, considering its size. He grabbed the sheath it belonged to, and slid it inside after wiping the blood from it. He strapped on the sheath across his chest, so the sword on his back was easily reached with his right hand.
Sam took a deep breath, and scanned his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a battle field, corpses spread like a blanket along the dried plains. A few feet away, he saw the body of the man who'd killed the other Sam. Apparently having bled out as he tried to drag himself away. Sam almost laughed at the memory of the man sniveling like a little brat after other Sam severed his hand. 'The pretentious ass turned into a whiny bitch as soon as he was injured. Figures.'
Sam turned to walk in the opposite direction of where the slain man had headed, supposing he should go to whichever place other Sam belonged to. As he walked he continuously searched with his eyes, and ears for any sign of life. Tattered banners left abandoned fluttered in the slight breeze. Toward the edge of the visible battlefield, there were rickety looking wood towers with white canopies.
Nothing immediately caught his attention, and he guessed any who survived had already retreated. He had to skirt around the unmoving corpses carefully, they seemed to be everywhere. He had to plug his nose occasionally when he caught a whiff of fecal matter amid the fetid smell of death. While Sam strode onward, his thoughts began to wander. 'Did I travel back in time? Or maybe to another planet? Or perhaps this could be in the distant future, after some sort of apocalyptic event that sent humanity back to simpler times.' Ultimately, Sam doubted it really made much of a difference, but the questions made the time seem to go by quicker as he walked. He started to wonder if he'd be able to return home to his place in time, or his planet, or whatever his reality was.
After what felt like over an hour of walking, which in reality was closer to 20 minutes, he was able to make out the faint hustle and bustle of what he hoped was the army's camp. Sam began a steady jog, he was really hungry, and was hoping they'd feed him when he got there. 'All I've eaten today was that piece of bagel, and that was like, five hours ago, I think.'
Within five minutes of jogging Sam could see the camp in the distance. A dusty cloud shrouded the large encampment, and he could hear some strange melancholy music. He was not sure whether it was in celebration of victory, or an honoring of the fallen. As he approached, he heard a horn blare, and a figure began riding toward him on the back of what looked like a horse, but he couldn't quite tell from the distance.
He slowed his pace slightly as the rider came within a hundred yards. At this point, it was clear that whatever it was, it most certainly was not a horse. It looked almost like a cross between an ostrich, and a horse. It's body shape resembled a horse's, but the legs were orange and scaly. Each foot had four toes, three in front and one on the back, and each toe had a long ivory colored talon. The body was sleeker than a horse's, and it had long feathers all over, except for it's bald, pink head.
Sam waved to the rider dressed in sleek blue and black armor, but the rider returned no gesture. He wiped the sweat dripping from his brow as he slowed to a walk. He was somewhat afraid that the lack of a wave meant they thought he was an enemy, or something. He considered being ready to pull the sword, but the only thing he knew about how to use it was from a book he'd read about styles of sword fighting back in the eighth grade, and he remembered very little.
Finally, the rider pulled the beast to a stop, only 10 yards from Sam. As the person dismounted, Sam realized it was a woman. She grabbed something from a pouch at her side, and tossed it to the bird-horse. It snapped it out of the air between it's long yellow beak. Sam strode forward a few more feet then stopped, intending to wait for her to approach so he didn't seem aggressive.
As the woman turned, and walked toward him, he noticed that she seemed barely above five feet tall. Sam felt awkwardly tall, at about a foot taller than her. She said nothing as she approached, and Sam wasn't able to see any facial expressions beneath the helmet, thus he had no idea what sort of situation he might be in. Her gait was confident, but beyond that he couldn't tell anything. She stopped mid step as she came within a few yards. Sam's body was tense.
"Samson? Is that you?" she said, her voice soft.
Sam was shocked that he was recognized. 'What? How does she know me?' Then it hit him. The other Sam, the one he'd replaced, must have looked very similar to him.
"Uh, yea, I'm Samson." Sam replied, and before he could continue, he was hit with her body.
'Why is she attacking me? I thought she...' He stopped that thought as he realized it wasn't a tackle, but a hug.
"We all thought you were dead!" She cried.
Sam tried to process it, and think of a response. He tried to wriggle from her grip, but she held on tight while continuing to blubber out unintelligible words between sobs.
"Wait, I-I..." Sam didn't know how to say it. "I-I'm not the Samson you think I am!" he managed to stutter out.
Sam watched as the woman stopped talking, and unclenched herself from his waist. She pulled back, and looked up at him. Sam tried to say something, but nothing came out. She removed her helmet, and looked up at him with the most heartbroken looking expression he'd ever seen. Sam felt like a monster, even though it wasn't his fault, he'd given her back someone she cared about, then killed him again right there.
Her shoulder length brown hair was matted down by sweat, and warm brown eyes were blurred with tears. Her dirt dusted cheeks were streaked, and her lip was quivering. Sam looked into her eyes, nearly burst into tears himself. He knew all too well what that feeling was like, and felt buried memories start to surface. Sam forced his composure, he couldn't afford to break down.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to confuse you in such a way." He said, after swallowing the lump in his throat.
She wiped her eyes then looked him up, and down. Her face hardened immediately, and she glared up at him. Her body moved quickly, and Sam barely had time to move before the gauntleted fist struck his left eye. Fortunately, he'd moved just enough to avoid a broken nose, which was where she'd aimed. Just as he felt the first fist pull back, he felt the second hit him in the stomach. Sam doubled over, and wretched. Again, he tried to move, but the next blow was a kick directly to the testicles.
Sam grunted, and decided to just fall to the ground. There was nothing he could do at that point, the all consuming aching, stabbing, crunching pain had him as close to tears as the emotions had, less than a minute before. The next five minutes was a blur as he felt kick after kick, to his face, back, stomach, thigh, face again, and so on. The rest of the pain felt irrelevant compared to the incapacitating throb emanating from his crotch.
Eventually, it started to fade, and he felt all the other pain in full force. He coughed, and blood splattered the ground next to his head. He could barely see out of his swollen left eye, and not at all from his right eye. Sam raised his arms slowly to cover his face, and pulled his legs to his abdomen.
"P-Pleathe... sthobp..." He pleaded through his broken lips.
The beating ceased, at the sound of clacking claws, more riders seemed to be approaching. Sam's consciousness began slipping away, and he wondered if he'd die there. He coughed again, and one of his molars came out this time, along with the dark mixture of phlegm and blood. 'Maybe I should have... tried to get to the camp... before admitting that..." was the last thing he thought before blacking out...
Sam woke to find his eyes unable to open, and his body feeling like he'd taken a tumble down a mountain. He felt a hard surface below him, covered with a rough cloth. His head was still a chaos of drunken thought. His lips were crusted together by coagulated blood, so he breathed a deep breath through his nose. Instantly he regretted it. Pain stabbed him from multiple ribs, and he had to struggle not to tense up.
In the back of his mind, he started seeing those whirling patterns from before. So, he focused his attention to them, and found his pain faded back to a distant thought. Sam watched the writhing swirls for a while, until they started to melt away, gradually vanishing. As soon as they were gone, Sam's tumultuous roar of pain washed over him. He lost consciousness once again...
When he came to, his eyes were significantly less swollen, and most of his pain had faded to aches. Sam observed that his lips were no longer crusted shut, and he inhaled deeply. His ribs smarted, but did not feel nearly as bad as before. As he opened his eyes a gentle voice spoke.
"Good to see you're up."
Sam turned his head to see who it was. A portly woman in violet robes was sitting atop a cushion covered log.
"You've got quite the healing abilities," She said, "I couldn't have sped your progress even if I'd tried."
"Huh?" Sam blinked as he took in his surroundings. "How long was I out?"
"A little over an hour, if you count the time you were half-conscious." She said as she stood. "They sent me to come heal you, but all I was able to do was put your tooth back."
"Wh-What?" Sam stuttered out, his bewilderment obvious.
"You have some wondrous magical abilities within you." She said with a flourish. "When I tried to heal you with my own magic, I was able to glimpse it. I was almost pulled into it, it was so mesmerizing!"
Sam tried to process it all, but he was still in a sleepy daze. Before he got the chance to respond, the woman continued with enthusiasm.
"Where did you learn such powerful techniques? None of the institutions even in Stralden teach anything close to it!" Her green eyes were alight with curiosity, and she seemed to be eager for an answer.
"I uh... I don't really know." Sam said truthfully.
"Surely that mustn't have been self taught! It is far beyond anything you could discover in as little years as you've been around." The woman seemed to be just about jumping with excitement.
"N-No, I meant that I don't know where it came from." Sam replied after a moment of thought, he was still taking in the whole 'magic' existing part. Though he realized it shouldn't have been all that surprising, considering he'd somehow transported himself here... wherever 'here' was.
The woman brought him a cup filled with lukewarm water, and Sam took it as he sat up. The raised board he'd been lying on warped down slightly as his weight shifted, and the blanket that had been covering him fell to the side. Suddenly, Sam was embarrassed to find underneath the blanket his jeans had been removed. He scrambled to cover himself while the woman watched with amusement.
Sam relaxed as the woman sat. She looked him up and down for an awkwardly long time. He fidgeted under her gaze, and the water still in his hand dripped over the lip. He took a large gulp from the water, then looked back to the woman.
"Forgive my impertinence, what is your name young man?" Then she added, "It has been some time since I met one of power so far exceeding my own, and I let my elation get the best of me." Sam was surprised by the sudden formality.
"My name is Samson," he responded quickly, using his full name.
She raised her eyebrows. "So your resemblance goes beyond physical, hmm." She studied his eyes as she continued. "The woman that beat you half to death, was the older sister of a man named Samson. He did not make it back today."
Sam winced at the still vivid memories, of both experiencing Samson's death, and his own pummeling.
"The blade you brought back with you today was his." She said, her voice turning dark. "It is considered a grave offense to loot a warrior's body of gold, but a sword is on par with defiling the body. So you can understand her anger at seeing you with it."
Sam was stunned silent. His resentment toward the woman for beating him simmered, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He dropped his head forward.
"I-I didn't know of those... stigmas, I wouldn't have if I'd known." Sam said quickly.
"Calm, Samson we are aware of your ignorance. Your garb was indication enough that you came from foreign lands." She said, her gentle tone resuming. "I just thought to tell you so you wouldn't hold a grudge toward Dranissa, and so you would not make the same mistake."
"I see." Sam whispered, his head still down. "I'll be more careful."
"Before I go, I have one last question for you. How did you take the sword?" Sam raised his head at this.
With a raised eyebrow he said, "well it was lying on the ground unsheathed, so I took it and grabbed it's sheath-"
"That is all I needed to hear, thank you Samson." She cut him off. "I will send for someone to bring you new attire."
The woman finished with a slight curve of her lips, and sauntered out of the small canvas tent. Sam was left alone in the spartan accommodations. He glanced around, there were only three pieces of furniture in the space. The board he sat on, the short log across from him, and a small trunk at the foot of the makeshift bed. A small wooden bucket sat next to the log, filled with water.
Sam rose and stretched, his body was virtually free of any pain now. Only a slight soreness remained in his ribs, he assumed a few had been broken. He dug his bare toes into the soft dirt beneath him as he bent forward, stretching his legs. Once he'd loosened up he refilled his cup with water and chugged it down, then repeated the action. Finally, he rested back down on the bed on top of the blankets, and put his arms behind his head.
As he closed his eyes, he could faintly see the lustrous spirals that had somehow brought him to this world where magic supposedly existed, and people fought with swords. Sam focused on those infinitely intricate patterns, and felt himself becoming captivated by them similarly to when he'd been sucked in. However, this time he felt no fading of his consciousness, he could surprisingly sense the spectacular power hidden in those structures.
Sam was shocked from his reverie by the sound of someone clearing their throat. His eyes flew open, and caught sight of a girl holding a pile of dark colored cloth. She was looking off to the side, and her cream colored cheeks were splotched with a rosy color. It took Sam a moment to realize he'd been lying spread out, and exposed. He felt his own face grow warm as he sat up.
"Uh... sorry about that, I wasn't expecting someone to come so soon." He said with a nervous chuckle.
She thrust out the clothes toward him awkwardly, still avoiding his gaze.
"I-I'll b-be waiting outside while you try th-them on." The girl stuttered out in a high pitched voice.
Sam took the clothes and the girl scrambled out the slit in the tent, her lengthy skirt flapping behind her. He looked down to the clothing in his hands, atop the pile was a pair of shiny leather boots. He set the boots down on the ground and grabbed the navy colored cloth on top. It was a thin, silky, navy colored T-shirt with a short cut at the center of the collar, with black laces running between the two sides. He pulled it over his head, and it slid over his lean chest snugly.
Next, was a heavy, shadowy grey jacket, which he put on as well. He folded the collar down, and left the front unbuttoned. Then, there was a pair of similarly colored grey pants. Sam stood and pulled them up. He drew on the cord that laced the front of the pants, and tied them.
Finally, he grabbed the glossy black boots and sat on the covered log. Inside the left boot was a pair of folded black socks, he dusted his feet off and pulled them on. His feet fit into the boots just as perfectly as the rest of the outfit had, and he tied them tightly.
"Okay." Sam said with an exhale. "Miss? I think I'm finished up."
The girl hesitantly peeked inside. Then, seeing he was dressed she ducked back in.
"Wow... Lady Grettia is really amazing at guessing sizes." The girl muttered as she looked him up and down.
"Who's Grettia?" Sam asked curiously.
"Huh?" Sam noticed the girl staring at his chest. "O-Oh she's the healer, one of the best we have. The one who treated you."
"Ah, I see." Sam muttered. "Do you know if there's any food around? I haven't eaten since morning." He asked as his stomach grumbled softly.
"Um, I could check if there are leftovers, but supper finished about half an hour ago."
"That's fine, I don't mind cold food. I just need something to tide me over." He said with a half grin.
"Alright, I'll go check for you." The girl said and started out the door.
"Wait!" Sam said as he jumped forward and caught her hand. "I didn't get your name."
She turned to him, and Sam noticed how close he was standing. The girl looked up at him, her cheeks flooding with red.
"U-Uh my name?" She asked.
"Yeah."
"Why do you want to know?" She turned her head away nervously, her shoulder length brown hair flipping outward. "I'm just a servant, my name doesn't matter."
"I just would like to have something to call you, I guess." Sam said sheepishly.
She looked up at him again, her hazel eyes searching for something. Sam was tempted to avoid her gaze, but for some inexplicable reason, did not.
Finally, deciding she'd found whatever it was, "My name is Frenna."
Sam was caught by her kind eyes, and realized a few moments later that he'd been staring. He finally released her hand, and stepped back.
"Uh, nice to meet ya Frenna. I'm Samson, but you can call me Sam if you'd like." He said as he rubbed the back of his head and looked away.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw what he thought was a disappointed frown. He decided to disregard it. Frenna bowed low before Sam, and he was rendered mute for a few moments.
"I will see what I can do to get you some food, sir." She said in a more formal tone than was used before.
Sam tried to say she needn't refer to him as sir, but she dashed out of the tent quickly. "Th-Thanks Frenna!" he called out after her.
'These people are so proper. I think it's affecting me a bit.' Sam thought as he grabbed the empty wooden cup. He refilled it and sat down on the log. Sam sat there sipping the water that tasted strongly of minerals for nearly half an hour.
