Bound in Spirals Ch. 14

Here's chapter 14 folks.

Special thanks to Nick for his thorough help in editing this chapter.

Enjoy!

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"My lords and ladies, merchants and knights! Please, allow me to quickly state the rules." The finely dressed elf said as he twirled on the mat, flourishing with his coat.

Sam's gaze turned up from his hands, and once more he hurriedly looked around for someone he recognized. Again he saw Dettella's worried expression as she spoke to Giela rapidly. He realized that the balcony they stood on wrapped all the way around the arena. It was filled with elves in overly elaborate clothes and expensive looking hats. He noted that the majority were women, and the only human he could see was Dettella.

'Darrel! Where's Darrel?!' The man was nowhere to be seen on the balcony. Sam's attention was brought back down as the black-suited elf spoke again.

"There are four rules the fighters must know! Rule number one! You may only use fists to attack! Rule number two! You may only hit above the waist!" The man paused to settle the crowd once again as they got too loud. "Rule number three! You may not cross onto your opponent's side of the mat for longer than three seconds! Rule number four! The final rule; you may not use magic until at least one of the contestants is judged to be defeated!"

Sam looked down, and realized that the mat had two colored halves. His side was dark blue, the other was dark red. 'Am I really going to have to fight this dude? I'll get my ass kicked! Crap, what do I do?! I can't just run away, Dettella's up there watching! Shit, maybe I should do it anyway! I really don't understand what's going on! I—'

"With that, let the match begin!" The elf bowed smoothly and stepped off the mat.

His opponent lumbered forward, glaring at him through his nonexistent eyebrows.

"Well, fuck me..." Sam muttered, and began to walk forward slowly, bringing up his fists.

Being as distracted as he was, he didn't react nearly quick enough when the first blow came. The feeling of a barely covered fist hitting his jaw was quite a shock, to say the least. The pain didn't come at first, just the sudden jarring movement as his head snapped back. He fell straight backward, already unconscious as he hit the mat. He woke almost immediately to the reverberating roar of the crowd.

He was hit a second time, and although it wasn't physical it was just as jarring. The memories slammed into his mind ruthlessly, and he recalled some of the things that had happened.

Unsurprisingly, Sam was feeling quite depressed following his most recent bout of madness. Seeing the verdant green of Dettella's eyes had mostly woken him from the spiraling insanity, but the kiss had been a good way to ensure that the spell was completely broken for now. After telling her the truth of where he had come from, he sat in silent reflection.

In such a mood, Sam found no more delight in the beautiful city. The oversized mansions and elaborate decor just seemed excessive now, as did the people browsing that part of the city in their garish clothing. He now saw the straining smiles and forced cheering for what they were, a facade. Well, most of them were anyway. Some of the elves seemed genuinely happy to see them, but it was not nearly as many as he'd first assumed. The joyous children, of course, were true to their feelings in the innocent way they all are, yet untainted by the prejudices of the world.

He let out a breath as they approached the castle gates and, despite his subdued state, Sam felt a very faint flutter of anticipation in his stomach. 'I can't let my damned self-pity get in the way. I will trust Dettella to do her part, but I must be ready to assist if necessary.' The gates began to open as they slowed. They continued into the castle before coming to a complete stop.

The great courtyard was lined with the queen's guardsmen on either side, stood with a variety of swords pressed flat across their chests in a salute of some sort. Despite their shorter stature they emanated an imposing strength. The majority of them were men, but there were a few women scattered among the ranks. They stood stock-still as the carriage rolled slowly past, not even following them with their eyes.

Sam glanced at Darrel and saw him nod approvingly as he scanned the group of soldiers. Dettella just looked around with eyes full of wonderment, though he wasn't sure whether it was from the soldiers or the castle surrounding them. Sam's hand unwittingly moved to his sword's hilt and he was comforted by it's feel in his palm. The soft black leather gripped his fingertips slightly as he caressed the handle and he let out a trembling breath, releasing some of his tension with it.

He blinked, realizing that time had passed quickly again. His eyes flicked around rapidly, taking in the base of the tower as they stopped. They were at the bottom of a set of wide stairs leading to the great black doors set into the first layer of the tower. Sam, still dazed, stepped off the front seat of the carriage, turning instinctively to help Dettella down after him. She smiled at him and took his hand, gracefully stepping onto the stone ground.

A few minutes after dismounting, they led up the stairs by four guardsmen. The front door began to open slowly and silently as they approached. Sam had had his fill of enormous entrances for one day, and found this one to be unimpressive despite the magnificent carving of the queen's symbol glowing with bright blue binding magic set into it. The guards stepped to the side and let them pass.

The man Giela had spoken to earlier said a few soft words into her ear and she nodded. The instant they stepped into the tower a pair of servants appeared. They bowed and spoke, directing their words at Giela. Keeping his knowledge of the language a secret would be a useful advantage to have, so he kept his mouth shut. Though through experience he doubted he could keep it for long.

"We will guide your mistress and her man to the floors we have reserved for them."

Sam's surprise was shown only in the faint twitch of his left eye. With that, they were led into the tower...

Sam shuffled back from the man, trying to blink away the haze over his eyes. 'Shit!' The memories that had suddenly begun to flood back were nearly as disorienting as the fist greeting his jaw. He slowly stood, shifting his jaw as he rose. 'Damn it! Focus! I need to pay attention!' He shook his head, groaning at the thumping headache already starting to pain him.

Outside the walls of his mind, the faint sound of the crowds hurled insults began to register. Oddly, just as many seemed to be aimed at his opponent as at him. 'I see... Mountain elf.' He thought, still trying to shake away his dizziness. 'Damn, he really clocked me, didn't he?' Suddenly, a cold anger rose unbidden within him. Distantly, he thought it strange; anger wasn't all that common for him aside from recent thoughts of his family. Frustration and annoyance, certainly, but not true anger.

"Why the fuck am I here?! How on earth did I end up in this mess?!" Sam growled quietly. He took a deep breath. 'Calm down. I need to be clearheaded. What advantages do I have here? Range certainly. Perhaps speed, but not power. I'll have to use my longer range then and be aware of the line.'

"Blue loses a point for delaying!" The elf in the black suit shouted, his sonorous voice booming over the raucous crowd.

'Fuck you. Explain the rules better next time, asshole.' Sam thought, glaring at the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone flip a score card. '7 - 10. It's a countdown to zero?'

He turned his attention back to his opponent who waited in a defensive stance with his fists raised to block his face. 'Too short for me to get any decent hits on his torso... Head seems easiest.' The man glanced toward the announcer for a split second and by the time his eyes had moved back Sam had already sprung. Sam twisted his hips, getting as much power as he could out of his first punch.

The elf held firm, and he would have deflected the blow had Sam not shifted his aim from the nose at the last second. He lost some power, but his fist struck the man straight in the center of his forehead. The shorter man stumbled back, his eyes looking even more glazed than before. He fell on his backside, but he managed to rise shakily to his feet a second later.

'Shit. I'm an idiot.' Sam thought, looking down at his shattered right hand. Gripping his wrist he hissed in pain. "Ghahhh! Damn that fucking hurts!"

His index and middle fingers were clearly broken. A small, sharp piece of blood coated bone protruded from the back of his hand in line with his middle finger. Gritting his teeth, Sam stood straight again, still carrying his right arm gingerly. 'Damn it. Broken right hand against a clearly experienced fighter? Yeah right. It'd take a hell of a lot of luck, and lady luck has never been particularly fond of me. Wouldn't expect her to start now.'

He waited for the elf to be ready again, still unsure of how he would manage. 'Why should I even try to win here? I can just forfeit, right? If I can't do that, then I could just delay until they take away all of my points. If that doesn't work I could take a hit and pretend to be down. I'll just give up, no need to continue on like...' More memories began to slam into him.

"Just up here." Giela said over her shoulder as they reached the bottom of another flight of stairs.

Sam shook his head. 'What? How many stairs have we climbed? I need to stop zoning out like that...'

"Samson, isn't this tower wonderful?" Dettella said, looking at him with eyes full of excitement. "Each floor represents a different era for the elves. Every time a new queen is crowned a new floor is built for her and the outside is carved to her specifications. It takes decades to complete due to the time it takes to carve elnelwood; it's nearly as strong as steel, while being only half the weight."

"Ah, yes. Wonderful. Of course." He replied absently.

"...You're not paying attention." She said, pursing her lips.

"Not really. Sorry. I'm feeling a bit out of sorts right now."

"Yes, I can tell." She said softly, a tinge of her concern leaking into her words. "Well, perhaps a warm bath will help. I find it's easier to concentrate when I'm clean."

Sam nodded, still not paying her his full attention. One of their guides turned and spoke softly to Giela again.

"Alright, this is the floor Lord Samson will stay on. Along with Fenella, Vielchena, and Theodore." Giela said. "Milady, we will be staying on the next floor. Er... Sir Darrel will be with us as well, I suppose."

Sam turned from them as they headed up to the next floor, not hearing Dettella's words. He walked through the arched entryway, not seeing the gilded leaf patterns inlaid into the wall, nor the lavish furniture of a vivid dark green, not even the grand ivory throne set into the center at the end of the grand main hall. He felt so out of himself that he didn't even think to check on Theodore as Darrel carried him in.

The next thing he knew he was sat in a big polished wooden basin, scrubbing the dirt from his skin. He held soap smelling of spiced rum in his left hand and a washcloth colored like old parchment in his right. He continued to clean himself, uncaring of the elf handmaiden standing only a few yards away. He was self-aware enough to realize he was in a dangerous mood. Not only could the inattentiveness of this odd brooding imperil himself, but it could ruin the chance to get Theodore healed.

Despite that thought, he couldn't shake it off. The feeling of impassivity was overpowering any emotion he tried to dredge up. The only thing that came close was the self-hatred that arose at this, but even that was engulfed by the black hole of utter emptiness he felt. 'Why? Why do I feel this way? Is it some sort of hopelessness? If it is, then why? Why am I hopeless? I have Dettella, Letta, and Theodore. There is a lot I have to hope for. So why? Perhaps that's not it then. Is this another side effect of the madness? I don't know... I don't know anything...

'I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know? I don't understand? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? ...Prophecy? No? ...Hanged? Me?I?I?! ...I am hanged? ...12 spikes dig into my neck and I bleed to my toes? Why? ...Must keep walking? ...Change? ...Death? ...Stagnation? ...Not me, no. What is this? ...The 15 spins round and round? ...Ah. The spikes, they hurt? ...They hurt me deeply? ...The spikes of truth? ...The truth hurts me? ...My hand? ...Where? ...Given to who? ...What do I do? ...What, what? ...Someone tell me... I can't... No... Please, Please, Pleeeasse'

Then he was suddenly alright. Sam stood next to Dettella again, with his emotions seeming to have returned. A rush of anxiety blew through him as he realized where he was. His legs ached after climbing so many stairs. His clothes had apparently been cleaned recently, as they had a very faint dampness to them still. His sword rested at his hip again, and his cloak felt heavy on his shoulders. When he turned his head to look at Dettella, he didn't feel the scratching of his whiskers against his neck.

He sucked in a quick gasp of air as he saw her. She seemed to radiate, which he imagined was caused by both her bath and the excitement that almost vibrated the air around her. Her hair looked a little more golden, and her smile was bright and genuine. He slowly turned his head again, looking back up at the tall oval shaped door. The carvings decorating the pale, purple colored wood seemed to be reversed somehow. The pattern stuck out of the wood, rather than being set into it.

The carving depicted a great hoshind made with a pattern of tree needles in place of fur. It was the best carving Sam had seen since meeting the tree, yet it still couldn't come close in intricacy.

"Samson, I asked if you were ready?" Dettella said beside him.

"Huh? U-uh yeah. I'm, um, I'm fine." He said softly, trying to remember everything that had happened. Looking around, he saw Darrel behind them and felt some relief at his presence. Though he wasn't so relieved to see Fenella there as well. "I'll be fine... Yes, yes. I'm good. I'm alright. Just a little tired."

The so-called herbalist clicked her tongue at him disappointedly as if to say, 'you can do better than that'. Both the high guardsman and the healer seemed to have cleaned up, too. Fenella's tightly curled brown hair looked glossier and less matted, and Darrel's thick, steely beard had been trimmed smartly. Sam ran a hand through his hair and was surprised to find it had been trimmed as well.

"Good. Giela, please let them know we are ready." Dettella said, smiling broadly. She leaned toward Sam and whispered into his ear, "Make sure you kneel to her when we are introduced. Only one knee should be necessary.

"I-Is that all?" Sam whispered nervously.

"Yes, that will be fine." She replied. "Ahh, I'm so very excited! I feel like a little girl again!"

An elf in a tame suit of dark purple slowly pushed the heavy door open, then she began to speak "The Princess Dettella Reyall of Crestell and Lord Samson Wallace of Oregon. Accompanying them are Giela Maegdien of Geylin, the herbalist Fenella Ranlenn of Eltinn, and the sword captain Darrel Vanetiell of Crestell."

The elf stepped aside and bowed low as they stepped into the grand hall. Sam was left dumbstruck by the sight of the elf queen. She was the most elegant woman he'd ever seen. Sea foam hair cascaded down her shoulders falling all the way to the small of her back, its luster comparable to that of a crystal. A relaxed smile split her perfect face, genuine in it's warmth. The mint green dress she wore was opulent yet simplistic in design. The neckline exposed the barest amount of her modest cleavage and the slinky fabric accentuated her curvature by clinging to it as she moved.

Yet her beauty was not what captured his attention so intensely, it was the power that seemed to radiate from her. Not in the sense of a queenly presence, but in a magical sense. It felt like calm ocean waves lapping at his bare feet, and just as tangible. Her gaze rolled over them, stopping briefly on Dettella, then stopping on him for an even longer time. In that moment, her pale, blue-gray eyes seemed to see through him utterly, and her smile grew broader.

As it passed over him and reached Darrel, she raised an eyebrow at him. Darrel did not react. She spread her arms wide, turning her gaze back to Dettella. "Welcome to my home. I am grateful to have such a group of interesting guests." Elleifren spoke with the type of voice that pleases the ears. Sultry and smoothly accented. Not unlike Dettella's, though the princess did not have quite the same undertone of sensuality. "A letter sent in advance would have been appreciated, but I understand that you were in a bind of sorts."

Dettella curtsied gracefully and Sam quickly knelt. Giela fell to her knees, lowering her head to the ground. Darrel followed suit, as did Fenella. The queen stepped off her dais and approached with a grace matching Dettella's.

"Please, no need for this." She said, bending down to take Sam's hand. "Please rise, Samson. No need for the bowing, especially between equals."

Sam shivered at her touch, standing shakily. "W-Wow..." He muttered.

She shuffled left and took Dettella's hand in her other. "Princess Dettella, you need show me no deference either." She squeezed their hands gently then released them. She then stepped between them toward Giela. "My dear, please stand. Your mother is excited to see you, you know. I will try not to keep you from your reunion for too long."

She helped the handmaiden to rise and brushed the tears from the elf's eyes. For her part, Giela looked like she was on the verge of losing consciousness. The queen then released her and stepped to Fenella. "Who do we have here? Do you know? So mutable. How intriguing..." Elleifren helped the liar to her feet and patted her shoulder reassuringly. Chuckling softly, she said, "Worry not, herbalist. I'll say no more."

Finally, she turned to Darrel. She helped him to rise as well, then looked up into his steely eyes. "Ah, I understand..." She said, reaching up to caress his cheek. His eye twitched ever so slightly as her hand touched. "Well, we'll see what I can do about that. Oh, I am becoming distracted. Please be at ease, all of you. We have much to discuss."

As the queen strode back to her previous place at the dais, Sam tried to formulate some semblance of a coherent thought. His hand still felt warm from her touch. In the moment when she'd gently squeezed his hand, a feeling of complete comfort and safety had burst through him. It had utterly cleansed him of his worries, though they were already beginning to resurface.

"Would you like to see my breasts?" The queen asked casually.

'What?!' Sam's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he noticed no one else was reacting.

"Haha. Worry not, Samson. I was just looking to see who knows my language." Elleifren said.

He was left so off balance that he had difficulty replying for a moment. Dettella looked at him questioningly. 'Damn.' Finally he managed to speak. "O-Oh, I don't know the language. I, I just recognized one of the words you used."

"Ooh, a clever reply. But you wouldn't have been able to pick out the word you say you recognized. Because the accent here makes it nearly impossible to recognize the root word without understanding the entire sentence." She smiled. "A worthy attempt though, considering you were on the spot. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone outside of this room. You might yet get to use that advantage."