Second Skin Omnibus

by M Damon Baker

  After traveling a few more miles, I decided it was time to share what I had discovered last night with my friends. Gathering them together, I broke the bad news as gently as I could.

  “I checked our course last night,” I began. “The path towards the next piece turns west ahead, off the main road.”

  No one responded immediately. Instead, everyone took a moment to consider the impact of what it would mean for us to leave the safety of the caravan behind and strike off into the wilds on our own. I let them walk on in silence, waiting for one of them to respond to my dire revelation.

  “Shit, why not?!” Khorim final proclaimed. “You still have those resurrection scrolls, right?”

  “I do, master dwarf,” I said, returning his sarcastic grin. “But hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.”

  Broda let out a huff at his display of bravado, but did not object.

  “How far ahead will we be leaving the road?” Stel asked, implying his consent to proceed in the question.

  “Hard to tell right now,” I replied. The directions from the two joined pieces were maddeningly vague. “If I had to guess though, I would say we should reach our turn sometime late in the afternoon.”

  “Very well,” Stel replied. “Since I do not wish to carry all this extra weight on our little trek through the woods, I will see about selling as much of our loot as possible before then.”

  Before he could set off, I called him back.

  “Stel,” I asked, “would it be alright if I join you and try my luck trading with a few of the merchants?”

  With my Manipulation and Persuade talents increasing on their own, I had decided it would be a good idea to try to actively work on those skills. I had great success the few times I had used Barter, so hopefully, I could wheedle out a few extra coins in the process.

  “I was wondering how long it would be before you asked,” Stel replied with his usual smirk. I would have found the expression mildly annoying if he wasn’t always so on-target with his barbs.

  I punched him in the arm as we walked away towards the head of the caravan. Stel pretended to rub his shoulder and I could hear Venna’s soft laughter as we left the others behind. Reaching the lead wagon, Stel laid out his strategy.

  “As you may recall from the first day when we walked among the wagons, a surprising number of these merchants are female,” he began.

  I did remember being mildly surprised to discover that fact. Although nearly all of the wagons were driven by couples and even more than a few contained entire families, a large number of the actual businesses were conducted by the women. I even recalled a few sideways glances being thrown in my direction that day.

  I suddenly realized his implication.

  “I see you understand,” Stel continued. “You do realize the effect you have on other women? Especially the married ones?”

  I had noticed the not-so-subtle glares that had often been cast my direction. Across a crowded tavern or even just passing in the street, the way some women clutched their lovers or tried to stare me down had not gone unnoticed. So far, I had chosen to ignore them, writing them off as insecure or overly-possessive little children, but Stel was right—it was something I would need to take into account, especially in any important dealings.

  “Let me deal with those merchants,” he concluded with his trademark smirk. “Something tells me your luck will be better with the men anyway.”

  We made our way slowly through the caravan, offering up for sale all of the items we had looted from the bandits. Several of the merchants were uninterested in what we had to offer, as they dealt in other goods. However, those who did trade with us hardly negotiated at all and seemed to offer prices well above what we had expected to receive.

  For once, it seemed that more than my own unique luck was in play. The generous deals were given regardless of whether it was Stel or I who conducted the negotiations, and by the time we were only halfway through the caravan, we had managed to sell all our items for a handsome profit. As we walked slowly back towards Birt’s wagon and our companions, I gave voice to the thought that had been on both our minds for quite a while.

  “That was an additional ‘thank you’ for last night, wasn’t it?”

  “I believe so,” Stel replied. “None of them bought any items that they did not normally deal in, nor did they pay a price that would deny them a chance for profit, but we certainly did receive far more coin than I had expected.”

  Returning to walk alongside our companions, Stel and Venna worked quietly together to divide up our proceeds. As they finished filling up another round of coin purses to distribute, Birt poked his head out from inside the wagon.

  “I hear you’ll be leaving us later today,” he said. “Step up inside the wagon. I have a parting gift for you.”

  We had asked Venna to break the news to Wenda and Birt while we were off selling our loot. Apparently, once she told him we would be leaving, Birt had decided to offer a token of friendship before our departure. Maneuvering up to the open door behind the wagon, I stepped up and climbed inside.

  Inside was a veritable artist’s palette of cloths and silks in every conceivable shade and an innumerable variety of textures, all carefully arranged in a series of protective shelving. Were it not for the meticulous organization, I doubted the wagon’s interior could have held even half the fabric that was displayed before me. The array was almost dizzying with its variety, and I found myself simply staring at the sheer beauty of all the material.

  “I have already given my gifts to your other friends,” Birt said, breaking me from my trance.

  “Yours is in the changing area,” he said, indicating a small, curtained-off corner. “If you would try it on, I can make a few quick adjustments before you have to leave us.”

  I shed my weapons and armor, leaving only my regular black clothing to deal with in the small confines of the dressing room. Passing inside the curtain, I saw a small, neatly folded bundle of emerald green cloth placed upon a chair. Stripping down, I unfolded the garment and was surprised to see the outline of an elegant gown. I had been expecting perhaps a set of practical traveling clothes or maybe a nice outfit suitable for wearing in town, but instead, this was a dress appropriate for a royal ball. I must have let out a gasp, because Birt called out to me from the other side of the curtain.

  “Just put it on dear,” he said patiently. “I’ll explain when you come out.”

  I fumbled with the garment for a while before finally figuring out that I had to step into the dress from behind before fastening it up the back. I couldn’t quite reach the last few buttons, so I left them undone as I stepped out from behind the curtain.

  Birt’s eyes flew open as I emerged, prompting me to quickly check to make sure I hadn’t managed to accidentally leave myself overexposed. Much to my relief, after a quick inspection, I found that everything was properly secured. Birt had recovered somewhat in the meanwhile and began stammering his explanation.

  “Sorry, um, I hadn’t quite expected that,” he stumbled. “I mean, um, well… I don’t know what I mean. Please, have a look for yourself.”

  He said the last while motioning towards a full-length mirror propped up in the corner of the wagon. Stepping in front of the glass, I was shocked by what I saw.

  Although I held the memories of a dead man who had lived on his world for many decades, I myself had only truly been alive a scant few weeks, and in that short time, I had only seen my own image on a bare handful of occasions. Of course, I knew what I looked like—I knew without any sense of arrogance that my appearance, especially with my unusual dark hair and stark green eyes, was somewhat striking. But even I was unprepared for the image that was reflected in the glass before me.

  The gown Birt had chosen for me was a bright emerald green that provided the perfect shade of contrast for my eyes. My dark hair fell across the open neckline of the dress, highlighting the smooth, bare skin of my shoulders. The bodice clung tightly across my chest, revealing just t
he slightest hint of cleavage before flaring slightly at the waist and ending in elegant folds of patterned silk. The overall effect was simply… stunning.

  “It fits you perfectly…” Birt said, his voice simply trailing off at the end.

  And it did at that, thanks to my status as a Deathless.

  “I don’t know if I can accept this, Birt,” I finally said. “It’s worth far more than I even want to consider.”

  “Dreya,” Birt said with a solemn voice. “You and your friends saved our lives last night. The least I can do is reward you with a few bits of fabric. But even more, now that I’ve seen you in that dress and how perfectly it suits you, I could never consider putting it on anyone else. It would simply be unfair to them.”

  I couldn’t help but blush a little at his compliment and thanked him for his generosity before ducking back behind the curtain and changing into my clothes again. Once I was dressed, I stepped back into the wagon and began replacing my armor and weapons. By the time I was finished, Birt had folded the dress up neatly, including the matching pair of gloves I had left behind in the dressing room, and tied it up in a tight bundle, wrapped in a protective layer of fabric.

  “Thank you, Birt,” I said as I climbed out of the wagon. “I can honestly say that this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given to me.”

  “You are most welcome, Dreya,” he replied with a warm smile.

  I stepped aside as Birt motioned for Stel to join him inside the wagon, allowing him to bestow his final gift upon our group.

  As Stel disappeared inside the wagon, I walked alongside Venna, matching her pace.

  “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful,” I whispered softly to her, so as to not be overheard by either Birt or Wenda. “But did he give you a ballgown as well?”

  “Yes, he did,” she replied, matching my hushed whisper. “He gave us each a formal outfit, suitable for any high-society ball or royal court we may find ourselves invited to.”

  She’d said the last with a tinge of irony, knowing full well that no such events would be on our schedule for the foreseeable future. Her tone surprised me, considering her usual serious demeanor, and I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Stel or maybe even Khorim was finally rubbing off a little bit on the normally reserved elf.

  We walked side by side for a while, talking amiably until Stel finally emerged from behind the wagon. Catching sight of us, he quickly jogged over and joined us traveling alongside Birt’s wagon.

  “So,” I whispered, “was it pantaloons or a nice pair of hose?”

  Stel stifled a laugh, and I even caught Venna vainly trying to suppress a smile.

  “I don’t mean to be unappreciative,” I said feeling a bit guilty. “The outfit he gave me is absolutely exquisite. I just don’t know when I would ever have the opportunity to wear such an extravagant gown.”

  “No, I understand,” Venna offered. “The dress Birt gave me is far more formal than anything I would ever wear, even to one of my Order’s highest ceremonies.”

  “Well, considering what a bunch of stiffs they are,” Stel prodded, “that’s not saying very much.”

  Venna’s punch struck him in the same shoulder I had hit him in earlier, only her strike lacked the restraint I had afforded him before.

  “Ow!” He exclaimed. “You do recall that you’re wearing a mailed glove, my dear?”

  “Oh heavens,” Venna retorted in mock surprise, “I seemed to have forgotten for a moment. Do accept my apologies.”

  Her reply was so out of character that both Stel and I stopped dead in our tracks. Venna simply laughed at our consternation and continued on her way, leaving us to stare at each other in disbelief.

  “That’s still your wife, right?” I finally asked Stel.

  “I think so,” he replied.

  We both shook our heads before jogging back up alongside Venna.

  “I don’t know who you are or what you did with the real Venna,” I said as we resumed walking beside her. “But I just have one question.”

  She did not reply but looked at me with an expression that simply said, ‘you can ask, but you may not like the answer.’

  “Can we keep you?”

  Stel choked trying to hold back his laughter, failing miserably in the bargain. Venna flashed a wink and a smile at me behind his back before turning towards him with a death-glare plastered on her face.

  “You find that amusing, my dear?”

  “Of course not,” Stel sputtered. “Just something in my throat is all.”

  “Oh, perhaps you’ve caught some illness,” she said, twisting the knife. “Maybe you should sleep under the stars tonight. The fresh air might serve to clear things up for you.”

  Stel stared at her wide-eyed as Venna’s new-found attitude took him by surprise as much as it had me.

  “Come, Dreya,” she said, taking my hand, “lets walk ahead a bit and leave my suddenly ill husband some room to recuperate.”

  Venna marched ahead, dragging me alongside in tow, only slowing down when we had gotten a fair pace ahead of her bewildered husband. We walked together like that for a while, her hand still clasping mine before I could bring myself to speak.

  “What has gotten into you, Venna?” I finally asked.

  She let out a happy laugh before answering.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” she said. Her tone was sincere, yet still mixed with the sudden mirth that had overtaken her.

  “I just feel... right all of a sudden. Like something has changed and I’ve finally been placed on the path I’ve always been meant to follow. I can’t explain it any better than that, but it’s filled me with a sense of joy and purpose that I’ve never known before.”

  She turned to face me as she finished and, on a sudden impulse, kissed me on the lips. Her quick kiss did not linger, nor was it intended as anything romantic—merely a playful, friendly gesture, likely brought on by the sudden change of mood that had come over her. But regardless of her innocent intent, the effect was quite profound.

  As our lips brushed together, Venna stumbled, overcome by the intensity of the sensations that instantly flowed through her body. Had I not already been holding her hand, she might have fallen to the ground. I barely managed to keep her upright and placed my arm around her shoulder, steadying her suddenly unstable gait. I knew precisely the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through her body at that moment and took great care to avoid any additional contact, lest I fuel them any further.

  While I also felt the heat of her kiss deeply, I had the benefit of at least some experience in dealing with the powerful urges it brought on. Forcefully shoving my ardent impulses aside, l concentrated instead on keeping my friend calm, holding her steady as she recovered from the consequences of her brief contact with me.

  “What was that?” She asked after a few moments had passed. Her words came out almost breathlessly, as the effects obviously still lingered over her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, attempting to apologize. “I would have explained sooner, but I didn’t expect you to do anything like that.”

  “I don’t understand,” Venna replied, still bewildered.

  “I think it’s part of being Deathless, at least for me it is,” I began. “Ever since I came here, I have been extremely sensitive to the sensations of this world. The sights, the sounds… everything; especially to touch. At first, I was completely overwhelmed by simple things like colors and sounds. Fortunately, I’ve been able to adapt over time and now that no longer happens, except with touch. Physical contact is still very intense for me, and as you’ve just discovered, for whomever touches me as well. That is why I always keep my gloves on.”

  “I’m so sorry that I did that to you, Venna,” I pled. “Please forgive me.”

  I was deeply concerned that she would be furious with me. I knew all too well the raging flood of desire that I had just sent coursing through her body unbidden. Even when I knew to expect them, their intensity was usually overwhelming for me. I could
only image how outraged she might be at having such powerful impulses imposed on her without warning, so I braced myself for the rebuke that I knew was coming.

  “Sintári,” she said, barely whispering the unfamiliar word.

  I looked at her questioningly, wondering if she had spoken some elven curse.

  “You are one of the Sintári,” she repeated more firmly.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means,” I replied.

  “It is a word from my people’s ancient language. It means ‘true feeling,’” she explained, as she slowly emerged from the fog of emotions I had inflicted on her.

  “Just as with the dwarven people, we lost most of our language and history during the Forgotten Times after the Gods left the world,” she went on, her voice growing even stronger.

  “But a few words and legends survived, and one of them was of the Sintári. They were people just like us, but to whom the world would reveal its true nature. Sintári were able to see beyond the surface of things, to know the very soul of a person or object. It is said that through this power a single Sintári could change the course of events for an entire nation.”

  Ding!

  Oh, fuck no.

  “No,” I replied numbly.

  “You speak the word, but your voice tells me you already know the truth.” Venna responded to the thought I had spoken aloud.

  “I just stopped being hunted,” I answered her, frustration creeping into my tone. “Something like this will only make me a target once more—an even bigger one.”

  “You are right,” Venna said. “Many will seek you out, trying to influence you to their cause. Many others would simply seek to end you—to eliminate the threat you represent to them before you reach your full power,”

  “You’re making me very uncomfortable right now.”

  “I’m sorry, that was not my intention,” Venna replied.

  “Well, I guess we’re even then,” I joked weakly.

  Venna smiled at my half-hearted attempt at humor.

  “We will have much to do if we are to help you reach your full potential as a Sintári,” Venna continued. “I will try to learn what I can from the archives of my Order, discreetly of course.”