Second Skin Omnibus

by M Damon Baker

  “The battle went well, but we did not escape without losses,” she told me bluntly.

  “How many?” I asked her in return.

  “Over a dozen wounded, and nearly half that number dead,” she replied.

  “Stay with her,” I placed Bane on Tási’s shoulder before turning back to Broda.

  “Take me to them,” I said, rising to my feet and withdrawing one of the resurrection scrolls.

  “Remember what happened last time you used one of those?” Broda reminded me. “We can’t afford to lose you right now.”

  “And I can’t afford to lose anyone I don’t have to,” I scolded her harshly. “Now take me to them.”

  The dead had been laid out respectfully at the foot of the wall. Five still bodies carefully arranged on the cold stone. Some looked almost peaceful. I recognized one of them as a woman I had spoken with as she shot her crossbow during practice. A lucky arrow, one of the few the orcs had managed to fire, had pierced her heart. The others all seemed to have fallen defending the gateway as their bodies bore much more devastating wounds. One had been decapitated, while another had been hacked at so badly that his body was barely held together anymore.

  “I don’t know if I can do this more than once,” I said turning to Broda. “You know them better than I do, who should I try to bring back first?”

  “Out of the three, I would say Clorid first, then Madren,” she replied, indicating the crossbow wielder and one of the soldiers.

  “What do you mean out of the three of them? I see five bodies here.”

  “Yes, five dead, but only three you can possibly bring back,” Broda explained. “The others have been ruined beyond any hope of restoration.”

  My confused expression prompted her to explain a little further.

  “Decapitation or loss of any vital organs eliminates the chance of restoring life, Dreya. So too does excessive damage to the body. There’s just too much damage for the magic to overcome.”

  I reluctantly nodded in understanding and unrolled the scroll as I approached Clorid’s body. Fortunately, the arrow that had taken her life had already been removed, sparing me the task of pulling the shaft from her chest. As I knelt down beside the fallen woman, a hush fell over the crowd that had gathered to pay their respects.

  The words flowed through my mind as I read the parchment, and the powerful magic coursed through my veins just as before, but this time I was at least prepared for the onslaught of power that came with it. I knew that trying to fight against its overwhelming force would be pointless, so I attempted to guide it instead, funneling its energy through me rather than letting my body absorb all its power. The experience was still incredible, with flashes of light and entire galaxies full of life seeming to thread their way through my nerves, and despite my attempt to blunt its impact, when the energy finally dissipated, I was left reeling.

  Broda was by my side in an instant, cradling my limp body in her arms.

  “Did it work?” I gasped.

  “Yes, now be still,” she replied. “You’ve done your part, now it’s time for you to rest.”

  “No,” I pushed her away weakly. “I can do one more.”

  “Dreya,” Broda whispered to me softly. “You’re going to hurt yourself badly.”

  “Worse than him?” I asked her pointedly as I pulled myself next to Madren’s body.

  “I can’t stop you, but please don’t do this,” Broda pleaded with me.

  “I have to at least try, Broda,” I replied with tears in my eyes.

  “I know you do, but it hurts me to see you torture yourself like this.”

  I fumbled with the next scroll, unable to maintain my balance even while sitting on the cold stone. I looked to Broda and begged her to help me.

  “Hold me up, Broda,” I pled with her. “I need your strength.”

  Reluctantly, Broda sat down next to me and supported my body while I focused on unraveling the next scroll. When I finally did, the magic flowed through me again in a raging torrent that I had no hope of controlling. Infinite worlds passed by in my mind, filling me with power beyond comprehension for only an instant before the blackness claimed me.

  7

  I woke up and opened my eyes to see the roof of my own tent. As my vision adjusted to the dim light and I became aware of my surroundings, I felt Tási lying next to me and heard the sound of Bane’s soft purr. Somewhere off in the distance, the echoes of music rang through the walls of the canyon.

  “What happened?” I asked Tási as I tried to rise from beneath the covers.

  “You lay back down right now!” Tási rebuked me. “Maybe you don’t think you have to listen to Broda when she tells you not to do something stupid, but I’m not going to let you get away with that!”

  The fierceness of her anger took me by surprise, and I reflexively laid back down as she yelled at me, but my compliance did little to soften her mood and she continued berating me.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Tási practically screamed in my face. “You literally mean everything to everyone. An entire continent needs you, and you insist on doing incredibly stupid things that put your life at risk!”

  I had never heard her utter a single profanity before and the sheer force of the anger she spewed put me completely off balance.

  “Tási, I can’t die,” I tried to defend myself.

  “Really? Do you know that for sure?” She asked me, not as a series of questions but more in the form of an accusation. “With the Barrier in place, we have no idea what might happen if you die. Shit, you’re not even really a Deathless anymore, are you? You’re a fucking Sintári now. Do you have any clue what that means?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Exactly! You not fucking sure! Yet you keep acting like Miss Fucking Immortal and taking all sorts of spectacularly idiotic chances with your life.”

  “I’m sorry that I scared you Tási, but I had to try—”

  “No! You! Didn’t!” Tási yelled back at me. “You didn’t have to do anything. You wanted to. You chose to. You can lie to everyone else—lie to yourself if you want to. But don’t you fucking lie to me!”

  “Maybe,” I replied to her honestly as her words started to sink in. “I can’t really say what it is that drives me to do the things that I do sometimes.”

  “Will you please promise that you will stop taking so may unnecessary risks?” Tási implored as her tone finally softened.

  “I admit that sometimes I act rashly,” I began before Tási snorted at me derisively.

  “Frequently?” I offered.

  Tási nodded in agreement, and I felt free to continue again.

  “You have to understand that there is something guiding me at times, pushing me to do things that may seem unwise,” I explained. “And despite how it might look to you, I don’t consider following the course it plots for me to be foolish. Whatever it is that is guiding me has led me all the way here. It has kept me safe and never led me astray, and I will continue to follow wherever it leads me, no matter what.”

  “But it is also true that I have made some unwise decisions myself as well,” I quickly added before Tási could unload on me again. “I will do my best to rein those in from now on.”

  Tási’s anger crumbled with my concession, and as she crushed me in a tight embrace, I felt her tears falling on my skin as she cried against my shoulder.

  “I was so scared,” she sobbed. “They told me that when it happened before you just stared off vacantly for a while.”

  “What happened to me this time?” I asked, suddenly disturbed by the implications of what she’d said.

  “You were barely alive, Dreya,” Tási whispered through her tears. “I had trouble even finding your pulse. Nothing we tried helped—all we could do was wait and hope that you would come back to us.”

  I sat in silence, taking in just how close I had been to dying, and just what that might have meant for so many people.

  “I understand what motivated yo
u to try, Dreya,” Tási offered. “I’m a healer too. I know how powerful the call to help can be. But to be a healer also comes with the responsibility to care for yourself as well. The dead cure no wounds.”

  Her statement had a profound effect on me. Not just the words, but how she had said them; almost with a sense of reverence. I had done a great many things since coming to this world, helped and offered comfort to so many people. But if I had not survived my early days here, none of that may have been possible. How many other lives might have been lost if I had foolishly thrown away my own? I had been placed in a position of great responsibility. It may not have been by my own choosing, but I was here, nonetheless. I needed to consider the risks I took more carefully, to weigh not only the immediate benefits of my success, but also the potential long-term consequences should I fail as well.

  “Thank you, Tási. I never considered it from that perspective.”

  We held each other for a while as each of us recovered from the emotional toll of our heated conversation. During our embrace, I glanced over Tási’s shoulder at Bane who had remained silent the entire time.

  ‘Thanks for the support, Bane,’ I sent him laced with notes of my displeasure.

  I’m on her side in this, Sintári. Even if I wasn’t, after what I just heard, I wouldn’t try and stop her. She’s scary when she’s angry.

  ‘You’re telling me?’

  No. I suppose I don’t have to. Bane sent as he smiled back at me.

  “Come,” Tási said as she let go of me. “If you’re well enough to argue with me, you’re certainly well enough to join the celebration.”

  We left the tent, and I could see a pair of giant bonfires blazing on the ground near the fortifications. Music was being played and the sound of raucous laughter echoed through the ravine. As Tási led me closer, the figures of the dwarves dancing and rejoicing in celebration became clear. A few sentries stood atop the wall, keeping watch in case the orcs returned, but otherwise, it seemed that the entire population had joined in on the revelry.

  “Before you get the wrong idea,” Tási explained as we drew closer. “Broda and I carried you off when you collapsed. Khorim told everyone you had just fainted from the effort. We did not want them to know just how serious your condition was. After all that has happened, they needed this celebration. Knowing that you were on death’s door would have ruined it for them.”

  “I understand Tási, but we will have to tell them,” I answered her. “There will be other battles. More losses. They will need to know why I cannot do what I did today again—why I can only bring back one of them next time.”

  “We will let them know,” Tási replied empathetically, sensing my regret at the limitation I had accepted. “Tomorrow. Broda, Khorim, and I will take care of it for you. We will make sure everyone understands. But for tonight, we’re going to banish all those unpleasant thoughts and celebrate the victory we won today.”

  Tási and I joined the crowd and were greeted with a thunderous round of cheers. Mugs were thrust in our hands, and toasts were offered both in honor of our victory and in celebration of the orcs’ rout. The orcs were the long-standing enemies of the dwarven people, and their crushing defeat was viewed as cause for great celebration.

  I joined in the festivities wholeheartedly, but tried to limit my consumption of the strong dwarven ale to a minimum. Not only had I just recovered from a very taxing ordeal, but even though I kept my darker thoughts at bay, I knew there would be a great deal of planning and work ahead of me in the morning.

  The rest of the people did not share in my restraint—the ale flowed heavily, and the festivities went on through the night. It was late in evening when a pair of dwarves hesitantly approached me. I recognized the two of them instantly and greeted them warmly.

  “Clorid! Madren! I’m so glad to see you. How are you feeling?”

  “We are fine, Lady Dreya,” Clorid spoke hesitantly on their behalf. “Madren and I... well we just wanted to thank you for what you did for us.”

  “You are both very welcome, but no thanks are necessary,” I smiled as I replied to them. “You have come here to help me build this place into something special. I consider it my duty to do whatever I can for you in return.”

  “But we have no way to repay you, Lady Dreya,” Madren lamented. “The scroll you used is worth more coin than I may earn in many years.”

  “I don’t expect you to pay for that, Madren,” I replied incredulously. “You gave your lives defending the rest of us. I consider the price of that scrap of paper a small matter in comparison to the sacrifice you made.”

  The two of them stared open-mouthed at me for a long moment, obviously shocked by what I had said. I was a bit taken aback by their consternation until Tási leaned over to whisper in my ear.

  “Resurrection scrolls are not inexpensive, as you already know,” she said softly. “Anyone who receives their benefit is expected to reimburse the cost or pledge their servitude for as long as it takes to work off the value. Your generosity is nearly unheard of.”

  “Clorid, Madren,” I addressed them now that I understood their dilemma. “You came here because you were told this would be a new place, with different rules. This is one of them. The lives of the people here are not only valuable to me, they are irreplaceable. Each and every one of you is a priceless treasure. Lives will be lost here, and I will not be able to bring them all back. But I will restore as many as I can, and I will count those lives regained as a boon, not a debt to be collected. The coin I may spend on scrolls counts as nothing compared to the value of your lives to me.”

  Clorid’s eyes filled with tears and Madren sunk to his knees before me. I even saw Tási wipe at her face as I finished speaking.

  “Lady Dreya,” Madren’s voice caught as he spoke to me. “Such benevolence is unknown in any Realm. I do not know what to say, how to respond to your kindness.”

  “All I ask in return is that you do your part to help me shape this place into something special,” I replied to him. “I cannot fulfill all of the promises I’ve made alone. I need people like you to believe in something better. To strive for more and treat each other with dignity. To value each other more than a pile of coins.”

  “I will do my best for you, Lady Dreya,” Madren swore solemnly as he rose from the ground. Then with a quick bow of his head, Madren strode off, obviously still shaken by what had transpired.

  In contrast, Clorid still stood where she was. While her tears had stopped flowing, she seems unable to figure out how to respond.

  “Are you alright, Clorid?” I finally asked when she remained unresponsive.

  “Yes, Lady Dreya,” she said, emerging from her fog. “I guess I was just a bit overwhelmed. Forgive me for saying this, but you’re a human. A human who has placed more value on the lives of dwarves than even my own people would have. If that represents what you are trying to do here, then to say that you are trying to create something different is an incredible understatement.”

  “I began my journey here in Lorida,” I recounted to her. “During my travels, I have met humans and elves, dwarves, halflings, and even half-orcs. And I value all of their lives equally, regardless of their heritage. They have their differences, but in every way that really matters, they are all the same. They are just people to me Clorid, and every one of their lives is precious.”

  “There is much merit in your words, Lady Dreya,” Clorid replied thoughtfully. “But they also herald great change, and such a drastic revolution will not be easy for many—myself included. Our ways are ingrained in us, and it will not be a simple thing to discard our animosities. I will try my hardest to live up to your example, though I confess it will be difficult.”

  “Thank you, Clorid,” I responded to her. “I can ask for nothing more than that.”

  She walked away slowly, clearly still pondering the heady conversation. As Clorid vanished into the crowd, Tási spoke to me again.

  “Word of what you said just now will spread fas
t,” she said thoughtfully. “Your generosity will be well-received; however, I do not know how the rest of it will go over.”

  “Better they know what I expect of them sooner rather than later,” I replied to her bluntly. “Any who don’t like it can leave for all I care.”

  Instead of continuing the conversation, Tási simply took another sip from her mug and let the matter pass.

  The celebration continued for hours, and the sentries rotated on and off the wall, allowing everyone the opportunity to join in the festivities. Eventually things began to wind down, and we took the opportunity to wander back to our tent. I stepped inside and got ready for bed quickly, looking forward to getting a decent night’s rest. As I began pulling together my blankets, I noticed that Bane had not come inside with us and that Tási and I were alone. Tási smiled at me mischievously as she stripped off her undergarments and slid under the covers beside me.

  “You said we needed to hold off on anything like this until Venna got back!” I protested as she pulled me down beside her.

  Tási’s hand slid across my thigh, hiking up the thin fabric of my night dress as her fingers slowly glided even further up my body.

  “If I have to accept the fact that you can act rashly sometimes,” she said with a sly smile. “Then you’re going to have to expect the same from me in return.”

  I closed my eyes and relinquished a portion of my control, allowing the pleasure of her touch radiate through me. It had been too long since we had enjoyed each other, and I yielded to the combination of her seductive touch and my own eager desires.

  I woke the next morning with Tási’s head still resting on my chest. Her arm draped across my body and her bare flesh pressed against me, reminding me of the incredible passion we had shared the night before.

  Tási’s affection had been an almost desperate thing—every kiss and caress was tinged with such intense desire that I was forced to fend off her emotions, wielding my control almost defensively. But her fierce hunger had not been the only issue.