Second Skin Omnibus

by M Damon Baker

  “I… thought you’d been told,” she hesitated, obviously reluctant to stir my wrath again.

  “No, I wasn’t,” I replied, and then quickly added, “My anger was not directed at you, Venna. I just didn’t realize that we’d lost so many, or that any of the Deathless had been involved in the fighting.”

  She nodded her understanding before proceeding cautiously, despite my clarification.

  “It was the elven couple, Laerik and Jaide,” Venna explained. “They ambushed a unit of several hundred by themselves and slew most of them before they were killed.”

  Those fucking bastards! And the fact that they’d escaped on top of it galled me. Sure, they had to die to do so—at least temporarily—but they’d still managed to evade the final justice I had intended for them.

  “One of our cavalry units captured Logan,” I consoled myself by informing Venna of his imprisonment. “He was badly wounded, and they’re taking him to the fortress for safekeeping.”

  “I know he can’t tell you anything about his Mistress,” Venna tried to encourage me. “But perhaps he knows where the Deathless will… spawn? Is that the right word?”

  Oh, shit! She was right! If I had known about the other Deathless, I would have tried to Compel the answer from Logan when I had him right in front of me. If I hurried, maybe there might be enough time for me to question him and get to their respawn point in time. But I owed it to the fallen to tend to them first.

  “Ella,” I turned to address her—she still hadn’t left my side since I’d ridden away from her before. “Do whatever it takes to get me to Logan as fast as possible; I’m heading for the fortress the minute I’m finished here.”

  Ella cast a knowing glance at Saibra before leaving to see to my orders. Venna’s brow shot up as she recognized the gesture, and I caught Saibra as she attempted to surreptitiously wave off her inquiry.

  “She can tell you later, Venna,” I told her as I withdrew Death’s Embrace from one of The Forest Cloak’s many pockets. “For now, show me who I should attend to.”

  Venna led me to the bodies of the soldiers that had been chosen for me to resurrect. While every single one of the fallen would be given the chance to come back, either via the Spells of the Curates who had the magic or through one of the thousands of resurrection scrolls we’d amassed, it was still only a chance at rebirth. These three, on the other hand, were guaranteed revival through the powerful magic of my God-forged Artifact.

  “Why these three?” I had to ask.

  “Lieutenant Wynn fell to an arrow during your cavalry’s first charge,” she explained each one in turn. “He was… is both extremely competent and quite well-liked by his troops. Corporal Bissa has a pair of twins back home. There are others who left children behind, but her husband was lost during the fighting in Laska...”

  Venna paused for a moment as the implications of that loss sunk in.

  “And Mellorrí willingly gave her life to slay Laerik,” she finished. “We thought she should be rewarded for her selflessness.”

  I was sure there were countless other tales of both tragedy and heroism beneath the shrouds that surrounded me, but if I’d heard them all, I’d never be able to make up my mind. Instead, I chose to rely on those I trusted to sort these things out for me, rather than tie myself up in knots trying to do so myself. So, with the blackness of Death’s Embrace in my hand, I began by raising Wynn, bringing the Lieutenant back to life with the rod’s first charge.

  His eyes had only been open for a few seconds when Tana swooped in to help him inside the hospital tent. For some, returning from death could be a traumatic experience, and waking up to find one’s self surrounded by the corpses of those who might not come back only added to the distress. By getting him away from the bodies of his fallen comrades as quickly as possible, Tana had done what she could to at least limit Wynn’s sense of guilt.

  As I moved to bring back Mellorrí next, I saw Rhia getting ready to bear her back inside as well, which she did the moment the elf’s eyes opened wide in surprise. I could hear Mellorrí’s startled voice calling out as Rhia carried the reborn soldier away but wasn’t able to make out her words. Then, as Aiva moved into position to do the same for Bissa, I waved her off.

  When the final charge of Death’s Embrace worked its magic on Bissa’s corpse, I carried her into the hospital tent myself, laying her down in an empty space in one of the corners.

  “You’ve done your duty, Corporal,” I told the dwarven soldier. “We’re heading over to the fortress next, and you’ll be going back home with the next caravan.”

  “I can’t do that,” she protested. “My troops need me.”

  “Your family needs you even more, Bissa. I’ve already cost your children their father; I won’t risk taking their mother from them twice.”

  “What do you mean, twice?” Bissa replied in confusion—not an uncommon occurrence among the newly restored.

  “You were dead, Bissa,” I explained. “I just brought you back.”

  She blinked several times in rapid succession in an effort to clear her mind, and apparently it worked—when she looked at me afterwards, there was a clarity in her eyes that had been lacking the moment before. As the shock of her death and subsequent resurrection wore off, Bissa took on a look of resolve. I thought she was preparing to defy me, but Bissa surprised me when she spoke again.

  “Stieg was an honorable dwarf. If I’ve given my life once, then I’ve at least matched his mark,” she replied stoically. “I can live with that.”

  Many months ago, when I was still new to this world, her stark sentiment might have shocked me. But I’d learned a great deal about this world—my world, in that time. Loss was just part of life here. The people had come to accept it as just another facet of their existence; a constant threat that loomed over them, a hazard that could take any of them without warning. But if I was successful, that would finally end, and Bissa and her children would be able to live their lives in peace. With a nod of acknowledgment, I left Bissa to finish recovering from her ordeal, and Ella returned just as I stepped outside the hospital tent.

  “I’ve got one of the cavalry troops rounding up a few spare mounts for us,” Ella informed me. “They should be here soon.”

  As we stood waiting for the horses to arrive, I was happy to see Líann finally make her appearance and rushed to greet her with a fierce hug, relieved to have her safe and at my side once more.

  “You’re staying with me next time,” I whispered to Líann as I held her.

  “I don’t want to be anywhere else,” she replied softly.

  Líann had argued with me before the battle, insisting that she do her part in the war, so I was surprised that she’d given in to me so easily afterwards. But the fear of losing each other simply made it impossible for us to not be together during the fighting that still remained, and all other considerations were pushed aside.

  Our reunion was brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of pounding hooves rapidly approaching. Dozens of cavalry soldiers, many leading riderless mounts, came to a halt directly in front of us, and we quickly jumped into the empty saddles before wheeling South towards our border fortress.

  Since the fortress was only a few miles away, the ride was a quick one, and we were soon dismounting in the open courtyard of our stronghold. The entire Army would be marching here shortly, and we planned to stay for a few days to both recover and plot our next move. The Dark Lands were a mystery to us, so we hoped to gain some valuable information from the prisoners we’d taken after the fighting was over. Yet at that moment I was only interested in one particular piece of information Logan might have for me, and I rushed to the cells beneath the central keep to find out if he knew what I wanted to find out.

  “Laerik and Jaide were killed in the battle,” I cast Compel on him as I spoke. “Where are their bind points?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied immediately.

  Damn! That was probably my only chance to catch them by surprise.r />
  “You travel and fight together, but you don’t know where they’ll respawn?” I asked him incredulously.

  “I know them well enough to not trust them with such information, just as they know me well enough to do the same in return,” despite the obvious pain from his still unhealed wounds, Logan responded without me having to force an answer from him.

  For Deathless who were true allies, knowing each other’s respawn points would be extremely helpful information to share—it could be very useful to have someone to aid and even protect you during your return from death. But these Deathless were not true allies; they were despicable vermin who were just as likely to victimize each other as anyone else. My entire rush here had been a waste of time; Logan had nothing for me, at least as far as Laerik and Jaide were concerned. Still, since I was there, I decided to begin questioning him on other matters.

  I stepped outside into the hallway and sent one of the guards to find a map for me while another was sent off in search of Emilda, who’d arrived with our supply caravan several days before. Once I was finished with Logan, it would be time for her to sever the links’ connection and put an end to him. When the guard returned with a map, I laid it out on the floor of Logan’s cell and began my questioning.

  Logan had a wealth of information about the Dark Lands, and through my repeated casting of Compel, I was able to mark up the map with the location of many outposts, settlements, and fortified positions. Although this information flowed out quite easily, anytime I inquired about the specifics of the forces we’d be facing, his eyes rolled back, and Logan went silent as the power of his collar intervened on behalf of his Mistress.

  I didn’t really care about his talents, but I was curious just how powerful Logan was. Inquiring about this revealed that he had reached level 53—fairly impressive, but still well below me. Preying upon weaker foes and pursuing only selfish goals obviously had its limits.

  “I know Aish, Thorgil, Laerik, and Jaide are still out there,” I cast Compel one final time. “Do you know of any other Deathless anywhere?”

  “No,” Logan’s one good eye glared balefully at me as I forced the answer from him.

  I found his answer both reassuring and depressing. Knowing that the Mistress of the Dark Lands very likely had no more than the four remaining Deathless that I already knew were arrayed against me was a good thing, but I was dismayed that every single Deathless I’d discovered had joined her.

  In the games like the one the dead man played, almost everyone envisioned themselves as the hero, although there were always those who enjoyed playing the villain as well. Considering the fact that those were all just games, I found nothing wrong with that. But this world had been revealed to all of us as a reality; its people were real, and the suffering that was inflicted on them was equally real. After knowing that, I couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to commit the disgusting acts Logan and the others had done.

  I’d asked Aimee that very question, and her answer revealed the true psychopath that she was. But could all of them truly be that insane? I simply had to know the answer, so I asked Logan one more question than I intended to.

  “You know these are real people, and not just animated projections,” I cast Compel again. “How could you do the things that you did to them?”

  I hadn’t bothered to make him list his crimes for me as I had with each of the other Deathless. Not only had I ceased wanting to hear the dreadful details, but Aimee had spent a great deal of time with Logan, and he had been mentioned frequently when she’d listed the litany of her transgression. I knew well enough what he’d done… I just couldn’t understand why.

  “I liked seeing them powerless and degraded,” his forced reply came out. “It made me feel strong. The more I did it, the more I wanted to do it. You may think of these people as real, but they’re only toys to me.”

  “Were you like this before, or did you only become this way here?”

  The question came out of me before I realized that I’d asked it, but even without Compel to force Logan’s reply, he answered me.

  “I was always this way,” he spoke without any sense of remorse. “But it was only after I became one of the Deathless that I had the ability to act on my impulses.”

  “Have you ever wondered what it felt like to be on the other side of those impulses?”

  Logan had been stripped of his armor and weapons, and only wore a tattered shirt and pair of pants. As I spoke, I placed my hand over his kneecap, and just as with Aimee, I sent a thick tendril of my shadows into the joint before yanking the thread back viciously and shattering his leg.

  Logan’s pained shriek echoed through the cell and down the hallway, and as his body jerked away from me, he was seized by a second bout of agony when his seared flesh tore open from the sudden movement. Beads of sweat broke out along the unburned side of his forehead as Logan writhed in pain, but I had only just begun to administer his punishment.

  “Tell me… do you feel powerless yet?” Torn cartilage and fragmented bone ground against each other when I bent his splintered knee sideways, and he screamed in anguish once again.

  In his already weakened state, Logan didn’t last very long; only an hour or so had passed when I dragged his broken body across the floor and removed the shackles from his wrists and ankles. Emilda had been waiting outside the cell, and when I called her in, she quickly glanced over Logan’s twisted form as it lay splayed out on the cold stone. Having already observed it for myself, I knew exactly what she was looking for, and I wrenched Logan’s forearm around so she could see the skull-shaped tattoo that was inked into his skin. Logan whimpered almost pitifully in pain as Emilda’s face resolved into a grim mask of determination, and she immediately began her incantation.

  The dark links pulsed menacingly when the connection with their Mistress was lost, and the collar sent thin wisps of darkness filtering into Logan’s bare skin as it crumbled to dust. Logan let out one last cry of pain as his already broken bones snapped yet again while his seared flesh melted, leaving only an ugly black mass of sludge pooled on the floor of the prison cell.

  “Will you help me with his gear?” I asked Emilda as she glared at the dark pile of steaming muck that was all that remained of Logan.

  “Of course,” she replied numbly as I obviously disturbed her recollection of Ineth’s death.

  Logan’s scorched pack lay against the wall of the cell next to his, and I peered inside, hoping to find something useful for one of my Tári. His non-magical equipment had already been taken away, and all that remained were Logan’s formerly soul bound items. Two of the three I was able to identify myself, so I picked up each in turn and tucked them into the pockets of my Cloak.

  Belt of Potency – This simple belt provides a bonus of five points to its wearer’s Strength Attribute. This item will become Soul Bound to its rightful owner.

  Gloves of Might – These gloves add five points to their wearer’s Strength Attribute. This item will become Soul Bound to its rightful owner.

  It seemed odd that Logan had two items that offered the same bonus, but as someone who was apparently consumed with the idea of being more powerful than others, I guess it made sense. Plus, five points of Strength wasn’t exactly a small matter; the boon could make all the difference in any number of circumstances. Once I’d dealt with those two items, I pulled out the third and final piece: a rather impressive-looking broadsword that still remained a mystery to me.

  Emilda looked over the heavy weapon as I held it for her, carefully examining it before tentatively gripping it by the hilt. I understood her hesitancy instantly—Logan had been at the scene of Ineth’s murder and had likely been wielding the weapon at the time. Considering the possibilities inherent in those two facts, it was no wonder that she was reluctant to touch the blade. Even so, Emilda finished her work after a moment, and I was able to see the properties of the weapon for myself.

  Surge – Imbued with the power of Air, this blade may discharge a bolt
of electrical energy into any foe it strikes. The chance of this occurring, as well as the power of the energy released, are dependent on the wielder’s proficiency. This item will become Soul Bound to its rightful owner.

  Very few people I knew used heavy broadswords. The one who came to mind first was Stel, but he already had the Sintári blade that the elf King had left for him. The only other person I could think of was Rhal, yet he seemed to prefer the orcish-style blades. Still, I thought offering the items I’d recovered from Logan to my guardians might make up for how inconsiderate I had been to them earlier.

  The cells were located below the first level of the fortress, and when Emilda and I emerged from below, a crowd of both the cavalry soldiers who’d escorted us and my own Imperial Guard was waiting for us. All of the officers had made the trip, so I didn’t have to go far to find each one that I was looking for.

  I presented Captain Aiva with the gloves I’d found—she was both quick and very skilled with her blades, and the added Strength would only make her all the more deadly. The belt went to Lieutenant Yarei, by far the most junior of my officers, but the one who would also most benefit from its bonus. Last, I offered the broadsword to Rhal, hoping he could use it.

  “I know you prefer a different style blade, Lieutenant,” I told him as I extended the heavy weapon towards him. “But I assure you, this is a definite upgrade.”

  “This is quite a powerful weapon, Empress,” Rhal admired the broadsword, casting his gaze up and down the blade as he spoke. “I am honored to accept it from you.”

  I was happy that he’d chosen to accept my gift, but as Rhal buckled the weapon in place, I sought out Karina, the only one of my officers yet to receive any such boon from me.

  “I promise you’re next,” I vowed to her. She’d been with the Imperial Guard right from the start, and I felt terrible that she’d yet to receive anything special from me.

  “I’ve already gotten my blade,” she smiled, reminding me that it was my old short sword that she wore over her shoulder.

  “You deserve more than that, and you’ll get it as soon as I have something to give to you.”