Second Skin: Unified: A litRPG Adventure (Second Skin Book 3)

by M Damon Baker

  Within that word was a caution. A warning not to press too hard or channel too much, or else the process might overwhelm me, just as trying to perform two resurrection had done before. I was somewhat disturbed that the voice was able to evoke the memory of that event in me so easily, but took the advice to heart, and channeled Shockwave into my next shot instead.

  I hoped that the power of the energy released would topple the ogre, or at least make it drop its heavy burden, but the effect on the beast was underwhelming. It simply shook off the impact before marching on again, almost completely unfazed by the energy I had unleashed on it. I had only one other hope and channeled a Blind arrow at my next target.

  As I scanned the battlefield, I saw that all five remaining gangways were once again in play. The ones that were dropped by the dead ogres had been picked up by others. But the deaths of the four ogres had broken the lines of their attack. Instead of coming towards us at the same pace, they were staggered, with two leading the way while three more followed further behind.

  I fired my Blind arrow at one of the two closest ogres and the giant screamed in outrage as his world turned black. The creature dropped the heavy gangway, crushing several of the orcs that were accompanying him in the process. The effect would not last long, but at least for the moment, he was out of the battle.

  Only one ogre remained close to us, but he was almost within striking distance once I had blinded the other one. I couldn’t risk him placing the span he carried across our moat and resorted to the only talent I had that was certain to end the threat he represented. Channeling my Strength once more, I loaded the Khelduin arrowhead almost to bursting before firing it into the ogre’s body.

  The ogre had been approaching Khorim’s section of the wall. The dwarf was still desperately trying to reset his ballista while his archers fruitlessly peppered the ogre with arrows in an attempt to stave it off. The ogre responded to their efforts by holding the span it carried in front of its body, and the wood of the gangway was so thickly studded with their arrows that it resembled a pincushion. The ogre’s attempt to defend himself left his entire flank exposed to me, and my arrow plunged deep into his flesh before the power of the Strength infused shaft exploded within him.

  The giant’s blood and viscera sprayed across the ground in a fountain of gore, covering everything around him in a thick coat of red blood and ragged hunks of flesh. The sight of the ogre’s body falling to the ground was the last thing I saw before the toll of my own exertions overcame me. Unlike when I had pushed myself before, the effect only amounted to a few short moments of lightheadedness that resolved quickly. Unfortunately, during those few precious moments, things had gone very, very badly for us.

  I heard the thrum of the ballista firing from within the haze of my mind. As I stood up again, I expected to see several more of the ogres lying dead with our massive bolts protruding from their bodies. While this was indeed the case, and three more of our giant foes had joined their brethren in death’s embrace, the others were almost upon us.

  While the ogre I had blinded was still bellowing and searching about in the darkness, the three remaining ogres each held one of the gangways in their hands and were rapidly advancing on us. I might have been able to get off one last Strength enhanced shot, but I was certain the effort would be the end of me for the rest of the fight. Even if I took one of the ogres out with that shot, that would still leave two of them, and I doubted our chances if even one of the gangways they carried made its way to the top of our walls. Two of them would mean certain doom for all of us. I was left with only one option. Although it was premature, I set our plan for the destruction of the orc horde in motion, praying that they would not see through our deception.

  “Raise the gate, don’t let them in!” I shouted loudly, making sure that my voice carried well beyond the wall to our foes outside.

  We had left the gate barely half-closed, feigning another mechanical failure. My order was the signal to begin a desperate attempt to raise the drawbridge.

  The heavy span creaked upwards in jerks and spasms. When it got almost to the top, the mechanism appeared to break, and the effect was enhanced by the loud cracking of wood and grinding of metal gears that echoed from the drawbridge’s controls. The dwarves had outdone themselves in that regard, rigging a bit of machinery to mimic the sound of shearing metal as they snapped a few boards to add to the effect.

  The drawbridge lurched and then came crashing to the ground, offering our opponents an apparently clear path through our defenses. Raucous war cries erupted from the horde as they surged across the span, each one hungering to be among the first to spill our blood.

  From the outside, the orcs were unable to see the portcullis at the far end of the long passageway, and the first wave of them were shoved against its bars forcefully by those that followed. I heard Tási yelling commands and the defenders that lined the outer walls of the passageway thrust their long spears into the tightly packed mass of green-skinned bodies that were beginning to clog the passageway.

  The orcs on the outside had no idea what was going on inside the tunnel and continued to press forward, anxious to join in on the slaughter that they were certain was commencing inside. Orcs soon filled the entire entrance and were stacked on the drawbridge, eagerly trying to work their way across. With as many orcs packed into the narrow confines as possible, Tási shouted a second series of commands.

  Dwarves stationed on top of the passageway kicked over a series of barrels that we’d positioned over the murder holes in the ceiling. Foul-smelling oil gushed from the overturned barrels and sloshed across the roof of the tunnel, prevented from flowing over its sides by the small retaining wall that the stonemasons had added to the structure. The volatile oil that was a byproduct of Hildreth’s forge poured down on the orcs trapped in the tunnel, showering them in the viscous liquid.

  Over the din, I heard Tási’s final command echo from below. Although her previous order warned everyone to stand clear, this last shout served as a final notice for anyone who might have still been near the coming apocalypse.

  For a split second, I saw the flare of her fire bolt arc towards the portcullis, then there was nothing but a blinding flash of light. In an instant, flames shot out from both ends of the long tunnel, stoked to intense heat and propelled with incredible force within the narrow confines. Every orc that had been in the passage or on the drawbridge was instantly incinerated beyond recognition by the searing burst of flames. Even beyond the arc of fire, the conflagration continued to wreak havoc on the orcs. Cries of utter pain and anguish echoed across the field as skin melted away and bodies blistered from the heat that was projected by the unrelenting assault of raw power.

  The few remaining orcs looked about in a daze, stunned by the bright flash of light and the rapid reversal of fortunes that had destroyed almost their entire army. A few quick-witted ones tried to escape, but that was when the true intent behind the tar barrier came into play.

  Tási’s orders had not only been directed at the defenders under her command, but they also triggered a second series of actions. With her first shouts, the archers on the top floors of both towers began firing flaming arrows into the broad band of tar that was spread across the ground behind the attacking army. While the orcs were singularly focused on charging forward, the field behind them had been turned into a second conflagration. After the slaughter in the passageway, the tattered remnants of the orc host were trapped between our fortifications and the raging fire that now blocked their retreat.

  The three remaining ogres roared in outrage and tried to follow through on their original plan. Unfortunately for them, the distraction had given the crews time to rearm our ballistae, and four massive bolts ended their assault before they could even pick up their makeshift gangways again.

  The rest of the orcs fell rapidly under the relentless hail of arrows our archers rained down on them from the safety of the walls. A few attempted to make a desperate dash through the flames, but the
sticky tar ensured that any who tried were roasted alive before they could escape.

  We knew that the gateway would be unusable once we lit the oil inside it, so when there were only a few orcs remaining, Stel lowered a ladder of our own and we climbed down to the field below. Having endured the stunning defeat and under threat from our archers above, the handful of orcs surrendered meekly as we approached, casting aside their weapon and even stripping off their armor in a display of submission.

  “Who speaks for you?” I asked as we approached the pitiful group.

  “I will,” said the lone female orc among the small band of survivors.

  The woman stood in front of me, but maintained a respectful distance, a wise precaution under the circumstances. She was tall with a muscular build and proud bearing and I could tell that the passive stance she had assumed did not sit well with her. Still, she looked me in the eye as she spoke, unwilling to abandon that last shred of her dignity.

  I needed to know that what she told me next was true, so I discreetly cast See Truth on her before continuing the conversation.

  “Your tribe has attacked us three times now,” I told her pointedly. “Although we have defeated your unprovoked assaults, you continue to return. What will your people do after this defeat? Will there be another attack?”

  “No,” she replied reluctantly. “There will be no further attacks from the Black Hand. You have destroyed us. When you killed the Chieftain’s only son, he flew into a rage. He brought all our warriors here today, leaving only those too old, too sick, or too young to fight behind. Those who remain will either be killed or taken captive by our enemies. The Black Hand is no more.”

  The words that floated from her mouth came out in a torrent of blue tinged letters. Everything she said had been the absolute truth. With the threat of continued attacks removed, I didn’t much care about the answer to my next question, but curiosity got the better of me and I asked it anyway.

  “What will you do now?”

  “I do not know,” the orc responded flatly. “Both our Chieftain and Shaman lay dead on this killing field. We have no leaders and will be hunted by the other orc tribes for what we have done to them in the past. If you do not kill us, I will try to return home, to gather those we left behind and find a safe place for them. Although with both our kind and yours trying to slaughter us, I do not have much hope that we will succeed, but I have to at least try.”

  Her goals seemed much like my own, and despite all that had happened, I found myself feeling sympathy for her plight. The words she spoke were still tinted in blue, and I trusted her intentions.

  “You will not die this day, not by our hands,” I told her. “The leaders that forced us into this conflict are dead. If you do not pursue it, we will not attack you either. You may go, but do not return here seeking revenge.”

  “You will not see us again,” the orc female replied in obvious relief.

  When she spoke, she stood up straighter and then took a more authoritative stance as she began ordering her few companions to leave. They had just begun to walk away when I called her back.

  “You will be crossing dangerous lands,” I reminded her when she returned hesitantly. “Things will not go well for you if you leave your armor and weapons behind.”

  She stared at me in stunned silence and it seemed to take a moment for my words to penetrate her mind. Allowing a defeated enemy to retreat was something complete foreign to her. Letting them keep their arms while doing so must have seemed like pure insanity.

  “You have shown far more restraint than you would have received if our positions were reversed,” the orc finally managed to say.

  “I know,” I replied to her. “But I’m trying to change this world. My way means showing mercy to the helpless, not slaughtering them needlessly. Believe this; if you come against me again, I will end you. But right now, you are no threat to us. I’m willing to take a chance on you. Do not make me regret that decision.”

  The orc simply nodded as she picked up her gear. The rest of the defeated group followed suit and hurried away quickly, unwilling to linger long enough for us to possibly change our minds.

  “I hope that doesn’t come back to haunt us,” Broda bemoaned. “They may not come back, but when word of this spreads to other tribes, we may be facing an entirely new threat.”

  “The word they will spread is one of complete defeat, Broda,” I answered her. “If anything, I think the tale will discourage further attacks.”

  “Perhaps,” Stel offered. “Either way, it was a gamble. Even if we killed them, one tribe or another would eventually capture those they left behind. The vague tale of their entire army heading off to battle and then disappearing might have enticed an ambitious Chieftain to seek out what had happened to them.”

  “There was no right answer,” Venna added. “Kill them or set them free, one way or another, it didn’t matter—the risk was the same. In the end, what you chose to do only matters to yourself, Dreya. Your decision is a measure of you, not the risk involved.”

  I scanned the battlefield as I contemplated Venna’s words. The ground was littered with bodies of dead orcs and the giant corpses of the ogres. The stones of the gateway still smoldered with intense heat and the smoke from the charred bodies inside wafted up into the sky. We had won a resounding victory, but recovering from the aftermath of the battle would be a daunting task.

  Our path back to normalcy would be much easier with Ridge’s help, so I took a moment to summon him while my companions continued to survey the battlefield.

  “How can I serve you, Mistress?” Ridge intoned as he rose from the Earth.

  “We have won our battle against the orcs,” I told him. “But we incurred a great deal of damage in the process. I need your help to speed up the repairs. We will be vulnerable until we can get another gate built.”

  “I will begin immediately, Mistress,” Ridge said before setting off towards the fortifications. He hadn’t bothered to ask what my priorities were, but I trusted his judgement and let him do as he saw fit. Besides, I could always redirect him later if I needed his efforts focused somewhere specific.

  Once we walked back to the fortifications, we were able to get a close-up look at the damage that had been done by the intense heat of the fire. The stones of the passageway were scorched black and the timbers of the drawbridge had completely burnt away. All that remained of the gate were some twisted pieces of metal strewn about where the span had once been. Our victory was well-worth the loss of the barrier, but until it was replaced, the dry moat with its stone spikes would have to suffice as our first line of defense.

  On the other side, the portcullis hadn’t fared much better. The metal had twisted and buckled under the intense heat. Although it remained in place, the metal had warped so badly that it could no longer be raised. We decided to leave the portcullis locked in place for security until Dellon and Hilgreth could craft a new drawbridge.

  But the damage to the wood and stone defenses were not the worst losses we had suffered. Twenty-three of our people had fallen during the course of the battle, and over double that number had been injured to some degree as well. While the orcs had never gained the top of our walls, they’d still managed to launch a surprising number of missiles our way. Bolts, arrows, and even sling stones had rained down upon our defenders while our efforts had been focused on repelling the ogres. The cost of ignoring the enemy archers had been high, but our losses would have likely been complete if we’d allowed even a single gangway to breach our defenses.

  Venna and Tási immediately began to tend to the injured when we returned to the canyon. While they saw to the living, I had Broda and Stel escort me to the makeshift morgue that had been erected for our dead.

  “I do not know these people as well as I should,” I said regretfully. “You will have to tell me which of them to bring back.”

  Stel and Broda glanced at each other briefly before they each looked over the corpses arrayed about the tent. After
a few moments, they came together and discussed the merits of the decision that each of them had made. In the end, they seemed to come to an agreement, and they made their decision known to me.

  “We recommend that you resurrect Faine,” Stel offered, indicating a young female elf. “She alone among the dead has family here with us, a sister.”

  “What about those shrouded bodies,” I said, indicating several covered corpses the two of them hadn’t even bothered to review.

  “They fell along my section of the wall, Dreya,” Broda informed me with regret. “The orcs’ Shaman got close enough to cast some corruption spell on them. The archers were able to kill him for it, but the magic claimed their lives. The damage the dark energy did to them renders their bodies beyond your power to restore, unfortunately.”

  I nodded in understanding. There were limits to the power of resurrection magic here. Too much damage or the presence of corruption meant the spell could not restore life to the fallen body. Accepting their verdict, I sat down beside the fallen elf’s corpse and withdrew one of my few remaining resurrection scrolls.

  The shaft that had pierced her heart had already been removed, so I was spared the gruesome duty of freeing the bolt from her chest. So, as I unrolled the scroll, I immediately began scanning the inscription, invoking the magic contained in it.

  The power started coursing over me almost instantly. The now-familiar feeling of unlimited energy flowing through my body took over, overwhelming my senses completely during the scant second it took for the magic to perform its miracle. The energy abated abruptly, and I nearly fell over when it released me from its grip. I rose hesitantly to my feet, almost stumbling as I turned to face Broda.

  “Who’s next?” I asked her, in a tone barely above a whisper.

  “No one,” an unfamiliar voice replied.

  I looked in the direction of the voice that had spoken, and was shocked to see Madren standing there, the young dwarf I had resurrected after the last battle, incurring Tási’s wrath in the process. The effort had come close to killing me then, and he seemed determined to stop me from repeating the actions that had spared his own life.