Second Skin Omnibus

by M Damon Baker

  Laska, on the other hand, cared nothing for trade—they existed on what their own lands had to offer or went without. No external measures I could apply would have any effect on them. The conquest of Laska would have to be accomplished mile by bloody mile. It was the only strategy we had available, but it favored the Laskans. Heavily.

  The harsh climate of their region gave them a distinct advantage. The Laskans knew this and used that fact to their own benefit. Any force that invaded their lands suffered under their fierce cold and brutal winters far more than the natives did. The Laskans had defeated many such invasions without landing a single blow. They simply retreated before their adversaries, trading their land for time, until winter’s cold struck for them, freezing their invaders stiff and forcing their withdrawal. If the Laskans were feeling particularly generous, they might let their defeated foes slink away with their tail between their legs, but more often than not, the Laskans used the opportunity to strike hard and brutally crush their already beaten enemies. Over the years, those lessons had been learned, and no one had dared invade the Laskans’ territory for generations.

  Yet I was left with no other choice—without a united Arrika, I could not take on the Dark Lands. My mandate was clear: all or nothing. We’d have to take on the Laskans on their own ground and beat them at the game they’d been playing for hundreds of years. My Army had certain advantages over the others that had tried and failed before, most importantly in its sheer numbers, but we had other cards to play in that game as well. I was confident that we’d eventually win that contest, but the price we might have to pay for the privilege could be daunting. But before we could even begin our campaign in the north, Ansa would have to fall to us first.

  We had our strategies set, and all that remained was to begin our march north—first to Ansa, and then onwards after our conquest from there to Laska. The Ansan representative had hurried away as soon as we’d dismissed him, no doubt to relay all he’d seen of our Army to his superiors, but we were in no rush to follow that same day. The vast might of our forces would begin their trek northwards the next morning, giving just that much more time for our most important preparations to arrive before our invasion of the island Realm.

  While my Army prepared to depart with the sunrise, I set off to finish a different task, one that I’d started months before but had yet to complete. It was perhaps the most important bit of unfinished business I had remaining, and as I contemplated its completion, I was filled with both nervousness and anticipation. Those mixed emotions still swirled around inside me in a jumble as I entered Líann’s chambers.

  “I was not told to expect you, Empress,” Thelmé greeted me apologetically. “Shall I fetch a meal for the two of you to share?”

  “Thank you Thelmé, but no,” I replied. “I need to spend some time with Líann before we depart. Just see that we are not disturbed.”

  Thelmé had come to embrace her role as our co-conspirator, and with a simple nod, she communicated her understanding of my request to me before I entered Líann’s private chambers.

  Líann hadn’t been expecting me, so my sudden appearance in her room took her by surprise. Although we’d only just parted a short while ago at the conclusion of the War Council, Líann greeted me with a warm smile as if we hadn’t seen each other in many days.

  “Good afternoon, Empress,” she offered playfully. “To what do I owe the honor of your unexpected visit?”

  “I’m here to finish what we started, Táriel,” I replied to her far more seriously. “If you are up to the challenge.”

  Líann’s sense of mischief vanished with my words as she realized what I was offering her: the final V’Ríel she needed to truly become my Táriel. I’d warned her that this would be her most difficult challenge, the one that would be most foreign to her. Even though Líann’s nature cried out for domination, she needed to struggle and fight against it first. The challenge of submitting without a fight, especially while I filled her with threads of pleasure urging her to action, might very well prove beyond her ability to endure.

  But Líann knew all of this already. Even though I told her she’d have to wait for this moment, I’d tried to prepare her for it as best I could. So, when I told her that it was finally time for us to try, she took on a look of determination, and embraced the challenge.

  “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  Líann’s role was simple, as this V’Ríel was about acceptance more than anything. She had to submit to the gentle threads I would be sending her and allow them to run their course within her without fighting back or responding with her own passions. Inside those threads was a tangle of many other issues, including trust and even self-assurance; an entire web of emotions all revolving around one central theme: giving one’s self over utterly and entirely to another.

  None of these were familiar to Líann—even the dominance she sought was rife with her need to fight against it. Her ability to submit was predicated on the need to know that she’d been defeated first. Líann’s submission had to be earned; it was not something she’d simply give away freely, but that was the challenge she needed to overcome if Líann was ever to become Táriel. She knew that well enough. She only needed to face down her fears and let go of herself long enough to let it actually happen.

  And I wouldn’t cheat or make things easy on her. Líann needed to truly pass this test, and I intended to tempt her as much as possible while she endured my threads. So, after I had her strip down and lay atop her bed for me, I did the same before I sat down beside her.

  “You can look at me, if you want to,” I whispered to her softly. “But you cannot touch me. These threads are for you alone. You must accept them and let me do what I want with you.”

  I had my own brief moment of doubt as I had to stop to compose myself before I began. Líann’s body lay there before me in all its perfection, and part of me wanted nothing more than to take her. Her soft skin and gentle curves beckoned to me as they always did, and I struggled against the deep desires she kindled in me. But with one final deep breath, I set those desires aside, at least for the moment, and focused solely on Líann instead. Which was, after all, my half of this V’Ríel.

  Líann shivered as I lay my hand gently on her chest, and when the first delicate threads of desire began to wind their way through her, I felt Líann’s reflexive barriers instantly respond to them. Her desire to reach out to me, to engage with my passions, to make war with them, fought within her against her competing desire to master this last V’Ríel. I trailed my fingers across her skin, sending the tendrils even deeper inside her as Líann fought with herself, and as her body reacted to the pleasures I sent her, writhing in their subtle ecstasy, I felt the heat of the intense battle being waged inside her.

  I caught a flicker of movement from her hands as Líann started reaching for me, and I thought for a moment that she’d lost her struggle. Determined, she reined herself in, and in that very moment, I felt her begin to absorb the tendrils I sent her for the first time.

  It started as a slow but definite trickle that soon grew into a torrent. In that instant, Líann hadn’t only learned to tolerate this last V’Ríel, she’d also embraced it fully. With her surrender, Líann’s body reacted powerfully as it finally welcomed the strange sensations of this newest emotion. Líann’s slow, almost reluctant movements in response to my threads surged into a desperate release as she accepted everything I was funneling into her with a willing abandon. Then, after a final series of shudders, Líann fell eerily still.

  Initially, I thought she’d just been a bit overwhelmed by the experience, as she had last time. Then I noticed the irises of her eyes were nearly solid black, as her pupils had dilated to fill them almost entirely. At first, I tried to gently wake her from whatever state she’d fallen into, but when I couldn’t rouse her, I panicked. It was as if Líann’s body was there, but Líann herself was absent. An overwhelming sense of fear took hold of me, and I and shook her in my desperation, begging Líann to r
eturn to me as I did.

  Almost as suddenly as the catatonic state had taken her, Líann recovered from it, taking in a long, deep breath as she did. I held her tightly as she took in several more breaths and recovered from the ordeal she’d undergone. Only when I felt her body finally relax again did I peel myself away from her and ask her what had happened to her.

  “I… froze,” she replied, still somewhat disoriented. “I’m not sure what happened, but I’ve been changed again. I’m no longer who I was. I’m your Táriel now.”

  When Líann spoke those last words, I heard them; not with my ears, but in my soul. In those few terrifying moments, she truly had become my Táriel—my everything. I could feel the change in her then. Something incredible had happened while she’d been away from her own body, and when Líann returned to herself, she was more than she’d ever been before. More than I probably deserved, but everything the two of us needed to complete each other.

  Nothing else mattered to me then—not my Empire nor its impending war. Not even my quest meant anything at all to me. The only thing that mattered was Líann, my Táriel, and I stayed with her for hours without a care in the world. We had nearly an eternity ahead of us together, and I realized even that might be too short a time with her.

  But that time still had to wait. I’d made my promises to Tási, and despite what had happened, I didn’t intend on breaking any of them. Even Líann was reluctant to push me to break those words, and she encouraged me to leave her side for the night as well, knowing that we still had many centuries ahead of us yet to come. Honestly, if she’d pushed me to stay, I cannot say that I would have been able to resist my Táriel. But Líann had grown so much in just the short span of moments, and she held me to my promises just as strongly as she would have if I’d made those vows to her instead of Tási.

  It was late; far later than I realized when I made it back to the rooms Tási and I shared in Oróna, but she said nothing as I crawled into bed beside her. Tási only welcomed me back and snuggled up next to me before falling asleep on my shoulder. I felt incredibly guilty then, with her sleeping peacefully beside me, unaware of what had just happened. I’d replaced her—replaced the woman who, more than anyone, was responsible for making me who I was. Tási was perhaps even more responsible for who I’d become than I was myself. Without her, none of what I’d accomplished would have been possible. Yet I could no longer say that she was first in my heart anymore. Truthfully, Líann hadn’t taken that place from her just that night, but had done so long ago, the very moment I knew that she’d someday become my Táriel. On that day, Líann hadn’t diminished my love for Tási, I’d let her do something far worse… I’d allowed Líann to eclipse it.

  But that was something I’d never let Tási know, much less feel. Letting it happen was bad enough; allowing Tási to feel it would be an unpardonable sin—a betrayal of her love that I simply wouldn’t commit. Líann and I could afford to wait. What we shared wouldn’t suffer for the delay of a few short decades. Tási would know nothing but the love I had for her, and not how it had been surpassed. I’d sooner die than let that happen. As Tási slept beside me, guilty tears began streaming down my face. That was the first night I cried myself to sleep next to her, and I was certain that it would not be the last.

  29

  The next morning, Tási nudged me awake and we got ready to begin our march off to war together. Her playful smile and attitude did a great deal to sooth my guilty heart, and I fell into our easy, comfortable manner as if nothing had happened. This was how I needed to be when I was with her, and I was grateful for how easy she made it for me. There was no need for me to force anything when I was with Tási—my love for her remained both genuine and intense.

  We shared breakfast before joining our Army outside Oróna’s walls. The vast train of soldiers and equipment had already begun marching away, starting its nearly five-week journey to our destination across the narrow straights from Ansa. Rather than get in the way of their efforts, I chose to remain in my carriage where Tási and I chatted about anything we could come up with to serve as a distraction during the long hours of boredom.

  Eventually, the carriage jolted to a start, and we were on our way as well. I knew that my position was almost directly in the middle of the long line of soldiers, and that it would be many more hours before the final train of supply wagons finally began its journey. But Tási had a remarkable ability to fall asleep almost at will; she was soon snoring softly with the slow rocking motion of the carriage, and I was left alone with only the company of my thoughts again.

  Boredom took its toll, and I sought any diversion, finally resorting to looking over my sheet just as a distraction. But once I opened the UI, I saw that I had a notification pending. I had an uneasy feeling about what it was, but with Tási still sleeping quite soundly, I opened it up anyway, despite how awkward it felt to do so.

  Sintári Quest, Control, Complete — Helping your Táriel reach her fulfillment has brought you well beyond the threshold of mastering all the elements of being a Sintári. You have achieved that which few Sintári ever imagined possible. Of course, there is still more room for you to grow, but the task of becoming mistress of your own emotions is complete.

  Complete? Did that really say complete? Reading the message several times over didn’t seem to change the words one bit, and I slumped back against the carriage’s plush cushions and continued to stare at the words floating in my vision for a long while.

  I’d had a really good level of control over my emotions for quite some time; they’d only been able to slip out of my grasp when I’d been away from Líann for too long. Other than that, as long as I had my Tári to help me keep things from getting out of hand, I was able to manage most anything. But to see that quest finally finished was an incredible relief, and the feeling of freedom that accompanied it was so powerful that it took me quite a while to notice what had been left out of the message—there had been no reward.

  I felt cheated for about half a second, but then I realized that Líann herself was more of a reward than anything else I could imagine. Thinking about things in those terms made me realize something else that I’d completely overlooked—Tási.

  I’d been so consumed with guilt thinking about how I was letting Líann take her place and viewing Tási in terms of what she wasn’t, rather than appreciating just who she was. Tási wasn’t anything less because she wasn’t my Táriel; she was just as much my everything as I’d always thought she was. The fact that Líann had become something more didn’t have to change anything between us. That was only my mind stuck once more thinking in human terms, but I was a Sintári—I was capable of much more than that.

  That was when I recognized the real reward I’d received: the ability to perceive things in Sintári, and not human terms. My love for my Tári and my Táriel didn’t have to conform to any of the limited concepts that humanity used to constrain their emotions. I could love each of them fully and completely. None of them needed to be ‘first’ in my mind; they all held that position. I was more than capable of giving myself to each of them, without reservation. And I also knew that eventually, I could teach them to understand that as well.

  Only after I’d spent a great deal of time musing over that point did I finally close the window I’d been staring at. Over the course of my life, I’d come to a number of stark realizations about myself, but from the day I’d first understood who I was to uncovering the many challenges of being a Sintári, this was the most powerful of all. I’d come to love four very different women, not only because of my need for them, but for who they were and how they made me feel—not just about them, but about myself when I was with them.

  During my time with them, I’d been plagued with a sense of guilt over how my mind seemed to relentlessly need to categorize and rank my love for them against each other, but that was a fool’s errand—one I had no need for. Understanding that was the key to finally understanding myself. I was a Sintári, unbound by the limits of huma
nity. If I could feel something in my soul, then it was real. My love, just like all my emotions, had no limits.

  As the window closed, my vision failed to resolve into clarity however, as the tears I’d cried the night before resumed again. Only this time, instead of tears of guilt, they were tears of joy. I’d felt like I’d betrayed Tási, and myself as well, by finding an even stronger love with Líann. But neither of those things were true. I’d betrayed nothing—I’d only uncovered another facet of myself, and denying that part of me would have been the only true betrayal.

  Achieving that state of peace changed the entire tenor of our march northwards for me. I was able shed every bit of doubt and guilt I’d had about being with my Tári, and the moments I spent with them were among the most fulfilling I’d ever experienced. The truth I’d found made all the difference. Not only to me, but to them as well, because it wasn’t just my truth I’d discovered, it was ours.

  We had the roads almost entirely to ourselves during our march. Word spread quickly ahead of us, and the caravans and other travelers cleared the way for us rather than get held up waiting for the long tail of our procession to pass them by. Although the people of the land let us through easily, the creatures were somewhat less compliant.

  Our final destination was the city of Harford, in the Realm of Ryland. On our way there, we suffered two more attacks by small mobs of beastkin, but the roving bands never made it close to our ranks and were cut down before I even had a chance to join in on their slaughter.

  The attacks both frustrated and puzzled me—on both occasions, the beastkin came at us in such small numbers that my Army had wiped them out completely before I even had a chance to step out of my carriage. Their assaults were so obviously doomed to failure that I couldn’t understand why the practically rabid beastkin hadn’t retreated in the face of such overwhelming odds, until Ella pointed out the one element all the attacks had in common.