Second Skin Omnibus

by M Damon Baker

  I had also managed to squeeze the rather long list of Zedd’s past misdeeds from him. My people were not the first he’d murdered, nor were their deaths the worst of his crimes. He’d used his formidable powers as a Deathless to commit unspeakable acts against all too many innocent people, both before and after he became aware that this world and its inhabitants were real. Zedd had used his belief in his own immortality as a shield against suffering any repercussions for his reprehensible actions, but the more I learned of his past, the more determined I was to turn his shield into a sword of my own—a sword that I would use to carve my vengeance into his despicable hide.

  Although I had also failed to get him to give over his soul bound armor and sword to me, I knew that I’d have many more opportunities to try and ‘persuade’ him to do so. Many, many more opportunities.

  Still, I was somewhat frustrated by this as I returned to my tent for the night, but Saibra’s presence by my side reminded me of what I’d been looking forward to throughout the rest of the day. I wouldn’t be pushing her hard, at least not until we were back home, but I still had a great deal of anticipation for the time we’d be spending together. This was a feeling she seemed to share, but with a distinctly different flavor—one of near dread.

  As we entered the tent together, Saibra stopped in the antechamber while I headed straight to my bedroom where Bane awaited us. I’d decided to let him stay during the nights that Saibra would be ‘watching over’ me, not only because I missed him but also because his presence comforted her, as it assured Saibra that I wouldn’t be trying to push her into any intimacy with him there.

  I was already comfortably nestled against Bane’s massive foreleg when Saibra made her way to me. She was wearing the same completely obscuring sleeping outfit and deposited her gear on the table on the other side of the tent before venturing to sit down beside me. Although she laid down without me having to drag her into the blankets this time, I could see the uneasy look in her eyes again. A stray lock of hair had fallen across her face, and I brushed it aside before letting my hand rest on her shoulder. Saibra startled slightly at the contact but regained herself quickly once it was clear that the small gesture was all I’d intended.

  “We can just sleep together like we did last time if that’s all you’re comfortable with, Saibra,” I held her gaze as I spoke. “I’m willing to wait until we’re home for anything else. But once we are back home, I won’t let you hide from me anymore. I will begin healing you, and while I won’t force you to do anything you’re not ready for, I will be pushing you, Saibra. So, you may want to use the time we share on the road to start getting used to that. Beginning with finding something to sleep in that didn’t come from your grandmother’s closet.”

  She’d returned my gaze the entire time until I brought up her outfit. Then, Saibra glanced away quickly, clearly uncomfortable with even the idea of shedding its protection. I simply couldn’t understand it—she was a pretty woman with exotic features for an elf, and her profound shyness with her obviously well-toned body baffled me.

  “Can you talk about it?” I ventured to ask.

  Saibra remained silent for a long moment before whispering her reply.

  “I told you Insleí had a difficult life,” she barely managed to utter as she continued to look away from me. “There are… scars.”

  Well, fuck—that certainly explained things. She wasn’t hiding her body from me, at least not exactly. Saibra was hiding what had been done to it when she’d been Insleí.

  “None of that matters to me, Saibra,” I told her, pouring as much conviction as I could into my words. “You’re my Tári because of who you are, not because of how you look. You can’t know this yet, but the bond we’ll eventually share is not a physical one—it’s a bond between our souls. Our bodies are only the means we use to connect our spirits; the true bond between a Tári and her Sintári.”

  “You don’t understand—” Saibra protested.

  “Then show me. Make me understand,” I cut her off before she could continue.

  Saibra glanced up at Bane furtively, and I seized upon the opportunity to force the issue. While I wouldn’t make her do anything she wasn’t ready for, I was going to do everything I could to make it as difficult as possible for Saibra to refuse me.

  “I can ask him to leave if that would make it easier for you,” I coaxed her gently.

  Saibra nodded her head slowly, clearly both reluctant and uneasy, yet willing, nonetheless. Bane had followed our conversation and rose up, nearly filling the entire oversized chamber as he worked his way outside. I’d had the tent specially constructed for him, yet Bane had already practically outgrown its dimensions, and he had to press his wings tightly against the sides of his body just to squeeze through the tent flaps. Clearly, I’d need an even larger one made if I wanted his company much longer.

  But once Bane was gone, I took Saibra by the hand and sat down beside her on the warm pillows he’d left behind. Wordlessly, I took hold of the bottom of her nightdress, and when she nodded to me, I slowly pulled it up and over her head. Saibra had worn her undergarments beneath it, so she wasn’t fully exposed to me once I’d removed the thick cloth, but I could see the crisscrossing scars that traced over her plainly enough.

  Most were thin, faded lines, barely detectable in the dim light. A few were more pronounced, the most prominent of them beginning just below her right breast and continuing in a downward diagonal line across her entire body, ending abruptly at her opposite hip.

  I reached out reflexively and traced my finger along the arc of that old wound, and surprisingly, Saibra didn’t recoil from my touch. She only smiled wistfully before telling me how it came to be there.

  “One of Insleí’s first jobs,” she related. “Nearly her last as well. The only healing she could afford was not quite up to the task, and it left her with this as a reminder of her failure.”

  The crystals I’d always used were powerful and relatively expensive, so it was no surprise that some people were unable to afford them. The thin scars that adorned Saibra’s body were a testament to just how many times Insleí had been wounded as she perfected her craft, and also how long it had taken her to be able to afford those more powerful healings. But despite that, none of what I could see mattered to me. In fact, even the worst of them took nothing away from the allure of Saibra’s perfectly toned body, and I couldn’t understand why she’d been so hesitant.

  “I think you severely overestimated these scars, Saibra,” I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ve seen far worse.”

  “No, you haven’t,” she whispered softly as she turned away from me.

  She was right.

  Saibra’s entire back was completely covered in thick bands of badly healed scar tissue. Inch-wide stripes of mangled skin overlapped each other, obvious evidence of the severe and repeated whippings she’d suffered through at some point. The sight of the cruel wounds on her body brought tears of understanding to my eyes—one of which fell on her shoulder as I stared helplessly at the injuries she’d received. These were no mere scars—they were signs of abuse, indications of Insleí’s difficult life, one Saibra had only hinted at before.

  “Tell me,” I asked Saibra gently. “Tell me how you got these.”

  Saibra told me Insleí’s story but didn’t turn to face me as she spoke. After hearing it, I didn’t blame her… It was a difficult tale to relate.

  “Insleí’s mother died when she was only three,” Saibra began slowly, choosing her words carefully as she went along. “Her father blamed Insleí for the loss they should have shared and took out his anger on her at every opportunity. He’d whip her without mercy for any failure, real or otherwise. A spot on the dishes or if she’d forgotten to feed the chickens—it didn’t matter what the reason was, the punishment was always the same. She endured his torment for many years until she couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “The night she snuck into her father’s room and slit his throat was the happiest night of
my life,” Saibra confessed proudly, and I didn’t miss the fact that she’d slipped and put herself in Insleí’s place. “Although his death set her free, it was too late for her. The damage he’d done was too great—she’d already been ruined by then. All she knew was pain and suffering, so that’s where her path led her.”

  Saibra’s tale ended with her silence. I knew that she was badly damaged, but I had no idea just how far back her wounds had gone. She needed healing, desperately, but we couldn’t even begin the kind of treatment Saibra needed until we were safe and secure back at the Palace. Yet I couldn’t simply do nothing in the face of what she’d told me. Saibra had finally opened up to me physically, and more importantly, emotionally, and I had to give her some sort of support in return. But without my tendrils, I was left with only my words and actions, and I offered both of those to her without reservation.

  I wrapped my arms around Saibra slowly, not wanting to startle her, then pulled her closer, pressing her bare skin against me as I drew her to her lay down beside me. I held her tightly, letting Saibra feel my body against hers, holding her scars against me as I whispered in her ear.

  “I promise to heal your wounds, Saibra. Not these meaningless marks on your flesh, but your real wounds; the ones that you hold deep inside. But until I can do that, you need to know that I love you and that you deserve to be loved. And for what it’s worth, so did Insleí. She may have been beyond redemption when our paths crossed, but she was innocent once—we shouldn’t allow ourselves to forget that. You may have to bear her scars, Saibra, but there’s no need for you to feel her pain.”

  Saibra’s façade crumbled as I spoke, and she broke down in tears as I finished. The pain of what had been done to her flooded through Saibra’s veins, as clear to me as if I’d had my tendrils inside her. All I could do was hold Saibra close, stroking her hair and comforting her as best I could while she let her pain finally flow freely.

  “She was just a child,” Saibra managed between her wracking sobs.

  “I know, Saibra,” I tried to soothe her.

  “She never had a chance.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “It wasn’t fucking fair!”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “You killed her.”

  My heart froze as she uttered those words, and I feared that I might have awakened something within Saibra that would have been better left undisturbed. I searched for a response, some way to answer her accusation, until Saibra spoke again.

  “You set her free. You set us both free.”

  Saibra shifted around towards me and didn’t pull away when we came face to face, only inches away from each other. The tracks of her tears glistened in the dim light, and as she searched my eyes, I stared back into her steely grey irises, wondering just what she was looking for.

  “Can you make me a real person again?”

  My heart ached to hear her say those words.

  “Yes,” my voice broke as I replied to her. “No matter what it takes, we will heal you, Saibra.”

  She kept staring into my eyes for another long moment before finally nodding in response. Knowing her as I did, I thought that meant that our conversation was over, but Saibra wasn’t quite finished. She leaned in closer, surprising me for a change, and pressed her lips to mine in a quick, soft kiss before pulling away abruptly. Her display of affection startled me, mostly because of how unexpected it was, and even Saibra seemed caught off guard by what she’d done.

  For a second, she seemed confused and then glanced away awkwardly. I watched as Saibra reached up to trace her fingers across her lips, as if unsure that they’d actually felt what she’d experienced. Her gesture reminded me that, despite her formidable abilities, Saibra knew nothing of love, and I’d need to tread lightly as I helped her unravel its mysteries.

  “I liked that too,” I took Saibra’s hand in mine as I spoke to her.

  Saibra’s confession seemed to serve as a breakthrough of sorts, and she offered no resistance when I pulled her in to nestle with me in the comfort of Bane’s cushions. She stiffened only slightly when I wrapped my arms around her, and my hands came to rest on the thick, layered scars of her back, but she relaxed again when I simply held her close. Saibra’s wounds weren’t her only scars, but it seemed as if we might’ve begun healing at least some of them already.

  “You can wear whatever you want when we’re together, Saibra” I whispered to her softly as we lay together in the darkness. “But I prefer you just like this.”

  “I’ll try, Dreya,” she replied, and I knew that she meant it.

  As difficult as it had been for Saibra to reveal her old wounds to me, once she’d done so, they’d lost much of their hold over her. I hadn’t expected to make quite so much progress on our first real night together, yet Saibra’s willingness to open up to me left me both hopeful and somewhat in awe. She’d led a difficult life; one that many wouldn’t have survived, and I swore to do whatever it took to make her future a happier one.

  5

  During our shared breakfast the next morning, Ella relayed the news that’d they’d found an Evoker among our troops who had a fairly decent ability with the Lore talent. He was already looking over Zedd’s gear, and more importantly, the collar that was preventing me from learning the identity of his hidden master.

  She’d only told me this little tidbit when we were almost finished eating, knowing full well that I’d rush to see what the Evoker had discovered the moment I learned it. Ella was correct, of course, and I shot out of my chair and did just that as soon as she finished telling me.

  Aaden, the Evoker, was waiting outside the tent where we were keeping Zedd, but the look on his face spoke only of frustration. It was clear that Aaden hadn’t been able to learn all I’d hoped, so my enthusiasm was already dampened when I inquired about what he’d found.

  “His armor and sword are rather powerful, Empress,” Aaden replied. “The leather works to increase its wearer’s Stealth, while the blade enhances its wielder’s talent with edged weapons.”

  That armor bonus certainly explained how Zedd had gotten past our scouts and sentries, something that had been a sore spot for them after he’d infiltrated our lines with such ease. I knew that Aaden couldn’t determine the exact bonuses of the equipment like I could, but since he’d identified both items for me, I should be able to see their particulars for myself with only a quick peek.

  “Unfortunately, the properties of the chain around the prisoner’s neck are beyond my ability to divine,” Aaden confessed. “But I can tell that it’s an active enchantment—one that requires constant maintenance. If we can sever the connection between it and whoever is powering its magic, the links should fail.”

  “Can you do this?” I asked, hopeful that he could. Without the protection of his dark metal collar, Zedd would be vulnerable to my questioning, and I’d finally learn the secret of his hidden master.

  “Yes, I think I can, Empress,” Aaden replied confidently.

  We strode into the tent, and I kicked Zedd forcefully as I walked past his sleeping body, rousing him awake while I took a moment to peer into his backpack. Even though his armor and sword were still bound to him, when I looked inside, I could finally see just what they were.

  Shadow Leather — This armor grants a 30% bonus to Stealth Abilities. You are unable to use this armor, as it is soul bound to another.

  Short Sword of Proficiency — All Blade talents are increased by 20% while this weapon is being wielded. You are unable to use this weapon, as it is soul bound to another.

  Not bad, Zedd. The armor would likely be best suited for one of Khorim’s agents, but there was a certain Táriel I had in mind for that sword; once I’d pried it away from Zedd and had one of the Curates sanctify it at least. Although the metal didn’t necessarily carry the taint of Zedd’s deeds, knowing what he’d done with that blade, I’d still feel better having it cleansed somewhat before handing it over to Líann.

  “Good morning, Zedd,”
I greeted the filthy animal with a false smile. “Well, at least it’s going to be a good morning for me—not so much for you.”

  Zedd only glared back at me, fully healed from the damage I’d left him with the night before by his Deathless powers. With a nod to Aaden, the Evoker began working to sever the connection between Zedd’s links and his master’s energy, while the Deathless could only look on helplessly.

  The collar’s dark metal pulsed briefly as Aaden worked his magic and then crumbled to dust when the Evoker managed to disrupt the flow of energy that provided its power. I experienced the brief thrill of my own anticipation at the thought of finally wrenching the answers I needed from Zedd, but that was not to be.

  As the links turned to dust, a final burst of dark energy oozed from the shattered metal. The thin filaments radiated with pure evil before they leached into Zedd’s skin, and as they vanished inside him, the dark chain’s magic revealed that it had one final means to protect its master’s identity.

  The shadowy magic began rending its way through Zedd’s body, and he screamed in utter agony as his flesh was torn apart before my eyes. Gaping wounds tinged with black corruption ripped wide open as Aaden and I quickly backed away, and Zedd was reduced to a formless pile of putrid, black sludge in a matter of seconds. The shock of what we’d witnessed rendered both of us mute for several long moments until Aaden ventured to speak.

  “I… I am sorry, Empress,” he offered an apology with his shaken words. “I was not aware that such a response was possible.”

  “It’s not your fault, Aaden,” I replied as I stared at the foul mass that had been the Deathless just a moment before.

  Aaden truly was blameless—the links around Zedd’s neck were well beyond our understanding—not a very reassuring fact when I considered that we were destined to face their maker when we ventured into the Dark Lands.