Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 03

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True to his word, Civilicus fished for their supper.

Meanwhile, Ciara prepared camp. A slight breeze ruffled her golden hair and the Sun warmed her skin as she gathered dead wood for a cooking fire. While she hunted up the twigs and finger-thin branches she couldn’t help but look around herself in wonder.

Lake Dark Starwater was the largest body of water she’d ever seen. From where she stood the shore curved away the left and right, leaving only the great sheet of water to stretch out to the blue horizon. She shivered slightly. Ciara couldn’t swim and had a healthy respect, if not fear, of natural bodies of water.

The land about the lake was formed in low hills, gently sloping down to the water’s lapping edge. The rolling grass meadowland had been neatly cropped by the herds of wild sheep which inhabited the area. Their sturdy pack-pony was tied to a nearby tree, chomping at the sweet grass at its hooves. Everything was clothed in either spring-green or splashed with colorful clumps of early season wildflowers. There was birdsong from the trees.

Back home it’s still bitter cold, Ciara thought. Somewhat amazed that she and Civilicus had actually walked out of winter’s freezing grip.

And its so peaceful here.

Every now and then her gaze would stray to the figure of Civilicus, away down the lakeshore, holding a cane fishing pole he’d unfolded from his back-pack. From the frown on his face it was plain to Ciara that he had things on his mind. She had noticed that since coming into the lake region a change had come upon him. He’d become far more withdrawn and Ciara suspected much of it had to do with the Oracle of the Lake. Civilicus had told her the Oracle was a soothsayer, a prophet he’d visited at the outset of his wanderings years be-fore. Beyond that meager information he hadn’t confided in her and she had not pried.

During their travels a quiet mutual respect had come up between the two of them. The morning after he’d defeated Soren and his thugs, Civilicus had thrown Ciara’s bondage papers into the campfire and told her not to call him master anymore. Just like that she was a free woman. But, having been Soren’s servant since early childhood, it had taken sometime for Ciara to accept the fact that she was out of bondage. For many days calling her benefactor by his name had felt decidedly odd.

She saw the pole twitch in his hands, then jerk as a fish took the bait. A smile curved Civilicus’ lips, chasing away the somberness from his dark face, as he pulled on the rod and landed his catch. Ciara turned back to the fire-building, using one of the last of their sulfur head matches to start the blaze. # # #

Dinner came and went. Ciara leaned against the trunk of a downed tree, her belly full of fish, boiled dandelion greens, beans and biscuits. Content, she watched the sky over the water tarnishing into the oranges and golds of evening.

Civilicus came up from the water’s edge, his face still wet from washing up. “The Sun’ll be setting soon,” he smiled. “Then, you’ll see a sight.”

“What,” she asked, as he joined her on the grass against the tree trunk.

“You’ll see,” he grinned

“What? Tell me.”


Ciara frowned slightly, it wasn’t like Civilicus to be so mysterious. She shrugged then dug out her pipe and pouch from her backpack. She methodically filled the pipe and learned forward to pluck a burning twig from the edge of the campfire to light the bowl. They shared the pipe, Ciara snuggling into Civilicus arms, and watched the sky shade from gold to bronze to dusk. The Sky darkened from the east, then one by one the higher magnitude stars began to wink white against the black bowl of night.

Ciara found out why the lake had been given its name. Relaxed against Civilicus’ chest, secure in his arms, she watched as the dark horizon merged with the equally dark calm water. Ciara gasped, experiencing the illusion that she was suspended with the Heavens themselves as the endless lake became a gi-gantic and perfect reflecting pool. She felt slightly dizzy as the star field and the lake became one, only Civilicus’ arms kept her anchored to the world.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s as if we’re floating among the stars.”

“Yes,” Civilicus said, a smile in his voice.

“It’s a true wonder.”

“Yes.” And Civilicus chuckled at her frank amazement, glad he’d shared the experience with her.

Ciara felt his laugh rumble in his chest against her back and she turned in his arms to kiss him, deeply. As their mouths met, she thought not for the first time that she might be in love with Civilicus. Certainly he was her hero and rescuer. Ciara had no doubt that without him she would’ve never known this new life of seeing the wide world and all of its unexpected treasures. But she wasn’t an empty-headed fool. Ciara knew that in his mind they were travel com-panions and lovers only in the sense that they enthusiastically shared each others bodies.

We end with the journey,” she thought, sadly. Then she sighed into his kiss and began to unlace her blouse, revealing her tanned and smooth breasts.

# # #

In the morning of their third day at the lake, Civilicus left Ciara asleep on shore and peddled a dug-out alone to the Island of the Oracle. The small boat, which Civilicus had fashioned from a gouged out tree-trunk, glided silently across the still water.

It’d been more than ten years since his original journey to the Oracle’s island. So much had happened in the intervening years that he scarcely felt like the same man who’d first approached the temple a decade past. It was a disturbing thought that most of the change in him hadn’t been toward the good. He grunted to himself, dismissing the pessimistic thought, dipped his oar below the surface and stroked harder. Within a quarter hour, the canoe prow bumped the island’s shore and he jumped out, pulling the boat up on the dry land. Civilicus, backpack in hand, began to walk up the wide and winding stone path toward The Temple of the Oracle.

The temple itself was simple splendor. Composed of shadow gray granite, the large rectangular structure which took up a full quarter-acre of ground. It’s slightly slanted roof soared well above the surrounding treetops.

A flock of doves burst up from the ground as Civilicus approached, the combined dull snaps of their wings quieting the chirp and buzz of the insects inhibiting the high grass to either side of the path. In the sudden silence the smack of his boot leather on the path seemed abnormally loud. Civilicus began to feel as if he were being watched. Although he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he kept having to fight the urge to turn around. Except for the pres-ence of the Oracle herself, most likely he was alone on the island, it being otherwise uninhabited. He knew the cause of his increasing edginess was from drawing closer to the Oracle’s seat of power, closer to the immortal’s dwell-ing. He’d felt the same way the first time he’d trod the stone path.

Civilicus kept his sight on the temple, ignoring the oppressive uneasi-ness as best he could. But, where only moments before the air had been sweetly scented by springtime flowers, their perfume was now heavy and cloying. The early morning sunlight became over bright, so that he began to squint.

Eventually, Civilicus reached the high incline of steps which bordered the temple on all sides. Through time, vines had crawled over the gray stone, carpeting it in living greenery. He walked over the broad leaves and hooked thorns, climbing to the top of the stairs and paused by a vine-covered column which stood some feet before the temple’s entrance. Civilicus briefly rested his hand on the pillar before jerking it back with a hiss. A thorn of the vine had pierced his palm, drawing several deep red beads of blood. He absently wiped the blood away on his trousers, before, with the faint thud of his heart-beat in his ears, Civilicus took a deep breath and for the second time in his life walked into the shadowed interior of the Oracle’s temple.

The interior was full of columns which supported the high away ceiling. At the far end of the great space sat a twenty-foot statue of the Oracle. Light played strangely over its surface, the patterns of shadows shifted and morphed. The overall effect was to make the marble image seem animate.

“So,” came the voice of the Oracle, filling the temple from all direc-tions. “The young traveler returns. Hmm, but now some years older for his long journey. Given the constellation of dangers I foresaw for you, I was not alto-gether certain I’d see you again, Lord Kanaka. Oh, but you still use the name Civilicus, don’t you?”

“Yes, milady,” Civilicus bowed. “After all these years it’s as legitimate as any other name I might claim.”

“Quite so,” the Oracle agreed. “Ah. And you come bearing gifts?”

“A token to the lady, for your sound advice that stood me in good stead.”

“Then bring it forth.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Civilicus walked the length of the floor to the statue and the low altar which stood before it. He put a large piece of whale-ivory on a silver plate on the altar before stepping back.

“Ah. Ivory of the frozen north. A rarity in this part of the world,” the disembodied voice of the Oracle said. Then there was the sound of sniffing. “I smell fresh blood.”

At first the statement seemed nonsensical to Civilicus, so out of context were the words. Then he remembered the thorn prick and how he’d smeared the drawn blood on his pants.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “A thorn in my hand.”

“Blood,” the Oracle repeated, expressing the word in a whispering moan.

There was a sudden, and dazzling bright light. Civilicus grunted in reac-tion, shutting his eyes tight in pain and threw his arms protectively over his face. After a few moments he lowered his arms and blinked his lids open again. He saw he was no longer alone in the temple.

A figure stood before the statue of the Oracle. It was the prophetess herself in the flesh. She stood a little over five feet in height. Her skin was a creamy tan with an olive undertone. Her hair was black and her eyes were gray as the stone of her shrine. Her figure was that of the statue which loomed be-hind her, large-breasted, womanish hips. Her legs and fleshed thighs could just be seen through the gossamer of her white robed gown and her shapely arms were entirely bare. Her nails were long but unvarnished. Her lips held a natural light blush. Her gaze was level and direct. A very tenuous aura seemed to radi-ate from her and Civilicus had no doubt that he stood in the presence of a god-dess. A superstitious shiver shuddered through him.

“Blood,” the Oracle repeated, her sensuous lips caressing the word.

She moved toward the human, her hands reaching for his hand that carried the thorn mark. Heat sizzled through Civilicus’ body at her touch. The Oracle brought his palm to her lips, parting them and flicking a quick pink tongue over the slight wound. The tongue of the she-god baked his skin but did not blister.

He jerked his arm, as if to withdraw his hand from the reach of her po-tent touch. But the goddess pulled him with surprising strength into her em-brace. She placed a hand behind his head, bathing him in heat, and brought his mouth down to hers. The kiss of the Oracle burned on his lips. Her lips were mobile and cushioned. Her hands left a trail of running fire down his nerves where they touched his naked skin.

“It has been centuries since I’ve touched a human, tasted his blood,” she spoke against his lips. Smiling. “Ages more since I’ve lay with one of your kind.”

Within the embrace of the Oracle, Civilicus felt as if he stood before the open flames of a stoked forge. Sweat beaded his skin, began to run into his eyes, stinging.

She pushed him down to the floor and knelt between his open thighs. Faster than any human could, she undid his pants and under linen, pulling them down around his boots. Then, with a broad smile, the Oracle put a hand to his iron-hard cock and brought her mouth down to its wide, plum-colored head. Civilicus threw back his head, his handsome face in a fierce grimace, as a jolt slammed up from his cockhead throughout his body. As the Oracle kissed, then sucked the huge cockhead into her mouth, Civilicus tensed his hips, his hands clawing into the mosaic tile of the temple floor. The sensation was incredible, the goddess moaned as her raven black cascade of hair bobbed with the movement of her head as she enthusiastically milked him with her tight throat.

After several minutes of throat-fucking his dark, engorged cock, the Ora-cle pulled her swollen lips from his shaft with a smacking wet sound. She stood, her gaze locked on Civilicus’ eyes, as she raised her robes up above her hips. The straps fell off her slender shoulders and the front of her robes opened, allowing her heavy breasts to spill out. Then, very ungodesslike, she squatted over him and lowered herself down to the looming head of his spit-slickened cock. The panting soothsayer’s puffy-lipped pussy slid down around him.

Civilicus teeth clenched once more. The goddess’ cunt was exquisitely tight as it encircled his fat and long pole. Her grasping walls rippled apart, allowing his hefty cock a slow-entry. The Oracle’s juices lubed them without taking away the friction of his wide-flared glans scraping her walls. She gasped and pressed herself completely over his considerable length.

“Mortal flesh is so sweet,” she sighed, heavy lashes batting furiously. “I had forgotten how much,” she groaned.

Her soulful groan seemed to reverberate through him and that was when the visions started. Civilicus saw the shape of things to come. He heard the shrill cry of yet-to-be born babies and the anguished wails of the unfortunate mothers who lost their children. Cities, nations muscled up to prominence and were cast down by conquest, drought, arrogance. He saw those he knew in extreme youth as the brittle-aged and he saw the faces of multitudes of people he would never meet but knew their fates nonetheless. The future of the race, the world, the Universe pressed down on him as he felt the Oracle’s loins grip him fiercely and she shuddered.

Her climax was upon her.

The Oracle cried out and ground down hard around Civilicus’ enflamed cock, riding hard as the bow-wave of her orgasm smacked through her. He hear her moan and felt the strong, urgent contraction of her walls, griping his phallus with inhuman strength. He shouted out in reaction and couldn’t help but answer hers with his own orgasm. His powerfully muscled body tensed as he loudly grunted his seed deep into the immortal female. The goddess cried out again, her walls grasping him once more in their fierce grip as she quivered through another orgasm.

Even as Civilicus’ buried cock bucked deep inside her, spewing his seed into her slick and secret places, a powerful brilliant multicolored light deto-nated in his head. Civilicus’ vision wavered and the world grayed out. He car-ried the ferocious panting and cries of the Oracle down into the enveloping darkness with him.

And for awhile he knew no more.

# # #

He awoke in the dugout, the boat drifting toward shore. Civilicus’ head ached and his mouth was dry. The light was that of late afternoon, meaning he’d been unconscious for a few hours. His pack was in the bottom of the canoe. The memory of the rut with the Oracle seemed more like a dream, except for the throb in his cock and the ache in his head. A pendant hung from his neck by a thick silver chain. Part of the whale ivory he’d presented to the Oracle as an offering had been carved into the symbol of the navigator among his people, the silhouette of a mountain-peaked island.

After gathering his wits for a few minutes, he took up the oars and rowed the dugout back to the shore, toward his campsite. His head throbbing.

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