0 comments/  44405 views/  1 favorites

Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 01

By: Alii Nui



Their adventure began on a snowy night.

The unusually powerful snowstorm raged for two days. Disturbingly keening winds had howled and whistled around the small collection of huts in the hamlet settled just outside the tree line of the deep Hockwood Forest. The village was called Norlander, the most northern settlement in the world. The blizzard dumped several score stone-weight of snow and the powder formed high drifts which had all but buried the little town. But by sundown of the second night the tremendous blizzard had practically blown itself out with only light flurries swirling new flakes down on the high piled smothering white drifts. 

It was near midnight when the last of the dying gusts blew light powder in through the inn's door as the hooded traveler entered. He closed the door quickly behind him, shutting out the wind, the snow, the cold and the night. He stood with his back to the door and let his dark eyes adjust to the mellow light of the room, given off by the dying flames in the fireplace and the single lit candle on top of a long table. Snow dusted his hood and on his broad shoulders formed small piles, which steamed as they melted in the tavern's warmth. He stomped his boots hard, dislodging the accumulated snow on them and threw back his hood before drawing off his thick fur cloak. 

With dark brown eyes the traveler ran his gaze around the shadowed tavern room of the inn. The ceiling was of age-darkened wood planks and exposed beams stretched perhaps eight feet above the sawdust sprinkled stone floor. The walls were also of wood, split-logged and mud-dabbled. Old and dusty tapestries draped the log walls, the better to preserve the room's heat against the winter cold.

The long dining table, about half the length of the tavern's great room itself, was set in its center. The aforementioned burning candle had been placed into a thick pedestal of wax. The traveler guessed that the mound of paraffin was the remains of other many other candles which had resided on the table. He could see other mounds with other unlit candles arranged along the centerline of the rough table top. 

Even with his nose numbed from the cold the traveler could still smell the somewhat sour scent of humanity, old sweat and other stale body odors rising from the straw and down-filled cushions of the tavern's furnishings.

The fireplace was a large fieldstone affair with a sooty black maw large enough for a tall man to stand upright in and wide enough to accommodate five men shoulder to shoulder. A log, mostly eaten away by low-dancing flames, set in iron dogs above a bed of dying embers. The fireplace's hearthstone was of one huge single piece. It was there that the man saw the woman for the first time. 

She was on the floor before the hearth, dressed in an unbleached white linen blouse, the hems of her gray flannel apron and long green wool skirt tucked under her long legs. Her feet were bare and she held a smoking pipe in one hand. She looked at him with her clear blue eyes, giving the late visitor a frank stare, plainly surprised at his appearance. 

"Greetings, Master," she said, rising gracefully, her skirt swirling around her naked ankles. "Welcome to Soren's Inn. I didn't expect anyone would come in from the road, from the storm at this hour."

"I'd hoped to be here before sundown," the traveler said in a deep, modulated voice. "The snow slowed me."

The serving woman nodded and put the pipe between her white and even teeth. "I'm guessing you'll be wanting a room."

"I'll be wanting a hot drink," he corrected her. "Then a hot meal. Then a room."

The woman smiled. "Aye. My name is Ciara. And what might yours be, Master?"

The stranger hesitated for a moment before replying. "Civilicus."

"Master Civilicus." She nodded. "A raw night to be abroad." 

"Aye. Nearly frozen, thus the need for hot drink." He threw her a cooper coin which Ciara deftly caught in a slender fingered hand.

"I'll go fetch the Master's supper then." 

She did a quick curtsy before sashaying through the dining hall. Civilicus watched the sweet-faced wench go. He noted the rolling sway of her sensual hips beneath her sweeping skirt and the way her bare feet skipped over the cold stones of the inn's floor before she disappeared through a door in the east wall. Involuntarily, he grunted deep in his throat. It'd been some time since he'd looked upon a woman as a possible bedmate. For many years he hadn't been able to afford the distraction from his mission of pursuit. But that mission, that all-too necessary quest, had now successfully ended. He could afford to attend to his more animalistic needs. 

While waiting for the maid's return he threw his snow-sodden cloak completely from him, draping the thick variegated gray fur over a chair near the fireplace. Then he shrugged off his heavy backpack and unbuckled his sword belt before warming himself at the low-burning fire.

# # #

Ciara brought heated vodka in a crudely thrown but large earthenware cup, a wooden plate with a slab of pork, beans, and yellow-corn bread. There was also a bowl of potato honey pudding. 

Civilicus first took a deep drink of vodka then fell to the meal with gusto, using his fingers and short belt-knife as utensils. He hadn't eaten a hot meal in nearly a week, wood being scare in the frozen wastes north of the Hockwood Forest. Even dried animal dung and desiccated bone had been buried under the snowy wastes. He'd been forced to content himself on the last part of the road with jerky and hard bread. He ate in silence while the serving wench sat in a chair somewhat down the table and quietly smoked her pipe while watching the man.

"You're of southern blood," she finally ventured.

"Yes." He took another long swallow of the vodka.

"Ah," she smiled, her pretty face lighting up. "I thought so. Not many of your people venture this far north."

"No. I suppose not." He wiped pork grease from his mouth, licking his full lips and bit off into the crumbly bread.

Ciara drew her knees up to her full breasts, the obvious caps of her nipples straining against her dress cloth, and smoked her pipe in silence. Watching him eat, dhe wondered but did not ask how the stranger had found his way to her remote little town. 


The late-night patron quickly finished his meal. Although he ate in a deliberate fashion and never seemed to hurry, the food quickly disappeared from Civilicus' platter. When done, he dipped his fingers into his vodka and wiped them on the hem of his wool pullover shirt. Ciara was mildly confounded by his actions, having never seen anyone use a fingerbowl or napkin in her life. 

Civilicus felt the girl watching his every move. He didn't mind her staring. A deep brown man was a curiosity in the far northern land of the pale and pink-skinned. Throughout the long years of his journey he'd grown used to the attention. Now that he was on his way home, his business in the north being concluded, let the natives stare all they wanted. And it wasn't unpleasant to be the center of attention of a beautiful female. His cock had slowly hardened as the meal had warmed him and the girl's aroma had invaded his wide nostrils, filling his lungs.

"I'll have the same of everything," he told the maid, looking into her expressive eyes.

She nodded. "Yes, Master." 

And Ciara gracefully unfolded herself from the chair, once more going into the kitchen with a saucy swish of her skirt and aprons. A trail of hemp smoke trailed on the air behind her, as well as the musk of her natural scent.

She is a pretty little one, he thought. A bit thin but ripe. 

Taking the opportunity to get up without the girl seeing the prominent bulge in his rawhide trousers, Civilicus scooted back his chair and went across the room to his belongings. He dug into his pack and brought out a pouch and pipe of his own. It seemed that most adults in the North smoked pipe weed and he too had picked up the habit in his travels. 

He had time to pack the pipe but put it aside without lighting when Ciara reentered the room with his food. Once more he ate as the girl watched on in silence. Both keenly aware of the other. Ciara began to blush for no apparent reason.

"More," she asked after he'd finished the second helping. 

Civilicus shook his head. "No, that'll do. I think I'll have a smoke now."

He stood, quite aware that his stiff cock had grown down his trouser leg, the bulge obvious to the girl's discerning glance, as he found a chair by the fire. Ciara's eyes widened and her pouty lips parted in a soft gasp, but she made no other comment as her skin tone deepened to a rosy hue. 

For a good half-hour they smoked together, staring into the flames when not casting furtive glances at one another.

"Time for me to be abed now, I think," Civilicus said, tapping his pipe bowl on the hearthstone, knocking out the ashes. His mood now decidedly mellow from the food and the smoke, he picked up his cloak and backpack.

Ciara nodded. "Yes, Master." Suddenly shy, she retrieved a candle from the fireplace mantel and lit it. "If you'll follow me."

She led him upstairs. With it's second floor, the inn enjoyed the distinction of being the tallest building in the village. It'd been built centuries before by the former ruling family of the region. The last of that family had died of the pox years before and the innkeeper Soren had come to own the tavern by right of squatting. The warped floorboards creaked and squeaked beneath their feet as Ciara led Civilicus to an empty room at the end of the hall. As they walked the length of the long hall they passed closed doors on either side of the corridor, behind some came the expected sound of snoring. One panel muffled the sound of a woman's excited voice, whether she spoke in anger or encouragement Civilicus could not be sure, nor did he much care. 

Finally, Ciara stopped at a door at the end of the corridor. "This room has a freshly stuffed down pillow and the mattress is packed with nearly new straw. It's only been slept on twice," she said, gracing him with a sultry smile before quickly averting her glance.

She opened the square lock on the door with a skeleton key from her apron pocket and lifted the latch, then held open the door for Civilicus who stepped into the room. Ciara set the candle in its holder on a roughhewn table by the door and hurried past the guest to turn down the narrow bed. The shape of her nicely rounded ass plain under the long skirt as she bent over the bed. 

"If you'd been expected, I would've placed a bed warmer to chase the cold from the sheets," Ciara said, turning her head and looking back at him over her shoulder. Her tone was apologetic, inviting and arousing all at the same time. In the room's unheated air her exhalations came as white puffs of vapor.

"It'll be alright," Civilicus responded, putting his cloak over a chair and his backpack in a corner of the small room, along with his sword. "The ground has been my bed for weeks. This stuffed palette is a luxury compared to that. It'll more than do."

Ciara nodded, but made no move to leave the room. It was clear to Civilicus that she had no wish to part from his company quite yet and it was as equally clear to Ciara that he had no urgent wish to see her go. They stared at each other, frankly appraising one another as male and female before Civilicus broke the tension by sitting on the bed and began to remove his boots.

"Here, Master, let me help with that," she said, going to her knees before him. 

The door swung shut of its own accord as Ciara grasped his scuffed wet boot. She put one hand behind the heel and one hand just below his calf and gave a good tug. The boot came off in a smooth motion. Ciara set it aside before removing the other one, then placed her hands on her thighs. Still on her knees she looked up at him, her eyes bright.

"Is there any other way I might serve you? Master?"

A slow smile pulled at Civilicus' broad lips. On his long walk down from the high artic he had been without human company for months. He'd been without a woman for much longer. And the wench was extremely sexy, without a doubt. 

"Mayhap," he allowed. "Could be."

###

Drops of sweat ran into the corners of Ciara's lovely eyes, stinging them. Her normally silky and shiny blonde hair hung limp and damp over her brow and down the sides of her head. She gave a short cry as she felt another orgasm rushing through her, tightening her tummy. Her pussy, soggy with her hot flowing juices, thoroughly drenched the hard fat cock buried deep inside her. Her passage rippled and clenched around the huge meat which invaded her molten cunt. 

Moaning incoherently, she lost herself in the rut. Ciara's lips were parted, pulled back from her teeth, as she rode atop Civilicus' sweaty body. Impaled solidly around his long black cock she ground and rotated her hips hard as another climax began to roar through her. Crying out, trembling, she collapsed across his chest, smashing her full tits across his corded pectorals, and bit down hard on his muscular shoulder. She grunted like an animal, the sound crumbling into a whimpering moan. When her lover gave her a hard swat across her smooth and soft ass the over-stimulated wench screamed into Civilicus' shoulder and shuddered as she came for the countless time that night. She was so lightheaded she feared passing out as her climax grabbed her with giant hands, shook her mercilessly and shot strong thrilling bolts outward from her shuddering pussy throughout her trembling body.

"Fuck me, girl," Civilicus growled. His large calloused hand smacked her damp ass again. "Ride me, slut."

"Yes, Master," she responded in a gasping, whining voice. 

Her pussy muscles dancing wildly around his huge dark dick, her shapely legs were to either side of his hardmuscled body stretched across the straw-filled mattress. The intense climax sizzled through her for an endless time, tears leaked from her squeezed shut eyes as she gave herself up completely to the sensation. No man, no cock, had ever forced such a severe reaction from her. Ciara hadn't known it was possible to come so hard for so many times. Her strength left her as the orgasm began to slowly ebb, she heard her heartbeat boom in her ears as she lay on Civilicus slicked body, dizzy and short of breath. She sobbed in both joy and relief, the impact of the release leaving her drained of all tension, completely satiated.

Civilicus chuckled softly as the woman's sex continued to clench and shudder around his ogre's cock. He slipped a finger between the rounded cheeks of her ass, pressing the digit to the wrinkled eye of her anus and rubbed it gently before inserting the finger up to the second knuckle.

"Master," Ciara groaned, as she felt her pucker rose violated.

Then Civilicus jerked his hips up, humping as deep into her as he could, the snout of his vast cock knob banging her far wall. He snarled as he finally released his own orgasm. His sac, dark and wrinkled, drew close to his body before the over-pressurized cum raged up through his long and thick shaft. His scalding hot seed blasted into her quivering cunt, splattering thick against her walls.

Ciara cried out once more, but too drained to move, she lay atop her lover and received his lava-hot seed, her perfect cheeks squeezing around the finger jammed into her bottom. Once more she gasped, "Master."

For his part, Civilicus growled as he dumped his steaming cum into the girl, marking her with his scent. He sawed his thickly veined pole in and out of her, opening her far wider than any man before, coaxing every drop of his cum from his balls into her eager pussy as the hard nubs of her pebbled nipples dragged over his chest.

The new lovers, depleted from their efforts, lay in an embrace for a long time. In their exertions they'd thrown the quilts from them and their naked bodies steamed in the wintry air of the room. Civilicus felt his cum and Ciara's pussy cream ooze from the seal of her stretched cunt mouth, down into his pubic hair and over his balls. He gave a rumbling chuckle from deep in his chest, Ciara feeling the vibrations through her flattened breasts. 

Eventually they drowsed and the wee hours of the night wore on. 

Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 02



Civilicus awoke to sunlight in the room. Thin translucent hides were stretched over the small window opening cut into wall. It was difficult to estimate the time of day by the filtered light but he felt as if he'd slept a long while.

Civilicus turned on the bed's straw mattress and felt stiff muscles ache. While on the road he'd slept on the ground without any problems. He grinned to himself at the irony that his body had only begun to complain only after he'd given it a bit of solid comfort on the soft bed. 

Civilicus punched and fluffed the musky down-filled pillow under his head and turned away from the wall. He saw that his pack, which he'd thrown into a corner of the room with his furs, had it's top flap open. It'd obviously been gone into.

He knew a moment of extreme panic as he threw the quilt from him and sprang naked from the bed, rushing over to the corner. His body covered by a cold-sweat, Civilicus hurriedly pulled the otter skin pack to him, flipping up the untied top flap. He frantically dug into the big leather bag, plunging for the bottom, his fingers questing among the many items in the pack until they touched a cloth-wrapped and heavy bundle. He pulled the item out and unwound the twisted hemp cord which kept it wrapped. A sense of relief washed over Civilicus as he saw the most precious thing in the world to him was safe in his hands. 

The Green Miora.

It was a stylized elongated human head carved of green coral, a hand's length high, a hand's width wide and about two stone-weight. It was sacred to Civilicus. A holy relic of his people. His future, his world depended on keep-ing it safe. 

He breathed easier and wiped the chilled sweat from his forehead, while at the same time cursing himself for having let down his guard. The object be-yond price might well have been stolen and his struggles of the last twelve years rendered in vain. Civilicus rewrapped and tied the object, once more stashing the thing in the very bottom of the backpack, making several knots in the drawstring of the top flap.

There was a quick, light rap at the door then it was opened. Ciara peeked into the room. She smiled when she saw he was up. "Good. Master is awake at last."

Civilicus frowned at her, full of anxiety and suspicion. "How long did I sleep?"

"You slept a night, a day and another night. This is the afternoon of the second day."

Civilicus nodded, not surprised. It had taken a lot for him to fight his way through the blizzard to reach the shelter of the inn. And the exhaustive fucking of the wench had taken it's toll as well. "Come in. Shut the door."

She obeyed, smiling, yet a cautious look was in her lively eyes. She could see he was plainly upset. He remained squatted over the backpack and Ci-ara could see his fat dark cock and sac swinging heavily between his powerful thighs. 

Civilicus' dark eyes gave Ciara a hard look. "Are you the one who went through my pack?" His voice held no warmth.

After hesitating a moment, Ciara said, "Yes. Soren, the innkeep, ordered me to."

"Why?"

"Because I'm his bond-servant. I'm contracted to him for three more years." Her mouth took on a sour expression. "Three years more of drudgery in this stinking tavern. I'm his step-daughter as well, so I have to do what he tells me to do. Or get switched."

"No, I meant why did he order you to search my belongings in the first place?"

"Oh." Ciara shrugged. "Because he's greedy and a thief. And a murdering highwayman as well. And a coward. He didn't have the courage to do it himself. He thought if you caught him searching your things that you might kill him. He figured if you caught me that you'd only beat me. And even if you did kill me he has three more daughters to do his bidding."

An untrusting frown remained on his mouth. "Yet you stole nothing."

Ciara shrugged once more. "Are you disappointed?" 

There was a teasing quality in her voice, an indication of her irre-pressible impish nature. "I told him you had nothing worth stealing but a few coppers. Hardly worth stealing or killing you over. I didn't tell him about the silver in your purse or your fur cloak."

"Why not?"

She boldly sat beside him and put her hand, faded to marble-white by win-ter, to his dark stubbled cheek. "Need you ask? For one thing you're an uncom-mon lover, Master Civilicus. And because for another, when you leave I want you to take me with you."

He shook his head and stood up, moving back to the bed. "No."

Ciara's smooth brow knitted into a slight frown as she followed him to the mattress. "Why not?"

"Because I'm leaving this cursed northern clime of yours. My road leads south to the sea and home. The trip is hazardous and I have no wish to take on the additional burden of you."

It was Ciara's turn to frown. "You don't know that I'd be a burden. I could prove myself very helpful to you. You'll need a servant to look after you, yes?" She took one of his hands in both of her own.

"No," Civilicus corrected her, pushing up off the bed. "I don't. And I won't." He crossed the cold floor of the room and began to urinate into the dented pewter chamber pot. 

"You might," she persisted.

"No. I won't." He washed his hands in a earthenware basin of water then splashed his face.

"You might," she repeated. And Ciara grinned as she pulled her skirt up around her hips. She took a pipe and a weed-pouch from a garter strapped to her well-formed thigh. "I do have my uses." 

Civilicus watched as the woman sat atop the quilt, the skirt up around her shapely hips. He could see that Ciara hadn't bothered to put on under linen and her blonde pubic hair glittered like secret treasure in the shadow of her thighs while she busied herself filling the pipe. With effort he dragged his sight from the flushed pearl of her clitoris.

As she sprinkled pipeweed into the bowl a smile played on her full lips. "Buy me, Master."

His severe expression melted and he chuckled, smiling despite himself. "No."

The girl shrugged, causing her heavy breasts to bounce beneath her nearly unlaced blouse. She lit her pipe with a sulphurhead before handing it to him, smoking bowl first. "Please."

He took the pipe, again shaking his head no.

###

An hour later, Soren made a great production of frowning as he thought over Civilicus' proposal to buy out Ciara's contract of bonded servitude. Fi-nally, he shook his head, his dark greasy hair swaying over the shoulders of his soiled flannel jerkin. 

"Sorry, no. Good help is rare up here, so far north as we are. It only goes to figure that as trained tavern girl is worth more than a few coopers, Traveler. And from the looks of you, I don't hazard you have much more than that. Besides, she's my daughter to boot. I couldn't stand being parted from her."

"Step-daughter, I'm told," he corrected the innkeep. 

Civilicus decided that he didn't like Soren. The man was an obvious con-niver. And Civilicus had noticed the searching, calculating way Soren had of looking at him and his possessions. Everything about the man said he could not be trusted. Also, his breath smelled of wine and onions. 

"In any case, I'll buy the girl's contract in silver. If that'll ease your fatherly concern."

"Silver?" The innkeep's rheumy eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger as he looked toward Ciara, who stood off among the chairs at the far end of the long table pretending to absorbed in the task of wiping down the wood. 

Soren wanted to go and slap the girl for not telling him about the sil-ver. He wondered if she hadn't found it or if she had outright lied. But he was very aware of the long iron knife the big stranger wore in his belt. Obviously the man wished the slut, no doubt charmed by the no doubt persuasive lips be-tween her legs. Earlier, he'd heard them rutting. How could he'd not? The girl's shameful lusty grunts and cries had been heard clearly through the up-stairs hall. Soren inwardly fumed that the whore so willingly gave herself to this outlander when she'd threatened to poison him if he ever tried to touch her again, her own dear father and protector, after an incidence of innocent flirtation. 

The stranger might take umbrage to seeing the girl mishandled.

While inclined to deny the sell, just out of spite, still the world was full of sluts but silver was another matter.

"Bring me wine," he growled at Ciara. She hurried to obey. He then in-vited Civilicus to sit with him close to the fire. 

Soren cast a calculating eye toward Civilicus. "Silver, eh? Well, I couldn't let her go for less than two pieces."

A silver piece was exactly that, one-forth piece of a silver coin. Two pieces of silver was fairly steep for a simple serving-wench. Even half that amount was considered dear.

Civilicus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I'll give you one silver piece, for the girl and a week's traveling rations for us both. And a pack animal."

The innkeeper burst out laughing in honest amusement. And the haggling began in earnest. 

# # #

Ciara stood atop a hard packed snow bank and screamed with unbri-dled joy.

She wore a fur cloak and cowl like Civilicus' own and rawhide trousers tucked into furred boots. She jumped and frolicked through the snowdrifts, laughing with the exuberant total lack of restraint of a child.

"Free," she screamed, then threw back her head and laughed. Her furred cowl fell back over her shoulders and the wind immediately began to blow her hair out over the cloak as she keened out in exhilaration. 

In the face of such deeply felt merriment, Civilicus couldn't help but smile.

The day was cold. The snow was an unending white blanket over the world. It whirled in the currents of the wind. The land was white but the Sky was a hard-edged blue and the light of winter's Sun shone down bright. 

"Free of Soren, may he die of cockrot. Free of that miserable tavern." 

And then she peeled off into another gale of laughter, her voice loud and musical in the crisp air. The shaggy pony which Civilicus had bought to carry their baggage whinnied in response. They'd been walking for a few hours. Both, for their separate reasons, had wanted to get a good many miles away from Soren's Inn before they stopped for a rest. She turned her clear blue eyes to Civilicus. And smiled. "My liberator and new Master. Make love to me. Please."

"What, in the cold?" He chuckled, liking her high color and spirit, glad he had decided to bring her along. "Out here in the snow?"

"Yes," she laughed. "In the snow, against a tree. I don't care. But I want to celebrate. To show my heartfelt gratitude."

Her flashing eyes narrowed as she looked at Civilicus, seeing his dark face framed by the variegated gray fur hood in contrast to the surrounding white snow. She ran to him, throwing her arms about his neck and mashing her lips to his, letting him suck her tongue deep into his mouth. Knocking him backwards into the thick layer of snow covering the ground. It seemed that their joined mouths smoked as they kissed, the vapor of their breaths white in the chilled air, their exhalations jetting steam through their nostrils.

###

Their trousers and underclothes were pulled down around their ankles, as Civilicus positioned himself between the girl's open thighs. Her pussy steamed in the frost, the nub of her erect clit peeking above the mist cloud between her spread legs. Indeed, it seemed as if both their bodies were wrapped in fog as Civilicus' thrust in Ciara with his fat and long cock, ramming her willing and wiggling form deep into the furs. Steam continued to rise from their bodies in bellows as they made love on the cloaks spread out over the snow. Surrounded in a mist of vapor and working up a sweat, Civilicus' dark body pumped down against the wench, the biting cold held at bay by their combined body heat. The warmed snow slowly melting beneath them. Ciara screamed again, this time in primal lust, as the first wave of her orgasm shuddered through her, her whim-pering cry echoing down the empty valley and through the evergreens.

Civilicus roared in response to her quivering walls, gripping him vio-lently. He slammed down forcefully into her, pulled out, and rammed once more to her depths. Ciara's entire body began to shudder as one climax shattered into the next, chain-reacting, making her helpless in her continuous rolling orgasm.

With steaming jetting through both his flared nostrils, Civilicus growled as the cum in his balls kept up an insistent pressure, harder to overcome with each succeeding powerful stroke. Finally, gritting his teeth and grimacing, he slammed his pelvic hard down against her obscenely stretched puffy pussy lips and speared her to the core, the mammoth cockhead smacking her backwall. His heavy and darkly wrinkled sac rose close to his body and his mammoth cock began to expand. He shouted, setting off an echo in the valley.

His hard hips squeezed tight and he hosed an explosive ejaculation into the whining, bucking girl. The flood of scalding seed spattered into her shiv-ering cunt and once more Ciara went off on a seemingly endless chain of or-gasms. Civilicus shot several scorching, sticky loads into her before he stopped pumping and hung above her on his stiff outstretched arms. He grunted as he eased his weight down over her, pulling the cloaks about them. His cock still hard as her clenching cunt continued to milk and grip his wide shaft.

Ciara tossed her pretty head and moaned a contented thank you, wrapped in the thick fur cloaks, Civilicus sweaty and hot body slick against her own over-heated skin. "Nice."

"Yes," he agreed, his lips nuzzling her ear. "But we have to get moving. I want to find a secure place to camp before we lose the light."

She nodded and graced him with another deep, soulful kiss. "Thank you for rescuing me."

Civilicus gave her a rare open grin, his face showing his inner-pleasure. He smacked her ass under the cloak. "You're welcome."

###

The ambush came in the dead of the night. Although the Sky's stars were hidden behind a thin veil of overcast, the light of the waning gibbous moon re-mained strong enough to diffuse through the cloud cover and reflect silver against the white snow, casting deep inky shadows under the trees.

There was the sudden flare of torches being lit and shouting men rushed in from all sides into the small campsite and to the bedrolls of Civilicus and Ciara. Ropes were looped around the blanket of the serving girl, to restrain her, while the ambushers stabbed down with swords and pitchfork into Civilicus' larger, more bulkier bedroll. In all the excitement, it took the robbers and would-be murderers a few moments to realize that all they had attacked were empty bedrolls.

Civilicus, from the safety of a high branch, had listened as the pack of men had stalked up to his campsite. He and Ciara had perched in a sheltering crooked branch of a huge tree which overhung the clearing, after Civilicus had arranged the bedrolls and a campfire as lure. Long before they'd lit the torches he had known of the presence of the gang of murderers. His dark eyes watched as the robbers lit their torches and stormed in to grab and stab at the stuffed bedrolls. The Southerner was smiling but it was not a pleasant thing to see. The expression was wolfish, the smile of a predator who'd outfoxed his hunters.

He reached out and gave the heavy branch next to their bough a vicious whack with his hatchet. He'd already sawed through most of the winter-naked limb and the single blow was enough to severe it from the mother tree. The heavy branch fell across the four men who had attacked his bedroll, effectively trapping them. With the sharp hatchet in one hand and knife between his teeth, Civilicus fell through space and dropped down onto the snowy ground.

Grabbing the knife from his mouth, he faced the startled men in the wildly dancing light of the torches and campfire. With surprise on his side, Civilicus held the advantage, he pressed it and attacked. Two men were dead from his hatchet before their companions knew enough to try and defend them-selves. But the men were used to attack from ambush. They were not trained fighters, as was Civilicus. With the hatchet securely buried in one of the corpses' skull, he brought up his knife. His opponent began to stab wildly at him. Civilicus dodged the panicked strokes. Although he did suffer a cut from a lucky blow, he quickly penetrated the heart of the man with his knife. He then drew his sword and sliced deeply into the other man's neck. Both fell with a thump into the snow.

Then Civilicus turned to face Soren and his predatory grin resurfaced. "Prepare to die, Innkeep."

"No!" Ciara screeched down from the branch on which she clung. "Don't kill him, please Master."

"Why shouldn't I?" Civilicus growled, slowly circling the terrified inn-keep.

"For my sisters' sake. Without Soren the inn would fail and they would be at the mercy of the Fates. Please, Master Civilicus, for my sake. Take pity. Spare him. Please."

The sword trembled in Civilicus fist. The killing rage was on him and it was difficult to resist it. For several long seconds Soren stood within range of the man's sword stroke, his eyes bulging with absolute fear and his panta-loons soaked with his urine, as Civilicus fought to bring himself under con-trol. Finally, he dropped his arm with a snarl of frustration.

"You live, thief. Thank your step-daughter's mercy for your miserable life. But, if we ever meet again, I'll kill you. I swear that."

He let go of Soren's cloak. With a vastly relieved sigh, the innkeeper turned on his heels and stumbled off into the woods. There was the sound of twigs snapping as Soren ran blindly through the low hanging branches.

Ciara carefully climbed down from the tree. She saw he'd been cut across his face, close to his right ear.

"You're hurt. Come closer to the fire and I'll staunch it."

Civilicus nodded. They both sat close to the firelight. Blood, black as coal oil splattered the snow around them. She took a small bag of herbs from her backpack, choosing a piece of dry herbage and pressing it to his cut. 

"How were you so sure they'd come for us?"

"You said it yourself," he growled around the pain. "Soren is a greedy, cowardly highwayman. I knew he couldn't resist the temptations of my purse once he knew I had silver on me. And he let you go too easily. What did it really matter to him what bargain we finally struck. He meant to have it all. And my life. Or capture and sell me into slavery."

Civilicus grinned. "But Soren is also a fool. A bumbler. Lucky for us."

She staunched the blood flow then applied bandages.

He growled in pain, his eyes narrowed and dangerous. "So far, you've been more trouble than you're worth."

Ciara could only shrug as she continued to dress his wound.

###

On the thirty-fifth day of their journey they surmounted a hill and looked down into a valley green with grass and gaudy with splashes of wild-flower color. The air smelled of green and sweet pollen. There was birdsong. Off to the east there was the chuckle of swift-running river water. But all of that was momentarily lost on Ciara. She had eyes only for the great lake spread out before them.

The water was vast, the far shore lost in the distance. She could see little islands dotting the surface of the great lake.

"Ye gods."

Civilicus nodded. "Lake Dark Starwater. Home of the Oracle of the Lake. Tonight we'll camp on her shores and you'll see where the lake's name comes from. And we'll have fish for supper." He turned to his awestruck companion. "And if there's anything the men in my family can cook, it's fish."



Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 03



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."

"Wait."

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. 



Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 04



The roar of the falls filled the early morning air with the continuous deep growl of an angry ogre. 

Civilicus had to shout as he and Ciara leaned out to look over the edge of the steep cliff. Far below they saw the dark maw of a giant natural cave with the broad and shimmering long waterfall which fell from it.

"This is the place where Lake Dark Starwater drains and creates the head-waters of the mighty Somali River. I'm told the cave is called the Mother's Womb and the falls the Waters of the Mother. Scholars say the falls is the longest in this part of the world. I've heard that mystics of a goddess cult come here to meditate on the falls and to commune with the Mother."

Ciara nodded. She didn't doubt it. She noticed that a rainbow had formed in the white mist which obscured the foot of the long falls. The natural beauty of the place was stunning, conducive to otherworldly thoughts. If a bit noisy. 

When she began to grow dizzy, Ciara stepped away from the edge. She pulled her blonde hair out of her face, from where the wind had blown it, and glanced up, seeing a flock of bluebirds fly overhead. She thought that it was so nice, romantic, being there with Civilicus in such a pretty place. 

The strain that had been on his face during the entire stay at the lake was gone. He smiled more. And Ciara herself was more and more at ease the far-ther they traveled away from Dark Starwater. Her intuition was sharp enough to tell her two things, that Civilicus had suffered through some powerful experi-ence back there and that she didn't really want to know exactly what it'd been. Whatever it was, it had shaken him to his core, that much was plain.

"The river's formed a deep canyon through the rainforest and for hundreds of miles to the coast," Civilicus continued to explain in a yell. "We'll follow it on the east bank until we're close to Kraal."

Kraal, she thought and frowned. Journey's end. 

But Ciara flatly refused to think about that. She let her smile come back to her face and leaned up to kiss Civilicus on the cheek.

"How about some breakfast now?"

"Aye," he grinned back. 

Her taper-fingered hand glided down his chest, past his waist until it brushed his crotch. "I know just the thing I'm hungry for." And she giggled as she stood on tip-toes to hungrily kiss him.

#

It was raining a few weeks later when they crossed over the Somali River. They walked over an ancient and narrow rope-bridge, which smelled of rot and swayed much too wildly for Ciara's taste, then abruptly stepped out of the jun-gle onto a wide stone-paved road. 

"It runs as straight and true as a seamstress' hem," Ciara said, amazed that such a road could exist.

Civilicus said, "It leads directly to the capital city, the famed Kraal by the Sea. In a few days we'll be there."

There, Ciara thought. 

She darted a covert glance at Civilicus, while wiping rain from her eyes, and saw his usual guarded expression. He was the hardest man to read that she had ever known.

"We've crossed over the northern border of the kingdom of K'ush and are now subject to the law of M'fumi the Great."

"K'ush," Ciara breathed. "The land of eternal summer. Among my people this kingdom is considered a legend."

Civilicus smiled. "Then it won't surprise you that here your frozen North is thought to be little more than myth. There are some rainforest tribes who believe the far north is where the spirits of the unworthy go in their after-life."

"Considering some of the people I know there, that belief might not be too far from wrong."

Civilicus laughed along with her, both thinking of her villainous step-father, Soren.

"Well, the road grows no shorter with us just standing here," he said. Shrugging his pack into a more comfortable position on his back, Civilicus be-gan to move off down the wide road through the gray drizzle.

He wore only a pair of sturdy sandals and a lengthy red sarong which fell to mid-shin. The silver-chained whale ivory amulet was on his exposed chest and his sword was slung across his back. His body daily thus exposed, Civilicus had grown darker as they had approached the equator. The same was true of Ciara herself. Her once pale face was now well-tanned. Her blonde hair was tucked into a colorful scarf wrapped about her hair, after the fashion of the women of the river-folk. Her once soft and supple body now definitely curved by travel-developed muscle. She also wore well-crafted sandals and a sarong, except that hers was a brightly-striped wrap-around cotton skirt which fit snugly about her firm hips. She wore a long bush-knife, which served as her sword, in her knot-ted hemp belt. A pack was also strapped to her back, and because she was other-wise topless, her breasts were bare. 

The two of them looked every inch the long-distance travelers that they happened to be.

They carried their supplies in their packs because a few months back they'd traded their sturdy little pony to a river-tribe in exchange for the sa-rongs and other supplies they would need to complete their journey safely and comfortably through the rainforest. Ciara had found life beneath the all-encompassing canopy disconcerting, but somewhat magical at the same time. Ex-cept at the river's edge, their were no openings in the roof of the primordial jungle. Fern-trees laced the blue Sky green with their unfurled fronds. Shorter tropical-trees sent out their own branches, arrowhead leaves, and fronds. The rich, earthy smell of growing and decaying vegetable matter made Ciara think that must have been what all the world had smelled like when it was new.

While under the canopy they'd wanted for nothing, fruit trees were in abundance and they had been very lucky at catching fish in the river and game birds among the underbrush. Civilicus had a way with the River People and they were allowed to travel across the natives lands without being molested.

Finally, they had reached the uncertain rope bridge and were once more in the land of open Sky. Ciara sighed, the transition making her a little sad. She'd felt somehow sheltered and safe under the trees.

They topped a rise in the road and in the middle-distance there was a rough-hewn log-walled fort. Within a quarter-hour they entered the garrison town and walked through its open wooden gate. Ciara's blue eyes were wide as she avidly looked around the place, walking from market stall to stall, openly gawking at the people and things she saw, the picture of the original country bumpkin. Although only a small-sized hamlet by K'ushite standards, it was still the largest settlement she'd ever been in.

And the people were as colorful as the tropical-blend fabrics they wore, purple-black, brown, red-skinned and yellow-bronze, with eyes of onyx, hazel, green-jade, blue and violet. But most were dark brown hued with dark brown or black eyes. The farther south they'd come the darker had become the people, un-til it was she herself who became the strange colored, the exotic. And yet, even Ciara's inexperienced eyes could see that these deep brown people of the equator were not Civilicus folk. His skin had a readily apparent red undertone, instead of the rich mahogany of the native people of this land.

She turned to her companion, to comment upon the cosmopolitan mix of the fort-town, and saw his attention concentrated on a structure with a round roof, thin gray smoke drifted up out of its narrow chimney. Civilicus' expression opened into a rare smile.

"A bath house," he said.

"A which-what?"

He turned to her and began to explain the K'ushite custom of public bath houses.

Across the square, a foot-soldier of the King's guard scowled the instant he saw the barbarian girl. His hostile gaze took in the long bush knife sheathed in her twisted-hemp belt. His fingers traced the hillocky scar which ran down the side of his face. The result of a disagreement with a blade-wielding outlander bitch in his younger years. He didn't like barbarians and he didn't like to see a weapon on the hip of a woman.

Unaware of the rage her presence had generated, Ciara and Civilicus eye-shopped the small stalls of the garrison. They wouldn't actually buy anything until after visiting the bath house and they were ready to leave.

"What sort of alien slut walks about with a sword, pretending to be a man?"

Ciara swung at the sound of the voice, her hand going to the hilt of her weapon, taking the measure of the man who had insulted her. 

It wasn't the first time during their journey that Ciara had drawn un-wanted attention. Some people just didn't like strangers. Most times it was Civilicus who offended someone's sight, being the bigger target. Nearly all were blowhards however. The few that had tried to harm them were taken care of by Civilicus, except for one who Ciara had neatly outfought and severely in-jured. 

She had a couple of things going for her, her daily practice sessions with Civilicus which made her confident in her ability to defend herself and the fact that she was in the best shape of her life. 

Had the half-drunk warrior paid more attention to the pull of her muscles beneath her skin rather than being enraged by her carrying a weapon he might have thought better of antagonizing the woman. But he was not a discerning man. He was merely a brute.

Ciara stepped away from Civilicus, seeking clear space and drew her sword. "I don't know you. You don't know me. We have no quarrel. But I do de-mand an apology."

"I'd sooner eat shit straight from an oxen's ass before begging the par-don of a barbarian bitch." The warrior laughed derisively and drew his own sword. 

Civilicus stood still, not interfering as he watched, intent, ready to react at a moment's notice lest Ciara make a mistake and gave her opponent an opening. With the newfound second-sight the Oracle had given him, Civilicus was pretty sure that the woman would not be killed in the fort. 

He had seen her as an old woman, white-haired and wrinkled, dying in bed surrounded by many mourners. But, even given that the vision was an accurate one, that didn't bar the possibility that she would suffer a crippling wound. Such was the uncertainty of the goddess' gift, he could sometimes glimpse or sense future occurrences but only in broad outlines most of the time. Details were usually sorely lacking. Civilicus considered the unasked for sight as much a curse as a gift.

If such is the truck of the gods then they're welcome to it, he thought. 

His dark-eyed gaze carefully following the opponents as they began to circle one another. Ciara, despite her obvious nervousness, was cat-smooth as she moved. He noted with approval that she held her sword out before her with her body in a narrow profile behind it. The foot-soldier grinned, waving his long sword at Ciara's face, hoping to distract her. But it was she who struck first, suddenly stabbing, drawing blood from the warrior's shoulder before nim-bly skipping out of reach.

The warrior yelled a curse, spittle flying from his lips in his anger when he felt the deep sting and saw his red blood sheeting thinly down his sliced shoulder. 

"You poxy whore! I'll gut you for that."

Ciara didn't respond, merely kept circling, as Civilicus as taught her. Drizzle dashed into her eyes from time to time but she knew better than to wipe it away, instead she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. She was grinning but she didn't know it.

As the seconds passed, the warrior's breathing became harsh, he slowed, favoring his wounded shoulder. The three pints of mead he'd drank and the loss of blood beginning to tell. 

Once more Ciara's flicked out, ripping his short sarong and slicing into his thigh. He howled in the fresh pain and in the woman's narrowed blue eyes he saw no mercy. 

"Do you yield," Ciara panted, putting every once of contempt within her into the question. Daring him to accept the offer of quarter.

The soldier swallowed but his throat and mouth were dry. There was a clicking sound in his throat. His eyes were afraid. But the fight had gathered a crowd, members of his cohort looked on. He couldn't back down in front of his fellow troopers. "No," he rasped. "I'd rather die first."

"Then that," Ciara growled, "is the way it shall be."

She attacked again, the long knife flashing in the light rain, scoring a series of shallow cuts across the man's chest arms. Finally, the pain in his thigh tripped him into the mud. She stood over him, magnificent in her anger and raised the bush-knife in a two-handed grip over her head, preparing to de-liver the deathblow.

"Hold!" A voice roared from across the square. All eyes but Ciara's turned in the direction of the shout. It'd come from the commandant of the fort, Captain Swazi.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He roared, running up to Ci-ara.

"She thinks she's defending herself." Civilicus told the captain, step-ping forward. "From an unprovoked attack."

"No dueling within the king's fort," the captain growled, scowling at the big man and the woman with the blade. 

"You should tell that to your infantryman. He started it."

"I won't have a melee here," the Swazi said, ignoring Civilicus words. "Put down the sword, I said. Or you're both under arrest."

Civilicus frowned. Ciara's arms, although they trembled, did not relax, she stared down at her opponent. 

"Tell your man to yield first," Civilicus said.

The captain's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you hear me, woman? Put down the weapon." He turned to his aide who had followed after him like a lovesick puppy. "Go get the surgeon to attend to this man."

Civilicus nodded to Ciara. "Sheath the knife," he told her.

Slowly, she backed away before putting away the blade.

"Disturbing the peace is a finable offense. Although I doubt the pair of you share a copper between you." He sneered into Civilicus' face.

"We're on the King's business," the big man growled back.

The officer gave a scoffing laugh that such an outlandish pair could have anything to do with the Royal Court. "You? A kingsman? I don't think so."

Civilicus grinned and smoothly pulled his sword from its sheath before the captain could begin to react. The king's purple enameled seal at the crux of his sword-hilt was plain for all to see.

The commandant, a veteran of military politics, wasn't intimidated by the King's seal. He knew that ninety-nine times out of a hundred a kingsman was merely a courier, a lackey letter-carrier. The rest of them, more times than not, were domestic spies. Couriers were safe to ignore and the captain wasn't afraid of what a spy might report of his activities. He ran a tight fort and everyone knew it. 

"Kingsman or no, it'd be best for the pair of you to be on you way."

Civilicus grunted a short laugh. "Perhaps you're right. See that we're given swift horses and a day's ration each. We'll need them after our bath."

The officer scowled. "I'll be poxed before I hand over horses from this fort's stables to a couple of barbarians."

"I may be a barbarian but unless things have changed drastically since I was last in the Kingdom of K'ush, an admiral still outranks a captain." He lost his smile. "I am Civilicus."

The captain's eyes grew wide. "Civilicus? The merman?" Then the man caught himself and snapped to attention. "I mean, to say, sir, that I didn't recognize you. Admiral. Sir."

Civilicus kept scowling at the man for five heartbeats or so before he responded. "Aye. My companion and myself intend to indulge in your fort's no doubt inadequate bath house. Afterwards, I expect the horses saddled and ready for our departure."

"Yes sir."

"And their saddlebags stocked with rations."

"Aye sir."

"Oh, and send a tailor to me." 

"Aye sir."

"You're dismissed."

"Aye sir." The captain turned on his heels and left the market square as quickly as his tattered dignity would allow.

# # #

Ciara sighed.

She rested her head back against a towel folded over the edge of the tiled bathing pool. She looked up at a mural painted on the ceiling of a rather well-endowed winged horse mating with a silver-horned unicorn. Steam rose in a wispy layer from the otherwise clear water of the bathing pool. Her blue eyes were half-closed as she looked at Civilicus, who also lounged in the steamy wa-ter. His head leaned back into the lap of a nude female bath attendant, who sat on the bath's tiled edge and expertly cut his black hair, putting the clippings into a copper bowl beside her naked hip.

A large ornate brass hookah had been placed near the bathing pool close to them. Ciara held the tube and wooden mouth-piece lazily in one hand, peri-odically taking a deep draw of the smoldering pipeweed. The water pipe's cham-ber had been filled with cold water before being brought into the bath and the smoke was icy as it filled her lungs. She exhaled slowly, the aroma of the pipeweed mixing with the perfume of the scented wood burning in baths tiny bra-ziers. The bathhouse air was thick, sultry. Many-colored petals of exotic flow-ers were scattered and floated atop the steamy water. Ciara thought it the height of decadence.

"Why did that soldier call you merman? What does it mean?"

"Merman is a term from local tales of fancy. It refers to a fabled people who live under the sea. Since I'm of the Sea People many in K'ush considered me one of the mermen of legend."

"Oh. And what does admiral mean?"

"Admiral is a military title. It means the leader of men and ships at sea. For a time I was the commander of King M'fumi's navy. A sea army."

"Ah." 

Ciara took another pull at the hookah and waited. Experience had taught her that Civilicus would either explain further or he would not, notwithstand-ing prompting on her part.

He reached out, took the mouthpiece from her and puffed of the pipe, happy she'd survived the fight without a scratch. "The K'ushites are not great sailors. I betray no secret in revealing this to you. They're coast-huggers, cautious of venturing too far out into the open sea. I am not. I was able to help the king conquer some of his enemies by leading K'ushite ships out to sea, far from land, and bring them to the enemy's coast undetected. Appearing out of nowhere, so to speak."

Civilicus shrugged, prompting his haircutter to gently turn his head slightly back to the left. "Among my folk, being able to sail the sea and to steer by the stars is something we learn in childhood. We consider it second-nature and nothing to comment on. Here, it made my fortune."

The tailor Civilicus had requested entered the chamber, bowing. "You sent for me, great sir?"

"Aye," Civilicus said, turning his head toward the man. The barber tempo-rarily took her scissors from his hair. "I'll be needing a new sarong. Red, with a thin purple border along the outer hem." 

He'd hoped to reach M'fumi's court incognito but now that his presence had been revealed, wearing the purple stripe of a kingsman would keep any fur-ther trouble at bay.

"Very well, sir."

Civilicus dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. Soon after, the bar-ber finished her business and bowed before leaving the chamber with her bowl of hair.

"You fought well today."

Ciara smiled at his acknowledgement of her growing skills. Her nerves till sang from an undercurrent of excitement because of the life and death struggle. "I know."

Civilicus grunted, then said, "There is something I must tell you."

Ciara, in her mellow mood, raised an unconcerned eyebrow. "Such as?"

"When I was a boy, a sacred statue, a godhead of my people was stolen from our most holy temple. An unspeakably blasphemous crime. Unprecedented in anyone's memory. 

"Without going into too much of an explanation, the god's safety was my family's responsibility. It was up to my clan to retrieve it. My father couldn't search for it, being the head of the family he had to watch over our lands. The task fell to my oldest brother. After he'd left the islands and hadn't returned for five years my second-oldest brother went in search of the godhead. After five more years it was my turn. Again, without going into tedi-ous detail, I was successful where my brothers were not. When you searched my belongings back at Soren's Inn you must've seen and touched the wrapped image."




Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 04



Ciara glance darted to the Civilicus' pack which leaned against a wall, as always within easy reach. She nodded, not risking speech, lest her words halt Civilicus' unexpected narrative.

"Return of the godhead to my people, to the temple is the reason I have to go home."

One night, while still in the rainforest, Civilicus had awoken from a vi-sion of his father felled in battle. A great wound jagged and red zippered open across his belly. 

"There are other reasons I must go back but returning the god to its resting place is paramount."

She nodded. "I can understand that."

Civilicus looked directly into her eyes. "During our journey together I've grown fond of you, girl. I would have you come back with me."

Ciara took in a sharp breath. Her eyes lost their dreamy look and her smooth brow knitted together. "What?"

"I'd have you remain by my side, if you wish it."

She smiled. But it was a sad expression. "Do you remember when you told me that all of Lake Dark Starwater is but a drop in the sea?"

"Aye."

"Is that true?"

"Yes. It's true."

"Is there no way to reach your home by land? To walk there?"

It was Civilicus' turn to smile. "No girl. The sea, the kai as my people cal it, is the only highway possible."

"I'm afraid of the big water," she admitted with a shiver despite the heat of the water.

"I know. But there are measures that could be taken. You could stay below decks. There are potions which could dull your senses during the journey."

Ciara nodded, considering the possibility and the hope of remaining with the man she'd come to both respect and love.

"But nothing has to be decided now," Civilicus pointed out. "There's time yet. Preparing for my return, once we reach Kraal, will take some time. I bring up the subject because it's something to consider."

"Yes. Something to consider." She squeezed shut here eyes and tears ran down her damp cheeks. She sniffed, wiped her eyes then moved from her place and waded over to Civilicus and settled into his embrace. "Make love to me."

Gently, he placed his big hand under her chin and moved his lips to her mouth, tasting the salty residue of her spilled tears a moment before her tongue slid over his teeth. His hand left her chin, moving down her throat to her sun-kissed breasts, the nipples knotted and hard from the water and the ef-fects of the pipeweed. They were flushed a deep pink.

She dropped a hand into the water, fingers seeking and finding his stiff-ening cock where it lie across his thigh. Moaning into his mouth, Ciara began to slowly stroke his shaft, moving her comparatively small hand up and down, pulling back the foreskin and revealing the bulbous head. Her fingernails lightly scraped over the sensitive flared knob. He grunted, pinching one of her nipples in reaction, then rolled his large body atop hers.

Ciara spread her legs, sighing into the extended kiss, as she felt the snout of Civilicus' glans thump her swollen clit before it slid between the blossom of her nether lips. She cried out as he entered her, the big cock once more taking her with authority and they began to move together. The water in the pool undulated with their movements. The flower petals rode the gentle waves as Ciara small sharp cries echoed softly across the chamber. 

# # #

It was late afternoon and the skies had cleared as they rode along the broad spine of a ridge and passed one of the quarries which supplied the king-dom with granite. A small army of workers toiled to cleave away, shape, and transport the huge building stones which were the primary construction material of the great city of Kraal. The workers, both men and women, were primarily captives of war and criminals. Ciara was glad to leave the quarry and the sight of the miserable workers behind them as the King's Road lead into a grove of ironwood trees. An hour or so later they rode out from under the trees and looked down from a coastal hill at a long beach. Ciara sat transfixed in the saddle, so thoroughly stunned that her toes curled in her saddles. 

The ocean spread out before her, arching out to the horizon bounding the world in a great semi-circle. 

Its scale dwarfed anything Ciara had ever seen before. Mountains could be sunk in its tossing blue depths. Seabirds, gulls wheeling above the water in search of food, gave forth screeching cries. 

Terrified, Ciara turned her sight from the Deep, her complexion pale be-neath her tan. Her mouth had compressed into a tight, thin, and trembling line. For the sake of her dignity, Civilicus pretended not to notice.

They rode on.

# # #

The city's official name was Kraal by the Sea. Commonly, it was known simply as Kraal. 

The place was ancient in the extreme, built on the rubble of a still more ancient town, its name lost even in legend. The outer-wall protected the city in a high stone square. The wall stood as tall as ten men standing on each oth-ers shoulders and was wide enough at its top that the king could ride his four-horse chariot along its length.

"When I first came here, they were just removing the dirt ramp from the front wall," Civilicus said, looking with approval at the finished monumental stonework. "That was five years ago now."

"I'm beginning to think there's no where in this wide world that you ha-ven't been," Ciara said.

Civilicus smiled and looked across the space between their horses. "Oh, I'm sure there's a corner or two that's escaped my notice. Come, the city awaits."

#

"Civilicus, Lord High Admiral of the Ocean-Sea, comes once more into the court of M'fumi, King of K'ush and protector of the Outlands."

The deep voice of the court chamberlain died away within the royal great hall leaving a ringing silence in its wake. All eyes turned toward the big out-lander as he strode from the entryway up the long purple carpet to the high dais of the throne, where sat the king.

For a moment, Civilicus thought that M'fumi must have drank an elixir of youth. He appeared a good twenty to twenty-five years younger than when Civilicus had last seen the ruler two years in the past. Lean muscle graced his shoulders and long legs. His belly was plowed with highly defined abdominal muscles. His somewhat long but handsome face beardless. 

Then Civilicus realized that, of course, the man before him was M'fumi senior's son, M'fumi the Younger. Although the realization brought up a whole host of questions, Civilicus kept his surprise from his face and his expression blank. Reaching the bottom tier of the dais, he prostrated himself, pressing his nose into the rich nap of the luxurious carpet. And waited. After a few mo-ments the king spoke.

"Arise, Lord Admiral."

Civilicus stood, bowing his head. "Thank you, your Highness."

The young man, Civilicus rapidly calculating realized the king was barely nineteen years old, smiled at him. "I haven't forgotten the high esteem in which my father held you, Lord Civilicus. He called you friend. I would do the same."

"And I would be honored that you do so, Highness. Please pardon the im-pertinence, Sire, but how come you to sit in your father's chair?"

There was a current of murmuring in the hall and the smile vanished from the teenager's face. His expression changed into a deep sadness. "My father, M'fumi the Great, is dead."

Civilicus face went tight and his brow rippled into a frown. "Pardon, Highness, but how?"

"Betrayal, Admiral. Rank and vile. It happened in the year you left us. My father invited the five conquered and vassal kings of the bordering outlands to come hunt with him. He felt it a good way to engender their loyalty. All ac-cepted the invitation. But they had plotted together, forming a foul plan of revolt and involving several K'ushite generals of my father's staff. To keep a bitter tale short, they killed him during the last day of the hunt. My mother too. I alone escaped the assassin's knife, if barely."

Unconsciously, the young king rubbed a puffy scar which bubbled down his right forearm.

"The vassal kings and the traitor generals sought to divide the empire my father had struggled so long to form. But before M'fumi the Great's death was six month's old I had recaptured his throne and put the plotters to death."

"My sympathies, Highness. May the souls of all oath-breakers be eaten by crows until the end of Time."

"Aye," M'fumi the Younger agreed. "But, the living must eventually let the dead bury the dead. K'ush prospers yet and the people are happy. Thus, I'm happy. And your exploits are still honored when folk sit and tell tales of he-roes."

"M'fumi the Great was a hero, Sire. I was only fortunate to be of some minor aid."

The king laughed and smiled, looking young again. "Modesty, Civilicus? Humble is not how I remember you."

He smiled back at the youth. "A man grows with the years or becomes more foolish, Sire. I have no wish to contradict you, yet while many others may de-serve the title of hero, I do not."

"Ha!" M'fumi exclaimed. 

"You're the father of our modern navy. Because of your fearless ability to sail beyond sight of land and to steer the stars you and my father cleared our waters of pirates. The same tactic made it possible to land K'ushite troops hundreds of miles away, conquering distant tribes and doubling the Empire within three years, when it would've otherwise taken decades. If at all."

Civilicus offered no further resistance. It was true that he'd been uni-versally acclaimed for his part in the expansion. He'd become very popular. So popular, in fact, that when the King M'fumi had suggested that perhaps it was time he took up his quest again, Civilicus had quickly left the city. In state politics, it's never wise to rival the king in popularity.

"Your father deserves all the admiration. He was a great warrior. A wise man. Your mother an elephant woman."

M'fumi nodded. "Yes. But I've been remiss. Your quest took you from us. I hope your return signals success in that venture."

Civilicus nodded. "Aye, Majesty."

"Excellent." He stood and walked down the steps of the dais and slapped the Admiral's broad shoulder. "And with the quest done, I assume you're still intent on returning to your home across the sea."

"Yes, Sire. I've been away far too long."

"Yes. Nothing so well fits a man than his home. Well, your warehouses and goods remain as you left them, old friend. And your mansion awaits its master."

"Thank you, Sire."

"Tomorrow is the beginning of the celebrations of the new year, the Spring Festivals. You're invited to join us in the royal gardens. As my honored guest."

"It is I who am honored, Sire."

"Of course. I'm told you've brought a comely barbarian girl with you. Be sure to bring her along."

"Aye, Sire."

M'fumi laughed and gave him a wink. "By my oath, it's good to see you again. Your presence brings back memories and more carefree days."

# # #

Ciara paused with the silver goblet in her slender fingers and took a moment to look around the room, to really look. She saw the depth of the luxury accumulated there, from the intricately woven rugs on the expertly tiled mosaic floors, to the precious metal flatware and dishes. Every thing in the room spoke of richness.

"My village must've looked so squalid to your eyes," she said, looking across the low dining table at Civilicus where he sat on a nest of cushions.

"Not squalid, no," he said. "Most villages look like yours. This house, this city is the exception."

"Still. My inn must have seemed filthy to you."

He laughed and smiled. "Believe me, after surviving the blizzard, your inn seemed like paradise itself."

"You never cease to amaze me, Civilicus."

He smiled. "Nor you me. You're the talk of the city."

They'd been in Kraal nearly a week and already Ciara was a favorite at court. Her natural charm and charisma, not to mention her exotic beauty had won her the heart of the king and his courtiers. While Civilicus had spent his days buying and supplying a small squadron of ships, Ciara had been entertaining the K'ushites with tales of her homeland. The southerners had been fascinated by tales of snow-drifts and sleet and ice storms. 

"Your fortune here is assured." Then his expression grew sober. "There are serious matters we must discuss."

Ciara sipped her wine, a red fruity drink she'd grown to like in the week they'd been in Kraal. "I'm not in the mood for serious matters. The whole city is in celebration. You, are the lone spoil-sport. You didn't even make it to the gardens at all last night. The king noted your absence." She stuck out her tongue at him and wrinkled her nose.

He chuckled despite himself. "Perhaps. But time grows short and there are things you must know."

She sighed. "Such as?"

He picked up a leather pouch from a cushion beside him. "These are impor-tant papers, the deed to this house and property. Maps of the lands I've trav-eled and descriptions of the folk met along the way. Letters of assets and let-ters of borrowers who owe my estate. You'll also find some less than flattering information about some very important people who would do much to keep it from coming to light. Handle this information like deadly poison, to be used only in your most desperate hour, if it ever comes to that."

He gave her the pouch and Ciara looked at it with curious eyes. Then she scowled. "Why're you giving this to me?"

"As I said, time growth short. The winds needed to carry me home won't prevail much longer, a couple of weeks, maybe a month at most. But, as you say, while all the city has been in gaiety, I've been busy. The ships are nearly ready. One more night's preparation and all my affairs will be in order. If I wish, I can sail with the early morning tide."

Ciara's expressive eyes widened in something akin to panic, her hands gripped the pouch tightly. "The morning? But you said it would take months."

"I know. Nevertheless, I'm ready now."

"But King M'fumi expects us in the gardens tonight."

"Yes," Civilicus nodded. "It's not wise to disappoint a king, unless you're leaving his kingdom."

They sat looking at one another, each aware that they had reached a cru-cial turning point. After a long pause, Civilicus spoke again. "The offer I made to you in the fort's bath house stands. I've obtained the necessary po-tions and herbs to ease your travel."

Ciara lowered her eyes and once more saw the view of the sea from the cliff beyond the quarry. She shivered and spoke in a small voice. "It's not only that I'm afraid to be on the sea, Civilicus. I'm afraid of the sea. And even if I weren't, you told me your home is an island surrounded by the water. I would live in terror every moment of my life there."

He nodded, as if expecting such an answer, his features blank. Ciara had come to know that was the expression he adopted when he wished to hide his true feelings. "Can't you stay with me?"

"I wish I could, girl. I truly do."

And she believed him still she pressed. "Why can't you?"

"I've told you. I must return the god. My home is in chaos. The Oracle, the Goddess of the temple inflicted me with a second-sight. I get fragments and visions of what has happened there in my absence and clouded pictures of what might happen if I do not return. I have to go back."

And it was her turn to nod. "Yes." Tears ran down her cheeks, she cried without sobs.

He ignored the tears and pushed a folded parchment letter across the ta-ble. "This is for the king, explaining my absence."

She nodded her blonde head, avoiding his glance. For a moment Civilicus saw her again in the inn, in her long skirts and apron, her white feet bare. The pipe between her lips as she sat on the long hearth.

"I love you," he said, in the tone of a man confessing a great crime. "If you change your mind be at the harbor before first light."

Then he stood and left the room.

#

The drums beat loud in the moonless night accompanied by thrilling flute-pipes, enthusiastically played.

And the people danced with abandon. 

Before coming to Kraal, Ciara had never seen much less danced such dances before. But she'd learned during the first night of celebrations that the steps were no more than stylized sexual flirtation and exaggerated rutting movement and positions. While she might lack the cultural underpinnings which had devel-oped the wild ceremonial dances, she did know how to roll her hips, grind her pelvis, and thrust out her full breasts in a confident and arrogant display of sexual availability. 

Her head dizzy with the mingled fumes of pipeweed and fruit-wine, she leapt into the circle of firelight, joining the other women danced before the delighted eyes of the men of court, who hooted in delight and clapped in en-couragement. She closed her eyes and began to move as if under the strong body of a lover, remembering the first time Civilicus had taken her.

With her lighter skin and flowing golden hair, many could not help but follow the barbarian's gyrations, note the sensuous rotation and hump of her round ass under her short wrap-around dancing skirt. The admiring eyes that followed her around the fire included the young king himself. 

On the first night of the spring festivities he had felt himself lusting for the alien girl, wondering how it would feel to spear her with his manhood, to find his hands sunk into the pliant flesh of your appealing little heart-shaped bottom. However, she belonged to Civilicus and M'fumi did not believe in dallying with another man's woman. 

But things had now changed. 

The king had read the letter Ciara had given him before the celebrants had moved from the palace into the gardens. The contents had saddened him some-what. He genuinely liked the big merman, as had his father before him. And he was a decent enough man to feel obliged to Civilicus for his part in adding to the K'ushite kingdom. Now, the man was sailing away, before the Sun rose again, and apparently the girl was remaining behind. In his letter the admiral had asked the young king to look after her, a duty M'fumi found not odious in the least. His generous lips bunched the corners of his mouth as he felt his cock stir beneath his sarong, then he too leaped into the firelight.

There was an approving roar from the crowd and Ciara felt herself lifted, thrown over a hard muscled shoulder. She opened her eyes and found herself in the grasp of the King as they went crashing through the shrubbery, into the deep shadows of the royal gardens.

Ciara was pushed to a thick bed of ferns and she felt M'fumi's weight on her a moment later. His hand tugged, jerked up her short skirt, exposing her sex which she still maintained hairless. Away from the torches and firelight the king couldn't see her body, but he could feel her, smell her and her near-ness aroused him greatly.

M'fumi was big, not as wide as Civilicus, but longer. Ciara felt him force-thrust himself into her and she answered with a grinding of her sweaty hips, snarling as she felt herself endlessly filled to capacity. She just man-aged to stop herself from calling out Civilicus' name, as she felt a heavy balls sac slap her upturned as cheeks. She shuddered as the King's cock pulled nearly out of her then felt herself gush around his pole as he invaded her once more, his large lips kissing the side of her neck.

Ciara moaned, a part of her not wanting another man beside Civilicus to command her body into orgasm, but the weed and drink and dance and big cock conspired to make her body do what came naturally. Her throaty, moaning cry was lost in the bedlam of music and shouting, laughing voices of the celebrants. She squirmed and gyrated beneath the strong and youthful body of the king, mo-mentarily divorced from the great hurt of being parted from the man who had saved her from the monster Soren and seen her safely through the wilderness.




Lake Star Darkwater Ch. 04



#

Civilicus stood at the bow of his flagship, looking out to sea, his face expressionless. Without the light of the Moon he looked into darkness. But he could smell the sea, he could hear it, taste its salt on the air, and from life-long intimacy he could sense it as a physical thing. Beneath his saddles he felt the deck sway. The tide was going out.

He turned to the man who stood to his left and behind him. "Prepare to castoff, Captain. Alert the other ships."

"Aye, sir."

Within minutes the order had gone round the small squadron of ships. All stood in preparedness.

"Cast off," Civilicus ordered.

He didn't look back toward the torch lit wharf, hoping for a glimpse of Ciara. She wouldn't be there. With his newfound cursed foresight he had fore-seen that she would not. Mercifully, he'd been spared the shattering vision of her seeking forgetfulness, writhing beneath the king.

They left the harbor with the tide. The white sails of the ships were struck bronze with the dawn's new light as they tacked and moved off across the wine-dark sea toward the west.

And the two lovers were parted forever after.

-end-