The True Oracle Ch. 01

Gavin cocked his head in interest. "So you really can read the future?"

Adastriana nodded. "The future, the past . . . but the future is fluid; what we divine is usually only the most likely outcome. But too many do not understand that. We are not perfect."

He gave her a cocky smirk. "So divine me something," he challenged.

The woman frowned. "Now?"

"Yes, now," Gavin said. "I have saved your life. Is that not worth a divination?"

She looked about, plainly ill at ease. "This is not what I would call the best of circumstances," she said.

He looked upon her, expectant.

She met Gavin's gaze, reading the challenge in his eyes. "Alright," she said at last, shifting beneath the voluminous cloak. She pushed herself to her feet, then reached up and undid the clasp. The heavy fabric fell to the ground. Her eyes remained on Gavin's. "But remember that you asked for this."

The knight said nothing as he watched the beautiful woman before him reach to the red leather top that encased her breasts. A quick turn of a clasp, a shrug of her shoulders, and the brassier fell to the ground. Next she unfastened the skirt and let it slide down her thighs. Stepping free from the garment, she stood fully nude before his interested gaze.

Never had Gavin seen a woman of such sublime pale beauty. Aside from the intricate tattoos, not a mark or blemish adorned her skin that he could discern. Her skin was nearly as pale and shimmering as mercury. The woman's breasts hung suspended upon her chest as if invisibly supported. Her belly was taut and smooth, with a narrow navel that seemed to point downward to a neatly-trimmed triangle of dark hair just above smooth and silky labia.

Unabashedly, the zantrist lowered herself to her knees once more, but this time spread her legs far apart. She pushed her hips out, thrusting her sex toward the fire and leaned back upon her hands. Firm breasts, nipples darkening, thrust toward the dark sky above. With her head cast back, she muttered words Gavin could not hear.

He watched through the fluttering haze of the fire as the zantrist brought up a hand and settled it to her pubic mound. Fine-boned fingers wandered back and forth through soft dark hair, occasionally touching the thick pink shroud between the puffy labia. As the moments ticked by, she began touching herself in earnest.

Gavin found himself enraptured by the sight. He had never before been privy to watching a woman pleasure herself, and found the scene all at once fascinating and supremely arousing. The zantrist woman's fingers began massaging the enclosed button above her sex, delving down between bright pink lips as they flared out more and more.

As her self-pleasure mounted, she fell onto her back, still with her legs curled beneath, and spread her thighs widely apart. First one, then another finger plunged into the glistening depths of her sex. Gavin could hear the smacking wet sounds as the woman repeatedly and rapidly stabbed into her sex over and over.

Hoarse gasps and wanton sighs rose in pitch. While the one hand was busy jabbing away at her pussy, the other caressed blushing breasts and pinched stiffened nipples. The woman's entire body undulated as if a boat riding a tumultuous sea.

Then, finally, she gasped and cried out with release, her body shuddering, bucking, convulsing upon the ground. She buried the fingers within her pussy deep, pressing her palm against her clit.

Gavin's aroused gaze wandered over the woman's body as she slowly relaxed. He shifted upon his seat, finding the armor around his groin suddenly uncomfortable. But more than being aroused, he was curious.

With a heated sigh of satisfaction, the zantrist pushed herself up. Her face, neck and the tops of her breasts glowed with rouge. Her eyes were heavy, hair casting strands across her face. She slid the fingers from her pussy and brought them to her face. With a contented murmur, she sucked her own slick essence clean. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

"Gavin Reed," she said at last, her words strangely echoing, as if spoken by several similar voices at once.

"Yes?" he asked tentatively.

She continued, still with her eyes closed, speaking in between licks and sucks of her fingers. "Born to a dead mother, raised by a soldier father. You followed in his boots, and surpassed him. He has not spoken to you in four and more years. In your life, you have claimed one hundred and twenty-three lives and known nine lovers, none of whom you loved . . . and in two days' time you will die."

As she spoke, Gavin's expression changed from aroused interest to perturbed annoyance. The fire of fear was ignited in his heart with the final words she spoke. In a sudden move, he leapt across the fire to land beside her, and lifted her head.

"How do you know this?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

The woman's head lolled back and forth. Her eyes split open, revealing cloudy white orbs. "She is Adastriana, the next True Oracle," she said, the multitude of voices rising in pitch and clarity.

He took his hand away and stepped back, looking down upon the nude woman beneath him as if she ahd become something alien, something dangerous. A battery of chaotic thoughts assaulted him. He could not believe what he had just heard and witnessed, yet neither could he deny the truth of his own senses.

After pacing back and forth for several moments, Gavin looked upon the zantrist. She lay in a stupor, panting as if recovering from supreme exertion. The thought occurred to Gavin that he could end her life and bury the corpse within the grotto and be done with it. He could continue on with his quest alone, as had been intended.

Instead, he gathered the comatose woman in his arms and carried her to the shelter of his simplistic tent. He covered her in the cloak she had been wearing, and set the rest of her clothing nearby.

Troubled with his thoughts, he shook out another blanket and lay down beside the fire. He did not sleep much that night.

* * * *

Neither Gavin nor Adastriana spoke beyond the niceties of cleaning up the camp and getting underway. Gavin could feel a barrier between them - not that they'd had much of a rapport previously - that kept him from asking the zantrist about the evening before.

After over an hour of riding, however, the tension finally broke as Adastriana spurred her mount closer to his and spoke. "What was your divination?"

The sudden voice startled him, and Gavin had to struggle to comprehend what she said. He frowned upon her. "You do not remember?"

She laughed softly. "I never do," she informed him. "The gift of prophecy is sent to me. I am merely a medium."

Gavin read her face, but he could see no sign of deception. She was the same frightened woman from the previous day, though the fear was becoming lessened now. Gavin could only assume it was due to his presence.

"Well?"

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Nothing particularly impressive," he said.

Adastriana nodded slowly, unconvinced, but remained unwilling to push the point. "Ah." She shifted in the saddle, hitched up the reins. "So, where are we going?"

Gavin responded with obvious irritation in his voice. "You are going to Averine," he said pointedly. "As soon as we get through the Rift. I am leaving you there and continuing on my own."

The zantrist woman let her eyes drift ahead to the horizon, where a dark shadow lay hovering above the entrance of a deep rift in the ground. "There are only two cities this far west," she said. "Averine being the closest. So if you are continuing on, you must be headed to Neustis."

He shot her a dark look, said nothing.

"You are going to see the True Oracle, then?"

Gavin gritted his teeth. "It is no concern of yours, Adastriana," he said. "I am leaving you in Averine."

His horse plodded on for several moments before Gavin realized his unwanted companion had stopped. Pulling back on the reins, he turned in his saddle and looked back. The pale-skinned woman sat still, almost mannequin-like, staring back at him. Their eyes met, his dark and annoyed, hers wide and questioning.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

The creases in his brow darkened. "You told me," he said. "Last night."

Her eyes dipped. She fell quiet. The cloak billowed about her slender body, tugged by the dry wind of the desert. "I don't remember that," she muttered, her voice almost unheard.

Gavin huffed, perturbed. "You should cultivate your memory," he snapped, then slapped the reins of his steed. "Come, keep up."

* * * *

The Rift, as it's name implied, was a great, deep gouge in the land. The shadow of the scar upon the world was visible on the plain for hours before Gavin and his companion came to it. To north and south, the terrible gap stretched to the horizon. Where they approached, simple stone buildings stood at the edge of the chasm, with lifeless windows staring out. The bank of the other side was nearly half a mile away, eliciting hopelessness that it could ever be reached.

Gavin slid from the saddle and drew his pistol as they approached. "Be alert," he barked.

Adastriana looked about in consternation. "Shouldn't we go around?" she asked.

"No," said Gavin, leading his horse past the stone constructions. He stopped at the edge of the Rift, peering down. A yawning darkness stared back, promising only death. But even in the depths of such a monstrous chasm, there remained hope. A stony bridge had been built, some ages before, between the walls of the Rift. It lay more than five times the height of a man beneath the cliff's edge.

Gavin turned back to the zantrist, who looked fearful and anxious upon her horse. "Going around would take more than half a day," he said. "There's a bridge below that spans the chasm. We'll take that. But be wary."

Adastriana swallowed thickly, eyes quivering. "I've heard stories of the Rift," she said. "About the rift trolls."

Gavin nodded, leading his steed toward the largest of the buildings. A broad archway beckoned within, revealing a large metal platform set into the ground, with mechanical controls in the wall beside. "We'll have to watch out for them," he said. "It's been years since anyone has crossed the bridge, so perhaps the rift trolls are no longer around. But we shouldn't expect that."

The zantrist eased from the saddle and walked her mount into the building after Gavin. Following his lead, she made sure her horse was positioned upon the rusted metal platform. "And if they are?"

Gavin cast the woman a look. "Better arm yourself," he said. He reached to a conspicuous lever on the wall above the platform and jerked hard upon it. The metal platform shuddered, then groaned as it began to descend. The horses snorted and clipped their hooves in apprehension. Adastriana wavered on unsure feet.

Amid great moaning mechanical gears and the screams of protesting metal, the platform descended. The zantrist looked about in uncertainty as uneven stone walls scrolled by. Her eyes finally settled upon Gavin, who remained stoic in the corner of the elevator. His apparent calm gave her reason to quell her fears, if only a bit. Heeding his advice, she took from her horse one of the weapons she had salvaged from her caravan. It was blunt but impressive, and gave her a sense of confidence as she held it.

"Make sure it's loaded and ready to fire," Gavin remarked, having watched her.

Adastriana looked to the weapon in frustrated confusion. Seeing the look, Gavin rolled his eyes and snatched the shotgun from her grip, making the woman gasp.

"Have you never been trained to use a weapon?" he asked.

She stared back acidly. "Where I am from, there are always those trained to protect me."

Gavin grimaced, checking the weapon. Thankfully for his companion, she had taken one that would load itself after each shot. He clicked the small button beside the trigger that turned off the safety, then gave the woman a look as he handed it back.

"Do not," he said firmly. "Under any circumstance, point this at me. Hold it firmly with both hands, the stock against your side. You only have five rounds, so if you must, make them count."

Adastriana nodded as she took the weapon back. At that moment, the platform shuddered to a stop, making the zantrist gasp in startlement. Gavin lifted the gate. Beyond, a tunnel led to the bridge, which stretched like a long, stony arm from some bygone giant into the darkness. The bridge was wide enough for two horses to move side by side across its span.

"Gather the reins, but not too tightly," Gavin ordered. "We'll lead the mounts."

"Why not just ride across?" Adastriana asked.

He met her eyes. "Because if we're attacked, or they slip, better to lose just them and not ourselves."

She swallowed thickly. She grabbed a handful of the leather straps dangling from her horse's bit, then held them against the stock of the shotgun. She offered a look to the knight-gunman which she hoped conveyed her readiness.

"Stay beside me," he told her stepping forward. As he approached, then set foot upon, the bridge, he cast his gaze about. Up, down, left, right. Where he looked, he followed with the pistol in his right hand. Winds swirled within the Rift, tugging gently at their clothes as the two advanced across. Various haunting moans drifted around them, like the voices of ghosts.

"How did they build this?" Adastriana asked after several minutes had passed.

"Geomancers," Gavin responded. "According to legend, it took half a dozen of them a full seven days to grow this bridge."

Adastriana bulged her eyes, impressed by the information. "They . . . 'grew' it?" she asked.

Gavin nodded, casting a quick look back. "That's the legend," he said. He suddenly stopped, senses alert. A faint skittering noise reached his ears.

"That's amazing," Adastriana uttered, looking down at the broad path upon which they traveled. She tried not to think of the great chasm that waited below, like a hungry mouth eager to devour. "I've barely heard any tales of the geomancers-"

"Quiet."

Gavin's rough, commanding voice sent her into silence. She stopped walking, standing beside him. Her eyes gave silent, quivering questions to the knight-gunman.

The man himself stood still, training his senses. Through the wind, the faint echoing howls, the skittering noise persisted. It conjured to his mind images of giant beetles clamoring over rocks. With a sense of dread, he realized the sounds were coming from below.

From the underside of the stony bridge.

He cocked the hammer on his revolver. "They're beneath us," he said.

Adastriana trembled, eyes suddenly wide with fear. "'They?'" she asked.

Gavin nodded grimly. "Do as I say and don't hesitate," he told her. "Otherwise, you will die. Do you understand?"

She breathed heavily through her nostrils, heart palpitating. She looked about, furtive, darting snaps of her eyes. She could not see what Gavin had somehow detected, but neither did she doubt the man.

"Do you understand?" he repeated, more forcefully.

She bobbed her head. "Y-yes," she answered.

"Good. Now, run."

Adastriana's eyes widened. "What?"

"RUN!"

Gavin's uproarious cry filled the air, both startling and spurring the young woman. With a gasp, she charged forward, horse in tow, running full tilt across the bridge. Gavin watched her as she and her steed passed, but only for a split-second before his attention flipped to the bridge behind.

Hairy dark forms suddenly shot up from the darkness beneath the bridge, howling, cackling, sneering. They flashed yellowed fangs and dark claws, blazed amber eyes more feral than those of any wild animal. Gavin did not hesitate as they pounced upon the bridge, letting loose with his pistol.

Deafening roars shattered the air. Two of the rift trolls pitched back, their chests exploding with gore before they flew over the edge into the unforgiving deep. Even before they had vanished from view, Gavin was already sprinting to catch up with his companion, knowing that his well-trained horse would keep up.

"Don't stop!" he barked, firing his pistol again as another of the rift trolls emerged before them. The head of the monster shattered with a spray of ichor before the body toppled back.

Adastriana kept running, peripherally seeing the movements of shadows as she did so. Her heart hammered, driven by fear, fueling her limbs beyond their normal limits. All she wanted was to get across the bridge, to the implied promise of safety on the other side. But salvation seemed almost too far away, a tiny black maw at the end of an impossibly long and treacherous bridge. Still, she had no choice but to continue. She had not braved the dangers of the wastelands to become a meal for rift trolls.

I shall make it, she told herself. I must make it!

Gavin saw the clawed hand rising from beyond the edge of the bridge, but Adastriana's cloak billowed behind her, obscuring the taloned hand from view. In the next moment, the zantrist was crying out as she tumbled to the floor of the bridge, slapping her hands across jagged rock in an effort to keep from going over the edge. "Gavin!"

But as the knight-gunman charged to her rescue, several more rift trolls lept before him, sneering and snarling in premature triumph. Gavin's senses told him more had clamored up behind, between he and the horses. His attention, however, was upon Adastriana and the troll-like creature climbing up over the edge, pulling her to it. Her eyes burned with fear.

Gavin did not hesitate. The word was not one of which a knight-gunman was aware. Holstering his pistol, he hurled himself toward the closest pair of rift trolls, curling his hands around the far sides of their heads, pulling them down toward him and locking his arms about their necks. Using their bodies as crutches, he kicked with both feet, sending two more rift trolls sprawling upon the bridge.

Momentum carried him up, and he drew in his legs to somersault backward. He felt the satisfying cracks as the necks pinched in his arms snapped. Landing on his feet, he dropped the bodies to the ground and glanced back. He need not have bothered; the pair of trollish monsters had their hands full with Gavin's horse, which reared up, foremost hooves lashing out. The hairy little creatures would not last long, he knew.

Turning back, the two rift trolls he had kicked, along with a third, were now coming toward him. Gavin strode toward them with purpose, mindful of Adastriana's screams. But as a knight-gunman, he could not let her predicament impede his skill. He remained calm and focused.

The three trolls charged at once, seeking to bring the man down through numbers and savagery. But Gavin was a quick, well-trained warrior, more than capable of anticipating the clumsy attacks of near-mindless brutes. As the trio of rift trolls pounced, Gavin effected a practiced stance. He curled his fingers in, pressing hidden buttons in the palms of his gauntlets. Curved blades sprouted from either side of his wrists.

The rift trolls came to him, snarling, howling, anticipating a glorious kill. But as their claws raked across armor, Gavin moved with swift, slicing strikes, his blades ringing as they slashed through flesh and bone.

The creatures stumbled past him, wavering as blood poured from wounds across their necks and under their arms. Gavin ignored them, continuing on to Adastriana. Behind him, the rift trolls pitched to the ground, twitching in their final moments.

It took only a kick to send the obscene troll upon the woman screaming into the abyss below. Gavin knelt and helped Adastriana onto her knees. She clutched him desperately, as a child would a protective father.

"Th-they c-c-could have k-killed me," she stammered. "They c-c-could have killed me . . . ."