The True Oracle Ch. 02

"You there!" cried one of the men, jogging into the street. He was quickly joined by his fellows. "In the name of the Regent of Averine, you are commanded to stop and dismount!"

Gavin cursed under his breath and pulled back on the reins. Beside him, Adastriana also drew her mount to a halt. She gave him a furtive, apprehensive look.

He looked back. "When I drop my cloak, you ride for the gate and do not stop. Do not stop, do you understand?"

She swallowed thickly. "Why not break for it now?"

"Because I can handle being shot once or twice. Can you?"

She grimaced and remained silent. Her eyes darted toward the open gate, only a hundred yards or so away. She forced herself to nod curtly. "I am ready," she whispered in a shaking voice.

Keeping his cloak gathered around him, Gavin slipped from the saddle to the ground. He kept his back to the guardsmen as he took several steps back, glancing casually this way and that. Others were getting out of the way, staring wide-eyed at the developing situation.

Five guardsmen formed a semi-circle across the breadth of the street. They held their weapons in readiness. The center guardsman spoke again. "Remove the cloak, kneel upon the ground," he commanded. "If you make any other moves, you will be shot."

Gavin took a slow, calming breath. His senses were on high alert. He could pinpoint the position of the man who spoke from the origin of his voice, and from the curious gaze of the civilian onlookers, could reason where the others stood. Years of training and experience crafted a quick, tactical map in his mind.

He lifted a hand and undid the clasp of the cloak. The heavy garment slid from his shoulders.

In a whirlwind of motion, the knight-gunman spun about, snapping up the pistol from his belt. He fired swiftly and surely, the explosive reports of his pistol filling the air. One by one, the guardsmen were sent flying off their feet, fatal wounds burning through their chests. It happened so swiftly that the last of the five guardsmen was shot before the first fell to the ground.

Adastriana did not look as she spurred her mount, digging in as fiercely as she could with her heels and slapping the reins to either side. Leaving the violence behind, her focus for the moment was on reaching salvation through the Averine gate. She directed her horse around carriages and wagons, ignoring the alarmed looks she was given. As the gate neared, a pair of guardsmen looked up with consternation.

"Drop the gate! Drop the gate!" one of them yelled. The other darted for the guard shack beside the gaping entrance to the city.

No! Adastriana fumbled behind her in the bags she had hastily loaded with, among other things, weapons from the blacknail-slaughtered caravan. Her fingers found something with a pistol grip and she jerked it free. It was large and bulky and very unwieldy, but with as much determination and effort as she could muster, she aimed for the guardsman running to the shack and pulled the trigger.

The weapon bucked repeatedly in her hand. Nearly invisible flame spat from the barrel as bullet after bullet was sent in rapid succession toward the small wooden building and the man within. Wood splintered. Glass exploded. A cry erupted from within, but whether it was from fear or pain Adastriana did not know.

All she knew was that the gate remained opened, and a moment later, she was riding through as if chased by the demons of the Nine Hells themselves. The empty weapon fell from her grip to the muddy ground at the gate.

Once out upon the dusty wasteland, she kept riding until the rush of adrenaline subsided, allowing for the emergence of calmer, clearer thinking. When she finally thought to stop and turn about, she was a good half-mile from the walls of Averine.

A broad smile of elation lit up her face as she saw Gavin riding toward her, bent low over the undulating neck of his horse. He made it, she thought thankfully. But her joy faded as she observed the company of riders close behind her knight.

"Keep going!" Gavin roared.

With a frightful cry, Adastriana urged her steed around and spurred it once more into desperate flight.

* * * *

The guardsmen of Averine were not paid well enough to risk going too far into the wastelands; after a mere handful of minutes, they gave up the pursuit and let Gavin and Adastriana flee into the deadly wilderness. Still, Gavin insisted on riding the mounts hard for another quarter-hour, just to secure their distance. Once he was satisfied that no one continued the pursuit, he and his companion slid from the mounts to walk them for a while and conserve their energy.

"Something vexes me," Gavin said as they shared a casual meal of jerky and water. "It was obvious those guardsmen were looking for us both, not just me."

"Someone must have mentioned I am with you when we arrived in Averine," she suggested.

"I considered that," he said with a nod. "But I do not think that is the case. I've been going over the encounter with Corvo yesterday. He did not seem at all surprised you were there."

". . . as if he already knew I would be," Adastriana said after a moment's thought. She looked to Gavin worriedly. "He could not have known."

"Yet I believe he did," the knight said. "Given the circumstances, there is only one way I can think of, or rather, one person I can think of, that would have given him that information."

Adastriana inhaled deeply and let it out. "The Oracle."

Gavin nodded. "What do you know of the True Oracle?"

The zantrist woman was quiet for a few moment as they walked. "The True Oracle is the voice of the world," she said at last, as if reciting a childhood school lesson. "For ages, she has counseled kings and lords, peasants and warriors. Until the Blaze, anyone could be seen by her and receive her counsel, if they were of mind to accept her divination."

Adastriana continued: "The True Oracle is always a woman, and, according to tradition, is replaced every thirteen years as a new one is chosen by providence." She suddenly smiled wryly. "The . . . selection process is quite a ceremony, from what I hear."

"Oh?"

Adastriana chuckled. "You have seen how we zantrists divine the future."

Gavin managed a small smile of his own. "Yes, I have."

"Well, imagine that process with a hundred zantrists like myself, along with carefully-chosen male servants, all in one room. It is an orgy the likes of which every zantrist dreams. It goes on for days on end, with barely a break for feasting or sleeping. In the end, a single zantrist adept is chosen by the voice of the Gods, and it is she who is taken to Neustis to relieve the current True Oracle and take her place."

"That is . . . quite a process."

Adastriana chuckled, but then her countenance darkened. "But things have changed," she said. "The tradition is no longer honored, from what I hear."

He frowned. "How so?"

She drew in another breath. "The last few times a new True Oracle was supposedly taken to Neustis, she was found lacking. There have been accusations of false prophecy and favoritism . . . I am not an expert on these things. I never envisioned myself becoming the next True Oracle, so I never looked that deeply into it. But I do know that, for the last fifty and more years, the Oracle has been the same woman. And it appears she will continue being the Oracle, since there has been no selection process this year."

The knight's brow furrowed in thought. "So it would be this year that the True Oracle is replaced?" Gavin asked.

"I believe so, yes."

Gavin's eyes narrowed as he stared toward the horizon. "I think I am beginning to see what is going on."

Adastriana stared at the man as they continued, waiting for him to say more. But when he did not, she stopped. Gavin went on for several paces before he realized his companion was no longer leading her horse across the desert. He stopped as well and glanced back.

"There is something you're not telling me," Adastriana declared.

He faced her. "You're right."

"Why?"

He approached her carefully. "Because you told me 'all will be revealed' when we arrive in Neustis, as if to suggest that it will not be revealed before. Who am I to argue with a zantrist's divination?"

She huffed. "You are an aggravating man, Gavin Reed."

"Yes. I know."

* * * *

The day wore on. The two travelers rode in silence punctuated by the occasional comment or attempt at casual conversation. The winds of the wasteland were stronger the further west they traveled, necessitating the donning of scarves around their lower faces to keep them from choking on the swirling dust.

Gavin found himself becoming increasingly more alert the further they trekked. Adastriana's prophecy that his life would come to an end some time this very day weighed heavily upon him. It was one thing, he realized, to know one's life was always in danger. He had come to terms with that as a knight-gunman and thought nothing of the precarious edge he walked between life and death. But it was another to be told one's life was fated to end on a specific day, without being told how. As far as Gavin knew, he could accidentally slip from his horse and gnash his head upon a rock and that would be the end of it.

Every sound, every shadow in the dusty maelstrom around them had him anxious. He found himself reaching for the butt of his pistol more than once, as if he had somehow regressed to a first-year infantryman. He berated himself time and again for his nervous reactions . . . but could not stop them.

But the day passed, strangely enough, without incident. Not even a single gapemaw threatened them as they followed the worn road leading to Neustis which, to Gavin, was a mild miracle. These lands, he knew, were virtually infested with the broad-jawed predators. But aside from occasional spor, there was no sign of them.

Mounting the crest of a high hill, Gavin reined in his steed as he looked upon the great walls of the city before them. Adastriana also stopped, staring ahead.

"Neustis?" she asked, pulling down the scarf covering her face.

The knight-gunman nodded. "Yes," he confirmed. He noticed a group of caravans heading toward the gate. Unlike Averine, Neustis was as fortified as Owrn, with impressive walls and steep-sloped towers that stabbed like swords into the heavens. Even from his distance, Gavin could make out a massive, mechanized colossus standing to either side of the gate.

"If they are watching for us, simply riding in as we are will not do," Gavin said. His attention shifted to the caravans, and an idea blossomed. "But there may be another way in. Come."

* * * *

"Check every caravan," the Master of the Guard reminded his guardsmen. He stood upon a podium as tall as the average man, watching the large covered wagons as they arrived at the gate.

"You will know the knight by his armor if you see him, and the zantrist by her tattoos. Be swift of action; the errant knight is to be executed on sight, but the woman must be captured alive."

With these orders, the guardsmen went to task. As a colossus stepped in to fill the entrance to the city with a heavy mechanical whir of gears and hydraulics, the guardsmen approached the first of the five wagons as they trundled to a stop. Unceremoniously, they demanded that every man and woman pull back the hoods of their cloaks and reveal what they wore beneath. One after another, everyone was inspected.

Other guardsmen searched through the crates, boxes and bushels within the wagons and checked underneath with the aid of bull's eye lanterns.

"Here, now, don't go upsetting me goreberry bushes," grumbled the portly driver of the last caravan. "Them things are hard enough to grow. I don't need some clumsy guardsman jostling the roots."

One of the guardsmen turned the blinding light of his lantern upon the round-bellied driver. "We are looking for fugitives. If we, eh, jostle your berries," he said with a chuckling sneer. "'Tis our right to do so."

"I'll be remembering that come tomorrow morning if you visit my stall," responded the driver with a scowl. The young man seated beside him stayed sheepishly quiet.

The guardsman in the rear of the cart looked among the large potted plants, moving aside heavy sacks filled with plucked berries. He kicked each one for signs of a human form within, but found nothing.

"No sign in this wagon," called the guardsman. Another piped up as he straightened after inspecting beneath. "Nor under."

"Fine," said the man with the lantern. He gestured to the driver. "In you go."

The driver offered a false smile, then slapped the reins and clucked his tongue. The cart's four horses moved forward. The towering colossus began to move aside so the caravans could enter the city.

"A moment," called the guardsman. The colossus paused. Faces from within the wagons turned to look as the guardsman approached the portly driver once more.

Gavin felt a brief flash of anxiety, wondering if this was to be the moment of his demise. How ironic, he thought, that it would occur when we are so close.

The guardsman stepped to the side of the cart. "I rather happen to like goreberries," he said. "What stall will you be in?"

Gavin scowled in thought for a moment. "Seventy-three, if I remember correctly," he said, knowing there were hundreds of stalls in every market. He only hoped that his random guess did not clash with information the guard already had.

But the guardsman only winked. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, then raised his voice. "Sorry to have troubled you all."

The colossus finally stepped to the side, and the caravans rumbled into the city.

"Stay alert!" cried the Master of the Guard after the wagons had passed. "The fugitives will be here by midnight!"

Gavin allowed himself a small smirk as the wagon he drove bore him forward. Beside him, the real driver of the cart expelled a heavy breath of relief.

* * * *

Many minutes later, under cover of darkness in an alley between a pair of tall stone buildings, Gavin pulled off the cloak and unwrapped the sack around his middle which had given the illusion of a thick belly. It fell heavily onto the wagon's dashboard, filled as it was with the pieces of his armor. Gavin stepped to the rear of the wagon, to one of the potted goreberry bushes. He gripped the thick trunk of the six-foot-tall shrubbery and lifted with great effort.

Sputtering and coughing, Adastriana climbed out from her hiding place, covered in black soil. She shuddered and slapped at her arms and legs. "There were . . . worms crawling on my skin," she complained.

Gavin helped bat away most of the dirt from his lover. "If I could have fit inside one of these pots, I would have happily taken your place with the worms."

Adastriana shivered once more. "At least we are in. I did not think that would work."

Gavin looked to the still-nervous young man who owned the cart. "We thank you greatly for the chance you took," he said, then held out a handful of coins. "Go find yourself a comely wench for the night."

The young man beamed. "Oh, I shall, sir," he declared, snatching the coins. "I shall indeed."

"But say nothing of us to anyone," Gavin warned, fixing him a look of dire surety. "Or I will find you later."

The young man swallowed thickly. "As far as I can tell, all this has been a strange dream, very quickly forgotten."

Gavin nodded, watched as the man gripped the reigns of his horses and lured them, along with his cart, away. "Smart man." He returned his attention to Adastriana. "Now, let's get you cleaned up . . . before one more divination."

The zantrist arched a surprised brow.

* * * *

As with every city-state within the land, there were more and more buildings every year that fell into ruin and disrepair. Many such constructions became the homes for the abject poor, but others, such as the one into which Gavin led Adastriana, remained dark and empty.

Building a small fire upon the floor of what had once been some sort of warehouse, the knight turned his attention to his nervous-looking charge. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Adastriana looked about with an expression of distaste. There were a few pieces of furniture here and there, tables and chairs in advanced stages of wood rot, and little else. The walls and grime-darkened windows reflected the pale amber flames that danced within the fire, casting distorted shadows in all directions.

She addressed her knight. "For what?" she asked.

Gavin gave a small smile of self-admonishment. "So much emphasis," he said, stepping to the closest of the tables. "Is placed upon the zantrist ability to divine the future. I'll admit; until I met you, I never placed much stock in that. I, like the majority of people in the sovereignties, believe that only the True Oracle possesses such power."

Adastriana frowned, confused as to where Gavin was leading with his words. "I will be the first to admit that my divinations could not possibly compare with those of Her Truthfulness," she said.

From the pouch on his vest, Gavin withdrew the handkerchief, then stooped to draw the bone-handled knife from the scabbard along his right calf. The first item he placed gingerly upon the table; the second, he stabbed harshly into the wood so that it stood up straight. His movements made Adastriana start.

"Right now, I am not interested in the future," Gavin said, bracing his hands upon the table and looking down at the items. He turned his head so that his gaze fell meaningfully upon Adastriana. "I am more interested in the past."

The zantrist was silent for a few moments as the meaning behind the knight's words and actions sank in. Carefully, she approached the table, stepping around so that she faced Gavin across it. Her fingertips trailed lightly across the handkerchief, then across the flat of the impaled blade and its handle.

"As a zantrist, I can read the future," she said. She lifted her eyes to gaze into Gavin's. "Or the past. That is what you want, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Call it an inspiration," he said. "But I believe the key to understanding what is going on lies within these items. And only someone like you can tell me what it is."

Adastriana drew in a breath and regarded the objects. "Do you want me to tell you," she said. "Or show you?"

Gavin frowned. "What do you mean?"

She smiled thinly. "I can read the knife, and the silk," she said. "The nature of my ability, however, means that I will not remember any of it. So, either you will have to possess a very good memory, or . . . or you can share the divination with me. But that means we must be joined."

Gaving cocked his head. "'Joined,'" he repeated, unsure of what Adastriana meant.

She smiled coquettishly and stepped back, beginning to divest herself of her clothing. Firm, naked breasts were revealed as her top fell to the floor. "Remove your armor," she whispered coyly.

Gavin's eyes widened a moment before he understood. Hastily, he began to loosen the straps and buckles that kept his armor secure and let the pieces fall to the ground. But even as Adastriana, the most beautiful and erotic woman he had ever known, now stood naked before him, the circumstances kept him from responding as he otherwise would have.

But the zantrist only gave him a look as she sidled closer, brushing her nude body against his. "I need you to relax," she said pointedly.

He gritted his teeth. "I am trying."

She smiled sexily, then slid down to a squat before him. "Let me do the 'trying,'" she said huskily, brushing her cheeks against his dangling penis. Still keeping his attention, with her eyes upon his, she parted her lips and worked Gavin's cock into her mouth, sucking gently.