Lae Star Darwater

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."