The Oracle's Secret (The Oracle Saga Book 1)

by Amber Darke

  All I see is a blur, and I realise that I’m crying. I don’t know what about, I just know that I’m devastated, filled with misery and despair. Nobody is touching me or talking to me. I’m just weeping, alone, like the world is about to end.

  I snap back to myself and we’re still in the water, getting closer to the other side, but also closer to the rocks. I can feel Tarian’s heart hammering as he fights to get us through the water, forcing us closer to safety. The rocks are getting nearer and nearer, but then suddenly we’re at the shore, we’ve made it. I climb out, wet and scared but otherwise fine. Tarian is panting, his face red. I help him out of the water and he’s shaking.

  ‘Lie down a minute,’ I say. ‘Are you all right?’

  He nods and then lies back on the stone shore, taking my advice. I stroke his wet hair away from his eyes, trying to shrug off the memory of the vision. What was I so upset about? Is it something that’s going to happen soon, or a long way in the future? There were no clues, and it scares me.

  Tarian’s breathing gradually slows.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I don’t know how I’d have made it through that by myself.’

  ‘You would have found a way,’ he says. ‘But I’m glad I was here to help.’

  There are only the pillars now. I stand to get a better look at them. They look like they did before - a cluster of pillars, close together, in between us and the door. I take Tarian’s hand and we walk in, still dripping water from the swim.

  I can’t see the door any more. All I can see is pillars stretching in every direction. We walk forward but the placement of the pillars forces us to curve until I’m not sure where we’re going any more.

  ‘Stop,’ says Tarian. ‘It’s like the maze. Let me think.’

  He closes his eyes for a second and I watch him. His expression becomes calm, confident.

  ‘All right,’ he says. ‘Come on.’

  I’m grateful to follow his lead through the twisting, deceptive pillars, but I feel useless again. Another obstacle that I couldn’t navigate without him. What use am I, really? Maybe having visions isn’t my whole destiny - but what else am I actually good at?

  We walk through the pillars, Tarian striding ahead with certainty, and when we emerge, the door we want is right in front of us.

  ‘One challenge down,’ says Tarian.

  I smile in agreement, hoping that the next challenge will be something I feel better equipped to deal with.

  Chapter Twenty

  At least there’s no obstacle course this time. This room is smaller and there’s just a table made of flat, smooth stone, with raised squares all over it. This is the puzzle I saw in my vision. We walk towards the table and stare at it.

  ‘What do we do?’ asks Tarian.

  Good question. Each of the little squares has something carved on top of it - a line, a shape, a picture. One of them has a sun with rays shining out of it, others have rings or lightning bolts or runes that I vaguely recognise from learning about the history of magic when I was younger.

  ‘I think we have to move them into the right places,’ I say.

  I touch one of the squares and slide my finger across it. It follows the movement of my hand, but it stops against the next square with nowhere left to go. There are spaces between some of the squares, but not all of them. I try picking one up, but it’s firmly attached to the table. The only way to move them is within the pattern. It’s like one of those annoying sliding puzzles where you have to make the picture match up, or like a Rubik’s cube that’s ten times bigger and flat.

  ‘Well, what are the right places?’ Tarian asks.

  He’s right, there’s no point doing anything until we can figure out what the pattern is actually supposed to look like.

  ‘Can you find the right places?’ I ask. ‘Can you tell where they all need to go?’

  He shakes his head. ‘This is too small scale for a clear reading - and besides, even if I knew where they should go, I wouldn’t have a clue how to get them there.’

  I frown, peering at the squares. Some of the pictures seem related to each other - there’s a crescent moon, a semicircle that could be a half moon, and a circle with a blob across it that could be a cloud moving over a full moon. I try to remember what my handlers taught me about paying attention, seeing patterns, really looking at everything I’m seeing, and I realise that all of the images must correspond to the others in some way. There’s a logic to this, if only I can see it.

  I lean forward and examine all the squares, mentally putting them into categories, rearranging them, trying other categories to see what fits together how. And it all clicks into place.

  ‘Look!’ I say. ‘These ones with the lines, there are just the right amount of them to go all around the edge of the pattern. And the runes would fit in a square inside those, with gaps in between. Then all of the different groups of squares keep doing the same, going in smaller and smaller rings. The sun goes in the middle, with the moon squares around it.’

  Tarian whistles. ‘How did you figure that all out?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense,’ I say. ‘The numbers of squares match perfectly!’

  He frowns down at the table, shaking his head. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he says. ‘All right - how do we get them there?’

  That’s a bit more complicated, but now that I know what I’m aiming for, I know we’ll get there. I give Tarian the easiest bit to do - getting all of the edge pieces out to the edge - while I work on the squares in the middle, working from the centre outward. I move the sun to the middle spot, then find all of the moon squares, and I get so absorbed that it’s almost like meditating - I’m calm and focused, and there’s nothing here except me and the squares as I move them slowly around, getting them closer to where they need to be. I almost forget that Tarian is beside me until he gets the last edge piece out and cheers.

  I look up at him and grin. ‘All right,’ I say, ‘now you actually have to put them in the right order on that outside edge. Look how each one looks similar to the next one, how the shapes follow each other - start with this one here and go from there.’

  He works on that while I finish the centre. It’s really taking shape now, the pattern I saw in my mind coming to life in my hands. It’s incredibly satisfying. Maybe if we ever get out of this I should do more jigsaw puzzles.

  Tarian finishes the edge, I move the last centre piece in, and the whole thing glows for a moment. I wish I had a way to take a picture of the finished product, but the door is opening ahead of us and we need to go through, so I leave it behind with one last wistful look. It was really fun to be good at something for a while.

  The next room is one that I didn’t see in my vision. The only thing in it is a large rock at our feet.

  ‘What are we supposed to do?’ I ask.

  The mist from before appears and the ghost of the Nineteenth Prince nods a greeting at us. ‘Only one of you may perform this task,’ he says. ‘Choose wisely. The one chosen must move the rock from here to the door. Once they have picked it up, they may only put it down once, or the door will not open.’’

  It’s a good distance to move something that big - maybe thirty metres or so.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ says Tarian.

  ‘Very well,’ says the Prince, and disappears.

  It makes sense. Tarian is much stronger than me physically. He does a few stretches, squats down, and picks up the rock. He grunts at the weight and staggers forward, off balance. I walk near him, wishing that I could do something to help.

  He takes a few steps, then pauses for a second, shifting his grip. I pray he doesn’t have to put it down before he even gets halfway. But he doesn’t, he sets off again, a little steadier this time. I’m looking ahead and dividing up the distance he still has to go. We’re one eighth of the way there now, then one sixth, then a quarter, then three eighths... when we get to halfway I celebrate silently - he hasn’t even put the rock down yet.

  ‘
How far?’ he gasps after a while. I realise he can’t tell, he’s too busy working on not dropping it.

  ‘More than halfway!’ I tell him. ‘About five eighths!’

  He staggers a few more steps and then drops the rock, narrowly avoiding his own toes. He leans forward, panting. I come over.

  ‘You’re doing great!’ I say, taking his hand.

  He smiles at me and it fills me with light. Even if the worst happens, I’m glad this journey brought us together.

  ‘All right,’ he says. ‘Time to go again. Kiss for luck?’

  I kiss him, slow and deep, and then he picks up the rock and begins to walk again. This time I can see that it’s harder. He’s used so much of his strength already, and it’s been a gruelling few days. Instead of taking several steps at once he takes one, then stops, then another, then stops.

  ‘I know you can do this!’ I say. ‘You’re three quarters there now!’

  He staggers on a couple more steps, stops again to adjust the rock in his arms. Every movement is a strain now, and I wish I could take some of it away for him, but I don’t dare even touch him while he’s carrying the rock, in case that breaks the rules.

  Every inch is a battle now. His steps are smaller every time, and he groans with the effort of each one. But he’s getting closer, closer. The distance left to travel gets smaller and smaller until finally, with a last grunt of effort, he drops the stone at the door, so that it touches it. Then he sits abruptly down, his head in his hands, his shoulders shuddering. He’s slick with sweat and panting. I sit beside him, stroking his hair from his eyes as he gets his breath back.

  ‘You did it,’ I say. ‘We’re one step closer.’

  He manages a laugh. ‘Anyone can have brute strength,’ he says. ‘What about you with that puzzle? That was really impressive.’

  ‘We’re both pretty impressive,’ I grin.

  We wait a few minutes while he gets the feeling back in his arms, and then we walk through the open door.

  The room looks totally empty this time, except for a small pedestal beside us with a single piece of cloth on it. I’m about to go and see what it is when the ghostly Prince reappears.

  ‘You have successfully completed the challenge,’ he says. ‘You chose who would do it, and you chose well. Now your choice will have a consequence. The one who performed the last test cannot participate in the next.’

  That means, whatever’s coming next, I’ll have to do it alone. I swallow, hoping there are no more heavy things that need carrying. The Prince gestures into the room, and as he does a cube of stone falls from the ceiling - not a little one like the ones in the puzzle, but one that’s easily a metre across. It just drops right out of the ceiling and lands on the floor with a deafening crash and a cloud of dust.

  ‘Before the door can be opened,’ says the Prince, ‘the chosen one must walk across this entire room, avoiding the danger from above.’ He pauses, and I think I see a flicker of a smile. ‘Blindfold,’ he says, and then he’s gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I turn to Tarian, and he’s giving me the same dismayed look I’m giving him. He might have been able to use his powers to find a safe path across the room. I can’t do the same.

  ‘I wonder what my chances are of making it across alive?’ I say.

  I mean for it to come out more light-hearted than it actually does. If one of those cubes falls on my head I’ll be dead before I even know anything’s happened. We both look again at the fallen cube.

  ‘Maybe we should turn back,’ says Tarian. ‘Maybe this isn’t worth it. So what if we’re trapped in Sherwood forever? I can think of worse things. At least we’d be trapped together. We could make a life here, Livya, with no one to tell us what to do!’

  It sounds good. Who am I kidding, it sounds wonderful. I picture it for a moment - a little log cabin among the trees, living off the fruits of the forest, quiet and calm...

  The blood oath. If I give up now, I probably won’t even live long enough to get out of these caves. Of course, Tarian doesn’t know that. And I still don’t want him to.

  I shake my head. ‘I have to do this,’ I say.

  ‘Please,’ says Tarian. ‘Think about it?’

  ‘I can’t,’ I say firmly. ‘This is what I have to do. I’m sorry.’

  ‘All right,’ he nods, and I see pain in his eyes. ‘What can we do to make this work? Can you use your visions? Earlier, you managed to make yourself have a vision of what you needed to see. Can you do that again?’

  I frown, considering. ‘That was difficult,’ I say. ‘And it’ll probably be more difficult for something as specific as this - that vision was vague. This one would need to be incredibly clear. My powers would need to be as strong as they could be for it to have even a tiny chance of working.’

  ‘Then we know what you need,’ he says.

  He’s right. I need an orgasm strong enough to heighten my powers to the maximum.

  I’m tense, knowing that this has to work, but Tarian calms me, kissing me slowly, his tongue exploring my mouth while his right hand caresses my hair and his left holds me close. I want to rush, want to get this done so that we can be one step closer to the Lightstone, and Tarian senses my hurry.

  ‘Shhh,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘Take your time. The important thing is to enhance your powers, not to win any speed records.’

  He’s right. Haste won’t help if I can’t get safely through that room. I give myself up to him, letting him take control, guide me to where I need to be. He picks me up and pins me against the wall and I wrap my legs around his waist. He keeps kissing me, his arms supporting me. I feel myself relaxing at his touch, falling into it, being carried along by him.

  We move again, this time sitting on the ground facing each other, and his hand moves under my shift to touch me. His fingers brush my hip bone and then his palm skates across my waist, my side, and then he wraps an arm around my back and shoulder to hold me closer.

  The feel of his chest pressed against me, firm and smooth, makes my nipples harden to points that stand up through the thin fabric of the shift. He runs his free hand over the material, takes one of my breasts in his hand and squeezes softly. I wriggle, and lick my lips. He brushes his thumb across my nipple, through my shift, and, impossibly, it stiffens even more, and a wave of shuddering desire ripples through me.

  ‘Oh god, Tarian...’ I murmur, shifting with delicious discomfort as my need for him builds.

  We stay that way for a while as he kisses me, so deep and so long that I’m breathless by the time we break apart, trembling in anticipation. I want him to make me come right now, but he doesn’t, he just pushes my shift up so that he can see my whole body, tense and waiting for him, and then he licks, sucks, kisses, strokes his way down me with excruciating slowness. Parts of me that never felt erotic before are taut with pleasure now - the side of my waist tingles, the inside of my wrist quivers at the touch of his mouth, the crook of my elbow, the back of my knee... I want to beg him, but I force myself not to, letting my feelings out in moans, sighs, gasps, smiles, laughter when his kisses tickle and make me writhe under his touch.

  Then he puts his hands on my knees and spreads them apart and I moan, and I swear I almost come right then just from the look he gives me, his eyes sparkling, his smile sweet and just a tiny bit devilish. And then his fingers are inside me, exploring the soft wetness they find, and they move in me like they’re beckoning me closer, and it makes me curl around him, helpless and wanting. His fingers move slow at first, softly, but then faster, firmer, and, I forget what I promised myself about not begging, and I’m screaming yes, god, please, more, yes, this, harder, and then I can’t even make words any more, just sounds, hard, harsh vowels deep in my throat.

  And then I feel something else, something soft and warm pressing against the swollen ache of my clit. His tongue. It moves in circles, in rhythm with his fingers inside me, and I gasp out a long, inarticulate cry. It’s too much, it’s overwhelming in its intensity,
I don’t want it to ever stop but if it doesn’t I’m going to explode into a thousand tiny pieces.

  A vision prickles at the back of my mind but I don’t even spare it the attention, can’t pull myself away for a moment from this, and then I’m groaning so loud that my voice cracks, pulses of electricity searing through me, the world spinning and spinning, each jolt of pure, exquisite sensation more powerful than the last until finally I come back down to earth, still feeling like I’m floating. I’m trembling. He strokes me all over, kisses my mouth, my cheek, my forehead.

  I lie there dazzled. I’ve all but forgotten why we were doing that in a haze of pleasure, but a glimpse of the fallen cube reminds me and, shakily, I get to my feet.

  He sighs. ‘Does it have to be now?’

  I nod. ‘I have to go while my powers are at their height. I...’

  I want to tell him how he’s made me feel, how he keeps making me feel every moment I’m with him, but I don’t have the words in me right now, so I just kiss him, brush my shift back down properly, and turn to look at the challenge that awaits me.

  ‘Help me with the blindfold?’ I ask.

  He obliges, fetching the dark strip of cloth and gently tying it around my eyes. The darkness is complete. He kisses the back of my neck when he’s done tying the knot. I shiver, still shaking from his touch. I wish I could stay here with him.

  ‘Good luck,’ he says.

  I concentrate, trying to summon the vision power I felt a minute ago, just enough of it that I can see my next few steps. The power stirs in me and I try to filter it, letting it guide me without knocking me to the ground.

  Of course, once the vision comes, I don’t see anything at all. I’m still blindfold in the vision, but I can hear and I can feel. And I feel myself walk forward five paces, and then slide sideways two steps before there’s a deafening crash on my right.

  I take a deep breath and do it. Five steps forward, then two quick steps to the left. The cube smashes to the ground, just where I was standing a few seconds ago. My heart jumps. That was too close.