Thy Kingdom Comes: Kingdom of the Crescent Rune

By Steve Woodland

Lost in an ancient time on a world far removed from reality, with no idea on how she came to be there, much less what she was supposed to do about it.

If the darkly familiar giant wolf-come-god of the world didn't kill her, perhaps the callous inhabitants or savage beasts would. Then again, it would probably be the soup.

In the midst of this kaleidoscopic world of magic and mayhem, she found love in the arms of Liana, her warrior wonder woman. Together then, they would find a way back to reality, a way out.

This is the first book in the imagination of Mia Elyse and the love of her life, Liana Yun. It's romantic, adventuresome, and awash in magic . . . and the occasional wolf drool.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jul 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984501127

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Steve Woodland.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2018908803

ISBN:                  Hardcover                        978-1-9845-0114-1

                            Softcover                           978-1-9845-0113-4

                            eBook                                978-1-9845-0112-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/25/2018

Xlibris

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M

IA ELYSE STOOD a little confused and a lot frightened, in a dungeon cell. She recognised it as a dungeon cell because it pretty much looked like a cliché of every old dungeon cell she had ever imagined. How she gotten here however was a complete mystery to her. Now that she thought about it, so was pretty much everything else.

With her mind shy of any memories at all, she stared blankly about her, completely unable to fathom what was happening. The cell consisted entirely of four mould covered stone walls, a stone floor and a stone ceiling but it was the smell that drew her attention. There was an underlying musty smell of wet mould and… something else… something very unpleasant. It caught in the back of her throat and threatened to cause her to gag at any moment.

In the dim, almost non-existent light, she could make out that there was enough room to perhaps pace two or three steps in any direction. A tattered and stained blanket lay in a crumpled heap upon the pile of musty straw to one side signifying that it was probably a bed, of sorts. The damp, flea and lice infested pile of straw did not look inviting at all.

The smell eventually drew her eyes to the far corner and as they adjusted to the darkness she could see a not so clean hole cut into the floor. As recognition of what that hole would be used for came to her she thought it prudent to be ignoring the filth that surrounded it for now and quickly turned her eyes away. Built into a recess against one wall was a heavy wooden door which appeared to be the only obvious exit. There was a small opening in the centre top of the door that allowed her to see out and a smaller hinged flap that opened inwards at the bottom. This was probably for allowing food to be shoved through, Elyse guessed. She could not, even in her ultra wildest dreams, squeeze her slender body through either opening.

Not that she was overly large of build. Elyse was in her early thirties, stood about 160 centimetres tall and had a flaming array of auburn waist length hair that cascaded in long curls down each side of her slim face. Her hazel eyes, small upturned nose and full, deep red lips gave her a natural sultry look. She had an attention grabbing body, the kind of body men drooled over and women envied, or drooled over, depending on taste.

Added to this open display of rampant femininity was a keen mind and a quick wit. A memory surfaced, an odd memory, of her life. She knew with certainty that she had often wielded her body like a weapon, rarely taking prisoners and leaving a trail of devastation behind her. She was beautiful, smart and sexy and damn well knew it. She frowned at that thought. It did not feel right.

Currently she was dressed in very little at all. Knee high white leather boots coupled with an ultra short white skirt and a low cut, cleavage popping, shear blouse with matching lace push-up bra, also white. A jaunty little laser pistol attached to a small belt circled her waist and a communicator that looked like a small round coin was pinned to her left breast. The entire uniform being white, it contrasted beautifully with her dark olive skin. It was the small and all too revealing uniform issued to beautiful, smart and sexy women. Her memory furnished this information though she was unsure where the uniform came from, or what the uniform signified. She wasn’t even sure if she was even actually beautiful or not. She couldn’t see all of herself but what she could see looked ok, she guessed.

What there was of her uniform lent itself to fashion and little else. It was not functional at all and the lack of material allowed the cool dampness of the cell air to send little goose bumps erupting across her skin. A few purple patches of cold appeared on her arms and legs and almost all of her midriff. She shivered and wrapped her arms about her chest in an attempt to hug to her what warmth her body still held.

There was no window in the cell, the only light coming from a smouldering torch stuck in a wall opposite her cell door. The acrid black smoke smelled of something dead and the odour emanating from the hole in the floor was starting to churn her stomach. She had to look at it then of course, the smell made it impossible to ignore any longer. It sent her senses reeling and she choked down the bile that threatened to erupt from her at any moment. She held her hand to her mouth to keep her insides in.

With her free hand she instinctively reached for her communicator only to discover that it was now gone. That was odd, she thought, it was there a second ago, she was sure. Gone too was the regulation jaunty little laser pistol and the belt that held it. At least they had left her clothed, whoever ‘they’ were.

Flashes of memory came back to begin filling in the blanks. Mia Elyse was the name listed on the manifest as that of Second in Command of the Rythanian Deep Space Battle Fleet. Vivid flashes of flames and destruction and of trying to breath in the nothingness of space filled her mind and her eyes opened wide in horror. She saw again the faces of those around her, terrified, screaming faces, some attached to bodies with missing pieces. A kaleidoscope of colour without any sound.

The demise of the hereto before undefeatable Rythanian battle fleet had not exactly been expected. It was the first defeat in Rythanian recorded history and to say that it caught Elyse and everyone else on board totally by surprise would be a gross understatement. A shiver ran down her spine as the unbelievable tried to slot itself uncomfortably into her consciousness.

She did half recall a small, blue beam that had darted out from the planet they had been attacking, a beam that seemed to wrap itself around her. It had felt warm, comforting, almost welcoming. Then it had not. It had hurt. She was sure she had been stretched, elongated beyond what her mind told her that her body was capable of. She trembled at the memory.

She took a few shallow breaths to strengthened her resolve. It would be pointless to do otherwise. She did not become Second in Command of the Rythanian Deep Space Battle Fleet just because she looked pretty. In the sexist macho world of the Rythanian that certainly helped but was far from the only criteria required. She was more than a capable officer. She was strong enough to overcome any obstacle, even this. She was Rythanian through and through, her family being able to trace their family history back to a time well before the Rythanians had become an interstellar power.

For reasons she could not fathom her empty mind chose that moment to return all of her memories to her, all at once, in a kaleidoscopic flash of brilliantly choreographed chaos. A panoramic history lesson of the Rythanian rise to greatness blasted into her mind. Her head spun.

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The Rythanians are a war faring race. To say violence and mayhem flowed through their veins was a monumental understatement. For whatever reason, lost though the eons of time, the Rythanians had fought and defeated every possible adversary. From the moment some disgruntled cave dwelling Rythanian had first raised a spear and impaled an unfortunate non-Rythanian, they have mercilessly slaughtered everything in their path.

From a time when ancient was young, the Rythanian horde roamed their land, burning, pillaging, slaughtering any community they came across. Many small towns and villages built walls and moats to try and keep the horde at bay but it was to no avail. All this ever achieved was to simply delay the inevitable and greatly annoy their attackers. In the many tomes of Rythanian history there never once occurred any great turning point where the Rythanian horde met a few heroic warriors who battled against incredible odds and won the day, or villages and towns rallied together to form a great army, to swoop down from the hills and fall mercilessly upon the resting Rythanian army, sending the horde to their doom.

No, events of this nature just never happened. The Rythanian horde was simply too well practiced in war and far too many in number to defeat.

Eventually the Rythanians came to fully remove all non Rythanians from their land. It then became the turn of all the neighbouring lands, and then the lands further afield. The Rythanian empire grew. Those civilisations who came into contact with the advancing Rythanian horde either surrendered or were butchered. Surrendering to the Rythanians was not an easy option but when faced with either that or total annihilation, well, the choice became a little easier. The Rythanians unfortunately treated most surrendering peoples with utter contempt and usually enslaved them all. Most opposing rulers and all of their military forces were dispensed with, immediately, and brutally.

As time passed some of the more prosperous members of these captured races found that they could buy their way out of trouble and live fairly peaceful lives. In Rythanian culture they were looked upon as enterprising individuals and could even become reasonably well respected within Rythanian society, dependent of course upon their continued success and tax paying ability. This also served to begin the documentation of the Rythanian Empire, their way of life, customs, beliefs, laws and what went into their day to day lives. If it had not been for the inclusion of a more philosophical people, the Rythanians would never have developed beyond butchers.

With the technological aid of newly conquered peoples, sailing ships began to carry commerce and war parties across the seas. The Rythanians moved their armies and their battle fleets ever outward. Civilisations fell. Any revolts were mercilessly dealt with. Eventually Rythanian law became dominant across all of the planet.

They were ruled by a succession of monarchs. In ancient times this was decided by rule of the fittest. Eventually however, one particular family gained control and has reigned Rythania for over a thousand Rythanian years.

As time passed, and technology advanced, the Rythanians eventually found themselves venturing into the limitless realm of space. Here they encountered another populated planet within their own solar system and spent several hundred years conquering it. Still this did not quench the Rythanian thirst for power. Not long after the fall of that first planet, a Rythanian deep space battle fleet began to expand the Rythanian Empire ever outward into the galaxy. They soon discovered that they were far from alone.

The Rythanian High Command were xenophobic and elitist. Any planet encountered carrying life with any degree of sophistication would be contacted by the Rythanian deep space battle fleet and asked straight out to either surrender or die. The terms of surrender were such that very few civilizations on the these planets ever accepted, preferring to die in an attempt to stay free of Rythanian rule. Some of these conflicts lasted years, Rythanian time, but most lasted weeks, some only days, depending on the technological level of the civilisation being attacked. The one constant in all of these conflicts was that every invasion ended in Rythanian rule.

Then, in one short momentous instant of time everything changed. Further inward, towards the centre of their galaxy, some six light years from the Rythanian home world, where lay older civilisations promising a more bountiful plunder, the Rythanian deep space battle fleet flashed into existence. It was an unprecedented technological achievement to how the Rythanian deep space battle ships could traverse the great distances of space and suddenly appear from literally out of nowhere. How they managed to navigate the distance and arrive at their destination so precisely was something the occupants of the rather innocuous looking small, blue and green planet could only marvel and guess at. All this knowledge was soon forthcoming however in the ensuing conflict that followed.

Contact was made, the usual demands were laid out. The people of the planet below made diplomatic attempts at resolving the looming conflict but all such attempts fell on deaf ears. There were only two options available from the Rythanians, surrender or die. It was a simple choice, so diplomacy, as always, achieved little.

Not receiving the reply he so desired, the Fleet Commander turned to his rather stunningly beautiful Second in Command and instructed her to prepare the fleet for battle. Mia Elyse recalled nodding in affirmation and issuing the standard orders. She had stood at her post before an array of instruments on the bridge of the main battleship as the invasion began. It was a well executed and oft rehearsed set of manoeuvres. What followed next however was most decidedly not.

As the first transports began to leave their mother ships, the entire fleet suddenly and rather spectacularly disappeared in the blinding flash of an intense orange light. After a few seconds the light blinked out, leaving only a few pieces of wreckage drifting idly about.

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Elyse felt a little tremble of something she did not recognise run down her spine as she came to realise who she was, where she was, and why. It was the feeling of fear, but it was as alien to her race as was defeat. She resigned herself to do better than to simply stand here shuddering and made a valiant attempt to shrug off the unwanted feeling as she would an ex-lover. But it refused to leave her and clung to her mind, numbing her usual ready wit and intelligent thought.

Breathing shallowly to quell the rising panic in her, and to avoid inhaling too much of the nauseous aroma, she moved cautiously to the door. She avoided the hole and was mindful not to step in anything unseen. She tried to peer up and down the corridor but the window in the door was just too small and she was unable to see any real distance at all. She tested the door for strength by giving it an almighty shake. Surprisingly it moved, only slightly, but it definitely moved.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, gave a little smile of sudden hope, stepped back and kicked out at the door with all her strength. The door held, her knee jarred and pain shot up her thigh. She cursed, hobbled backwards and fell onto the pile of straw. Quickly realising what exactly she was lying on, she flew back up onto her feet and hopped about the cell for some minutes cursing the door, her jarred knee and the world in general.

At the same time as she was occupied with these events, her mind noted that the cell seemed to be getting lighter. Rather alarmingly a small, intense ball of orange light began to appear over the mat of straw at about head height. She remembered what the last orange light had done and her spirit quailed.

Once again she felt the icy touch of fear. She tried to fight it but the growing ball of light chased all rational thought away. She edged her way to the door and began to shake it and as the ball of light grew bigger her shaking grew more frantic. She was about to scream for help when a thin, raspy voice seemed to struggle free of the ball and fill the small cell with incomprehensible gibberish.

It sounded like something a child would attempt when first learning to speak. Images of a baby dressed in pretty pink frills filled her mind. She had no idea why but it had an odd calming effect.

What? Elyse asked, her brow creased in puzzlement and her manner anything but calm. There came a soft clicking noise and the voice returned. Now however she could understand the words, if not their meaning.

Prisoner 458767. You have been imprisoned as an enemy of the state. The voice tried to sound impressively large but failed miserably as it just lacked the timbre, that defining bass baritone that all good law enforcers managed to convey. Elyse stopped her frantic banging and turned to face the ball of light. Tilting her head to one side, which made her hair cascade sexily across a bare shoulder in a look she had cultured for some time, she said What? again.

I said. The voice paused, coughed, resumed. Prisoner 458767. You have been imprisoned as an enemy of the state.

I know what you said, I just don’t understand what you are talking about.

Oh, um, right, one moment please. The voice trailed away. Elyse could hear the owner of the voice talking to someone else just out of earshot but was unable to make out what was being said. Presently the disembodied voice returned. Um, yes. Ok. I’ve talked to my supervisor and he says to tell you to just shut up and listen, so, just shut up and listen ok.

Don’t talk to me like that! Elyse bridled instantly and shouted back. Her knee hurt, her back itched and she was afraid. Fear did not come easily to a Rythanian and the strength of the emotion had both surprised and dismayed her. Training however was another thing. As Second in Command of a Rythanian battle fleet, few indeed were those capable of telling her to shut up, those not wanting to find their head separated from their shoulders at any rate.

Oh, sorry. Look, I’m new at this. There’s so many prisoners that they have had to recruit call centres to talk to you all. I only have a few minutes to tell you what is happening before I have to call the next one. So, please, listen up ok. I don’t mean to frighten you, I’m just doing my job.

So this light is a communicating device? Curiosity began to override her fear. She edged closer and began examining the strange, basket ball sized, pulsating orange ball of shimmering light. It floated unsuspended before her at about head height.

Yes, um, no. Well, sort of. The thin, nasally voice answered. It’s used for time communication mainly, but does have other uses. Now, I really must tell you…

Time communication? What do you mean? She tried to peer into the light hoping to discern an image of someone talking to her. It was far too bright to stare at for too long but she thought she could see the outline of a small weedy man sitting at a desk. He had a pinched narrow face and a small sharply defined black goatee.

Oh come on! He snorted laughter. It’s used to talk to people across time. It’s obvious isn’t it? He sounded rather condescending, like he was addressing a child, or an imbecile.

Well to you maybe. You mean you can talk to anyone across time with this?

No, only those from our time line who have travelled back. My word, didn’t they teach you anything in school?

Not this they didn’t, no. Time travel? Sounds amazing. Elyse shook her head in disbelief. She ran all the theories for and against time travel through her head and she still couldn’t see how it was possible. The Rythanians had dabbled in time travel of course. How more efficient to would be to simply travel back in time with their modern weaponry and fight a bunch of stick wielding cave men then another modern army. Unfortunately for the Rythanians, and fortunately for everyone else, they never did quite figure out how to go about it.

Look, the weedy voice continued, I have to go soon. Please listen up. His voice altered slightly and he sounded like he was reading from a prepared script. Prisoner 458767, you have been imprisoned as an enemy of the state. You will have the right to an attorney and have the right to defend the charges. As there are so many of you it will take some time to process all of the hearings. When your turn comes, you will be notified.

I’m a prisoner? Elyse asked, somewhat shocked by the revelation.

Well, yes, of course. The voice replied.

How? I mean… What’s going on?

Look, just listen ok. Man, it’s not hard. The voice admonished her. It was sounding strained. Now, where was I … oh yes, you will be notified. As all of our prisons filled rather rapidly, many of you are imprisoned in various prisons and dungeons throughout time. Prisoner 458767 you have been imprisoned in a dungeon approximately three thousand years in our past. The owner of the voice coughed in surprise himself at that. He cleared his throat and continued on. The conditions of your confinement will be taken into account at your sentencing and will reflect on the sentence given. That is all. You will be contacted when your turn has come.

Wait! Wait please… The ball began to fade but brightened again as Mia Elyse moved toward it.

What now? The voice muttered in complaint.

How long will I be here? How long before I’m free of this cell?

Let me see and the voice trailed off again, muttered a few incoherent noises and returned. It has been calculated, starting with prisoner number 1 and moving on through in chronological order, that our court system should be able to handle around eighty hearings a day. You are prisoner number four hundred and fifty eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty seven.

Eighty a day. That will take… and she ran through a quick mental calculation. My God, that will take more then fifteen years! and she was almost physically ill.

Um, yes, actually it’s more like twenty years. Perhaps our year is different to yours. What’s the rush anyway, the penalty for attacking our planet is death. There’s no real defence for that now is there!

Then why the hell are you keeping me here? What’s the point?

Hey, we’re not barbarians you know. The ball suddenly went pop and disappeared, leaving the cell almost completely black and Elyse shaking, not from the cold, but from horror.

She was sick then. She fell to her knees, leant over the smelly hole in the floor and heaved up her breakfast, most of the previous night’s dinner and a fair portion of the previous day’s lunch. After a few minutes her stomach settled and she wiped her face with the dusty blanket, smearing her face brown. There was a small tear there as well, maybe two. They ran down her cheeks taking small black lines of mascara with them. It turned her eyes into little dark stars.

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She sat back from the hole onto the bed of straw, dropped her head into her hands and began to sob uncontrollably. She could feel small crawling things beginning to scamper onto her thighs and this made her cry even more. A feint orange light appeared through the tiny window in the door. She could hear the muffled voice of another woman some distance away. Did that mean that there was another prisoner like her here? Just the thought instantly gave her hope.

Climbing eagerly to her feet she crossed to the door and tried to listen to the conversation. It was distorted by distance and the quiet bits were hard to make out but not surprisingly it seemed to go along the same lines as hers had done. Shortly it was over and the light popped out of existence. This was followed by a loud scream and a shout of NO!. She did not recognise the voice but it must be another crew member of the ill fated Rythanian fleet.

Hello? She shouted but there was no response. She shouted again, only at a higher pitch. This time she also added, Can you hear me?.

Hello? seemed to echo back. Who’s there? The voice came from her right, but from how far away she could not be certain.

Commander Elyse. Who are you? She alternated placing her mouth to the door window hole, shouting at the top of her lungs and quickly placing her ear to the small window so she could hear the reply.

"‘something’ Officer ‘something’ something’. Who ‘something’ ‘something’ are you?" came the distant faint reply.

What? She strained to make out the words.

"‘something’ enter ‘something’ ant Officer Sarah ‘something’. Who are you ‘something’"

Sarah, I’m Commander Mia Elyse. Are you alright?

"Yes Ma’am. No. I mean… ‘something’ No! This place smells ‘something’ and it’s ‘something’ and ‘something’ ‘something’ and I itch. There’s ‘something’ ‘something’ ‘something’ ‘something’ ‘something’."

Oh, this was ridiculous. She was hard pressed making out anything the woman was saying. She stepped back from the door and studied it in more detail. Really now, she thought, if the weedy man’s story was to be believed then she was from three thousand years in the future and this place looked like it was rotting around her, surely she should be able to do something, anything, to get her the hell out of here.

She looked to the two big heavy door hinges. They appeared strong and sturdy with big bolt heads the size of her thumbs securing them. The hinge fastening the door to the wall must be on the other side of the door as there was nothing this side to indicate how it was secured. The lock itself, whatever that was, was also on the outside. From her side she could not make out at all how the door was held shut.

Ok, nothing helpful there. Maybe the timber of the door itself might yield up some clues on how to defeat it. It as made up of five vertical planks bolted and held together with iron bars. They looked, and felt, solid. The boards appeared to be at least 30 millimetres thick. When kicked, the door moved a little bit, but her aching knee held testament to its inherent strength.

She wore nothing of consequence so she had nothing with which to manufacture any tools out of. The cell contained only straw and an old blanket. It looked rather hopeless and, really, it pretty much was. Her sinking heart told her that there was nothing she could do to get herself out of the cell. Resigned to the fact, she slumped back down onto the straw. Presently she dozed off into a troubled, dream filled sleep of orange lights, weedy voices and 20 years of despair.

She awoke to an odd scrapping sound and was immediately on her feet. Opposite her a large arm had extended into the cell from the flap at the base of the door. It was pushing a wooden bowl towards her. The arm was massive. The owner must be positively huge, the biggest man she’d ever seen. Judging by the girth of the arm he must have been over three metres tall, at least. And it was hairy, a dense mat of tight black curls covered dark brown, almost black, weather beaten skin. The hand was the size of a bunch of bananas, the fingers looking like fat sausages. She also noted in passing that the finger nails were chipped and filthy and really in need of a good manicure.

The arm pushed the bowl about half a metre into the cell and was unable to fit any further. It then retreated and returned shortly after with another, smaller bowl which it placed beside the first. Then the arm was gone. Elyse stepped quickly to the door and tried to see her gaoler. All she could make out in the gloom was a large back, covered in what looked like a dirty brown leather vest. He stood, or rather, stooped, a little over three metres tall.

He stopped before a torch and poured something onto it from a small flask. The light grew brighter for a few seconds before settling back down to its usual smouldering. As it flared she noticed that his head was about the size of a bowling ball and looked dark and scarred like his arm. His dark hair was cropped short against his scalp with a pair of large ears that protruded from the sides of his head like that of an elephant, his neck looked squat and thick. Dirty and patched dark green cloth pants were secured below the massive gut by a cord of thick twine and the small area of his profile she could see showed him to be the ugliest man she had ever seen with thick sausage lips, a big bulbous nose and squinty deep set eyes.

The man turned away, stooped, picked up his load and shuffled out of sight into the darkness. She heard him open another flap and push a bowl in. A minute or so later she heard another flap, then another. My God. There must more of us down here. She counted another five meals being delivered before distance obscured the noise.

Sitting back down on the straw she examined the contents of the two bowls. The smaller one held an opaque grey liquid that smelled of mould and dust. The larger held a thicker liquid, only this one seemed to have what could have been vegetables in it. Well, they looked like vegetables. It smelled almost like it may have been some sort of broth. The contents of both bowls were cold to touch. She poked what looked like it