Runestone

”What do you see?"

The man that uttered those words was fierce, his eyes cruel and hard as they stared down at his seer. He was a handsome man with a crooked scar that bisected one rugged cheek, marring his perfect mien. A white linen shirt hung from wide shoulders, ties crisscrossing the fitted material around his waist. Black leather molded to his muscular hips and thighs, a decorative codpiece fitting snugly over that piece of flesh he was most proud of.

"Kyrsta," he growled when she didn't answer at first. She looked up, her soft heather colored eyes taking in his measure.

"Now is the time, Mitas, if you wish your campaign to be successful. The marriage contracts will be signed and the ceremony will be held by the new moon. You must strike before the union is approved for their combined forces will outman yours."

Mitas reached out, grasping her cheek as she sat on the stairs of the dais in his throne room. They were alone, for her powers were stronger when she was one to one with the vision's owner.

He'd allowed her a pillow to cushion her on the stone stairs but she refused to use it, not wanting anything from the man who'd usurped her mother's throne.

Kyrsta tossed her head, her tawny curls bouncing around her soft shoulders. Pulling away from his hands, she gathered her runes in their stone cup, rattling them softly before tossing them onto the stone tablet that lay across her lap.

"What now?" Mitas asked, his tone eager. His dark eyes took in her appearance, feeling the surge of lust that she always caused in him sending his cock to its full eager length. If he didn't need her powers so very much, he'd have made her his the day he'd taken the second kingdom as his own.

She'd been fierce, her tablet and runes in their cup at the floor at her feet, a short sword in her hand. He could tell from the way she held it, that she hadn't the same fighting skills as her mother, instead having inherited her

grandmother's visions and ability to read the runes. She'd been easily taken, his hands holding her back pressed to his front, his cock pushing against the softness of her ass. He'd have taken her then, but she reminded him of the legend that went with her powers. When she lost her virgin's veil, her powers would be gone as well.

It had been a close thing for his lust had been almost as fierce as his desire for conquest.

Instead of taking her, he'd forced her to watch as he'd fucked her maid, laughing at the hatred and loathing he could see in her eyes as he'd plunged his cock into the unwilling body of the girl beneath him. When he'd finished, as his sperm flowed through the length of his cock, he'd grabbed Kyrsta's hair, his lips finding hers, kissing her with all the passion he'd spent on the little mewling wretch beneath him.

She'd fought, making the kiss even hotter for him and he let his hands fill with her breasts, squeezing cruelly. "I will have you," he'd growled, tearing his mouth from hers as her teeth had dug into his lip, drawing blood. "I will fuck you until all you see is me and you will weep for every drop of blood you spill of mine."

"Then I hope I cry for years," she hissed. "I long for the day that you lay gutted upon my mother's throne and my people rule once more."

She flinched back as he raised his hand threateningly. Instead of hitting her, he pulled his softening cock out of her maid, blood mixed semen spilling onto the girl's soft white thighs. He pulled Kyrsta close, rubbing his stained flesh against her cloth covered thigh until he was hard once more.

His hands tore at her blouse, spilling full mounds of soft flesh, tipped with rose colored nipples that hardened in the cool evening air. "You are beautiful," he'd growled, tugging at those hardened nubs, his breath catching as she moaned in pain. "Bring her in," he'd called and Kyrsta had gasped as her mother's beaten and bruised body had been dragged into the room.

Allaria's eyes had widened in shock at the sight of her daughter being so roughly and crudely fondled by the man who'd beaten her and her troops. "No," she moaned, her hands reaching for her daughter, wanting only to stop the torturous caresses.

"Ah, so you still have some fight left in you," Mitas had laughed, moving so that Kyrsta stood before him, his hands cupping her breasts, making sure that her mother had an excellent view of her daughter's corruption. "I find that I like this daughter of yours. Is there any reason that I shouldn't take her now, while you watch?"

Allaria took a step forward, stopped only by the sword that pushed at her stomach. "What do you want?" she demanded. "Do you wish my blood, my throne, my heart? What will make you stop this madness?" She nodded as another of Mitas' men fell on top of Kyrsta's maid, thrusting his cock into the struggling maid.

"Give up your rights to the throne of the Second Kingdom."

Allaria stared into Kyrsta's eyes. She could see her daughter's pleading, her willingness to fight this madman even as he began to tear at the rest of her gown. "I give up my rights as Matriarch of the Second Kingdom and any rights of my heirs." A sob caught at her throat and she reached out for her daughter. "Please," she begged, beaten by her love for her daughter.

Mitas laughed, pushing the girl towards her mother even as he nodded his head at his man.

Kyrsta cried out in horror as the sword bit deep into her mother's flesh, a scream torn from her as her mother's body was pushed from the tip of the sword to land upon the stone floor. "Mother, no..."

She fell to her knees, rolling the body, seeing death slowly leach into her mother's eyes.

Allaria gasped once. "I...love..." she managed to say and then she was gone.

"You son of a bitch," she screamed, rising and turning toward Mitas, utter loathing in her eyes. "I will kill you." The words were screamed, the hatred coming from deep within her.

Mitas caught her unsheathed claws, laughing as he easily subdued her. His hands held hers crossed over her beautiful breasts and he listened as she panted, struggling madly against him. His cock was pressing against her, his lust causing him to thrust against her even as he couldn't bury his hardened tool into her. "Continue and I will be forced to take your ass, Kyrsta. It is a beautiful name, love and it suits you well."

"Let me go and I'll cut that rancid piece of flesh from your body and stuff it down your throat."

Mitas chuckled. He held her easily with one hand, snapping his fingers with the other. The wide throne room doors were thrown open and her mother's court advisors were brought in. Six women, all beautiful, most with graying hair and eyes that had seen much in this life filed in. "Cease your struggles or I will be forced to have these women given to my army. Will you be as willful when they are raped over and over until they are dead?"

She slowly stopped moving, allowing herself to be held by him. Kyrsta heard a scream and watched as her younger sister, Mara was brought into the room. She took one look at her mother's dead body and began screaming.

"Calm her down," Mitas growled. "Calm her down or she'll be in the same shape your mother is."

"You're a bastard," Kyrsta said, pulling at her blouse to cover her breasts before she went to her sister, pulling the terrified girl into her arms. She stroked Mara's beautiful blonde hair, rocking her gently. She slowly pulled her to the side of the room, shielding her from the avarice of Mitas' men.

Mitas had the council of women removed from the throne room as well as Kyrsta's mother. Then he strode up to the dais that held her mother's throne and sank down onto the throne. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled at the two girls. "Tell me what you see?" he said, nodding his head at her rune stones and tablet.

"You wish me to read for you?" Her voice was full of the disbelief that he would think she would help him in any way. "You're a more arrogant bastard than I thought."

Mitas sighed heavily. "Listen to me and listen carefully, Kyrsta. I might not be able to take you as I wish, but, that doesn't keep me from killing your sister. Now, read for me!"

Kyrsta glared at the man, then she hugged her sister, whispering comforting words into her ear before going to her tablet and stones. It was the first of many readings she'd done for him since that first day and every time she had to force herself to tell him the truth. Many times she saw forecasts of his doom. But Mitas had that part figured out as well. He'd threatened her, in front of his men. If he died in any way on any of the missions he went on, Mara and Kyrsta were to be torn apart, physically, limb from limb.

If it had only been Kyrsta, she would have sent him to his doom with not a second thought. But for Mara, she would do anything. As long as she proved useful to Mitas, Mara and she lived in a luxurious suite of rooms. They were fed from the finest that the castle chef could concoct. Mara was able to keep her tutors and go on with her life pretty much as it had been before Mitas had defeated their mother. Only Kyrsta was forced to deal with Mitas and his constant lusting gazes and roaming hands.

Now, she sat forward, staring at Mitas as he rubbed his hands together and paced, planning out loud of how he would take the first kingdom and who he would put on the throne to handle affairs there. He enjoyed the thoughts of the coming battle and the fear just the saying of his name would wreak upon his enemies. "You've done well, Kyrsta. You've done very well. Now throw them once more and tell me of the riches that shall be mine when I claim the throne of the first Kingdom."

Kyrsta scooped up the black and white, oblong shaped stones and let them drop into the stone cup. Shaking them, she glanced at Mitas before she let them fall. She stared at the shape they had fallen in, the two sided white and black stones bouncing off the tablet's raised sides. She flicked through them carefully and gasped. Glancing up at Mitas, she looked quickly down at the stones.

The things she read, the portents of the future she could see in the stones, was not for Mitas. This time the stones had done the one thing they'd never done before. They gave her a hint of the future that loomed before her. A man, one of grace and might was coming from a long distance. He would be the one that would defeat Mitas, though his struggle would be great. She wasn't given even a glimpse of how that was to be done but she felt a thrill of hope that there would be a way.

"What do you see?" he asked again, though this time his tone was gentle for she'd pleased him already with what she'd told him already.

She let her hand slip through the stones, disturbing the pattern they'd fallen into. "Your victory will be assured if you strike soon, Sire."

"There was something else," he said, his voice accusing. "Do not hide it from me, Kyrsta. You sister and yourself are very much at the mercy of my moods."

"As you are forever reminding me," she muttered. "Naught more but your victory, Sire. I see you upon your gray stallion, your chain mail strewn with the blood of those that fought against you. Your sword is above your head and your eyes are alight with the fire of the fight."

She clamped her mouth shut as more fanciful words tried to escape her lips. If she grew too fanciful, it would make him even more suspicious.

"How come I think you are lying, Kyrsta?" He moved closer to her, bending to grab her chin and turn her face up to his. "Are you lying? Do you see something else in those little stones? Do you see my death?"

Kyrsta fought against the strength of his fingers, letting the pain wash over her so that when she answered, she sounded out of breath. He stared down into her eyes, his dark eyes full of his suspicions.

"I know what would happen to me and to Mara if I allowed you to be killed." She jerked his head away, picking up her stones and storing them in her cup. Setting the tablet on the floor, she let the runes and cup settle on top and rose to her feet. "I do not lie when I say that I've seen your victory and your successful concourse through the first kingdom."

"But you saw something else as well." It wasn't a question and Kyrsta wanted nothing but to be away from him. He wouldn't be happy unless she told him everything.

"I saw you rutting on the Princess," she growled.

"Jealous?" he asked with a grin, enjoying the look on her face.

"I wish you both great happiness." She pulled away and headed toward the door, barely slowing when he called her name.

"Kyrsta, you will dine with me tonight."

She nodded and then left the throne room.

* * * *

Christian Gage slammed out of his apartment, rushing down to the basement parking in his apartment. He jumped into his black Mustang convertible. Backing out of his allotted space, he headed out and into the late afternoon traffic.

The tingling sensation that had been plaguing him all day began again, this time making his fingers itch. He tried to shake his hands, thinking that maybe they'd fallen asleep, but it didn't help. The tingling grew more than annoying, it was becoming a painful burning sensation and he pulled into the mall, parking at the very edge of one of the lots.

Clapping his hands, he rubbed them together. When the tingling begin to shift, working toward his shoulders, he felt a cold sweat break out on his face. His stomach began to churn and he thought he was going to be sick. A contracting pain had him gasping and he lifted his hand, staring straight through it as it slowly disappeared. Letting his head drop against the seat back, he felt a scream rise in his chest, but before it could emerge a huge gust of wind blew his dark hair around his face.

Then he felt as if he were falling and landed hard on his back, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving him gasping. He forced himself to lie still, breathing slowly as he recovered. The tingling was gone as if it had never been and he felt whole once more.

Ten minutes later he sat up, staring around at the strange world that was around him. He was on a wide stretch of beach, an ocean tide slowly working its way up toward him. "What the... This isn't right. Where the fuck am I?" He forced himself to his feet, the heat of the afternoon sun burning into his skin.

He turned in a full circle on the sand, seeing nothing but more sand and water everywhere he looked. Mentally flipping a coin, he stayed near the water, moving down the sand with his back to the sun. It wasn't long before the sun began to feel like it was baking his brain.

Fear became his constant companion and he began to wonder if he hadn't knocked his head, if maybe he was imagining all of this. He breathed a sigh of relief when the sun moved lower and the air grew cooler. Thirst was still a nagging need but he managed to keep walking.

The sound of a horse's whicker had him raising his head and he saw an image that he knew couldn't be real. She was beautiful, golden hair and eyes of an almost impossible purple color. Her dress was diaphanous, floating around her body as she rode in front of him on the back of a white horse. "W-who are you?" he murmured.

"Kyrsta," she called. He could barely hear her over the beat of her horse's hooves. "Find me."

Christian stared after her and then felt his body finally give out. A combination of the heat, the shock of the sudden immersion in this desert, and the portal or whatever it had been that had brought him here, final took its toll. He felt the sand come rushing toward him but he never felt the impact.

They gathered around him, their robes blowing in the desert wind. Lifting him between four of them, they took him further down the sandy beach. A group of tents were quickly reached and they took him into the biggest. He wasn't aware when he was stripped naked, two of the robed figures examining his clothing and the strange bindings. Then he was put naked into bed, a blanket covering his shivering form. They left him alone then, letting him sleep.

When Christian woke, he stared around the heavy cloth walls, lifting his head when he heard the furtive movements of another person. "Oh, you're awake," the woman said, lowering her hood as she spoke.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice a rusty croak.

The woman was tiny, but she hurried to the side of the bed, pouring water from a crudely fashioned carafe into a wooden glass. She held the glass to his lips, holding his head up with one arm while she fed him sips. "Better?"

"Yes," he said, sounding more like himself. "Where am I?" he asked again.

"You are in the Second Kingdom," she said softly. "Your clothing is so strange. Where do you come from, stranger?"

"New York," Christian answered, taking the glass from her and sitting up, only realizing he was naked when the blanket fell to his waist. "The Second Kingdom of what?"

He was well made, muscular with wide shoulders and a slender waist. His muscles moved easily as he lifted the glass to his mouth once more, draining it quickly. He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her answer to his question.

"The Second Kingdom is here," she said, her confusion obvious. "Where is New York?"

"The United States? America? Does any of that sound familiar? If you have a map I could probably find it for you." Christian tried to hide his aggravation but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Tira, they are waiting."

Christian turned his head, seeing the man who'd entered the tent. "Maybe you can help me?"

The man went to some hooks that had been driven into the tent post and threw a pair of pants and a loose shirt to Christian. "Dress, we eat first and then we talk."

He waited for the woman to leave, pushing away the blanket and sliding off the pallet he'd been sleeping on. Throwing on the shirt was pretty easy, it laced up the chest and he tied it closed. Then he pulled on the pants, tying them at his waist. The material was different from anything he'd known before. It was rough and he rubbed his hand down his leg, getting used to the feeling.

Seeing his shoes, he pulled them on his bare feet and then left the tent, looking for the man and woman who'd been taking care of him. They were sitting at a rough table under the shade of an awning. The sun was up but it wasn't too high in the sky. He glanced down at his watch, seeing that the hands were frozen at 3:49 p.m.

The woman stood, holding out her hand and gesturing for him to take a seat at the table. As soon as he was seated, the food was brought to the table and a pungent smelling liquid was poured into another one of the strange wooden glasses for him. The woman fixed him a plate, a square of flat wood that had been sanded down until it was now smooth.

Christian took the plate, glancing around at the other men who were seated. The women served them, not sitting to eat until they finished and then eating at a smaller table.

"You are in the Second Kingdom, a land that is ruled by the pirate, Mitas."

Christian stared at the man who had spoken. This whole thing was beginning to feel like a bad dream. If it wasn't for the sunburn he had, he would have thought he was still asleep in his bed in his apartment in New York City. "I don't understand, I'm sorry. It's just that I've never heard of the Second Kingdom or anywhere being run by a pirate."

"But that is where you are, stranger."

"Christian, Christian Gage." He held out his hand and saw the strange look in the man's eyes. "You don't shake hands here either?"

"Shake hands? No, why would we?"

"It's a form of greeting. Never mind." He stared at the man. He had started this conversation and now he sat stoically, eyeing him. A sudden thought crossed his mind and he blurted out the question before he even thought about it. "Who's Kyrsta?"