Category Archives: C.N.Lesley

Death’s Angel. Last snippet of this section

Leave a reply

The centurion didn’t help her with learning to read and write their language as he had promised. He sent Nyka in his place. Azriel still wanted to please the centurion above everything, despite her constant attempts to neutralize his venom. His absence robbed her of the ability to judge her progress.
Nyka had set the portable unit up for her and showed her how to key the screen; activate the voice mode and how to interact with it. Aside from this, she was left completely on her own. Buzzing from the food hatch, to announce a meal break at regular intervals, became her way of marking time. Notably, the food was the same as had been given out to the captive women in the holding pens. At least the centurion’s task gave her something to occupy her attention. She wanted to master the skill since it would be easier to navigate her way through the ship if she could read the directions, if that is what they were, posted at the intersection of corridors.
The worst part of her isolation was increasingly vivid dreams. They always started in an Angel holding cell where all her kind were gathered; a rare event in itself. She could see them but not make them hear her or see her. This was the point when she started awake, still screaming at them to notice her. And then came the last, most horrific dream of all. She had watched what the Angels were doing this time, instead of trying to make them notice her.
Azriel woke shaking, covered with a cold sweat. Only once had an Angel died without having an immediate body replacement. Uriel had been more than a friend to her when they got a chance to spend rare time together. Like her, he was an assassin, although no-one would guess from looking at him. His curling blond hair cascaded to his shoulders, framing a face of classical proportions. Deep-set blue eyes sparkled with mischief when he was around her. Added to the good looks, in her opinion, was the fact that no one supplied the Angels with a means to shave during non-working times. His beard came through about four shades darker than his hair, making him look like a charming rogue.
Both Coda and Azriel had been with Uriel on his last mission. It should have been an easy break-in for Coda to access the mainframe data base. Something had gone wrong. They were expected. Heavy duty weapons fired at them without warning. Azriel found a way for them to get clear when a shell blew a hole in a security perimeter wall. She turned to call to the others and saw Uriel’s body drop to the ground. His handsome head had been blown clean away: gone into a million pieces of mush and bone. He couldn’t be regenerated without his memories. He was really dead; forever. It was Coda who got them clear that day. Azriel didn’t remember how; everything was a blur from that moment on.
Back at base, she turned her face to the wall in their underground cell, ignoring Coda’s attempts to reach her mind. One by one all the Angels had been thrust into the cold, dimly lit rock cavern. They gathered around her in silence, all withdrawn from assignments while the controllers searched for the breach of security. When the last Angel arrived they began making a marker for the fallen.
Grieving together, the Angels carved Uriel’s name in the rock floor, taking turns to pound it with a hand-sized piece of harder stone someone had managed to smuggle in past the guards. No one investigated the noise. No one came near to give them food or water beyond what was already in the holding cell. Not one of them spoke. The sound of the stone pounding echoed for days and nights until they had finished. They did this for the one who was never coming home to them.
In her dream, she had seen them pounding with the stone again, heard the sharp beat going on and on until they all gathered around in silence, looking down. When they moved aside, she saw another name under Uriel’s . . . Her own.

Where, oh where is this?

Leave a reply

I came across a series of youtube documentaries that follow the old routs on Britain’s oldest map, the Gogh map. In the sixth one it talks about the Arthurian sights. Glastonbury, Tintagel, Pendragon Castle and what sounds like the Wuthaler, a small, mystical lake.The lake is to the left of Pendragon hall and bear in mind the west of this map is what we would call north today.

I will give a signed copy of Shadow Over Avalon to the first person to come up with the exact map references of where this lake is today. Here is a big hint. It is in England.

Death’s Angel newest snippet.

Leave a reply

The tingling of the venom rushing through her blood stopped when it reached her extremities, but the euphoria remained. A great weight lifted from Azriel, and it wasn’t just from the centurion easing off her. She didn’t stir when he raised her loose blue garment, stopping before he exposed her breasts. His intention seemed merely to check her wound. How kind he was. Why hadn’t she realized this before? She was so lucky to have been taken by the Outworlders.
The centurion grinned. The tips of his fangs showed, still stained with her blood. He was in her mind again and yet she didn’t care anymore.
“Good girl. Lie still while I get more bio packing. You want to get well, don’t you? I want you healed.”
Yes, she would do whatever he asked of her just because he asked. She needed to please him. Somewhere, buried deep within, a tic of wrongness died. Long forgotten happiness surged into life.
He looked up at her from a crouched position. “You don’t want to die, do you? I don’t want you to die.”
The Sidhe retrieved a med kit and returned to her. He gently removed the old dressing to clean the wound. The edges were much closer together, and it looked as healthy as a wound could look. Did she want to die? No, she didn’t. Not if he wished her to live.
“When you are healed would you like to work out with me? I’d prefer you kept your battle edge.”
She would adore more time with him. He was so gentle as he tended to her. She could barely remember how ‘gentle’ felt until he touched her.
He paused, looking up at her. “We are searching for a new home, one that has no sentient lifeforms and is able to sustain us. It will be hard at first, building a new beginning from what is available. I need someone who is used to living off the land to instruct us all. This is why I took an Angel . . . My beautiful Angel.”
She melted under his green gaze. Without thinking, Azriel reached out to touch his face. He caught her wrist, arresting her movement.
“No. Those are decisions best made when my venom wears off, and it will. Beginnings are a delicate path to tread.” He returned her hand to rest by her side and then finished dressing her wound, pulling down her clothing to its former modest position.
Disappointment flared. She wanted him.
“Later, if you still feel the same way.” He packed away the med kit and returned it to storage in the side cabinet by her bed. He then sat down on the bed, close but not touching her. “Nyka thinks you are bored, and I agree. I would like you to learn to write in our language. Do you think you can do this for me?”
Of course she could.
“When you have mastered this skill, I want you to write about everything you learned of survival skills from your experiences in the wilderness on your homeworld. Now I want you to sleep. When you wake, I will return to show you how to operate a portable console, and then we can begin.”
Her eyelids grew heavy. She drifted into sleep.

Death’s Angel. The rest of the new snippet.

Leave a reply

With a sibilant hiss, the door slid aside to admit her into a communal area. Padded chairs and low tables were arranged in groups. Some had game boards set out on them. The game pieces looked as if the players had left in a hurry with pieces scattered and on their sides.
At a table against a far wall, by one of the small port windows, sat the centurion and Nyka. Both of them seemed relaxed and were sipping from tall glasses containing a clear green liquid. They watched her approach.
“I guess I win the bet.” Nyka smiled, a faint stretching of his lips. “I told you she was getting bored.”
“I concede.” The centurion didn’t look amused. “You get your planet leave when we find a refueling stop. I really thought she would wait until she had regained full strength before she made a move.”
Azriel froze. Did he know her intentions? Where was this leading? Neither of them had weapons pointed at her.
“Come here, my bad Angel.” The centurion gestured to a chair next to him. “I would offer you a beverage, but I think, judging from your expression, I would end up wearing it.”
He was right, damn him. She wasn’t in the mood to ‘do nice’. She accepted his invitation.
The black void of space shone with a myriad of tiny stars from the port hole. Azriel had expected to see the surface of Altair IV. “Where is my homeworld?”
Nyka turned to study the view. “I think your twin suns are the brightest light on the tip of the constellation shaped like a hexagon.”
“When he isn’t tending to your needs, Nyka’s duties include astrometry.” The centurion raised his glass to the young Urak. “He is very good at it.”
Azriel barely heard his words. She focused on a tiny point of light, one among millions. Altair IV didn’t have interstellar travel technology. A world poor in metal lacked the resources. She hadn’t imagined a starship could travel so far, so fast. Now she understood why she couldn’t connect with the other Angels. The vast void of space isolated her.
“Nyka, you have a task now Azriel has joined us.”
“Yes, Centurion.”
Nyka glanced once in her direction and then marched to the door. Azriel doubted it would open for her as it did for him. She was trapped with the Sidhe.
He continued to sip at his drink, regarding her. A faint pressure in her temples warned of his intrusion in her mind. Azriel concentrated on the sights, sounds and sensations from a trek through a parched gulley under the blazing suns.
“Interesting, if too late. I have most of the information I wanted.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to die? Here you are free. Your controllers cannot order your movements.”
She held in a laugh. “Free? I am kept in a locked room away from the other women. You had me herded here when I found a way out. It is another form of control.”
He sighed. “I can’t return you to your sisters. They now know that you are still dangerous, and I would prefer not to send them into hysterics. I can’t let you roam my ship hoping to goad my crew into firing at you, and yes, you will obey me. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to force this issue, but it appears you leave me no choice.”
Azriel smiled, daring him. “Do you really think you could cause more pain than the controllers?”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of pain. Far too unsubtle. Come now, Nyka will have fixed the security issues in your room.” He stood, holding out his hand to her.
She let him take hers. Obey him, or he would send a message back to Altair. The next instant her body dissolved to reform beside him in her room. Shocked, she missed the start of his move. He threw her down on her bed, pinning her arms above her head, using his weight to keep her still.
“This is going to hurt a little. I am sorry,” he said, although he didn’t look sorry. His eyes took on a faint gleam. He transferred both her wrists to one hand.
Azriel waited for him to start tearing off her light clothing. She jumped when he turned her head to one side and lowered his mouth to her neck. The next instant he bit. She tried to struggle, desperate, fearing what he had started. He didn’t disengage, and a slow tingling started to spread from the penetration. The tingling spread, enveloping her body. A strange lassitude wrapped her in soft coverings that distanced reality. One small part of her mind screamed ‘venom’ but now she looked into the Sidhe’s incredible green eyes. There was blood on his lips, on his bared fangs; her blood, but this didn’t seem important. The eyes drew her.
“You are going to do whatever I say, aren’t you Azriel?”
“Yes, Centurion.” Whatever he wanted, she would do for him. Joy flooded through her that he would ask.

Death’s Angel, new snippet.

Leave a reply

Despite Nyka’s insistence she stay in bed, use a revolting catch-all for her body wastes, Azriel tottered to the small reclamation facility in a partitioned part of her room. Although the lever on the waste catching device was simple enough to figure out, it took several attempts to understand how to turn on the ablution chamber. The symbols on the control pads by the side of the cubical were more like random scratch marks than a written language, but she began to make some sense of them.
Standing under a rain of hot water amid a haze of steam was the height of decadence. Only the super-rich washed in water on Altair. Everyone else scrubbed down with sand followed by a thin coat of vegetable oil. Although the heat made her feel light-headed, she gave in to the sheer joy of the experience.
Each new wake time brought a return of strength. By the fourth wake time she could have taken Nyka down, but the centurion’s threat hung over her, staying her orders to kill, even if she had been so inclined. Did he know how much Nyka resembled her son; how she felt she looked into her son’s eyes every time she met his gaze? Did the centurion guess how hard it would be for her to attack the young Outworlder?
She lay quiet for him as he dressed her wound once more. Having another tend her went against her conditioning as angels didn’t get sick, they got new bodies. The helplessness of her current state aggravated her, but Nyka was quick and efficient at what he did.
When downtime failed again to initiate contact with other angels the hole in her soul grew bigger. Alone for the first time in her angel existence, Azriel craved any contact to take away the barren emptiness, even if she couldn’t reach her companions.
Nyka proved a poor substitute for her comrades, especially Coda. While open about the day-to-day running of a starship, he closed down if she asked questions about her future, or the centurion. The green-eyed Sidhe became a subject of unholy fascination for her.
When Nyka left her meal on the priceless metal table, Azriel ignored it. Instead, she studied his approach to the door without handles. He withdrew a hand-sized metal square from his pocket and put it on a flat indentation on the frame about halfway up on the right side. When he touched thin marks embedded in the square, the thing dropped into his hand at the same moment the door opened. Clever; making sure the mechanism was not only locked, but lacking in an intrinsic element.
Each symbol on Nyka’s square resembled those on the square plate in the ablutions cubicle. He had touched them in a specific order.
Azriel waited a while to let him clear the area and then snagged a spoon on her way to the cubical. A knife would have been better, but knives and forks didn’t figure in her utensil assignment. She needed truths. What if the Sidhe lied? Were Altarians a food source? Azriel didn’t intend to initiate a killing spree . . . not yet, not with the price so high for the other angels. What she wanted was to find the other women to make sure they were all there, or to start a fight. There was nothing for her on this ship except memories. The urge to be gone from life blossomed anew.
The controllers had always directed her actions in the past, except they held no sway over this situation. Her orders were clear. Replace the hostage, get on the Outworlders ship and then take out however many of them she could before she earned her final rest. But the Sidhe threatened the collective soul of the angels with his threat of informing the controllers about their private communication. He could read her mind.
The cubicle plate didn’t lever out clean; one edge was a bit bent by the time Azriel finished picking it out with the spoon. She reversed the plate, squaring it against the gaping hole full of electronics. It repelled away just enough to confirm her guess; a magnet.
Careful to keep the plate facing the right way she walked over to the door. Applying one magnetic plate to the other, she punched in the code she’d memorized. The door slid open. Could this be so simple? Azriel eased out into a gray metal corridor empty of Outworlders.
One of her plans fell apart at that point. She had intended to infuriate the Outworlders into firing on her once she was loose, except they weren’t around to oblige. Azriel padded down the corridor, the metal cold against her bare feet, hoping the ship’s surveillance would betray her sooner rather than later.
A faint movement in the ceiling caught her attention. A lens swiveled around to follow her position. They knew she was free. No sirens sounded; no lights flashed; no warriors ran down the corridor to intercept her as would have happened on Altair IV. She tried her square pad on one of the blank metal door panels. It didn’t open. A bulkhead slid out from one side of the corridor to block her retreat. She was being herded. At least she seemed to have irritated someone into taking action.
Azriel continued forward at a leisurely walk, expecting her path ahead to be blocked. Bulkheads closed behind her as she progressed. No side doors opened to her attempts to avoid being herded. She gave up after a while; curious to know where she was being led. A closed door now faced her in the distance. This corridor lacked side doors. Azriel picked up her pace, now weaving from side to side, expecting to be confronted by an array of weapons when the door opened if it opened.

Another five star review for Shadow Over Avalon!

Leave a reply
The Wizard of Oz reviewed Shadow Over Avalon
An enjoyable read September 4, 2016
This is a well-written novel about the Arthurian legend with extra and inspired splatters of sci-fi and fantasy. The characters are well-developed and the prose anything but purple. It is a thoroughly enjoyable read and I give it 5 stars.

Death’s Angel, the next little snippet.

Leave a reply

When the door hissed open, the faint scent of cinnamon on the air betrayed the centurion. Had he come to deliver the punishment he had promised or were they fattening her for food? Then it came; a faint pressing in her mind. Not the open sharing between Angels, but an insidious probe into her thoughts. She fought, trying to think of nothing.
The centurion knew her Angel name because he had picked through her mind. He’d casually violated her privacy. In that moment, she wanted to kill him as badly as she had wanted to kill all those responsible for her son’s death in another lifetime.
“But you aren’t strong enough and won’t be unless you eat.” His deep voice sounded mocking as if he laughed at her.
Azriel rolled over, trying to smother hot waves of pain to glare at him. He sat astride a chair and had his hands on the chair back with his claws extended. He was smiling. His canine teeth were even longer than Nyka’s
“Get out of my head.” Was there no way to stop his intrusion?
“Why? I find your thoughts quite unique and very entertaining.” He rested his chin on his hands, relaxed and still wearing an amused grin. Almost like a man, now his claws were hidden in his fingertips, and yet not. The pointed ears proclaimed him otherwise.
How much does he know? Azriel dropped into mental downtime to hit a wall of darkness. A guffaw forced her into full waking. She couldn’t share with him like an Angel.
“I wonder what it would be worth to your controllers to learn how their Angels communicate in private?”
“You’re dead.” She itched for the strength to attack him. The controllers must never find out.
“That’s my bad Angel.” He unwound his large frame from the chair with infinite grace and thrust the bowl of cold soup in her hands. “This would have been much nicer warm, but that was your choice. And we don’t eat our guests. I have another function in mind for you, apart from breaking my teeth on your skeletal enhancements.”
She started to aim the soup at him, but his stance indicated the beginning of a defensive action.
“Who would be quicker?” Again the undertone of laughter sounded in his voice.
“What do you want?”
He tipped his head to one side, running his eyes over her like a gourmand over a plate of food. “I’ll settle for an active effort from you to regain your health for now. Fight me over this and I’ll send an interesting message to your home world.” He gave a mocking half- bow on his way out, leaving her to fume.

Woo Hoo! Five star review of Shadow Over Avalon

Leave a reply

Five star review of Shadow Over Avalon
An absolutely spellbinding, reiteration of a classic! August 29, 2016
A brilliant retelling of the Arthurian legend filled with creative twists and complex layers that kept me turning pages. Definitely a must-read for Sci/Fi & Fantasy fans! It very much reminded me of Arthur meets Atlantis, but that is where the similarities ended. As the tale unfolded, I couldn’t help devouring chapter after chapter as the compelling characters and intricate plot drew me in and then tugged me along, calling for me to keep up when I was forced to lay the book down. An absolutely spellbinding, mesmerizing reiteration of a classic story that should not be missed!

http://amzn.to/1UdlhE5  And on all the Amazons, plus Kobo, Nook and iTunes.

Only 99c for an epic-sized science fantasy.

 

 

Death Angel. The rest of that last chapter

Leave a reply

Azriel roused to crisp air with a faint hint of antiseptic. She was lying on a firm, but not uncomfortable surface, and the pain had receded to a dull ache. The sounds of movement alerted her to the presence of at least two people. An ungentle hand touched her head, feeling over her scalp. Used to rough treatment, she kept her eyes shut and her breathing shallow.
“Easy with her.” The deep tones of the Centurion no longer rumbled with a hint of boredom. Urgency sharpened his voice.
“She killed without provocation or reason. This wasn’t her fight or the side I would expect such as her to choose.” This came from a nearer voice. “She’s dangerous.”
The examination continued. Azriel guessed the Outworlders thought her loss of consciousness due to a blow when she fell. She hoped they didn’t start moving her hair too much, or they would find the filawires woven into strands near the base of her skull. All angels wore their hair long to conceal the makings of garrotes.
“We knew what she was before we agreed to the exchange.” The centurion’s voice came from much closer. “I’d know the reason why the Altarians are scared shitless by their angels. Perhaps you can enlighten us, Azriel? I know you are awake.”
My angel name, known only to other angels. How did he pick through my mind? No. Not again. Never again would another control her. Azriel started her attack maneuver in the same second she opened her eyes, a movement arrested by restraints on her shoulders and hips. Pain flooded her senses for a brief moment, replaced almost instantly by a feeling of euphoria outside of her control.
Azriel stared, mesmerized, into eyes as green as irrigated grass, different from the other Outworlders she had seen face-bare. His pupils were slitted like a feline’s. An emergent black beard shadow darkened his jaw and upper lip, sprouting from much finer scales . . . or skin? He stood a head taller than the other man and carried the presence of controlled strength. Interest flickered in the depths of those strange eyes and he smiled, slow and lazy. This was the sort of man capable of killing and then going on to enjoy a full meal.
“I can bring back the pain as quickly as I took it away.”
The smaller man frowned. “Centurion, androids don’t feel pain. Altarians believe angels are immortal, so this being isn’t a true life form.”
“Shall I remove my control so Cestus can read your body language, Azriel?” He peeled off a black hide glove to run the sharp claw on his forefinger delicately down her cheek, just enough to break the surface.
She didn’t react. Pain might be gone, but sensation remained. Wetness flowed from her midsection. A cool lassitude seeped through her body. Minutes of life remained, bleeding away while the Outworlders argued. Freedom came on gentle wings.
“I can’t find any sign of a contusion. I’d say this wasn’t the result of an interruption to microprocessor function.” Cestus finished his search and stepped back. “Maybe her power pack needs recharging?”
The centurion sighed. “Since Azriel declines to co-operate, I’ll prove my point another way. She isn’t a full android. Transport on line.”
A faint crackle sounded from within the room. Azriel didn’t care. Whatever they did was going to be pointless. Torture would accelerate her journey into oblivion.
A half-smile quirked the centurion’s lips. “Lock on to the non-living layers covering the prone sentient.”
A buzzing enveloped Azriel, the same sensation she’d felt when transported to this ship from the surface. Her weary brain tried to piece together the centurion’s words, and then she found out what he intended. Her clothes, her hidden weapons . . . gone. Cool air whispered over her skin–all of it. Blood ran from the now exposed wound.
“Stars wept!” The centurion lost his smile along with some of his color. “Cestus, do something. I want her alive.”
Cestus grabbed instruments, handfuls of wadding and dumped them on her chest. “Shit. Oh shit. Keep her with us, or I’m wasting my time.”
The slitted pupils in the centurion’s impossible green eyes expanded. Azriel couldn’t look away, couldn’t think beyond breathing in and out. Somewhere things pushed inside her, but none of this mattered. She had to obey the centurion’s orders inside her head. He was in the controller place. Small capillaries exposed to air must be sealed. Yes, she could make her blood clot now that a medic was working to repair the huge injury. She could focus without the pain gnawing at her. Wetness had ceased to flow from her, and something covered the hole in her side.
“Bad Angel.” The centurion wagged a finger at her. “When and not if you recover, we will discuss your negligence in care of my property. Make no mistake; you are mine. You will obey me.”
Cestus’ eyebrows rose. “She needs blood. I don’t have a match for her type. I can only rehydrate her.”
“Then do it.” Again the index claw traveled over Azriel’s cheek. “Did you see the concealed weapons listed by the transporter? We missed them. She is going to sleep until she is fit enough for a suitable chastisement. I wouldn’t want her to forgo a second of what I have planned.”