#Comingsoon: The Revenge of Excalibur

Well, once again, I’ve been remiss on updating by blog on the progress of my books.  My biggest  news is I finally finished my latest book, the next story in the Excalibur saga.  The Revenge of Excalibur is now in alpha beta reader’s hands.  So far, I’ve been getting positive feedback.  The only complaints I’ve received is the confusion with all the different races and how they relate to each other.  So, I added a glossary. 

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This book has been a long time coming.  Part of the delay was the fact most of the story had been lost.  If I hadn’t worked on and released We Journey No More before this book, I don’t think I could’ve done it.  I had so much more to learn about writing, and I also needed to build up my confidence. 

From my point of view, I think I’ve done a good job.  I love Pamela and Excalibur’s characters.  It’s shorter than The Secret of Excalibur, but now I have a jumping stone to the next book: Karrin: Warrior Child.

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Below, for your enjoyment, is Chapter One from The Revenge of Excalibur.  This is an unedited version.

Army boots: stomping, smashing the daisy with the blue center.

Arthur Merlin jerked his head back. He’d been so entranced with the fathomless, turquoise eyes of the breathtaking female before him that he’d lost all track of time. He blinked his eyes several times, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. As he became aware of his surroundings, he heard the dripping of water into the small, inner cavern lake, the shuffling of equipment being set-up, and the echoing of voices off the distant walls.

The image flashed through his mind again, more forcefully. Army boots: squashing, grinding the daisy with the blue center, into the cavern floor, until there wasn’t anything left but small, unidentifiable pieces.

Oh, shit. Major Breckenridge and Alpha Team. He’d forgotten all about them. Arthur had a lot of respect for the Major, especially after everything they’d gone through at Heathrow Airport and Lake George, but he couldn’t let Daisy fall into their hands. If she did, who knew what would happen to the evil entity trapped in the legendary Excalibur? Daisy was the only person who could control it. Just thinking about the Shalit escaping its prison made Arthur break out in a cold sweat. He’d already had his confrontation with the alien being, and lost. If it hadn’t been for Daisy, he’d be dead. Arthur had to find a way to save Daisy, and keep the Shalit contained.

He glanced at the tunnel entrance where Major Breckenridge and Dr. Tober were striding purposefully toward him. He peered back down at Daisy. She was looking up at him with such love and trust. His breath caught as he found himself falling under her spell. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t let himself get mesmerized again. She was in danger, he had to save her.

Gray eyes over daisy with blue center and then they disappeared.

*Yes, baby, I’m getting you out of here,* he mentally reassured her.

But to where? Daisy still needed medical treatment. Who could he trust? Ruth. Ruth would help them. She knew about the Shalit and the need to keep it contained. Remembering Ruth as she fled the cavern, clutching her necklace, made his heart wrench. Arthur sighed. He’d hurt Ruth. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t meant to fall in love either.

During Vietnam, he’d held too many of his friends in his arms as they bled to death, or watched as they disappeared in a shower of blood and gore. He’d learned the mantra of ‘It don’t mean nothin’, and hardened his heart to everyone and everything. Even after the war, those walls stayed firmly in place. Then he met Ruth. She’d torn through his shackled heart like she belonged there. Because of her, he finally felt love again.

Arthur peered down at the alien woman in his arms. If he hadn’t met Ruth, would his heart be as open to Daisy? He shook his head. There was no way of knowing, but he was starting to feel like a pawn in a game of kismet. He gave a frustrated sign. It didn’t matter right now. He had to get Daisy to safety. He’d deal with the emotional side of his heart later. He gathered Daisy into his arms, focusing on Ruth’s home in White Water and the beautiful garden behind the house. Locating the bench where Arthur had stolen his first kiss from Ruth, he BLIPPED!

With a startled cry, Arthur stumbled back a few steps, falling on his butt, clutching Daisy tightly to his chest. A second later, there was a loud clattering as an ornate, silver sword slid from Daisy’s limp hand. What the hell? Why was he sitting on a cold, metal floor instead of the stone bench? Where the hell were they? How did they get here?

Then his gaze fell on the sword. He tried scooching away from it as his heart thundered in his chest, palms breaking out in sweat. Why was Excalibur here? He hadn’t brought the sword with them. He had no reason to. Why would he bring something he was terrified of?

Confused, Arthur peered down at Daisy. Her face was paler than normal, and she appeared to be unconscious and barely breathing. With concern, he lightly stroked her cheek. What happened to her? She was awake a few moments ago.

Hearing loud gasps from above him, Arthur looked up, seeing three women wearing matching silver uniforms with black piping. They were aiming weapons at him that looked like ray guns from sci-fi movies. He shook his head in disbelief. Did they end up on a movie set somewhere?

“So, who are you with?” Arthur asked jokingly, “Hans Solo, or Darth Vader?” As he inspected the threesome further, he saw they had the same seashell ears Daisy did. Oh, shit. Were the guns real?

The pale women didn’t seem amused as they frowned down at him. “Earthman, you hold our leader. Place her on the floor and back away, or we will fire and end your human existence,” the tallest one demanded in accented English. Her weapon was pointed unwaveringly at Arthur’s forehead.

Even though the ray guns looked like toys to Arthur, he had no idea what they might do to his force-field.  Just my luck, I jumped from the frying pan into the fire. He gently lifted Daisy from his lap and laid her on the cold floor. He scowled at the space women as he slowly stood with raised arms, then backed up a few steps. He glanced over the round, metal room and his mouth dropped open. Holy Shit! They were in one of the spaceships that escaped from the cavern.

Loud alarms started blaring, and orange lights were flashing from the domed ceiling. A women sitting at a console, swiveled around in her chair, yelling, “Attack! Seven Calen ships have surrounded us. They demand our surrender, and the release of Emeara and the Earthman to them, or they will open fire. What shall we do, Commander Tigget?”

The tall space woman’s pale lips tightened as she peered down at her leader, lying helpless on the floor.

Daisy’s eyelids fluttered as she slowly opened them to regard her best friend. She had used most of her mental energy to redirect Arthur’s teleportation to this Calen ship. She could not allow the humans to capture her, or the Excalibur/Shalit would’ve endangered the whole universe. She looked up at her Gray Eyes, the only man powerful enough to save them from the seven Calen ships. *Tig, you must trust this human,* she said, in a weak mental voice, reaching out to Tigget and Arthur. *He is the one foretold by our ancestors.*

Commander Tigget glanced back and forth from her leader, and friend to the human male, but she never lowered her weapon.

*Tig, if we wish to survive, you must turn the battle over to him,* Daisy said telepathically. *Arthur, we cannot allow ourselves to be taken. We will die before we surrender. You two must join forces, to protect, and save us.*

With a slight nod to her leader, Tig holstered her gun, and then strode to a row of screens. She punched a button and they turned on, displaying seven ships.

So, these are the aliens that have been watching Earth, Arthur thought, as he stared open-mouthed at the classic style of UFO’s, seen for centuries all over his planet.  As there were still two women with guns aimed at him, Arthur carefully lowered his arms then knelt next to Daisy, cradling her head in his lap. He wiped the sweat from her brow with a trembling hand. He had no idea what they expected from him.

Tig looked at the other two space woman holding ray guns. “Holster your weapons. Upon our leader’s request, we must trust this human.” As they holstered their guns, she spoke to another woman at a different console, “Inform the Commander of the Calen ships that we will never surrender. If they wish to die in battle, we shall accommodate them.” While her message was being relayed to the Commander of the opposing fleet, Tig turned to Arthur, looking him up and down with cold, blue eyes. “I know not what you can do, if anything, to save us, but you must act fast. If they fire upon us, we are dead.”

Arthur tried swallowing the lump growing in his throat. He knew he was out of his element. Using his powers on Earth was one thing, but trying to take down seven spaceships was an entirely different matter. He knew his powers weren’t strong enough. Hell, nobodies would be. He rubbed his forehead, feeling overwhelmed. Everything was happening too fast for him to keep up. They were supposed to be in Ruth’s garden, not in the middle of a stupid space battle. Arthur knelt there, unmoving, not knowing what to do.

Daisy weakly raised her arm, pointing toward the silver sword. *Arthur, all you need do is touch the tip of Excalibur and you shall destroy the ships. You must hurry.*

Arthur recoiled back in fear. Touch Excalibur? Was she nuts? He still hadn’t fully recovered from the mental contact he’d had with the Shalit in the cavern. Heaven knows what would happen if he actually touched the damn thing. No way. In his mind came an image: a white daisy with a blue center, and over the center of the flower, a pair of gray eyes floated down. Arthur was infused with such warmth and joy; it brought tears of happiness to his eyes. A white beam flashed out, touching the daisy, leaving it burnt and wilted. Okay. Okay. He got the picture. If he didn’t try, Daisy would die. They all would.

Peering down at Daisy, he said, “I have no idea what’s going on, or how we got here, but I trust you, baby. I’ll destroy those ships for you.”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst kind of pain imaginable. Focusing hard on the seven Calen ships, with creases around his mouth, and forehead, he reached out and grabbed the tip of the sword. His eyes widened in surprise, as all he felt was chill of the steel blade..

“Cigsbah,” Tigget yelled, pointing at the screens. “They have fired upon us, my leader.”

The room became deathly silent as all eyes followed the white beam heading toward their ship. Abruptly, all screens lit up as the seven ships exploded into bright, molten balls of fire. Arthur threw up his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden glare.

Cheering and yelling broke out in the small, round room as the crew celebrated their victory. Arthur wasn’t cheering as he watched that thin, white line continue to advance toward them. He had no idea what it was, but he knew it meant trouble. He shook his head. How had he destroyed those ships? He wasn’t powerful enough. At least, he didn’t think he was.

Arthur watched the displays as the menacing white line crept closer and closer, until it was too close to their ship to be seen on the screens anymore. Bracing for he knew not what, he watched the beam breach the hull and enter the room.

Arthur stared, speechless, as the beam traveled soundlessly across the room, hitting his hand where it was still gripping the tip of Excalibur. Upon impact, a flash of light shot out from the end of the sword. As Arthur looked in astonishment at the deep gouge on the back of his hand, the light passed through the opposite wall, penetrating the adjacent side of the hull. 

What the hell was that? Arthur wondered, terrified. It had infiltrated his force-field. His stomach clenched in fear, and his hand throbbed in pain as he realized he was no longer invincible, at least not in space.

Daisy’s voice screamed into his mind, *Remove all of us from here, Arthur, before we implode.*

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. Once again, he focused on Ruth’s garden, wanting to get back home where he knew he was safe. Concentrating on everyone in the room, he BLIPPED!

And here’s a picture that I really want for my book cover.  I’ve sent it to my publisher.  I hope he agrees. 

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If you’ve read this far down, then you deserve a treat.  Here’s the first chapter from Book 3: Karrin Warrior Child.  Matron is a truly, dark person.  I’m enjoying writing about her.  Again, it’s unedited. 

The Year 2516 – Planet Earth – London, England

“And this one’s name?” a high, whinny voice demanded with impatience.

“Ah, it’s Karen Number 1685,” stammered a woman as she peered down at the reader in her hand.  She licked her lips, glancing up at the woman who overshadowed her slight frame.

“Damn, another number,” said the whinny voice in a huff.  “Don’t people have last names anymore?  Where is her damn family?”

“Well, it says here this one’s family don’t want her, Matron.”  Her eyes darted to the little girl standing next to her.  Her head was bowed, a curtain of dark, curly hair obscuring her face.

The girl’s head jerked up, defiance flashing in her strange blue/gray eyes.  “They weren’t my family,” she retorted, chin held up high.

With a loud slap, the towering, pudgy Matron backhanded the little girl.  She smirked with glee as the unwanted waif bounced off the gray wall, into a cabinet, then fell, face-down on the cracked, green tiled floor.

Hands on beefy hips, Matron yelled, spit flying, “You, little bitchy.  You don’t talk unless I tell you to.  You don’t move unless I tell you to.  You fucking don’t even breathe unless I tell you to.”  She violently nudged the small, limp body with her steel-toed shoes.  She paid extra credits to have them made just for this purpose.  “Now, get your ass up here on this line, and keep your mouth shut.”

As the small child slowly pulled herself to her feet, Matron rubbed her right hand with a grimace.  Damn!  Either she was getting soft, or these little bitches were getting harder.  She grinned when the child pushed her hair off her face, revealing blood running from her nose, and the right side of her mouth.  The red welt of a hand print was clearly visible against the pale skin on girl’s cheekbone.  Matron chuckled.  Looks like she hadn’t lost her touch after all.  Twenty years of backhanding insolent, little bitches had given her a lot of practice.

“Guard!” Matron yelled, making the other people in the room flinch.  “Take this useless piece of shit to a cell and read her the rules of the Home.”  Glaring around, she continued, “And if I see any of you pansies going soft with her, you’ll be doing the sewer detail for a year.”  She snatched the reader from her cowering assistant’s hands, and slowly read the information displayed there.  “This one’s a real loser,” she said with a sneer.  “Even her own family don’t want her.  Says here she’s also retarded.  Carp!  Another dummy.  I hate dummies.  Go on, get her out of my sight.”

An evil smile broke out on her pasty, pockmarked face as Matron watched the frail girl being hauled down the hallway by her collar.  As the helpless child stumbled along, trying to keep up with the longer strides of the female guard, she was body slammed from doorway to doorway.  That’ll teach the little bitch.  No one talked back to her.  In all her years as Matron, she’d only had one bitch that tired it twice.  Matron fingered the trusty nightstick at her side.  That mouthy little twerp had met her end with a hard whap up along the side of her head.  Since these bitches died all the time, one more was no big deal.

Matron stomped back into her office, where she notice her assistant cowering in the.  God how she hated weaklings.  Of course, if Mavis weren’t, scared of her, she would’ve already been transferred to another Home.  Matron stared down at her secretary.  Mavis had been an orphan here herself, and she’d learned early how to make herself useful.  Matron had a taste for young boys, and occasionally, young girls, so when a fresh, perky Mavis had offered herself in exchange for special privileges, she’d jumped on her.

Once she hit puberty, Mavis no longer appealed to her, so she’d trained her to be her assistant.   A job she performed very well.  Now, with her wrinkled skin and premature graying hair, she looked sixty instead of thirty-five.  A constant reminder that age was creeping up on herself as well.  Matron signed.  Well, there were plenty more where she came from.  She’d contact Warden and see if he wanted her for his boys.

Hmmm.  Not a bad idea.  She was ready for some younger boy-toys as the older ones had outlived their usefulness.  Matron knew she had several girls who were just turning sixteen.  They’d either be turned over to Warden, a farm on the marshes, or prison.  He could choose whether to keep them for his boys, or take them to his yacht.  Matron chuckled to herself.  The fools.  The girls thought if they were chosen to serve on Warden’s yacht, they were on easy street.  Little did they know the true fate of those girls.  Once Warden impregnated them, they were either left on some obscure island to fend for themselves, or tossed overboard.  No one would miss them.  No one cared.

Matron licked her lips in anticipation of breaking in some new playthings as she stared at her tit-for-tat assistant.  “Mavis, dear,” she said sweetly as she softly patted one pale, thin check with her chubby hand.  “See if Warden is available.  I have a sweet trade for him.  One I think his boys will thoroughly enjoy.”

She watched with amusement, and mounting excitement, as understanding and horror slowly crept across Mavis’ once beautiful face.   The tingling of sexual pleasure started building between her massive thighs.  She knew her six boys were roaming through the Home, terrorizing which ever girls caught their eyes.  They might be too old for her tastes, but they knew how to scratch her itch.  And she was feeling very itchy.

“Yes, Matron,” Mavis whispered, her head bowed, shoulders slumped in defeat.  She turned and shuffled out the door, looking as if she were heading toward her execution.

She most likely is, Matron thought with a shrug.  She doubted Mavis would last two weeks.  Not after the repeated gang banging those horny boys would subject her too.  Especially if Warden took a fancy to her.  She’d heard rumors he had some kinky sexual practices.  He took BDSM to the extreme.

As Matron squeezed her round buttocks into her padded chair, her vid beeped.  With a grunt, she removed the weighted nightstick from her hip, dropping it on top of the gray, metal desk with a thunk.  She punched a button and Warden’s face flickered to life.  As usual, he had a frown marring his craggy, handsome looks.

“Matron, I’ve received some disquieting news from the Master of the Boy’s Home.”  He narrowed his eyes at her further.  “It seems your credits aren’t adding up.  You’re claiming more bodies than the Home can handle.  I thought we had an understanding not to get too greedy.  As long as we don’t raise any red flags through the Central Registry Computer, no one will check that the credits allocated our facilities don’t match our body counts.  Your greed is jeopardizing years of flawless planning.” He pursed his lips at her.

Matron squirmed as the sweat trickling down her rolls of fat, making her uniform shirt stuck to her back.  Damn that ass kissing Master of the Boy’s Home.  Each month she’d been padding her inventory by one or two more bodies.  She didn’t really think she’d get caught, or that Warden would care.  He’s probably doing the same thing. Ever since Public Welfare went into law, they’d been inundated with orphans. All a parent had to do was sign their kid over as either a retard, or an unwanted.  Once the brat got into the system as an orphan, they never left.  Even when they turned sixteen, they were either sent to a Prison colony, a farm, or to Warden’s yacht.

Warden glanced down at a reader he was holding.  “It says here you’re claiming 730 girls, but you know the Home only has room for 700.  And it looks like you just received more credits for an additional teacher.”  He looked back up, cruel eyes glaring at her.  “The last time I was there, I counted 312 girls, so you’re receiving 700 credits each for the 388 girls you don’t actually have.  Isn’t that enough credits to fund your offshore account?  Don’t forget, I’m the one who set up your account.  I know how much you have hoarded away.”

Matron’s heart stuttered in her chest. Shit!  How dare he keep tabs on her credits.  She hadn’t realized he had that type of authority.  She licked her lips.  “Ah, it’s them damn unwanteds.  You know if’n they’re under five years old I gotta hold them for at least six months, just in case their parents want them back.  Like that would ever happen,” she scoffed.  “And I just got another one today, plus she’s a dummy to boot.  Between them and the little bitches that keep dying, my bookkeeping gets all messed up.  I’ll have a talk with my assistant and see if’n we can’t get this resolved.”

“You do that,” Warden said with a sneer.  “This is your last warning.”  Reaching out with his hand, his image disappeared.

Matron slumped back in her chair letting out a loud sigh.  God, she hated licking his balls.  She couldn’t wait until she had enough credits to retire.  She already had her eye on a yacht she wanted to buy.  Better and bigger than the one Warden owned.

With a loud squeaking of her chair, she pushed away from her desk.  Time to make her rounds, and see how many bodies she lost overnight.  Might be time to clean out the incinerator.  Rising, she snatched her nightstick off the desk, slamming it into the holster on her tire-sized waist.

Stomping out her office, Matron proceeded down the dismal, gray corridor.  The farther she walked, the angrier she became.  How dare Warden dictate to her?  She was doing the best she could.  She had to keep a constant eye on her staff just to make sure they weren’t skimming her credits.  She’d caught a few of them before trying to help some of the orphans.  Matron humphed.  Why would anyone want to help them?  No one outside cared, so why should they?  She certainly didn’t.

She also ran the very profitable synthetic drug refinery in the sewers.  That was her idea, and Warden loved it when she approached him with her suggestion.  But did he lend any help?  No.  All he wanted was his share of the profits.  She shouldn’t kept the idea to herself.  Though she had to admit, the threat of working in the sewers was a great punishment tool.  Not only did she get free labor, but most of the girls didn’t live past a year, so she received credits for bodies she didn’t have to spend resources on.

As she proceeded down the hallway, she caught sight of a ten-year old deformed girl, scrubbing the floor.  Matron knew this girl.  Her name was Alice and she was also a retard.  Gritting her teeth, Matron removed her riding crop from next her to nightstick.  Stopping where the girl labored away, washing the floor, Matron started beating the child about her head and shoulders.  God, how she hated dummies.

Alice didn’t acknowledge the whipping as she kept scrubbing back and forth with her brush.  Infuriated, Matron beat her harder and harder, until the girl finally fell over, legs pulled up to her chest, whimpering in pain and fear.  Breathing heavily, with a malicious smile, Matron glared down at the bleeding girl.  Yes. she was God around here and nobody will ever forget it.

So, what do you think?  Interested in reading more?  I hope to have book 3 out by the first of next year.  Stay tuned for more updates. 

About Sahara Foley

Bio: Until my husband died on Christmas 2012, I never thought about becoming a writer. In fact, the act of writing a story terrified me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved reading, just never had the knack for writing. The thought of writing dialogue scared the bejeebers out of me. See, Bob was the writer. He wrote stories for years but could never get a traditional publisher interested enough to publish even one. Now I understand why, as they were unpolished outlines. Then, after 30 years together, Bob passed away and my life was turned upside down. About a month later, I was sitting around my apartment, trying to adjust to the worst event in my life, when a little voice spoke to me. Why not publish Bob’s stories? To be truthful, ever since the advent of self-publishing, I always wanted too, that’s how much I believed in his stories. But I knew I would have to fight him for every little change I made to his outlines. Sorry, honey, but they had to be done. So, I pulled out the box of stories, dusted them off, and started on a new adventure: The World of Self-Publishing. Boy, did I have a lot to learn. I finally published several short stories early in 2014, then my horror novella, It Lives in the Basement. While I was working on them, I was slowly learning the craft of writing, and getting The Secret of Excalibur ready for publication. Excalibur was my favorite story of them all, and in the back of my mind, I knew I wanted a publisher. One day on Twitter, I ran across a tweet from Creativia Publishing, and that was another game changer for me. I signed up with them in December of 2014, and it was the best decision I’ve made. One thing I’ve discovered on my new adventure, are all the really awesome and talented Indie Authors. If you find the right community of Indie Authors, all they want to do is help each other. I found that I love promoting them and their books, so that’s how I setup my blog. For readers to meet Indie Authors. Anyway, enough about me. Here’s all my contact information: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/booksbysaharafoley Twitter: https://twitter.com/SaharaFoley Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/saharafoley/ Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+SaharaFoley/posts Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Sahara-Foley/e/B00J9ST32U/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
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2 Responses to #Comingsoon: The Revenge of Excalibur

  1. Hi, Sahara. I would like to thank you for all the help and encouragement you’ve given me. I appreciate that you are visiting my blog and ‘liking’ my posts as well as your endorsement of Creativia, whom I am now working with. The Wolves of Vimar is going to be re-launched. At the moment we’re working on a new cover. I’ve taken your point and removed much of the back-story. I was a little concerned that first part was a little overlong and didn’t get to the story quickly enough.

    Anyway, thanks. I’m delighted there is to be another part of Excaliber and am looking forward to reading it.

    • Sahara Foley says:

      I’m glad you’re working with Creativia. I think they are awesome, and they do wonderful book covers. I can’t wait to read the second book in the series. Once I get done with second Excalibur book, I will be re-writing the first one. I know I can make it so much better. Thank you for stopping by my blog. 🙂

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