Sarai Read online

  NAFERI TALES, BOOK 1

  SARAI

  JARLI GREY

  Sarai

  Copyright © 2019 Jarli Grey

  Published by Painted Hearts Publishing

  Smashwords Edition

  About the eBook You Have Purchased

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  Sarai

  Copyright © 2019 Jarli Grey

  ISBN 10: 1-946379-57-3

  ISBN 13: 978-1-946379-57-3

  Publication Date: June 6, 2019

  Author: Jarli Grey

  Editor: Susan Scott

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2019 by Painted Hearts Publishing

  Cover Design by E Keith

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Chapter One

  JAMIE TIGHTENED THE FENCE WIRE, tying it off firmly before dropping the tensioner on the ground and stepping back. He ran a grubby hand over his sweaty brow before glancing upwards and frowning.

  Good god above, what hellacious weather was this? One minute, a perfect summer’s day; the next, a storm that looked like the inside of a witch’s cauldron, black-green roiling clouds limned with the electric blue of distant lightening.

  Dammit, the last thing they needed at this point was heavy rainfall — sayonara the wheat crop drying in the fields.

  Still, maybe it wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t heard any thunder so the storm was still some distance from the farm he shared with his brothers. Maybe those strange clouds would blow away to the south. He’d check the long-range weather forecast when he got home. If necessary, he’d call Matt and Theo so they could get the harvester out and start hauling the grain in.

  Farming. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

  Anyway, it was past time to get home. He picked up the tools lying at his feet and loaded them into the metal box welded onto the back of his truck. Fixing this run of fencing had taken all afternoon, but he’d done a good job, even if he did say so himself.

  He was reaching for the door handle of his utility when a long, mournful howl rolled down from the nearby hills, pouring into the darkness lengthening under the trees, echoing hollowly across the fields. The smile faded from Jamie’s lips. A wolf? That wasn’t possible, not here, there were no wolves here. He stood still for a moment, listening for the howl to sound again, then shook his head. Nah, couldn’t be a wolf, probably a dog, lost perhaps or feral. A lost dog wasn’t a problem; a feral one would have to be trapped before it got into his neighbor’s sheep. He’d call Glynn when he got back and suggest they get together to organize things.

  The howl sounded again. This time it wasn’t mournful but…predatory, as if the wolf — the dog, he corrected himself — had scented something to hunt. He shivered, goose bumps pocking the exposed flesh of his arms and face. The hair at the back of his neck prickled, but when he turned around to spot the cause of his discomfort, he couldn’t see anything.

  Shadows that minutes before had seemed harmless and beautiful, an ethereal blending of then and now, there and here, had turned into pools of darkness hiding monsters waiting to pounce.

  A loud rustling in the bushes to his left made Jamie jump. He grunted impatiently. Geez, it was just a bird, heading off to its nighttime roost in a frantic whirr of feathers. Not a wolf — just his overactive imagination making him antsy about ordinary nighttime sounds.

  Still, the feeling of a day well spent had dissipated and he just wanted to get home. He was ready for a hot shower, a hot meal, some reading and then bed.

  Bed. Alone. Unfortunately. He’d been too busy to go clubbing, despite his brothers” and Glynn’s many suggestions. No clubbing meant not meeting anyone, which meant he spent a lot of his time awake alone in his bed reacquainting himself with his palm.

  Another howl-roar sounded, this time further away; then another, away to the right, where the national park met the farm’s southern boundary. More than one dog, it seemed.

  Jamie shook his head. He’d call Glynn as soon as he got in, for sure. He climbed into his truck, hand reaching for the keys in the ignition. The engine turned over and he pushed the accelerator as hard as he dared; no sense in rolling the truck just because his imagination was playing tricks on him.

  ______________________________

  THE FARMHOUSE WAS never locked; people were always coming and going, but now, with dusk falling so quickly, the place seemed ominously empty.

  Jamie toed his boots off in the mudroom and went into the kitchen. Where was everyone? A note pinned to the fridge with a magnet announced that Matt and Theo had headed to the pub. Jamie grinned…maybe he’d ignore his tiredness and join them instead of going to bed, but first…time to call Glynn, then a shower. He risked a quick sniff of his underarms…god, he stank like a navvy after working outside in the heat all day.

  He lifted the phone from its cradle and pressed the hot key for Glynn’s number.

  It rang three times then the answering machine came on. Jamie waited patiently for the beep before obediently leaving his message.

  “Hey Glynn, it’s Jamie…listen, mate, I was out in our south field, fixing the fence that washed out, and I heard two or three dogs, they’re probably ferals so you may need —”

  A tremendous thump against the door behind him had him spinning around. “Shit! What the hell …”

  He dropped the phone, not sure whether he should run to bolt the door or head for the gun cabinet. The door, his startled brain urged him, the door!

  His body, hesitating for a nanosecond, finally obeyed his brain and he raced across the kitchen and into the mudroom. Whatever was out there was hitting the door so hard it was bulging inwards. The rarely used old-fashioned bolt was stiff and slightly warped, but Jamie, hands shaking, got it across. Just as one piece of metal slid under the other, the door began opening as if pushed by a great weight.

  Shit, shit, shit…what the fuck was going on?

  ______________________________

  ALEKYN STUDIED the moving red images. “Five heat signatures heading for a single location. Two Zill, and …,” he swore softly, “three Keinyn, by the size of the signatures.”

  Bram, his third officer, confirmed his reading. “They’re hunting?”

  “Looks like it. They’re spread out, moving fast — definitely targeting something. Get Eled and Tig over here now.”

  The other members of his pard joined them and together they headed fast towards a collection of buildings now showing on his com-screen. Primitive transport devices that Alekyn knew from his studies were powered by fossil fuels — he was amazed to see such old technology in operation — were parked near various outbuildings, most of which smelled of organic matter, animals…

  He wondered briefly what type of creatures were farmed on this world. Not that it mattered — they were here to track the Zill, not go ex
ploring, no matter how tempting the prospect.

  “They’re after something inside that building,” Bram gestured towards a larger structure that was lit from within.

  Alekyn nodded briefly, concentrating on tactics. He’d think about what the Zill and their Keinyn companions were doing after they’d been contained.

  The building Bram indicated had three entrances and a number of rooms. As they came closer, their scanners picked up a sixth heat signature, this time one within the building.

  “That’s the target,” Bram announced. “Five forms are entering the building through one access point. Their objective seems to be located here …”

  He stabbed a long finger on a pictogram of a room towards the front of the building.

  “Let’s move,” Alekyn ordered, “fast and furious.”

  Eled sniffed. “I smell smoke.”

  Alekyn nodded grimly. It looked as if the Zill were firing the dwelling’s rear entrance. Maybe whatever had been trapped in the building was resisting…there was a sudden explosion and the light within the building suddenly disappeared, replaced by red flames sparking upwards to the building’s roof. Silhouetted against the fire, he could see the Zill following the Keinyn through what was left of the entrance.

  He unsheathed the long blade he wore strapped to his back; holding it in one hand, he pulled a stunner from his side holster and charged forward. He could hear Tig and the rest of his unit — his pard — close behind him.

  They split up closer to the building. He and Eled swung left heading towards the small room Bram had shown them. He raised his stunner and fired at the window, hearing glass shatter before he dived through the opening.

  ______________________________

  WHATEVER WAS OUT THERE was definitely not something Jamie wanted inside with him. He backed slowly out of the mudroom, mesmerized by the now wildly shaking door. Small bits of wood had begun to break off around the hinges. It was only a matter of time before the door was smashed to pieces. He could hear someone whimpering and realised it was himself.

  Then the pounding stopped and something chittered…like an insect, he thought, confusedly shaking his head, almost like cicadas shrilling in early summer, but discordant with a weird metallic undertone.

  It was worse than the pounding — it wasn’t something he knew, wasn’t something he could rationalize. His heart was racing, his body shaking.

  Then it got worse. Small lines of light appeared on all sides of the door. He could smell burning. Something clicked loudly and he heard growling. The pounding stopped and he sensed large bodies moving away from the door. His breath caught sharply as he was struck by sudden understanding.

  They were going to blow the door open.

  In a few seconds, the old oak door was going to be gone and whatever was out there would soon be in here, with him. He was pretty damn sure he didn’t want to be around to see that happen because judging by the chittering, the growls and sounds of claws scraping the exterior door, those things were nothing human.

  He remembered to breathe again and sucked in a panicked breath…nothing human? What was he thinking? Of course they were nothing human! They sounded like they were nothing bloody earthly…and they definitely weren’t a pack of feral dogs. Dogs didn’t behave like this.

  He couldn’t just stand here philosophizing or within seconds he’d be sharing space with whatever they were. As if a switch had been flicked in his head, he turned and ran from the kitchen and down the hallway, slamming doors behind him, hoping to delay whatever was coming for him.

  The gun locker was in his dad’s study. Once inside, he locked the door and pulled a couch against it. Then he turned his attention to the locker itself, trying frantically to remember the combination.

  A loud explosion sounded, rocking the old house, and he knew with grim certainty the mudroom door was gone. Hell, it sounded like half the kitchen had gone with it. His attackers were now in the building with him.

  He could tell by the roars and howls that they were closing in on his hiding spot. The study door was struck, the couch in front of it actually moving with the force of the blow.

  Another sound, rhythmic and with the odd cadence of speech, drowned out the other sounds. Chittering again, he thought, chittering — and for some reason an image of enormous mandibles clicking metallically together popped into his head. He swore, took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand.

  Open the locker, Jamie-boy, open this damn thing and get the shotgun out, c’mon man, concentrate. Fuck, concentrate!

  He forced his ragged breathing to calm…it seemed to take forever, but then success — the combination lock clicked, the door swung open.

  He grabbed a shotgun and some shells, dropping a couple in his haste. He glanced at the window, wondering if he could get outside and lose his attackers in the dark.

  Then he nearly pissed himself in shock.

  In the fading light, he could see something moving at speed toward the window. For what seemed like forever, he stood like a loon with the gun half-loaded and hanging in his hand. So much for escaping.

  His shaking hands were loading more shells into the shotgun, independently of his brain, which seemed to have shut down in terror.

  He didn’t consciously lift the shotgun to his shoulder, didn’t realize he was lining up a target even as he was peering down the gun sight.

  Whatever was coming towards the window wasn’t a dog. That fast-approaching shadowy figure was bigger than any damn dog…even if he couldn’t see it distinctly, its general shape was man-sized, huge man-sized. And like nothing he’d ever seen before.

  The chittering behind him had become frenzied. Then more howling, the sound of something hitting the barricaded door hard. He flinched, and spun back to the study door, which was now glowing blue around its edges. The couch was burning, black tendrils of smoke curling upwards. He didn’t know what to aim for — the door, the window? — so he tracked his weapon between both, knowing it was only a question of seconds before something managed to get to him.

  The buzzing reached a crescendo, then the superheated door melted away; the couch was now completely ablaze. In the ruined doorway stood something huge, something all sharp edges and points, sickly yellow and dull black.

  Dark eyes, devoid of expression, peered at him through the whirling smoke. Jamie felt his jaw drop, wanted to scream, but could only moan in terror. Wasp, he thought numbly, a wasp walking upright on segmented legs that angled obscenely, a double set of what were, for want of a better word, arms protruding from a rounded thorax…and mandibles…he’d been right about the mandibles — there they were, metallic-looking, with ridges of keratin smacking harshly together as the insect thing clicked out orders to the creature slavering beside it, something that looked like a cross between a man and a wolf. Whatever the hell it was — Jamie could see claws, really big claws, flexing and swiping furiously in the smoky air, as if it wanted to tear him apart. His own reflexes trumped his stunned brain’s lack of action; he squeezed the shotgun’s trigger. The explosion knocked him back, his head connecting with something hard.

  The wasp thing and its wolf-like companion had fallen backwards through the door, but another wolf was even now prowling towards him, saliva dripping from jaws full of large and very sharp fangs. Another wolf pressed hard upon its heels.

  Jamie huddled where he’d fallen against the gun cabinet. There was nowhere to run, nothing to do. He grasped the shotgun tightly, hoping at least to be able to hit something, to go down fighting, not frightened and screaming…

  A noise at the window made him turn, desperate. Whatever was outside was raising something that glowed green then blue. The window shattered, shards of glass exploding inwards. The fire in the doorway back-drafted as fresh oxygen reached it, and the room exploded into flame and fury. Whatever, whoever, had been outside was now charging through the window; it seemed to spin in mid-air, then landed on its feet and fired a beam of blue light at the things now clambering over the c
ouch and heading towards him.

  Jamie caught a glimpse of brilliant blue eyes and tawny-brown hair streaked with gold as the creature leapt toward the wolves at the door.

  He blinked hard; stinging tears pouring down his cheeks. What his smoke-blinded eyes were trying to tell his brain could not be true. It was a cat, he thought incredulously. A frigging catman wearing some kind of dark leather, a shiny gun-like weapon in one hand, a long silver blade in the other — like a samurai.

  He stared, shaking his head. He’d gone mad, he decided, totally barking, la-la-land mad. Nothing else could explain what was happening. The shotgun he clasped still felt real, though, so dammit, time to fight again.

  He raised the weapon and blindly aimed it before firing. He hoped like hell he’d hit something, anything. If he survived this, he wanted proof, and a dead wolf-thing or cat-thing would be ample evidence he was not insane.

  Something grunted — he’d no idea what and at this point, he thought, staring at the ceiling, where smoke roiled and curled in tendrils of choking grey, it really didn’t matter. Too much longer trapped here and he was going to asphyxiate. He began to crawl toward the window. All he needed was to get out into the fresh air, get to one of the trucks …

  Something struck him forcefully in the side and he rolled over, gasping at the pain, one hand grabbing at his ribs. God, it felt like a couple of them were broken.

  Whatever had hit him turned its head briefly toward him as it barreled forward. Another catman, he realised, watching it leap the couch, heading through the door into the darkened, smoke-filled hallway.

  They were taking out the wolf-things, he suddenly realised. There was no sign of the wasps; maybe the heat had sent them packing? Although his vision was fading, he could see flashes of light piercing the choking black smoke, like scenes from old wartime movies in which searchlights tracked enemy planes. Something heavy hit the floor, and he heard agonized screaming and the smell of something even more pungent and unpleasant than the smoke.