Fort Jafra: Beware the Rae Jungle

By Jill Mallory and Raymond Duane

A cataclysmic upheaval shakes Earth to its foundation, cracking continents and killing millions. Dragons and other mythological creatures are set free to roam again a world that was once theirs. Magic is everywhere, and tied to a talisman called the Amulet, whose power controls magic, for love or hate, depending on who possesses it. An evil sorcerer arises and makes a bid to not only subdue all of humanity, but the monsters of legend as well. Only one person can possibly stop him. All Elethia ever wanted was a loving family and to practice her gift of healing, for people and the animals she cherished. But it's blood connections she hadn't known existed that thrust her into a fight for her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jill Mallory
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005296728

Book preview

Fort Jafra:

Beware the Rae Jungle

Jill Mallory & Raymond Duane

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2022 © Jill Mallory & Raymond Duane

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit your favorite ebook retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Fort Jafra:

Beware the Rae Jungle

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Authors

Beginnings

In Long Beach, California, a young couple rushed in their car on Atlantic Avenue to the hospital. She was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl, and she urged her husband to hurry.

From under the street far below, fissures that started in the depths of the planet forced themselves to the surface, huge, invisible fists bursting through asphalt and concrete, shattering the horizon, opening the way for geysers of molten rock. Then a release of eons-old creatures thought to be only of myths and legends. Beasts came forth around the world, like the planet was a great terra firma egg. They cracked it taking their first surface breaths.

The emergence of nature's new world order shattered Atlantic Avenue. Trapped inside the car, the young couple fell screaming into an abyss, four hands clutching her belly.

By chance of fate – but mystics decry happenstance – a certain dragon coming up heard the screams going down. He listened to his tender heart, as many dragons do, and he caught the strange boxy thing from which the pleas came and took it with him to the surface. He landed near a huge pile of rubble that had been the hospital and peered inside the thing at two small, helpless creatures.

The dragon knew what pregnancy was and felt the atmosphere of childbirth. He watched as the male helped the female out of the box. They stumbled away. A bird-like beast with an extraordinary wingspan swooped down and swallowed the male for its first meal in its new home. The flying predator circled back to eat the other morsel.

The dragon swatted away the attacker with its tail and stood over the pregnant female, roaring a warning for all to come no closer. The dragon and the woman locked eyes for a moment. His kindly aura gave her a sense of relief. She knew her children would be safe. For the dragon, fascination over the secret of birth focused his attention. His great muscles flexed in readiness against interruption. Neither of them knew they were forever linked to the birth of the two most important humans of the New Age.

The male newborn came first, followed by his sister, and they embraced, knowing each other. Their mother pulled them close to her heart and kissed them each on the head. She beseeched the dragon for help with a defiant, motherly look, and then helplessly succumbed to her injuries.

The dragon, unfamiliar with human birth, did realize the infants should be separated from their dead mother. He pinched off the fleshy connection with the tips of two claws, but the babies stopped breathing and appeared ready to die.

Not knowing what else to do, he breathed dragon breath into their tiny lungs, for he did know that he, like all dragons, possessed great healing powers and other gifts of magic.

The dragon didn't realize that in his haste to save the newborns he had unwisely given magic to humans and in the process planted a bad seed.

Chapter 1

Elethia parted company with the ship's doctor, who again thanked her for invaluable assistance in the clinic, and wobbled her way down the gangplank. Her legs had not yet adapted from rolling sea to steady land, and her limbs resisted demands they move in a straight line. She gripped the railing for support and watched as ships laden with textiles, food and fuel docked and dispersed their precious cargo at Port Kandla, on the west side of India in the Gulf of Kutch. The country's busiest port was made even more so by being one of the continent's few anchorages that survived the earthquakes.

India's vast inland range of terrain, and the famous Himalayas had stood proud against the tremors, but local survivors felt a difference in the air. They sensed in the horizon that everything changed, but had somehow stayed the same, a perspective that only old hearts could explain.

When she reached the bottom of the ramp and stepped off, Elethia was jostled back and forth by busy workers. The attendant seaside dock odor of old water, oil and seaweed hit her nose first. Then pungent food smells from street vendors. Horse and elephant dung. The blended aroma assaulted her senses as she had to wade against the tide of sweaty human labor. Beyond the workers, she could see groups of unfamiliar faces waiting to greet friends and loved ones coming off the old ship.

Stewart Heatherton, backer of the expedition she had embarked on, was supposed to greet her, but remained conspicuously absent. She had never met the man, except through letters and pictures. As she loitered among the crowd and surveyed the many faces, she caught sight of her name scrawled on a piece of cardboard waved by a local fellow with a mouth full of white teeth, a sharp contrast to the olive skin.

Miss Connelly? Are you Miss Elethia Connelly? he asked and flashed a blinding smile.

Elethia nodded and reached out her hand. The young man shook it vigorously, I'm Rashid. Stewart sent me to meet you. He sends his apologies for not doing so himself, something about a shipment not arriving on time. Do you have luggage?

Elethia nodded her head and they walked over to where the luggage was being debarked. She cringed at the way it was thrown onto the dock.

An older boy from a ragtag group of kids snatched one of her suitcases and ran. Rashid took off like a sprinter. He pushed the thief on the shoulder and knocked him down. The boy got up laughing and ran off.

With Rashid apologizing for the criminal until Elethia had to make him stop, they managed to gather up her remaining pieces and loaded them on the old jeep Rashid arrived in.

Wow, can't believe I'm here. This has always been a dream of mine, and it's now a reality thanks to Stewart.

Thanks to you, Rashid said. Stewart is needful of someone with your understanding of medicine and animal husbandry. Since he heard about you, he would have no other. You have no idea how excited he is that you are here. He will be expecting you for dinner, so you have time to get refreshed.

Elethia thought, 'He's not excited enough to come out to greet me,' and then to Rashid, There are not too many humanitarians who want to work to save the animals. With all the damage in the world, it is not the priority that most feel the way I do. It was kind of a shock to get the offer to come here, all the way from America. No way I was going to turn down an offer like that.

Rashid grinned. They bounced over potholes and splashed up puddles of muddy water as he sailed the sturdy utility vehicle through town. Elethia was wary, but wholeheartedly enjoyed the recklessness of Rashid's driving as they weaved through vendors and street urchins. Some little time later, they pulled up outside Hotel Rama, swank and regal, and courtesy of her benefactor. Elethia was eager to get inside, take a bath, and meet with Stewart. Rashid shouted for service and a bellhop rushed over, bowed to her, put bags on a cart and escorted her to her room. She was surprised she didn't have to check in. The room was a suite, with a wet bar and a view of the main street. Fans gyrated on the ceiling, easing the pervasive heat. The bellhop showed her how to use the gravity dependent toilet and tub, refused a tip.

Mr. Heatherton has provided greatly, He smiled wide, and left her to get ready, shutting the door.

When she finished her toilet, she dressed as business-like as she could and still stay comfortable in the heat. She would need a new wardrobe, and hoped that her benefactor would spring for it. He had written that he would supply all she needed, but she didn't know the veracity of that claim.

She wondered, not for the first time, if he were a man of his word. The little she had been able to find out about him outside his letters, which was not much at all, other than the basics from articles in newspapers, which had once again become the major source of news in the world, told her that Stewart Heatherton the Third was an accomplished businessman and somewhat of an animal preservationist. Having taken his inheritance from a family of immense land holdings within India, including mineral deposits and a freshwater lake – the driving forces of the new era's economic engine. He had turned to a humanitarian bent, a formerly privileged conscience suffering a sudden attack of social obligation, to save his miserable soul. Or so she had read. One of the veterinarians she had worked with once met Heatherton at an environmental conference and found him to be welcoming and sincere. So she wasn't traveling blind, but it felt like it.

She went down to the bar, found a table from which she could watch the entrance and ordered a sweet black tea with brandy. The bartender was generous with the alcohol and she soon found herself delightfully light-headed, the after-effects of the arduous voyage beginning to ease. Staying in the wealthy atmosphere of the luxury hotel, an establishment far beyond her meager means, and most anyone else left in the world, was a guilty pleasure. She didn't know how long her conscience would let her enjoy it.

Feeling expansive, she ordered another drink, hoping Stewart wasn't a teetotaler.

Your libation, Madame, a rather round man, not a member of the hotel staff, presenting her drink and sitting down across from her. I'm Maldwyn Smith, with a smile. You're Elethia Connelly.

Another one of Stewart's men? Elethia was less irritated than she sounded.

After a fashion.

The uninvited guest was a hefty man, who carried the extra weight with aplomb, and with a confidence that showed in his beginning-to-age features that he had earned the right to think highly of himself. I'm a writer, going along to document the expedition. It's not every day one gets to see a dragon. There's supposed to be thousands, maybe millions of the things, and no one sees them, except grizzled hunters in the north.

Hunters? Elethia didn't hide her disdain.

Hey, hunters are people of the forest. They respect nature, the wilderness, the animals, far more than city people, at least that's the way it's always been, and not even a hundred earthquakes could change that.

You hunt?

Not dragons, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't, sipping from a martini glass Elethia hadn't noticed he brought with him. My great-great-grandfather survived the quakes in Eastern Oregon. He had been living off the land, knew the forest and mountains, and had survival skills. And hunting was a way to stay alive. He taught his son, who taught his son, and so on until me.

You've taught your son? Mocking him."

No. Unmarried and childless. Like you, with that attitude.

A strange man sits at my table, and insults me. How am I supposed to act?

You could buy him a drink, smiled.

Who are you?

A writer covering Heatherton's latest quest to save the animals. He cares less about people, I think. Maybe not. Maybe I'm being mean for effect. Let's start over. We're going to be traveling companions, you know. We might as well get along.

He was, he explained, writing a book about Stewart Heatherton. Not a biography. More a year in the life type of thing. He didn't tell her he was more interested in her, and he was eager to find out more for quite a different story.

Elethia looked at the intruder appraisingly. Wide forehead, strong nose (a Roman nose, she decided), full lips, jutting chin, and short-cropped blonde hair. Taken individually, nothing special, but all together, the picture was agreeable, and even more so with the piercing hazel eyes. Stewart didn't mention that he was going to have a writer tagging along. How long will you be with our group? Are you assigned or independent?

Well, ah, that depends on the dragon, so to speak. To answer your questions, I work independently but I will be selling articles to newspapers in addition to writing a book for my own purposes. I am interested in how he attempts to track the dragon and what he plans to do after he finds it. Maldwyn laughed. Should be fascinating, though it's rumored that his efforts are not so humanitarian as monetary. Huge market now for dragon parts, scales, eyes, tails and such. He leaned back in his chair and watched Elethia for a reaction.

'Been here less than five minutes and already trying to provoke me,' Elethia thought, trying to show no outward reaction to Maldwyn's statements. It's a good thing then that you are here to keep an eye on our little group of adventurers, lest we up and establish a booming trade of dragon parts. I hear dragon scales make excellent combs, with a small amount of irritation apparent in her voice. The damned part was, that no matter his abrasive demeanor, something about Maldwyn she found attractive. And I wouldn't think that Stewart cared that much about money.

I suppose not, but perhaps it's true that you can never have too much.

Stewart isn't a hunter.

Not with a gun. He wants to see one, take pictures. Going to preserve the spectacle for humanity.

It sounds like you don't like Stewart.

Don't know him.

I thought you were writing a book about him.

Have to start somewhere. I met him in London several weeks ago, at a cocktail party. We talked, seemed an okay fellow, and a few days later I got an invitation to a join this party, which is an entirely different affair, isn't it?

Are you writing a book about Stewart?

But he doesn't know it yet. He smiled a look that grated on Elethia and softened her at the same time. He hired me as a consultant.

A consultant? On what?

Dragon. Maldwyn was amused at Elethia's line of inquiry. Perhaps you've read a book called 'The Arrival.' He judged her silence. No, I suppose not. That's all right. Few have. It's been a while since any one cared about writing. There are a lot of people in this new world that can't read and don't even know what a book is.

I know what a book is. Elethia knew of Maldwyn's book, but hadn't placed his name. At the moment, she didn't want to give him any satisfaction. What's yours about?

The history of dragons.

But you've never seen one.

It's a reference book, like an encyclopedia. I'm adding to it, a second edition is coming, and Stewart has agreed to let me use some artwork. I've done a lot of research all over the world, going to places where people saw them, and recording stories. I've even been to a place called Bullhead, in Arizona, on the edge of what used to be California. The largest coming of dragons happened in a place called Long Beach in what was California. It doesn't exist anymore.

Elethia had no knowledge of where she was born so long ago, but something about what he was saying felt familiar, and it connected in her with her own desire to see a dragon, not for curiosity like Stewart, but something deeper she couldn't quite understand. She was not only going to see a dragon, she was going to meet one, she had a feeling, and the distinction was important to her, for some reason.

Anyway, dragons can mean big money to be made.

Elethia thought that an odd word, money. It didn't fit with water, land and jewels, and no one was printing it anymore. Great fortunes that had been based on cash and investments still held power, but after the quakes, no one cared about paper money, not even the so-called New World Government, led by the surviving elite of what had been the most powerful countries. They grouped together in what was left of Washington DC, and were supported by still loyal military leaders.

The race was on for resources, more pillage of the Earth for survival and dominance. It struck Elethia that those kind of people were the kind who would hunt dragons, and not with a camera. She hoped there wouldn't be too many of such people on the trip.

She realized that she didn't know all that much about the expedition she had so enthusiastically agreed to join. Who were these people?

How many others are there?

Oh, fifty or sixty, I'd say.

That many? Elethia worried. What type are they?

Hey, we're going places no one has been for a long time, and it's dragon country, not to forget all the other beasties. I don't think dragons are a threat, most of them, but I'm glad we have those types along.

What types?

The kind that want to kill dragons. I hear that a big, juicy dragon steak is excellent with martinis. He finished his martini with an elaborate gesture.

I'm not sure I like you, Mr. Smith.

Maldwyn smiled and was about to retort when a firm hand landed on his shoulder. Ah, you must be Elethia Connelly. I'm Stewart Heatherton. I see you've had the pleasure of meeting our writer Maldwyn. Naturally, he's here with the most beautiful woman in the room.

Stewart spoke without hint of romantic interest, a man appraising a woman, and the statement was truthful enough. At least Maldwyn agreed with it. He had an appreciation for tall, physical women, and he loved all that long hair, like a magnet to his fingers, and something about the way her blue eyes blinked. Morse code to his heart.

Hello, Stewart, not hiding his disappointment that his time with the pretty Elethia had been interrupted. He extended his hand and they shook.

Then Stewart brought Elethia's hand to below his lips, a gallant gesture. Maldwyn frowned at the courtesy, but nodded his head toward Stewart.

My apologies for the lost time, my dear. Stewart joined them, sitting stiffly across the table. The world doesn't run as efficiently as I like, if it ever did. Trying to run a business sometimes interferes with the pleasures of life.

Elethia smiled and felt relieved that Stewart gave her someone else to focus on besides the irritating reporter. She judged Stewart's demeanor as guarded and his physicality was soccer rather than rugby. A genuine friendliness emanated from his angular face, and his reflective brown eyes often twinkled when he smiled. He had a sense of humor, with a wit so dry it often seemed he couldn't get his tongue off the roof of his mouth.

Drinks are in order, Stewart announced in a heavy British accent. He waved a server over and Elethia ordered her third tea and brandy. Maldwyn ordered another martini with extra olives and Stewart champagne. A toast to new beginnings and high adventure –

To dangers untold and damsels in distress, Maldwyn finished.

They held their glasses high and clinked together, each smiling and thinking upon the coming journey.

After an amazing dinner, ayurvedic according to Stewart, Elethia weaved her way to her suite. It seemed like she had sea legs again. When she got inside, she found a parcel had been placed on the suite's desk. She ripped open the wrapping to discover a box of chocolates. She exhaled with a little moan of pleasure. Chocolates were rare and expensive. She popped one in her mouth, savoring its richness, as she read the attached card.

My dear Elethia, I apologize again for keeping you waiting. I hope this box of confections helps in some way make up for my faux pas. They are from a Heatherton holding in Ghana. We are known for the purity and excellence of the cacao we produce. I hope it meets with your approval.

Elethia chewed happily as she read the rest: Soon we will begin our intrepid journey, one which I hope will enlighten the world as to the place and influence dragons have on it, and selfishly, my own pleasure in participating in the revelation. I look forward to our association and will do all in my power to make you feel this was the right decision. On that note, at 8 a.m. tomorrow, a tailor scheduled to measure you for the proper clothes and footwear for our trek. – I remain cordially yours, Stewart.

The chocolate was exquisite, the best she'd ever had. She greedily ate three pieces while reading the letter, and had to read it again because she was so distracted by the richness of the sweets. The rest she jealously guarded in her luggage. No errant cleaning staff was going to sneak one away from her.

Eight a.m. caught Elethia still in bed with a sizable hangover, already sweating from the morning heat. A knock on the door rolled her out of bed to answer.

She put on a plush robe, which had been through a lot of wear, having been shared by numerous guests through the years. Manufacturing of clothes other than for necessity had not yet caught up after the quakes. Maldwyn Smith stood beyond the door.

You're not a tailor. Elethia walked back to flop on the bed, leaving the door open.

No, but I bring what the doctor ordered, and presented two tall bar glasses filled with a red liquid. He took a drink from his glass. Tasty and the perfect defense for what's going on in your head.

Forget my head, Elethia groaned. My stomach won't take it. Go away. Get out.

Good morning to you, too, affecting a hurt posture.

I didn't invite you.

But I'm here, and with the cure for what ails you. Drink up, and then we'll get you outfitted. I've arranged things, and then afterward we'll have a nice lunch.

Elethia groaned. Oh go away and leave me alone.

Come on, Maldwyn insisted. Drink this. You'll feel better.

What is it? Elethia didn't want anything to do with whatever he was offering.

You know how much trouble I went to get this for you?

Bribe the bartender?

No trouble, now that I think about it, but I did have to give instructions. He pushed the glass toward her. Tomato juice, slice of lemon, celery powder, Worcestershire, pepper, honey, and vodka.

That looks like cabbage leaf sticking out.

Excellent enzymes for headaches. Romans used to eat a bunch of it so they could drink more.

What's the vodka for?

Add a little energy. And it doesn't taste right without it.

The aroma of the drink was sweet and the ice clinking in the glass beckoned her. The room was hot, and she felt horrible. She grudgingly took the glass, which felt welcomingly cool in her hand, and took a hesitant sip. Tasted fine and cold. She took a big drink.

Alcohol burned its way down her throat and her forehead broke out in a sweat. She turned to bawl out Maldwyn, but noticed that her head and stomach started to settle. Elethia took another drink, a patient finding the right medicine. An amused Maldwyn looked on.

That's my girl. You'll be up and at them in no time.

A combination of embarrassment and alcohol caused Elethia to flush, which she hid by turning away from Maldwyn as she stood. A moment please, she choked out.

In the bathroom, she splashed cool water on her face in-between sipping the drink. She then dressed in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blouse and re-emerged to face off against Maldwyn. She found him reclining on her bed with her prized box of chocolates in front of him. Hey! Keep your mitts off my chocolates. I put those away. How did you get them?

It's called investigative journalism, he quipped. Eyeing a promising candy, he plucked it from the box and situated it on the tip of his tongue. Lucky girl. Stewart didn't give me chocolates. Must be sweet on you.

Elethia ran over, grabbed the box out of Maldwyn's hands and stowed it back where she hid it – after taking