Tropical Dragons Series Box Set: Venys Needs Men: Books 1-3 with Exclusive Short Story

by Lucas, Naomi

  “Really?”

  “Remember to watch out for quicksand pits, tracks, and spiderwebs,” I remind her, putting my hands on her shoulders and turning her around.

  Haime grasps her spear in both hands, stepping away. “Yes, yes!” She looks at me over her shoulder. “I will get us home safely, Auntie Milly.”

  My smile grows. “I know you will. Listen to the trees and the sounds of the jungle. And no running!” I yell, but she’s already skipping away. “Don’t forget to check above for snakes and cats!”

  My ears ring with her laughter as she vanishes into the brush. Glancing once more at the tree, I expel the last of my worry and take off after her.

  We walk for a while, and I point out tracks and plants as we go. Though we’re trying to make good time, I can’t pass up a teaching opportunity. Under my instruction, Haime forages the Lulia Moss we come across. It makes an excellent tea. I also show her an old cockatrice nest we stumble upon, the mother and chicks having long departed. Haime takes a cracked egg and stores it in her satchel to show her sister later.

  The darkening sky doesn’t deter us… yet. Neither do the squawking birds that rise from the trees and fly inland, nor the ever-increasing thunder. Scanning the jungle, it comforts me to find thick tangles of vines. I know these trees like I know my ability to take down the prey that resides within them.

  “Milly,” Haime calls as she steps over a log. “How close do you think we are from home?”

  “Why don’t you guess?”

  “I can’t tell when we’re in the jungle! Can’t we head to the shore?”

  “No. I told you that the crocodiles are breeding—” A low hissing sound cuts me off. “Haime, don’t move!”

  She stops, turning to me.

  I hold my finger to my lips and her little eyes go wide. The hissing gets louder, as I shift my spear to my right hand and slowly pull the dagger from my belt. Haime takes a step toward me as I quietly move to her side. She gently sets down her satchel and brandishes her smaller spear.

  “It’s a naga,” I tell her. Nagas roam the Forbidden Jungle and are perilous when cornered. They’re worse if they have eggs nearby, for then they set up defenses to protect themselves and their nesting grounds. But this wasn’t a nesting ground. I’m sure of it. I only hear one hiss amongst the foliage.

  “Not a snake?” Haime whispers.

  “Listen to the inflection. It’s deep, raspy. Snakes don’t sound like that.” The hissing is close by and getting closer, coming from a grouping of large bushes ahead of us. I motion for Haime to keep backing up until she’s behind me. The leaves rustle, and I brace for the naga’s appearance. Highly intelligent—debatably even sentient—an adult naga could sometimes be reasoned with. With an offering of meat. “If it attacks, Haime, I want you to run. Understand?”

  “I can help,” she whines.

  “No, not against an adult.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.”

  The rustling grows louder, and Haime falls silent. Twigs snap, and a frog scurries out from under the bush. I’m holding my breath as the branches part and the gleam of dark eyes appears between the leaves. Solid black, they stare at us. They’re small, I realize, my brow furrowing.

  The hissing heightens, and the bush shifts to reveal the naga entirely—a youngling. A male youngling, due to the lack of breasts. His tail slides forward and lashes out in warning. There’s fear etched across the boy’s dirty face.

  I lower my weapon. “Are you alone, little one?”

  He bares his teeth and snaps at me.

  I take a step forward, free palm extended, disarming. “It’s okay,” I coo. Peering about, I don’t find any sign of adult nagas with him.

  “Milly, what’s going on? Is… is he okay?” Haime says.

  “I don’t know. Just stay back.” I focus on the boy, who’s pressed farther into the brush but still watching us—watching Haime. I shouldn’t try to help him, but he’s a child, no older than her, and even if he is a naga, it hurts my heart to think he’s all alone.

  “Can we help him?” Haime asks.

  Without answering, I put my dagger away and reach out to the boy. “It’s okay,” I say again. “You’re okay. We won’t hurt you.” Yet I know he could still hurt us.

  His eyes shift to me, and he hisses loudly. I take another small step forward. There is now a softness to his gaze. Perhaps he will calm—but thunder sounds and he startles.

  “No!” I cry as he slips into the bushes and vanishes.

  “Wait!” Haime runs past me and dives into the brush.

  “Haime. Stop!” But she’s already crashing through the plants ahead. I take after her as the first raindrops fall from above. “Haime! Don’t!” She doesn’t listen, doesn’t stop. My eyes dart every which way, searching everywhere for her trail.

  “Please wait!” She calls out ahead.

  “Haime!”

  Soon after the noise of pursuit stops and my trail goes dead. I scream for Haime, but she doesn’t answer, my only response to the whoosh of rain falling upon the leaves around me. No, no, no. Backtracking, I search for signs of a trail but am only led back to the thick clearing of grass and brush, the place where I’d lost my ward.

  Heart hammering, I yell for Haime again, my panic increasing by the second, turning full-circle. I swipe out my spear to push back the overgrown leaves and vines. I beg for any clue to where she’s gone. My sandals begin to stick as mud gathers at my feet. Soon, any tracks will vanish.

  The storm will wipe her trail clean.

  I scream louder, desperate for a response. I pivot again when I see it—a large cropping of mossy rocks, tucked between arching roots from a nearby tree. But it’s not the rocks that pull my attention, it’s the ancient remnants of a naga nest and the pit in the ground behind it, hidden between the rocks. I surge forward and crouch at the pit’s entrance. Has she fallen? Was the boy bait?

  “Haime!” I shout inside it. It’s deep, I realize, ducking in. Deeper than just a pit. It’s a hole—a cave entrance.

  “Milaye,” Haime calls back to me, her voice muffled from somewhere deep within. A wave of relief crashes through me. I’ve found her.

  “Haime, are you okay!? Are you hurt?”

  “The boy ran in here, but I can’t find him—I can’t see.” Her high-pitched cry is far off. “I can’t see. I can’t see!” It grows shrill.

  “Stay right there. I’m coming after you!” Setting my spear aside and pulling away from the entrance, I search for a piece of wood to light, but the rain has made its way down to drop in splats upon the underbrush. Rushing to the old naga nest, I find broken branches, concealed under the tree’s large roots. Grabbing the biggest of the branches, I tug out flint and fire moss from my pouch. By rubbing the moss at the end of the branch, I make a crude torch.

  Returning to the cave opening, I light the torch and drop to a crouch. “I’m coming,” I call out. “Don’t move!”

  Holding the torch before me, I unsheathe my dagger and descend into the cold darkness.

  2

  Drazak’s Dream

  Petrichor invades my mind. The scent of fresh rain in the air, and the feel of that rain upon my wings. It slides over my muscles and between my scales, and with it is the smell of soil. Rich soil, filled with minerals and dampened with water. It calls to me like a flame in the darkness and brings me peace.

  I am familiar with this dreamy feeling. It is one I have had countless times. So many times that the memories blend together until my life is one reverie after another. I also know somewhere, not here, it is real and more than a pleasant feeling.

  It is raining.

  My body does nothing with this knowledge, and I settle into it. I have tried and tried to hold onto more than these feelings—they only serve as a reminder of the passing of time—to no avail. It is the rain that keeps me sane… I think. It is the rain, the soil, and the damp all around me that has given me the knowledge of time. I have gone through this thousands of
times, and because of that, I know I have lain here for hundreds of years.

  I think.

  So, I have settled into this cursed life, and I wait until the day that I finally fall into true darkness from which I will not wake up again.

  Venom runs through my veins, poison, paralyzing me. An enormous injection that should have killed me long ago. Except I am an alpha dark dragon, and my body’s strength fights back death, even if I wish for it. Death does not come easy to dragons—especially dark dragons. We are resistant to it. And herein lies the humor…

  What makes me powerful and mighty has also cursed me.

  My heart pulses hard at the thought.

  The only satisfaction I have is that the poison dragon who bit me is dead. I made sure of it before I fell from the sky and crawled into this cave, planning to recover—HAH! I tore off that dragon’s head with my teeth, forcing his body down to the world as I fell. His taste still lingers in my mouth, rancid and bitter. The memory of his blood spraying across my body comforts me when insanity threatens, replacing it with glee.

  He did not take my territory.

  That is all that matters. Though sometimes I wish he had. Then perhaps my rage would give me the motivation to rise again, to tear him to shreds.

  He wanted to steal my nest.

  My territory is in a prime location… With the gulf nearby and the fertile jungle filled with creatures large enough to eat, hunger was never a worry. And with its central location, the likelihood of a femdragon in heat flying by was high.

  Fellow dragons envied my territory.

  Though whether it is still mine, I do not know. I sense other alphas now and again, but I do not know if they sense me. It is not like the rain. Alphas do not approach one another unless they are of the same blood or fighting over territory—or a mate. One has never sought me out, and so I believe my presence goes unnoticed. Surely, if one had, they would kill me and put me to rest.

  “Wait! Stop!”

  My heart weakly thumps again. Is that a voice? No. The only voices I hear are in my head. Drazak, fight the insanity.

  “Wait!”

  I hear it again. It is muffled though, as if it is coming from a distance. The voice does not sound like my thoughts, but I cannot be certain. I no longer know if I can distinguish outside sounds from those within my body.

  But then I hear it again. “Don’t run!” It is closer—and this time, there is a hissing sound. I have heard this hissing many times recently. It is not a sound I enjoy. It is soon followed by other noises though, the sound of scurrying and frantic movements.

  Something cold brushes the side of my tail, but then it is gone.

  Drazak, you have gone mad.

  “Haime… Haime!” Another voice shouts.

  It is a deeper voice than the first but not by much. Are there two beings sharing my head with me? They are speaking with each other now, and the worst part, it is in tongues. They are not speaking my language.

  I have never wished for the darkness more than I do now.

  Though one of the voices intrigues me. The second, deeper one. It is distinctly feminine. Why would a female’s voice be in my head? My ever-present frustration intensifies.

  Darkness take me!

  If I am to be cursed with the allure of a female, then I would rather be dead. She is not real, and worse yet, I cannot understand her. I have done nothing but want for eons. Want for control. Want for dominion. Want for vengeance. But this? This would be torture. I have so far been blessed with never scenting a femdragon’s heat in my cave, and the thought of that happening when I am powerless… horrifies me.

  Before I fell, I wanted a mate and dragonlings. To want them again, and still be denied, would be a terrible kind of torture, the type I do not know I could endure.

  There is a reason I fought so hard for my territory. It was not only for my pride and its location, but it was for the hope that a femdragon in heat would someday fly by and call out. I was preparing a nest… A nest I never finished but am lying in anyway. At least I know now that it is safe.

  “Stay right there. I’m coming for you!”

  My heart pulses with anticipation.

  It is getting closer, louder.

  Hope blasts through me that this, these sounds, may bring me my salvation.

  3

  Milaye in the Dark

  I crawl through dead leaves and roots before the tunnel opens up enough for me to stand. Dirt sticks to my skin from where the rain has wetted me, and I silently curse Haime’s recklessness.

  The fact that she can’t see bothers me. She’s always been able to find her way in the dark… It’s those dragon eyes. I brush off my misgivings, persuading myself it’s only because she’s deep in a cave.

  She’s my life but will be the death of me, I’m sure of it. But for now, I’m thankful, from the waters to the clouds and back, because I found her. Finding her safe—and ensuring she remains that way, despite her attempts to the contrary—is all that matters.

  “Milly?” I hear her up ahead. “W-where are you?”

  I lick my lips. “I’m almost there,” I call out to her.

  Waving my torch before me, the dirt tunnel has been replaced by a tight, rocky path. It’s claustrophobic and makes me antsy—especially since my spear remains outside—but I take it as a good sign that Haime is okay.

  If she’d fallen into a pit…

  I don’t even want to finish the thought. There are many caves along the coast, and some are just deep holes. My tribe stays clear of them because crawling out can be a rigorous ordeal.

  Still… A strange cave is not the place a huntress wants to be. I survey the walls around me. You never know what could be dwelling within. I have to be ready for anything. There could be snakes, spiders, or worse, little naga children leading you into a trap. Gripping my dagger hard, I pray to the waters that isn’t the case.

  Hurting a youngling naga unnerves me, but if it’s to protect Haime, I wouldn’t hesitate.

  Something scuttles over my foot, and I shriek, kicking out. It flies away, and I hop around, crying out with displeasure. Bumps prickle my skin, and I stick out my tongue in disgust. I hate bugs. Bugs are the worst.

  Haime’s going to clean fish for the next year after this. I shake out the feeling from my foot.

  “Aunt Milaye, are you okay?” Haime yells.

  No! No, I’m not okay! Bugs are never okay. My stomach churns. “Yes,” I say though. Just wait until I tell your mother. Aida will make her clean all the fish in the village for years for this. I daydream of swimming in the springs and scrubbing my skin clean, and the thought keeps me moving forward.

  Luckily the rock walls don’t get any tighter, though I doubt the ease of passage is a good sign. It means something travels through here a lot, and I hope it’s nothing more than the naga. But I don’t hear any hissing. That assures me there are no traps, at least for now. Then the path diverges, coming to a fork, and I frown.

  “Haime?”

  “Milaye?” Her voice came from the right-hand path. It sounds clearer than ever, and I know she’s near.

  Eyeing the left path, I tug my satchel forward and root out my bag of clamshells. I don’t want to spend the time searching it—leaving Haime alone any longer—but I don’t like having the trail at my back. Something could be lurking within. Instead, I sprinkle the clamshells on the ground. The thin shells aren’t common, but this is not a waste; they make a great alarm if stepped on. Placing them around a campsite at night can be what saves you from a predator sneaking up while resting. The sound startles them, and you.

  Moments later, I’m heading toward Haime, and the tightness in my chest eases when I hear her breathing.

  “Watch out, there’s a ledge,” she says just as the tight walls enveloping me vanish and my torch illuminates a drop-off. Haime emerges below, blinking several times from the torchlight. The edge is steep and smooth, as if at one point, it’d been eroded by water.

  Getting on my knees, I plac
e the torch and dagger on the stone beside me.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, reaching down.

  “I think so…” Haime grasps my hand but lowers her head. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “Look at me,” I order, waiting until she does. There’s shame etched across her face, but I refuse to let it get to me. My lips flatten as I try to haul her up. She’s resisting. “We’ll talk about this once we’re outside. An apology wouldn’t have saved you if you’d been attacked, or if I hadn’t found the hole.” I try to lift her again. “Why aren’t you helping me?”

  Haime blinks at me. There’s a sheen in her pupils. “The naga boy is down here.”

  I stiffen, and my free hand finds my dagger. Peering out into the darkness, I see nothing even with the halo of torchlight. I hear nothing but Haime. That doesn’t mean there isn’t something there though. “Where?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I lost him. I was able to see until I came in here, and then something happened…”

  “What happened?” I grip her harder. “Wait. Let’s get out of here, then we’ll talk.” I don’t like this. Haime can see well in the dark, but if she’s as blind as I am right now… that’s frightening. The dragon blood in her veins makes her different than any human. Despite her appearance, which makes her differences obvious, Haime is stronger, keener, and has sharper senses than any child I know.

  I try to pull her up, but she resists me again. “Haime,” I say her name in warning, edging closer to her. My hip bone bumps precariously against the ledge

  “I can see again now there’s light. I can’t leave him.”

  “We have to go.”

  “But he’s alone and hungry.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. Come, the torch won’t last forever, and it’ll be harder to get out of here without it. Trekking through the jungle at night is far more dangerous, and we’re running out of daylight.”

  “No!” She rips her hand from mine, pulling with such force I fall forward. “We can’t leave him!”