The Dragon's Hoard Read online

  The Dragon’s Hoard

  Edited by Carol Hightshoe

  Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC

  © 2015 by Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC.

  Published by Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC.

  PO Box 99

  Clinton, MT 59825

  www.skywarriorbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

  Editor: Carol Hightshoe.

  Cover by M. H. Bonham.

  Publisher: M. H. Bonham.

  Printed in the United States of America

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  Acknowledgments

  Musings of a Dragon © Joseph Macolino

  Dragon Treasure © P. Irene Radford

  Life with Smokey © John Lance

  Hoard © Deby Fredericks

  Hosting Happy Hoarders © Sheryl Normandeau

  Meltdown © Chris Barili

  When the Next Wind Blows… © Holly Holt

  Mosaic © K.L.J Anderson

  The Problem with Princesses © Sarina Dorie

  Ugly Girl © Lyn McConchie

  The Young Dragon’s Hoard © V. Hartman DiSanto

  Feed the Dragons © Christina Morris

  Time of the Month © Carol Hightshoe

  Originally published in “Different Dragons”, WolfSinger Publications, 2013

  Reprinted with permission of author

  Dragon’s Tooth © Alexis Glynn Latner

  A Different Kind of Dark © David J. Fielding

  Tiffin, Taxes and Dragons © Gregg Chamberlain

  The Naming of Cats © Rebecca McFarland Kyle

  The Dragon’s Clause © Kelly A. Harmon

  Originally published in “Black Dragon, White Dragon”, Ricasso Press, 2008

  Reprinted with permission of author

  The H-Word © T. J. O’Hare

  Shreddy and the Dancing Dragon © Mary E. Lowd

  Here by Choice © Gerri Leen

  Originally published in “Life Without Crows”, Hadley Rille Books, 2010

  Reprinted with permission of author

  Dragonomics© Lance Schonberg

  Original published in Cast of Wonders podcast, Episode 76, April 2013

  The Price of Everything © Shenoa Carroll-Bradd

  Here be Dragons © Violet Addison and David N. Smith

  Smelling Gold © Matthew Harrison

  The Tortoise © Helen Greetham

  These Things Held Most Dear © Harry Harding Hawkins Jr.

  The Dragon at the End of Time © Kathleen Price

  Table of Contents

  Musings of a Dragon – Joseph Macolino

  Dragon Treasure – P. Irene Radford

  Life with Smokey – John Lance

  Hoard – Deby Fredericks

  Hosting Happy Hoarders – Sheryl Normandeau

  Meltdown – Chris Barili

  When the Next Wind Blows… – H. Holt

  Mosaic – K.L.J Anderson

  The Problem with Princesses – Sarina Dorie

  Ugly Girl – Lyn McConchie

  The Young Dragon’s Hoard – V. Hartman DiSanto

  Feed the Dragons – Christina Morris

  Time of the Month – Carol Hightshoe

  Dragon’s Tooth – Alexis Glynn Latner

  Tiffin, Taxes and Dragons – Gregg Chamberlain

  A Different Kind of Dark – David J. Fielding

  The Naming of Cats – Rebecca McFarland Kyle

  The Dragon’s Clause – Kelly A. Harmon

  The H-Word – T. J. O’Hare

  Shreddy and the Dancing Dragon – Mary E. Lowd

  Here by Choice – Gerri Leen

  Dragonomics – Lance Schonberg

  The Price of Everything – Shenoa Carroll-Bradd

  Here be Dragons – Violet Addison and David N. Smith

  Smelling Gold – Matthew Harrison

  The Tortoise – Helen Greetham

  These Things Held Most Dear – Harding McFadden

  The Dragon at the End of Time – Kathleen Price

  Musings of a Dragon

  Joseph Macolino

  I am a dragon, gathering silver and gold,

  Ruby, sapphire, diamond, and gems of old.

  I gather them all, holding them in my cave,

  No matter the price, I’ll make sure to save.

  All of the treasure, no matter how large or small,

  I swear to persist, until I gather them all.

  I am a dragon, full of rage,

  No man shall slay me, or put me in a cage.

  These treasures are mine, to gather and hoard,

  All men shall bow down, and call me lord.

  Regardless of size, big or small,

  I will obtain, every last one and all.

  I am a dragon, lord of the land, sea, and sky,

  All bow before me, and praise me up high.

  Those who refuse, are left burning in flame,

  And those who submit, may be left with some fame.

  All treasure belongs to me, me and me alone,

  Any who challenge my right, shall be made to atone.

  And if you should try to take treasure from me,

  You best pray to your gods and prepare for a plea.

  I’m not known for mercy but should you show me your fright,

  I might even consider letting you live through the night.

  But the next morning beware of the price you must pay,

  To seek out more treasure and bring it back my way.

  To grow my hoard, to make it larger still,

  Or I’ll burn down your village, just for the thrill.

  And watch you suffer, for your indiscretion,

  Teaching to you, the full scope of my aggression.

  And then I’ll return, to my cave full of treasure,

  To bask in the glory, and strengthen my pleasure.

  For I am a dragon, ruler of these lands,

  Bringer of death, and dealer of hands.

  My might stays unmatched, my hoard ever-growing,

  My breath so hot, it melts men without knowing.

  With all my treasure, I’ll continue to save,

  Never to leave, the comfort of my cave.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Joseph Macolino spends most of his time working on the Legacy of Evorath novels, which he hopes will give fantasy fans a series they can really connect with. Though he enjoys writing the occasional poem, his real passion is in building worlds.

  Dragon Treasure

  Irene Radford

  “Peel me a watermelon, Jenks,” I called to my servant.

  “Peel it yourself, Your Monstrousness, Madame Lea,” the pixie sneered back at me.

  With that attitude, he should have been a gnome. I threw a book at him, the newest in a cozy mystery series I had just finished reading. Jenks flitted up into the cobwebs at the top of the cave. I sent a dribble of flame after him. Any more and I risked the danger of setting fire to one of the stacks of books piled around me.

  My aim was off. I sent five spiders scuttling to safety but missed my target.

  “Hey, send some more fire this way, Your Volatileness. Helps clean up a bit,” Jenks taunted me.

  “House cleaning is your job.”

  “If you’d hire some proper house fairies rather than enslaving an innocent pixie…” He darted into a corner behind the stack of Egyptology tomes.

  “You know I can’t afford house fairies.” Jenks had come to me as part of a trade. I scared a pack of bandits away from a farmer’s livestock in return for some books. Jenks had been ensorcelled inside a delectable volume on wheat hybrids (I think the wizard figured no one would ever open th
e book and discover the bad-tempered brat). I broke the spell in return for services. Some day I’ll write a book about that adventure. Some day when I’ve finished my to-be-read-pile, or got bored with re-reading my favorites.

  “If you’d get off your fat arse and go hunt up some treasure like a proper dragon…” Jenks ducked as I threw a rotten tomato at him. It was sitting right where I’d left it when I started reading the mystery series—goodness, can that have been two weeks ago? How time flies.

  I lumbered off the lounge, displacing the pile of old romances that propped up the broken leg. A fog of dust engulfed me as the books tumbled. I was mad enough to spit fire, but had to settle for loosing a stream of ancient curses—gleaned from one of the Egyptology tomes.

  “Where are you, you miserable pixie?” I screamed as I batted my forepaws through the thick air, trying to clear it before I sneezed.

  Too late. “Achooooooooo!” Smoke and fire shot upward as I turned my muzzle away from the precious books.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Jenks screamed at me as he beat at a flamelet on a hardcover dust jacket with his hands. Unfortunately, his flapping wings only fanned the embers into real fire.

  “No great loss.” I stomped upon the wildfire, half hoping I’d flatten Jenks in the process. “It’s only a duplicate copy of Astarte, Love Goddess To Unlovable Thieves, true porn masquerading as romantic erotica, probably the worst book ever written.”

  “My favorite,” Jenks protested as he squeezed between my toes.

  Drat! I missed the little gnat.

  He examined a bent wing. The fire had singed the tip, and my talons had made a rent down the middle, a least two thirds it’s rainbow length.

  “I claim the other copy as recompense for damages, Your Addicted-to-Justice-ness” Jenks moaned.

  “Fine, and clear out some of this other crap while you’re at it.” I kicked a pig skeleton into the deep recesses of the cave. It bounced back from the pile of refuse, and shattered upon impact. I pulled a splinter free of the carcass and picked my teeth.

  “You really should do something about the mess, Your Slobbishnes,” Jenks said, shaking his head.

  He rummaged through a pile of rags to unearth a medicine bag from the last wizard who had tried to steal treasure from me. When the spell-caster had discovered nothing but books, I couldn’t allow him to leave. After all, my fierce reputation was all that gave me any privacy for reading.

  The land was thick with knights and other adventurers; younger sons who couldn’t inherit the family homestead and had to make their own way in the world. I guess they hoped to pilfer a few diamonds and such to purchase their own land or make them more attractive to an heiress.

  To tell you the truth, if I had a spare diamond or two, I’d sell it and buy more books. That’s the only use for treasure, in my not-so-humble opinion. My fractiously feuding family doesn’t agree with me, on much of anything. Especially the issue of books. Boils and pustules, what can I do with them?

  They believe the purpose of a dragon’s life is to amass treasure and then defend it against thieving humans. Now if we could just teach more of those humans to read and to treasure books…But that’s another matter.

  My family, with their hoards of shiny treasures can afford house fairies to keep everything clean and polished and properly accounted for in thick ledgers.

  A clean cave is a sign of a sick mind. Or a sign of a dragon with nothing better to do with her time.

  I’d rather spend my time reading.

  Whenever family obligations require we meet, I always go to their places. I’d never invited a single one of them here, nor have I allowed them to “drop by” or escort me to a family gathering. They might discover I’m not just erudite, I’m a total slob.

  The doorbell rang. Such a rare phenomenon Jenks and I stared at each other long enough for the visitor to get impatient and ring again.

  “Quick, Jenks, get rid of it, whatever it is.” I slunk into a dark recess, grabbing my book along the way.

  The bell rang again, a long and loud bong that repeated a dozen times, as if someone actually swung from the rope rather than rapping it smartly against the bronze bell. I wasn’t curious enough to peek out the window crack to see for sure.

  “Keep your greaves on, I’m coming,” Jenks groused. He had to walk the ten tail-lengths to the iron-hinged and studded double oak doors. He couldn’t lift the latch of course. It was heavy enough to make me think twice about lifting it—so I rarely left the place. Jenks crawled beneath the door, then right back inside.

  “Get your scaly chartreuse body over here, Your Immenseness. This is one of yours.”

  “A knight?” I really didn’t want to fight a knight today. They’d left me alone for so long, I’d lost my taste for human flesh. Besides, I was just getting to the good part of the book, the part where the hero says this one special word in ancient Sumerian and the heroine melts into a puddle of oil.

  Psst, I should mention I usually recast the characters in the books I read. The ones you might ordinarily call villains are the true heroes. The nice guys are just too…too vanilla.

  “A knight of sorts,” Jenks choked under his nectar scented breath.

  Then I realized the hacking sound coming from his miniature body was laughter. If he’d make a decent mouthful, I just might eat him. But then, if Jenks didn’t lure game into the cave, I’d have to find food and cook occasionally. That would disrupt my privacy and my reading.

  “Who dares trespass on my property,” I bellowed in my fiercest dragon voice. I let a little smoke seep under the door. That usually scared off all but the most desperate and poor of the thieves.

  For an answer I heard only a tremendous thud against the stout door.

  “What’s he got, a battering ram?”

  “Better,” Jenks chortled. “A trebuchet.”

  Curses and flames hit the door in equal measure. It caught fire and splintered under the next blow.

  Where could I hide? More important, how could I keep the invader away from my books?

  Panic made me shrink into a brittle shadow of my robust self.

  “Quick, Jenks, sprinkle the place with pixie dust so he thinks all this is treasure and not just garbage. Maybe he’ll haul away a pig carcass or three.”

  “Or six,” Jenks muttered. “You know if I dust the books maybe he’ll haul away a few stacks, give us some more room.”

  “Over my dead body!” I puffed myself up and loosed another blast of fire. The knight was attacking the door with a fresh barrage of boulders anyway, maybe if I singed him through the cracks a little, he’d think twice.

  “He’ll make your body dead if you aren’t careful.” Jenks threw a handful or two of pixie dust over the remains of my last six meals.

  “More, Jenks. That’s not enough dust to fool anyone.”

  “All I can do, Your Gluttonness. Can’t fly, thanks to you singing my wing, so I can’t properly dust anything.”

  “Maybe if you throw it in his face…”

  “You willing to hold me high enough, and close enough to reach his face?” The cocky gnat stood, hands on hips, feet spread in an aggressive stance.

  “I don’t…If I have to.” My knees began to tremble and I dropped to all fours rather than fall flat on my face.

  Did I mention that besides being an erudite slob I am also a coward?

  “That’s better,” Jenks said. “You’re thinking, rather than just reacting and depending upon your size and strength to win this fight.”

  Yeah, right.

  He began climbing my body as he would a mountain. “If you rolled onto your side, I could make better headway on your scales. Not fight gravity.”

  Whatever. I obeyed his command and he slithered and hitched himself up, scale by scale, shaking loose a few itchy mites along the way.

  Meanwhile, the knight made headway on the door with boulders, nearly as large as myself, banging into it every few minutes. Before Jenks reached my muzzle so I could st
and up again, the door crashed to the floor.

  “Yeep!” I squeaked and scrambled for a more dignified pose.

  “All right, Lea, hand them over!” shouted a scrawny man crouching behind a shield made of translucent dragon scales. He brandished a rusty sword that belonged in a museum. His token armor consisted of motorcycle leathers and a helmet—not very stylish or well-fitting leathers at that. They bagged at his shoulders and butt. He’d had to roll up the pant legs and sleeve cuffs to accommodate their bulk and length to his underdeveloped frame.

  Jenks swung from one of my neck fronds as if it were a playground toy. “Hey!” he chortled. “It’s a girl.”

  I dipped my head to peer more closely at my invader. The shield was perfectly transparent to my vision. I also hoped to find a way around that shield. Flames were of no use against dragon scales.

  If I stalled long enough maybe she’d drop it. It must have weighed a ton and covered the entire length of her body.

  “Hand what over?” I boomed, hoping the noise and reverberation would cover the frightened quaver in my voice.

  “Your library books. They’re one hundred years overdue. The fines alone are worth a king’s ransom.”

  “Yeep!” I gulped. “Library books?”

  “You heard me. Hand them over.”

  “Look around, girlie, you find ‘em, you can have ‘em,” Jenks challenged her.

  She poked her pert nose around the edge of her shield. Her eyes went wide, causing a pair of thick spectacles to slide down her miniature snoz, stopping just short of dropping to the ground.

  “By Midas, the great god of hoarders!” She tried reaching for a pile of books, discovered both hands occupied by sword and shield.

  I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. How to choose between the treasure of books and defense of her body? While she thought, I tried to come up with a strategy to get rid of her. But if she left here alive she’d tell the world not only did I not have a great treasure of diamonds and gold, but she’d broadcast to the world and my family what a lousy housekeeper I was, even with a pixie to help dust occasionally.

  The librarian/knight finally opted to sheath her rusty old sword and keep her shield between herself and the smoke dribbling out of my muzzle. Rapidly and precisely she straightened two piles, alphabetizing them as she went.