Tags:
Fantasy,
nook,
kindle,
Ebook,
EPUB,
mobi,
Merlin,
Book View Cafe,
Short story collection,
Hercules,
Phyllis Irene Radford,
Fantaastical Ramblings,
Irene Radford
firmly.
Ben gulped and nodded.
~THE END~
Dragon Treasure
This is another story I used to feed the insatiable maw of
new free fiction on the front page of the Book View Café website. In part I
used the writing to work through my grief when my Mom passed—see the dedication
at the end. In part it just needed to be written. Thanks also to Lea Day for
some of the inspiration, a good friend and the best researcher I know.
<<>>
“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 the 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 its 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
Slobbishness,” 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.
C. J. Cherryh
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