Spot wagged his tail in excitement. It was still a bit short and stumpy, but one day, it would be a serpentine coil that would whip out with enough force to carve through steel and stone with ease. He’d heard stories from the idiot and the twerp about how older dragons could slice entire groups of heavily armoured knights to ribbons with a single swipe of their tails. He couldn’t wait until he was old enough to do that. Plus, he could use his tail to cut multiple cows to pieces at the same time.
Cookies.
“Cookies? So that’s where those little bastards have been getting them.” His mother’s eyes narrowed at Alicia. The maid shivered, and Spot chortled. His mother was a dragon without wings. She had fire, ferocity, and the ability to terrify people with a glance. “How much longer until they’re done? If Spot is eating them all and not bringing any back for me, then they must be good.” She shifted her gaze to Spot, and the dragon shifted nervously.
Hungry.
“Yeah, yeah.” His mother rolled her eyes. “I’m not mad. I swear you eat enough to feed at least a whole village of people, maybe more. I’m not surprised that you’re not bringing me any cookies. I bet you gobble them up the second they’re done.”
Spot nodded. Very tasty!
“I bet they are.” His mother looked at Alicia. “Well? How much longer? Don’t make me ask again. Spot might like these cookies of yours, but he’ll eat anything if you give him the chance. I want to try some for myself.”
Alicia gulped. “Um… another ten minutes, ma’am… uh… my lady… uh…”
“Don’t give me any of that crap. I’m not some dumb ass noble. I actually work for a living, and I fight my own damn battles. Call me Avraniel.”
Alicia nodded silently. The other servants had all emphasised the importance of maintaining decorum despite the eccentricities of their master and his apprentice. They had suggested that she extend the same courtesy to the castle’s current guests, no matter how odd their behaviour might be. If the blonde elf wanted to be called Avraniel, then that was what Alicia would call her.
“Ten minutes, huh?” His mother sat on top of one of the benches and patted her lap. “Come here, Spot. I need to sharpen one of the daggers I took off a bandit the other day, and I forgot to bring a sharpening stone with me.” She twirled the dagger around so quickly that it was little more than a blur of metal. “A skilled dwarf made this dagger, but the idiot who had it had no idea of how to use it, never mind take care of it. His dagger and his gold are better off with me, and he’s better off in jail instead of on fire. It’s a win for everybody.”
Spot hopped onto his mother’s lap, so she could run the blade of the dagger along his scales to hone its edge. All he felt was a tickling sensation, and he belched a small jet of flame as the dagger found a particularly ticklish area.
“Watch it,” his mother warned, dousing the flame with her magic. “The idiot is going to be pissed if we set the kitchens on fire and so am I. The food here is great.”
Ten minutes later, the cookies were done. Spot cheerfully began to munch on his share while his mother nibbled thoughtfully on a single cookie before quickly coming to a decision and reaching for more. Within seconds, she had seized all of the remaining available cookies.
“Spot, there is no way that I’m getting up any damn earlier than I have to. I did enough of that when those bastard elves in the forest spent decades trying to catch me, so I’m not about to start doing it again. But you’d better save some of these cookies for me.” His mother held his gaze for a long moment to make sure he understood before she turned her attention back to Alicia. “As for you… I want more cookies. If you need more money to buy ingredients or anything else, ask me. If anyone gives you trouble or tries to stop you, tell me. These cookies of yours are great, and I’ll show anyone who stops me getting some the error of their ways.” She smirked, and the air behind her shimmered as a sudden wave of heat filled the room. “Understand?”
Spot perked up as his mother’s magic saturated the air. Were they going to set someone or something on fire?
Alicia trembled. Like most people who barely had any magic, standing next to someone like Spot’s mother when she loosened her hold over her magic was like standing next to a raging inferno. “Yes, ma’am… um… I mean… yes, Avraniel.”
“Good.” His mother chewed on one last cookie. She eyed the handful of cookies that remained on Spot’s plate, and the dragon hunched over them protectively. She might have been his mother, but he was not about to let her take his cookies. An amused smile crossed her lips, and she nodded in approval. No dragon would ever allow someone to simply walk over and take their cookies. “Now, tell me, can you make these but with hazelnuts in them too?”
“I guess I could…”
“Guess what you’re making tomorrow morning then.”
“Uh… these but with hazelnuts in them?”
“Yep.” Spot’s mother smirked and then strode out of the kitchen. It was only when she’d reached the door that Spot realised that she’d somehow swiped one of his cookies.
My cookie! Spot gasped.
His mother turned and tossed the cookie back to him. “You’re a dragon, Spot, but you’re young. There’s still plenty for you to learn. It’s about time the rats and I started teaching you how to steal things without getting caught.” She sneered. “I’ll ask that bastard Rubens to help. He’s a sneaky son of a bitch, even when he isn’t turning invisible. I doubt it will be much use when you’re fully grown. Adult dragons are crap at sneaking around, but until then, it could come in handy.”
Spot watched his mother go and trilled a thank you to her as he devoured the last of his cookies. He wasn’t surprised she’d given it back. She’d only been trying to make a point. Dragons had excellent senses, but they could still be fooled. The best way to avoid having something stolen from him in the future would be to learn how to steal things.
He turned back to Alicia who was still gaping at the door his mother had walked out of. He chortled. His mother had that effect on people. He nudged Alicia’s leg with his head. She wasn’t joking.
“I know,” Alicia murmured. “Which is why I’m worried.” She shook herself and looked around frantically. “I need to find out where the hazelnuts are kept!”
* * *
Timmy was in the middle of brushing Spot’s teeth, which had become strangely common since Avraniel continued to find increasingly ridiculous reasons to foist the task onto him like claiming she was allergic to Spot’s toothpaste, when he again noticed something that had begun to bother him. There were bits of cookie wedged in between Spot’s teeth. On its own, that wouldn’t have been unusual. Cookies were hardly rare in Everton. What was unusual was that Katie hadn’t reported any of her cookies missing – and she would definitely have complained if someone had filched some of her cookies – nor could he recall any of the kitchen staff making any cookies with hazelnuts, chocolate chips, and caramel in them. He wiped some sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand and considered the matter further. He kept finding bits of cookies wedged in between Spot’s teeth, so the dragon had to be getting cookies from somewhere. And these were good cookies. Even half crushed and covered in dragon saliva, they looked fantastic.
“Where do you get these cookies from?” Timmy asked as he resumed cleaning Spot’s impressively deadly teeth.
The dragon was growing at an impressive rate, but his teeth still looked too big for his mouth. If this kept up, Spot would have trouble fitting into the castles corridors within a decade, maybe less. Then again, dragons did tend to grow more slowly as they got older, and astral dragons were supposed to have an assortment of abilities related to intangibility and astral projection, not that Spot had shown much potential in either area yet. Timmy would have to see if there was a friendly astral dragon out there that was willing to pass on some advice since Avraniel was unlikely to be any help. The elf was definitely better suited to helping Spot master abilities from the corruption dragon side of his heritage
since they generally focused on destroying things.
Alicia made cookies. Spot turned his head and licked the bit of cookie that Timmy had pulled free.
The necromancer sighed as it promptly got stuck between a different pair of teeth. No wonder dragons were cranky all the time. Not only did they have to contend with adventurers trying to steal their treasure all the time but also their risk of tooth decay was incredible. Hopefully, Spot’s teeth would fit his jaw better as the dragon got larger. It would make his teeth so much easier to clean.
Wait.
Did dragons have baby teeth like humans did? Was it possible that Spot’s teeth would simply fall out as he got older, allowing a new and even more menacing set to emerge in adulthood? Adult dragons were able to regrow teeth, but he didn’t know if the same applied to younger ones like Spot. Dragon researchers had a depressing tendency to get eaten before they could learn too much. However, dragons were basically nature’s ultimate killing machines. It would have been weird if even young dragons couldn’t regrow teeth to replace any they lost or damaged. Alas, even if Spot could get new teeth, Timmy still wasn’t getting out of brushing the little dragon’s teeth. A dragon with a sore tooth was an irritable dragon, and an irritable dragon usually resulted in a dead everything else.
The name Spot had mentioned was familiar. Alicia was one of the maids who worked at the castle, but she wasn’t a member of the kitchen staff. Interesting. He’d have to do a bit of digging. Getting good cookies at the castle was a pain in the neck, and he hadn’t been able to convince a suitably skilled cookie maker to move in yet. Just getting a skilled baker to ensure a steady supply of cake after his master’s years of tyranny had been hard enough.
Timmy reached for a tool that resembled a hook and motioned for Spot to open his mouth wider. The dragon did, and it was suitably terrifying. No wonder Spot was capable of practically inhaling a cow. Timmy sighed and shoved his arm into Spot’s mouth. There was no sane way to do this. Getting at those back of teeth of his was practically impossible. “Tell me more and do not close your mouth. I enjoy having a right arm.”
* * *
Alicia had enjoyed the last fortnight or so immensely. Once she’d realised that Spot was not, in fact, interested in eating her and was actually quite friendly, her morning baking routine had become much more enjoyable. The dragon – and the rats that tagged along – had grown increasingly adept at offering useful and thorough critiques about her recipes, most likely due to how much keener a dragon’s senses were than a human’s. As for the rats, they’d brought along some of their bakers. Apparently, they did a lot of their own baking, and they’d offered to share some cookie-making techniques from their homeland. She still didn’t know how she could make sense of the rats’ speech since they didn’t use telepathy like Spot. Perhaps it was some kind of magic. After all, magic could create nightmarish zombies that were a mishmash of half a dozen different creatures, so it wasn’t too far fetched to think it could let rats communicate with people. She had asked some of the other servants who dealt with the rats on a regular basis, and they’d told her to get used to it. The rats had their ways, and it was better not to ask too many questions. These were, after all, the same rats that specialised in assassination, demolition, and a host of other nefarious activities.
Alicia had even gotten used to the extremely terrifying elf that Spot called his mother. Avraniel had checked on them several more times to make sure that Spot was okay – and that he hadn’t been eating any of her share of the cookies – but she’d mostly left Alicia to her own devices. All Avraniel wanted was a regular supply of cookies in the flavours she liked. She was even willing to pay for ingredients. Alicia had a feeling the money came from any criminals unfortunate enough to cross the elf’s path, and when one of her hazelnut suppliers had been threatened by a criminal syndicate, the entire syndicate had mysteriously vanished with their heavily fortified lair reduced to a smouldering pile of ash. In a remarkable coincidence, both Spot and Avraniel had been absent that morning. However, witnesses who lived near the lair had reported hearing the sounds of a woman cursing and a reptile of some kind roaring in a manner that was equal parts adorable and terrifying just prior to the lair’s destruction.
Despite how scary it was to know people who could – and would – annihilate a criminal syndicate for threatening their supply of cookies, it was strangely reassuring to know that those same people would be willing to kill or mangle her enemies if necessary. Perhaps it was because of how long she’d worked at the castle, but Alicia was fairly certain that a normal person would not have found mass murder over cookies to be reassuring even if the victims had been members of an evil crime syndicate. Then again, was it any weirder than having a trans-dimensional protoplasmic horror that liked cake wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night for a snack? And it certainly wasn’t any stranger than working for a necromancer who made his apprentice file his tax returns not only because he was lazy but also because the apprentice in question, a young girl, was incredibly good at toeing the line between proper adherence to the law and tax fraud.
And speaking of the castle’s master, Lord Bolton himself had come to observe this morning’s baking session. It was hard not to tremble in his presence. Although he didn’t go over the top with his clothing the way Lady Morrow was prone to doing – voluminous black robes and clogs could not possibly be practical in a fight – he still cut an imposing figure despite the laid-back attitude he often affected to put the servants at ease despite his awesome power. The casual ease with which he swung around a shovel with one hand hinted at the strength he possessed, and anyone who had the courage to stick their entire arm into Spot’s mouth simply to clean the dragon’s teeth had to have nerves of steel. Lord Bolton might look more like a casually dressed mercenary than a necromancer, but Alicia had some inkling of what he was truly capable of.
Lord Bolton was a Grand Necromancer. There weren’t many of them in the world, and he’d achieved his rank at a far earlier age than his peers. His necromantic powers were thus sure to be beyond her comprehension. She’d seen him befriend horrors and monsters that defied human understanding. Indeed, it wasn’t at all unusual to find Lord Bolton and Sam sharing cake in one of the courtyards, and she and the other servants had all been warned not to stare at Sam too closely lest they be driven insane. If the rumours were true, Lord Bolton could even speak the bizarre, arcane language used by Sam and his ilk. Who knew what matters of cosmic importance the necromancer and the horror discussed while they were enjoying cake or playing cards?
She’d also heard of how he had robbed the haunted tombs of countless ancient kings and waged war against other villains, robbing them of their treasure and destroying their fortresses. Lately, she’d even heard whispers of how he and the others had gone on missions of the utmost difficulty and importance for the Council. If the Council, the wisest and most powerful of Everton’s elite, needed his help, then his power must have been truly incredible.
But there was more. The Supreme Cleric of the Order of the Blessed Dawn had come to the castle personally to discuss things with Lord Bolton. Alicia had seen her floating through several walls on her way to the dining room, the unbelievable might and radiance of her magic all but driving Alicia to her knees in awe.
And now? Now the Lord of Black Tower Castle, the man who paid her salary, the same man who, as kind as he was to his servants, was also capable of fighting and defeating some of the most powerful and dangerous people in the world… that same man was now staring right at her and waving a hand in front of her face because instead of listening to what he’d been saying, she’d been too busy speculating about him.
“Are you okay?” Lord Bolton asked. “You’ve been mumbling to yourself and staring into space for about two minutes.”
Alicia immediately composed an elegant reply, one that would doubtless assuage any concerns that her employer might have about her sanity. What emerged from her mouth was rather different. “Blabargarh!”
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Lord Bolton stared.
Alicia coughed and cleared her throat. “I mean… good morning, Lord Bolton.” She bowed formally and almost hit her head on the bench.
He chuckled. “Lord Bolton? It’s too early in the morning to be so formal.” He snickered. “You should see Katie when I try to get her up early in the morning. She’d give Avraniel a run for her money in the murderous rage department.” He nodded at Spot. “You have a lot of cookies on your plate Spot, and the next batch is about to finish. Can I have one? I’m feeling a bit hungry.”
To Alicia’s horror, the dragon growled and wrapped himself protectively around his plate of cookies. He even lashed the air with his tail, which wasn’t nearly as threatening as it would one day be, considering how short his tail currently was. The dragon also bared his teeth, and she saw the shimmer of flame kindle in his jaws. But Lord Bolton merely rolled his eyes and then stepped forward. Spot lunged at him, and the two of them rolled across the floor briefly before Lord Bolton emerged with a cookie in one hand.
“Not bad, Spot.” Lord Bolton patted the dragon on the head. “But you need to work on your technique. There aren’t many things big, strong, or crazy enough to wrestle an adult dragon, but you’ve still got a lot of growing to do. And once you have grown up, you’ll want to have an edge, something to help you deal with other dragons and anything else that might want to wrestle you. Good technique can give you that edge.” The dragon nodded solemnly and then gave a huff before nudging Lord Bolton with his head. “Relax, I’m only going to have a tiny bit of your cookie, and I’ll make sure you get an extra one from the next batch.” That seemed to placate Spot, and the dragon sat back on his haunches. “Now, time to find out what all of the fuss is about.”
Alicia waited with bated breath as Lord Bolton bit off part of the cookie and munched on it. His expression was utterly inscrutable as he chewed, chewed, chewed, and finally swallowed.
The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company Page 9
