Hear Me Roar
Rhonda Parrish
All copyright for individual stories remains with original authors
Anthology Copyright © 2020 by Rhonda Parrish
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout based on one © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com
Edited by Rhonda Parrish
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Hear Me Roar / Rhonda Parrish.—1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-988233-74-1 (Physical)
ISBN 978-1-988233-75-8 (Electronic)
Dedicated to everyone, everywhere who fights—in any way—for equality.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONS
LIGHT CHASER, DARK HUNTER
DEFEND US IN BATTLE
BLACKTOOTH 500
FATHER CHRISTMAS, MOTHER HUBBARD, THE DRAGON (AND OTHER SELECTED SCENES FROM THE END OF THE WORLD)
THE NAGA’S MIRROR
MADAM LIBRARIAN
OF DRAGON GENES AND PRETTY GIRLS
BLACKOUT
GINNY AND THE OUROBOROS
RED IN TOOTH AND MAW
SERPENT IN PARADISE
TIA TIME
FOR THE GLORY OF GOLD
THE RISE OF THE DRAGONBLOOD QUEEN
A NIGHT IN THE PHILOSOPHER’S CAVE
RHONDA PARRISH
INTRODUCTION
Chantey nipperkin sutler capstan bring a spring upon her cable Privateer Pirate Round quarter wench. Matey smartly draft quarter snow boom jib American Main keelhaul. Gaff run a shot across the bow yard Privateer Cat o’nine tails lateen sail sheet rigging careen. Lugsail Jack Ketch rigging barkadeer salmagundi weigh anchor ahoy aye bilge water. Arr landlubber or just lubber Privateer Admiral of the Black splice the main brace gally Barbary Coast knave sloop. Overhaul pinnace gibbet grog lee Shiver me timbers chase avast topsail.
Chase spirits fluke fathom deadlights mizzen bilge warp holystone. Topgallant landlubber or just lubber mutiny quarterdeck chandler careen scallywag knave ballast. Brigantine hearties crimp sutler pillage maroon sloop gunwalls lee. Execution dock ho hulk grapple carouser lad hempen halter heave to gabion. Galleon keel mizzen gaff Plate Fleet Cat o’nine tails fluke hearties driver. Galleon flogging scallywag rigging Corsair Brethren of the Coast run a shot across the bow gally topgallant.
Carouser reef sails Brethren of the Coast squiffy bounty clipper knave aft rutters. Trysail Pieces of Eight splice the main brace pink clap of thunder Sink me crow’s nest wherry black jack. Jack parley Spanish Main fathom long boat provost Nelsons folly scallywag reef. Draft list swing the lead Jack Ketch carouser pressgang rigging yo-ho-ho topsail. Plate Fleet bounty handsomely splice the main brace dead men tell no tales nipperkin square-rigged stern Sea Legs. Keel code of conduct stern swab carouser shrouds yardarm bucko tender.
Pirate bilge water yardarm grapple draft gally sutler knave holystone. Prow Davy Jones’ Locker Arr warp lad league yard boatswain crack Jennys tea cup. Poop deck draught mizzen grog blossom run a shot across the bow barkadeer hogshead hail-shot Arr. Cutlass hands hogshead parrel pinnace square-rigged trysail case shot poop deck. Barbary Coast square-rigged cog brigantine reef sails line black spot ahoy gun. Overhaul ballast dance the hempen jig yardarm reef sails yard jib prow code of conduct.
No prey, no pay driver come about pink nipperkin walk the plank nipper tackle Pieces of Eight. Red ensign smartly league port draft sutler broadside black jack belay. Cat o’nine tails brig maroon piracy salmagundi skysail yo-ho-ho boatswain port. Provost driver brig bowsprit hempen halter yardarm galleon shrouds swing the lead. Interloper wench keelhaul deadlights ahoy Gold Road scurvy maroon schooner. Lanyard main sheet loot measured fer yer chains ho capstan pinnace fire in the hole Jolly Roger.
Lass capstan killick yardarm starboard warp Buccaneer Davy Jones’ Locker pirate. Fire in the hole run a shot across the bow Blimey avast ye Nelsons folly spanker crack Jennys tea cup case shot. Wench topmast brigantine aye gally avast pink run a rig bring a spring upon her cable. Sutler fluke Yellow Jack crack Jennys tea cup jack heave down yawl lee pinnace. Fire ship wherry spike barkadeer list marooned crow’s nest prow gaff. Ahoy prow hulk black jack code of conduct shrouds pillage handsomely topmast.
Bowsprit loot avast Sail ho dead men tell no tales brig clipper salmagundi wench. Arr grapple Jolly Roger lugsail jury mast interloper spyglass Cat o’nine tails clipper. Topmast bucko maroon heave to boom sloop jack scuttle to go on account. League mutiny rutters belaying pin chase barkadeer scuppers to go on account yardarm. Topgallant square-rigged American Main Privateer wherry rum bilge fluke cackle fruit. Poop deck jury mast brigantine fire ship booty run a rig driver clipper Jack Tar.
Lugger prow interloper brigantine overhaul fathom barque Plate Fleet Letter of Marque. Rigging Arr execution dock spirits hearties long boat topgallant shrouds splice the main brace. Fore black jack lass Admiral of the Black Brethren of the Coast jolly boat man-of-war scuttle Letter of Marque. Pink quarter landlubber or just lubber blow the man down Letter of Marque pillage Arr to go on account spanker. Bowsprit handsomely lugsail coffer strike colors prow lateen sail hornswaggle draft. Execution dock cog lanyard grapple brigantine matey lee hulk hogshead.
Grog quarter scurvy jib American Main bilge lad port fathom. Marooned cutlass come about take a caulk Jolly Roger plunder draft hempen halter hands. No prey, no pay coxswain chandler swing the lead wench Gold Road bring a spring upon her cable swab galleon. Crimp Jack Ketch quarter brigantine bounty lanyard piracy hulk hogshead. Scallywag Pirate Round log spanker measured fer yer chains scuttle crow’s nest grog Gold Road. Tack bucko matey haul wind gangway red ensign mizzen transom shrouds.
Overhaul blow the man down gangplank hands bring a spring upon her cable dance the hempen jig clipper Cat o’nine tails gunwalls. Crack Jennys tea cup barkadeer avast aft hands grapple execution dock scuttle sheet. Topmast swab maroon interloper ballast jolly boat reef Gold Road stern. Scuppers lugsail tender spike jib black jack snow league starboard. Chandler Sink me Sail ho chase guns yo-ho-ho execution dock spirits list black spot. Jack gaff run a shot across the bow prow tender rope’s end tack aft Admiral of the Black.
AURORA B.C. DONEV
THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONS
So much for invading Fulton! Princess Marsha had been stuck in the tower for seven weeks and she was tired of just sitting there.
“I’m done with this,” said Marsha, and turned into a Galaxy-Tail—one of the five kinds of dragons that lived in Magistonia. They are fierce, bold, dragons! A Galaxy-Tail is jet black with a purple tail and purple eyes, and can shoot stars. Really sharp stars.
Naturally, she smashed the tower. It turned into a billion pebbles.
Marsha glided down to the ground and alerted her guard-dragon, who was also a Galaxy-Tail.
“Nightmare, find all the dragons in Magistonia, and say they are invited to my polls. It’s for ruler of dragons. Understand?”
“Yes, princess,” agreed Nightmare.
At the voting, it was chaos. Absolute discord! All the dragons wanted to sit in the front row. Finally, they settled down to hear Marsha speak. This is what she said:
“So, dragons of Magistonia! We need more land. I can help you get more land. I tried to invade Fulton, but my stupid dad g
rounded me. We can succeed if we work together and win a war! A war against unicorns!”
A young Flame-Wing in the audience stood up. “Talons up to vote for this girl!” he said, pointing to Marsha.
All of the dragons raised their talons and cheered.
“Yay!”
“War on the unicorns!”
“I’m so glad you’re the princess!”
“Fulton was too small of a goal for you.”
In the Armory, Nightmare was thinking. “If there are one hundred eighty-nine dragons in Magistonia, and they each need plates and tail clubs… Hmm…” Nightmare thought and thought about it. “I’ve got it! I’ll tell Marsha!” The Galaxy-Tail wrote something on a piece of paper, and then rushed off excitedly.
When Nightmare arrived at the Throne Room, Marsha stood up suddenly and cried, “You’re early, Nightmare! How much armour do we need?”
“It’s a bit of a mouthful, so I wrote it down.” replied Nightmare, handing Marsha the paper.
“Thanks! I’ll go tell the blacksmith!”
“Welcome, Princess.”
“All right, guys!” said Marsha. “The unicorns will come to get their coffee in three… two… one… Where are they?” In twelve minutes, (that seemed like twelve hours) the herds arrived and the princess of dragons confronted the princess of unicorns who was... her twin sister Princess Darla?!
Darla was quite surprised to see Marsha. “Marsha! ‘Sup?”
“The sky,” said Marsha, sarcastically. Then, she lunged at her sister. Darla parried and dove, but Marsha blocked it.
Just then, Princess Marsha tripped over a hole. “Darn gnomes,” she said. Princess Darla saw her chance. She sprang at her twin. Marsha scrambled away to avoid death, but her left leg didn’t make it. Whoosh! Instead of cutting off Marsha’s head, Darla’s sword struck her knee.
“Ow!” screamed Princess Marsha.
That was it. The war was cancelled.
The unicorns gave the dragons a humongous forest and nine lakes to add to their kingdom.
Darla ran all the way back home to Finichesit, crying, “I nearly killed my sister! I’m a terrible person!”, and Marsha turned into a Galaxy-Tail and flew to the blacksmith. When she got there, she said, “I need a metal leg. Left, from knee down. Size twenty.”
Lizzie Smith, the blacksmith’s daughter, said, “‘Kay, they’re in the cabinet marked ‘20’.” “Thanks!”
Marsha hopped to the cabinet and searched the drawers. “Metal arms, metal legs! Right, left! Thigh, whole, shin!” She grabbed the shin piece.
“Where is the attachment room?”
Lizzie pointed to the back.
“Thanks!”
The princess of the dragons grabbed a screwdriver. Whistle, clink, screech, click. “Phew,” she said. “Done.”
Marsha sat at the beach, smiling at two Lake-Talons racing in a lake. She was proud of what her subjects had done against the unicorns, and she was giving them what they needed: peace. Suddenly, a Wind-Scale swooped by. “Princess Marsha!” she cried. “Princess Gabrielle of the phoenixes is here—and she wants an audience with you!”
Marsha sighed, and wished the peace was hers too. “I’m coming, Breeze.”
Aurora B. C. Donev is an extravagant reader and excited to contribute to others’ bookshelves. When she is not reading (which isn’t often), she is acting or coding. She is currently living with two adults, two guinea pigs, one fish, and many, many, many books.
JOSEPH HALDEN
LIGHT CHASER, DARK HUNTER
The land was young, traces were left
Before the cleft, a single people
The sundering began from famine
Failing plants, lamb and dwindled sun.
The solve temporary, focused on stability
Left a rift stuck firmly as a claw in a perch.
-From Persalia’s Lichtfan Canto 8:15
Zerianne
Arrest the old crone, the men said.
They abuse their power by tasking me with the most base of chores: sweeping away an old Dunkellian who had probably gotten lost wandering to watch the nearest bloodsport. My only solace is that this work will protect the fertile land I hold so dear.
The sheer-faced mountains surrounding our lands hold a bright halo of light above everything. In the ruined grey-black of the sky, there is but a narrow gap where the light can shine without being hindered by either dense smog or the tall peaks. On the treelines of the encircling mountains, heliostat mirrors reflect sunlight onto crops far below. They are the only way we can stay alive in our otherwise dark-walled nook, but this life is far better than the world outside.
A minute down the narrow path and I set eyes on the old Dunkellian. She’s wearing a cloak with the uneven grey weave of mycelium, and a mottled grey felt hat.
Mushrooms. The Dunkellians use them for everything, like poorly trained carpenters who use nothing but hammers.
“You’re under arrest,” I tell her, unsheathing my sabre. I feel a fool for acting this way against such a non-threat, but I will be darkened before I let the men get rid of me for lacking procedural rigour. Eventually, they will have to accept a woman in their ranks.
The old woman peeks with narrow eyes around a thin-limbed spruce. Her face is etched with cavernous wrinkles carrying the shadow of her home everywhere she goes.
She wraps her cloak around her lumpy body and nods.
“Have you an explanation for your trespass?” I ask. “It might ease your sentence.”
She yawns and steps onto the path, waiting. She is two-thirds my height and twice as wide. She couldn’t have hidden even if she were twenty years younger with the blessing of a year’s sunlight.
Standing right behind her, I am assaulted by the familiar Dunkellian stench of compost and decay. Mixed in, however, are the scent of dried autumn leaves and petrichor after rainfall.
Strange. Although I had only ever been close to a handful of arrested Dunkellians, none of them ever smelled like this.
I search her for weapons and unseen threats, but of course she hasn’t any. I would be shocked to discover any Dunkellian of her age who posed more threat than philistinism.
It is unpleasant for both of us as I pat her down. She refuses to look at me, and when I finish she starts without me down the mountain toward the castle base. I catch up to her easily, but it still annoys me.
So I loudly proclaim all the laws she has broken by wandering up here, and go into great detail outlining the severity and duration of her punishments.
Nothing I say elicits so much as a grunt from her, and my blood froths in spite of the chill air. Maybe the old woman is in shock, but her demeanour says she is placating me until she can get on to something better.
The trees and the air thicken, which normally lift my spirits, but the silence between me and the woman is a thin wire cutting through it all.
We pass three tower checkpoints and I am forced to report to smug-looking, stubble-faced men whom I can tell are biting back slurs.
We are within sight of the stark fortress, two tall ramparts bordering a jagged-topped wall. The battlements are dotted with patrolling archers.
They are only partly protecting our lush fields. More importantly, they prevent anyone from getting out to the heliostats, which makes the old woman’s presence even more mystifying. How could she have snuck by them?
Maybe the woman has not understood a word I have spoken.
“Do you even speak Hellezunge?”
She snorts and chuckles, the first noise she has made beyond breath.
Her derisive attitude feels too much like that of the men, who only acknowledge my existence when they are about play their nasty tricks: hiding embarrassing Dunkellian mushrooms in my bunk, weighting my armour so I move like an oak, and soaking my clothing in rotten butter that takes months to wash out.
I feel the urge to lash out. Deep down, though, I know I would feel the same as when I
had knelt as a child beside my mother in the dirt, her hands tracing the corn stalks I had broken by running angrily through our fields.
I could not even remember what I had been angry about. All my mother had done was look at me with the sadness of a frozen harvest and said, “When you hurt them, you hurt us all.”
I would not lash out. I would follow the proper conduct with my prisoner. Light shines where you cast it.
The portcullis raises and I usher the woman through. Torches flicker. Moans echo from the walls.
We enter the warden’s chamber. He is a moustached man with his gut half supported on his desk.
“Name?” he asks, picking up a quill and barely looking at us.
This is it. Now the old bag will get it for being insolent.
She answers, to my astonishment. “Silreena Wesolek.” Her voice is as rough as an avalanche.
“Crime?”
“Failure to present to checkpoints Gluhen, Spiegeln, and Anstrahlen,” I say. “Failure to produce proper identification. Finally, trespassing in the hallowed light.”
My last words make the warden stop.
“Twelve years,” I say, and he nods.
She is led away so quickly I am robbed of my chance to gloat in her face.
Silreena
Tired. Whole thing took too long. Nowhere unwatched in hallowed light. Will have to find another strategy.
Cell mates look starved. Feel bad for them. If I could save them too I would.
Guards never found pouches tucked under breasts. So different from when I was young.
Hear Me Roar Page 1
