The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company

by L. G. Estrella

  Gerald had found a nice place, far from any coconut trees after Timmy had pointed out that three necromancers had been killed by falling coconuts in the past year, and set up a pavilion tent. The bureaucrat was truly a man who came prepared for anything. In fact, Amanda had temporarily relocated from her forest of umbrellas to enjoy a cool drink inside the tent, most likely chilled wine although chilled blood wasn’t out of the question. She was a vampire. He was honestly surprised that she’d come along for this mission, but she’d mentioned something about visiting an old friend on the way back. Given how old she was, she was most likely talking about another vampire or an elf.

  Then again, there were other creatures that lived as long as she did, like dragons, protoplasmic horrors, and demons. Whoever she was visiting, he hoped there would be a minimum of property damage involved. They’d yet to make it through a single mission without causing property damage, but he had high hopes for this mission, and he’d bet James – that jerk – that he could do it. The only thing more fun than wiping the smirk off James’s face would be taking his money.

  “You should also ask Gerald if he has any sunscreen,” Timmy said.

  Katie paused mid stride. She was about to glare at him again before realising that he was actually right. He hadn’t wanted to mention it earlier because of how cliché it was, but Katie tended to sunburn more easily than the average person. Most of the time, she could get away with layering a thin, virtually invisible layer of shadow over her entire body, which was a trick she’d learned years ago after returning from a trip to the coast looking like a lobster after ignoring his advice. However, sunscreen would be easier, and Rembrandt would make sure that she didn’t miss any spots.

  Timmy’s attention shifted as one of his zombies reached out to him. He concentrated, and he saw what the zombie was seeing. Interesting. His zombie barracuda had spotted the remains of a large sea serpent. It was a pity. The creature had been dead for a long time, so although its massive bones were in excellent condition, the flesh had been picked clean by scavengers. He could reanimate it as a skeleton, but he usually didn’t bother making skeletons unless he had to. They took far more magic and effort to maintain. Timmy ordered the zombie to keep looking as he took out the map in his pocket and made a note of the sea serpent’s location. He might send one of his zombies around later to collect some of the teeth. They weren’t as sharp as dragon teeth, but they had their uses.

  “Any luck?” Timmy shouted, turning his attention back to the beach around him.

  Old Man laughed and gave him a cheerful wave. He was standing knee deep in the water with a fishing rod in one hand and some rats perched on his shoulders and hat. The rodents had fishing rods and hats of their own, and they seemed to be deep in conversation about how they would cook any fish that they caught.

  “Not yet. I think those zombies of yours scared away all the fish.”

  “They do that.” Timmy wasn’t hungry yet, but some well cooked fish for lunch sounded nice. “I’ll move them a little further away if I can. Hopefully, the fish come back here before lunchtime.”

  Old Man gave an amused chuckle. “I would appreciate it, but half the fun of fishing is in the waiting and the watching.” He smiled faintly. “When I was a boy I used to go fishing a lot. When I got older, I had little time for such simple pleasures. Of course, now that I’m an old man, I find myself with far too much time on my hands.” His fishing line wiggled. “Ah. It seems as though there is at least one brave fish around.”

  Timmy watched as Old Man brought in a surprisingly large fish – he always seemed to catch big ones – with expert ease before he glanced over to where the last two members of their group were enjoying some time in the sun. Not long after they had arrived, Spot had found a large rock on the beach. He’d claimed it in typically draconic fashion: by climbing on top of it, flaring his wings majestically, roaring, and spewing fire everywhere… before flopping onto it and falling asleep.

  Had Spot been a normal reptile, the rock might have gotten too hot for him. Timmy had actually fried an egg on it earlier for breakfast, but Spot was a dragon. He doubted that even lava would be too hot for him. Spot had managed to keep his draconic dignity – by flopping onto the rock in a suitably impressive manner – for about five minutes. Now, he was snoring loudly and sprawled out over the rock in an ungainly heap with one wing tucked under him, the other sticking into the air, and his head dangling over the side of the rock while he occasionally twitched and clawed at something in his dreams. It looked horribly uncomfortable. Just looking at Spot made Timmy’s lower back hurt, but the dragon didn’t seem to have any problems with it.

  Some of the demolition rats had also come along. They were perched in a coconut tree, sipping on some coconut juice and enjoying some roasted seagull after the bird had made the mistake of thinking they were prey. Timmy gave them ten minutes at the most before they started using hollowed out coconut shells to make some kind of explosive.

  Avraniel, meanwhile, had chosen to follow in Spot’s footsteps, and the elf had picked a place not far from Spot’s rock to nap. Based on her different choice of attire, she was planning to go swimming later. He wondered if she could get sunburned. She wasn’t particularly pale for an elf, but she was exposing a lot of skin. However, fire mages tended to be more resistant to heat-related injuries, and she was the most powerful fire mage he’d ever met. Two of the rats had also been assigned special duties. They were busy fanning her with palm leaves.

  Satisfied that nothing strange or potentially fatal was about to happen, Timmy turned his attention back to Katie. She’d managed to persuade Gerald to join her and Rembrandt in the sun, so they could build a proper sandcastle together. To his amusement, Gerald had not only managed to find suitable buckets and shovels for him and Katie but he had also managed to find some that were the perfect size for Rembrandt too.

  * * *

  Katie believed in doing things properly. Whether it was necromancy or cursive writing, whenever she did something, she did it to the best of her ability. It was most obvious with her necromancy. All of her zombies were as good as she could make them given the constraints she had to work under, such as the time she had available or the amount of magic she had to spare. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t rush to create heaps of zombies quickly, as a necromancer she understood that there were times when quantity crushed quality, but she preferred to concentrate on making her zombies as good as possible. Drowning her enemies in wave after wave of zombies was certainly appealing, but she enjoyed crushing her enemies with truly awe-inspiring zombies like Roger more.

  Now that she had decided to make a sandcastle, she was going to make the best one she could without using magic. Gerald claimed to know a thing or two about making sandcastles. He’d once been assigned to a coastal area where the local bureaucracy spent more time at the area’s admittedly fabulous beaches than in the office. The two of them would work together to craft the foundations of their sandcastle. Rembrandt and a few of the other rats were helping too. Their small size and dexterity made them perfect for adding finer details and finishing touches.

  Katie had asked them to demonstrate their prowess before they began work on the main sandcastle, and the rats hadn’t disappointed. They had swiftly built a watchtower out of sand, complete with little windows and other trimmings. In fact, it was an almost perfect miniature copy of the watchtowers they’d encountered on a recent mission, right down to the placement of the windows and doors. She had no idea where they’d learned how to do that, but the rats had worked for a lot of different people before coming to the castle. Maybe they’d worked for someone who liked sandcastles, or maybe it was a hobby of theirs. After all, the rats were adept at building things.

  Regardless of where they’d learned, Katie was glad to have their help. Her master would undoubtedly come over to critique their sandcastle, and she intended to leave him speechless with awe. Yes, their sandcastle would be so good that her master would have no choice but to admit th
eir superiority in the noble art of sandcastle building.

  With painstaking care, she and Gerald found the exact ratio of sand to water they needed to produce the best sand for building their sandcastle. It helped that Katie had kept detailed records of all of her sandcastle building attempts over the years. When she’d first started, her sand had either been too wet or too dry. By keeping records, she had slowly but surely progressed toward identifying the perfect sand for sandcastle building although the formula did need some modification depending on factors like humidity, temperature, and the grain size of the sand.

  She scowled. Her master was horrible. Whenever they’d gone to the beach, he’d made a perfect sandcastle with his magic and then challenged her to beat him. Since she didn’t have earth magic, she’d been forced to rely on experimentation, experimenting until she could establish basic standards and techniques. Her brows furrowed. Looking back on it, that was probably why he’d done it. Setting aside how lazy he could be, her master had a knack for teaching her things in ways that were equal parts bizarre, enjoyable, and aggravating. Alternatively, he could simply have done it because he found her attempts to make sandcastles without magic amusing.

  “Should we go for a more modern castle?” Katie asked. “Or should we do something in an older style?”

  Gerald pursed his lips, deep in thought. He had lathered himself in a thick layer of sunscreen before leaving his pavilion tent. Katie had put on some sunscreen too but not nearly as much as Gerald. He was wearing so much that if he’d been a vampire, there was a chance that he might actually have survived being in the sun. Then again, she had once asked her master about whether enough sunscreen could protect a vampire from the sun. He had just smiled and shaken his head before snickering and ruffling her hair.

  “Maybe we should go for an older style,” Gerald said at last. “It won’t be as elegant, but it will be sturdier and more structurally sound. It will give the rats more chances to add finishing details too, which will make it even more impressive.”

  “Good point.” Katie gestured and created a copy of the castle she had in mind using her shadows. It was always easier to work from a model. “How about something like that?”

  “It looks good.” Gerald studied the model intently. “But how about reducing the height of the walls a little and increasing the height of the central structure? It will make the towers stand out more, and if we add a moat, the walls will still look pretty tall.”

  “You mean like this?” Katie changed the shadowy copy to fit Gerald’s suggestions.

  “That looks great.”

  Beside Katie, Rembrandt and the other rats had some suggestions of their own. She modified her shadowy copy accordingly, and they discussed potential changes for another fifteen minutes before agreeing to the final design. She bit back a cackle. This sandcastle was going to be so awesome. Her master would have no choice but to fall to his knees while heaping praise upon her and the others.

  They worked on the castle for an hour. With great patience and care they crafted the main structure, slowly adding walls, towers, and other essential parts. Rembrandt and the rats were hard at work too, adding finishing touches like little windows and doors, as well as intricate detailing to the walls and the sides of the castle and towers. The rats were so light on their feet, and Katie could use her shadows to lift them up and down, so they could reach every part of the sandcastle without worrying about damaging it. It was all coming together nicely, and Katie’s grin widened as Gerald looked through his magic and came up with even more specialised tools that were just right for the rats.

  “Where did you get those?” Katie asked as the rats began to carve and detail the main door of the sandcastle. They were doing an excellent job. The door was amazingly detailed and incredibly lifelike. “They’re too small for children.”

  “You’d be surprised by some of the people who cross the border into Everton,” Gerald replied. He was taking a break to apply more sunscreen. “Not all of them are humans or elves. I was working on the border when a group of pixies entered the country. All of their paperwork was in order, so I let them through. They were miners, you see, and they had some extra tools that they were interested in selling. I thought their tools looked adorable, so I offered to buy them. I haven’t had much use for them since, but they’re coming in handy now.”

  Katie was about to ask why pixie miners were coming to Everton when a low rumble and a familiar voice interrupted her.

  Castle? Spot had woken up. The young dragon yawned and all but slithered off his rock and through the sand until he was right beside them. He enjoyed the feel of the hot sand on his scales, and his powerful muscles let him move through the sand like it was water. Fun?

  “It’s a sandcastle,” Katie said. She doubted Spot knew much about sandcastles. “It’s like a normal castle, only much smaller and made of sand. We’re making one because it’s fun and because my master doesn’t think I can make a good one without magic.” She paused. She’d been about to ask him if he wanted to help, but Spot didn’t exactly have the lightest touch. She didn’t think he would eat the castle, but there was a very good chance that he would accidentally destroy it if he tried to help. “Um… would you like to make one of your own?”

  If Spot noticed the lack of an offer to join them, he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he popped out of the sand and prepared to flare his wings majestically.

  “Don’t!” Katie cried. “You’ll blow it over!”

  Spot grimaced and hastily folded his wings. Sorry.

  Katie gave a sigh of relief and patted him on the back. “It’s okay. You’ve never seen a sandcastle before, so you don’t know what you should and shouldn’t do.” She glanced at Gerald. He was supervising the rats as they continued to add to the sandcastle. It should be okay for her to take a small break, and Spot was still almost a baby, albeit one who could slaughter grown men like a pack of wolves could slaughter lambs. “How about I show you how to make one? You can even make one of your own.”

  Spot chirped happily. Okay!

  Katie ignored the amused look her master gave her as she and Spot marched past him until they were a safe distance from the sandcastle. She knew Spot would do his best to avoid damaging the sandcastle, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Here? Spot pointed with one claw.

  Katie shook her head. “No. That’s too close to the water. See how the waves are breaking? If a wave hits your sandcastle, it’ll get knocked over or washed away. You need to build a bit further back, far enough to be safe but close enough to make getting water easy.” She led Spot to a more suitable location. “Here should be good. Now, the first thing you need to do is to gather some sand.”

  Spot nodded and lunged forward. Claws that could rend steel like paper ripped into the beach. A huge quantity of sand flew into the air, and Katie gave a strangled yelp before using her shadows to shield herself from the barrage. Her eye twitched. Her master wasn’t laughing at her, but only because he’d covered his mouth with both of his hands.

  Good? Spot wagged his short tail and pointed to the huge pile of sand around Katie.

  “Not quite what I was aiming for.” Katie giggled and pushed the sand away with her shadows. “You do need sand to make a sandcastle, but you can’t simply pile it up like that. You need to do it properly. Since it’s your first time making a sandcastle, why don’t I show you how to make one first, and then you can try?”

  Spot nodded in understanding, and Katie pointedly ignored her master’s pathetic attempts to hide his amusement at her plight. He might think this was funny, but she’d like to see him teaching a young dragon how to make a sandcastle.

  Katie used her bucket and shovel to get some wet sand before carefully arranging it into a makeshift sandcastle. It was fairly crude compared to the one she, Gerald, and the rats were building, but she only needed to show Spot the basics. The little dragon watched closely, utterly enthralled as first a rough castle took shape, followed by some walls and a few
towers.

  “Would you like to try?” Katie asked. “You can use my shovel if you want, or you can use your claws.”

  Spot eagerly tried his hand – or rather, his claws – at making a sandcastle. His first few attempts were somewhat less than successful. His claws were incredibly sharp, and he’d gotten very good at carving up his food or his enemies neatly. However, building a sandcastle wasn’t something he’d ever had to do before, and there was a big difference between making a sandcastle and cutting up a cow.

  “Spot, you’re not trying to kill the sand.” Katie chuckled as Spot growled in frustration. “You’re putting too much strength into it.” She paused as she looked for an example she could use to make things clearer. “Wait… you play with the demolition rats, right?” Spot nodded. He loved playing with the demolition rats, they were great at hide-and-seek, and they knew all kinds of tricks. “Treat the sand the same way you treat the demolition rats. You have to be gentle with them, don’t you? Otherwise, you’d hurt them.”

  Understanding filled Spot’s eyes. The rats were tough for small creatures, but they were still only rats. He was a dragon. If he wanted to, he could kill them easily, which was why he was always mindful of his own strength, and of his claws, teeth, and flame when he played with the rats. He didn’t want to hurt them.

  Slowly but surely, Spot’s attempts to make a sandcastle improved. Finally, he managed to build a crude tower with some walls and several buildings around it. It wasn’t much to look at, but Spot smiled proudly – and toothily – and nodded in satisfaction.

  “Not bad.” Katie scratched his belly. “But you might have to wake your… mother up if you want to show her. Sandcastles don’t usually last very long.”

  Napping. Spot shrugged. Don’t want to disturb. He peered at the castle and then gestured for Katie to move. Idea.