Free Fool's Gold by Jon Hollins

stopped going out in the field a hundred years ago or so. Self-preservation, really. There was a high propensity for them to be consumed by the subjects they were studying. In fact, if my research is correct, I’m the first thaumatobiologist to attempt the field study of dragons in approximately two hundred years.”
    There was, Will thought, an unwelcome note of pride slipping into her voice at the end.
    â€œNo,” he said. “The problem is that you’re studying them, when really what we should be doing is killing them and selling them for parts.” The laugh that came up from him was an ugly, unfamiliar thing. That was something else Mattrax had given him. Bitterness. “At least,” he said, “that way I’d have enough money to pay off my taxes and get my farm back.”
    â€œIn my experience,” Balur said, pulling a small steel flask from his belt, “if you are needing coin, it is best to be just taking it.”
    Will heard his bitter laugh again. It sounded no better this time around. “The only one with any coin around here is Mattrax.”
    Balur unstoppered his flask, swigged, and smiled, showing every one of his stained yellow teeth. “So be stealing from Mattrax.”
    Steal from Mattrax.
    Memory rushed over Will like a wave, carried him to another time, another place.
    It was a sunny afternoon. His back was pressed against a tree. There was a blue sky above his head. Birdsong and laughter. The memory was a collage of details scattered over a sketched in world. He was young. What…? Six? Perhaps seven? His father had sent him to pick up apples in the orchard before they rotted but he was shirking his duties. So was Firkin.
    The man was… Was he so different back then from the man Will had met in the cave? His beard was cropped more closely, perhaps. But his hair was still wild, though perhaps more in the way a hare is wild than a wolf. And the potbelly was yet to fully manifest. There was less gray and more brown about his temples. And the eyes… They stood out clear in the memory. There was a calmness there that no longer existed.
    Eighteen years ago. Barely any time at all, and somehow a lifetime as well.
    â€œIt’s good here, Firkin,” Will had said, his voice reedy with youth, the words spat around a mouthful of apple.
    Firkin had nodded, taken the time to swallow his own mouthful before replying. “You da runs a good place.”
    â€œNo.” That wasn’t what Will had meant. “This place.” He swept his arm expansively. “Kondorra. The valley.”
    He expected Firkin’s smile. Firkin had a smile that shone in rooms like the sun shone through the window. He had a smile that got in your belly and lifted it up like it could carry you away over the hills.
    But Firkin didn’t smile. Firkin grimaced instead. “She’s seen better days, Will. This valley has.”
    Will didn’t understand. But he didn’t want Firkin to know he didn’t understand. Firkin didn’t treat him like he was little. Firkin treated him like he was big. And Firkin was funny too. He told jokes that made Ma cluck her tongue. Will didn’t want Firkin to start thinking he was little and stop telling jokes.
    â€œYeah,” he said instead. “But the dragons keep it nice.”
    He’d seen Mattrax once. And if he was honest it had been terrifying. The crashing of his wings. The roar of his voice. The panic of the animals. His mother’s sharp shriek. The tightness in his father’s eyes. But afterward… Afterward there had been something magnificent about the vastness of the dragon, of knowing that he was
theirs
. Of knowing that he had chosen to take Kondorra and make it his special place.
    He knew about the gods, of course. His ma and pa had taken special care to make sure he knew Lawl, and his wife Betra, and their children, Toil, Klink, and Knole. But the gods got confusing with Cois