Chapter Thirty-Six. When Dealing with a Different Kind of Monster
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
WHEN DEALING WITH A DIFFERENT KIND OF MONSTER
FARREN
I don’t have much time to process my nightmare come to life.
One man steps in front of the rest, a lean figure in all black. The others blur behind him without my glasses. But I can sense each figure by their metal. There’s detesting someone on sight and then this—revulsion at their very existence.
“Leave now and you won’t get hurt,” his voice echoes off the cavern walls.
“I’ll say the same for you,” I breathe.
He cocks his head to the side considering me, then chuckles. I guess the purple bridesmaid dress and copper embellishments aren’t intimidating.
Shackles swing forward and connect to my wrist, yanking me to the ground. My knees crash against sharp stone. Silver glints on my wrist fastening me in place. Beside me James has also been pulled to the floor and cuffed.
“Then you two stay right there and out of the way for me,” the poacher says smugly.
For the first time, I don’t think about the ramifications of crafting above my level. I don’t care about revealing myself. I will protect Nity and her hatchlings with my life. I break the cuff like it’s nothing.
A single connection to the metal and the silver bracket snaps in two.
I stand up as James follows suit. With one glance I know he’s with me to protect these dragons.
No more pretending. No more hiding. If these men think they are going to walk in here and steal or kill my family, I will die before that happens.
The poachers behind the leader step back as I break out of their contraption.
Which tells me two things. One, others may hold silver weapons, but they aren’t all silver-crafters.
And two, they are uncertain of our skill sets.
But I want more than uncertain. I want them or whoever has directed them here to regret ever finding out about this cave.
My mind flares that this is Mr. Murphy’s doing, but I can’t dwell on how much these men might have been offered to poach Nity.
I focus on the ten threats in front of me.
Nity isn’t sitting back waiting either. She plates herself in gold and her haunches rise in spikes. The reaction, even behind masks, resonates in each man’s body language. Awestruck by her size and brilliance. Their uncertainty grows.
“It’s real,” one poacher whispers. “It’s really a golden dragon.”
Two other men bound forward, copper and bronze spikes crafted into their hands like throwing spears.
Another loads a crossbow and I clock it immediately for what it is—a tranquilizer.
They mean to put her down and rip each golden scale off one by one like the wyverns my family has saved.
But I also know this. Even in that savagery, taking her gold won’t be enough.
She’s the only known golden dragon in existence.
No one would settle for one coat when they could potentially have an unlimited cash cow.
They’ll want to take her. Knock her out and take her.
The men with the spears close in, ready to throw, and I have seconds to decide what to do.
“I’ll take bronze,” James says beside me and even with three words I know what he means, how we’ll work together. Channeling my focus, I wrench that copper spear out of the poacher’s hands and fling it sideways so hard the metal digs a foot deep into the wall. James does the same with the bronze.
We’re stronger. We’re better. We can—
Five spears soar through the air, an array of silver, bronze, and copper.
Those first two were feints and this, this is the real trap.
Nity roars, ready to bash those spears away.
But Nity still has those patches of missing scales from shedding.
If she’s hit in those chinks in her armor, she could die in an instant.
Her vulnerability screams at me to do something. Do something!
On instinct and pure fear, I call to the gold stacks behind me and craft the metal to spread out like a shield in front of us.
One moment later those five spears slam into my barrier.
The golden wall indents, five sharp puncture wounds, but they don’t pierce through.
Because no other dragon metal can pierce through gold. I can still do this. We can still win.
James looks at me before his eyes flash toward the spear indent right in front of him. An indent a mere foot away from his forehead. They had aimed to kill, and more than just Nity.
“Farren,” he breathes. In thanks, admiration, or fear, I’m unsure.
Beyond the wall of gold the masked men spout a string of curses. Their shock comes out like anger, a mad rush of outrage. “She’s a gold-crafter?” one hollers above the rest. “No one told us a freaking gold-crafter would be guarding our mark.”
My veins ice at the word mark.
“No one knew gold-crafting was even possible,” another answers in irritation.
“Nice trick,” that same lead poacher shouts.
“But what are you going to do, build a wall and trap yourself?” He gestures to the small space to my right where my golden metal isn’t covering.
His words hold a smile as he continues with, “By all means make my job easier, little bird, and cage yourself in.”
Little bird? I’m a little bird? If I’m anything with wings, I’m a dragon.
The men’s footfalls sound on the cavern floor. They are charging us. Trying to override our crafting with muscle and manpower. Even if I’m a better crafter than them it’s still two against ten.
My eyes fixed on the poacher, I shift more golden scales to finish off the wall.
With a wave of metal, I cut us off from light and the world slams into darkness.
Thankfully, the last thing I hear is the frustrated growl of the head poacher.
I called his bluff and I was right. He didn’t want me doing that.
“Farren?” James calls through the darkness.
“James.”
I step toward where I last saw him and promptly trip on my dress.
Without second guessing I craft a golden piece into a blade sharp enough to cut the fabric at my knee.
The dress rips in a loud anguished tear.
As I look back up Feyling lights dance above us, which produce enough light to spot James’s concern three feet away. In two strides he’s hugging me to him.
“Good job, Farren. You’ve bought us time.”
A rattling sob threatens to escape from my throat, from my every pore. Over James’s shoulder Nity paces in frustration and anxiety. She’s going to break this thing down and charge right at these men if we don’t do something and soon.
“I’ve bought us minutes,” I whisper.
“Little bird?” the poacher calls out. I guess we are on to negotiations.
“Little bird, if you don’t craft this wall down, we might just have to attend that party down the road.
It sounds fun. And I saw there are some dragons up there too.
Plenty of entertainment to be had while you sit in the dark. ”
James’s eyes widen at the threat just as mine do. “We can’t stay here,” he rushes. He wastes no time discarding his coat and tie and calling to Hort who’s silver coated in protection and standing firm behind us.
“Craft a hole big enough for Hort and me to get through, and I’ll draw them away.”
I’m already shaking my head. “They came for Nity.” They won’t leave here without Nity. No distraction could work and if it did, I’d be allowing him to sacrifice himself.
“I’m getting us out of here,” I say. “Best-case scenario, they never learn about the hatchlings. It’s too risky for them to leave and be seen. So, we’ll keep them hidden in the tunnels. If any of these men stay, protect the babies. If they don’t, fly to the wedding.”
“What do you mean if they stay? How are you going to draw them away?”
I pause. “I’m taking Nity.”
A blue Feyling light hits and exaggerates the furrow in James’s brow. “How are you going to take—?”
“I’m going to ride her,” I finish. I unbuckle the straps of my heels, remove James’s copper shawl, and push down the anguish tightening in my chest. Then I head toward the massive Rimback.
“Farren,” James warns. “Farren!”
I turn. “There’s no other way. She’ll need someone to shield her.”
“Hey, girl,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. She swivels on me, agitation spiking her scales like I’ve never seen before. Her tail streaks in an angry whip. She’s formidable. A predator. Right now, I need her to trust me.
I raise a soft palm. “I’m going to get you and your hatchlings out of here.
I’m going to protect you, okay?” Her reptilian amber eyes streak with predatory violence.
All she knows is I caged her in. She doesn’t understand what may await her.
I choke on the thought, on what stands outside my dented golden wall.
Tears stream down my face without warning.
“You just have to let me. Please, Nity. Please, let me get you out of here and to safety.”
For what feels like a lifetime we stare each other down. “Please, my girl.”
I gasp in relief when her head nudges my palm. Yes, she’s saying. Yes. Then she swivels to point at her babies tucked in the tunnels. “Them too. All of us are making it out.”
She huffs in answer, acceptance. Before I lose my nerve, I climb Nity’s front leg to her back.
Then I craft more gold toward me. The metal yields to my control easier than ever before, and I know it has to do with Nity, her trust. A true dragon bond sliding into place.
She’s allowing me full access to her power.
Gold wraps around my forearms and works its way upward into shiny sleeves and a shelled corset around my torso.
I might be wearing the first golden armor in centuries, and it feels … right.
I always wondered if riding Nity was possible.
With her spikes the notion felt out of the question.
But with her gold coating her the rises and ridges are smoothed just enough to find a seat.
Instead of riding her like a Sprinter where my legs hang off the sides, they just tuck and rest against the large expanse of her back.
“I’m going to get us all out of here,” I say. To James. To Nity. To myself even.
James stares at me with an open mouth. “You look good up there,” he says, soft in a whisper. He pauses as if to say more, probably protest my plan. Instead, he nods and jumps onto Hort bareback. One more nod of readiness, and I craft.
I mold the shield into the head of an icebreaker, shaping the wall into a sharp V. Then, with a scream and every crafting muscle I own I cleave our way through the cave to force our exit.
“You don’t want to do—” the lead poacher yells before his voice is swallowed in my onslaught of metal grinding against stone.
The men shout and jump to the side in order to not be run through.
Others sprint toward the entrance, diving into the ocean’s rush to avoid being smashed by my wall.
As I allow the gold wall to fall at the entrance of the cave, we greet light and air and a salty tang of freedom.
Nity leaps into the sky, wanting escape and those men away from her babies as much as I do.
It takes a moment with my weighted-down fear to realize we are airborne. I’m flying Nity, actually flying with her as she beats the air with her wings. My hair lifts off my shoulders and blows behind me. Wind, always bad while riding, smashes against me as Nity’s power surges.
The sun is a sliver against the water, minutes away from vanishing and leaving us in darkness.
I rise through the air like I can chase the last rays of light, like they are my salvation.
Because without them I’m not sure I can defend Nity, detect every poacher.
As I turn, I spot nine saddled dragons chasing me.
Nine. Which means James only has one poacher after him and the hatchlings.
And I’m facing nine men ready to kill me.
I face forward again and urge Nity onward. Onward and upward and away from this nightmare.