Chapter Fifteen. When an Alloy Is Born
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHEN AN ALLOY IS BORN
JAMES
As I near two-foot-tall eggs, I try to process this is real. That I didn’t fall off Hort, bump my head, and imagine an extinct species.
Night has properly fallen and Feylings clinging to stalactites above us twinkle to life, brimming the cave in blue, yellow, and pink light. It’s dim, but as I fully enter the cave the light bathes Nity and the eggs in a fluorescent glow. The gold scales glimmer even brighter.
Behind them, every inch of the ground lays gilded.
Piles of golden scales sit in heaps big enough to swim in.
I’ve seen pregnancy shedding before, stacks of silver professionals divide to ensure the hatchlings have their fair share to eat while humans mutually benefit.
But maybe we take too much because I’ve never seen metal of any class tumbling from the walls like this.
It’s … I’ve entered a treasure trove the likes of which I’ve only read about in old stories.
Just a pound of this and someone could buy out my father’s entire estate.
All of it and one would become the richest person in the world, billions of sterlings.
Farren kneels next to the shaking egg and rubs it. The outer shell remains pristine, the dragon not breaking through like they should.
“Something is wrong with this one.” Farren glances at me as I sit across from her. “When I came in, Nity was nudging this egg and then it started shaking. I’m worried with the storm the sudden shift in temperature could be distressing it, but I don’t—”
To my right, the next egg over cracks and we swivel. A nose pokes through the broken golden shell. The egg tooth, the one part of a baby dragon that is always coated in metal at hatching, shimmers bright gold. The hatchling’s head pops out and they coo. Nity bends down, cooing back in welcome.
Farren gasps beside me. “I can’t believe I’m finally seeing this.”
“You can’t believe?” I already have a thousand questions. All of them must wait.
She turns to me. “Maybe this one just needs to know it’s time.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Before I can even try, Farren mimics the cooing, a yipping, growling back-of-the-throat roar. I echo the sound as we both bend over the quivering egg. Just one crack. All we need is one crack.
To my left, the other egg breaks with a satisfying snap.
The next dragon to emerge has that same impressive golden nose, but when a wing flaps open, I still.
Patches of gold and silver cover the rest of their body.
An alloy. I’m staring at an actual alloy as they tumble from their egg fragments in a clumsy flop.
Farren and I seem to understand at the same time.
If there is an alloy, that means these hatchlings aren’t purebred.
The father must be a silver Rimback, Sprinter, or some other breed.
Which makes sense. Even one live gold Rimback is a miracle.
For there to have been two and they happen to find one another and reproduce? Unlikely.
However, this is why dragons mate with dragons of their same metal, so their babies have a fighting chance.
Many alloys fail to hatch, to break through their shells, since they could have a different metal than their mother.
In the wild, it’s a death sentence, but under a crafter’s guidance, it’s possible.
“The baby can’t break the outer shell,” Farren says.
The egg convulses again.
Even as she announces the issue, the real problem emerges. “The only way to help is cracking the egg ourselves. But I…” Dread thuds in my stomach. “No one can craft gold.”
Farren looks at me, really looks at me with a fierceness in her eyes I’ve never seen before. She refocuses on the egg. With the Feyling lights, a golden hue splashes against her face. Determination has set into each of her features.
The truth settles into place. Stopping Bex as if it were easy. Nity trusting me to access her nest only after Farren hugged me. It all points to one truth I had not yet considered but feels inevitable. “No one can craft gold. No one except you,” I whisper.
She jerks at the statement, a wash of surprise. As she pushes her glasses up her nose, she sighs. “Finally figured it out, did you?”