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The Mythology of Beardsgaard ~ V ~ The Making Of Dragonsea ~ .iii


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≈ V ≈

iii. The Making Of Dragonsea

The honeycombed sea caves that lined the sheer cliffs outside the harbor of Honeyport erupted with a force felt throughout the realm. Their first explorers had not simply been destroyed, they had been erased.

Molten flame surged forth, igniting seabirds mid-flight and vaporizing the waters so efficiently the very ocean seemed to retreat in terror.

The fires flowed from the caves like thick poured honey at ten times the speed. There scarcely seemed enough mountain to contain it all. When the river of flames stopped, but a few laden heartbeats passed, and Blademount shook to its very foundations - the deep rumbling of continents at war, of a hundred ocean-sized drums beaten at the speed of sound.

The sky darkened and the heavy flap of beaten leather filled the air. There was scarcely enough sky to contain it. The people of Honeyport stood frozen in the markets and the streets for but a moment, arms and carts and stalls laden with treasures.

The mouths of a city full of people, men and dwarves and elves opened to cry out as the jaws of a thousand of the unknown dragons of Blademount rattled apart, sparks gathering in their throats. Not a sound escaped the ground.

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