“Draconas had been in human cities on the verge of war, and he remembered clearly the forge fires of the blacksmiths burning far into the night and the furious din of hammers pounding like war drums, turning out armor and swords, arrows and shields. Yet, he’d seen no soldiers in Dragonkeep. The darts were to go to the palace. Only the monks were permitted to enter the palace. Was the army composed of mad, dart-flinging monks? Draconas was familiar with the darts Anton was making—one such dart ha...d felled Bellona. Humans had long played dart-throwing games. Draconas had watched them and even participated in a few. He’d known humans who could throw darts with remarkable accuracy, but he’d never known one who could throw a small metal dart—no bigger than his index finger—with such force that it could kill a person a furlong away. The impetus behind the dart was dragon-magic. The monk used his magic to increase the force of his throw. Perhaps the monk had even been able to use the magic to assist the dart in finding its target.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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