Under the onslaught of green dragonfire, six or seven thousand warriors from the four forces were mercilessly devoured by the flames. Amid agonized, despairing screams and struggles, most were burned to ash. Few even left bones behind.
Yet as their lives ended, a warm power rapidly formed in the surrounding waters, then flowed steadily toward the three dragon eggs over which the members of Pattirios were praying.
By then, their cabin had grown terrifyingly hot, but those immersed in devout prayer noticed nothing. During their prayers, some power in their blood had fully awakened. They seemed to have lost all awareness of their own, utterly absorbed in their impassioned chanting.
The terrible dragonfire had robbed all four forces of the courage to keep fighting. Their only priority now was escaping alive from flames that seemed like a demon awakened.
More than two hours later, the green dragonfire finally began to die out. Yet fewer than a hundred ships remained afloat in the surrounding waters, and most were already riddled with damage.
Augusta, who had barely escaped with his life, stood on deck watching his ships slowly sink, his heart turning cold. That was his entire fortune, painstakingly earned over two years of voyages to distant Asshai and the eastern coast of Sothoryos! Those ships were laden with gold, gems, ivory, rhinoceros horns, spices, silk, and all manner of rare and exotic beasts.
But now, aside from his great flagship, only twenty or so battered purple-sailed ships remained. Fortunately, he had stored no dragonfire aboard his ships so he could carry more treasures. That alone had spared them.
The Triarchy's forces and the pirates of the Stepstones had fared even worse. Almost every warship they had sent into the attack was wrecked. The three allied factions had joined forces to seize