These weapons had been installed to stave off attacks from slow-moving dirigibles, not agile, fire-breathing dragons. Even when the cannonballs and shells would have struck the creature, Morishtomaric either lazily flapped his wings in time to avoid them or simply raised a magical shield, and they bounced off. Ridge didn’t know if a cannonball would do damage to that scaled hide, even if the dragon didn’t shield himself. His bullets certainly hadn’t done anything during their last fight. The only good thing thus far was that Morishtomaric hadn’t breathed any more fire. The bad thing was that he seemed to be focused on Galmok Mountain. Aside from occasionally dodging a cannonball, he was ignoring the soldiers firing upon him. He kept sailing low along the rugged terrain near the outpost walls, and in his wake came more earthquakes. The tremors did not last long, but they shook the ground vigorously, causing the mountainside to buck and heave, almost as if someone were hurling explosives.
