Sylven guided them away from the tavern, keeping to the back of the houses, and away from any windows. Once they reached the edge, they slipped through the tree line, hiding between the branches.
The road leading to the mountain pass laid to their left, but they hesitated to move to it. Cyrus glanced over his shoulder. The robed man exited the tavern, his pale face contorted as he scanned the street.
After a moment, he turned back to the entrance of the village, and disappeared down the road. Sylven tugged on Cyrus's arm.
"Let's go. If we're quick, we should be able to make it into the pass before the sun rises."
Cyrus trailed behind Sylven as the young man led them through the brush. They were never far from the road, but avoided traveling too close, in case the man came back.
Eventually, the pass appeared in the distance, a gaping crevice between the two towering mountains. Cyrus quickened his step, but Sylven suddenly grabbed his arm, and yanked him back.
A second later, a shard of stone whistled past where his head would have been, and embedded itself into a thick maple at least a quarter of the way deep. Cyrus whirled around, and muttered a curse.
The robed stranger stood at the bottom of the road, his hands outstretched, and his lips casting an inaudible spell. As he finished, two more shards of stone rose from the ground, and whipped through the air, hurtling towards them.
"Get down!" Cyrus shouted. He shoved Sylven back, and instinctively slammed his hands into the ground. The forest rumbled around him as a wall of roots broke through the dirt, and intertwined to form a knotted shield.
Cyrus grunted as the shards struck the roots, burrowing deep enough that the tips pierced through. A bead of sweat dripped from his nose as he glanced at jagged stones, inches from his face.
Sylven yanked him back to his feet. "Let's go. Stay close to the ground, and behind the trees. Run as fast as you can to the pass. We'll lose him amidst the rocks."
With that, Sylven dashed away, nimbly darting between the trees. Cyrus struggled to keep up, cursing every step as a hail storm of needle shaped stones tore through the trees around him, shredding the bark.
Behind them, the man chased after them, his robes billowing around his waist. As he raised his hand to cast another spell, Cyrus noted a spider web of purple veins bulging along the man's arm.
A faint pulse of light rippled through the man's veins, followed by a shrill whistle. Ahead, Sylven spun on his heel, and drew his sword. His movements were fluid as he arced it towards the ground, parrying a jagged shard in the dirt.
Cyrus took this time to catch up to him, and the two broke through the trees, and ducked into the pass. It laid at least two carriage widths wide, and rocky outcroppings rose from the edges. Further ahead, a wall of boulders and debris blocked the pass, mixed with broken wagons, and scattered supplies. Dark red patches stained the ground, and a pile of cloth was stacked off to the side, along with bundles of rope.
Sylven swore, and glanced around, then gestured towards a narrow crevice partially hidden to the side. "There. Quickly."
They dashed forward, and dove into the crevice. Cyrus crouched low to the ground as Sylven whipped around, and threw his hands into the air.
"Wriese, Mythem."
A ripple of cold air passed through the mountain pass, sending a shiver down Cyrus's spine. He glanced down as specks of water rose from the stones, collecting together to form a blanket of mist.
At the end of the pass, the man's obscure form appeared, a shadow outlined in the grey tendrils. He stopped there, and stretched out his hands. Cyrus shrunk back as the low call of his voice echoed off the stones, muttering his incantation.
When he finished, a loud crack rang through the pass. Cyrus leaned forward, his breath catching as the ground in front of the man shattered, like a broken mirror. From the shards, a beast darker than night emerged, with skin of stone, and two blazing purple eyes.
"What… is that?" Cyrus asked. The beast resembled a four legged serpent, with a horn rising from its nose, and a muscular tail, tipped with a barbed end. The stone scales along its body glistened as it took a step forward, its curved claws clacking against the rocks.
Sylven narrowed his eyes. "A stone drake. I've only seen records of them, but there's no doubting it. The only problem is that they should all be extinct."
"Can we get around it, and back out of the pass?" Cyrus asked.
Sylven shook his head. "The moment it catches onto our scent, it'll hunt us down until either we are dead, or it was. Our only hope is that it misses us, and is distracted by all the bodies beneath the rocks."
The drake lifted its head, and sniffed the air. The robed man stood behind it, studying his surroundings. As his beady gaze passed over the crevice, Cyrus pressed himself against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the man's arm hung limply at his side, and appeared a pale, grey color. Almost like stone.