The drake lurked forward, sweeping its sharp gaze across the mountain pass. It moved like a lion, stalking its prey, getting closer, meter by meter. Cyrus glanced around, searching for something to aid them in their escape.
His gaze fell on a crooked tree, hanging over the mountain pass. Its twisted roots burrowed into a crack in the mountain, fitting into each notch and crevice. Cyrus eyed the tree, then the stranger and drake.
"Sylven, can you create a distraction to lead them deeper into the pass? I have an idea."
Sylven glanced at Cyrus. "I can do that. Lenwillo Urcrell."
A ball of light wavered to life near the end of the pass, around the rubble, then vanished. The stranger took a couple of steps forward, and drew a pale blade from his sleeve. He craned his neck, trying to see around the rocks, then clicked his tongue.
The drake lowered its body and crept forward, its tail waving through the air. Cyrus took a deep breath, and focused on the tree. The aether swirled through his body as he merged his consciousness with it.
Once attached, he moved his attention to the roots, growing them deeper into the crack, and expanding them. His veins burned as the magic flowed through him, widening the fissure inch by inch.
By now, the man and the drake were almost beneath it, only a meter away. A few pebbles fell around them, clattering off the stones. The man suddenly stopped, and looked up. His eyes widened as he noticed the tree, but it was already too late.
Cyrus pushed his magic to the limit, and like a raging river, the aether surged through him. Overhead, the tree bulged, growing twice its size in a moment. Unable to handle the force, the mountain split with a loud crack.
The man's face paled as the boulders bounced off the walls, hurtling towards the ground. They fell with a rumble louder than a herd of elephants, storming across the savanna. He stumbled back, covering his head, while quickly chanting an incantation. He barely uttered a few words before a stone slammed into his shoulder with a sickening crunch, flinging him into the wall.
His horrid scream pierced through the noise, before being cut off by a boulder. Cyrus winced, averting his eyes. Through the hail of stones, he spotted the drake, bounding down the pass, and using the walls to spring away from the falling rocks.
It was the last thing he saw before Sylven yanked him back, deeper into the crevice. A moment later, the stones tumbled into the entrance, sealing it off and throwing them into pitch darkness.
...
"Are you alright?" Sylven asked. His voice echoed off the walls.
"I- I think so. A bit bruised, but nothing broken." Cyrus stretched out his arms, feeling the damp stones and mossy edges around him. "Say, can you do anything about the darkness?"
"I'm working on it," Sylven said. "Lenwillo, Acilfur."
A small ball of light wavered to life, hovering above Sylven's hand. A curtain of dust fell around his head as he moved it forward, illuminating the entrance. It was blocked by a pile of stones, and debris.
Cyrus pushed against it, but the pile refused to budge. He stepped back with a sigh. "You don't happen to know any spells that would get us out of this too, would you?"
Sylven shook his head. "Not without killing us first, no."
"I thought as much," Cyrus said. He glanced around. A small gap in the stones near the back caught his eye, leading down a dark tunnel. Its entrance was about the size of his pack, just large enough to squeeze through. "What about that? Do you think it leads anywhere?"
Sylven squatted next to the hole, and waved his hand. "Lenwillo, Felreon."
The ball of light floated forward, slipping into the hole, and spiraling down the tunnel. After several hundred meters, the light flickered in and out of existence, before vanishing with a pop. Once again, Sylven uttered the incantation, and another ball appeared, floating around them.
"What happened?" Cyrus asked.
"It was too far for me to keep channeling the spell," Sylven said. He eyed the tunnel. "I'm not certain how far this goes, but I suppose it's a better option than sitting here, and waiting for the villagers of Mourtop to dig us out."
"True, and if it's a dead end, we can always come back," Cyrus said. He rubbed his chin. "How are we going to do this?"
"I'll go down first, and see what the bottoms like. If it's safe, I'll call up to you, and you can toss out stuff down. If not, I'll climb back up."
Cyrus nodded. "Alright, but be careful."
"I'll do my best," Sylven said. He unstrapped his sword, and wrapped his cloak around it, then set them beside his pack.
Cyrus scooted back as Sylven slipped into the hole, going feet first. The ball of light followed him down, circling his golden hair as he scooted over the rocks, wedging his torso in, and finally his arms.
Minute after minute passed, until half an hour had gone by. Cyrus watched as Sylven grew further and further away, going so deep that the light almost faded from view. Finally, there was a clatter of rocks as he reached the bottom.
"Alright. Toss down our stuff!" Sylven's voice echoed off the walls.
"Stand back," Cyrus said. He held his pack over the hole, then let it fall. The hole slanted downwards at such a descent that his pack managed to bounce and roll all the way to the bottom, where Sylven caught it.
He did the same with Sylven's pack, and then his sword, which slid most of the way, before getting caught on a shard of stone. Sylven climbed up to retrieve it, then returned to the bottom.
"Now it's your turn!" Sylven said. His bright blue eyes gleamed from the depths as he waited at the bottom. "Go down feet first, and you should slide most of the way. Just don't go too fast, otherwise you might scrape yourself on the rocks."
"Got it," Cyrus said. He lowered his feet into the hole, then wiggled the rest of his body in. It was a tight fit, but the slippery walls made it easier to get down.
From there, he scooted down the steep tunnel, lowering himself meter by meter. It didn't take him long to get the hang of, and start moving at a steady pace.
"You're doing good. Almost there," Sylven said. The pale light from his magic illuminated the grey stone walls, riddled with cracks and alcoves.
"How far do I-" Cyrus's words caught in his throat as his boot slipped on the stones, dropping him three meters at once. With a shout, he threw out his hands, and grabbed at the rocks.
"Easy! Are you alright?" Sylven asked. He raised the light, lighting the tunnel.
Cyrus took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. "Yes, I'm fine. Just cut my hands a bit."
He loosened his grip, taking his time to lower himself the rest of the way. When he reached the ground, he shook his hands in the cool air. They stung, and slivers of skin were stripped from his palms. Sylven rummaged through his pack, and pulled out a strip of gauze and his water skin.
"Here. Rinse off your hands, and wrap them in this. It'll help them keep from being infected."
"Thanks." Cyrus winced as he poured the cold water over his hands before tightly binding them. As he finished, he glanced up the steep incline back into the crevice they came from. "Gods above, I hope we find a different way out of here."
"I agree. Still, this looks promising," Sylven said, turning around.
They stood at the bottom of a rippled cave, beneath a ceiling of stalagmites, which hung like jagged teeth. Patches of lichen clung to the walls, glowing with a faint green hue, while three tunnels split away from the room.
"Which one should we take?" Cyrus asked.
Sylven studied the tunnels, then gestured towards the one on their right. "This one. There's a faint air flow passing through it, which means there should be an opening somewhere."
Cyrus frowned. "I'll have to take your word for it. I don't feel anything."
He stepped towards the tunnel, but Sylven grabbed his arm.
"Wait. We should mark our path, so we don't get lost." He broke a stalagmite off the ceiling, and leaned it against the tunnel entrance. "There. I think that should work."
Cyrus nodded. "Alright. Let's go."