Enri opened his eyes to see dark grey trunks and thick mist surrounding him. The trees creaked ominously in the light breeze, grinding against their neighbors with a deafening screech that made his skin crawl. Turning slowly on the spot, Enri tried to see through the mist for more than a few feet but gave up shortly. The mist seemed to move with him as if keeping him contained.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest was somehow familiar, but couldn’t place where he knew it from. Shaking his head roughly in an attempt to clear it, Enri started pacing forward, eager to leave this dismal place. He moved with a brisk pace, not quite running, but still hurrying, the trees in his peripheral vision flashing past. The way they moved kept making Enri think that something was sliding between the trunks apart from himself, but he pushed the fanciful thought out of his head.

On and on Enri walked, and after ten minutes of no break the grey backdrop, he began to jog. The trees continued to sway ominously as he ran past them, his pace quickening without conscious decision. For almost another ten minutes, Enri ran flat out, desperate to escape the dead forest.

A low growl sounded, somewhere deep in the trees. He slid to a stop, clutching a stitch in his ribs, and whirled in a circle to find the source. The growl had sounded all too familiar to him, much like the bleak canvas of grey trees around him. His hand instinctively moved to his waist to draw his weapon, but instead of closing around the cold, leather-wrapped steel handle of his estoc, his hand brushed only the belt there. He looked down momentarily in surprise, seeing no sign of any weapon, then glanced back up.

There it was. Nearly invisible thanks to the mist, just a pair of bright yellow eyes floating several feet off the ground. The eyes, as they had been before, were dead, and void of any emotion save hunger. They glared unblinkingly at Enri, and once again he felt the overwhelming sense of terror begin to lock his body into place. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his heart hammering insistently against his ribs as if in an attempt to escape.

Silently, the wolf slid forward out of the mist. The matted fur, grey flesh, and rotted bones poking out of the flank carried an overpowering stench of death, clogging Enri’s nostrils. If he could have moved, he would have gagged violently, and been sick. He wondered, with another thrill of horror, how the beast was able to move so silently despite its size.

The beast was fully in the open now, less than ten feet from him. Its head lowered as it crouched, the bone-chilling growl escaping from its mouth once more. Panicking, Enri tried to will his body to move. He wanted to run from the monster, but his limbs felt like lead, too heavy to move. Any second now, the beast would strike, and he stood still, waiting for it, his cowardly body betraying him!

The massive beast lunged forward, its paw swiping forth to slam into his chest, knocking him back. He flew into a tree behind him and felt his head smack into the brittle bark, dazing him. The shock of his head hitting the tree seemed to jar his body back to life, and he scrambled frantically, trying to get out of the way. But too late, the wolf lunged again. Enri’s vision went black in an instant, after a flash of yellowing fangs and a black rotted mouth.

Enri sat bolt upright, throwing the covers off. He quickly ran his hands over his torso and face, expecting to feel giant gashes and broken bones, but his body was fine. He’d broken out in a cold sweat while having the nightmare, but other than that, he felt fine. He forced his breathing to calm down, still able to smell the wolf’s putrid breath, hear it’s growling as it inched closer to its kill.

Abruptly, he vaulted out of the comfortable bed and crossed over to the window in two quick strides. He threw it open, feeling the relieving wash of cold air flow into the room, biting sharp against his damp skin. He drew in great lungfuls of the frigid air, feeling its icy embrace begin to calm his racing pulse.

After several minutes beside the window, Enri finally stumbled tiredly back to the soft bed, slipping back under the covers. He pulled the sheets up to his neck, feeling the cold air brushing against his face as he finally managed to return to sleep.

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After a hasty breakfast, coupled with the inevitable cup, or three, of coffee, Enri and Markus decided to set out early. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon by the time the pair exited the Eastern Gate, mingling with the flow of farmers and field workers, who were the only other citizens up this early. There were many yawns and resigned grumbles from the city folk that walked with them, talking quietly to each other about the tasks that needed to be done.

Enri and Markus did not speak to the farmers they passed, and likewise, the farmers did not seem to have much interest to spare on them. After about half an hour of walking, the path split in two, leading the small group of farmers to the south, and their farms, and Enri and Markus to the north-east, to begin the long journey to Draco.

Enri had learned from studying the map and asking other travelers that Draco was just over three weeks away by foot. He supposed by looking at the map that the mountain was a further two days north of Draco, which meant a long, exhausting journey. Normally, Enri would be daunted by such a trip, and he was a little deep down, but he knew that he had no need to rush, seeing as the Trials took a year, and this trip would only set them back by about a month or so.

It was difficult to read Markus’ emotions about this strange new journey they were taking together. On the surface, Markus seemed wholly indifferent about it all, merely treating this as a patrol exercise. His eyes constantly flicked back and forth, watching both sides of the trail ahead. Every once in a while he would turn full circle to cover the road behind them. He did it as randomly as he could, so as not to create a pattern that a potential stalker could memorize. It was one of the most basic tactics taught to them when they had first gone on patrol.

The first day was uneventful. They passed no travelers on the road, as the most frequent would be behind them, taking their time before setting out. Enri had never truly appreciated how large the country of Tyrman was, but as he stared out towards the horizon now, he had to admit that the scale of the land was a little daunting. They could see no sign of the massive mountain that was their goal, and by the time the day was drawing to a close, they couldn’t even spot any sign of Milagre in the distance behind them.

As they were traveling through one of the flattest parts of the country, there was no spot to camp that was more secluded than any other, so Enri and Markus opted to just walk off the path for about a hundred feet, to a small clearing formed in the tall grass. It looked like the grass here had been scythed away in large swaths, leaving a space about twenty feet across for them to sit. There was even a place for a campfire, with some of its stones disturbed by some small animals that had scurried past. The site was deserted, and the pit cold, so nobody had been by recently.

After they had set up basic canvas shelters and laid out their bedrolls, they busied themselves with preparing a meal for the night. Enri fished the parcel Mandra had given him from his pack and opened it to see what was inside. He gave out a soft whistle of surprise as the wrappings fell apart to reveal several large shanks of cold roast lamb, that looked to be from the same night he’d eaten before setting out. Markus leaned over to see what Enri was looking at, and a hungry look crossed his face at once as he saw the delicious meat.

Enri laughed at the look on his companion’s face, then rummaged in his pack for the two wooden plates he had bought from the market. Loading one of the lamb shanks and a soft roll onto a plate, he passed it to Markus, who accepted it with a brief grunt, which Enri took to be his own kind of thanks. He put a serving of lamb and bread onto a plate for himself as well, then quickly wrapped it back up and pushed it into his pack. At the bottom of the pack, Enri found another small bag, which he opened, looking for the coffee he knew was there.

They enjoyed a cup of the sweet brew, sitting around the fire they had made. Their previous grievances weren’t gone, but they seemed able to speak easily. They had the shared experience of Maravino training, and both were nervous at the prospect of this new journey they were undertaking. They spoke of the countryside they would be traveling through, and of what they thought might face them along the road.

They split the watch evenly between the two of them, taking two shifts each. As Enri took the first watch and Markus lay down to sleep, he moved away from the campsite for several feet, sitting back down in the long grass where he had a view of both his sleeping comrade and the road that they had camped beside. As the night progressed slowly, he saw no sign of a threat, and the peace continued throughout all watches.

They made good time in the first week, making better progress than they had expected. As they walked, many merchants began to pass them in either direction, some heading from Milagre, some journeying to the capital. They greeted the pair on foot in a guarded yet friendly manner and soon were swallowed by the horizon as they passed quickly on horses.

After nearly two weeks, they began to see the first glimpse of Draco mountain peeking over the horizon. It was still just over three days away, but only just now visible, due to its massive size. As it came into proper view, Enri remembered the stories that Samuel had told them back in Milagre. Searching his memory briefly, trying to remember what Samuel had said about this particular mountain, he frowned as he realized that apart from speaking about the monk, Samuel had not told them anything about it.

The road they had been following was a gentle curve, cutting through the smooth plains that made up the northern half of Tyrman, but now the road changed slightly. They came upon a fork unexpectedly, with the high road splitting in two. A worn wooden signpost was driven into the ground at the fork, with bold painted letters proclaiming that the right path would take them to Draco. The path to the left, which was a considerably rougher path, swiveled straight north and led to Jyrok. Enri knew that the northward path would bring them close to the mountain, but after two weeks on the road, their provisions were dangerously low.

“Guess we’ll have to go out of our way to visit Draco first,” Enri said quietly. 

Markus, who had been lost in thought looking at the massive mountain now fully visible, looming in the distance, shook himself back to attention.

“Does it really make a difference?” He asked simply. “It can’t set us back more than two or three days, right?”

Enri pulled out the map that Samuel had made them, frowning in thought. He traced a finger along the road indicated there, following it to the southeast, ending at Draco. Based on the legend inscribed on the bottom left-hand corner, Markus was right. He shrugged and rolled the parchment up carefully before putting it in his pack.

They turned southeast, continuing the gentle curve. Compared to the weeks of travel they’d been through so far, the remaining distance to Draco seemed to pass in no time. That night, they ate the remaining rations left to them, chewing moodily on the dried meat and bread, thinking longingly of the lamb shanks they’d devoured the first night. The bland meal was ended with another delicious cup of coffee, allowing them to retire for the night in good spirits.

It wasn’t until they came within sight of Draco towards the end of the next day that they finally truly appreciated how different the people of the country were. As far as cities went, even just the architecture was different. They weren’t even sure that the word city could apply here. It was more of a massive camp or settlement, with a short wall, barely ten feet in height, ringing around the perimeter. They could see no sign of a regular watch either, but as Markus pointed out, that was moot.

Enri and Markus had wondered in the previous days if they were going to see one of the ancient dragons in Draco. These were the beasts that looked the part, towering so high that they were able to vault castles in a single bound. However, with a mix of relief and disappointment, the dragons they saw as they passed through the ramshackle gates were of the variety that one was used to seeing throughout Tyrman.

They varied in color and size, but all looked basically similar. The children were obviously the smallest, ranging in size between a large housecat and a rather small dog. Enri saw a few hatchlings, no larger than a parrot, wrestling near the wall, stop to watch the strangers pass, a curious look in their eyes. His gaze flicked over to their nesting mother, a full-grown dragon that came about as tall as a battle horse. She did not react with hostility at the sight of them, but let out a short snort and peered at them warily, as if confirming that they were not about to move too close to her young.

As Enri had reflected back in Milagre, Draco was named as such because it was a city of dragons and dragon-kin. It looked to have nearly the same population as any large town but sprawled out over a space roughly the size of the capitol. There were very few houses visible, as the dragons preferred to sleep in the open. Just a few hundred feet from the center, however, there was a small collection of simple shacks, and Enri wondered at their purpose.

As they walked further into Draco, the residents around them took notice of them without surprise, merely showing a moment of notice. This behavior didn’t really surprise Enri, as it was a popular city and surely had to be used by visitors. He noticed that almost everyone they saw was gathering slowly towards the center of the encampment, where a massive open space was laid, with hundreds of large cooking fires were scattered around.

“Welcome to Draco, friends.” A voice said from behind them without warning.

Enri and Markus whirled quickly round in surprise and saw one of the city residents standing before them. He was a dragon descendant like Markus and looked to be about forty years of age. The bloodline was very clear in him, as he even had the beginnings of true scales on his face, and his eyes were yellow. He extended a claw-like hand in greeting. Enri shook it nervously, feeling the same hard scales on the otherwise human-like hand.

“T-thank you.” Enri stammered slightly. Markus threw him a scathing look out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. “We’re glad to make it before nightfall.”

The dragon-kin smiled, revealing very sharp looking teeth. “I am Vadova, appointed guide to travelers who pass through Draco.”

“Well met, Vadova.” Markus stepped forward, taking the lead to cover for Enri’s awkwardness. “I am Markus Ciayol, son of the souther plains clans. This is Enri Ciayol, an initiate of The Trials from Milagre. I am guiding him on his journey.”

The introduction, along with the information that Enri was taking part in the trial did not seem to surprise Vadova. He merely inclined his head in a passable imitation of a bow and smiled in welcome once more.

“It is a great pleasure to see an initiate make his way to Draco. Surely, though, you would be better served to make for Sheran to board a boat?”

Enri rejoined the conversation, having regained control of his emotions. “We will reach Sheran eventually. First, though, we’re going up the mountain.”

Vadova’s face showed a brief flash of shock and surprise. “Why the mountain? It’s filled to the brim with all kinds of dangerous beasts, and the peak is barren. What could you hope to achieve there?”

Enri smiled for the first time, but it was not a warm gesture. It was more a smirk than anything, and it told Vadova quite plainly that they had no intention of sharing their reason. Vadova for his part did not press the matter but shrugged and moved on.

“Well, you’ve come at just the right time. We’re about to settle down for dinner, and you’re welcome to join us, as long as you behave.”

Markus perked up at the mention of food, and even Enri couldn’t suppress a moment of longing at the mention of food. He hid his reaction, however, maintaining a polite but indifferent expression. “We? Are you speaking of your family, then?”

Valdova shrugged slightly. “Family, in a manner of speaking. We’re all bound by blood here, so we’re a kind of family. No. What I mean is that we are all gathering in the feasting ground.”

He gestured with a partially scaly hand towards the large clearing in the center of Draco, where the firepits Enri had noticed were being set up. Several of the fires were lit already, and the succulent scent of roasting meat was beginning to waft towards them on the breeze. A low grumbling came from Enri’s stomach at the smell, and he gave in, deciding that he could probably trust Valdova.

“Very well.” He bobbed his head briefly as Valdova had done, and extended an arm in what he hoped was a graceful manner. “Please, lead the way.”

Valdova raised an eyebrow at the strange gesture, but turned and led them to the feasting grounds nonetheless. Other dragons and dragonkin looked up at them as they passed, but gave no sign of displeasure or anger at their presence. Enri knew that the inhabitants of Draco were friendly people, and always treated strangers politely, at least until the strangers were rude or hostile. They may not want any non-draconic people living in their city, but that didn’t mean they didn’t like visitors from time to time.