Turgar ignored Krag, not wanting anyone’s courage to falter this close to their objective. “Tell us, my Cemarite warrior brother, what legends surround Tirshal? Surely a mountain like this has inspired tales.”

Javo nodded. “Tales of warning. Most concern the gryphon and those who’ve sought it.”

“What warnings of the mountain?” Krag asked, eyes darting about as if searching for something in the darkness.

Javo shrugged. “I remember...only twain: Never blaspheme the great Aod. And light no torches.”

“I won’t blaspheme your invisible god,” Turgar said, “but I soberly contemplate lighting a torch. I’ve never had so much trouble seeing at night. My vision blurs in this infernal wet mist. All three moons should be out by now, yet I spy not even a glow through this black fog.”

“Why is lighting a torch forbidden?” Krag asked.

Javo hunched armored shoulders. “I suppose so that the gryphon won’t see your approach. But then, other Cemarites have faced the beast and lived.”

“Is it true the beast was shackled?” Turgar asked.

“That is what some believe.”

Krag chewed his bread thoughtfully. “If the gryphon lives to protect Cemarites, why then would it steal their gold and their children?”

“Again, my friend,” Javo said, “that is the riddle vexing everyone. But I’ve heard it won’t harm a Cemarite, unless they blaspheme the great Aod.” After a thoughtful pause, he added, scornfully, “Perhaps this is why none of Ustane’s Transition prophets dare undertake this mission.”

Turgar rummaged through his haversack. “Who knows where or what the truth is in the haystack of legends? I say we need torchlight to continue.”

Javo put the food and ale away. He thought of protesting, but wasn’t sure he believed the legends and warnings himself.

“We’ve made it this far with no light,” Krag reasoned, voice tainted with desperation. “We can go on as before, else lose the favor of surprise.”

Turgar struck flint to steel, and expertly sparked a flame to the torch in moments. Flame gave light, which haloed out into the fog around them.

“Behold!” Turgar exclaimed, pointing. His friends followed his gesture.

Farther along the ledge was a thick iron stake, the size of a small tree bole, driven into a crevice in the rock. The stake secured the link of a huge chain to the mountain.

Rising from a squat to a crouch, Turgar moved toward the stake on the balls of his feet. After examining it, he stood straight, lifting the torch high.

“This chain is anchored here, but goes further up the slope.” Javo and Krag rose and joined him.

“So the gryphon has indeed been chained,” Javo said.

Turgar squatted again, lowering the torch to his feet. With his free hand he scooped up some gravel for examination.

It was not gravel, but bone fragments.

“What evil is this?” gasped Krag. “Bones of hundreds of victims all around us!”

Without a word, Turgar clamped the torch between his teeth and began climbing the chain. Javo followed, then, reluctantly, Krag.

A short distance up from their erstwhile roost, Turgar stopped, taking the torch in one hand and extending it over a strange shape. The others, leaning out to see around their comrade, sucked in breath as the shape was illuminated. It was a skeleton, draped over a narrow shelf of rock. But not a man’s skeleton — the skull was different, elongated like a lizard’s head. But a large one, to be certain.

“Hold this to the light,” Javo said, handing something up to Turgar.

Turgar took it, and brought the torch close. “A gold coin?”

“We must be getting close,” Javo said.

Just as they resumed climbing, the huge chain trembled in Turgar’s grip as he heard a great scuffling noise below him. He looked down to see his giant Bruk friend dangling by one hand from the chain. But that one arm was strong, and pulled the rest of his body back to the chain for a safe grip. “Tell me you didn’t feel that!” Krag called.

“Feel what?” Turgar asked. “Are you trying to shake us off our perches?!”

“No,” Javo said. “I felt it, too. At least the air it moved in passing.”

“Felt what?”

“Something flew past,” Krag said. “It brushed across my back.”

“But you didn’t see what it was?”

“No.”

Turgar licked drying lips. He climbed quicker than ever, trying not to imagine what was truly happening.

He came to another iron stake, which pinned down another link of the chain.

Something flew past his back, close enough for him to feel the air, too, this time.

He climbed.

Krag cried out from below.

“What is it, Krag?” Javo asked.

Turgar felt something rake across his leather backplate, then scratch his unprotected nape.

The air rushed again, and something scraped the black steel of Javo’s armor.

They climbed.