Freibuzar returned to the bone-covered outcropping, huge chain coiling like a serpent as he descended.

Turgar nodded, returning his arrow to the quiver. “It is these hellspawned fiends that eat out your nation’s substance, Javo. This creature tries to stop the plunder, yet is blamed for it.”

Freibuzar heard this. He leaned forward to rest on all four paws and his shoulders slumped a bit, wings drooping down from them like wet rags. His countenance transformed to radiate profound sadness. He focused on Javo. “Thy people vex me, Cemarite. Their cries of anguish sometimes reach the peak of Tirshal, even mine own ears. But conspire they to bring yet greater calamity upon themselves.”

Javo sheathed his sword. “My people have gone mad, Freibuzar. Now a king rules over them, and I fear they deserve him.”

Freibuzar blinked bewildered eyes. “Long ago, thy ancestor Cemar called on the name of the great Aod, asking for protection and prosperity. Aod Himself sent me here. Told me I must serve your nation, and protect them.”

Javo’s thoughts drifted back over the ages, to when the farms and villages coalesced into a city, to when the city and surrounding lands grew into the jewel of the known world.

“Why did they shackle you?” asked Krag.

“Madness,” said Freibuzar. “I never slept, but watched faithfully over the land. The first visitors told me that as their servant, I must submit to the chains. I was unable to stop all the plunderers after that, but Cemar still overflowed with abundant wealth. Later others came, and staked the chain down closer. More plunderers escaped me, but Cemar remained the wealthiest city. Later, another stake through the chain. Every generation hath shortened my tether. Now most of the plunderers, foolish though they be, are able to fly outside my reach and ravage at will.”

Freibuzar’s head raised level again, and he grinned. “I am thankful for thee. Because thou, and the light ye brought here, drew them into a pitched battle, we have reduced their number and the city may have some relief for a time.”

“These plunderers,” Javo said, “who sends them?”

Freibuzar locked eyes with Javo. “Thou knowest.”

“Rothquark,” Javo whispered.

“So it's true,” said Turgar.

“I can prove nothing,” Javo said, “but those we saw in the hooded robes answer to the hidden sorceress. I suspect she’s had some mystical influence on the Bard and Minstrel’s Guild for a few generations now, as well.”

“What could the witch’s designs be?” muttered Krag, not really expecting an answer.

Freibuzar shook his head slowly. “Man can be so blind, even when his natural eyes gaze upon the truth he seeks.”

The three warriors stared at the gryphon, Krag was confused. Turgar was thoughtful. Javo was angry.

Rather than explain his remark, Freibuzar's wings sprang out, then flapped down as he leapt from the ground with the strength of all four legs. Like a bolt from a crossbow he shot through the air, catching another dark fiend flying from the city.

Freibuzar tore the fiend asunder, dropping its remains down the mist-shrouded slope of Tirshal. Another purse fell toward the outcropping, but the three warriors’ attention was drawn to a larger falling object, emitting a high-pitched wail.

Turgar maneuvered underneath, and caught the wailing bundle, squatting as he did so to absorb some of the shock. The crying ceased with a gasp, then resumed with renewed fury. Turgar held a baby in his arms.

Freibuzar landed again; the infant saw him and stopped crying. Its tiny face broke out in a rapturous grin.

Freibuzar tipped his head back and roared. It was the roar of victory. The infant laughed.

“This one shall live!” Freibuzar said. “And thou shalt return her to the mourning parents.”

All human eyes bounced from the gryphon to the babe, and back again.

“This myth,” Javo began, with a sneer, “this lie that's been told about the gryphon being our enemy...it was the excuse traitors used to elevate Ustane. My half-wit countrymen believed it and clamored for a king. They not only surrendered their own freedom for this deception; but the freedom of every Cemarite.”

“Not just their freedom was sacrificed for the lie,” Turgar added, “but also their progeny, and wealth.”

“They're worse than jackals,” Javo said. “The ministers. The sorcerers. Members of the Bard and Minstrel's Guild. I knew it in my heart; but couldn't prove it until now.”

“Why would they drive their own country to ruin?” Krag mused.

“They themselves prosper by making others suffer,” Turgar replied with a shrug. “It's the way of things.”

“I was a fool for assuming men of my homeland would be any different from other men,” Javo muttered. “I left Cemar to chase adventure, assuming I would one day return to enjoy in my old age what I spurned in youth. Now there will be nothing worth returning to—because of lies, subterfuge, and misplaced fear.”

All fell silent for a long moment.

“What happens to the treasure which falls here on Tirshal?” Krag finally asked.

“Thou wert promised some of it as payment?” Freibuzar asked.

“A third,” said Krag. Freibuzar glanced soberly about, at the highlights of moon-glittering gold in the sea of bones.

“This is the price the 'king' hath set to rid his realm of he who watches over thy countrymen day and night.”

Freibuzar crouched on all fours again, his forelegs flat against the bone-covered ground. “If thou doth intend to collect this blood money, I warn thee, I am bound to submit to none but a Cemarite… one who blasphemes not the great Aod.”

Javo laid his helmet down and turned to Krag with extended hand. “Your axe, my friend.”

Krag exchanged confused glances with Turgar, but handed over his axe. Javo gripped it in both hands, and approached Freibuzar.

Sir Javo stopped beside the gryphon, who remained still, though his maned neck was completely exposed.

The axe was called Blood Drinker, and its heavy, double-bladed head had proven capable of cleaving anything.

“I am Cemarite,” Javo said, “and not a blasphemer.” He lifted the axe high, then brought it down with all his strength.