The dungeon corridor sloped upwards, steeper than Caleb remembered. The exertions of two recent fights caught up with him and he found himself huffing to keep up with the unicorn. From far up ahead, they heard a roar, followed by screaming and the desperate rattling of chains.

“Shaw’s in trouble!” Caleb exclaimed.

“Or causing trouble,” Tavia pointed out. She glanced at him, as if reluctant to speak. “I could reach him faster, but…”

“Never mind my slow human legs! Go!”

The unicorn took off like a shot. With a lash of her golden tail, she vanished around the bend up ahead at a gallop. Caleb redoubled his efforts, even though the stone floor was slick enough under his bare feet to make him slip.

He passed the now-empty alcove where Tavia had been chained up. Draymon’s body remained slumped against the wall. Caleb didn’t spare a second glance at him, nor the empty cell he’d recently occupied.

Finally, he came to a halt, panting, at where the passage widened and leveled out. Just ahead, on either side, were the cells he’d passed on the way in. They were filled with ragged, half-starved men and women.

Almost to a person, they cowered at the rear of their cells. Shaw’s massive leonine presence and half-outstretched wings practically blocked the hallway. The griffin let out a blood-curdling snarl as he stared down at two trembling Myrkur guardsmen. Shaw held one firmly under each of his lion paws.

Tavia trotted back and forth, trying to get the attention of the prisoners.

“Please listen!” she pleaded. “We’re here to help you!”

But no matter what she said, whenever she drew close to the bars, people shrank away. Caleb saw in an instant that they’d already been thrown into a near-panic by the griffin. Seeing yet another dangerous-looking mythological creature probably wasn’t helping.

In a flash, he knew what he had to do.

Caleb let out a breath, hoping that Shaw hadn’t given in to what Tavia called ‘blood lust’. He walked up past Shaw’s side, ducked under a wing, and set a hand on the griffin’s neck. He spoke calmly but firmly.

“Shaw, that’s enough. Keep those two pinned for the moment.” The griffin let out a huff but stopped his feral snarls. Caleb turned to his other companion next. “Tavia, back off a few steps. Everyone’s frightened of you two.”

“Me?” Tavia sputtered. “But I’ve been trying to…”

“Please, just follow my lead.”

Her tail lashed back and forth in consternation, but she did as requested. The cries of fear and panic from the cells died away. Eyes swiveled to focus on Caleb, followed by a wave of amazed murmurs.

Finally, a young woman with a tangled mane of deep brown hair stood. She came up to the bars, her eyes bright and wide in amazement.

“You…” she began. “You control these terrible monsters?”

Tavia fairly snorted fire at that. Monsters?

Caleb cast a glance in her direction.

Go with it, he said silently, hoping that she could read his lips.

“Yes!” Caleb declared loudly. “I control these monsters! So long as they are under my direction, they shall not harm you!”

Another wave of murmurs swept through the cells.

He must have magic, that’s how he controls those beasts!

That’s why the Myrkur brought him in to soul-drain, he’s powerful!

He is a master of monsters! Will he free us from this place?

“My name is Caleb Ledger,” he went on, still with a raised voice. He patted Shaw’s shoulder once more. “This is my friend Grimshaw, and like all griffins he thirsts for blood!”

“Thou hast laid it on rather thick,” Shaw murmured, but Caleb overrode him as he gestured grandly towards the unicorn.

“And this is my friend Tavia Morningstar. Her horn and hooves are razor sharp, and she eagerly gores and tramples those she takes the tiniest dislike to!”

“Rawr,” Tavia deadpanned. “Grrr. I am so dangerous.”

“We were prisoners like you, but are fighting to free ourselves from this place,” Caleb went on. “My friends and I need your assistance, for we are all newcomers to this place. If we free you, will you help us?”

In a flash, a tall brown-haired man came up to stand next to the woman. “Of course we’ll help you!”

A chorus of Ayes! and Yezzirs! followed from the rest of the prisoners.

Caleb brought out the keyring once more. He paused just as he brought it up to the first of the padlocks that held one of the cell doors shut. Every single key on the ring was half the size of the keyholes on the padlocks.

With a blink, he brought up the dim parchment-colored window once more. He took a look at the trio of horizontal bars in green, blue, and yellow. The green bar was still down slightly, while the blue bar had dropped by a third.

And the yellow one had dipped by almost half.

That’s it, he thought triumphantly. The green bar’s my health. Blue’s got to be my stamina, as I’m drained from the fighting and the running. Stress too, I’m guessing. And the yellow…that’s down from spending my magical energy!

His elation at realizing that he still had energy to burn fell way in an instant.

What if we need my magic at some critical moment? I don’t want to burn all of this on lock-opening if I don’t have to.

He turned away from the cell and went to stand by Shaw once more. He looked down to where the two guards were starting to turn purplish red from the pressure that the griffin had kept on their chests. The prickle of claws against their torsos had kept the pair silent in fear until now.

“You two,” he ordered. “Give us the keys to the cells.”

One of the two guards gulped. “I, uh, have no keys.”

Caleb looked over to the griffin. “Shaw, bite their arms off.”

“Oh, wait. You mean these keys,” the guard said, as he lifted the keyring with a shaky hand.

Without further comment, Caleb took the keys and opened the cells. Men and women poured out into the hallway, most keeping a discrete distance from both Tavia and especially Shaw.

Most of the prisoners were young or middle-aged, with a scattering gray-haired or bearded elders thrown in. Caleb noted a couple youngsters in the throng that were perhaps nine or ten. But his lips pursed in concern as he spotted a heavily pregnant woman being helped out of a cell by two other prisoners.

The brown-haired man and woman came up to him next.

“I’m Donal Sheahan,” the man said. His voice was as pleasant as the woman’s. It held an accent and cadence similar to the bartender Caleb had met earlier. “And this is Sienna. Thank you kindly for freeing us.”

Before Caleb could extend a hand in greeting, the two touched their foreheads with their index and middle fingers. Then they lowered their hands and made a slight, quick bow.

“Well, we’re not out of the woods yet,” Caleb said. “I, ah, arrived on Irongrasp just today. All I’ve seen is a little bit of the coast, and Deephold Port. Are either of you from this place? Is there any way we can flee this dungeon, maybe hide further inland?”