The crew of the Spitfire watched, wide-eyed and aghast as Delacroix’s magical energy streamed towards the sloop. The ethereal mass was like a fast-moving wave of dark clouds shot through with the winking, sparkling blue of a neon sign. The light made the inside of the clouds look cold, and the impression was confirmed as the mass engulfed the ship.

Caleb and the crew around him gasped as they felt an icy twinge run through their bodies, as if shards of ice had been jammed through their flesh. An awful, crawling, bone-deep feeling of despair grasped them next. A feeling so intense that most of the crew fell over where they stood.

The Murray brothers slumped on the deck over their firearms. Ferris Pender got off one last shot at the following frigate with his rifle, and then collapsed as well. Tears streamed from his eyes. Sienna lay panting for breath nearby, her eyes wide with terror.

Caleb’s head filled with the memories of his father throwing him out of the house. Memories of being beaten, of being betrayed. First by Jace, then by the woman he’d loved. Pain both physical and emotional wracked his body until he began to shudder.

He turned his head as his knees buckled. Then he fell, only just catching himself against the railing overlooking the quarterdeck. Donal had also collapsed at his post, weeping bitterly. But the man had managed to wedge one arm between the spokes of the ship’s wheel.

That’s the sole reason the sloop’s remained on course, Caleb realized, before his eyes went to the mainmast. The sail remained bellied out before the breeze. But none of the crew remained on their feet and able to adjust it if the wind changed suddenly.

“Canst thou not even try to remain on thy feet?” he heard Shaw demand of the Murray brothers. “‘Tis unbecoming of such warriors!”

“This is not a failure of nerve or heart,” Tavia said, as Caleb managed to turn back to look at the unicorn. A soft golden glow emanated from her, an inch or so beyond her skin. “This is a form of eldritch fire. One that enhances the feelings of fear and hopelessness.”

“Dost thou hear?” Shaw said, stamping a forepaw next to Ferris Pender’s prone form. “‘Tis magic, that is all! Gather thyself together, the darkness cannot be so bleak!”

Ferris stopped in his weeping to reply, “Why bother? What’s the point?”

The griffin turned back to mare. “Doth it enhance apathy as well?”

Caleb managed to stand, though it felt as if a millstone had been hung around his neck. He staggered towards the pair. Tavia’s eyes went wide as she spotted him.

“Will Kirren’s wonders ever cease?” she breathed. “Caleb! How are you even moving?”

“Through sheer cussedness,” he gritted. “That, and I’ve been here before. Knee-deep…hell, neck deep in despair. The kind that makes you want to crawl inside a bottle. To escape by sticking a needle in your arm. Or jumping off a bridge.”

“It’s Delacroix.” Tavia moved to his side and slipped her head under his arm, steadying him. “This is a type of eldritch magic more powerful than I’ve ever seen.”

Immediately, Caleb felt his spirits lift as he leaned against Tavia’s warm neck and her golden aura encompassed him. His heart felt as if a cement block had rolled off of it. He thought back to the relevant portion of her character sheet.

Unicorn-Specific Specialties: Light Spells, Purification Spells, Enchant Object, Horn-to-Hoof Combat… Paladin Sub-Specialties: Dark Magic Resistance, Deep Healing, Armor Enhancement

“He might have a magical artefact on board the Stone Angel to boost his power,” Caleb said, as he watched Shaw nudge one of the Murray brothers with a forepaw. In response, the man curled up into a fetal position. “You’re resistant to Dark Magic. But why isn’t Grimshaw affected?”

“I think he is affected,” Tavia said, after a moment. “After all, this spell primarily enhances fear. My guess is that griffins…just aren’t afraid of all that much.”

“Unfortunately, we humans have plenty to fear. Can you break the hold this spell has over my crew?”

“Not over the span of our vessel, no.” She tapped one hoof on the deck in thought. “I might be able to dispel it here over the afterdeck, but that will use up most of my magic.”

“That option’s out, then. I’m almost out myself. You’re the last person who has any magical abilities on board, I want to keep that in reserve if it comes to a fight.”

“I might be able to weaken the spell slightly over the entire ship,” Tavia suggested, but Caleb shook his head at the suggestion. “No? But it would at least relieve some of the misery.”

“Everyone’s so deep in despair, they’ve simply collapsed in place,” he explained. “If you weaken the spell without dispelling it, they might get ambitious enough to heave themselves overboard or harm themselves with their swords and muskets.”

Tavia let out a startled whinny. “You really think so?”

“Who knows the darker side of the human psyche better, me or you?”

She gave him a wry look. “Given how you’d planned on burning your own home down because you didn’t like your sire and dam, I shall yield to you on this matter.”

“There’s a more important issue anyway.” Caleb pointed aft and slightly to steerboard, to where the Stone Angel slowly gained on them. “At the speed and heading we’re on, either we’ll drift back into the chase cannons’ field of fire, or Delacroix will overtake and then board us.”

“I don’t see what’s left for us to do,” Tavia said grimly. “You, I, and Grimshaw are all that’s left to stand against the Myrkur. I cannot see a way around this dilemma.”

Caleb chewed that last sentence over in his mind.

If Tavia can’t see a different way this ends, then maybe neither can Delacroix. He thinks he has us. And if we keep playing this game on his terms, he’ll win for sure.

Finally, an idea came to him.

But what if I put a third dimension into play?

“So crazy, it just might work,” he muttered. “But it could. It has to work.”

“I do enjoy watching your mind teasing out a puzzle,” Tavia admitted. “Have you found another way to confound the Lord High Captain?”

“Maybe.” A ghost of a grin crossed Caleb’s face. “He may be a ‘Lord High Captain’, but he’s not really a blue-water sailor.”

“Meaning?”

“He’s intelligent, but not experienced. His pattern indicates two-dimensional thinking.”

Tavia raised an eyebrow at that.

“Shaw, I need your help!” Caleb called. Grimshaw limped over, though he winced as he kept one wing pressed tight to his side. “Want to be the first griffin to ever conn a sailing ship?”

The drake’s eyes lit up. “‘Twouldst be an honor!”

“What do you want me to do in the meantime?” Tavia asked.

“You’re going to remain up here on the afterdeck,” Caleb instructed. “Your job will be to update me on what that frigate’s up to. And you’ve got an even more important task. Do you have any more Light Spells? By that I mean: anything that can cast light?”

“I can come up with something. Do you wish a lightning-like flash once again?”

“It would be better if you can mimic some of these eldritch effects,” Caleb pointed to the blue lightning that continued to silently flicker around the ship. “So long as you’re prominent and visible, that’s what I need.”

The mare let out a snort of disbelief. “To what purpose?”

“To keep Delacroix’s attention riveted on you. The rifle squad didn’t do that much. But he’s got a running grudge with both you, Shaw, and me. Seeing you up here, pretending to combat his magic, that’ll do the trick.”

“All right,” she said, nodding.

Tavia turned her attention aft. She lowered her horn and increased the intensity of the golden glow about her. In a few moments, she looked like a fallen star gleaming amidst the darkness surrounding the ship.

Caleb headed for the steps down to the quarterdeck. A tidal wave of grief and sadness hit him as he moved away from Tavia. He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting off the emotions which threatened to engulf him.

I’ll deal with you later, he thought fiercely, as he envisioned kicking a blue-black bag marked DESPAIR into a corner.

He gestured for Shaw to follow him. The griffin took the steps down to the quarterdeck with some difficulty, letting out a panting breath as he approached the helm. Caleb carefully removed Donal’s arm from where it had been jammed into the ship’s wheel.

“Sorry about this,” he said, as he rolled his friend off to one side.

“Don’t mind me,” Donal snuffled. “I’m of no use to anyone. I’ve never felt so awful, go ahead and pitch me overboard like a sack of manure.”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Caleb promised, before turning to Shaw. “Just put out a paw and rest it on the wheel.”

Shaw did as requested. His wide leonine forepaw just managed to fit between two of the wheel’s handles. He let out a low, excited caw as he gripped the helm more securely.

“‘Tis fascinating!” the drake remarked. “Mine own paw can feel the movement of the sea coming through the wheel.”

“That’s the feedback of water passing the rudder, as well as the power of the wind in the sails,” Caleb agreed. “Quiet for just a moment, please. I need to see what’s ahead that I can work with.”

With that, Caleb closed his eyes as he brought up two of his Corsair powers.

Dead Reckoning Depth Sense

The ocean below and ahead melted away into broad fields of blue and green. His Dead Reckoning ability showed the ship plowing ahead to the northwest, directly into the heart of the Maulding Shoals. Small islands dotted the way ahead all the way from northwest to northeast. If Caleb’s goal was to avoid the treacherous archipelago, then he’d have to swing around and get pummeled by the frigate’s broadside.

But I’ve got something much better in mind.

He focused on his Depth Sense next. Ahead and to the north-northwest, the islands became denser, the depths a shallower, brighter green. In fact, they became so shallow that even the Spitfire ran the risk of grounding if she strayed too far from the main channel.

Then Caleb saw what he was looking for.

A small island lay just ahead. The piece of land was so low by itself that on the surface it was simply a grass-fringed sandbar. But under the water, it presented a deadly trap.

A rocky offshoot ran off due west into the main channel. A dagger-like pillar of barnacle-encrusted stone jutted out and up, ending in a blunt point perhaps three yards below the surface.

It was perfectly aligned to dig into an unsuspecting ship’s hull, splitting its planking and sending it to the bottom.

Caleb thought furiously, pushing through the despair and fear that clung to him like a wet jacket. Could the Spitfire make it over that rocky point without tearing her guts out?

Rule of thumb for a full-keeled vessel is that you need two feet of water to float every twenty feet of a boat’s length. We’re easily quadruple that, I think. But did those calculations include the weight of a crew, a unicorn, griffin, and four cannon?

He pushed the fear back once more as he made his decision.

Looks like we’re about to find out.

“Shaw,” Caleb finally said, “I need you to take us two points larboard. That means you need to–”

“Methinks I know how to do that!” the griffin protested, and he moved the wheel so that the sloop shifted smartly two points further west. “Verily, many a time have I watched thy helmsman perform these tasks, and I asked for his instruction as well.”

“Grimshaw’s doing a great job,” Donal blubbered, between sobs. “If I didn’t feel so miserable, I’d be really proud of him now.”

“The Stone Angel’s matching our course,” Tavia announced, from the upper deck. “She’s dead astern now. And gaining. Delacroix’s pointing to us while calling his crew on deck. He’s laughing.”

“Finally,” Caleb said. “That’s some good news!”

“How are our enemies laughing at us something positive?”

“That means they’re over-confident,” Caleb called back. “And if Delacroix’s calling his crew up, they’re not going to shoot at us anymore. They’re getting ready to board and take us as a prize.”

“Mine own eyes doth see islands ahead and to steerboard,” Shaw reported happily, as the griffin continued to steer the ship. “Shouldst I veer off to larboard?”

Caleb checked his Corsair-assisted senses once more. The underwater obstacle was close now, very close. The seafloor was already starting to slope up sharply.

“No, keep our course steady!”

“Aye, but there are rocks where the water turns green!”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

The drake let out a surprised chirrup as he realized what Caleb was up to.

“Thy course shall be kept, Captain!”

“The Stone Angel’s right on our stern now!” Tavia warned. “She’ll be within rifle range any moment!”

“Draw her fire if you can do it safely!” Caleb shouted. “Keep Delacroix’s attention on you for twenty more seconds!”

A dull clip-clop of hooves sounded on deck as Tavia began to pace back and forth. The golden glow surrounding her grew even brighter. It backlit the helm, throwing his and Shaw’s shadows against the main deck in sharp relief.

“Kirren take you!” Tavia shouted. “You are slavers, torturers, drinkers of other’s souls, men and women without honor! Come aboard and spend your lives against a true paladin if you dare!”

Caleb focused his attention like a laser upon the seafloor that reared up towards the ship. The point of the outcropping came into sharp focus now. It jabbed upwards like a stony bayonet lurking just below the muttering waves.

Lir and Danu protect us, he thought desperately. This is going to be close! If I’ve missed my guess how deep our hull goes, we’re as good as dead.

His breath whistled out as the ship’s hull moved over the point. The bow passed over the stone without problem. The broad wooden belly of the sloop came next–

–a deafening SKREEEE came from below as the hull scraped along the summit of the underwater rock. Caleb just brought his hands up in time to prevent being thrown against the forward rail.

With an ear-jangling CRUNCH!, the Spitfire came to a shuddering halt.