Caleb leaned out over the larboard rail and squinted against the glare of harsh sunlight, both fore and aft.

Sure enough, three of the four Gilarskan pinnaces continued their pursuit. The Reckless remained the closest by far. She stayed true to her name by tacking slightly to the larboard aft quarter, seeking to continue closing the gap in spite of the nearby shoals.

The Stone Angel lay up ahead, still pressed tight against the rock that had grounded her. The ship’s longboat had been lowered over the side. A group of Sea Vipers aboard had paddled the boat over to the frigate’s bow. The sailors used their oars to push on the bigger ship’s hull, trying in vain to free her.

Water came up in glittering splashes as objects were thrown over the side of the ship. The ship’s sails were bellied out with the wind. However, since the frigate faced due north, the same direction the wind came from, the canvas swelled towards the aft of the ship.

“That’s interesting,” Caleb muttered. “Tells me a lot about what’s going on over there. What we can expect.”

“Filling the rest of us in would be a worthy endeavor,” Tavia said.

“Prayer’s up,” Donal agreed. “I’m with Miss Morningstar on this one.”

“Delacroix’s not going to wait for the tide to lift the Stone Angel off that rock,” Caleb explained. “He’s doing everything possible to get his ship free as soon as possible. Lightening the load by throwing cargo overboard. Trying to push the bow back with a longboat. And now we know the reason the wind shifted suddenly from the north and gave the weather gauge to the Gilarskans.”

Shaw snapped his beak in annoyance. “‘Twas not to give them the edge in combat?”

Caleb shook his head. “Don’t think so. They’ve got full sails out, so Delacroix’s trying to use the wind’s power to reverse course, pull the frigate loose. But we’re still committed to running the gauntlet of the Stone Angel’s broadside. Since the frigate’s stationary and we’re moving at speed, we should be able to pass through their field of fire before they can fire more than once.”

“But that’s assuming the Weathermancer out there doesn’t counter us.” Tavia tapped her forehoof on the deck on thought. “They could just as easily shift our course, or even throw up a strong headwind. Since you're out of magic, we'd be hard pressed to resist it."

“Should a headwind comes up, I can still tack through it,” Donal insisted.

“Yes, but it’ll be a lot slower,” Caleb said. “We can weather a single broadside if we’re lucky. But two or more…we’d be so badly damaged that we’d have to beach the ship.”

“Lest thou hast forgotten,” Shaw added, “Shouldst the wind drop as we pass the frigate, I shall fly across the gap and take out the cannon crews on my own.”

Caleb turned to fix his eyes on the griffin. “That’s a big no, Shaw. I’m ordering you to stand down.”

The drake’s head came up. “Thou wouldst deny me the right to earn glory–”

“Glory in death? No. I’ve been around you enough to know that it’s some weird-but-essential part of your griffin nature. But I refuse to let you earn it senselessly. I won’t spend your life to save us, not when the odds are close enough to even that we’ll make it through.”

Caleb’s mind scoffed at that statement. Close enough to even? My, we’re being optimistic that a small sloop can hold up to a sixteen-gun cannonade.

Tavia stepped in as she saw the griffin hesitate. “The hole in your side, the one that continues to bleed? That came from a magical round, shot from someone’s pistol. There’s only one person on board that ship who could have fired it.”

“Delacroix,” Shaw growled. “Aye, ‘tis a grudge match ‘tween us now.”

“Then I’m saving your strength for when the time’s right,” Caleb insisted. He glanced ahead, where Delacroix’s ship continued to draw ever closer. “When we’re seeking a battle, not running from it.”

Shaw listened to the words, and then bowed. “What doth thou wish of me, then?”

“I want you below deck, but close to the aft passageway. Be ready to respond if I call, but I need you out of the way when the cannonballs start flying.” Caleb went to the forward rail and called down to Sienna. “Quartermaster!”

“Aye, Captain?” she replied. “I’ve stationed Quinton’s gun crew at the first larboard-side gun. We’ll have two cracks at that frigate yet!”

“Good, keep them where they are. I want you and the rest of the crew below decks.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. Then she walked up to the quarterdeck steps and lowered her voice

“Myr take all, Captain. We’re just as dead if hit below as well as standing on deck.”

“True, but they’ll be shooting high,” Caleb explained patiently. “Even if they put a bunch of holes in us, odds are we won’t sink. They’ll be shooting topside, aiming to take out our mast, our mainsail, our helm, or the rudder. I want the minimum number of personnel topside because of that.”

“Then you’ll be needing Donal, and you’ll be needing me at your side,” she said flatly.

Before he could reply, she strode off, shouting orders and herding crew below decks. Both Ferris and Rory made their way past, making the two-fingered Avalonian salute before heading down the aft passageway. Shaw similarly bowed his proud eagle head as he followed them.

Caleb next looked to either side of his ship. The Spitfire was still trapped within the confines of the watery channel. Lines of low islands and treacherous sand bars still lay off both the steerboard and larboard quarters. No escape there.

“Donal,” he ordered, “Give the Stone Angel as wide a berth as you can to larboard.”

“Yezzir,” came the reply, “but I can’t get too close to the isles off to larboard, else we’ll run aground ourselves.”

“I’ll see how close we can get to the islands.” Caleb called up what had become his two most useful Corsair skills once more.

Dead Reckoning Depth Sense

The ocean below and ahead melted away into broad fields of blue and green. But he could only see fuzzy blobs across the horizon instead of the sharp outlines he was used to. Below the sloop’s hull lay a haze of aquamarine, its shades melting into a featureless blob.

A chill ran down his spine as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“I…I have to take that back,” Caleb said, as he tried to keep his voice steady. “I can’t see the depths below our keel. Use your best guess, Donal.”

“Aye,” came the worried reply. “Will do, Captain.”

On cue, the screens in his Quest Window blinked and shifted.

Veteran Adventurer's-Level Quest: Attempt to fight a way through the Gilarskan pinnace blockade. Alternatively, free your ship from combat and escape. STATUS: COMPLETE New Bonus Level Mini-Quest: Train your cannons’ gun crews to actually hit something in the heat of battle. XP Value of the next quest completed shall be increased by 10%. STATUS: COMPLETE New Veteran Adventurer's-Level Quest: Attempt to weather a full broadside of a frigate’s cannon. STATUS: IMMINENT

“Tavia,” Caleb said, as be moved off to the far side of the quarterdeck, “Before you go below, I need to speak with you a moment.”

The mare’s brow creased in concern as she joined him. “Of course, Captain. What might be the matter?”

“Is there anything interfering with your magic right now?”

Her mane rattled as she shook her head. “No. I could tell if something was amiss. Why?”

“Because I’m unable to use my spellcraft.” He did a double-take as he pulled up his Vital Statistics gauges. Once again, he saw a sliver of yellow as his reserves of magical energy slowly built back up. “No, that’s not quite true. I’m unable to use my Corsair Abilities right now. In fact, I don’t think they were working a short while ago either. My Bluff Assist fell flat when I confronted the Gilarskans.”

“So I saw,” she said dryly. “From what I understand, those fall under your Corsair Sub-Specialties. They are the product of what you are.”

“That’s correct, so far as I know.”

“Well, until just now, I’ve been using my Deep Healing on Shaw, trying to counter the dark enchantments placed on Delacroix’s ammunition. So my own Paladin Sub-Specialties are still in force. There is nothing external dampening your abilities.”

Caleb let out a frustrated breath. “We don’t have time to figure out what’s happening to me right now. If I can’t use my abilities, then I’ve got to have power for spells! All we have left is your own magic, and it’s not like we can transfer–”

His voice trailed off.

“Oh, here we go,” Tavia sighed. “Either you just went up another level, or your human brain has come up with yet another off-the-trail idea.”

She’s right about it being ‘off-the-trail’, Caleb thought furiously. Yet why wouldn’t what I have in mind work? It has to. Otherwise, we’re sitting ducks for the Stone Angel’s cannon.