The steepness of the path finally lessened as the lantern lights of Deephold Port glowed brightly up ahead. Caleb and Donal walked on either side of their group’s leading edge. The sounds of raucous partying grew louder. Shouts and cheers accompanied the smells of pipeweed and spilled wine.

All too soon, the dirt path gave way to the smooth cobblestone of a major street. Caleb found his forehead and palms beading with sweat.

Here goes nothing, he thought, as his hand went to his whip. We’ve got no choice but to gamble on yet another bluff.

“All right, everyone,” he announced, as the group drew close to the first set of red-tiled houses. “Let’s raise those voices in song.”

As one, the people he’d gotten out of Deephold Keep raised their voices in an unsteady, out-of-tune chorus. Again and again, they chanted what Caleb had heard back at The Quiet Sailor.

Myr is my god! He brings me to my doom! Myr is my god! My soul is his to consume!

A group of two Guardsmen and three Sea Vipers turned onto their street. Up close, Caleb could make out the difference in their uniforms. The Guardsmen wore baggy, pitch-black uniforms kitted out with a belt that held a scabbard on one side and a pair of pistols on the other. The Vipers’ outfits were dark blue, more closely trimmed and lacked the firearms.

The Guardsmen looked stern, and more than a little annoyed. Two of the sailors supported the third, who reeled and sang drunkenly as they drew close. Caleb drew his whip and snapped it at the feet of the ‘prisoner’ closest to him with a crack!

“Chant, damn your eyes!” he barked. “Chant, you damned clod-hoppers!”

Donal and the others began doing the same, shouting between cracks of the whip.

Go on, sing! Sing to Myr!

Louder! The God of Darkness wants your soul!

Chant, if you don’t want another taste of the lash!

The off-key chanting became a continual wail. He’d heard more harmonious sounds from mating cats or nails on chalkboards. But if this melody got them out of here, he’d praise it to the heavens.

Caleb lashed the ground once more. Then he slid his free hand close to his sheathed sword. His eyes watched the approaching men carefully. If they so much as twitched, he’d at least get in the first blow.

One of the two Guardsmen sneered at the ragged, chanting prisoners as they went by. The drunken Viper gave a boozy wave. And the others didn’t give them a second glance.

I must be using up all my luck for the next year, he thought. Maybe this is actually going to work!

The group, still wailing at the cracks of the whips, passed two more Guardsmen and another sailor from the Sea Vipers without incident. Caleb counted the houses as they slowly moved past. Finally, the open-air courtyard of a large tavern was the last patch of activity that remained between them and the docks.

Long wooden tables had been set out in the wide, litter-strewn space. Several had passed-out sailors slumped at them, though others continued to sing raucously while guzzling more alcohol from their mugs. A couple of Vipers and a squad of Guardsmen leaned against the low outer railing, taking puffs of fragrant smoke from long clay pipes.

The Guardsmen jeered at the group as they drew near.

“Keep those whips going, boys! These clod hoppers ought to be doing this every night! Make ‘em sing, make ‘em jump!”

“You heard the man!” Donal flicked the whip again, nearly catching a man’s ankle and making him dance. “Get those heels up!”

One of the Vipers, a man with goatee and Roman nose, spoke up as Caleb drew close.

“You there,” he said, between draws on his pipe, “why are you taking prisoners back to the dock? We normally soul-drain peasants up at the Keep.”

Caleb had lined up his first retort already: What’s it to you? You want to question the will of Komtur Draymon?

But the words died on his lips as he got a look at the man’s uniform. This one’s dark blue clothing had a silver trim. That marked him as a Komtur.

New beads of sweat sprang out on Caleb’s forehead.

Not only does it make him more difficult to bluff, all the Komturs I’ve met so far are from my world. As soon as he uses his Outer Sight, he’s going to be instantly suspicious!

The Komtur let out a long puff of smoke, then raised an eyebrow as he waited for a reply to his question. Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb saw movement. Sienna’s hand crept slowly towards the pistol she’d concealed in her sleeve.

He quickly decided to change the tactics of his bluff.

“Sir! I know nothing of the Lord High Captain’s wishes,” he said, in a wheedling tone. “I was told to bring these prisoners to his ship, and I don’t even know which it might be.”

Caleb made sure to bow and scrape a little as he spoke. It helped keep his eyes from meeting those of the Komtur’s. Perhaps the man wasn’t from his world. And if he was, perhaps he didn’t select the ‘automatic’ function of his Outer Sight.

But he didn't want to stake everyone's chances on a ‘perhaps’, let alone two.

The Komtur guffawed. “Which ship do you think it is? The biggest damn frigate in the harbor, the Stone Angel. Myr take me, you greenies better hop to and learn who commands which ship if you ever want to become a Sea Viper!”

“My thanks, sir,” Caleb said. "I'll pay more attention in the future."

“And why are you bringin’ a horse along with you?”

“I was told by my Komtur that the Lord High Captain had something special planned, I didn’t dare ask any questions why.”

“Damned right you shouldn’t. Move on, then. Delacroix, he’ll flay you alive if you keep him waiting too long.”

Caleb bowed even lower and did as he was told. His gut relaxed ever so slightly as he and his group passed the last of the taverns and shops. The houses thinned out, giving way to ramshackle storage shacks, piles of raw lumber, and a now-quiet smithy.

His gut relaxed a tiny bit more as a quick update to his Quest Screen appeared in his vision.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to sneak through Deephold Port to the docks. COMPLETE. Bonus experience granted: 100%

He motioned with one hand, and the chanting died away. Without that constant noise, the harbor area fell suddenly, startlingly quiet. He heard the rush of wind, the wooden creak and squeal of ships on the water, and the roll of surf from further up around the curve of the island.

The half-moon shaped harbor curved off to the right, where several ships had been hauled up onto the beach for careening. Directly ahead, a wide wooden pier supported by pairs of pilings went out ruler-straight, only a foot or two above the water. Four offshoots from the main walkway jutted off to the left, illuminated at intervals by pockets of the same glowing stones he’d seen in the dungeon.

Yet more vessels had been docked all along the length of the pier and its arms. Close in, smaller vessels like pinnaces had been docked in the shallowest part of the bay. Further along, he made out sloops of various sizes, barques, brigantines, and what looked like several large-hulled merchant ships.

At the very end of the pier, far out into the bay, sat a hulking frigate. Her lines were stout but carved in such a way to hint at hidden speed. A triple set of masts, sails stowed neatly in place, gave an even broader hint. A scarlet pennant bearing a grinning black skull fluttered atop the mainmast.

Caleb noted two more facts that sent a shiver of alarm through him. First, he counted sixteen gun ports lined up along one side, each covered for now by heavy wooden hatches. Second, most of the vessels along the pier were dark, or had single lanterns at the bow and three set at the stern. But the frigate was brightly lit all along its length.

That’s got to be the Stone Angel. If she’s lit up, that means a good number of the crew’s still aboard. And…good lord, look at the broadside she could unleash!

“That’s odd,” Tavia remarked, as she joined him. Her horn winked back into existence as she did so. “Why are the Myrkur using those glowstones to mark the way instead of torches?”

“Ships are basically large piles of wood with tar and other flammables slathered on,” Caleb explained. “That’s why you don’t leave any open flame unattended. It’s also why we’re going to pick a ship that doesn’t have a lot of lights on. Better chance that no one’s at home.”

The unicorn chewed that over. “Ah. Indeed, that is useful information.”

Caleb turned to the people behind him, raising his voice as loudly as he dared.

“All right, we’ve almost made it. I need everyone to stay as quiet as they can and follow me. Once I pick out a ship, I want everyone aboard as quickly as possible. Who here knows how to get a sailing ship underway? Unfurling sails, undoing the moorings, that sort of thing.”

About half of those present raised their hands, including Sienna and Donal.

Praise be to Lir that they’re all islanders, he thought. Otherwise we wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Donal, pick out six or seven people to handle things dockside. Get us ready to cast off.” The man nodded agreement, so Caleb turned to Sienna. “I want you in charge of getting everyone on board, then grab every spare hand to get those sails unfurled. All of them.”

“Yezzir, I can do that,” she replied. “What will you be doing?”

“Holding off anyone who tries to stop us. Hopefully, we won’t be having any company.”

Caleb led the way onto the pier. His skin goose-pimpled at the chorus of creaky boards that sighed or groaned under the weight of the people that came along behind. He took a second to wave away the Quest Screen updates that popped up.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to steal a ship from Deephold Port. IN PROGRESS. Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quest:

Attempt to escape Irongrasp Island aboard a sailing ship: IN PROGRESS.

WARNING! Completion of quest shall trigger an additional Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to escape a squadron of the Myrkur’s Naval Arm, the Sea Vipers.

Lir and Danu’s Helpful Hints:

Congratulations! You are progressing nicely as an adventurer. Try not to die while you’re at it. The Myrkur value immediate obedience and submission to authority over critical thinking. This may allow you to avoid confrontation and violence. You should know by now what confrontation and violence usually result in, we still recommend you continue avoiding it.

Tavia’s hooves made dull thuds on the wooden planking as she walked next to him. She threw him a curious glance as they passed the smaller vessels close to the base of the pier.

“What’s wrong with the ships we just passed?” she asked.

“They’re pinnaces,” he replied. “Fast, but they’re too small for a group this size. Also, they don’t handle rough seas well. We need to keep moving forward.”

“All right, I see your logic. But every ship we pass we get closer to that fully lit one at the end. If you’re right about them having more sailors aboard…”

“Yeah, the crew of that frigate will be on us as soon as they see or hear anything,” he agreed grimly. “But it won’t do us any good to make our escape in the wrong vessel.”

Finally, they passed the first of the pier’s offshoots. Then the second. At the third, Caleb bent to squint at the hull of one of the sloops. He cursed and shook his head.

“That frigate’s got a couple lookouts on duty,” Tavia warned. “They’re going to spot us sooner or later. What’s wrong?”

“We can’t take that sloop,” he said curtly, before moving to the next. He cursed again. “And we can’t take that one either!”

“But–”

“There!” he said, pointing to the next ship, which had been moored just past the fourth and final offshoot of the pier. “We’re taking that one.”

The vessel in question was a medium-sized sloop, her single mast set a third of the way back from the bow. Her lines were sleek, and he could tell that her fore-and-aft rigging had been set to coax maximum speed when under sail. The blunt muzzles of three cannon jutted out from the port side's gunwale. In the light of her stern lanterns, he could just make out her name: Spitfire.

Caleb halted, motioning for the others to head left down the pier’s offshoot. From there, it was only a dozen or so yards over to the gangway that led up to ship's main deck.

“That’s our ride,” he said to Donal and Sienna. “You know what to do.”

“Aye,” Donal said. “We’ll get those ropes undone, by hook or by crook.”

Sienna turned to the group of men and women behind her. “You heard the Captain. As soon as we board, get everything out. Mainsail, jib, headsails, the lot.”

He blinked as the people began to file past as fast as they could walk or shuffle.

Captain? That sounded good. Damned good, as a matter of fact.

Quicker than he’d thought possible, Donal’s group had undone the first of the lines that had held the ship’s bow fast. They moved to the next set. Sienna boarded the Spitfire first, then and stood tall on the main deck near the gangway, ensuring that no one got trampled in the rush to get aboard.

Caleb kept watching both ends of the pier. The landward side remained quiet. He spotted movement aboard Delacroix’s frigate, but no one came towards them yet. He blew out a breath as he made some calculations in his head.

It’s possible that frigate could outrun us, he thought. Depends on how she’s handled. But those pinnaces surely can. They could board us. Twenty hardened Vipers per ship against thirty or forty weakened prisoners…I don’t like the odds.

“What are you thinking, Caleb?” Tavia asked.

“If we get out of this harbor, those pinnaces we passed further back up the pier could catch us. Pity the Myrkur don’t have any torches out here, anything we can use to light them up.”

She turned and shook her mane, displaying it to him.

“My red beads are enchanted to burst into flame,” she informed him. “I’ve only got a half-dozen, but I think it’s time to put them to use.”

He grinned at her. “Go to it!”

With a clattering thud of hooves on wood, Tavia took off at a gallop back towards the base of the pier.

Suddenly, he heard a shout. He whirled and spotted a pair of Sea Vipers who’d emerged from the Spitfire’s lower decks. One drew his sword and charged the intruders boarding his ship. The other brought up a long flintlock rifle and cocked it.

An eagle’s screech cut the air. Shaw swooped down out of the darkness. The griffin made a deadly slash with his talons as he arced back up into the night sky. The rifle-bearing sailor fell overboard, making two separate splashes as he hit the water.

“Good one, Shaw!” Caleb exclaimed.

But the sailor’s companion hadn’t noticed. With a yell, he waved his cutlass wildly as he came at Sienna. She calmly pulled her pistol and shot him down.

The gunshot echoed up and down the pier.

That does it, Caleb thought. No way someone’s going to miss any of that.

Sure enough, a trio of Sea Vipers came pounding down the Stone Angel’s gangway. They headed towards Caleb, who still stood blocking the offshoot towards the Spitfire.

“Hold it right there!” the lead man shouted, as he drew his cutlass. “What’s going on?”

“We’re good,” Caleb called back. “Everything’s under control. Situation normal.”

“We heard a shot!”

“We had a slight flintlock malfunction, that’s all,” he bluffed. “Everything's perfectly all right. We're all fine here now, thank you. Uh, how are you?”

The man frowned as he drew closer. “Who are you? Which Komtur do you report to?”

In answer, Caleb drew the first of the three pistols at his belt and squeezed off the weapon’s one shot. The impact of the metal ball spun the Sea Viper completely around before knocking him into the water.

The other two sailors turned and ran.

“Boring conversation anyway,” Caleb muttered, before yelling up to the quarterdeck. “Sienna, get those sails out! We’re going to have company!”