Caleb stared down at the remains of the rearmost larboard cannon and its crew in shock.

Throbs of pain still beat against the inside of his skull, mute after-effects of the near cannon strike. Sound continued to filter back in through throbbing eardrums. Right now he mostly heard groans from the wounded below.

As horrific as the scene was, he forced himself to look up at the sail. Sunlight glinted from the few small tears caused by the flying shrapnel, but it seemed fine. Except for one thing.

It hung slack. Once the effect of his Squall Burst had ceased, the Spitfire had ended up in a dead calm.

That’s not good, Caleb thought. If we’re not moving, then we might still be within the Stone Angel’s field of fire.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a new screen blinked to life in his Quest Window.

New Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to exit the enemy flagship’s field of fire. STATUS: ONGOING

He tried to get to his feet, but his sense of balance had decided to remain on strike. Caleb forced his body to reconsider by rolling to one side in order to get to his knees. Then he groped for the quarterdeck rail with one hand. He swayed as he tried to rise–

–and Sienna grabbed his hand in hers. She leant her support as he finally made it to a more-or-less standing position. His quartermaster looked as disheveled as if she’d been tossed out of a waterfront bar, but she didn’t seem to be wounded in any way.

“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed.

“I’ll live,” Caleb replied, before looking over to the helm. “Donal, are you all right?”

His helmsman coughed before replying. “I’d like to find the owner of the herd of bulls that ran me over, but I’m still here.”

“Good. Keep us steady on. The only problem is, we’ve got no wind to propel us. We’re stranded.”

Sienna turned and spat to one side. “Delacroix’s spellcaster has us dead to rights.”

Caleb blinked as he realized something.

Wait a minute. Maybe that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t think so. Their Weathermancer’s been pulling overtime to hold that wind from the north, mostly to try and get the frigate off the rock jabbed in her guts. They’ve got to be at the limits of their power if I’m at mine.”

“You think that they’re scraping the bottom of the grain barrel?”

“Think about it. If they still had any magic left, the Lord High Captain would’ve had them switch over to a southerly wind. That would blow us back north, where they could finish us off with a full broadside. But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

Caleb staggered over to the remains of the larboard side rail. He looked out and then aft, confirming his suspicions. Far to the rear, the remaining three Gilarskan pinnaces had turned about to the north, avoiding the Stone Angel.

A dark, oily patch of broken boards and dead bodies lay closer astern. The remains of the Reckless. He felt little sympathy for the wrecked enemies aboard.

Off to larboard, Delacroix’s frigate still lay grounded. The gun crews were in motion, doing their best to swab out and reload their cannon. But one detail about the Stone Angel stood out to Caleb.

Her sails were slack as well.

“There’s no spellcraft being worked right now,” he announced. “We’ve just got a natural calm. If I can invoke even the tiniest bit of wind, we’re good to go.”

No sooner than he spoke those words than Caleb heard a deep-throated crackle of splintering wood. Heart in his throat, he made his way towards the steps leading down to the main deck. His eyes went to the yard-long chunk taken out of the boom.

As he watched, a jagged crack began to run along the length of the long, horizontal piece of wood. It halted after travelling a full yard but showed no signs of stopping for good until the boom had turned into a useless pair of splinters.

“Lir and Danu save us,” Sienna breathed. “We lose that, we lose control of the sail!”

“And we’re not getting out of here without a sail,” Caleb said, as he moved towards the stairway down. Pain shot down his legs, but he pushed that aside. “Come on, I’ll need your help!”

They made their way down, and then across a deck covered in chunks of wood and splotches of gore. Iron smells of blood and the scent of fresh-hewn sawdust made an odd pairing in his nose. A strange squishing sensation came from under the foot of one of his boots. He stopped by two of the former gun crew who looked dazed, but uninjured.

“Head below decks,” he ordered. “Get Doc Harper up here on the double. Do you understand?”

He had to repeat the order twice. Finally, one of the pair shook their head in the affirmative and got up. The second sailor followed the first, though both weaved like drunks as they did so.

Caleb drew his cutlass as he drew close to the shattered section of boom. A tangle of half-severed mainmast stays dangled nearby like a discarded fishing net. He yanked the bundle of lines down and slashed through the last cord holding it up. The twenty-foot long jumble of lines fell into his hand.

He sheathed his sword. Then he hefted the bundle of lines over the damaged boom. Caleb tossed one end to Sienna and then pointed towards the mast.

“Wrap this bundle of line around the boom as you work you work your way towards the mast,” he instructed her. “When you get there, loop the end of the bundle around and knot it as best you can.”

She nodded, understanding. “This’ll act like a splint. Won’t hold for long, though.”

“It’ll last long enough.”

Sienna did as instructed. Caleb watched as she wrapped the lines around the length of wood, tugging it tight, holding the two split pieces together. He cast a worried glance over his shoulder as if he could feel the gunners’ activity on the Stone Angel rising to a fever pitch.

“That’s done it!” Sienna called, as she twisted the end of the lines together and knotted what she could.

Here goes nothing, Caleb gritted, as he invoked the very last of his magic for one final spell.

Wind Cast, Minor

A breeze picked up from the north. While the sail didn’t billow out fully, it filled enough to swell the canvas and tug on the lines. Caleb let out relieved breath as he felt no opposition from the enemy Weathermancer.

Looks like my guess was right. Whoever Delacroix has over there, they’re as exhausted as I am. Only they didn’t have a unicorn willing to set them on fire to replenish their magic.

Then he felt the deck shift underfoot. Ever so slightly, he felt the Spitfire move. The damaged wooden boom groaned piteously, as if the wind caused it pain.

Come on, hold together just a few seconds longer! We’re just about there!

But the crack didn’t progress any further. Sienna put her hand to part of the split section, confirming that the wood pieces hadn’t shifted at all. She looked up and nodded at him.

A red screen popped up in his vision, one that made him wince.

WARNING: MAGICAL STAMINA 100% DRAINED. YOUR ABILITY TO CAST SPELLS HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY DISCONTINUED.

However, just as his magic winked out, a fresh breeze came up. It came out of the northeast, cool and gentle. Once again the boom let out a piteous creak as it shifted about, but the sail held the wind. The sloop continued to move southwards as Donal turned the helm to compensate.

“You did it,” Sienna breathed, as Delacroix’s frigate slipped by on the aft quarter. No more eldritch spells or cannon shots came their way.

To add further confirmation, screens began popping up right and left in Caleb’s vision.

REMINDER: Bonus Level Mini-Quest: Attempt to replenish your magic via an external source. XP Value of the next quest completed shall be increased by 15%. STATUS: COMPLETE REMINDER: Bonus Level Mini-Quest: Cause significant material or magical damage to the enemy flagship. XP Value of the next quest completed shall be increased by 10%. STATUS: COMPLETE Veteran Adventurer's-Level Quest: Attempt to weather a full broadside of a frigate’s cannon. STATUS: COMPLETE. Value of Quest increased by prior two Bonuses. Adventurer's-Level Quest: Attempt to exit the enemy flagship’s field of fire. STATUS: COMPLETE

Caleb forced himself to breathe as numbers began to flash and swirl in his vision like the spinning reels on a winning slot machine. As he’d seen multiple times before, one line came into sharp focus.

Congratulations, Soul Traveler. You have reached Level Fourteen!

Even as the Leveling-Up light-and-scent show threatened to engulf him, he became aware of his crew flooding up the stairways and onto the deck. Several assisted Harper O’Breen in bandaging the worst of the wounds suffered by the gun crew. Others crammed the larboard rail where it hadn’t been shot away to stare at the enemy vessel as it receded in the distance.

Shouts and laughs of joy went up.

“We made it through!”

“We beat Delacroix’s cannons!”

“That’ll show the Myrkur and the Gilarskans!”

“Three cheers for Captain Ledger!”

A raucous hurrah! went up at that. Caleb could only raise a hand in acknowledgement as the world rocked around him like a storm-tossed sea. He took a step forward, feeling that strange squish underfoot again.

He blinked owlishly as three familiar shapes swam before him. One was a golden horse with a horn, another a lion-bird thing. A pretty, buxom young woman with tightly bound red hair pushed the first two aside and caught him as he staggered.

“Captain!” Harper O’Breen said, as she and the other two shapes managed to lie him out on deck. “You’re wounded, there’s blood pouring out of your boot!”

That’s all right, he tried to say.

But the words were lost in a rush of noise and a fade to black.

He felt himself falling through a dark void. Wind caressed his cheek. Far, far below, he saw nothing but a sapphire-blue expanse of water.

A soundless splash! woke him from his dazed reverie. The water burst into a million bubbles, tossing him head over heels. The surface glittered above. He kicked for it, straining every muscle before his newly restored lungs burst.

A massive, wheezing PAH! sounded as he broke the surface.

Caleb looked around. An island, little more than a simple hump of sand with a trio of coconut palms, rose out of the water nearby. Head spinning, he swam toward it.

Within a minute or two, he felt a sandy bottom under his feet. He staggered out of the water, breathing hard, clothes dripping, and stared at the sight before him.

A glass-topped metal table, one that looked as if it could grace a Parisian bistro, sat underneath the shade cast by the palms. An empty seat beckoned on one side.

A matronly woman occupied the other seat. She wore a gown that glinted along its length with pearls and carved mother-of-pearl. Her hair continually melded and shifted with different shades of green and blue.

“I know you…” Caleb breathed. “Goddess Danu. Am I dead?”

She shook her head. When she spoke, her feminine voice reverberated in Caleb’s ears like a susurrus of night surf.

“You are very much alive, Caleb Ledger. Only suspended between states for the moment. Which gives me a chance to speak with you directly, however fleeting.”

“Um…” Caleb hesitated, abruptly conscious of his sodden, dripping clothes. It somehow seemed disrespectful to be in a goddess’ presence in such a manner.

Danu gestured with one hand. Instantly, his clothes were dry, cleaned, and perfectly pressed. With the same hand, she beckoned him to join her.

“Sit,” she said. “We have some interesting things to discuss.”

“We do?” he asked, as he crossed the beach’s warm sand to approach the table.

“Oh, yes. Among other things, I’m curious about the choices you’ve made since coming to this world. You certainly haven’t been listening to our warnings. Mostly, that confrontation and violence usually result in death.”

Caleb swallowed hard at that. His mind raced even as he took his seat.

I’ll give Jaladri this much: You never know what to expect. I certainly didn’t think a running fight with Delacroix and the Gilarskans to end with a grilling by my…Goddess? Advocate? Sponsor? I guess I’m about to find out why I’m in the hot seat.