Delacroix drew his sword back to deliver the final blow. The outer edge of Caleb’s arm felt as if it had been dipped in boiling pitch. He pushed through the pain and forced the muscles to do his bidding.

His blade came up just in time to deflect the Lord High Captain’s strike. The two swords met with a clang. The force of the blow staggered Caleb and drove him back towards the pier junction leading towards the Spitfire.

“You can’t save them,” Delacroix said, in a mocking tone. “You can’t even save yourself!”

Out of desperation, Caleb ventured a single attack. He made a quick slash at his opponent’s midsection. Delacroix turned, dodging the blade, and then came back with a furious set of slashes. Each hit sent a wave of pain up Caleb’s arm, rattling his teeth.

“Drop the cutlass,” the Lord High Captain hissed. “And I will make your end quick. Stop this insanity. Give up.”

“Don’t you remember what Lady Ravencrow said?” Caleb shot back. “I possess an impressive amount of will.”

“Yes. Or an impressive amount of stupidity.”

Two more slashes drove Caleb to one knee. He still held his blade up in defense, but it wavered, glittering red against the spreading fires on the dock beyond. The roar of flame, the crackle of sails going up like great sheets of dry paper rang in his ears.

And through it all, he felt as much as heard a dull, rhythmic thudding that made the wooden pier shiver as it grew louder and louder.

Delacroix stepped back to deliver an overhead blow. Caleb braced himself as the blade whistled down in its deadly arc–

–only to stop with a nails-on-chalkboard krraaangg!

A shower of orange and emerald sparks flew from Tavia’s horn as it blocked Delacroix’s sword. Her nostrils flared as she struggled with him. Neither man nor unicorn would give an inch.

Caleb saw the Lord High Captain’s free hand glow with green energy. It flowed from his fingertips to coalesce into a deadly looking orb in his palm.

“Tavia!” he cried. “Evil magic–”

The unicorn tossed her head back, breaking contact with the eldritch knight’s weapon. Delacroix’s free hand came around as if he were making a side-throw. Tavia spotted the brightly glowing orb just as it left the man’s palm.

She planted her forehooves. Her eyes sparkled as a shield of gold light winked into existence just ahead of the tip of her horn. The shield crinkled and wrapped around the green orb of eldritch magic, containing it.

A sizzle as the two magical energies churned together, turning white-hot.

Then with a KA-BOOM! the conjunction exploded. The force of the blast thew Delacroix back ten feet. Caleb tumbled head over heels, fetching up against Tavia’s forelegs. His eardrums throbbed, the ache in his arm burned, and he blinked against the sudden spots in his eyes.

“Caleb, are you all right?” Tavia asked, in a weary voice.

“Still in the fight.” He shook his head to clear it and got up. “Just…winded, that’s all.”

“As am I. But our foe hasn’t been vanquished yet.”

Sure enough, Delacroix was also back on his feet. The man’s face was bruised and bloody. Smoke rose from the tips of his beard, where the red hair had been singed black.

“Filthy paladin!” he raged, as he strode forward again. “I will end you for that, unicorn! I will end the both of you!”

An eagle’s cry pierced the heavens.

From out of the darkness, Shaw stooped like a hawk and dove for Delacroix. The griffin’s deadly talons glinted in the moonlight like razor-sharp spearpoints.

The Lord High Captain’s free hand was a blur as it went to his belt and brought out an ivory-handled pistol. He brought it up and squeezed the trigger in a single smooth motion. A bang! racked Caleb’s ears, followed by a heart-rending screech of pain from above.

One of Shaw’s wings crumpled, sending him tumbling in mid-air. With a skin-rippling crunch of bone and flesh and wood, he plunged straight through the pier itself. Shattered pieces of planking flew in all directions as the griffin took out the entire section of dock separating Delacroix from Caleb and Tavia.

Caleb ducked as a hail of splinters rained down. Then he let out a gasp as the splinters were followed by a deluge of cold seawater. Tavia coughed and let out an annoyed snort as she shook her now-sodden mane.

As if to underscore what had just happened, Caleb’s Quest Screen winked on.

Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to survive a one-on-one duel against Lord High Captain Delacroix: COMPLETE. Bonus of 50% awarded for keeping all limbs attached.

Across the way, Delacroix stared at the newly formed gap. He tucked his spent firearm away, then turned and called back towards the Stone Angel.

“Guardsmen! I need some pistol work done out here!”

Caleb waved the Quest Screen away. He stared at the ragged void that had split the dock in astonishment. Then he spotted a dozen Guardsmen assembling on the frigate’s deck. He tore his eyes away from them and frantically searched the water for his griffin friend.

“Shaw!” he cried. “Tavia, do you see him?”

The unicorn craned her neck, checking one side, then the other.

“I…no, wait! There he is!”

With an explosive exhale, Shaw’s proud eagle’s head broke the surface. He thrashed about blindly in the water. Blood dribbled from both nostrils set high up along his jackhammer-stout beak. His great golden eyes appeared to have trouble focusing.

Caleb knelt by the side of the dock and called to him.

“Shaw, over here! To your right!”

The griffin locked onto Caleb’s voice and squinted up at him.

“Mine eyes have gone tricksy,” Shaw huffed. “I see thrice thy number before me.”

“Focus on the middle one,” Caleb advised.

Shaw paddled over, then grabbed onto the side of the dock with his forepaws. His leonine talons scrabbled for a moment before digging into the wood. The griffin flexed his muscles pulling himself partway out of the water.

Then he let out a groan and sank back down.

Caleb glanced back up towards the Stone Angel. The Guardsmen streamed off the frigate’s gangway and headed down the remains of the pier towards them. They each drew the first of their two pistols from their belts as they did so.

I don’t think I have anything powerful enough to stop these guys, he thought. Maybe…the Call Up Mist spell? What else do I have?

He reached out with his mind, envisioning the moisture of the harbor rising up in a wave. Forming a barrier so pea-soupy, so impenetrable, that the Guardsmen would hesitate to even try and grope their way through it. He saw it in his mind’s eye as clear as day.

A wall of patchy mist swirled into existence. The leading Guardsmen ran right through it without even noticing.

Dammit. Well, so much for Plan A.

“Shaw’s hurt,” Caleb said to Tavia. “Can you shield us? Buy us more time?”

“My shields block magic, not musketry,” she answered. “But I can buy us a little more time.”

Tavia trotted to the tattered, broken edge of the dock. She let out a breath, gauging the distance. Across the way, Delacroix gestured and shouted at his men to hurry up.

“Get up here,” he demanded, “and fire those weapons!”

She curled her head around and grabbed two of the last green beads threaded into her mane. A crunch as she bit into them. Then with a toss of her head, she flung them across the gap.

The beads rolled and bounced over the uneven planks. Finally, they burst into clouds of noxious-smelling gas. The first of the Guardsmen to get into range fell back coughing. The next two did their best to stick it out, trying to aim even when their eyes streamed with tears.

“Come on, big guy,” Caleb urged. “You need to get up and onto the dock!”

Once again, the griffin dug in his claws and tried to heave himself out of the water. Caleb now saw where Shaw’s wing lay crumpled against his side.

He heard the cracks! of pistol fire now. A shot whistled overhead. Another splintered the plank close to where he knelt.

“They’re firing blind right now,” Tavia warned, as she rejoined them. “They won’t be for very much longer.”

Shaw let out another groan. “Thou must leave me. Save thyself and the innocents with thee.”

Something burned inside Caleb at the mere idea of abandoning the griffin. He set his jaw. Then he wrapped his arms around one of Shaw’s sodden shoulders with a squelch.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” he gritted. “I won’t leave anyone behind.”

“Nor shall I,” Tavia declared. She lowered her head and clamped her teeth down on the nape of Shaw’s neck, making sure she had a firm grip.

Across the way, Delacroix cursed. He strode forward and used the edge of his sword to knock Tavia’s beads into the water. He coughed, but the gas finally began to clear.

“Damn your eyes!” he shouted to his men. “Now, get up here and finish the job!”

“Everyone, heave!” Caleb ordered.

With a scrabble of claws, boots, and hooves on wood, they finally managed to haul the griffin onto the dock. Shaw’s eyes still wandered as if unable to focus, and he staggered as if his limbs didn’t want to obey him.

“Shaw, you’ve got to keep moving!” Caleb said. “Our ship’s right up ahead!”

But his urging could only do so much. Shaw took a handful of shambling steps forward. He swayed on his legs for a long, precarious moment.

Then he collapsed on the boards in a pile of wet fur and feathers.