Caleb nodded as he looked over where Spitfire had been replaced with the name of the slave ship, the Disgraced Damsel.

“That was well done,” Caleb said, and the two boys beamed. “Now, I need my lookouts back aloft. Go wash off any paint on your hands and get to your station.”

“Yezzir!” the two said in unison, before dashing off.

Decklan Patrick let out a laugh at that, as did the remaining men. They removed the ropes before taking them and the board back down to the main deck. Caleb leaned over and gave the paintwork one more appraising look.

“It should pass muster, Captain,” Patrick said. “The only difficulty we had was keeping things steady enough to paint over the Spitfire’s original lettering. We’ve held a brisk and steady southerly wind for the past day and a half with no letup.”

That’s no surprise, Caleb thought. I’ve been using Wind Cast and Wind Shift for most of both days. It’s cut into my magical energy, but at least I didn’t have to burn any XP.

“Couldn’t be helped,” Caleb said. “We’ll have an edge so long as I have some of my Corsair Sub-Skills working. They’ll start to decrease on the third day. And speaking of which, it’s about time I did a course and depth check.”

Patrick watched curiously as Caleb went to the railing that overlooked the quarterdeck and helm below. His Captain looked in their direction of travel, let out a breath, and then closed his eyes. He looked to Tavia and Sienna, but they remained quiet.

Caleb mentally invoked the two skills he wanted.

Dead Reckoning

Depth Sense

A new screen that flashed red a couple of times popped up as he did so.

WARNING:

Corsair-related abilities operating at 75% capacity for the next three days. After three days, these abilities shall begin to sharply decline unless underlying causes for the decline are addressed.

He saw the mass of ocean blue spread out before him. The very edge of what he could see fuzzed out as before. However, that distance was noticeably shorter.

Caleb grumbled to himself. ‘Seventy-five percent working’ is another way of saying ‘twenty-five percent kaput’.

Right where things began to fuzz out, he saw a gray-brown mass in the shape of a half-circle. Steep slopes rose up from the blue, topping out in a flat surface like that of a tabletop mesa. The other half of the island remained hidden from view. But he was able to make out two canyon-like openings in the island perimeter.

That’s definitely Matagorda. We’re closer than I thought.

He shifted over to his Depth Sense vision. As the water below melted away before his eyes, he heard low voices from the three crew members close to him.

“I don’t understand, what is he doing?” Patrick asked.

“Hush, don’t be a ripe cabbage,” Sienna scolded him. “This is important.”

“The Captain has more than just spellcraft at his disposal,” Tavia added. “Hopefully, this isn’t affected by the artifacts on that island.”

The Spitfire’s keel glided high above a deep abyssal plain in Caleb’s vision. Once again, the view fuzzed out slightly closer to the ship, but he followed the ocean’s bottom over towards the two canyon-like openings in the island ahead.

Both fell sharply into the depths. While the passageways were narrow, they remained deep blue. That spoke to a depth as far below the keel as anyplace in the open ocean. He opened his eyes and took a breath before speaking.

“Matagorda’s just over the eastern horizon. We should be able to make port today, so long as my weathermancy holds up.” Caleb raised his voice and called down to the helm. “Steady as she goes, Donal. And two more things. Call down to Noack Miley haul up our Myrkur banner. Also, if Shaw doesn’t get back from scouting in the next hour, have our lookouts sing out as soon as they spy land.”

“Captain,” Donal called back, “any shoals or reefs I need know about before takin’ us down one of Matagorda’s canyons?”

“Doesn’t look like it. Matter of fact, it’s so deep, I’m not sure we’ll have enough anchor chain to reach the sea floor.”

“We likely won’t,” Patrick agreed. “All ships that pull up to the shore at Matagorda are guided into quay channels and lashed in place. Also, if we took the black and green striped banner off the Damsel, it’d be best if we flew if off our stern quarter.”

“I made sure we took it,” Sienna affirmed. “But why do we need to fly it?”

“The Myrkur use it as a signal that a ship either needs provision or are comin’ in to pick up cargo. Should work a treat when we’re arriving in port like this.”

“All good information,” Caleb said. “If you have any more like that, let me know.”

“Aye, that I will,” Patrick went silent. He wrung his hands for a moment before adding, “Captain, are you sure you want to be doin’ this? You think we can just waltz into port and hope no one will blow the gaff on who we really are?”

Caleb looked the man in the eye. “Yes. That’s exactly what I think we can do. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“I’m not questioning your leadership, Captain, I swear to Lir and Danu that I’m not. But my way, using the longboat and freeing a dozen prisoners, doesn’t put us all at risk. Your way does.”

“Perhaps you just haven’t seen enough how our Captain operates,” Tavia said quietly. “I’ve learned that he is much more resourceful than one might think.”

Caleb threw Tavia a grateful glance before speaking to everyone present on the afterdeck.

“Okay, there’s a few things we all need to know. I decided on this course of action once I went through the rest of the Malum Kane’s documents. First off, the Myrkur naval strength in these waters is substantial. This includes several brigs, a half-dozen assorted schooners and ketches, and ten or so sloops. These sloops are listed as the same make, or design. Which means that once our new name’s been painted on the stern, our ship is indistinguishable from any other sloop in the Myrkur’s naval forces.”

“But the crew…” Patrick objected. “And the captaincy? What if Sims or the harbor master is expecting a different captain? Or Malum Kane?”

“We’re keeping most of the crew below,” Sienna answered. “And we’ve gathered up as many sets of Sea Viper and Guardsmen uniforms as possible. Anyone above deck is going to be dressed identical to one of the cultists.”

“As far as being recognized, it’s not likely,” Caleb said. He patted his jacket pocket. “The documents off the Damsel included a docking pass for the harbor master, as well as the papers to collect the ‘chattel’ direct from Sims. It doesn’t say who has to pick it up, either. Just that someone with the command authority of a Sea Viper Captain or a Komtur.”

“And what if we run into a Myrkur Captain or Komtur?”

“It’s a risk, yeah. But not a big one. It’s a big navy, and what’s more, there’s no correspondence between Komtur Kane and Ravencrow or Delacroix. No one’s expecting him. So far as any Myrkur officer on Matagorda is concerned, I’m just a replacement captain on his delivery run. We know that the death cultists can be bluffed. We did it once before when getting out of Deephold Port.”

Yeah, Caleb’s brain helpfully supplied. But your bluffing failed once, too. Against Komtur Ozul on the Taipan.

No sooner had Caleb finished speaking than he felt a strange dragging sensation course through his body. He put a hand out on the rail to steady himself, though he didn’t feel any vibration coursing through the ship itself. A second screen flashed red in the corner of his vision.

WARNING:

Your magic-related abilities are being suppressed by anti-magic talismans or other dark magic sources. Spell effectiveness reduced by 25% and increasing.

“Are you all right, Captain?” Tavia asked.

“I’m…” Caleb looked over to her. “What about you? Are you feeling all right? I think we just crossed some kind of limit where Matagorda’s spells are weakening mine.”

The mare tapped her forehoof in thought. She lowered her horn and spoke a couple Latin-sounding phrases under her breath. Her horn glowed for a moment.

“I feel like I’m moving through dense fog, or water,” Tavia finally said. “I realize your concern, given that Matagorda’s anti-magic is supposed to affect magical creatures. But my spells seem unchanged. As is my mind.”

“Captain!” came a cry from aloft. Aiden leaned out from his post and called down. “Steerboard side, forward quarter, and high up in the sky! I think something’s wrong with Grimshaw!”

Everyone on the afterdeck squinted up into the morning sky. Sure enough, a gold-white figure approached towards the ship from high above. But every now and then, the approaching drake’s wingbeats seemed to hesitate. His eagle’s head shook back and forth, beak snapping in agitation.

Once the griffin closed the distance to the Spitfire, he stooped like a hawk, talons outstretched. Then he dove for the ship. A chilling screech echoed in everyone’s ears.

A new screen appeared in his Quest Window, one which made his guts clench.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Prevent griffin companion from reverting to a completely feral state before he destroys your vessel, injures himself, or kills members of your crew. STATUS: IN PROGRESS.

“Shaw’s in trouble!” Caleb said, as he dashed down the stairs.

The thud of feet and the clatter of hooves sounded in his wake. He arrived down on the main deck just as Shaw landed with a sharp tak! of talons digging into the wooden deck planks.

Shaw let out a snakelike hiss as Caleb drew near. The feathers at the drake’s neck rose like the hackles of an angry cat. Patrick and the crew on deck reflexively drew their swords or pistols.

“Hold!” Caleb shouted. “Hold, dammit! No one fires on or in any way attacks my third mate!”

He took another step forward. Shaw’s eyes were clouded, confused. But Caleb managed to lock his eyes with the griffin’s golden ones long enough to pull up the drake’s Character Sheet. One new entry attracted his attention.

Individual De-Buffs (Existing): Physical Abilities Reduced by 25% from Age-Related Limitations. Mental Abilities affected by 70% due to anti-magic spellcraft.

Caleb thought back to when Tavia had first met Shaw. Her prejudices against the griffin had been clear from the start.

Griffins are fell beasts, unintelligent and savage!

He considered. That was the version of Shaw’s species in Tavia’s world, the world called the ‘Morning Land’. Perhaps that was the difference between there and in Shaw’s world of Andeluvia. That magic itself elevated griffins to sentience and self-control.

If that was the case, why wasn’t Tavia affected? Why was she still speaking and casting magic? His eyes flicked to his Quest Window. Sure enough, no new screens appeared to offer him a new quest to help the unicorn.

Once again, his mind went back to a Character Sheet. Tavia’s this time.

Paladin Sub-Specialties: Dark Magic Resistance, Deep Healing, Armor Enhancement

Caleb blinked. Could Tavia be immune to what was happening to Shaw? After all, she’d been able to resist Delacroix’s dark magic. The same magic that had driven the crew mad with fear or despair.

“Tavia!” he hissed. “Stay at my side!”

The unicorn moved forward with him. Shaw didn’t back off a step, but he leaned away on all legs, wary of their approach. Another hiss escaped his beak. The drake slapped the deck with one leonine forepaw. His razor-sharp talons scored the planks.

Maybe I can remind his friend who and what he was. Maybe I can call him back.

Caleb invoked the Corsair Sub-Specialty he hoped and prayed might help.

Charisma Boost

“Grimshaw of the Reyka Pride!” he said firmly, invoking the griffin’s full, formal title. “Grimshaw of the Reykajar Aerie! I bid you return to us, remember your oaths of loyalty!”

Caleb felt his own magic amplify as Tavia stood next to him, increasing the power of his Wind Cast and Wind Shift spells. He felt a surge of excitement that his hunch was right. Shaw’s beak closed. He shook his head like he’d just emerged from deep water.

“Thou dost seem to be familiar…” Shaw said. “Verily, I have sworn an oath to thee.”

Tavia let out a surprised nicker, eyes wide as she in turn figured out what Caleb was up to.

“We both swore and oath to Captain Ledger, Grimshaw of the Reyka Pride!” Tavia stated. “Come forward, and reclaim thy honor!”

Shaw stepped forward as Tavia murmured under her breath, increasing the shine of her golden aura. It enveloped the griffin as he drew close. He shook his head once more, then looked mortified as he knelt before Caleb.

Caleb glanced at the new entry under Shaw’s existing De-Buffs.

Individual De-Buffs (Existing): Mental Abilities affected by 70% due to dark anti-magic spellcraft.

That was followed by an update in his Quest Window.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Prevent griffin companion from reverting to a completely feral state before he destroys your vessel, injures himself, or kills members of your crew. STATUS: COMPLETE.

Both screens winked out.

Shaw’s voice trembled. “Humbly, I beg thy pardon, Captain. I spotted yon island and went to espy its surrounding waters…then my mind went tricksy! I did not know what I was doing, only that this vessel was familiar to me somehow.”

“No apology needed,” Caleb said reassuringly, as he stroked the top of the griffin’s head, literally smoothing down his feathers. “You just showed us how Matagorda can affect magical creatures. And Tavia’s shown how we can counter it.”

“Aye, we much remain close for the duration of this mission,” the griffin agreed. “‘Tis lucky that we are the only ones affected.”

“Lucky indeed,” Sienna agreed, as she and Patrick lowered their weapons.

Caleb froze. Wait, are Shaw and Tavia the only ones who could be affected? What about…

On cue, a new screen appeared in his Quest Window.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Prevent additional magical companions from reverting to a completely feral state before they: a) damage/destroy your vessel or b) kill / injure themselves and/or members of your crew. STATUS: IMMINENT.

“Tavia, Shaw!” Caleb called. “We've got problems in the great cabin! Come on!”

Heart pounding in his chest, he turned to run. Caleb took the steps to the quarterdeck two at a time, mind awhirl at what he might find.