Caleb cleared his throat and began to read the Myrkur document aloud. While he felt repulsed by the contents of the letter, he couldn’t help but be a tiny bit amused at its style. According to Delacroix himself, Lady Lilin Ravencrow had run the HR department in her former life. Something about the message still felt like it came from her corporate background.

To: Captain of the Disgraced Damsel

From: Lady Lilin Ravencrow

Re: Retrieval of NPC Slaves from Matagorda to Irongrasp

The situation has changed. Our experiments in necromancy must now take as high a priority as soul draining. Raising soulless undead and enlisting them to our cause will give us an unquestioned advantage in numbers for the coming conflict. Death is our God, death shall be our ally as well as our fuel.

To this end, we require all human chattel from the holding pens on Matagorda as well as those in your possession to be transported to Irongrasp with all possible speed.

Yours in Myr’s Ever-Burning Grasp,

Lady Lilin Ravencrow

Once Caleb was done reading, he looked up and around the room. His audience sat quiet, stunned at the news. Finally, he heard the muffled voice of a little girl.

“That’s really messed up,” Daffodil said, from inside the storage case. “It really is.”

“‘Tis easy enough to see that I am of the same mind,” Shaw rumbled. “Though my need for glory hath not been sated, if we must step aside to stop this evil, thus shall it be.”

“Aye,” Sienna agreed, after exchanging a glance with Donal. “It seems that taking this risk is worth it, if only to prevent the death cultists from experimenting on our people.”

The remaining screen in Caleb’s vision updated.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Sway your officers’ opinions enough to neutralize opposition to your decision. STATUS: COMPLETE.

“I am also in agreement,” Tavia said. “Yet there are more disturbing things within that message.”

“What might those be?” Donal asked. “What Ravencrow says, it’s vile enough as it is.”

Tavia tapped a forehoof in thought. “She starts out her message with the sentence, The situation has changed. What situation might this be?”

“Obviously, it refers to us!” Sienna exclaimed. “We escaped from Irongrasp. In doing so, we wiped out an entire squadron of the Myrkur’s newest ships.”

That’s true, Caleb thought. His mind flashed back to his duel with Delacroix, when Tavia’s fire beads had set the Death cultists’ pinnaces on fire.

It took months to get those little ships seaworthy, Delacroix had said to Caleb, before charging in and trying to cut him down.

“We also sank one of their ketches,” Caleb added. “Damaged their flagship, sank or crippled a few of their allies’ ships, sent a slave transport to the bottom, and freed the Roshannon. That definitely qualifies us as a thorn in their side.”

“I can’t argue with any of those points,” Tavia agreed. “Yet somehow, that letter qualified as a thorn in my flank as well. I shall ponder upon it whilst on Matagorda.”

“How might we re-unite with thee aboard the Spitfire?” Shaw asked. “Might there be a pre-arranged signal we can use?”

“There is that board of crystals we’re still keeping,” Sienna pointed out. Caleb had wrapped the Crystals of Arima in swathes of canvas and had it stored deep in one of the great cabin’s shelf compartments.

“Too risky,” Caleb said. “We still don’t know how to reliably align it. Or if the Myrkur might be able to use it to listen in if we try using it for communications.”

“Good point, Captain.”

“I think we’re going to have to rely upon your eagle eyes, Shaw,” Caleb said. “You’ve got the best vision among us, so you should be able to spot us leaving along one of the two canyon openings along the island’s shore.”

“Thou speakest the truth,” the griffin allowed, sounding a bit pleased with the praise. “Yet I mislike the idea, since there are other Myrkur sloops of the same build, and our crew shall be dressed in the same clothing.”

An idea popped into Caleb’s mind. He couldn’t help but grin as he considered it.

“Right now, we’re flying the Myrkur flag of scarlet with a black skull.” He looked over to Sienna as he continued. “It’s time that we have our own flag. A flag that’ll tell everyone we’re corsairs, not Myrkur.”

“What do you have in mind, Captain?” asked his Quartermaster.

“A black pennant. With a white skull, and crossed bones behind. As soon as we leave Matagorda, we fly those colors. Shaw, you see what we call the ‘Jolly Roger’ from my world, you’ll know it’s us.”

Once they’d returned to the sloop’s main deck, Sienna passed on the order for a new banner to be made. The call came down from the lookouts in the fighting top: Land ho, dead ahead! Sure enough, Matagorda rose over the eastern horizon.

Caleb felt the strange dragging sensation course through his body once more. He checked to see if his two previously invoked wind spells were still working.

In response, a new screen flashed 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 35% and increasing.

He dropped the spells for the moment and sensed what the natural Avalonian breezes were doing. They were light, but at least it came from the north, where the sloop could continue its progress in a running broach reach.

Caleb decided to focus on only one spell this time.

Wind Cast

To counteract the suppressive field, he also decided to invoke his individual-specific skill.

Individual-Specific Specialty: XP Edge – Enhanced 42%

Caleb felt the now-familiar inner heat as he burned a few XP. The breeze quickened to a brisk wind, filling the sails and allowing the Spitfire to put on a whitecap at the bow. The brown-green lump that made up Matagorda started to quickly draw closer.

Donal took over the helm as Noack Miley worked at creating a harness for Tavia from leftover lengths of rope. The old rigging master fastened the container that held Daffodil to Tavia’s chest. Inside, the alloy dragon remained quiet, as per Caleb’s instructions.

“There you go, Miss Morningstar,” Noack said, when he tied the last knot. “Whatever you’re carryin’, it’s as safe as if in Danu’s Arms.”

“My thanks,” Tavia replied. “It does chafe a bit, but I shall bear it without objection.”

“Shaw,” Caleb said, “Let me know if I need to lower the wind for you.”

“Nay!” the drake declared. “Quite the opposite. ‘Tis the best thing to give me the extra lift I shall need.”

With that, he extended his wings and started to beat them rapidly. He created a powerful blast of downdraft as he took off. The griffin moved to hover over the mare. Then he reached down with his wide leonine forepaws, wrapping his arms around her fore and mid-section.

Tavia let out a sound between a whinny and a squeal.

“Your claws, your claws!” she exclaimed. “They’re tickling my belly!”

“Thou must accept my apologies, unicorn,” Shaw said gruffly. “Mine own form was not built to transport things this way. Thy journey shall be short.”

“Stay safe, my friends!” Caleb called, as the ungainly duo lifted off. “Till we meet again!”

“Good hunting to thee!” Shaw called back. Tavia didn’t add anything. The mare simply bit her lip, trying not to laugh as the drake’s talons tickled her underside.

Caleb went up to the quarterdeck and pulled out his spyglass. He watched as griffin, unicorn, and alloy dragon crossed the expanse of water. Eventually, the trio crossed the line of cliffs that made up the island perimeter and descended into the trees that dotted the plateau.

He let out a relieved breath.

At least that’s one major obstacle overcome, Caleb thought. But to go forward without Tavia and Shaw backing my plays…it makes me feel vulnerable. They’ve become my friends, ones that I’ve been able to count on from Day One.

Caleb adjusted his spyglass and turned his attention to Matagorda itself. As he’d seen before with his Corsair special ability Dead Reckoning, the island’s sheer cliff faces were punctuated by two openings. Each opening was two ships wide, but were ringed by outcroppings of razor-sharp rocks.

“Captain,” Donal called over from the helm. “Which entry shall I make for? The northerly one or the other to the south?”

A quick check of the wind made Caleb’s decision. “Take us three points steerboard, we’ll make for the southern entrance.”

The deck planks shifted slightly underneath his feet as Donal made the course correction. Caleb went up to the afterdeck and continued to monitor his ship’s progress. High overhead, the red-and-black Myrkur flag snapped in the breeze, along with the black and green striped banner marking them as a ship ready to pick up precious cargo.

Soon the cliffs loomed ahead, sheer gray faces of stone shot through with veins of black glass. Ocean swells rolled up against the outcroppings just outside the canyon, breaking into sparkling foam. The channel inside showed the darker green of calmer water.

“One point larboard,” Caleb ordered. “Then steady as she goes.”

“Aye, Captain,” Donal replied.

The warning screen flashed in the corner of his sight again.

WARNING!

Your magic-related abilities are being suppressed by anti-magic talismans

or other dark magic sources. Spell effectiveness reduced 55% and increasing.

I’ve had enough of that, Caleb thought. He shut down the last of his magic, dropping the extra breeze just as they entered the sea canyon.

A blink, and the warning screen vanished.

The light dimmed as the canyon seemed to engulf the ship proper. The sloop’s speed dropped, though the noise increased as the surf outside echoed off the surrounding walls with a doom, doom, doom.

Caleb called down to the main deck. “Sienna, get everyone below who’s not dressed as one of the Myrkur. They’re going to be sitting this one out.”

He got a Yezzir, followed by a flurry of activity.

The Spitfire continued on, making small adjustments to her course as she continued down the channel. Small trees, twisted into impossible shapes, grew from small cliffs set into the canyon’s faces. A strange hush fell over the deck, followed by gasps of astonishment as they emerged into Matagorda’s hidden harbor.

Donal let out a low whistle before turning back to look up at Caleb.

“Lir’s beard!” he exclaimed. “Captain, have you ever seen the like?”