PRIMARY QUEST STARTED: RELEASE CAPTAIN JAMES BLACKDALE’S SOUL

  Ayn slipped her sabers free, puffs of sand coming off her armor, sheaths, and hilts. By some miracle, the blades shone clean and sharp.

  The skeleton pirates had them surrounded. Over a dozen pressed in with an unnatural glow in their eye sockets.

  “Skeletons are skeletons,” Ayn said. “And they’ll fall apart just the same. Bren, now’s a good time for some spikes.”

  Bren squeaked out an agreement, then cleared his throat and rattled off a quick stanza.

  Enough sand stuck to me

  To fill the ship and sea

  Way more than I would like

  So let’s turn it into a spike

  The sand from all of them pulled away and launched toward the floor at the circle of skeleton’s feet. The wolverine, teeth and ire on full display, stepped between Kayara and Sheyric as the sand trembled, then shot up, taking sudden solid form as a series of jagged, tooth-like spikes. Bones clattered to the floor as the skeletons collapsed, while pirate clothes and hats stuck to the tips of spikes.

  “See?” Ayn said, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Just skeletons.”

  In truth, she hadn’t expected them all to collapse like a tower of blocks, but she’d take it all the same.

  The spikes disintegrated into piles of sand, leaving the party to figure out their next move. Other than all the containers, which upon closer inspection were full of more sand, there were three rope ladders leading up to a higher floor, each spaced evenly across the cargo hold and leading up to small, rectangular openings.

  Ayn and her party were standing at the farthest left one when the skeleton pirates reformed. Bren put them back to the floor with a quick chant.

  “That shouldn’t be allowed,” he said.

  Ayn shrugged. “I guess now we know why they go down so easily. They don’t actually die. They are undead, I suppose.”

  “Do you think John…er, Blackdale is the same way?”

  Ayn opened her mouth, about to say “of course not” then shut it again. What had Aisha said? Destroy his soul? “Bren, you’re a genius.”

  “Huh? I…uh…”

  Kayara snorted.

  Ayn shook her head. “These skeletons can’t be killed because of some devil’s curse, right? That’s what ‘John’ said.”

  “Um…did he?” Bren asked. “I don’t remember him talking about skeletons at all.”

  “No. Of course not, but that’s how ghost ships work. The crew is bound to the ship, undying, until the curse is broken.”

  “Oh! So, we need to find whatever cursed them.”

  “Maybe. Aisha said Blackdale’s soul needed to be destroyed.”

  “Wouldn’t he have that?”

  Kayara snorted again. “An undead carrying around their soul would be an idiot.”

  Ayn looked at Kayara, impressed by the number of words she’d said, but Kayara avoided her gaze.

  Ayn sighed. “His soul is most likely bound to something else and hidden away, like a lich’s phylactery.”

  “A what?” Bren asked.

  “Treasure, or an artifact, maybe.”

  “Oh.”

  The skeletons took that moment to reform, only to be spiked again.

  “I think those things resurrected quicker than last time,” Ayn said. “They may not be dangerous, but I have a feeling we’re on a timer.”

  *****

  Over a dozen cannons, weights and counterweights securing them to their spots in front of hatches, lined the ship’s next level. The skeleton gunners manning each cannon turned as soon as Ayn’s head poked above the floor, sending her scrabbling up as they pulled flintlocks and fired.

  AEGIS OF AGILITY ACTIVATED

  Musket balls pinged off the shield, whittling away at it only slightly slower than the sandstorms.

  A snarl came from the bottom of the ladder. The wolverine, unable to climb ladders, had stayed on the bottom floor as the rest of the party climbed. Kayara and Bren let out loud curses right before a large mass of wolverine came soaring out of the hole in the floor, landing squarely at Ayn’s side with its brown and black hackles at attention.

  “I’m not a damned stepping stone!” Kayara yelled as she pulled herself up. “Crazy ass beast.”

  The wolverine didn’t acknowledge her. It lunged from the safety of Ayn’s shield bubble, ramming into the nearest skeleton gunner with enough force to crack bones in two.

  “Thanks,” Ayn said. “Uh….” She turned from the raging furball to Kayara. “You really should give it a name.”

  Kayara grunted in response and joined the fray, and Ayn followed. With so many fast-moving threats for the gunners to shoot, none of the three of them took much in the way of damage before the last gunner crumbled. More ladders reached up to the next floor, where Ayn could already hear crackling and shuffling. Ayn thought back to when she’d been staring up at the guts of the ship’s front half. The third layer from the bottom had contained a lot of remnants of walls, and possibly hallways, like what she’d expect from…

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  “Crew quarters,” she said to no one in particular. “Next up are the crew quarters, which means even more skeletons and tighter spaces.”

  “More cover, then,” Bren said. “Excellent, because we should get moving and maybe send the wolverine up earlier this time.” He rolled his shoulders and winced.

  The clattering of bones echoed from above and below. A skeletal hand reached over the lip of one of the holes in the floor. Ayn picked a ladder and climbed up. She’d hit the halfway point when the wolverine launched from the floor with a growl. Its front paws hooked over her shoulders. It pulled, all of its weight shoving her down as its back paws came up and pushed off—sending it vaulting through the hole onto the next floor while pain screeched through Ayn’s upper body. She twisted on the ladder to glare at Bren, but the mage was pre-occupied with the skeletons coming up from the lower floor.

  Kayara grabbed the ladder Ayn was on and shook it. “Go.”

  Ayn bit back a retort and did as she was asked, pulling herself up into a surprisingly empty, and tight, hallway. The wolverine stood a few feet away, snuffling. It didn’t even grace her with a look after using her as a springboard.

  She moved over as the rest of her party climbed up, and lined up, in the tiny space. The walls nearly brushed Ayn’s elbows, and they touched Bren’s. She hated it. There was no space to move.

  The wolverine switched from snuffling to snarling, its hackles popping back up as it turned its head to stare at a small door next to it. A musket ball tore through the wall, skinning the back of the wolverine before continuing through the next wall.

  “Get down!” Ayn yelled.

  All five of them hit the floor, flattening out as more musket balls than Ayn cared to count sailed over them. The musket balls had them pinned, and the trajectory was getting lower.

  “Bren,” Ayn said. “Time to see if this thing burns.”

  A wave of heat rolled over her. Even though her shield had broken, and had yet to recharge, Ayn took no damage as fire blasted down the hallway, crawling up the walls and licking the ceiling. If she ever met who’d programmed in no friendly fire in the Dungeon, she’d give them the biggest damn hug of their life.

  The mobs weren’t so lucky. Fire blazed into an inferno, eating away the walls of the hallway and baring the line of hammocks and crates on either side. The occupants of the hammocks were lined up as well, guns still pointed in the party’s direction as the inferno turned them to dust.

  Its spell spent, the inferno fizzled out.

  Her gamble had certainly paid off. The fire had cleared the floor of just about everything, mob or not, and by some decision of The System, the ship floor stayed intact. The same couldn’t be said of the ceiling. A section above the party cracked, sending all five of them scrambling away as a large section crashed to the floor.

  Ayn coughed through the dust, smoky haze, and smell of burnt cloth. “Thanks, Bren.”

  “Any time.” Bren gave her a sheepish grin.

  The collapsed section of the ceiling still hung on along one edge, providing a path up toward the open sky and clean air. Ayn followed it eagerly to the open deck. The masts and nets had undergone a transformation along with the rest of the ship, and other than a bit of char on one, the masts stood tall and clean, a skull and bones flag waving from the tallest one.

  A few dozen feet in front of her, a set of stairs led up to a raised platform. On top of that platform stood the steering wheel, and Captain James Blackdale.

  Although he’d swapped his archaeologist’s uniform for a pirate captain’s ensemble, complete with a blue and gold long coat and tricorn, his features hadn’t changed. He still smiled at Ayn with that over-friendly look, his handlebar mustache bobbing with the movement.

  Blackdale strolled onto the deck to face Ayn. “Have you enjoyed the tour of my beautiful lady?” He frowned at the hole they’d made as the rest of Ayn’s party lined up beside her. “Although, I do wish you’d be a little gentler. It’s fine, however. After all of you join my crew, you can patch her up for me. She’ll be as good as new.”

  Ayn dashed forward. Her sabers buried into Blackdale’s chest. He hadn’t even flinched. A sense of unease bloomed in Ayn.

  Blackdale added to it by laughing. “Everyone tries that. I suppose it’s to be expected, considering how healthy I look.”

  As he spoke, his hands clamped onto Ayn’s, pinning them and her blades to his chest. He leaned in, his friendly grin twisting.

  A curved blade flashed between his and Ayn’s faces. Blackdale shoved Ayn away, only for Kayara to catch her around the waist. They spun once in an impromptu dance, Kayara righting Ayn and stepping clear of her and Blackdale in one smooth motion.

  Blackdale laughed again, louder, with a hint of insanity. The two holes in his chest didn’t bleed, and as Ayn watched, the holes, and the shirt, knitted together as if nothing had happened.

  Kayara dropped into a battle stance. “He’s undead, remember?”

  “Right,” Ayn said. She’d known that. She’d just forgotten in the heat of the moment. Again. “We need to find his soul.”

  Blackdale’s attention snapped to them. “What are my little bilge rats plotting, hmm? Mutiny will not be tolerated, even by new recruits.”

  “Bren—” Ayn said.

  With a snap of his fingers, Blackdale cut off Ayn’s words. Bren got the gist, anyway, pulling his drum free and singing.

  Blazing than the sun

  The deck went dark, as if the sun in question had hidden behind a massive cloud.

  Stuck on the ship, you can’t run

  A fat water drop hit Ayn on the head.

  Full of tinder and dry rot

  A hundred more drops joined the first, then a thousand. They hit the deck with little explosions and turned the entire surface, and all of them, soaking within seconds.

  Ayn shielded her eyes and looked up in bewilderment. Near-black storm clouds covered the sky in a thick blanket. “Bren, I meant fire.”

  “Me too,” Bren said. “I didn’t do this!”

  John’s laugh echoed over the deck. Ayn was getting really sick of hearing it.

  He stomped on the deck, sending out a spray of water. “What’s a ship without water? Bastards thought they’d pulled one over on me by sending me to a desert, so we’ll bloody well just have to make our own ocean, won’t we?”

  Damn. With water pouring on their heads, Ayn’s plan of burning the ship down vanished.

  “Oh, I’ll be needing you to fix that hole now.”

  With another snap of his fingers, skeletons poured out of the hole they’d made in the deck, armed to the teeth with guns and swords. Captain Blackdale disappeared behind the crowd of mobs, although Ayn could still hear him laugh. A quick chant from Bren felled over a dozen skeletons. More flooded out to take their place as musket balls flew by.

  AEGIS OF AGILITY ACTIVATED

  Ayn muted the inevitable slew of notifications and spun in place. The deck was too open, and they were wholly outnumbered. Kayara’s wolverine seemed to have reached the same conclusion. It barked over its shoulder at Ayn, then ran away from the mass of mobs and toward the back half of the deck.

  Some skeletons popped up from the ladders on the far side of the ship, but more importantly, another raised section sat on the end of the stern, and this one had a door and what looked like metal plating.

  Ayn motioned toward the retreating wolverine. “Everyone, follow it!”

  They raced ahead, Kayara destroying the unfortunate skeletons coming up the ladders, Bren casting Earthen Spikes at the mob cluster, and Ayn positioned between them and the barrage coming from the gunners. Even with Bren cutting chunks out of their attackers, the rain of musket balls refused to let up. The party skid to a stop in front of the metal-clad door. If they could get inside, the metal should protect them from the muskets.

  Sheyric grabbed the door’s handle, and twisted, then did it again and again. He whipped around. The deluge of water had caused his hood to droop down so low it nearly covered his entire face, yet his voice carried plenty of fear. “Locked.”

  Oh, no. Ayn’s shield burst. Musket balls peppered Ayn’s back. Pain radiated from her core. Copper filled her mouth.

  Bren flailed, and a large thunk heralded the end of the barrage. Kayara caught Ayn before she hit the deck. A few trails of bloody water ran down Kayara’s arms and legs, and Ayn tried to point them out, except her chest wouldn’t expand. She switched notifications back on.

  HEALTH AT 2

  AEGIS OF AGILITY ON COOLDOWN

  FOUR MINUTES AND FIFTY-FIVE SECONDS REMAINING