A pale green shimmered into existence, enveloping Ayn and everything around her.

  HEALTH AT 14

  HEALTH AT 26

  Ayn switched notifications back off as she watched Kayara’s injuries seal over and vanish. Regen really was worth its weight in gold.

  Kayara didn’t seem to agree. She turned to Sheyric and scowled. “Focus on healing Ayn first.”

  The green light switched to blue and rushed at Ayn. Her strength returned just in time to hear another thunk, this one so close she could feel water splash over her backside. She turned to see a large boulder sitting all of two feet away.

  “Hate to break it up,” Bren said, his voice strained, “but we really need that door open. My mana’s getting low, and the skeletons are catching on. A boulder’s not going to stop that crowd heading towards us with swords.”

  Ayn tried to stand and reach for the door handle.

  Kayara pushed her back down. “Me first.”

  Ayn’s brain didn’t catch up to what Kayara was doing until she produced a small toolkit, dropped to her knees, and ran a small hook under the door frame. Traps. Kayara was looking for traps, and she found one almost immediately. She carefully withdrew the hook, exposing a thread attached to something behind the door. She snipped it with another tool from her kit, then waved Ayn over and shifted out of the way.

  Bren frantically beat on his drum, staccato chanting a song about spikes. The loud crunching told Ayn the spell hit its mark. It also told her its mark was dangerously close. Kayara’s wolverine snarled. Kayara cursed and darted away. Her sabers grated against something metal.

  Ayn tuned out the fight. All that mattered was the feel of the lock picks against the tumblers. Finding the point of least resistance and releasing it. A satisfying click came from the door. Ayn pulled it open, grabbed an unsuspecting Sheyric who was in the middle of channeling another regen field, and dove inside the cabin. Kayara shoved Bren in, then dodged under a sword strike to get in herself, slamming the door shut on a skeleton’s arm. The arm snapped and fell to the ground where it turned to white powder and oozed out around the door’s edges.

  “That’s disturbing,” Bren said. He shook his disheveled and soaking wet robes, which did nothing but splatter water, and sighed. “Now what?”

  As if in answer, a cacophony of strikes hit the outside of the door. Ayn’s Sixth Sense turned to a constant drone. It seemed Kayara had re-locked the door, but that didn’t keep the mobs from trying to beat it down. Ayn had a feeling they’d succeed, eventually.

  The room wasn’t as special looking on the inside. Metal encased the entire room, which was big enough for all five of them and plenty of leg room. A single bed not unlike the one in her room sat in one corner, with a lockbox at the foot. A small wooden table, a set of chairs, and various crates rounded out the decor.

  “Kayara,” Ayn said. “Can you look at that lockbox?”

  The desert had been about as dry of treasure as it had of water, and as long as they were trapped in a metal cabin, they might as well explore. Maybe they’d find a secret room or something.

  “Oh. Do you think the captain’s soul is in there?” Bren asked.

  Kayara glared at him as she moved over to check the lockbox for traps. Her wolverine’s nose went to work, the rug of an animal snuffling around the edges of the room.

  “What? This is the only safe spot on this ship, it seems, so why not have the soul in here, too?”

  “Because it’s a little too obvious,” Ayn said.

  Kayara waved her over. The lockbox was safe to mess with. A quick pick, and the box clicked open.

  1,320 GOLD FOUND

  330 GOLD RECIEVED

  THREE HEALTH POTIONS RECIEVED

  TWO MANA POTIONS RECIEVED

  A rare. Ayn slipped the armor into her inventory. While she’d miss the extra agility and dual sword boost from her current armor, the Desert Scale’s extra armor alone made it a worthwhile swap. Too bad she had to clear the floor before she could use it. She pulled out a pair of tan cloth boots with healing boosts, which she tossed toward Sheyric. A good haul. Now if only the lockbox had a glass of cold water hiding in it as well.

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  Ayn wiped sweat off her forehead. It was hot. Hotter than when they were under the glaring sun, which was weird since she could still hear the pitter-patter of rain in-between skeletons ramming the door.

  The wolverine whined. It had worked its way to the opposite corner of the room, where a trio of barrels sat clustered together. It took a few steps back, feet high-stepping, then lunged forward and rammed its head into the nearest barrel. The barrel shattered, scattering blue and red potions on the floor.

  Sheyric mumbled and moved toward the wolverine as it lined up another hit. Kayara pushed past Sheyric, stepping between the animal and its targets. The wolverine whined louder.

  “Floor’s hot,” Sheyric muttered.

  As Kayara investigated the offensive barrels, Ayn bent down and touched the floor. She jerked back. The floor was scalding. No wonder sweat was pouring down her back, and the wolverine was prancing. The thick leather soles on her boots protected her feet from the heat, but the poor creature had nothing but paw pads.

  Its whining grew more frantic. Kayara shoved the remaining two barrels out of the way. “There’s a hatch here!” She grabbed a handle attached to the floor and yanked. A square hatch door came up, the room under it alight in an eerie orange glow.

  “The ship’s on fire,” Kayara said. Her face twisted up in confusion.

  Ayn was plenty confused as well. She’d seen Bren’s fire spell fizzle out, and the rain on the top deck prevented fire, which meant…

  “The mobs set the fire to drive us out,” Ayn said.

  “Or just roast us,” Bren said as he wiped sweat off his face. “It’s easier to pull meat off the bone that way.”

  Ayn grimaced. The heat was clearly getting to him.

  While Ayn debated their chances at busting through the mob-filled top deck, versus getting through the inferno below, Kayara grabbed one of her wolverine’s feet. Ayn watched, perplexed, as the Stalker rubbed down its feet, then moved to the legs and body. Wherever she rubbed, the fur slicked down and gained a glossy look…or maybe not so much glossy, but greasy.

  “The fat!”

  Bren jumped at Ayn’s sudden outburst. She’d forgotten about the nasty stuff, but a bit of fire resistance sounded like exactly what they needed.

  Sheyric got the hint, and soon all of them were rubbing Ard Fat across their clothes and armor. It felt as awful as Ayn had imagined, especially as it oozed between cracks in her armor, mixing with sand, sweat, and rain into a paste that made Ayn’s skin crawl.

  FIRE RESISTANCE INCREASED BY FIFTY PERCENT

  The heat in the room faded away. The wolverine had stopped high-stepping, and now stood next to its master, staring down into the fiery lower floor with slicked back fur that made it look even more like a bear.

  After a quick cooldown check, Ayn decided. “We’re going down.”

  *****

  Although it kept them from burning alive, the Ard Fat didn’t keep Ayn’s skin from stinging. The hot air scalded her lungs as she pressed forward, her party clustered behind her inside the Aegis bubble. Their soaked clothes and armor gave off steam, further obscuring Ayn’s sight as it carried the scent of hot grease. Fire cascaded all around. It crawled up what was left of the walls, eagerly devouring every hammock and crate in its path. The only point of safety lay ahead—right back at the hole they’d created their first trip through the crew quarters.

  Rain still poured in from the top deck, blocked only slightly by the skeletons standing around the hole’s edge, peering down at them with hungry, glowing eyes.

  “Why aren’t they firing at us?” Ayn asked.

  “Wet muskets,” Sheyric said. “Can’t.”

  “Really?”

  Sheyric didn’t reply. Ayn hadn’t expected him to. The odds of him giving her a detailed explanation of anything were basically zero, after all. But sparse info or not, he had yet to be wrong.

  “Okay, good. My shield’s about to go down, so we’ll have to speed up. Once we hit the hole, we’re going straight up and out. The wolverine sniffs out the captain, and we cut a path right for him.”

  “We still don’t have his soul,” Bren said. He paused. “I never thought I’d say that.”

  Ayn was painfully aware of that fact, yet the growing holes in the crew quarters floor had shown nothing but more fire on the lower decks. Up was all they had.

  “The System always gives us a way to beat the floor,” she said, more for herself than anything. “We can’t go down anymore, so whatever we need has to be on the top deck.”

  “With the Captain,” Bren said.

  Ayn didn’t comment on the smugness in Bren’s voice. As much as she hated to admit it, he kind of had a right to it. “Yeah. Maybe one of the crew, or hell, on the captain himself.”

  “Huh.”

  “Just get ready.”

  “Oh, I am.”

  They hit the skeletons with everything they had. A halo of spikes shot up around the outer edge of the hole. The wolverine, nose working overtime, jumped the spikes, crashing into a cluster of skeletons like a bowling ball. The bony pins collapsed under its weight.

  Ayn and Kayara came close behind, pulling the spellcasters behind them and mowing down the delicate mobs. For every skeleton they took out, two more seemed to take its place, and without Ayn’s Aegis, there wasn’t much to keep them from getting hit as they made their way toward the captain.

  Sheyric helped Ayn on that front. His regen aura glowed bright. Ayn and Kayara circled him, protecting him from as much as they could, and when damage outweighed his ability to heal, they used one of the many potions they’d found in the metal room.

  The System truly provided.

  “Enough!”

  Captain Blackdale’s command echoed over the deck. His crew responded immediately, the entire crowd surging back as if they shared one mind. He was back on top of the raised platform. One hand rested on the steering wheel as he stared down at the party with annoyance. Rain still poured. It ran down his face, soaking his handlebar mustache until it resembled a limp caterpillar.

  “You five have proven quite the thorn in my side,” Blackdale said. “I’d wanted to give you a place in my crew, yet you insist on continuing to destroy my beautiful lady.”

  Ayn frowned. “I’m pretty sure you did more damage by lighting her on fire.”

  “Which I only had to do because you holed up in my cabin!” Blackdale pointed an accusatory finger, then dropped it and shook his head. “No matter. You’ve made my decision quite clear. I don’t need such mutinous crew.”

  Ayn’s Sixth Sense, gone eerily silent since Blackdale called off his crew, screamed in her head. She hit the deck before the shot rang out.

  Blackdale clutched his rifle, which he pulled from who knows where, and frowned. “Huh. I rarely miss.”

  Kayara’s wolverine barked and headed for the captain. Kayara grabbed the back of Ayn’s armor and hoisted her up.

  “Follow him,” Kayara said.

  Ayn didn’t have time to ask for clarification. With a word from Blackdale, the skeletons surged back in. Ayn left Kayara to keep the spellcasters alive and scrambled after the wolverine.

  Blackdale adjusted his rifle. Whatever rule kept the skeletons from firing their pistols clearly didn’t affect him, but with his target obvious, dodging came easy.

  The wolverine reached him first. It bounded up the stairs a handful at a time to snap at Blackdale’s legs. The captain yelled and danced away. It gave Ayn plenty of time to come up behind him and knock the rifle from his hands. She slashed at his middle.

  He took the attack with a laugh. “You can’t kill me like that, remember?”

  The wolverine thought otherwise. It came up on its hind legs to snap at his head.

  Blackdale shouted, twisting away without regards to where he was. He hit the railing of the platform and went over headfirst, smacking the top deck with a hearty thud.