meant. He has Shadow-Born on board the ship. Four of them.” “Four!” Bert exclaimed, peering at the pursuing ship. “I’ve never heard of more than two ever being together at any time. If he’s brought four Shadow-Born, that bodes very badly for us.” “You can stop trying to cheer us up now, Bert,” said Charles. “I think I’m about as happy as I’m going to get.” “Our only hope is to outrun him,” Aven said, “and I don’t think that’s possible—not without Nemo to buy us time.” “I’ve been examining the weapons stores below,” said Jack. “We don’t have much, do we?” Aven shook her head. “We’re stripped for speed—and we were never really equipped for battle to begin with.” “I have an idea,” said Jack. “Hey, potboy,” he called to Bug. “Give me a hand belowdecks.” “What are you thinking, Jack?” said Aven. “No time to explain,” Jack shouted. “Just get the fauns to prepare a cannon on the aft deck.” “Aft?” Aven exclaimed. “Just do it!” said Jack, as he disappeared below. In moments Jack and Bug had brought up a massive cannonball and were loading it into the cannon. “A few of those would show them what’s what,” said Charles. “It’s the only one we have,” said Jack. “Oh. Well then,” said Charles. “Aim like an Oxford man, Jack.” “That’s my plan,” said Jack. “Turn us around,” he called to Aven. “Quickly!” “They’ll be prepared for that,” she yelled back, “since your stunt the last time.” “That’s what I’m counting on,” said Jack. “Turn us around! Quickly!” The crew turned the ship and pointed it at the Black Dragon. As Jack had predicted, the bigger ship slowed down so as not to lose too much distance when the Indigo Dragon passed. A hail of arrows and spears showered the deck as they sped past the Black Dragon, and Aven climbed onto the rigging to get a better look at their adversary. “That’s our advantage, used and gone,” she called down to Jack. “They’ll not let us get the distance to turn again, and they’re too fast to evade.” “It won’t matter if they’re faster if they can’t steer,” said Jack as they passed the aft of the Black Dragon. “Fire! Now! Now!” The fauns lit the fuse, and an instant later a booming cough erupted from the cannon, expelling with it their solitary cannonball. The iron ball shot through the air and found its mark, exactly where Jack had intended it to hit. The Black Dragon’s rudder shattered in an explosion of splintered wood and iron. The crew of the Indigo Dragon let out a cheer and hastened to raise the sails for speed. John, Charles, and Bert clapped Jack enthusiastically on the back, and, best of all, Aven climbed down from her perch and kissed him on the cheek. Only Bug was nonplussed. “I don’t want to be a wet blanket,” he said, “but I don’t think this is over yet.” He was right. Despite having lost their rudder, the crew aboard the Black Dragon were making no efforts to even respond to the loss. They were still milling about, cursing and waving weapons, and looking for all the world like they hadn’t even completed the preamble to this nautical overture. Suddenly, inexplicably, the Black Dragon turned sharply, and, picking up speed, began to come straight at the Indigo Dragon. Jack was incredulous. “But—but his rudder is gone! How in heaven’s name did they turn like that?” “Only one answer,” said Bert. “The Black Dragon is not such in name only, but a true Dragonship— although how he managed to get his hands on one I cannot imagine. Dragonships are alive and have wills of their own—and more powers available to them than ordinary vessels.” “So what do we do now?” said Jack. In answer, Aven drew her sword. “We do whatever we can. Arm yourselves, and prepare to be boarded.” While the fauns worked to coax more speed out of the Indigo Dragon, Bert, Bug, Jack, and Charles divvied up the remaining weaponry, which was old and rather shopworn. John had disappeared. “Sure,” said Jack, “the only soldier among us, and he’s hiding somewhere. It’s no wonder he got sent home.” Charles looked disapprovingly at his younger friend but said nothing, instead turning his attention to the rapidly approaching ship. With the ease born of a superior motive power, the Black Dragon glided alongside the Indigo Dragon and aimed a brace of cannons at her. “Oh, dear,” said Bert, as the cannons erupted in echoing thunder and masses of hot iron began screaming through the air above their heads. “He’s not aiming to sink us?” Charles shouted. “He can’t risk losing what he’s after,” Jack shouted back. “He still wants the Geographica. Where is John and that damned book, anyway?” “I saw him go into the cabin,” Charles yelled. “It figures,” said Jack, as the Black Dragon’s cannons continued their relentless fire. Bert and Aven were arguing as to strategy (she advocating more offensive maneuvers, he advocating flight), and John had just reemerged to take up a sword and join the fray when a well-aimed cannonball shattered the mainsail mast and ended any debate. A second destroyed the rudder. And a third, to their horror, sheared the masthead itself—the soul of the Dragonship—cleanly from the prow. The Indigo Dragon was dead in the water. It took only moments for the smaller ship to become completely overrun by Wendigo. Whatever bravado the companions’ swords had birthed was swallowed up by common sense, and they dropped their weapons. The Wendigo forced them to their knees, tying their hands behind their backs, and then lined them up along the far railing. The Winter King’s servants had begun to light torches, which cast fearful shadows across the deck; as against Aven’s vehement protestations, the fauns were herded aboard the Black Dragon, casting back mournful glances as they went. “I suppose they’ll be put to service for the Winter King now?” Charles asked. “Not quite,” Aven said, looking at the ravenous stares the Wendigo were giving their new shipmates. “Less service to him than served to his crew.” “Dear God,” breathed Charles. “They may still have the better end of the licorice whip,” said Bert. “Look—we have more company.” Two of the Shadow-Born had stepped onto the deck, bringing with their presence a chill to the atmosphere. Where they moved, the color seemed to drain out of the air itself. The robes they wore were featureless and black; hoods covered their faces. Only the hands, pale and ethereal, which extended below the draped sleeves, bore witness that the Shadow-Born had once been human. Even the Wendigo stepped aside as they passed. “That’s a Shadow-Born?” Jack whispered to Charles. “They don’t look very terrifying to me. I don’t know why Bert and Aven got so worked up about them.” Just then, one of the fauns broke free from its captors and ran squealing back across the gangplank to the Indigo Dragon. Moving with incredible speed, the first of the Shadow-Born stepped in front of the fleeing creature. The faun stopped in its tracks. The Shadow-Born reached out and grasped the poor beast by its own shadow. The faun began to jerk about as if it were a puppet on a string, letting loose a shriek that was cut short as its shadow ripped free in the specter’s grip. The Shadow-Born clutched its prize to its chest, and as they watched, the shadow of the faun wavered and disappeared, and the substance of the Shadow-Born seemed to grow darker. The faun dropped to the deck, glazed eyes rolling back in its head. The color had been drained from its flesh and fur along with its shadow, leaving it all but dead. Or worse. The limp body on the deck would normally
