It was high noon by the time the Vesper pulled into the bay. She dropped anchor a good two cables from the beach, and the tension on board was palpable as Firch and the others rowed the launch back to their ship. As they approached the Vesper, the rope ladder was lowered, and lines were tossed. When the Captain climbed aboard, he found the crew gathered around, looking at him expectantly.

“I know you have questions,” he said. “But first, I need to speak with our guest.”

“What’s going on? How did it go?” they asked softly once the Captain had disappeared into his cabin.

Those who had accompanied the Captain didn’t reply. They could only stare at his cabin door and pray.

At length, Bardrick could take it no longer and turned to Inder. “You’ve known the Captain for the longest. Talk him out of this madness.”

“You know how he is when he gets like that,” the first mate shot back. “There’s no talking him down.

“What’s going on?” Raimala asked nervously. “What happened”

“We’ll find out when the Captain makes his decision,” Inder snarled. The venom in the first mate’s voice caused the dark skinned woman to take an involuntary step back.

Time ticked on, and the sun was relentless, but no one dared move as they stared at the door, waiting for their Captain to emerge with a decision. Duglin didn’t know if five minutes or five hours had elapsed when the door eventually creaked open. Several moments later, the Captain emerged with their two passengers.

“Our guest has graciously agreed to help,” Firch said simply to his waiting crew.

Inder was the first to protest. “This is lunacy, Captain.”

“Captain, think about what you’re doing!” Bardrick cried.

Firch raised a hand, and the deck was quiet again. “This jaunt is strictly voluntary. I will be going with our guests. If you are willing, I want Fultern and Marsel to come with me. I will not think less of you if you refuse.”

“I will go,” Fultern said without hesitation.

Marsel, however, cleared her throat nervously. “What is it we are to do?”

“We’re going on a witch hunt,” he replied. “In exchange, we will receive the location of a buyer for our cargo and any provisions the good people of Jerning can spare, including spare canvas and wood.”

The red haired young woman wavered, and Tash took her hand and held it tight. At length, Marsel gathered her courage and nodded. “I will go, Captain.”

“Good,” Firch said and turned to Inder. “Get a musket, powder, and shot for her from the arms locker.”

“Captain, I’m coming too,” Inder offered.

Firch shook his head. “If anything happens to us, I need you to take command. Lead this ship and her crew to safety. Then, the ship is yours to do with as you please.”

The Captain then turned to address his crew. “I know what we are about to do is dangerous. If we do not return by morning, put this island in your wake and never return. If I die, my contract with Darnall dies with me. There is nothing he can do so long as you do not return to Avarice.”

“Is this the only way, Captain?” Tash asked.

“It is the way I’ve chosen,” Firch replied. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’re headed out with a professional.”

Tash was about to bite back but stopped when Marsel grabbed her by the arm.

“Wait, do both of them have to go with you?” Bardrick asked, gesturing at both their passengers.

“Trust me, you don’t want her on board without him present,” Inder warned.

“The villagers will bring what we need once I tell the headman we’re taking the job,” Firch continued. “Don’t think you’ve been left with an easy task just because you’re not going. I want this ship in top condition when I return.”

“You’re taking our sailmaker with you,” Tash pointed out. There was venom in her voice, and the muscular woman’s lip quivered as she attempted to hold back tears.

“She can repair our sails while we’re underway,” Firch replied.

“Captain, I have an important question for the crew,” the witch hunter said. “It pertains to our little excursion.”

Firch nodded brusquely.

“Is anyone here a virgin?” Andar asked. “I am one myself, it is nothing to be ashamed of, but vital to our chances of success.”

Duglin’s cheek colours when he noticed everyone was looking his way.

“What’s this about?” Firch asked.

“A witch’s power is less potent against virgins,” Andar explained. “It won’t hurt to have as many as we can get with us.”

“He’s just a boy,” Firch pointed out. “He won’t be of any help.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t underestimate the abilities of youth,” Andar tutted. “You of all people should realize that.”

“Well?” Bardrick asked. “Are you?”

At length, the boy nodded.

“Will you come with us?” Firch asked.

“Yes,” Duglin said softly. “I will.”

“Thank you,” the Captain said. “Do you know how to use a pistol?”

“In theory,” he began.

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“He’s not been on the crew long enough to be trained in gunnery, Captain,” Inder pointed out.

“Draw a pistol for him all the same,” Firch said. “If everything goes to plan, he won’t need it.”

Bardrick cleared his throat awkwardly. “I think a dagger would be a safer choice, Captain.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Inder added. “Things could get chaotic, and the boy is just as likely to shoot himself or worse, one of you as he is the witch.”

“Get him both,” Firch ordered.

“But Captain!” Inder and Bardrick protested in unison.

“Things are likely to get dangerous out there,” Firch said sharply. “And when push comes to shove, I’m going to need someone I can count on, not a passenger.”

The Captain then turned to Duglin. “Do you understand?”

The boy nodded meekly.

“And knowing this, do you still want to come?” Firch asked.

“I do, Captain,” the boy said with more conviction this time. “Good, now don’t forget your hat and your flask.”

“One more thing before we leave, Captain,” the witch hunter said. “I would like to say a prayer of thanks at your shrine to Manes. To give thanks for our safe landfall.”

Inder smirked. “I’m afraid we don’t have one of those on board, sir.”

Andar blinked in surprise. “That’s unusual.”

“The Gods are fickle,” Firch said. “I have no use for something I can’t count on when my back’s to the wall on my ship.”

“Do you think I could pray at the one ashore?” he asked.

Firch shook his head. “A witch is terrorizing this village. I don’t think they’ll take kindly to either of you. Manes can wait until we arrive at Darvigan to hear your prayers.”

When the shore party returned to the beach, Dernish was waiting for them alone. He eyed the chained witch and shook his head. “Two witches on my island in the same week. I think it’s time I found a new island to live on.”

The stout man then took Firch aside. “You know he’s an Imperial Agent, don’t you?”

“I told him an Imperial ship dropped this witch off when she went mad,” Firch replied. “It’s how I convinced him to help. He said he would be cleaning their mess.”

“That’s all well and fine,” Dernish replied. “But what are you going to do when you come up against the Nomad?”

“If everything goes to plan, we won’t,” Firch said.

As he was about to return to the others, Dernish grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t you wonder what I’m doing out here in the arse end of nowhere? With my share of the spoils, I could have lived out the rest of my days in luxury in Cestia.”

Firch shrugged. “I didn’t. I figured you’d tell me if you felt the need.”

“Well, I feel the need,” Dernish said. He shot a glance over at the witch hunter before continuing. “The Empire’s taken an interest in our old crewmates.”

“Nothing unusual there,” Firch remarked. “We are the only ones to return alive from the lands beyond the Southern Maelstrom.”

“Here’s the thing,” Dernish continued. “All the lads who settled down in Imperial territory? Missing. Can’t catch a whiff of them.”

Firch frowned. “Any number of things could have…”

Dernish’s grip tightened around Firch’s arm. “It’s mighty fishy, is all I’m saying… You can’t trust the Empire nor its agents.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Firch scoffed. He attempted to pull his arm free, but Dernish held fast.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re here to help us out, but why are you doing something as dangerous as transporting those two all the way out here?”

“I need the money,” Firch replied. “I was only cabin boy. Buying the Vesper and making her seaworthy cost every penny I earned from that voyage.”

“But what about Inder?” Dernish protested. “He was third mate!”

“It’s not my place to say. Now, where was the witch last heard?”

Dernish looked at Firch for a moment before releasing his arm and pointing into the burnt out end of the village. “She’s been approaching the village from that end ever since she lost her mind, but no one has dared go in to actually look for her.”

Firch nodded. “See to it that the things we ordered are sent to my ship. If we’re not back by morning, you should evacuate the village. My crew can help.”

“And if you come back safely, I’m not letting you go until we’ve drunk every drop of alcohol on this poxy island!” Dernish cried before breaking into uproarious laughter as he made his way back to the village.

“I should warn you, I don’t drink,” Andar said when the Captain glanced at him.

“Let’s go,” Firch said.

As they set off, the blindfolded witch stumbled and let out a muffled yelp as the witch hunter hauled her up by the chain around her neck.

“Can she shoot spells from her eyes?” Firch asked irritably.

Andar gave him a blank look. “Excuse me?”

“Can this witch cast spells using her eyes?”

The witch hunter shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think I’ve heard of any that can…”

“Then it ought to be safe to remove her blindfold at the very least, don’t you think?” Firch suggested. “That way, we might get to the jungle before nightfall.”

“Ah.” The witch hunter looked at his prisoner for a moment, clearly not liking the prospect of her being able to see but unable to think of a compelling argument to keep the blindfold on. Reluctantly, he removed it. Though he only saw them for a moment before she squeezed them shut against the noon sun, Duglin thought her deep blue eyes were the most striking he had ever seen.

“Come on,” Andar growled as he tugged on her chain.

“I’d refrain from doing that as well,” Firch growled. “She’ll drown if she throws up with that thing around her mouth and I made a contract to get both of you to Darvigan alive.”

Anger flashed across the witch hunter’s face, but he hid it quickly with a broad smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain.”

Duglin was already struggling with the nausea that came with being in the presence of the witch hunter when a fresh wave hit him as soon as he set foot in the burnt out quarter of the village. Before he could stop himself, his stomach launched its contents at least three feet in front of him. Marsel, who was walking beside him, contorted her face with disgust before doing the same.

“I apologize, I had to intensify my powers for our protection,” Andar said as he touched a charred frame that was all that remained of a small home. “Yes, this is the work of a witch… one that has lost control…”

“Does that happen often?” Firch asked, keeping his hands on his weapons as he eyed the witch warily. “Them losing control?”

“Not with Imperial Spellflingers,” Andar replied. “It’s a key part of their training. She must have done something she was unaccustomed to doing… but any commander who has one serving under him should know better… I should quite like to meet this man.”

“I wouldn’t,” Firch said. “So what happens when a witch loses control?”

“She goes mad,” Andar replied. “Being connected to the magical forces that flow through our world is a constant battle to maintain one’s sanity. It requires unimaginable willpower, but once the will is broken… think of her as a critically damaged dam. What remains is doing its best to hold the water at bay, but eventually, it will fail…”

“How can you tell the dam hasn’t burst altogether?” Firch asked.

“She would have burned this whole island down if she had completely lost control,” Andar replied.

“I hope you’re not planning on mending this dam,” Firch warned. “I have no intention of taking another witch on board. Especially not an unstable one.”

“Of course not,” Andar said. “Her only salvation would be if there was a Sentinel on this island that we could somehow force her into. Attempting to get her any further would be far too dangerous.”

“I’m glad we agree,” Firch said.

Duglin happened to glance at the witch at that moment and saw the hatred in her eyes as she glared at his Captain. The boy then realized that his hand was coiled tight around his pistol and jerked it away. Then, the hairs on his neck stood on end. Moments later, a blood curdling screech filled the air, and Duglin found it hard to breathe. It felt like a hand had coiled itself around his heart and was beginning to squeeze. Then, the screech stopped.

“Pick yourselves up,” Firch’s voice was pitiless. “That didn’t come from far away.”

“So, this Imperial commander drives a witch insane, leaves her on this island and sails away,” Marsel croaked as she staggered to her feet. “That doesn’t seem very responsible of him.”

“What else could he have done?” Andar said. “Only a witch hunter or another witch has the means to stop an out of control witch.”

The Captain glanced at the witch hunter, who now clutched a staff in his hands. “If you’ve gleaned all you can from here, might I suggest we go in before she burns this island to cinders?”

The witch hunter’s face was white and bathed with sweat. Slowly, he nodded, and Firch gestured to Fultern. “You take the lead. Marsel, Duglin, bring up the rear. If you see anything that walks on two legs in there that isn’t one of us, you shoot first and ask questions later, do you understand?”

“Aye, Captain.”