"Rifle!" Markus cried, sheathing his accursed sword and racing across the deck, ragged cloak flying. He called for it again, and Sketti came out of the hold with an old flintlock in hand. Markus lifted his hand even as the dwarf chucked it at Markus. They had no doubt confiscated and taken most arms, but a few had been kept hidden by the meticulous quartermaster. If you wanted something hidden or found, you got a dwarf. Their eyes could see imperfections in stone impeccably, but they could use their eyes in a similar vein when it came to timber and steel, though perhaps to a lesser extent.

Markus raced up the aft-castle as the Hammer rocked from the virulent waves, the barrel of the rifle flipping into his other waiting hand as he hefted the weapon.

"Loaded and ready!" The dwarf bellow from the deck, but Markus didn't need to be informed. A wind rushed by him, spraying droplets of water across hid dark mane of hair. His body nor his aim were moved, closing one eye as he lowered the other to level with the iron sights. The dark sorceress was swiftly fading away, though he could tell she wished to catch up even without her steed. Thunder rumbled across the turbulent seascape, and Markus waited with bated patience as the ship rocked from another wave. A fell voice rose in the air, and men wailed as they heard another spell about to be unleashed. Markus merely breathed out and in, still as stone.

Lightning raked across the sky, and as the thunder followed, so did the rifle shot. Smoke mingled with the smell of sweat and sea water, and as the light faded across the sky, Markus saw the figure of the sorceress suddenly plummet towards the waves. He kept his eye on the horizon for another moment, but he could see naught but darkness and the silhouette of the jagged, druchii spires that threatened to pierce the clouds.

Emmaline had climbed the steps, blowing bits of her golden hair out of her face, looking at him in bewilderment. "The spell...did you hit her? From this dista-aaaOOMMM"

Markus had thrown the rifle to the floor of the deck, grabbed Emmaline and pulled her in to a kiss that was filled with the celebratory energy of a man that had escaped desperation. He pulled away from her, but still held her in his arms. He didn't specify, but he was thinking of her work on the chain and the death of the pegasus. "I knew I kept you around for some reason." He said with a fierce grin, and then his eyes went down to her heaving chest. "One of the reasons, anyway. Good job, Emma."

"What now, Captain!?" Sketti called up, and Markus, holding Emmaline, was now overlooking the whole crew on the deck, watching him fervently. The pirate squeezed his woman to him with one arm, and in the other he unsheathed his black sword as lightning wreathed the sky.

"Onto to the orient, lads! We'll stop at the next isle and forage for food, then to Ind and all the plunder of their forgotten gods!"

Two Weeks Later

"This is crazy, its un'atural 'ain 'it?" Carlos demanded. He was a big man, a former Marienburg stevedore who still had the odd clipped accent of the lower class of the great merchant entrepot. Emmaline, sitting on a nearby rock, was inclined to agree. The Hammer lay at anchor in the shallow bay with most of her crew ashore. They had escaped the clutches of the dark elves, several sails had been spotted in pursuit, but the violent storm had provided cover. Markus had turned them south and held the heading, confounding the elves reasonable assumption that they would run for Ulthan or the Old World. Instead he had brought them here, to this shallow bay with its sparsely wooded hinterland. It was, she was told and isthmus, though she was only vaguely aware of what that was. Markus, Sketti and the two elves had talked incessantly for days, discussing the lead that Van Robert's had on them and the impossibility of making it up before the trade winds changed or some such nautical nonsense.

The solution was, apparently, simple. If they couldn't beat Van Roberts around the continent, then they would have to go over it. Under Sketti's direction the crew were engaged in clear cutting the sparsely wooded plain infront of them. Trees were felled, shorn of branches, and then laid a few feet apart to form rollers. A rough corridor was forming, that would mark the voyage of the hammer across seven miles of plain to the head waters of a river which would take her to the eastern sea. It seemed an impossible task, but Sketti assured them it was possible and as it was the only practical method of beating Van Roberts, it was necessary. Markus was yelling at the crew as they fastened great hawsers of anchor cable around the largest surviving trees. Other crew members were busy unloading guns, ballast and supplies, transferring them to sleds that could be hauled more easily. Anything that could lighten the ship was being hauled by hand to reduce the chances of her breaking her back or becoming hopelessly mired far from the ocean. For her own part Emmaline was standing before one of their former cannons, creatively convinced to take the form of a cauldron for her current purpose. A reeking brew of seaweed bubbled in it, heated by a constant fire fueled by the branches shorn from trees. Every ten minutes or so she skimmed a gallon or so of grease off the top into water barrels donated for the purpose. Crew men took the grease and spread it on the first score of rollers with mops, making them glisten in the morning sun.

"Alright!" Markus called, "We are ready. Begin!"

Out on the Hammer the Capstan's began to turn. Slowly the hawsers raised out of the water, pulling taught. Everyone had paused in their labors to watch. Emmaline could here the distant thrum of a shanty.

"Roll and go! Roll and go!"

With infinite slowness the ship approached the shore. Crewmen, neck deep in water held the first few rollers in place, the prow forcing them under the water and down to the gravel bottom. The Hammer juddered and came to a halt.

"Pump me boys, pump her dry!"

With shuddering groans the ship continued to move, slowly sliding up onto the beach, the making tide following her along as far as she could go.

"Down to hell and up to the sky!"

The ship slid up and out of the water completely, seeming to pick up a little speed as solid ground and greased rollers got under neath her.

"Bend your backs and break your bones!"

Lesser cables were run to other trees, hauling side ways to keep the great vessel straight. This had to be repeated every fifty feet or so, but so far between Markus and Sketti they were keeping it going. Emmaline had imagined they would use the sails for motive force but Markus had explained this was impossible, the balance was too delicate to allow for such unpredictable things as wind.

"We're just a thousand miles from home!"

With the slow majesty of the avalanche the ship began to move across the plain. It was less than a walking pace, and men grabbed rollers which had been passed over and hauled them to the front of the line to be reused.

"I will be buggered," Emmaline breathed. This might just be crazy enough to work.