Hours later, the Redland Runner drifted around the last buttes of the Sarulean Valley, the high noon sun shimmering overhead. The ship swung north, kicking up a trail of amber sand as it headed out into the rocky deserts beyond.

  Sheah paced along the deck, her mind well occupied. She stared out over the arid fields, watching for any hints of dark shapes on the horizon—Verloren warships, pirates, Unbound, whatever it might be. They were lucky to be on the road again, and she would not allow their expedition to be derailed before it had even begun. But with no trace of trouble to be seen, she let her thoughts wander back to Concord.

  For the duration of the morning, Sheah had steeped herself in the pleasant memories of village life, as well as those of Sheriff Lange’s stimulating company. Truly, her brief time in Concord had been the most serene experience she had known in recent memory. But adventure was calling, and as much as it pained her, it was time to move on and face the wide world once more.

  Sheah let out one last sigh before tucking away her wistful feelings—she needed to focus on the path ahead. There was no telling what perils lay in store for them in the days to come, or what schemes Verloren might have conjured during their five day absence.

  …Five days…

  Sheah tapped her finger on her lips. Suddenly, she snapped upright, a pit digging itself in her stomach. Swiveling around, she hustled down the stairs into the galley.

  “Ah, heya, Ms. Ziedler,” greeted Dez. He and Kaelis were seated at the table, enjoying their lunch of simple breads and salted meats. “Feelin’ hungry?”

  “Team conference,” Sheah announced. She strode past her crewmates, quickly noting their bemused looks before approaching the intercom on the wall. “Captain, team conference,” she said into the radio. “Pull over at your convenience.”

  “…Roger that,” replied Jira after a beat.

  The ship started to slow. Moments later, it shivered to a full stop.

  Sheah rushed into her quarters and rolled up the wide ream of paper splayed out on her writing desk. With the scroll balanced precariously in her arms, she exploded back out of her room, nearly tripping over her feet. She dashed back to the galley just as Jira was settling into the seat besides Dez—the crew was assembled.

  “Ahem! Attention team!” Sheah called as she marched up to the table. With a heave, she dropped the scroll onto the edge of the tabletop and briskly unfurled it across the surface. Dez and Kaelis scrambled to remove their plates as the roll of paper spilled towards them.

  The last fold of the scroll flopped open, revealing to the crew Sheah’s massive, exquisitely detailed map of the northern wastelands. It had everything a budding adventurer could ever ask for: labels of every peak and valley from the Grand Ravine to the northern pole, complete with elevation above sea level and topographic rings. Every single fort, outpost, and known settlement—be it modern or ancient—was meticulously accounted for, all of them strung together by a web of winding roadways.

  “I have been running some calculations, and I believe we need to adjust our course,” Sheah declared. She pointed at the atlas assertively, gesturing towards a dense swath of mountains running latitudinally across the wastes, bifurcating them into its two distinct halves: the Deadlands to the south, and the Graven Frontier to the north. “Due to our delay for repairs—again, wonderful job, Dez—”

  “Why thank you, Ms. Ziedler.”

  “Due to our delay, I believe that Verloren has had ample opportunity to overtake us.” She tapped her finger on the easternmost of two gaps in the mountain range, labeled on the map as ‘Richter’s Pass’. “While it is unlikely that the main body of their armada has passed beyond the lower plains, it is both possible, and probable, that a contingent of ships is now laying in wait at Richter’s Pass, watching for our arrival.”

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  “Mm, ya really think so?” asked Kaelis, a fistful of bread hanging from her mouth.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I dunno, Ms. Ziedler,” said Dez. “The pass is wider than ya think. Even if Verloren were able to set up a blockade, I doubt they got enough ships there by now to stop us from slippin’ through.”

  “Hm,” agreed Jira.

  “You do not know Verloren as I do,” Sheah reminded them with grave seriousness. “They have the resources, of that I am most certain.”

  Dez shrugged. “Just seems unlikely to me, that’s all.”

  “We could always scout ahead,” suggested Kaelis, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned in and tapped her finger on the map, pointing to a settlement marker a pinky’s length away from Richter’s Pass. “We can climb the old watchtower at Greyspire. We’ll have a clear view of the pass from the top. We go up, get a visual, and then we’ll know for sure.”

  “We go to Greyspire and we’ll be sittin’ targets,” said Dez, folding his arms. “There ain’t no cover there. The Red’ll be visible for miles. Might as well shoot up a flare, let everyone know where we are.”

  Jira nodded. “It’s risky.”

  “Well, I believe that it is too risky to attempt the pass without knowing what lies in store for us. As such, I propose we forego Richter’s Pass…” Sheah moved her finger west across the mountains, coming to a stop at a second, narrower gap between the hills. “…And we make for the Paradise Valley instead.”

  To Sheah’s surprise, the team shot up in their seats in unison. They stared at her, pale and stone-faced, as though she had suggested they drown puppies for fun.

  “No! Absolutely not!” cried Dez, halfway falling out of his chair.

  “What?” asked Sheah, having seemingly stumbled onto something well outside her purview. “Why not?”

  Kaelis shot her a nervous grimace. “The Paradise Valley is bad news.”

  “That’s the hotbed of Unbound activity this side of Fort Schirm,” Dez sputtered, fear circling his eyes. “It’s infested!”

  Kaelis nodded in agreement. “I’ve only heard stories, but almost nobody that goes into the valley comes out again.”

  “It’s suicide,” said Jira, folding her arms.

  Sheah let her teammates’ dismay for the idea sink in. “Oh… I see.”

  “Listen, Ms. Ziedler,” said Dez, being diplomatic, “I know yer worried about a blockade, but I know landships, and let me assure ya—the Redland Runner’s got what it takes to outmaneuver any Verloren ship in a pinch.”

  Sheah looked up to the ceiling in thought, tapping her finger against her cheek. “I don’t know…”

  “We’ll be fine. We just drive straight up the middle—they won’t know what hit ‘em. And with Jira at the wheel, there ain’t nothin’ gonna stop us.”

  Jira pridefully nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Yeah, nobody can outdrive Captain Sirroza,” added Kaelis, flashing Jira a bright smile.

  The Captain did not return it.

  “Right, then it’s settled!” Kaelis declared, slapping her hands together. “We continue as planned, and head towards the pass.”

  Dez and Jira quietly concurred, and the crew began to shuffle away from the table.

  “No, it is most certainly not settled!” Sheah exclaimed, slamming her palms against the tabletop. The team froze and slowly reversed back into their seats.

  Sheah took a deep breath and shut her eyes, calming herself. Once again, she needed to convince her crewmates that she was a leader worth following. She thought back to Lange, and the faith she’d had in her.

  “…Firecracker…” she breathed.

  Sheah opened her eyes and sat upright. “I am asking you all to trust me,” she calmly stated, exuding authority as best she could. “I have had an inside look at Verloren for my entire life. I understand how they operate, and just how extensive their war machine truly is. So when I say that it is too dangerous to so blindly attempt the pass, it is not a statement I make frivolously.” She looked at each member of the crew one by one, staring deep into their eyes. “So please, let us at least follow Kaelis’s suggestion. We go to the tower at Greyspire, and we scout out the scene before proceeding. Yes?”

  The rest of the team shot each other furtive glances, none of them wishing to be the first to speak. Finally, they all simultaneously shrugged and mumbled in agreement.

  Sheah’s impassioned plea had worked! Her team was practically swayed by her words. She savored the sweet, meager triumph.

  “Wonderful. Thank you.” Sheah stood and rolled up her map. “Oh, and do not forget—I am in charge of this vessel, and what I say goes. Okay? Great. Let us sally forth!”

  The team pursed their lips and glanced at each other as Sheah glided towards the stairs to the deck.

  Kaelis shrugged, chuckling to herself before breaking from the table with the rest of the crew.

  “Hey, she’s the boss.”