The Silver Talon’s name was quite apt: every inch of the ship was painted a glossy sterling silver that glowed beneath the afternoon sun. Even the sails fastened to their three masts, which were all pulled taut to catch every ounce of the southeastern winds that carried the behemoth across the choppy waters, were made of argent fabric.

Attached to the tallest central mast was a flag of black cloth, dark as an abyss, fluttering proudly in the breeze. The brand of the Silver Talon was imprinted onto the flag, set next to the profile of a pony’s skull. Beneath the fearsome colors was a red pennant, crimson as the blood spilled by the ponies, thestrals, and griffons that bustled about the decks beneath. The red pennant sent a terrible message to all who viewed it: mercy would not be asked for nor given. A battle with Whitestone and her pirates would be a battle to the death.

The griffon pirate herself stood on the poop deck, her crest feathers dancing in the wind as she observed her crew at work. The image from her wanted poster did not do her justice: her pale body of two-toned gray and white was as lean and muscular as a lion king from the savannah. Her massive wings were currently tucked to her sides, but opened enough to feel the wind rustling at her feathers. Her yellow eyes, like amber orbs set into her face, stared out onto the main deck, where her crew of pirates worked, talked and entertained themselves out in the sun.

“Captain?” a voice timidly asked behind her. Whitestone did not turn: she could already picture the little pony well enough, staring up at her with the expression of reverential deference that she worked hard to imbue into the ponies and griffons that were to fight, steal, kill and die for her.

“What about Calico and Bantam?” the lubber was saying quietly. “Shouldn’t we have waited for them?”

“They knew the risks of this work when they volunteered,” Whitestone replied, her tone calm even as she stared out across the deck, searching for the familiar scruffy blue mane and tomato red coat, even though she knew they were not there to be found. “They did their job, and did it well. That is all that I ask out of my crew. I have faith that if they didn’t make it back, they will be waiting for us when we return.”

“What if they get caught?” the lubber protested. “What if they talk?”

“They won’t,” Whitestone answered in the same blank tone of voice, turning slightly to face the young, sunburnt earth pony. He trembled beneath her gaze, his aquamarine eyes automatically focusing on the scarlet red scar across her jawline.

“I have faith that they will not surrender, faith that they both had earned,” Whitestone stated matter of factly. She locked her eyes onto his. “Just like I have faith in you.”

“Y-yes, captain,” the pony said, stepping back and bowing slightly.

“Now get back to your post,” Whitestone ordered, turning away from him. The pony hurried away.

“Don’t know why you bother with those tenderhooves,” grumbled a voice next to Whitestone. Out of the corner of her eye, Whitestone regarded the speaker: a tall griffon with a reddish-brown coat and a short-cropped crest that was covered with a lime green headband. The griffon’s left eye was covered by a dark, thin scar; the other dark blue eye was wide open, glaring at the crew with a steely gaze. A black bandana was tied around his left bicep. Three cutlasses rested at his right hip.

“They have their uses, Roaring,” Whitestone told her first mate. “It’s not like we can always get the best of the lot. I believe in them, just like I once believed in you.”

“You flatter me, captain,” Roaring grunted, gazing out at a small group of trembling rookies that were being yelled at by the boatswain, Iron Steed. The slate-gray coated unicorn thrust his boulder-like build into the face of one of the recruits and threateningly shook his cat-o’-nine-tails. The young thestral shivered and rapidly nodded.

“If nothing else, we can use them as meatshields in a firefight,” Roaring commented.

“True,” Whitestone agreed with a small smirk.

“Captain! I think I noticed something,” another female voice called. Whitestone and Roaring turned to face the speaker, a tall, thin pegasus mare with flowing orange mane and tail and a yellow coat. Her cutie mark was a pair of tangerines, and a long spear was strapped across her back.

“What is it, Satsuma?” Whitestone asked, walking over the table where her navigator was examining a set of sea charts and the captured journal.

“Well, I was looking over the riddle,” Satsuma stated, gesturing to the open transcription before her. “I’m guessing that most of these things like ‘seven sisters’ and ‘wandering colt’ refer to landmarks on Aushaylia.”

“That’s what we got Finder for,” Roaring grunted.

Satsuma bit her lip at the mention of the name, a flicker of nervousness passing across her face before she continued. “But there’s this last line: ‘I opened it with the key that I had held in my deepest sleep.’”

“What does that mean?” Whitestone asked.

“Well, I did hear a legend once that Bushwacker had the key to his treasure buried with him,” Satsuma explained.

“Hmm,” Whitestone muttered, her eyes slowly falling to the deck of the ship.

Far beneath them, in the dark, dank hold of the Talon, four pirates stood around a flickering oil lamp. Through a door of rusty iron bars, they observed their prisoner, who glared stonily back at them. The light from the lamp cast his face into harsh shadows, making his stormcloud gray eyes seem to glow. The captured green vest and old gray trilby sat on a crate next to the captors.

“Look at him, in there,” one of the pirates muttered to his companions. “Not so tough after all.”

“Keep thinking that,” the prisoner said in a cold whisper, his eyes focusing on the speaker. The pirate gulped and did not speak again.

Phillip considered his guards. He was currently locked in the brig of a pirate ship in the middle of the Celestial Sea, disarmed of his gear. So why had Whitestone ordered four of her crew to guard him at all times?

He deliberately allowed a small smile to spread across his face, and watched in satisfaction as all four of the ponies forced themselves not to flinch. They feared him.

And he was not the only one they should be afraid of.

Applejack clambered across the gangway and onto the Over There, balancing a sack of apples on her back. “Okay, that’s the last of it!” she chirped happily, setting the sack down onto the deck.

“Cast off, then!” Mainsail bellowed from the poop deck. “We leave immediately!”

With a flash of her magic, Twilight undid the ropes that were tying the schooner to the docks and neatly coiled them up on the deck. Mainsail took the wheel and spun it hard, pulling the ship away from the docks and out into the open waters, the group cheering as they set out. The setting sun stood at their stern, casting them in its golden glow. The ship rose and fell over the waves as they pulled away from the shore, leaving the city of Baltimare far behind them.

“Whoo-hoo!” Pinkie cheered, leaning over the railing on the bow. The wind lifted up her mane, sending it flowing out around her head. “We’re on our way to Aushaylia! Break out the rum, me hearties!”

“We don’t have any rum, Pinkie,” Fluttershy pointed out.

“What?” Pinkie shouted. “Why is the rum gone?”

“Uh…” a bewildered Fluttershy stammered.

Applejack carried the sack of apples down the stairs and into the hold of the ship, storing the food with the rest of their supplies: enough food, water and other necessities for at least two weeks travel.

“Hope it’ll be enough,” she muttered to herself, returning to the main deck. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air of the sea, allowing the winds to gently tug at her mane and tail. Opening her eyes once more, she looked around and saw Starlight Glimmer standing at the starboard railing. She was examining a lifeboat hanging from the mast, checking to make sure that there were enough emergency supplies in the raft’s hold.

Applejack walked over to Starlight. “I’m still not happy about you lying to Mainsail,” she started.

Starlight turned to face Applejack. “I didn’t like it either, but we needed his help, and he wouldn’t have given it to us if we had told him the truth,” she said bluntly.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Applejack protested.

“What would you have me say? ‘Hey, our friend got kidnapped by a band of murdering pirates, you want to help us chase after them?’” Starlight scoffed. “Would you have helped if you were in his position and I had told you that?”

Applejack opened her mouth, but her reply stuck in her throat. She slowly closed her mouth and, on a pretense of needing to think, turned to the lifeboat. It was a long, wide canoe with several benches, large enough for all ten of them to sit in and still have room. The white exterior paint was peeling, and the lacquer on the reddish-brown interior had long ago faded. There was a large box in the stern for emergency supplies, and an oar strapped to the interior of both sides.

“No,” Applejack finally admitted. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Starlight nodded grimly. “And it’s not like we exactly lied to him, right? We just...kind of hid the truth from him,” she mumbled slowly.

Applejack gave her a stern look. “We willingly put ourselves in harm’s way for our friend, but we have to be careful about bringing other ponies into it. They’re not always prepared for it; sometimes they don’t do the right thing. Sometimes they make the wrong decisions for what they think are the right reasons.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow at her. “Are we still talking about Mainsail?”

“We might be, we might not,” Applejack answered. Turning away, she walked up to the poop deck. Mainsail was standing at the wheel, his eyes on the horizon as he steered his beloved ship. His back was straight and proud and his posture confident, solid as a rock despite the rocking of the ship. One glance told a viewer that this was a proud sailor, well at home on the seas.

“So,” Applejack called as she approached. “You ever have to deal with pirates?”

“A few times,” Mainsail replied calmly. He glanced at the compass mounted on a stand next to him and brought his left hoof down a bit.

Applejack felt her heartbeat speed up a bit. “You, er, know what to do with them?”

The grizzled captain raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked.

“No…” Applejack winced, hating the bitter taste of the lie as it laboriously forced itself out of her throat.

Mainsail smiled at her. “Don’t worry, lass. First of all, pirates aren’t as common as you might think. Secondly, we’re too small for most pirates to worry about, and we’re fast enough to avoid any pirates that we see coming.” He turned his attention back to the horizon. “Pirates are an accepted risk of sailing in these waters, but we shouldn’t have any trouble. We’ll reach Aushaylia in a few days.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Applejack said. She placed her forelegs against the stern railing and looked out to the west, pulling her hat down over her eyes to shield them from the lowering sun. Baltimare and the Equestrian mainland were already far away, seeming to shrink into the sea. Beneath her, a wake trailed out over the waters, marking their path. She scanned the sea, but the smooth surface was bare. No ships were in sight.

“Hey, how about a song?” Pinkie suggested. “Ninety-nine bottles of rum on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of—”

“NO!” everypony else shouted.

“Aww,” Pinkie grumbled.

The night descended slowly on the sea, the moon slowly rising above the dark, rippling water that attempted to mimic the star-spangled indigo expanse above. The Over There continued to slowly trundle across the ocean, its speed reduced by the lack of wind.

Down in the lower decks, Twilight was sprawled across the mattress of one of the fixed berths, her horn lit up as she studied an open book that lay on her faded white pillow. Occasionally, she would let out a small noise of surprise and joy and jot down something in the yellow notepad next to her with a scarlet quill.

“Fascinating!” she cried to herself, eagerly writing down a note. “I wonder if marsupial animals evolved on the Aushaylian island and then migrated to parts of the Equestrian mainland.” She paused and yawned, then continued writing down ideas. “Or maybe the island was part of the mainland once and drifted apart due to tectonic movement. I could perform the first field study of marsupials in their native habitat in—eep!” she suddenly squeaked as she felt a pair of strong forelegs wrapping themselves around her.

“You really should get some sleep,” Flash scolded her gently, nuzzling her cheek.

“But this is important,” Twilight protested, trying and failing to resist the temptation to nuzzle him back. “This book on the flora and fauna of Aushaylia is fascinating, and it could help us when we reach the island!”

“Yes, but it’s late and you still need to sleep, Princess,” Flash said in a firmer tone, releasing her.

Twilight frowned, both at the loss of contact and from the fact that he referred to her by her title, a sign that he was trying to be stern with her.

“But I’m not—” Her counter argument was rudely interrupted by a yawn.

“You have a couple more days of sailing ahead of us,” Flash replied, closing the book and placing it and her notepad and quill on the table next to the bed. “The book will be waiting for you in the morning.”

Twilight tried to frown at him, but the effort was too great. Sleep was creeping up on her, unstoppable, irresistible. “I suppose,” she admitted slowly, laying her head back down on the pillow. “That I could close my eyes for...just a moment…” She closed her eyes, and three seconds later, was snoring softly.

Chuckling to himself, Flash pulled the covers over her sleeping form. “Sometimes, Twilight, I feel like I’m protecting you from yourself more than other ponies,” he whispered and kissed her on the forehead. His princess smiled in her sleep. Flash tenderly removed the silver engagement ring from her wing and placed it on the table. It matched the ring that he wore on his own feathers. He smiled broadly as he remembered picking the matching set out for her.

He loved being engaged to her.

Turning, Flash walked past the other berths. Applejack, Pinkie, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Starlight were all curled up on one of the mattresses, already fast asleep. Flash climbed up the set of stairs and exited out onto the main deck, where the low breeze gently wafted through his mane and coat. He shivered, despite the weight and warmth of his armor, and looked up at the stars. Were he in Ponyville, he would be probably enjoying the great canvas that Luna had painted upon, safe in the castle with Twilight and Spike by his side. But out here, in the middle of the Celestial Sea, the distant lights made him feel small and impotent: once again, the waves of fate had tossed him and the ponies he had sworn to protect into a dangerous, unknown situation.

“How do these things keep happening to me?” he sighed to himself as he walked up to the poop deck. Rainbow and Daring were there, having volunteered to take the first watch while Mainsail slept. Rainbow stood at the helm, smiling broadly as she continued to steer the schooner southeast. Daring stood at a nearby table, comparing Billabong’s atlas with a collection of sea charts by the light of an oil lantern. The flickering flame reflected off of the lenses of her red-rimmed reading glasses.

“Hey, Flash,” Rainbow greeted him as he approached. “This is awesome!”

“That does look like fun,” Flash agreed, watching Rainbow at the wheel. He walked over to Daring.

“You okay?” he asked Daring.

“I’m fine,” Daring replied curtly, continuing to study the maps. “We need to plot our course. Whitestone’s got almost a full day’s head start on us.”

Flash frowned to himself. “Look, I know you’re worried about Phil. If you ever—”

“I don’t—” Daring started to snap at him, but then stopped herself. She closed her eyes and took a breath, then turned to Flash and spoke more softly. “I appreciate your concern, Flash, but I’m all right. Really, I am.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Flash said hesitatingly. He paused, studying the maps on the table before her.

“Hey, I just thought I should tell you something,” Flash started to say. He paused and cleared his throat. “When I said that Phil was family...I, uh...I meant it. Because he—”

“He adopted you as his son,” Daring finished.

Flash blinked. “Oh. He told you, right?”

“He did,” Daring nodded, turning to him. She removed her glasses and gave him a small smile. “It was a bit surprising, but I know Phil well enough to know that he’s not the sentimental type. If he took you in, it’s because he had a good reason for it. And that’s good enough for me.” She grinned and tussled Flash’s mane. “Guess you’re not such a tenderhoof anymore.”

“Thanks,” Flash smiled back.

“You know how to use a sextant?” Daring asked him, holding up the navigational instrument. “Let me teach you, and you can help me plot our course.”

“Sure,” Flash agreed, taking his place at her side. For a few moments, the doubt that was plaguing him since he had pulled away from the docks was dispelled, banished by the warmth of his friends.

Author's Notes:

Only five days since the last chapter: I'm on a roll!

And so are the ponies.