As they did, the sword hand of one of the zombies fell off, sliced clean at the wrist. The undead pirate gaped at the oozing stump in mindless confusion. A moment later, its entire arm fell off at the shoulder. Then its nose slipped from its face, followed by an ear. Then all at once, the zombie fell apart into a score of neatly sliced pieces that tumbled quivering to the deck. Corin stared at his rapier in amazement.

Though only four zombies remained, things still looked ill. Corin’s second foe was too close for the nobleman to try another fancy maneuver. Beckla's knife was proving to be no match for the cutlass of the pirate who faced her. Still fending off the blows of a zombie on either side, Artek was unable to make headway against either. Guss hovered in midair, uncertain which of his companions most needed his help. There was time to aid only one.

At that moment the schooner was swept into churning rapids. The ship lurched violently toward starboard, then a half-second later tilted toward the port side again. Corin fell sprawling on all fours. His foe clumsily tripped over him, flipped head over heels, broke through the railing, and tumbled overboard. The zombie facing Beckla lurched forward, impaling itself on her outthrust knife. She spun to the side, jerking her blade out of its body, and the pirate fell flailing over the side of the ship. Artek managed to keep his feet planted on the heaving deck and took advantage of the confusion, severing the head from one of his flailing opponents.

Now that only one zombie remained, Guss did not hesitate. The gargoyle swooped down from above and plucked up the last of the ten pirates. Clutching the creature in midair, he raked the pirate's belly with his hind claws. Entrails spilled out like dark snakes, but the zombie was not defeated. It swung its cutlass blindly. The rusted metal bit into the flesh of Guss's shoulder, then shattered. Guss let out a cry of pain as brilliant green blood streamed down his arm. He clenched his clawed hands, rending the zombie in two, then flung the still-squirming halves into the raging waters of the river.

Breathing hard, Artek looked around. The rest of the zombie crew still went mindlessly about their various tasks, taking no notice that their undead shipmates had been destroyed, or that the prisoners were now free. The cursed saber jerked in his hands, tugging him toward the nearest zombies. Forcibly, he tried to sheathe the magical blade, his face twisting with effort. The muscles of his arms rippled and bulged, but it was no use-he could not release the saber. As long as there were zombies remaining, the cursed blade would force him to fight. The sword pulled him another step toward the nearest pirates.

"I can't resist the saber much longer," he said through clenched teeth. "And I have a bad feeling that as soon as I attack one of the zombies, the rest of them will come after us."

"You're probably right," Beckla agreed somberly, slipping her bloody knife beneath her belt. «I’ll help you keep your ground."

"No, stay back!" cried Artek. "I might hit you with the saber. That goes for all of you-keep away!"

"Where's Guss?" Corin asked as he climbed to his feet.

"Here I am!" a rumbling voice called from above. Stubby wings beating up a stiff breeze, Guss dropped down from the darkness and settled onto the rolling deck.

Beckla moved quickly toward him, concern in her brown eyes. "Guss, you're hurt!" She examined the ragged wound on his arm. Bits of dirt and rust were embedded in the cut, and it already looked as if it were beginning to fester. "We need to clean this wound now. There's no telling what filth was on that zombie's sword."

Guss wiped the sweat from his brow with a clawed hand. "There's no time."

"What's going on?" Artek demanded, straining against the pull of the saber. His boots skidded on the slimy planks as he slid another foot forward. Once again the ship tilted wildly to the side, then slowly righted itself.

"While you were recovering, I flew ahead of the ship to scout out the rapids," Guss explained quickly. The others listened in growing dread as the gargoyle described what he had seen. "We're in the worst of the rapids now-it doesn't get any rougher than this. I think we can make it. But up ahead, the cavern and the river both divide. Down the right-hand passage, the waters grow calmer."

"And down the left?" Beckla asked nervously.

Guss's long pause was as terrifying as the words that followed. "Farther down the left-hand passage, there's a great roar. The river drops over a huge waterfall. I don't know how high the falls are." The gargoyle licked his scaly lips with a green tongue. "I couldn't see the bottom in the dark."

Artek swore, still fighting the saber's pull. "The captain has been keeping the ship to the left side of the cavern. He must be steering The Black Dart toward the waterfall."

"But why?" Corin asked fearfully. "The ship will be broken to bits."

"Why not?" Beckla replied. "The captain's already dead. What does he have to lose?"

Artek racked his brain until he hit upon a plan. It was not elegant-hardly the level of the crafty thieving jobs he had executed in the past-but it was all he could come up with. He struggled against the murderous will of the cursed saber. He had to remain in control only a few moments more, and then the blade could do its work.

"Guss," he gasped. "Fly ahead of the ship and keep watch on our progress. Call out when we're near the fork in the river. Beckla, Corin-try to find a way to distract the crew. Use your imaginations! Anything you can do to gain their attention without getting yourself killed will work."

"But what are you going to do?" Beckla asked urgently.

"I'm going to try to convince the captain to change our course,"

With that, they set to their tasks. Guss rose into the air, wings flapping. He disappeared into the gloom ahead, though not before the others saw him grimace in pain and clutch at the wound on his arm. Grunting with effort, Artek managed to turn and point the quivering saber toward the prow of the ship. The zombie captain stood before the wheel, spinning it wildly as The Black Dart careened down the rapids.

"There," Artek whispered fiercely. "That is our enemy. That is the one we must slay."

To his wonder and relief, the saber seemed to understand his words. It jumped in his hands, ignoring the other zombies, and pulled him toward the pirate captain. This time Artek did not resist. He let the saber lead him toward the prow. It was time to stage a mutiny.

Beckla rummaged through a heap of crates, barrels, and assorted refuse. There had to be something here that would help them.

What are you doing, Beckla? cried a voice in her head. This wasn't part of the deal. They're as good as dead. You should use it now!

"There's still time," she muttered under her breath.

Time for what, Beckla?" Corin asked. The nobleman stood nearby, wringing his hands.

Beckla swore inwardly. She was getting careless. That was the surest way to get herself killed. And getting killed was definitely not the point of this exercise.

There's still time to help Artek," she said firmly.

Beckla flipped open the lid of an old chest. It was filled with rusted fishing gear, none of it worthwhile. She started to let the lid drop back down when two objects caught her eye. She looked up at Corin.

"Can you shoot a bow?" she asked quickly.

The young lord shrugged. "I studied archery as a lad, as all nobles do." A wan smile crossed his pale visage. "I wasn't half bad, if I do say so myself. Why do you ask?"

This is why." Beckla pulled a short bow and a quiver of arrows from the chest and thrust them toward a surprised Corin. The weapon was old, but the bowstring had been wrapped in oiled leather and was still sound. The arrows were rusted at the tip, and their shafts were warped, but they would do.