"That was a cannonball," Keritanima said in a calm voice. "It's a common technique to get range on a target."

There was another blast of water, this one closer but off to the right, making Tarrin flinch. What power! He had never seen a device that could hurl steel balls such great distances! Keritanima's stories seemed plausible when she told them, but to see the reality of it was something that was nearly overwhelming. He realized that as the ship grew closer, it would come into range to hit the galleon with those steel balls, and they would get better and better at aiming them when the distance wasn't such a mitigating factor.

It was a strange, frightening experience. This was a contest between ships, vessels, and he felt helpless to do anything about it. He knew that his Sorcery could probably do some damage, but with his lack of control, he couldn't tell who it would hurt more. That left him feeling powerless, and that feeling angered the animal instincts within him. That his life now hinged on the marksmanship of the man on the other side of that cannon was a very sharp realization to him, and it made him dig his claws into the railing in both fear and frustration.

"Any ideas, Kern?" Dolanna asked.

"I'm still thinkin', milady," he growled. "I ain't never been caught like this on the open sea before. I don't got many options."

Allia put her hand over Tarrin's paw, and he looked at her. Her nervousness over a new, strange, and fearful situation was plain on her face, but she still managed to give him a slight smile. "Kern won't appreciate you tearing up his polished rail," she told him in Selani.

Tarrin looked down, and saw that his claws had dug several very deep furrows in the highly polished wood. "I'll buy him a new rail," he replied, looking back to the clipper again.

Another cannonball came crashing down into the sea, then another, and yet another, and each time they hit closer and closer to the ship. The last made Tarrin and Allia flinch away from the stern, and sprayed them with cool salt water. It had struck not ten paces from the stern.

"Their shots are getting closer!" Allia called urgently.

"Dolanna, if ye got a trick, now may be a good time to use it," Kern told her bluntly. "I don't have enough sail to outrun her, and her guns will chew us up if we turn around and try to engage."

"Keritanima, do you know where they keep their gunpowder?" Dolanna asked immediately.

"Unless they've refitted the ship, yes," she replied immediately.

"Do you think a fire somewhere near that powder would persuade them to stop?" she asked.

Keritanima chuckled, then flinched away as a spray of water from a cannonball sizzled across the sterncastle. She sucked in her breath in both surprise and shock as the cold water knifed into her fur, then she let out a growling cry of fury as she snapped both arms down. "This was a new dress!" she snapped in fury. "Just get me close enough to that ship, Dolanna, and I'll blow it out of the water!"

"Never mess with Kerri's wardrobe," Faalken said with a wink to Azakar.

"So it would seem," he replied sagely.

"No, Keritanima, to try to get that close would be suicide. We will have to try to do this from a distance. Kern, would you be so kind as to have your men ready the port catapult?"

"Sure, but it ain't got the range to reach-" His remark was interrupted by an ear-splitting boom that rocked the ship. Flying bits of wood screamed through the air as the entire ship shuddered and jerked under them, sending many people to the deck. Tarrin and Allia both were pitched backwards, struck the rail, and then tumbled over and found nothing but empty air beneath them. He dimly spotted the railing, and his claws caught it by the very tips, snapping him to a halt as something heavy struck him at the base of his tail.

No, something heavy was holding onto his tail. He became aware of Allia's hands gripping his tail in a vise-like grip, and her screams managed to drown out the cracking and groaning of wood and the reverberations of the horrid sound that still bounced around inside the ship. The weight of both him and Allia weren't even a challenge to his superhuman strength, but his very precarious position, the very tips of his claws caught on the very edge of the railing, made any sudden moves or attempts to use leverage very dangerous.

Raising his feet, he drove them into the planking of the ship claws first, getting a very solid purchase. Using that, he grabbed hold of the railing with both paws, then lifted Allia up by snaking his tail over and up, literally lifting her to where she could get hold of the deck. "What was that?" Allia demanded over the ringing in his ears.

"I think one of the cannonballs hit us!" Tarrin replied as he helped her up, then someone grabbed her and pulled her back over the rail. He froze when another loud bang shocked his ears, and he felt the concussion of another strike on the water slam into him like some kind of gigantic hand trying to flatten him against the wooden planking into which his footclaws were driven. His claws were too deeply embedded to jar him loose, and he held that perch with trembling muscles as he was literally soaked with flying seawater. That was too close! Adrenalin began surging through him even as the fear and uncertainty of the dangerous situation began sinking into his mind, and he felt the Cat begin to stir, to rise up from its corner in his mind and see if it was important enough to attempt to take control to ensure survival.

"No, no, no," he said through gritted teeth, frantically trying to maintain his control over his own mind. Hanging on the stern with eyes closed, he barely felt or registered another stinging spray of seawater slam into his back as he struggled to keep control of himself. He only dimly heard the shouts of people over him, then felt large, powerful hands grab hold of his paws. He opened his eyes to see Binter and Sisska, each with a paw, pulling him back on deck by main force, tearing his claws out of the wood and pulling him over the rail.

The scene above was one of chaos. A huge hole cratered the steerage deck where the steering helm had once been, and a splatter of gore was all that was left of the steersman. Kern lay near that hole, his left arm laying on the deck some paces away from him and his body almost totally covered in blood, being tended by a grim-looking Dolanna. The hole widened until it reached the edge of the steering deck, and debris and blood were littered all over the deck below. Sailors rushed about almost mindlessly, trying to tack to the wind as the ship began to list and turn to the starbord as others attempted to control the damage done by the cannonball strike. The ship immediately began to turn against the wind, only to be pushed back by the blowing air. The device that turned the ship had moved, and it was fighting against the blowing winds, and that was slowing the ship.

Tarrin's mind was cloudy, befuddled, from the loud noises, the shock, and his attempts to retain control, but he fixated on Kern. He pulled out of Binter's grasp and rushed over to the horribly injured captain, his eyes almost glowing as he reached out and put a paw on his mangled shoulder. He touched the Weave, but in his mental state, he felt something more, something expansive. He touched the Weave, and it responded to him gently, smoothly, with no sudden tidal wave of power that always wrested control away from him. Weaving together flows of Fire, Earth, Divine energy, and Water, he laid his paw on Kern and released it, watching as the mangled stump of his shoulder quickly and effortlessly began to grow. Bone and muscle raced away from the shoulder, more and more of it, filling in with sinew, tendon, and tissue, until it ended at the many bones of the wrist. It feathered out from there, into fingers, and the grayish-red color of the muscle suddenly flushed with blood, then covered over with skin. The sight was somewhat gruesome to behold, but the end result was a new arm to replace the one that was laying some paces away from Kern. The grizzled old captain's gray eyes opened curiously, clear and lucid, and they stared up into the Were-cat's eyes in confusion.