Battle of the Minds
The warm ocean wind butted against the bare face of the cliffs and raged upward, boiling over the top in near-gale force. Above the turbulence, an eagle circled, passing from thermal to thermal with seamless ease. His sharp eyes were focused downward, not upon prey, but upon the tiny figure of a man struggling up the steep trail that ascended the cliff.
The sailor, who had just beached a small dinghy and begun to climb, was from the Strega De Lo Mare; He had slipped away early from the port where the ship was docked to take on cargo. The man stopped periodically, and surveyed the sea and shore, but it did not occur to him to look up. But even had he done so, there was nothing unusual about an eagle patrolling the sea, searching for fish.
As the sailor neared the crest of the path, an unnatural calm settled over the area. The powerful ocean wind died to a whisper, and the breaking waves to small rollers. An oppressive silence blanketed the shore and surrounding forest.
The eagle folded his wings, and fell into a stoop, flaring just as he reached the trees, and dropped silently into the bushes. A flash of light momentarily illuminated the clearing, and a tall, bronzed warrior crept near the edge of the forest.
The hair on Goldeagle's nape was still erect, as his keen eyes swept the area. He'd sensed the magic even before the stillness, but his powers were lessened in his eagle form, and he could not discern the direction from which it emanated. He knew one thing, though, the caster was immensely powerful. There was more danger surrounding him, his friend Sicilian, and the Strega De Lo Mare, than mere piracy. They were all in deadly peril!
Slumping into a sitting position, Goldeagle closed his eyes, and let his spirit meld into the forest. He became the tree, the grass, the bushes. He heard the hum of the insects, the low throb of leaves absorbing sunlight. His mind leapt to the birds, as they flitted from limb to limb, tree to tree in the dappled shade. Through it all, there was another sound, a distinct wrongness in the forest song. He raced through the trees in an ever-widening circle, then with unholy suddenness, he was face to face with his adversary.
The two powerful minds met in a mental explosion of sparks. Surprise, then rage, then awe. They tested each other in mental pushing and prodding, wrestled through whispered incantations. The forest bent, withered, exploded into flame, then rebuilt itself. Time accelerated, then stood still. It tied itself in knots, then released itself. Animals scattered in fright, then were tossed into the air. They were dragged back, screaming in frightened bleats, then scattered like strewn pebbles. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The other mind was no longer there, and Goldeagle collapsed into his own sweaty body, exhausted. All around him animals collapsed, their sides heaving in labored breath. The forest rested in exhaustion, branches drooping, grasses slumped. With a final flutter of his eyelids, Goldeagle's vision faded to darkness.
~*~
Peturo was just relating an amusing tale of his recent visit to the waterfront pub, when Sicilian suddenly held up his hand, shushing him. A low thrumming sound warbled, just barely audible above the slap of the waves against the hull. The two men cast their eyes about in bewilderment, then Sicilian put his hand upon the hilt of Wulf Sword. It was vibrating.
"Peturo, ready a boat. Only one man could cause this. Goldeagle is in danger." Sicilian held up the sword, and closed his eyes.
Wordlessly, Peturo rushed to set a dinghy into the water.
Sicilian opened his eyes, and there before him, a small boat rounded the cliffs to the East. Pulling up his glass, Sicilian knew the seaman looked familiar, but could not place his name. While he was yet gazing through the glass, a bolt of lightning blasted the boat and man into a bloody haze that softly settled to the surface of the sea. He yanked the glass up and scanned the cliffs, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
The ship creaked as it listed with the wind, and the waves picked up into a chop. The trees at the top of the cliff leaned and resumed their constant susurration as the forest sounds returned to normal. Sicilian was oblivious to what all this could mean, but a premonition told him the answers lay across that distant cove.
He called for a dozen armed sailors to accompany himself and Peturo on the boat, and bade Godwin to remain and ready the ship in case there arose a need for her bigger guns.
Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 08
