Long Distance Call

Sparks danced among popping embers in the fireplace, as Peturo gently shook Sicilian's shoulder.  "M'Lord, Captain Godwin will be coming ashore shortly.  Shall I fetch us some coffee and breakfast?"

Sicilian nodded as he sat up.  "Aye, Peturo.  It's a good idea to be ready to board ship as soon as possible.  Keep a watchful eye on the tavern help though.  We don't know who might be listening in.  There is something in the air that doesn't feel right."

"Aye, Captain!"

As the door closed, Sicilian yawned and stretched, then quickly dressed, and searched through his trunk.  He found a folded silken cloth, pulled it from within, and carefully unwrapped it.  He stroked the rough leather pouch, his mind drifting back through time and memories.  His face sometimes reflected a half-smile sparked by camaraderie, as faces came and went in his mind.

A fight broke out in the tavern below him.  He heard curses and breaking glass, then a shot rang out.  He stepped to the door to have a look.  When he opened it, Peturo stood there with their breakfast, having just reached for the latch.  He was relieved to see him.

Sicilian found himself wishing Taylor Godwin would hurry.  There was too much room for complexity on land.  Right now, he longed for the simplicity of the open sea.

The feeling of ominous oppression continued to weigh heavily in the air.  Another fight broke out below them, this time with screams and clashing swords.  The air seemed to move about them with a life of its own.  Sicilian realized they needed to get out into the daylight... something was dreadfully wrong!  Not since the threat of the beast in the Kingdom of Sikstea, had there been danger like this.  Sicilian was uncertain of the reason, but there were warnings stirring in the depths of his subconscious mind.  "Get out!  Quickly!"  This was power he didn't understand.  He needed someone who would know what it was.  He could use the help of Goldeagle, Chief of the Wind Warriors!

He remembered standing with his tall friend, face to face, wrists clasped in the traditional warrior salute.  The words still lingered vividly in his mind's ear:  "If you ever need me, throw this medicine bag into the fire.  I will come!"  Now he knew it was no accident that had brought his hand to discover the pouch in his trunk, but it was necessity.

The fire flared red, and made a whoosh as the pouch hit the flames, then turned white, searing the brick with its intensity.  It quickly returned to normal, and there was no sign of the pouch.

The light in the room seemed to fade, then brighten again.  It was nothing really obvious, but it caused the small hairs to raise on the back of Sicilian's neck.  He threw another log on the fire, but the chill in his blood seemed to remain.

"Come on, Peturo,"  he said,  "let's go find Captain Godwin."

As they stepped into daylight, he was happy to feel the warmth of the sun.

Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 97