He closed his eyes and let the musty smell of the ages-old ruins fill his senses. A beautiful courtyard appeared before his eyes: knights in shining armor, sinewy war-horses adorned with battle garments, tall towers rising above the thick, stone walls. The terrifying image of the Castle of Count Cabron loomed in front of Jim, threatening to crush his insignificant form with its shear size and history. Once, possibly hundreds of years ago, this had been a mighty castle. Now all that was left was a pile of ruins and grass-covered paths.
Jim shifted his weight uneasily on the powerful steed he had been gifted with by the cursed villagers. Riding a horse had proved much more difficult than he first imagined. His legs had been rubbed raw in just the few days of riding that he and Deanna had accomplished, and the horse, sensing his apprehension, complicated matters whenever possible by choosing the worst possible path to follow. As much as he hated to admit it, Jim’s inexperience was slowing their journey down. He was beginning to wonder why he even took on this ‘quest’, if that’s what you could call it. In truth, Jim knew nothing of magic and exciting adventures. If it weren’t for Deanna helping him - cooking food at night, taking care of the horses, warning him of the dangers of the land, and acting as guide - he would never had made past the first day’s ride. At night, Jim would listen to Deanna’s wild tales of fantasy, about the Hero of Legends that would one day destroy the evil wizard Dekalamon. Jim wondered if he could ever become such a hero.
And what was a hero, anyway? Jim’s mind answered the question rhetorically, Don’t you know? Heroes rescue damsels in distress. But was Deanna really a damsel? The thought stuck in Jim’s head every time he looked upon the cursed form of Deanna. She had been an appealing female once, perhaps even attractive. At night, Jim would catch glimpses (through her cloth undershirt) of a small, flat chest and dark, pointed nipples, as she polished and sharpened the heavy broadsword that she wore across her back during the day. (And even though he had not seen it, Jim was sure that she knew how to use the massive weapon with deadly accuracy.) But now, in her heavy chainmail armor and thick leather boots, she looked more like a man than Jim did. Glancing down at his own leather armor and small short-sword, Jim realized that, ironically, he looked more like a ‘damsel’ than Deanna did.
What kind of relationship did he have with her anyway? She was a very serious woman, probably because of the curse inflicted on her people. But despite her nature, Jim found that she also was very humble (although it could be mistaken for naïve innocence). She seemed stubbornly determined that Jim was the prophesied Hero of Legends. And even after discovering Jim’s poor riding and weapon skills, she never even once voiced her disappointment. Jim knew that Deanna had suggested the detour through the ruins of the Castle of Count Cabron in hopes of ‘toughening’ him up.
And so that’s where they were now – the fallen Castle of Count Cabron. Shortly after exploring the ruins, they had come upon a lone soul by the name of Josiah, still living within the broken walls of stone and rubble. Deanna had questioned the man at some length, but Jim only understood small bits of the man’s confusing speech. He spoke in riddles, and Jim knew not whether he was the last remaining knight of the long-deceased people of Cabron or a drunken fool with delusions of grandeur. The shady figure admitted he had could not leave the fallen ruins, but at the mere mention of the name Dekalamon he became enraged and demanded to join Jim and Deanna on their quest to destroy the evil wizard.
Jim didn’t know whether it was out of respect or merely for appearance, but Deanna had left the decision up to him as to what they were to do...
Fri Sep 24 05:20:06 1999
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