| Story |
 
|
(Page 1 of 3) Sir Tulley's Folley by Chris Mazzoli
 (3 ratings)
|
Sir Tulley stood before the cave's gaping maw. Fetid air belched forth washing over him, stealing his desire and fanning his fear. Tulley's beady black eyes swiveled and squinted as he looked up into the blue sky. The sun, a golden globe of warmth, sat pregnant in the sky, its rays beating down on his gleaming armor. Tulley wiped his brow with the back of a mailed fist, and turned his attention to the darkness that waited for him.
"Fortune was never won standing still," he muttered as he drew his long sword from its battered sheath with a silky sound of metal on metal. He took a deep breath, held it, and walked into his destiny. The darkness stole his sight, leaving him nothing but false glowing images against a black velvet backdrop. Blinking, he waited as the images faded from the back of his eyes, until all that remained was the void. Hesitant, he shuffled one foot before the other, inching his way deeper into the dark. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow only to roll down his nose, hang precariously, then fall onto his armor. His free hand tugged on his steel chest plate as heat fell on him like a blanket, smothering his breathing, restricting his movements.
Time flowed past on burning winds as he continued to inch his way along the debris strewn floor. Each step brought the sound of steel on stone, sending involuntary waves of fear through him. His left foot snagged a cleft in the floor, twisting his ankle, Tulley tripped and landed with a resounding crash. Darts of light flashed before his eyes as he rolled on to his stomach and whipped his head from left to right, checking the darkness for movement. Nothing. Scrambling to his feet, the sparks faded and the dim outline of rocks, boulders and stalagmites emerged.
Eyes straining, he made out a side passage that seemed a bit brighter than the rest of the cave. Resolute, he gripped his sword tight and set his course. The heat landed hammer blows on his shoulders as he reached its mouth. A slight breeze of scalding air flowed over him as he walked in. "Gods it's hot!" Tulley thought as he pulled a water skin from his hip, ripped off the stop and poured the warm water into his mouth. "I wish I brought something stronger than this!" he thought, as he removed his helm and doused his head with the last of the precious liquid.
"I will save the princess. I, Sir Tulley, will succeed where others have failed," he muttered as he crushed the skin and threw it to the ground. Putting his helmet back on, he strode forward. "Though I have not seen the woman, I have heard that she is a fair wench. Her skin the palest of alabaster. Her hair, the color of the sun I left behind, and her eyes! Those eyes of deepest sapphire, the kind that a knight could lose himself in for a lifetime! She, a walking piece of art, holds all the fame and fortune I could ever want ... all I need to do is save her from the hell spawned dragon that has imprisoned her for so long." Tulley's words rang in his head as he moved on.
He wound his way down the side passage, moving cautiously, but with determination.
| |
