The Bone King

Footsteps thundered down the hall, heavy as drumbeats. Her heart pounded the same tempo against her ribs. Eleanor didn't care about that, or that anyone might disapprove of her running like that.

When she burst into the royal chambers, Eleanor found her mother kneeling at the foot of the bed. The Queen was holding a large hand pale as marble. The King lay in the center of the bed and his chest, wrapped in bandages that were more red than white, barely rose.

“Father!” She rushed towards him, but the strong arms of her brother Aerinor surrounded her, holding her back. At his side, Aerinor carried a sword with a guard composed of two golden fish. Their father's sword. The sword that was said to come from the enchanted lake and always struck true. The one that only the King could wield and which had not prevented him from receiving a mortal wound.

With the King in that condition, Aerinor had to lead the army, and her mother would not leave her husband’s bedside. For her, however, there was no use.

Eleanor freed herself from her brother's grip and reached the bed. She took the sovereign's other hand and brought it to her lips. “Hold on, father. Hold on!”

I will find the cure.

˜*˜

“At the foot of the Misty Mountains lies an enchanted lake...” The crackling of the fire in the fireplace was the only accompaniment to the King's voice. His children, each seated on one of his knees, listened to him with wide eyes. “The waters of the lake have the power to heal any wound or illness. But it's not easy to get there. The lake is protected by the most fearsome warrior these lands have ever known: the Bone King.”

Little Eleanor held her breath. Her brother tried not to show it, but he too was terrified.

“The lake is encircled by what appears to be glistening white sand. But it is not, in fact, sand. It’s dust and bone fragments from all the enemies the Bone King has slain.”

˜*˜

Her chainmail was too long at her hips and, like her hauberk, it weighed like rocks. Eleanor ignored the pain and tiredness. She had traveled for three days, allowing herself nothing more than brief stops to reach the foot of the mountains. Every step was another sand grain in her father's hourglass, counting down towards Death.

Abandoning her horse, Eleanor continued on foot. In her childhood imagination the lake was surrounded by fine, very white sand. Instead, under her boots, whole bones were breaking and in some places the ground was still red with blood. Golden fish darted under the surface of the water, the same ones depicted on the hilt of her father's sword. It really came from there, then.

A pile of bones shifted and rose. No, not a pile; it was a very tall man. His head was covered by the upper part of an enormous skull that must have belonged to a giant. Two silver eyes shone in his dark sockets. He held a greatsword almost as long as she was tall.

The Bone King.

When he spoke, his voice was hollow and hoarse with disuse: “Who may you be, knight, arriving in the dead of the night without introducing yourself?”

She took off her helmet and her long red hair rained down on her shoulders. “I am Princess Eleanor, my liege Bone. Forgive the rudeness, time is the tyrant behind my actions. I need the sacred water.”

The protector of the lake limped towards her. “Like all those who come here. But the water is not for everyone.”

“You are injured. Why don't you drink from the lake?”

“Only those who do not ask for themselves can collect the water. I will be tied here until the wound is healed. And the wounds inflicted by the gods do not heal.” The Bone King planted the greatsword on the ground and placed both palms on the pommel. “It's the price I pay for stealing from the lake many centuries ago.”

“Then let me collect the water, because I come for my father, who is close to death, not for myself. Let me get the water and I will return to free you, my liege.”

“Take it, Princess Eleanor, because you come for the right reasons. As for me, no one can help me.” His voice boomed. “But I will not forget your name or your face.”

˜*˜

It was dawn on the sixth day when she arrived at the castle. The Queen had succumbed to tiredness and was sleeping curled up next to her husband, on top of the blankets. Eleanor draped her cloak over her mother. Then she put a hand under the back of her father's neck, parted his dry lips and let the water drip into his mouth, drop by drop.

When the King regained consciousness, perfectly healed, she was already far away.

˜*˜

“You're back”.

Eleanor collapsed to her knees, exhausted. “I have come to bother you again for water, my liege”.

“Who's hurt, this time?”

“You, my liege.”

The princess filled a waterskin and handed it to the warrior. The Bone King grasped it with trembling hands. After a moment of hesitation, he drank in long gulps. Immediately his posture straightened and he appeared even taller.

“You are free, my liege.”

He shook his head. “The lake cannot remain without a protector”.

“That's why I'll stay.”

The Bone King looked at her with his hard silver eyes. “Are you certain?”

“I am”.

The warrior smiled. “I will not forget your name or your face.” Then he began to dissolve like fog. The waterskin fell to the ground, followed by the giant skull. At the foot of the lake, where the Bone King had stood, only the arch of a rainbow remained.