Hero?

 “Hold.” Maximus' voice rang out and echoed down the cave. “Bring up the rangers.”

Two burly, black bearded men moved forward. They cautiously approached the wide stairs and examined them for traps. Mary Anesh accompanied them, one step behind, providing her mage light.

Ewol peered down the dark expanse, watching as the men disarmed an explosive series of traps. They'd traveled treacherous mountain terrain for two months to find this place.

It was amazing to watch them work. Ewol wanted to be like them. To protect Prince Maximus, the Hero, could there be anything greater?

He wondered if he wasn't just a mistake. The adventure had been amazing. It came with challenges, such as sleeping on the ground at night, and the hundreds of miles of travel. But Maximus had led them. He told stories during the day and played the lute and sang songs at night.

Ewol had been an indentured apprentice in the kitchen. He'd struggled, spilling broth or dropping food, and the head cook would strike him with a cast iron pan. Ewol had volunteered to go when no one else would. The head cook was all too happy to send him.

“We've finished, Sire,” The ranger called.

“Indeed. Maybe it's a fresh coat of paint the skeleton lords put on to welcome us.”

Ewol froze as the men marched past. He'd forgotten about that. Legend had it the treasure they sought was kept by two skeleton rulers who killed anyone who tried to enter.

Their group of warriors and mages, dressed in the royal green and silver, navigated the terrain slowly.

As the group reached the bottom they stopped in a cluster. A large chamber with vaulted ceilings opened to an ornately decorated wall with crenelations, columns, and arches.

In the center, a double door rose four stories high. The mages were working to open it. Embedded in the door, jewels sparkled in the mage's light. One of the rangers pried a jewel free and brought it to the Prince.

“It looks like we didn't come all this way for nothing!” Maximus chuckled and returned the jewel. “Finders keeper.”

Ewol watched quietly, stunned by what he saw. Maximus had just held a stone that could have been the crown jewel in a king's crown, and he handed it back to the man who had found it. Is that what heroes did? His mind swam with fantasies where the Hero ruled and no one was a slave or an orphan, there was food for everyone, and the world was joyous and content.

“My warriors, we've had an easy journey, but behind these doors lies an evil that will challenge us like never before. Hold steady and we will be victorious!”

Ewol raised his arm in cheer with the rest of the warriors. He drank in their enthusiasm like an intoxicating wine. He was in company of the greatest fighters in all the lands. What could go wrong?

He wanted to be like them, but he didn't have a sword. He only had a cast iron pan. He knew how much it could hurt.

“My lord, spell on the door has been broken.” Mary Anesh approached him. “It will open at your command.”

Ewol watched as Maximus took Mary Anesh and kissed her.

“I will find you a sapphire worthy of your love,” he purred.

“My Prince.” she blushed.

Maximus gave a wolfish grin and led the party to the door.

“Open! And show us your treasure!” he said, raising his elven blade high.

A blue shimmer went over the doors as dust and pebbles cascaded down from them as they opened. The metal whined and screeched with the cacophony of tortured souls as the ancient hinges moved.

Ewol sensed there was something in the air. A tang of something which smelled like the cutlery closet where all the silverware and golden goblets were kept. Only this was much richer.

“Mages,” Maximus ordered.

The magic workers moved slowly forward, projecting their glowing orbs forward. The group followed, stepping past the threshold.

“Would you look at that.” Maximus paused. “The tiles...they're gold.”

Ewol knelt to touch the floor. It was cool to the touch, but it shown like the burning sun against the clouds at sunset.

A cathedral of gold stretched before them, the peaked sections held by gold pillars with chandeliers hanging in the centers. Each vase which ringed the pillars—spilling with coins—was gold. Heaps of ingots, chalices, scepters, swords, and shields lay before them. All of it, made from the precious yellow metal. The light played off the items in a mesmerizing swirl of hues. Chariots of gold drawn by golden horses lined the sides, creating a long parade to the center of the cathedral.

Ewol couldn't believe what he was seeing. There was enough gold here to make everyone a King or Queen! There would never be hunger or poverty again! He wanted to pick up armfuls of gold and fill his pockets.

But the Hero didn't even look at the wealth, neither did his men. They steadily moved forward, eyes ahead, weapons ready.

Ewol forced himself to pull his eyes away and follow. As they marched, he noticed other, smaller branches of the cathedral leading off, each glimmering with gold.

They carried on, the line of chariots ended and tall statues of men and women took their place. It seemed someone had replicated the gods, each holding gem encrusted goblets spilling over with gold coins.

The structure opened to a grand hall, its tall ceiling fading to darkness. The floor changed to a white marble with veins of gold. The statues formed a ring around the grand hall, and in it's center, two gold thrones facing each other. Two shadowy figures sitting on them.

Maximus called them to a halt.

“I want to draw them out, force them to fight us among the statues.”

“I agree, My Liege,” Mary Anesh said.

The men separated and Ewol found himself standing with the Hero.

“Ah, cook, you're still here.” Maximus smiled. “You afraid?”

Ewol considered his statement for a moment. He had felt scared, but was too embarrassed to say anything. He had seen all the others and their lack of any fear. Not one of them had expressed concern or worry. How could he be here if he was the only one to say he was afraid. He had decided to keep his thoughts to himself. Besides, he was surrounded by the Hero's company. What did he have to worry about?

“I have been afraid, but I'm with you.”

“A true man feels fear, but doesn't let it control him,” Maximus said, glancing at the pan. “Besides, with that pan, you'll crush anything that gets in our way.”

He slapped Ewol on the shoulder with a laugh.

“Let's move into position,” Maximus said as he ran to join the group on the left.

They formed two wedges and quietly moved towards the thrones. As one, the mages threw their magic up to light the chandeliers.

Two skeletons, a king and a queen, sat in black robes on the daises. A simple crystal bowl with water sat between them.

“It's them,” Mary Anesh said. “Dead a long time. Two souls entombed in their greed.”

Ewol didn't know what they meant. Was the phrase 'skeleton lord' more of a title?

“If they are dead, our work here is done. We can return and report to my father.”

A sharp click echoed in the chamber.

“It seems we have guests, my dear.” A man's voice, clear and melodic, sounded from the throne.

“We need to greet them, my love,” a woman's voice followed.

The skeletons arose, nearly soundless, drawing swords from the sides of the thrones.

“Fall back!” Maximus ordered.

Ewol scrambled and nearly fell down as the warriors scrambled to evacuate. He glanced back to see two skeletal frames, twenty feet tall, shadows for eyes, arms bare bones, striding towards them.

By the gods! How could they even move?

Ewol threw himself into keeping up with the soldiers and archers. Mary Anesh led the group he was with and they sped into position within the statues and piles of gold.

The warriors formed up, creating a barrier wall of twenty shields. Behind it the archers drew and fired their bolts. Their attacker raised his shield and blocked the shots, advancing slowly.

“Change targets!” Mary Anesh commanded as she cast a spell on the arrows.

The tips ignited with orange flame and the archers sent shots across the skeleton's body. Many of them pierced the robes but were extinguished.

“I haven't seen that spell in a while.” The skeleton mocked as it plucked one like a toothpick and pinched it out.

Ewol cried out as it charged at them, kicking at the row of shields. Two men went down, stunned. The others pushed in to reform the wall but the skeleton lord made a swift slash down, cutting through the top of the shield, into the warrior's chest. He dropped dead.

“I'm looking forward to this, aren't you my dear?” the skeleton called out.

Ewol glanced to the other side and saw the Hero in full retreat as the skeleton queen slashed and hacked mercilessly.

“To have your eyes feast upon my beautiful body again, it's all I've wanted for a hundred years, my love.”

Ewol sensed something was wrong. Their weapons were doing nothing. The men were hacking away and it only produced sparks against the bony legs of the skeleton that attacked them. The arrows were useless and Mary Anesh's spells weren't affecting him. But he couldn't find his voice. He couldn't tell the Hero and his group to fall back, to retreat outside. In his heart, that's not something a hero would do.

Another warrior fell as the line of swordsmrn dwindled.

“Maximus!” Mary Anesh cried out.

But he was too busy protecting what remained of his men, swinging the elven sword its silvery metal sang as it deflected the skeleton queen's attack. He fought with a determination and grace that only a hero could fight with.

“To the door, we'll regroup there!” Mary Anesh commanded.

But the Skeleton Lord didn't stop his relentless attack. He lunged forward in an attempt to step past the warriors and take out their mage. Ewol saw what he was doing. Using the pan he scooped up a pile of gold coins and flung it under their attacker's feet. The skeleton lord slipped and fell with a thudding of bones.

“Now, m'lady. Run!” Ewol hissed as he grabbed her and pulled her away.

He knew the fight was lost. They needed a different approach, a new way to deal with them. They'd have to come up with it once they were safe. He needed to get them out.

Mary Anesh cast a spell behind her as they fled, sending a torrent of wind to push the skeleton back. The few men followed.

Ewol pulled her to the middle, away from the chariots, statues, and piles of gold that could block their way. A few strides behind them, the Hero appeared, his face bloodied, his armor dented and scratched. He led the handful of survivors in a wedge formation, holding off the strokes and stabs from the Skeleton Queen.

The others joined them in a group, as the skeleton lord strode out and, standing side by side with his partner, harried their retreat. Taking down a warrior from time to time, thinning the lines.

The door!

Ewol pulled the mage towards the door, it was only a hundred yards away. If they ran, they could escape. The Hero would certainly follow. He could fight another day.

“Maximus!” Mary Anesh cried out and broke out of Ewol's grip.

She ran to join them.

Uttering a spell she touched his sword with her staff, and the elven blade glowed with blue fire.

Maximus leaped forward in an unexpected attack and cut the skeleton queen's blade in half.

In a blur, the skeleton lord kicked Maximus in the chest, sending him flying, the sword bouncing away. The men, shocked at the loss of their leader, quickly fell.

“Well, that was intense.” the skeleton lord said as he slowly strode past the bodies of the warriors, to where Mary Anesh held Maximus.

Ewol stood frozen, his chest clenched in horror. This was not supposed to happen! The Hero was supposed to triumph. They were supposed to return home in glory.

“Which one should use as messenger?” The skeleton lord asked.

“That one.” The skeleton queen pointed at Ewol. “This one, she's broken.”

She shoved her sword through Mary Anesh's chest. She toppled over.

“I can't wait,” the skeleton lord said as he picked up Maximus and the others, hauling them back to the center of the cathedral. Putting one foot in the water of the crystal bowl, he put the hero to his mouth. Maximus' body changed to a flurry of sparkling white dust which flowed down the skeletons throat, through his chest, and to his feet. Immediately his muscles and flesh grew back, until a complete man appeared.

Ewol watched in horror as the queen did the same with Mary Anesh.

The giants consumed more of the warriors.

If it hadn't been for what he'd just witnessed, he would have seen the beauty of the two rulers that stood before him.

“Ah, it's good to be reborn.”

“Shall we gather the others?”

“They can wait,” the skeleton lord said with a mischievous grin as he grabbed her hand. “Oh wait, the messenger.”

Ewol wanted to run, but he couldn't as the giant stepped over and pointed his sword at him.

“Go, tell the others of the gold you see here, and the challenge that awaits them.”

The giant turned away.

“Is that enough?” the Queen asked.

“They always come back in a hundred years or so,” the King answered.

Ewol couldn't move. His feet felt like they were cemented to the ground. He fell to his knees, sobbing.

Why! Why couldn't I help you, Hero!

His hand touched something and he found the elven blade, still glowing.

Something took over him. An anger that sprang from the hope that no longer could live in his bosom. A raging fury that the Hero was dead and that all their dreams were gone. He was commanded to go back and tell the King what had happened.

But he wasn't going to do that.

He'd seen the center of the circle, where the skeletons had stood to consume the bodies.

The two giants had just finished absorbing all the others and were walking away.

Ewol forced himself to stand. He wasn't going to do nothing. The call of the Heor had been his and he wasn't going to leave. An instinct touched his mind, he should strike back. He took the sword and rushed to the middle.

“Wait, what is he doing?” the Skeleton Queen called out.

“Stop!” The skeleton King lunged.

Ewol summoned all his strength, hoping it would be enough, and slammed the sword into the crystal at his feet.

It shattered, the water instantly evaporated, sending a groan through the cathedral. The pillars buckled and contorted as the two giants screamed in fierce anger.

Ewol tried to pull the sword free but it wouldn't budge. He tried again and again before jumping away and grabbing his pan. But the giants didn't attack, their supple bodies reduced to bones, had crumpled and broken, scattering to the floor.

Ewol fell to his knees, tears pushing their way out, as he found himself alone. Maximus and Mary Anesh were gone, he'd never hear a compliment from them again. He'd never see them smile at him when they ate his food or play the lute to bring everyone together with song. They had failed, and he was the only one left to bring the story back. He couldn't bear the thought of telling the King, or anyone else for that matter.

Guilt swept over him, smothering him like a wave of stampeding horses. His hope was left crushed.

He scooped up a pan of the gold. For a moment he stared at it. His happiness felt sick and horrible in his mouth, like cold bile licked off the floor. He hated the gold. It didn't make him feel good anymore.

Turning the pan over, he dumped out the contents and made his way out of the cathedral.

At the doorway he paused. The mage and rangers had disarmed some traps. But that was to stop someone from coming in.

He rearmed them, each one, before running for the exit. The explosions followed him, stinging him with bits of granite shrapnel and showering him with dust. The cave collapsed with rocks the size of houses covering everything. He didn't stop running until he reached the wagons.

Ewol sat alone for three days, mourning. Missing the friendship, the self worth he'd found accompanying the hero. He barely ate, and slept in fits. On the fourth day he placed his pan next to the fire pit and left, vowing that no hero in the future would die, searching for the gold that cost him everything.