Stephen Baxter
Dreamer
"Here is another short story I've been writing these days"
(The Song of the Hollow King)
I. The Crown of Bone
The Hollow King does not sleep.
For a thousand years, he has sat upon his throne of petrified roots, his fingers curled around the armrests, his crown of bone pressing against his brow. The people of Eldmere do not speak his name aloud, for fear he will hear them across the windswept moors.
He does not age. He does not die.
But tonight, the silence of his hall is broken.
Footsteps echo on the marble floor as a girl enters the throne room. Her cloak is frayed, her boots muddied from the long journey. In her arms, she carries a lyre of blackened silver.
She kneels before him. "My king."
The Hollow King's eyes open, twin stars burning within a skull of obsidian. Dust falls from his shoulders as he shifts, his voice like the whisper of leaves.
"You have come to sing," he says.
The girl nods, her fingers tightening on the lyre. "A song to end the curse."
He watches her, silent, waiting.
The Hollow King has seen many come before her. They all believed they could break the spell. Warriors wielding blades of enchanted steel, scholars armed with forgotten incantations.
None had succeeded.
But the girl does not bring a sword. She brings music.
And music, he remembers.
II. The Song
She takes a breath and plucks the first note. It shivers through the air like the call of something long buried. The Hollow King’s fingers twitch. The roots of his throne creak.
She sings of the world beyond these walls.
Of golden fields in autumn light. Of rivers laughing over smooth stone. Of wind that smells of the sea.
And he remembers.
The sound of laughter before war took it away. The warmth of the sun before he was bound in darkness. A name, his name, before he was only this.
The crown on his head fractures. The air shudders.
She sings of sorrow, of a promise made in the dying breath of a friend. The spell, the price, the cost of a thousand years.
The Hollow King bows his head. "I remember."
The final note trembles in the air. The girl lowers the lyre, breathless.
Silence.
Then
The Hollow King rises. The roots of his throne crumble. The darkness in his bones cracks like ice. He reaches up, grasping the cursed crown
And removes it.
A gust of wind rushes through the hall, carrying away the dust, the time, the curse. The shadows in his eyes fade.
He exhales.
He is no longer hollow.
III. The Aftermath
The people of Eldmere wake to a sky that feels lighter, to the absence of a name that once haunted their prayers. The Hollow King is gone.
In his place stands a man.
The girl looks at him, uncertain. "What happens now?"
He smiles.
"Now, I live."
Question for Readers:
If you were the girl, would you have
risked facing the Hollow King with only a song? Or would you have chosen another path?
(The Song of the Hollow King)
I. The Crown of Bone
The Hollow King does not sleep.
For a thousand years, he has sat upon his throne of petrified roots, his fingers curled around the armrests, his crown of bone pressing against his brow. The people of Eldmere do not speak his name aloud, for fear he will hear them across the windswept moors.
He does not age. He does not die.
But tonight, the silence of his hall is broken.
Footsteps echo on the marble floor as a girl enters the throne room. Her cloak is frayed, her boots muddied from the long journey. In her arms, she carries a lyre of blackened silver.
She kneels before him. "My king."
The Hollow King's eyes open, twin stars burning within a skull of obsidian. Dust falls from his shoulders as he shifts, his voice like the whisper of leaves.
"You have come to sing," he says.
The girl nods, her fingers tightening on the lyre. "A song to end the curse."
He watches her, silent, waiting.
The Hollow King has seen many come before her. They all believed they could break the spell. Warriors wielding blades of enchanted steel, scholars armed with forgotten incantations.
None had succeeded.
But the girl does not bring a sword. She brings music.
And music, he remembers.
II. The Song
She takes a breath and plucks the first note. It shivers through the air like the call of something long buried. The Hollow King’s fingers twitch. The roots of his throne creak.
She sings of the world beyond these walls.
Of golden fields in autumn light. Of rivers laughing over smooth stone. Of wind that smells of the sea.
And he remembers.
The sound of laughter before war took it away. The warmth of the sun before he was bound in darkness. A name, his name, before he was only this.
The crown on his head fractures. The air shudders.
She sings of sorrow, of a promise made in the dying breath of a friend. The spell, the price, the cost of a thousand years.
The Hollow King bows his head. "I remember."
The final note trembles in the air. The girl lowers the lyre, breathless.
Silence.
Then
The Hollow King rises. The roots of his throne crumble. The darkness in his bones cracks like ice. He reaches up, grasping the cursed crown
And removes it.
A gust of wind rushes through the hall, carrying away the dust, the time, the curse. The shadows in his eyes fade.
He exhales.
He is no longer hollow.
III. The Aftermath
The people of Eldmere wake to a sky that feels lighter, to the absence of a name that once haunted their prayers. The Hollow King is gone.
In his place stands a man.
The girl looks at him, uncertain. "What happens now?"
He smiles.
"Now, I live."
Question for Readers:
If you were the girl, would you have
risked facing the Hollow King with only a song? Or would you have chosen another path?
Troubadour
