Ben shook his head resignedly. He had been awake since shortly after midnight, anticipating the arrival of this first destroyer. He was not tired, not even weary, only sad. He would be forced to fight this creature, whoever and whatever it was, and probably would destroy it. He would do so as his alter ego, the Paladin, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he would still be the one doing the fighting and perhaps the killing. It wouldn’t change the necessity of his transformation into the iron-clad warrior who protected the Kings of Landover, a transformation he feared and despised, because each time it happened a little more of him slipped away into the abyss of dark madness that shrouded the life of the Paladin. Warrior and knight-errant, protector and champion, the Paladin was before all things a destroyer to which no sane man could ever wish to be joined. But Ben Holiday was. And would forever be from now until the end.
But I made that choice when I gave up my old life for this new one, he chided himself. The decision was mine.
“Perhaps we can simply ignore him,” Willow said quietly. Ben looked over at her, but she kept her eyes focused on the giant. “If we keep him locked outside the gates, what can he do? He might grow weary of his vigil. Time favors you, Ben. Let him be.”
Ben thought it over. He could do that. He could leave the giant where he was and see what happened. It wasn’t a bad idea, though it would inconvenience those who might wish to enter or leave the castle. But it did nothing to enhance his image as King. It left him a prisoner in his own palace.
“He has made no demands?” Ben asked Bunion, still weighing the possibilities.
The kobold chittered softly. No, the giant had not spoken.
“Well.” Ben tightened his mouth. “We’ll let him wait a bit. A little breakfast first, now that we know he’s here. Then we’ll see.”
He started to turn away, and abruptly the giant’s arm lifted and pointed directly at him. There was no mistaking the gesture. Do not turn away, it said. Do not turn your back on me.
Ben wheeled about and came back to the wall. The giant’s arm lowered, and he resumed waiting, one hand resting on his belted waist, the other on the butt of his massive club. The strange eyes glinted. The huge figure looked to be carved of stone.
“It appears he does not approve of your idea, Willow,” Ben murmured, feeling her hand close over his. He could tell what she was thinking: Be careful. Do not rise to his goading. Do not be drawn into this fight until you are ready.
She did not say to him, “Do not go.” She knew he must. She knew he could not avoid this confrontation or any of those which must follow if they were to see Mistaya alive again. She hated the situation as much as he did, but they had understood from the moment of Rydall’s coming with the news of their missing daughter that they were trapped in this deadly game and that somehow they must find a way to win.
“What is his strength?” she asked suddenly, indicating the giant with an irritated wave of her hand. “He is large and strong, but he is no match for the Paladin. Why has he been sent?”
Ben had been wondering that, too. The Paladin was better armed and protected. How could the giant hope to defeat him?
At his side Bunion chittered softly. He wanted to go down and test the giant’s strength, to see what his edge might be, to probe for his weakness. Ben shook his head. He would risk no one but himself in this struggle with Rydall. Not when the lives of Mistaya, Abernathy, and Questor were at risk already.
“He forbids us to leave the wall,” he said finally. “What will happen if we disobey? Perhaps we should see. Bunion, stay put and keep watch for us.”
Keeping tight hold of Willow’s hand, he turned from the wall and walked over to the open stairs that wound downward about the watch house to the courtyard below. He was barely to the first step when he heard Bunion hiss in warning.