"Come out!" the figure cried from the hill. "Come out and face your doom, for I will accept no other recompense."

The king shuddered in his hall and sent forth his champion to do battle.

"Come out!" the figure cried again, "Your fate cannot be passed to another."

The king sent out his picked men, next, and they went happily. They had never known defeat at his orders, and if his temper had brought him to (and past) the edge of brutality, they were richer men for it.

"Come out!" the figure cried. "No army will save you, no other will come to your aid."

The king remembered his youth, and his hand felt strong as it grasped the hilt on the wall. But his arm felt week when he lifted.

The figure was no longer on the hill, but there were screams outside. Then the gate flew open, and a shadow filled the hall.