Nah-ee-lah covered her eyes with her hands. “My poor people!” she cried. “My poor people!” And far below her, by the thousands now, they were hurling themselves into eternity, while above them the screaming Kalkars hurled hand grenades among them and drove the remaining inhabitants of Laythe, terrace by terrace, down toward the crater’s rim.
Nah-ee-lah turned away. “Come, Julian,” she said, “I cannot look, I cannot look.” And together we walked across the terrace to the outer side of the city.
Almost directly beneath us upon the next terrace was a palace gate and as we reached a point where we could see it, I was horrified to see that the Kalkars had made their way up the outer terraces to the very palace walls. The Jemadar’s guard was standing there ready to defend the palace against the invaders. The great stone gates would have held indefinitely against spears and swords, but even the guardsmen must have guessed that their doom was already sealed and that these gates, that had stood for ages, an ample protection to the Jemadars of Laythe, were about to fall, as the Kalkars halted fifty yards away, and from their ranks a single individual stepped forth a few paces.
As my eyes alighted upon him I seized Nah-ee-lah’s arm. “Orthis!” I cried. “It is Orthis.” At the same instant the man’s eyes rose above the gates and fell upon us. A nasty leer curled his lips as he recognized us.
“I come to claim my bride,” he cried, in a voice that reached us easily, “and to balance my account with you, at last,” and he pointed a finger at me.
In his right hand he held a large, cylindrical object, and as he ceased speaking he hurled it at the gates precisely as a baseball pitcher pitches a swift ball.
The missile struck squarely at the bottom of the gates. There was a terrific explosion, and the great stone portals crumbled, shattered into a thousand fragments. The last defense of the Empress of Laythe had fallen, and with it there went down in bloody death at least half the remaining members of her loyal guard.
Instantly the Kalkars rushed forward, hurling hand grenades among the survivors of the guard.
Nah-ee-lah turned toward me and put her arms about my neck.
“Kiss me once more, Julian,” she said, “and then the dagger.”