“Why indeed?’ answered the spirit.
‘I did not know the Daroth would come. You cannot blame me.’
‘I do not apportion blame, human. You were warned, and you chose to ignore the warning. Who would you blame? You are a student of history. You know the Eldarin do not lie.’
‘But I didn’t know! If you had told me about the Daroth I would have desisted.’
‘Would you?’
Sirano stayed silent. ‘Where did you go?’ he asked at last.
‘Where do you think? The Eldarin exist within the Pearl, held frozen, awaiting the Day of Awakening. Just as we did with the Daroth. You loosed the chains that held the Daroth captive. But only one living man can free the Eldarin.’
‘Tell me what to do, I beg of you! Advise me!’
The Eldarin shook his head. ‘The situation is beyond my advice, Sirano. As of tomorrow, Morgallis will be destroyed. Nothing you can do can save it, nor save the thousands who still inhabit it. Death and destruction are upon you, and I pity you and all who serve you. Now go from here. And do not return.’ The Eldarin waved his hand dismissively. Sirano felt a jolt, as if from a fall, and awoke again in his own bed. It was dark, and his body was cold. He crawled under the covers, shivering.
He lay there for half an hour, but as the sky lightened he pushed back the covers and moved to his study. From a large jar on the shelf above the window he took a dozen small glass balls, which he placed in a canvas bag. This he slung across his shoulder, and made his way down the stairs to the huge cellar beneath the great hall. There were hundreds of barrels here, scores containing lantern
oil, others filled with brandy or fortified wine. One by one he placed ten of the glass globes among the lantern oil barrels. Lastly he turned on the taps. There were no drains here, nowhere for the liquid to go save to slowly cover the stone floor.
Moving upstairs and out into the night, Sirano ran through the deserted streets, heading for the north wall.
Giriak was there, with around 40 bowmen and some 200 soldiers. Sirano ran up the steps. ‘Are they here?’ he asked.
‘They will be soon,’ said Giriak. ‘According to our scout there are thousands of them. They are not human, Sirano.’
The Duke ignored the lack of formality. ‘They are Daroth,’ he said. The men gathered around him began to whisper amongst themselves. ‘We cannot hold here,’ Sirano told Giriak. ‘The city is finished. Get your men back from the walls. Rouse as many of the citizens as you can, and try to reach Prentuis. Do it now!’
‘What are you going to do?’ Giriak asked.
‘I’ll stay and talk to them. Perhaps we can reach an agreement.’
‘You hired me and my men. If you wish us to stay and fight, we will.’
Sirano smiled, and clapped the warrior on the shoulder. ‘You are a good man, Giriak. You are all good men. Go now, and live!’
For a moment only Giriak stood his ground, then he swung away. ‘You heard the Lord Sirano. Let’s go!’ Gratefully the warriors left the walls, leaving Sirano alone.
The sky was lightening now, the bright stars fading into the grey. The dawn sun crept over the eastern mountains, bathing the city in gold. Sirano sat on the ramparts and gazed back over Morgallis. Some of the buildings were
ancient, built with love and care centuries before. This was his city. And he had destroyed it.
He hoped Giriak would rescue most of the city-dwellers, but knew that was unlikely. These last few thousand had endured earthquakes and war; they would not leave their homes. The lucky ones would die under the swords of the Daroth. The young and tender-faced a different fate.
Sirano was alone. Not a human in sight. Suddenly he realized he had always been alone. This moment before the storm epitomized his life. The child ignored by the man he thought was his father, had grown into a man apart. Incomplete. Unfinished.
And self-pitying, he realized . ..