As we stood watching the flames we suddenly saw people emerging in great
numbers upon several of the lower terraces. They were evidently in
terrified flight, and then others appeared upon terraces above
them—Kalkars who hurled hand grenades amongst the Laytheans beneath
them. Men, women, and children ran hither and thither, shrieking and
crying and seeking for shelter, but from the buildings behind them,
rushing them outward upon the terraces, came other Kalkars with hand
grenades. The fires hemmed the people of Laythe upon either side and the
Kalkars attacked them from the rear and from above. The weaker fell and
were trodden to death, and I saw scores fall upon their own lances or
drive daggers into the hearts of their loved ones.
The massacre spread rapidly around the circumference of the city and the
Kalkars drove the people from the upper terraces downward between the
raging fires which were increasing until the mouth of the great crater
was filled with roaring flames and smoke. In the occasional gaps we
could catch glimpses of the holocaust beneath us.
A sudden current of air rising from the crater lifted the smoke pall
high for a moment, revealing the entire circumference of the crater, the
edge of which was crowded with Laytheans. And then I saw a warrior from
the opposite side leap upon the surrounding wall that bordered the lower
terrace at the edge of the yawning crater. He turned and called aloud
some message to his fellows, and then wheeling, threw his arms above his
head and leaped outward into the yawning, bottomless abyss. Instantly
the others seemed to be inoculated with the infection of his mad act. A
dozen men leaped to the wall and dove head foremost into the crater. The
thing spread slowly at first, and then with the rapidity of a prairie
fire, it ran around the entire circle of the city. Women hurled their
children in and then leaped after them. The multitude fought one with
another for a place upon the wall from which they might cast themselves
to death. It was a terrible—an awe-inspiring sight.
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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