Tarantio had asked him if he wanted to die. Oh, yes, he thought. I can think of no greater relief than to fall into darkness.
Slowly he made his way out into the corridor, then along it and through a series of rooms until he came to a narrow staircase. He had last been here ten years ago, when he had endowed the monastery with a gift of gold. Then he had wandered the place and marvelled at the labyrinthine design. The large hall where now the Daroth would be feeding was on the lower level, but above and around it was a gallery. Sirano recalled his visit, trying to remember the routes through the monastery. Descending the stairs he cut left, then padded through a long library, checking his bearings by peering out of a window. Now he knew where he was. Down two more flights of stairs, and along another corridor he paused at the last door. Taking a deep breath, he eased it open and slipped through to the gallery. Smoke was swirling around the rafters and he could smell the sweet, sickly scent of roasting flesh. Glancing over the rail, he saw the Daroth below. They had torn up the slabs of the floor and broken them to form a low wall around a carefully fashioned cooking area. Red-hot charcoal burned within it and a body was spitted over it. There were bloody bones scattered around the floor, and most of the Daroth were sitting well back from the fire, eating in silence. Two others were standing by the open door, overlooking the gates.
Sirano dipped his hand into the bag he carried, pulling forth a bottle. Then he strode into view. 'I was asking myself,' he said in a loud voice, 'whether the Daroth could be considered to be evil. Do you see yourselves as evil?'
Heat and pain roared into his mind and he staggered. He thought he had been prepared for the mental onslaught, but it had come so swiftly he had no time to fight it. He did so now, summoning a masking spell which flowed through his mind like a cooling stream. 'Have none of you the wit to offer me an answer?' he called.
'We came for you, Sirano,' said a deep voice. He could not, at first, identify the speaker.
'And you have found me. Now answer the question. Are you evil?'
The two Daroth by the door had moved inside. Sirano scanned the group. Two were now missing. A towering Daroth warrior moved closer, carefully avoiding the fire. 'The word has little meaning for us, human. We are Daroth. We are one. There is nothing else of importance under the stars. Survival is the ultimate goal. What is good enables us to survive and to continue. What is evil threatens that survival.'
'How did the Oltor threaten you? I thought that they saved you.'
'They sought to deny us land. They closed the gateways to our own world.'
'And the Eldarin?'
'We will not coexist,' said the Daroth. 'Their magic was strong. They could have . . . troubled us.'
'So!' shouted Sirano. 'It was fear that prompted you.'
'We fear nothing!' declared the Daroth, his voice rising.
The gallery door swept open and a huge Daroth warrior surged inside. Sirano spun and let fly with the bottle, which burst on the warrior's chest. Flames spewed out to envelop the enormous white head, and a terrifying scream sounded. Fire consumed the towering figure, and the air was filled with black smoke. The Daroth crashed back into the door, then fell to his knees, his body flaring like a great torch. Blue flames hissed from him, and the heat was incredible. Pulling another bottle clear, Sirano swung towards the second door. As it opened he hurled the bottle - but it exploded harmlessly against the far wall. Climbing over the gallery rail, Sirano leapt to a ledge on one of the ten wooden pillars supporting the ceiling.
'You fear extinction!' he shouted. 'Your lives are ruled by terror! That is why you cannot coexist. You believe that every race is as vile and self-centred as your own. And this time you are right. We will destroy you! We will hunt you down and wipe your grotesque species from the face of the earth!'
Three Daroth moved out onto the gallery. Sirano hurled another bottle, but they dived back and it too exploded without harm to the warriors. From his vantage point on the column, he saw the figures of Tarantio and Duvodas make the dash across open ground to the gates.
A hurled spear smashed through Sirano's belly, pinning him to the pillar. Pain engulfed him, blood spraying from his mouth as he sagged down against the spear.
'You pose no threat to us!' sneered the Daroth leader. 'Your pitiful race is weak and spineless. Your weapons are useless against us. We have crushed your armies, and destroyed two of your greatest cities. Nothing that lives can stand against us.'
Loosing the bag from his shoulder Sirano, with the last ounce of his strength, tossed it into the fire. It erupted with a tremendous explosion that hurled several Daroth from their feet, engulfing two of them in flames.
A second spear slammed into Sirano's chest. And with it came the gift he sought above all others.
Darkness.
As Duvodas entered the tavern Shira ran to meet him, throwing her arms around his neck. 'I was so frightened,' she said. 'I thought you had left me.' He hugged her close and kissed her cheek.
'Never! I will never leave you again.' His fingers stroked through her long dark hair, and her face tilted up towards him. Tenderly he kissed her lips, then eased free of her embrace and sat beside the fire. Her father, Ceofrin, ambled forward and patted Duvo's shoulder.
'You look exhausted, man. I'll get some food for you.' Ceofrin moved to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of porridge and a container filled with honey. It remained untouched.
'What happened? Did you find it?' asked Shira. Duvodas opened the canvas pouch and removed the Pearl, which shone brilliantly in the firelight. For a moment none of them spoke. The Pearl was warm in Duvo's hands, and the weight of responsibility was strong upon him. Shira's gaze moved from the orb to Duvo, and her love for him swelled. Ceofrin stood back. He did not understand the nature of the Pearl's power, but he did know that armies had fought and died for seven years to possess it, and now it lay within his tavern.
'Oh,' said Shira at last, 'it is so beautiful. Like a moon fallen from the sky.'
'It contains the Eldarin, their cities and their lands. Everything.' Slowly he told them of the journey to the monastery and of the death of Sirano, Duke of Romark. 'What happened at the monastery was terrible,' he said. 'The monks were slain by the Daroth, the younger ones consumed by them.'
Ceofrin listened as Duvo repeated his tale. 'I can only imagine the anger you must feel,' he said.
Duvodas shook his head. 'The Eldarin taught me how to deal with anger: you must let it flow through you without pause. It was a hard lesson, but I believe I mastered it. Anger leads only to hate, and hate is the mother of evil. The Daroth are what they are. Like a storm, perhaps, destructive and violent. I will not hate them. I will not hate anything.'
'If you ask me,' said Ceofrin, 'you are walking a hard road. Man is born to love, and to hate. I do not believe that any teaching can alter that.'
'You are wrong,' said Duvodas. 'In my life I have seen evil in all its forms, great and small. They have not altered my perceptions.'
Ceofrin smiled. 'You are a good man, Duvo. May I touch it?' Duvo passed it to him. Hefting the Pearl in his huge hands, he stared hard into its milky depths. 'I cannot see cities here.'
'They are there, nonetheless. I must get the Pearl to the highest mountain of the Eldarin lands. Then they will return.'
'And help us destroy the Daroth?' asked Ceofrin.
'No. I do not believe they will.'
'Then why bring them back?'
'Father! How can you say that?' asked Shira. 'Do they not deserve to live?'
'I did not mean it in that way,' said Ceofrin, reddening. 'What I meant is that if they chose to hide from a human army because they do not like to fight, then why bring them back to face a Daroth one?'