“What does it matter to them if someone survives?” asked Jackle, who refused to leave the ledge.

“I am not sure,” admitted Kenda, “but it does matter to them. Maybe they don’t want anyone left alive to describe their attack? I do not know, but I am positive that we are in danger. Hide in a crevice.”

“They can’t get us up here,” countered Jackle. “Just let those foreigners try to scale the Wall of Mermidion. They will never make it to the top.”

“Neither will we,” retorted Kenda. “I never thought we could make it all the way up, but I didn’t want to spoil your fun. These crevices disappear near the top of the wall. We will have to go back down eventually, but not until the foreigners are gone.”

“I am never going back down there,” declared Jackle. “There is nothing left for me in Duran. I will not return.”

“We will discuss this later,” sighed Kenda. “Get yourself into a crevice before someone looks up here and sees you.”

“I would rather that they saw me,” protested Jackle. “Maybe some of them will die trying to capture me. They cannot climb the Wall of Mermidion, and we can.”

“Jackle,” pleaded Kenda. “Just hide.”

Suddenly, a brilliant flash seared Kenda’s eyes. He heard Jackle emit a ghastly scream that faded to nothing as his friend’s body tumbled down to the base of the Wall of Mermidion. Kenda closed his eyes tightly and cried.

For hours, Kenda remained hidden in the crevice, listening to the distant sounds from below. First came the sounds of warfare, screams, shouts, the clashing of steel. An eerie silence followed after a while, broken only occasionally by the crash of a collapsing building. Kenda turned his head and peered out of the crevice. Tall columns of smoke billowed upward from the burning city. Kenda wondered if anything would be left of the city when he descended.

Eventually, new sounds drifted up to his perch on the Wall of Mermidion.