by James Lowder
Frowning, Kaverin watched his servant disappear into the night. "I said the same thing myself a hundred times before," he muttered.
Torches flared to life around the shattered village as the goblins set about the unwelcome task of gathering the dead and patching together their homes. M'bobo supervised the work from the palace steps, pointing out tasks with Balt's scimitar. "We need more Batiri real soon," she said to Kaverin. As if to emphasize the point, two young goblins tossed a locust-ravaged corpse onto a pile of bodies next to Grumog's pit.
"Can't you call in the other warriors?" Kaverin asked. He forced Rayburton to sit on the stairs at the queen's feet. "You said there were hundreds of smaller Batiri villages all over the area."
"They no come if we can't promise chow or good pillage," M'bobo replied. She pointed at the gory pile of bodies. "Hey! Hurry up and burn 'em. You want they should get up again?"
Kaverin's flame-red eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Get up again?"
After watching a warrior set a torch to the pyre, the queen said, "Yeah. Jungle full of walking dead. Sometimes Batiri get up if you don't burn 'em quick. Sometimes they don't, though." She brushed aside the topic with a wave of the scimitar. "So, can you promise chow?"
"Of course," Kaverin said smoothly. "If you gather enough warriors, I'll promise you all the Tabaxi in Mezro. There should be enough humans there to feed your warriors for a whole year."
Queen M'bobo licked her gray lips in anticipation and called for her runners.
Artus scratched furiously under the bandage on his shoulder. The arrow wound wasn't serious, but the poultice applied by the Mezroan surgeons felt like nothing so much as ants crawling over his skin. "Look," he said, "whatever his reasons, T'fima slid the gems into my pocket. I think he wants to help the city. He just won't admit it."
Sanda nodded her agreement, but Kwalu remained unconvinced. Since returning to Mezro a few hours past, they had been arguing the point-that is, when they weren't catching an hour of desperately needed sleep or being attended by surgeons. Now the three crossed the moonlit plaza surrounding the Temple of Ubtao, bound for the council chamber to see King Osaw.
"It was only a guilty conscience that made him give you the lightning gems," Kwalu noted sourly.
"We wouldn't have escaped the goblin camp without them," Sanda said. "At least they gave us a chance against Skuld."
Kwalu ran his thumb over a chip in his war club. Somewhere in the jungle lay a goblin's corpse with a corresponding dent in its skull. "Our own fighting skill freed us from the goblins, that and my father's warriors. If they hadn't arrived when they did, the goblins would have overrun us for sure."
That was something Artus disagreed with strongly, but there was no more time to argue. The temple door stood before them. No guards or attendants flanked the portal, no torches set it off from the dark crystal walls of the weird structure. Somehow, though, an inner radiance lit the yellowish brown wood. The inlaid panels depicted men and women living within a labyrinth of vines. Around some corners lurked dinosaurs, around others gorgeous fountains and quiet pools. At the center lay the temple itself-Artus squinted and leaned closer. Three tiny figures, positioned just as he, Sanda, and Kwalu were, stood at the temple door. The explorer was never certain if his eyes had deceived him, for at that moment the negus pushed the temple door open.
The eyes of Mezro's greatest heroes fell upon Artus as he entered the temple. Statues lined both sides of the long corridor, gigantic figures carved in glossy black stone. On one side of the door, a woman danced at the heart of an inferno, flames trailing from her hair and curling from her fingers. Across from her, a young boy held his arms to his side, soaring above stone clouds. Eagles swooped around him, talons extended, beaks open in joyous cries of war.
"These are the barae who have gone to Ubtao," Sanda whispered reverentially. "The ones on the right side are the seven original paladins."
As Artus followed her toward a darkened arch at the end of the hall, he glanced up at the other statues in the Hall of Champions. An old man held a hammer over an anvil, a razor-sharp spear tip in the making. Next to him a woman raced a jaguar along a stony path, both charging forward at full speed. Other men and women cast in equally fantastic poses looked down on him with steady gazes, unseeing yet full of understanding. There were empty pedestals farther up the hall, one on the right and a half-dozen to the left. These, Artus assumed, were reserved to honor barae who were still alive.
From behind one of these pedestals Lugg appeared. "You ain't got 'im back, 'ave you?"
Artus stopped before the brown wombat. "No," he sighed. "They stopped us before we could rescue Byrt or Lord Rayburton."
Lugg hung his head. "That's it, then," he said mournfully. "Poor little Byrt's for it now. They've probably cooked 'im up already."
"Don't give up hope," Sanda said. She knelt down and scratched behind the wombat's ear.
At the end of the hall, Kwalu paused. "The king is waiting," he said.
The explorer couldn't bring himself to tell Lugg he had little hope for finding Byrt alive, but from the look in the wombat's eyes, it was clear he understood.
Kwalu, Sanda, and Artus passed through the arch together. The explorer was amazed at the audience chamber that lay on the other side. The arch had been dark, but color and light filled the room beyond.
The walls of the triangular chamber were made of stained glass, and even though the sun had gone down hours ago, light poured through the windows in boldly slanting rays. A mosaic covered the floor, depicting the entire city of Mezro. As on the main door to the temple, tiny figures moved on the mosaic, going about their business beneath the feet of the counselors. In the center of the room, where the mosaic temple stood, King Osaw sat in a huge throne. He was alone in the cavernous room.
The king regarded the negus, Sanda, and Artus with hooded eyes as they kneeled before him and told of the attack on the Batiri village. When they described how they had escaped back to Mezro, however, he covered his withered face with his hands. "Kaverin Ebonhand is coming to Mezro," the king said. "He will lead the Batiri here and bring our city down around us."
"Impossible," Kwalu snapped. "The wall hides the city. Even if he wanted to, Kaverin could not find us."
"Why do you think the silver-skinned one let you return here, untouched?" Osaw asked. He turned clear eyes to Artus. "This Kaverin is a clever man. If, as you have told me, he seeks immortality, he will raze the city to find the secret of the barae. Lord Rayburton must have told him how he has lived so long."
Sanda leaped to her feet. "Father wouldn't reveal our secrets, even if Kaverin tortured him."
"There is no disgrace if he did, Alisanda," the king replied, motioning for her to sit. "Your father is a wise man, but he feels pain like anyone." He looked distractedly at the mosaic. "Right now, I miss his counsel greatly."
Tapping his wax club on the floor impatiently, Kwalu said, "There is no danger to Mezro. Even if this scoundrel finds the city, he won't be able to pass through the wall."
King Osaw smiled, a mixture of warmth and patronizing acceptance for his son. "As always, Negus Kwalu, your courage makes you believe yourself invincible. You will find that no wall can stand against every foe."
Finally Artus spoke up. "When they were captured, both Byrt and Lord Rayburton wore the earrings that neutralize the wall. Kaverin or Skuld will certainly figure out how they work, given time."
"Then we must prepare for war," the king concluded. "Kwalu, you must bring the citizens together to stand against the Batiri." The negus nodded his agreement, and Osaw turned to Artus. "You, Master Cimber, must go as my messenger to Mainu, the bara who controls the river that borders the city to the south and west. Tell her Mezro has need of her and explain the threat. If she can promise to hold the Olung River against the Batiri, we can focus our defenses to the north and east."
Artus touched his forehead to the floor, then stood. "Of course, Great King. I shall go at once."
"Sleep first," Osaw said.
"But only until dawn. You must not appear ragged to the bara of the river. She loves pomp and ceremony more than anything in this world."
Sanda stood, too. "I will go into the jungle and search for one of Ubtao's Children, a beast that will be worthy of fighting for the city."
"Take a dozen warriors with you, Alisanda, and do not go far," the king commanded. "You will be needed to defend the city."
Osaw stood, ending the audience. Artus and the others left the king pacing across the mosaic, hands clenched behind his back.
In the entry hall, Sanda offered an abrupt farewell. "Wish me luck." That said, she headed for the door.
"Wait!" Artus shouted. He rushed down the hall to her side. "I wish I were going with you."
Sanda looked deeply into Artus's eyes, then suddenly dropped her gaze to the floor. "Remember what I said about spending time with mortals. That applies to you, too, Artus."
In silence Artus watched Sanda leave. When the explorer turned around, he found Kwalu watching him. The negus had a mask of casual disinterest on his face, but the odd look in his eyes told another story. "She would not be so blunt if she did not care for you," he said simply, then turned back to the archway. "I am going to a meditation chamber I'll meet you here at dawn."
"For what?" Artus asked.
"I will school you in the etiquette of Mainu's court," the negus offered over his shoulder.
Just before Kwalu disappeared under the arch, Artus said, "Where are you going? I didn't see any door leading out of the audience chamber."
"There is only one door inside the temple." Kwalu pointed at the darkened archway. "It takes you anywhere you wish to go, to any of the thousand rooms Ubtao built for his followers."
After the negus had gone, Lugg trundled out from behind a pillar to sniff at the archway. "If we have to wait 'ere till morning, I wonder if this thing leads to any kitchens 'ereabouts?"
Artus stared at the empty pedestals, wondering which of them was reserved for Sanda. "I think I'll just go to get some rest," he said.
At the door to the plaza the explorer paused. He'd never find his way back to his quarters alone, not through that maze of alleys. Besides, it wasn't really fair to leave the wombat on his own. "Why don't you come with me, Lugg. I know a park that has some interesting shrubbery, if you've a taste for that sort of thing."
The meeting with Mainu that morning was brief and extremely formal. It was also held underwater, at the bottom of the murky Olung River.
As King Osaw had told Artus, the Olung bordered Mezro to the west and south, curving gently through three of the city's quarters. In many places the mystic defensive wall ran parallel to the river, in others right on top of it. The animals that made their home in or around the muddy water didn't seem to notice. Hippos wallowed near the shore, watching kingfishers dive for minnows and other small fish. Turtles and crocodiles basked in the sun, rolling languidly into the water if anyone got too close. They sent ripples across the round leaves of water lilies as they submerged.
Such was the domain of Mainu. From a sumptuous court at the bottom of the river, she ruled the Olung for ten miles to either side of the city. The bara was undoubtedly the strangest Artus had met, and how he came to be in her presence proved stranger still.
Just after dawn, Artus had set off from the Temple of Ubtao. Lugg shied away from trudging to the river on such a sunny day; like goblins, wombats preferred to travel by night. At the riverbank, the explorer called out a ritual greeting and, dressed in his tunic, boots, and pants, waded into the water. After two or three steps, the bottom fell away. Artus plunged into the tepid river, gasping in a mouthful of muddy water as he sank.
After the panic subsided, he found himself breathing the stuff. Artus was used to it now, though the river had the same grimy quality as the air around the metalcrafters' market in Suzail. The oddest thing was coughing, which he did frequently. With each hack, he sent a jet of bubbles swirling around his head.
Artus was trying his best to muffle just such a coughing jag when Mainu finally responded to his plea for aid on behalf of King Osaw.
Artus Cimber of Cormyr, she said, her voice flowing across his mind like the river's gentle current, we are greatly saddened by this news. As we are loyal subjects of Ubtao and of King Osaw, negus negusti, we will do everything we can to help defend Mezro.
Mainu paused, her long hair floating around her like a veil of seaweed. She was a thing of the Olung, of that there could be no mistake. Her face and her body were nothing more than a more profound darkness within the murk of the river. She swayed and rocked with the current, held in place by long, thin fingers that gripped the throne with fierce strength. Only her eyes seemed out of place-bright and glowing like the sun.
The bara turned those golden eyes on Artus, who kneeled before her turtle-shell throne. We thank you for delivering this message, Master Cimber, and express our hope you will aid Mezro against the Batiri. If you do, we will afford you the honors due a warrior of Ubtao. The creatures of the Olung will bow to your wishes, and the waters of my river will do you no harm.
Artus kowtowed, touching his forehead to the carpet of flowing green leaves. The kind offer sent a wave of relief over him; the soldiers flanking Mainu's throne were as awe-inspiring as any he had ever seen. A strange mix of human and lobster, the guards were girded in black shells, very much like a knight's most impressive plate armor.
Their hands were massive claws, and their tiny eyes extended upon long stalks. You honor me with your kindness, great mistress of the Olung, Artus replied, just as Kwalu had coached him.
At a slight flick of Mainu's chin, the lobster-men moved forward to escort Artus back to the shore. The explorer rose and bowed again. King Osaw thanks you, Mainu, as will all of Mezro when this war is over.
The mistress of the Olung took in Artus's gratitude without expression. One thing before you go, Master Cimber, she said. Is this threat to Ubtao's city great enough for the king to summon all the barae to the cause?
I do not know all of King Osaw's plans, great mistress of the Olung, Artus replied politely.
Mainu nodded. Perhaps that will be your next task. Master Cimber, to contact the other bara, the one you have yet to meet. If you are asked to deal with the outcast, remember that he will do anything for Mezzo-and that is what makes him truly dangerous.
The lobster-men flanked Artus as he walked back to the bank. Once out of the river, the explorer found himself dry and the water miraculously gone from his lungs, though he coughed out river silt most of the way back to the temple. Kwalu met him at the temple door, a sheaf of battle plans tucked under his arm.
"What can you tell me about the seventh bara?" Artus asked as he and Kwalu entered the Hall of Champions. "I mean, Mainu mentioned something about an outcast. That's who she meant, right?"
The negus stopped dead in his tracks. "As far as you are concerned, there are only six barae-my father. Lord Rayburton, Sanda, Mainu, T'fima, and me. The reasons why we do not speak of the other, not even his name, are too complicated to go into now. It should be enough that we do not want him in the city again."
"But-"
Kwalu turned on his heels and strode off toward the archway. "Perhaps we can discuss the matter after we drive Kaverin and the Batiri back to the jungle." The negus glanced at Lugg, who was curled into a ball in front of one of the statues, snoring. "I must report to my father. If you want to wait here, I will inform you of our plans for troop placement when I'm done."
The wombat snorted awake. "Well?" he demanded. "What are you doing to get Byrt back?"
Artus traced the name of one of the fallen barae with his finger. "We are going to wait for the Batiri to attack us," he sighed.
"But they might kill 'im before then! Poor Byrt!"
"Look, I didn't say I agreed with the plan, but I'm not in charge here." The explorer paced to the next statue. "In fact, the more time I spend in the city, the more certain I am that I wouldn't want to be."
The brown wombat scu
ffed back and forth. "With all these barae about, you'd think they could just fly in and grab the two of 'em from Kaverin."
Artus snorted. "If the barae could get along, they might be dangerous," he said. "T'fima won't help because he's pouting about the wall, and there's another bara the king and the others won't call because he did something they won't talk about."
"What other bara?" Lugg asked. "If there's someone else 'anging about with magical powers, the king should bury the 'atchet and let 'im in for the scrap."
Shrugging, Artus moved on to the next statue. "Kwalu wouldn't tell me his name." He paused and looked at the six statues on the right side of the hall. These were the original barae, the ones chosen and empowered by Ubtao himself. But one of the pedestals was empty. "The seventh bara," Artus whispered. "Gods, he must be powerful if he was one of the first."
His eyes flew from one statue to another, taking in the magical gifts of the fallen barae. What did Ubtao give to the last of the original paladins? Artus wondered.
A passage from King Osaw's book, The Eternal History of Mezro, came back to him then: The one the god chooses is granted some magnificent power. Ras Nsi, one of the first seven raised up by Ubtao, was granted the power to muster the dead……
Artus ran down the right side of the hall, checking each statue. Tabiaza.… Anzi... Zimwa. "That's it," he said, joining Lugg before the empty pedestal. "Ras Nsi."
"No!" Kwalu shouted. The negus raced from the archway toward Artus, but it was already too late.
A pool of darkness opened beneath the explorer's feet, and he fell. For a time-he couldn't tell how long-all light and sound disappeared from the world. He moved through a void so absolute he couldn't be sure he wasn't dead.
At last he tumbled back into the world, landing with bone-jarring suddenness in the center of a wasteland. All around him the ground was broken and barren. Charred stumps of trees littered the land for miles in every direction. The sound of wood cracking and trees crashing to the ground drifted in from the distance, while vultures wheeled in the sky overhead, waiting patiently for their bounty. From the stench of rotten meat that filled the air, Artus was certain there was plenty of carrion to be had.