The Ring of Winter

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 scuffed 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.

'Oi, get off me,' came a muffled voice.

Artus rolled and found Lugg pinned beneath him. The wombat was covered in soot and dirt from the blasted ground.

'Where are we?' the explorer asked. He adjusted the bandage on his shoulder and struggled to his feet.

'Maybe we should ask them poor sots over there,' Lugg offered.

Coming toward them was a group of ten men. They moved with painful slowness over the broken ground. As they got closer, Artus drew his dagger. Human and goblin walked together. Their eyes were white and rolled back in the sockets. Cuts and scrapes and the steady working of decay had turned their faces into ghastly masks of death. Some were missing fingers or hands or whole arms. Others had twisted, broken bones jutting from their legs.

Zombies, Artus hissed. And from the way the undead goblins drooled at the sight of the explorer, he was certain they hadn't lost their taste for living flesh.

Fourteen

Queen M'bobo stared mutely at the ten-foot-tall warrior standing before her. The hulking thing resembled the lizard men she'd seen near the Olung River-scaly skin, massively muscled limbs, and clawed hands and feet- though this beast lacked a tail. Its face was narrow, with a nose that jutted forward like a cutter's bowsprit. Unblinking white eyes returned the goblin's disbelieving gaze, and it moved its beaked snout silently. On one of its tiny, shell-like ears, a silver triangle dangled.

'Fly?' M'bobo scoffed. 'It no look like it can run!' She shifted her lion-skin parasol to shade her face from the bright sunshine.

Calmly Kaverin Ebonhand patted the lizard-thing's shoulder. 'Skuld stumbled across this fellow when he was tracking Cimber and the others back to Mezro,' he said. 'There are only about one hundred of them nearby, but I think they'll make excellent scouts and useful front-rank troops.' He rattled off a long series of guttural clacks and rumbles, then gestured to the nearest tree.

The scaly giant tilted its head like a curious parrot, growling deep in its throat. Bowing to Kaverin and the goblin queen, it lumbered to the nearest tree. The creature used its claws like the crampons on a mountaineer's boots and swiftly climbed hand-over-hand to a spot high off the ground. There, just below the canopy of leaves, it held one arm out and screeched long and loud. Then it let go of the rough bark.

M'bobo fluffed her golden locks and watched in impatient silence, waiting for the brute to plummet to the ground. But the creature did not fall. It hung in the air as if suspended by thin wires. Kaverin smirked, reminded of the actors he'd seen portraying gods on the stage in Tantras, hanging from the rafters by complicated harnesses. Yet no actor could match the amazing feat the lizard-scout performed next. Its form blurred, skull melting into a beaked head with a rudderlike crown, legs shriveling to thin stalks ending in talons. While its body stayed the same length, the creature suddenly sported leathery wings at least eight feet from tip to shoulder. Again the scout shrieked. It floated forward, then folded its wings and crashed up through the canopy. Only the silver earring distinguished it from the other pteradons cutting through the afternoon sky as it sailed away.

Kaverin sighed in satisfaction. Once Skuld had reported Mezro was hidden behind a magical wall of