Artus and Lugg began to fade, like the ghostly Pontifax that had haunted the explorer's mind from time to time in the jungle. Before Artus disappeared, though, Ras Nsi said, "It's the ring, isn't it? The one Rayburton brought to Chult from the North? He always was afraid of people like you coming here to hunt for it."
The bara didn't need to hear Artus's reply. The shock on the explorer's face told him everything he wanted to know.
Artus and Lugg found themselves in the Hall of Champions, standing before the empty pedestal that might one day hold a statue of Ras Nsi. The place was deserted, save for the mute stone heroes, but far from silent. Sounds of a fierce battle came from the plaza. Shouted orders entwined with the screams of the wounded. The sharp clatter of steel against steel rose above the rumble of magical thunder. The fight for Mezro bad begun.
"By Tempus's spiked glove," Artus cursed and started toward the door, Lugg at his heels.
In the plaza and throughout the ancient city of Mezro, the scene was chaos, the noise almost deafening. Dozens of pteradons filled the sky, silver orbs clutched in their talons. The flying reptiles soared over the heart of the city on broad leathery wings. When they passed over a group of Mezroan warriors or an important building, they dropped the magical bombs Skuld had given them. The explosions that followed lit the twilight sky and momentarily drowned out the cries of the warriors injured by the blasts. Shards of the shattered buildings and cobblestone from the broken streets ripped through the air, adding to the growing league of the Tabaxi dead.
The city's defenders met the airborne assault with balls of fire and sheets of arrows. In places, magical shields spread like umbrellas over the troops. The bombs exploded against the glowing barriers, filling the sky with fire. Mezroan warriors mounted upon huge butterflies sailed after the pteradons, spearing them with lances or tangling nets around their heads and wings. From time to time one of the reptiles dropped from the air. The creature always changed as it fell, reverting to a form roughly human, though brutish and armored with scales.
From the temple's doorway, Artus could see little of the battle on the ground. Many of the Mezroan sorcerers had taken up positions around the sacred building's single side. They wore the traditional tobe, but also half-cloaks colored in rainbow hues that continually changed. Some of the men and women huddled in tight groups, while others dealt with attacks from the air. A young woman with a mesmerizing pattern of blood-red lines drawn upon her face and arms wielded a long whip of sunlight. With it she battled a pteradon that was trying to fly close to the front ranks. Wherever the brilliant lash struck, it seared the lizard's flesh, leaving its chest scarred and its wings ragged.
Beyond the circle of mages, a line of Tabaxi warriors stood against the goblin horde. They wore wild crowns of feathers and bands of silver and gold on their arms and legs. Dinosaur hide covered their chests. No armor protected their backs, only the tails of exotic jungle cats. There was no need for more than that; Tabaxi warriors never turned away from a foe.
The spearhead of the Batiri attack seemed to come from the northeast, the Scholars' Quarter, well away from the river and any help Mainu could provide. For now, the Tabaxi seemed content to hold a front against the goblins, to keep them away from the temple and the Residential Quarter. Men and women fought side by side. They carried steel-tipped spears, war clubs ridged with sharp studs, and large, diamond-shaped shields. Tiny Batiri arrows stack out from those shields as thickly as trees stood in the jungle, but only a few shafts got past the wall of tanned hide. The warriors took their wounds stoically, but they fought with fury-as the hundreds of goblin corpses littering the plaza before them proved.
"That ghoulish bloke would 'ave a lovely time 'round 'ere," Lugg said breathlessly. "Good thing no one invited 'im along." He looked up at the explorer. "How are we going to find Byrt in all this?"
The question went unheard. "Look, Lugg, you might want to stay inside the temple. You'll be safe there." Artus scanned the assembled mages and warriors for some sign of Negus Kwalu or King Osaw.
The brown wombat stood a moment on the temple's doorstep. The crash and clatter of the battle frightened him, but not enough to paralyze him into inaction. "Awright, Byrt," he murmured, his beady eyes solemn. "If Artus plans to forget his promise, I'll come to find you on my own."
"Did you say something?" Artus asked. When he looked down, Lugg was gone. "Must have followed my word… for once," the explorer noted with surprise, turning his gaze back to the ranks of sorcerers and warriors.
Finally Artus spotted a triangular platinum banner rising above the throng. He looked closer and saw a faint shield of light glittering in the gloaming, arched over the banner and the men gathered around it.
Artus pushed his way through the crowd, coming at last to a tight knot of warriors. "I've important news for the king," Artus shouted, hoping to be heard over the din of lightning bolts and magical explosions.
A calloused hand reached through the throng and guided the explorer through the guards. "We thought we would never see you again," Kwalu said. The negus wore his battle regalia, and had a wild look in his eyes.
"His Excellency was quite hospitable," Artus replied, carefully avoiding Ras Nsi's name. "You're right about him being a madman, though. Where's Sanda?"
"Alisanda has yet to return from her hunting expedition," King Osaw said sadly. "We fear her captured."
Kwalu frowned. "Never. She is too crafty to be caught by goblins; she knew they were preparing for war."
A shiver of dread ran up Artus's spine, but he reminded himself that worrying about Sanda would do her no good. If she were a prisoner of the Batiri, the only way he could help her, and the rest of the city, was to fight.
Briefly the king explained how the goblins had begun their assault a few hours ago, while the sun was still bright in the sky. Such tactics were unheard of, and while the Mezroans were not caught completely off-guard, they were surprised enough for the Batiri to push their way into the Scholars' Quarter. The goblins must have used scouts or spied upon the bara magically, for they were staying far away from the river, out of reach of Mainu's aquatic minions.
It was also clear the Batiri objective was the Temple of Ubtao, for they never launched any attack that might seriously damage the building. Even the pteradons directed their bombs away from the temple. "We have used that against them," Osaw concluded. "If we know they will not harm the temple, we can make it the locus for our army. They dare not direct killing magic against us here, and our warriors are capable of striking ten times for each goblin arrow loosed."
"What about Kaverin?" Artus asked. "And Skuld? I'm surprised that silver monstrosity hasn't shown himself yet."
Kwalu jerked a thumb toward a circle of ten mages. They stood arm in arm, heads bowed in fierce concentration. "We have not seen Kaverin Ebonhand, but our best mages have the silver one trapped," he noted proudly.
"Skuld is a being of such immense magical strength that the sorcerers could sense him coming toward Mezro," the king added. "The moment he entered the city, they conjured a powerful cage of energy and sent it after him. He got no more than a dozen steps into the Scholars' Quarter before they captured him." Osaw bowed his head. "We have not had need of the spell in hundreds and hundreds of years, not since the Eshowe led a thing of darkness out of the jungle to strike us down…"