light against his cheek and remained stiff and aligned. He guessed that the bow and arrows were stolen, and not long ago at that.
Both eyes on his target Baylee released half a breath, held it, then released his shaft. The arrow leaped from the bow as fast, straight, and deadly as a falcon cutting air after a dove. Before his first arrow took the rearmost ore in the throat, the ranger had another arrow on the bowstring. He released again at his second target.
The first ore seized the arrow that suddenly feathered its throat and made choking noises. The creature took a few halting steps, pulling weakly at the shaft. The second arrow slid into the face of another ore, burying itself to the fetching in an eye socket as the arrowhead crashed through the back of its skull.
The remaining ores howled in fright as they saw the one in front of them fall dead, its head snapping cruelly as the spent force of the arrow turned it. Both of the unwounded creatures turned to be confronted by the one drowning in its own blood behind them.
The hesitation gave Baylee time to get off two more shafts. The first sped true, snapping into place beneath the helm of one ore and cleaving the creature's backbone. The second shaft buried itself in the side of the last ore but did not slow the creature's frightened run back into the forest.
Keeping an arrow nocked, Baylee took four more arrows from the quiver and fisted them with the bow. He moved instantly into the shadows in case he had been spotted.
He stayed with the trees, moving silent and quick. His mind searched for Xuxa, thinking he might be within range of the azmyth baf s telepathic range. Xuxa.
I am here, Baylee. Her mental voice sounded distant and anxious.
Baylee took a final look around. Only two ores appeared to have survived the encounter and were hastily making tracks out of the forest, pausing only long enough to gather the horses tied beneath a copse of trees a hundred paces distant. What's wrong?
Jaeleen has found the sacrificial well of the trollkin you sought.
A smile tweaked Baylee's lips in spite of the fact that Jaeleen was so close to the prize he'd come seeking. Surely you didn't think she just happened along out here.
No.
Baylee turned his steps toward her, following the lay of the land.
Never once had he not known where he was during the course of the battle. I killed six of the ores.
I have killed one.
Baylee dropped to the forest floor. Another few paces and he crested a hill that overlooked the dig. He peered through the shadows and spotted Xuxa only through practiced effort near the top of the tree. Jaeleen was nowhere to be seen. However, the meaty smack of the shovel blade biting into the earth echoed to Baylee's ears.
Keep watch, Xuxa, he said as he moved for the dig.
Baylee crept up on the hole and looked down into it. Jaeleen was on her hands and knees, digging with grim determination. Seeing the hole widening before the woman fired Baylee's blood. A wide grin filled his face. He had known the well couldn't be much farther down.
Jaeleen looked back over her shoulder as she took a broad-bladed knife from her trail kit. 'Are the ores gone?'
'Yes,' Baylee replied. 'The ones that aren't dead.'
'Tymora willing, there are more dead than alive.'
He gave her a tight nod, slightly put off by her apparent blood-thirstiness. Though they were ores and would have spilled his life's blood, the ranger felt that all life was precious. He culled stories from the ages, walked the paths of men and women, humans, dwarves, and elves, learned how they'd lived and how they died. In that pursuit, he had learned to revere much about many people.
'You always were good in a fight,' Jaeleen acknowledged. She snapped a glance at him, her face showing thinly disguised impatience. 'Those ores will be back soon, you know.'
'I know.'
'Then help me! By Tymora's grace, we will be long gone from here by the time the survivors are able to find us, and interest another group of ores in attacking us.'
If she didn't need your help, Xuxa announced, she'd have been praying that you'd be as dead as those ores out in the forest.
You're wrong. She's not like that. Baylee stepped into the pit he'd been working on. There was barely room for them both. Their bodies brushed together, and he was too well aware of her scent, thinly disguised beneath the lingering trace of Arabellan herb soap. Not all the time.
Dragons, Xuxa assured him, are less greedy by nature. You live in the wild, friend Baylee, and you should know these things. My nature and yours… there are things we would never do. She is too civilized to trust.
Keep watch. The azmyth bat's silence rebuked Baylee. He picked up the shovel. 'Move aside. We'll be here all night while you pick at those stones with that toy.'
Reluctantly, Jaeleen slid aside. 'Dare we risk a light?'
'The ores already know we're here. A light can do no real harm.' Baylee rammed the shovel home. 'How did you find out about the well?'
Jaeleen rummaged in her trail kit and brought out a compact oil lamp hardly bigger than her palm. It had six sides and seemed to be constructed more of glass than of worked metal. The glass sides held tiny etched figures of silhouette dancers. She spoke a quiet word Baylee could not catch. Obediently, the lamp's wick ignited. A warm glow grew from the lamp, bathing the dig site.
'You still have Yarik's lamp, I see.' Baylee slammed the shovel against the stonework of the well. A chunk of mortar and rock broke free. He saw it fall and heard it echo as it scraped the sides on the way down.
Jaeleen pushed the lamp toward the opening. The darkness within retreated slightly, becoming an ellipse trapped in the mouth of the well that went down ten feet. 'I didn't hear it hit.'
'No,' Baylee said with conviction, 'it's supposed to be bottomless.'
The woman glanced up at him, her eyes widening slightly. 'You're joking.'
He kept his face serious with effort. Jaeleen had always lorded it over him that she knew more than he did when he'd been Gol-sway's pupil. That hadn't stopped in the days since Baylee had been on his own, even though they both knew it wasn't true. 'What have you been told about the well?'
Jaeleen shrugged. 'Not much. I only just found out about it.' She paused, looking deep into his eyes in that way that she had that Baylee found so damned irresistible. 'Probably not nearly as much as you have.'
'Probably not,' Baylee agreed. 'May I have the lamp?'
She handed it over somewhat reluctantly.
'I heard the tale in Jester's Green two tendays ago. You know where Jester's Green is?'
'North of Suzail.' Baylee was intrigued. He had heard of the legend himself in Dhedluk while searching for another treasure altogether. Mention of the sacrificial well of Vaprak had been contained in a history of herbalist's lore the ranger had borrowed from a private library in the town to conduct research. The writer had been a native of Waymoot back in the days when the trollkin ruled the hills around that city, attacking caravans and travelers at their leisure. 'Who told you the tale?'
'They have a number of soldiers garrisoned there.' Jaeleen peered over Baylee's shoulder.
From the periphery of his vision, Baylee saw the smooth, rounded curves of the woman's breasts pressing from the top of her bodice as if they were going to fall out. He reminded himself to breathe.
'Those soldiers were all too willing to try to impress a woman with a nice smile and seeming innocence with their stories. Most of them were twice-told tales as stale as a fishmonger's love life. But, as you know, every now and then, there is that kernel of truth.'
Baylee knew. He shifted, sending the lamp further down into the yawning mouth of the cursed pit.
'One of the stories told was by a retired sergeant of the Purple Dragons,' Jaeleen went on. 'As a boy, he'd lived in Waymoot. Most of the stories he told were of course about Lord Filfar Woodbrand, the local legend.' The woman leaned in closer and her cheek brushed against Baylee's bare shoulder. The touch of perspiration covered skin was electric. 'He told the story of how Woodbrand killed all the marauding trollkin in the area five or six times before he ever mentioned the well. In their day, the trollkin were very successful. A number of caravans as well as private individuals were murdered by the trolls. Thrown into this very well.'
