The Lost Library of Cormanthy - Mel Odom [69]
"The ones who controlled the skeleton warriors were the most protected of the group," Cordyan pointed out.
"I know." The situation didn't make sense to Baylee either. The people who controlled the skeleton warriors had been deep within the group of drow. He quickly searched the dead, seeking answers.
Two of the drow had died by the sword, their bodies opened up in great gashes. But the third one he checked didn't appear to have a mark on him. Grabbing the corpse by a shoulder, the ranger pulled and rolled it over.
He spotted the black fletchings of the small crossbow bolt that jutted out from the back of the man's neck. The bolt was of dark elf design, matching ones Baylee found in the small quiver on the man's thigh. "This man was killed by his own." He released the corpse and let it fall back to the ground.
"As was this one," Cordyan informed him grimly. She indicated the quarrel sticking out from below the man's left ear.
"They were taking no chances about being followed," Baylee said. "Someone had already taken into account the cost of failure."
Cordyan let go the corpse she'd handled and looked up at Baylee. "They
came here for you."
"Perhaps."
The light from Carceus's spell faded from the sky and moonlight returned to highlight the watch lieutenant's features. "There is no 'perhaps' about it," she replied. "Whether there was a drow involved with Fannt Golsway's murder or not, his death exhibited strong magic. Just like this."
Baylee knew it was true. His thoughts had already taken the same fork in the stream. He gazed around at the carnage that had ripped so bluntly into the festive atmosphere of the forgathering. Only moments before, so many of the people around him had been involved in swapping stories, swapping possessions, eating and drinking, competing, and perhaps even flirting at love.
Now, they tended the wounded and dead comrades among them, and sought to tip the scales on the ones they might lose. Thankfully, a number of clerics and druids had attended the forgathering. Those who had healing potions shared willingly among the fallen.
Guilt chafed in Baylee's mind.
You did not know, Xuxa chided him. If you had, you would not have brought this trouble among your friends.
Baylee looked at the tree where the azmyth bat held her prize from the clutches of the skeleton warrior. The undead creature swayed unsteadily in the thinner branches near the top of the tree, searching in vain over and over, like some kind of artisan's automaton for safe passage higher.
He turned at the sound of his name and saw Serellia approaching him. Her beautiful face was streaked with blood, and tears ran down her cheeks. Her
sword remained naked in her fist.
"It's Aymric," she said.
Baylee felt like a cold fist closed around his heart. "Where?" He knew many people in many places, but so few actually got close to him. The elf was one of the closest.
Serellia guided him to Aymric.
Pale and disheveled, Aymric lay on the ground as Karg and two other men sought to bind the horrible wound across his midsection. The skeleton warrior's sword stroke had laid him open. The elf looked up at Baylee and tried to speak.
Baylee knelt beside his friend, feeling the tears burn his eyes. He took Aymric's hand and closed it tightly in his. "I should not have left you," he whispered in a hoarse voice.
Aymric showed him a small smile and moved his head back and forth.
"Let me through!" a voice urged. "He may not yet be too far gone!"
Baylee shifted and let Carceus through. The priest's face remained blank as he surveyed his patient. "Gond willing," Carceus said, "I'll not suffer him to die." He pulled up his robe sleeves. "Water, please." He held his hands out.
Karg stood nearby and removed the small flask at his hip. "It's spring water, god-speaker, brought from the airy heights, only one step removed from the heavens themselves."
"Even better. Pour." The giant killer sluiced the water over