He shoved his fingers in deeper, trying to locate the bottom, straining against its weight and the suck of wet earth that refused to release their prize. “Sir, can I help you with—”

“Get away from me!” Faryon snapped at whomever of his men had made the mistake of approaching, pushing with his legs as much as his arms and back. For some reason, he needed to do this one thing by himself. For some reason, it felt like the forest testing him. Would he be found worthy?

Animalistic sounds groaned from his throat. Vertebrae along his spine popped and crackled. His knees creaked under the weight. “Rut the rutting rutter!” he cursed, allowing himself a quick breath before redoubling his efforts. “Arrrrrrrr!” he roared as the stone moved ever so slightly. He latched onto the momentum, lifting and pushing simultaneously, driving with his heels and shoving with his shoulders. The stone rolled free with a squelch, tumbling away down a small incline before crashing into a tree and coming to rest.

Though his body felt like it had been kicked several times by a horse, Faryon smiled. For there, right where the stone had been a moment earlier, was a puddle. Not of something so mundane as water, but a golden, glowing liquid as deep as a generous bowl of soup. “Over here!” he called. “Start digging.”

Three days later

A mixture of excitement, relief and vindication spilled through him as he stared at the golden pond. They still hadn’t located the source of the wellspring, but he knew it was only a matter of time. What he did know was that the deeper they’d dug, the more liquid had bubbled up from the earth. And though his men had worked harder in the last three days than they’d worked in the last ten, it had felt easier. Every grunt was countered by a smile, every grimace of pain followed by a laugh.

Faryon had made his men wear tall wading boots as they worked and cover themselves head to toe in protective clothing. Though several had raised eyebrows at his strange commands, none had questioned him. He wasn’t normally a man with a flair for the dramatic, but in this case, he was planning to make an exception.

Right now, as it turned out. “Stop!” he ordered, and he was pleased to find every shovel about to dig into the dirt pause in mid-stroke as heads turned to look at him. “Rest. Well done.”

The men slumped down, tossing their tools aside, each shimmering with the coating of the strange liquid. He allowed them a few minutes to peel off their gloves, guzzle their water, and chew on some food. Then he said, “I’ll require a volunteer.” When no one immediately came forward, he added, “You will be paid double your normal day’s wage.”