Brisid awoke to a rustling from the woods. He wondered how Deallyona had reacted to his strange habit of sleeping. The stars shone above; the morning sun was still many hours away. Looking around, he noticed Dhenn was asleep. Deallyona was not in sight. Searching the forest, he saw the familiar glint of gold in the moonlight. He was dreaming again. He grabbed his sword out of instinct and, like in his previous dream, followed the golden flashes. He smelled the scent of water and stepped over a bare hill beyond the forest. A valley stretched before him, with a waterfall on one side splashing into a small pond. However, the beautiful elf-maiden was not kneeling at the water's edge. He started to walk to the pool, but stopped when a blade was pressed to his throat.

"Call of your dogs, dolangren," said a low female voice behind him.

"Deallyona, yer not supposed to be in my dream," Brisid mentioned, recognizing the voice.

"Brisid, what are you doing here? This is no dream!"

"You're right, Deallyona Uialelen. This is your nightmare," someone else said behind the two elves. Deallyona spun around, swinging her blade at the stranger. Brisid heard the twang of a few bows. An arrow landed at his feet and another disappeared into the valley behind him. The last tore into the elf-maiden's shoulder, halting her attack. She fell to the ground with a gasp and felt a sleeping potion spread through her body.

Seeing the elf-maiden fall, Brisid cast a missile shield around him just before three more darts deflected off it. Quickly scanning the forest line, he threw a fireball at the arrows' source and drew his long sword. The stranger, however, had fled. A thicket to his right moved untouched by wind.

"Come out slowly or die," he commanded, preparing to throw magic missiles into the brush.

A familiar figure stepped from the thicket. "Lower your hands. It's me, Dhenn. I awakened to the sound of an explosion. What has happened?"

"We were attacked just a minute ago. Deallyona fell to a potion-tipped arrow. The explosion you heard was probably from the fireball I launched into the archers' midst." Though the elf could not see them, Dhenn's eyebrows raised in surprise at his words. "Help me carry her back to the camp."

Dhenn knelt over Deallyona's still form in the camp. "The shoulder wound is rather superficial-made with a short bow and weak archer. The potion is also mild. She's just in a deep sleep. We just have to nudge her awake. A pity we must do so-she has not slept this day," Dhenn remarked. Thinking he could do much worse, Brisid just settled for shaking the sleeping elf's shoulder. She awoke with a stifled yawn.

"How are you?" Dhenn asked.

"I've been better. What happened?" she asked sleepily, shaking off the last of the potion's effects.

"You were hit with a potion-tipped arrow. What do you remember?"

Deallyona paused in thought and said, "Well, I was hit with the arrow, and I became really tired. Then I saw a fireball leave Brisid's hands...bragollach tel'llach?" She stopped and jumped up, turning to Brisid, "You're a Bladesinger?"

The elf-maiden's eyes shone with an unfamiliar light. Respect? Admiration? Brisid pushed both thoughts aside. He reminded himself it was Deallyona he was considering.

"Yes, ye could say I'm a Bladesinger," he responded carefully.

"Teach me!" Deallyona said, however, not with her usual air of arrogance, but with the attitude of an eager student. So she really did admire him! This was a side neither Brisid nor Dhenn had seen of the beautiful elf before.

Noticing Brisid was at a loss for words, Dhenn said, "We cannot stay here long. I don't doubt your attackers will return with reinforcements."

The three left the camp again before dawn. Deallyona rode point, and a few feet behind her Brisid rode beside Dhenn.

"Why was Deallyona so excited that I am a Bladesinger?" Brisid asked quietly.

"In Alleria, they have lost the art of Bladesinging. Now they only have fighters with slight magical skills, like Deallyona, and clerics who cannot wield blades, like myself. They do not know how to merge the two skills together anymore. Their oldest myths tell about courageous Bladesingers winning great battles against their enemies. And now, after seeing you fight, she probably thinks of you someone not far below a god. Maybe that's why your attackers fled when you launched the fireball. They had not expected to face one of the legendary warriors. However, they will not underestimate you again."

"Have you elfin clerics of Mystra in Alleria?"

"Quite a few. The Temple of Mystra is a strong influence in the kingdom. The plague, however, strikes elves down whether they are of Mystra's order or not. I fear our numbers have been reduced drastically. Why do you ask?"

"In Neverwinter, and in many other lands, we elves cannot become clerics. I would research how the art was preserved in your kingdom. That must wait, however, for lighter times."

Slightly past noon, Deallyona stopped and jumped off of Gladden. "We're here." Her companions dismounted, and Brisid looked around the forest. The firs limited his vision to a few unremarkable yards. A smooth, fist-sized stone of white marble lay on the ground before them. He was about to examine it in detail when Dhenn stepped up to it. The man reached into his tunic and pulled out a small pendant that hung around his neck. From his distance, Brisid could only see the flash of an emerald embedded in the jewelry. The cleric murmured words of magic, and the pendant began to glow. A beam of green light lanced out of the emerald and outlined a doorway in the air in front of them. Leading her mare, Deallyona stepped through. Brisid followed suit. As he stepped through the doorway, he found he was in a different place standing beside Deallyona. A teleporter spell, he noted. Immediately the sickening stench of death hit them. Deallyona ran into the woods, holding her mouth. He looked behind him to see Dhenn step through the glowing doorway which closed soon after the cleric and his horse were clear. Deallyona returned, her face more pale than usual.

"It's gotten worse," Deallyona remarked with dread.