The Dream Spheres

I reached the city, in which case it's unlikely that you are the cause. There is a third possibility. Perhaps there is a task for me here, in the city. If so, that will give us time to determine what is disrupting the moonblade's magic and yours. No sense running from a foe you have not even named.'

That brought a faint, rueful smile to Danilo's face. 'When you put it that way, I sound like a coward and a fool.'

'I've noticed that humans often err on the side of caution when dealing with the well being of those they love, but I am puzzled. You can accept that I make my way as a warrior, but not the possibility that my sword's magic might falter. I wonder what you trust: my skills or my sword.'

He regarded her with bemused respect. 'I had never considered the matter in that light. Your logic is remarkable.'

She shrugged. 'Problems are like enemies: you name them, track them down, and do whatever it takes to kill them.'

Danilo threw back his head and laughed. As he did, the heavy burden of indecision lifted. Perhaps he could not yet see a way clear for them to be together, but Arilyn's forthright approach to the matter made him believe that one did indeed exist. 'So what do we do now?'

'Assume that my task is in Waterdeep. As long as I tend the needs of the elven folk, I doubt that any but the most dire emergencies will summon me to the forest.'

Hope began to dawn in Danilo's heart. He took her hand and led her over to the cot, and he kept her hand in his as they sat together. 'And if the forest elves have need of you, they will have to take me into the bargain. It is that simple.'

'I wouldn't put it quite that way,' she cautioned him. 'Where elves are concerned, nothing is ever simple.'

Danilo reached over and cupped her cheek in one hand. 'What dream worth having is easily gained?'

'True, but-'

He stopped her argument by sliding his hand over her lips. 'Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?'

'That's rich, coming from you,' she mumbled through his fingers.

She did not seem inclined to further conversation. Her eyes drifted shut as Danilo began to stroke her along her jawline with gentle fingers, then moved back up to trace the elegant points of her elven ears. Few humans understood the intimacy of this gesture. Years ago, in the first bright flush of young manhood, Danilo had been well schooled in such matters by an indulgent elven harp mistress.

Arilyn sent him a look of mock suspicion. 'How do you know such things?'

'The benefit of a well-rounded education.' He held up both hands, palms toward her.

Without hesitation, the half-elf placed her fingertips to his. Slowly their hands eased together until they were palm to palm. It was a simple contact but far more intimate than any kiss or embrace they had yet shared, for it was the beginning of the elven handfasting, a per shy;sonal ritual as old as the seasons. Their eyes locked, their hearts opened to each other, and the circle was begun.

'The summer is nearly past, the harvest moon beck shy;ons the night,' she said in a soft, wondering voice, begin shy;ning the traditional words of the pledge they were about to make.

Danilo wondered if she realized that she was speak shy;ing in Elvish. It was an unconscious acceptance, one he was determined to honor as well as any human man might. By elven standards, their time together would be short. He would die when she was still young; did that mean that he was never to live? Perhaps nothing about elves was ever simple, but this one thing was plain: for him, to deny Arilyn was to deny life.

Their fingers linked, and he repeated the next words of the handfasting pledge. There were more words, accom shy;panied by graceful movements that held the power of spellcasting and the subtlety of starlight. Danilo was not certain when their words melted into silence, and he did not care.

The elven patterns were exquisitely slow, torturously sweet. At some point, the ritual melded with a deeply personal, shared pattern of their own creation, one that was no less sacred for its newness.

Arilyn's patience with elven subtleties shattered before his. She pulled away and tore at her confining shirt with fierce abandon and utter disregard for the laces.

The sound of ripping linen startled her. Danilo burst out laughing at her befuddled expression, and after a surprised moment she joined in. Further bound together in the mirth only he seemed able to inspire in her, they sank down together to her cot, bathed in the mystic blue light of the moonblade's magic.

A moment passed before the implication of that fey light pierced their shared oblivion.

Arilyn sat up abruptly. 'Damn!' she spat, glaring at the inconvenient sword.

Danilo let out a long, unsteady breath and nodded in heartfelt agreement. At least the moonblade's light was blue, not the faint green glow that warned of a dream to come and a forest journey to follow. That was some con shy;solation. The danger of which it warned was close at hand. Name it, track it down, kill it. That, he could deal with.

He reached for his sword belt and boots, trying to remember precisely how they managed to end up on the floor. Arilyn was quicker and was dressed and battle ready in moments.

Her eyes took on a distant expression as she drew the elven sword. 'Tren,' she murmured. 'Here in the building.'

In a moment she was gone, shouting a warning to the dwarven guard as she raced down the stairs. Danilo fol shy;lowed, drawing his sword as he clattered after her.

The curtain concealing the guard's alcove rustled. Four enormous claws punched through the fabric and sliced down, shredding the curtain. Out leaped a hideous reptilian creature, fully the height of a tall man and at least two stone heavier.

Dan stopped, impressed despite himself. He'd heard that tren were like lizardmen, but that was true only as a dwarf could be said to resemble a human. Compact and powerful, the creature was thick with muscle and armored with leathery green hide. Spikes lined its back shy;bone and jutted from behind each elbow joint. Long, powerful arms ended in hands so enormous that each clawed finger was fully the length of a human's hand. A long, livid cut traced the bony ridge above one eye.

'This time,' the creature said, addressing Arilyn in a voice that sounded like rocks tumbling downhill, 'we finish this.'

'Watch the claws,' Arilyn snapped back at Danilo.

'Watch the dwarf,' Dan riposted. He threw his weight against Arilyn and sent them both tumbling down the last few steps.

Just in time. As he suspected, the tren had already dispatched the dwarven guard. Even as Danilo spoke, the creature reached back into the alcove and hauled out two objects: a small shield and a disembodied dwarven leg- still booted. The tren hurled the latter at the attacking humans.

The gory weapon whirled over them as they fell. It crashed into the stairs with enough force to splinter wood.

Arilyn rolled and came up on her feet. She came in hard and high, sword flashing with a quick, three-stroke attack. Her moonblade clattered against the wooden shield as the tren deftly parried each blow. The creature danced back a step, then leaned forward and swiped at her with one long arm. She dodged the blow and riposted with a quick thrust. The moonblade sank deep into the tren's forearm.

With astonishing speed, the creature pivoted on one massive foot, yanking its arm free of the sword-and pulling Arilyn along. Before she could get her feet back under her, the tren hit her with a brutal shield smash.

The slight half-elf went reeling back. Danilo stepped in, his hands empty but for a bit of bright green silk. He hurled the fabric square toward the creature. Snarling contemptuously, the tren swiped at the puny missile.

However, Danilo had already begun the spell. The silk caught in midair, just beyond the slashing claws, and began to spread into a thin globe, rapidly encircling the tren.

The creature backed toward the open door, thrashing about with shield and claws in an attempt to shred its prison. Glistening beads of black oil began to gleam along its fang-lined jowls. A hint of its foul scent-weapon seeped into the room just before the magic globe closed in.

Rank, swirling mist filled the globe, and the tren's struggles redoubled as it sought to escape the full force of its own stench. The creature quickly saw that it could not escape, and its yellow eyes darted from the young wizard to the angry half-elf. Arilyn stalked in, sword level and ready.