He watched in amazement as the el'tael absorbed the arcane attack, dissipating its force. The half-elf wanted to follow it up with another blast, but suddenly the Song shifted in to a different key. It swelled within him once more, but this time Taenaran felt it pull at him, as if it were demanding something. He had managed to settle into its rhythms previously, but this time it wanted more than just his cooperation. This time it pulled at the deepest parts of who he was, tugging at the core of his spirit. Fear ran through him like a cataract and something within cried out against the Song's terrible need. He clawed for freedom against its power-then silence filled his mind.

Taenaran stood there for a moment, stunned, then Arvaedra's sword cut toward him almost too fast to see. With surprising force, she knocked the half-elf's sword out of his hand and slammed the flat of her blade into his face.

Light exploded behind his eyes. When at last it finally cleared, Taenaran found himself lying on the ground with blood trickling from his nose. He heard Arvaedra's voice, as if from down a long tunnel, speaking rapidly to the gathered tael, as he struggled to his feet. A strong arm stabilized him when at last the half-elf managed to rise. It took Taenaran a moment to realize it belonged to Arvaedra. The elder elf said nothing as she motioned for him to return to the line of kneeling tael, but Taenaran could see the pride burning behind her eyes.

The half-elf wiped blood from his nose as he knelt once more. Fear and satisfaction warred within him, but even in the midst of that battle, Taenaran could not quite keep the smile from his face.

Aelrindel watched his son battle Arvaedra-and winced several times as the master nearly caught the beleaguered tael with a swift stroke of her blade. Centuries of battle and mastery of his art allowed the First Hilt to sense the moment when Taenaran discovered his own Song. He was surprised, at first, by the power of it-especially when he nearly managed to land a blow against Arvaedra. Tears threatened to blur the elf's vision, but he fought them back. It would not do for the leader of the bladesingers to show any overt reaction to his son's performance.

His resolve was tested, however, when he sensed Taenaran's inner struggle. Aelrindel felt, rather than heard, the moment when his son's Song fell apart, making him an easy target for Arvaedra's attack. He would have taken an involuntary step forward as Taenaran pitched toward the ground, but the sound of a voice behind him stopped the First Hilt in his tracks.

"Hmm," Faelyn mumbled as the half-elf struck the ground hard.

"He did well, Faelyn, even you have to admit that," Aelrindel said, not sparing his friend a backward glance.

"He did," the bladesinger agreed, "until the end. It is his human half, Ael. It struggles too hard against its death."

With that, Faelyn spun on his heels and walked away, leaving Aelrindel alone with the bitter turn of his thoughts.

The Year of Wild Magic

(1372 DR)

Death stalked the cavern.

Taen could see it clearly in the newborn light-razor-sharp teeth, a powerful, scaled hide, and a hideous cartilaginous tail that whipped around the confines of the high-ceilinged cave. It moved slowly, its broad, ridged head casting from side to side, peering down at the party with burning orange eyes. The creature's nostrils flared, sucking the fetid odor of the cave in with short snuffs.

The half-elf moved slowly, careful not to spook the beast. He watched as the creature tracked his movements, its tail weaving slowly, undulating like a charmed serpent above its head. When Taen caught sight of the barbed stinger gleaming wetly in the arcane light, he let out a curse.

"Wyvern," Roberc whispered. "Very dangerous." Were they not in such a precarious situation, Taen would have laughed at the fighter's all-too-unnecessary comment. Though not as massive as their draconic cousins, and quite a bit more dull witted, wyverns were powerful beasts whose massive teeth and razor-sharp claws could easily eviscerate the best-armored opponent. Its poison-tipped tail, however, presented the clearest danger to them all. Assassins all across Faerun coveted the dread creature's poison; it could kill a human in mere heartbeats.

The half-elf glanced around at his companions. Borovazk stood with axe and warhammer held steady. Taen watched as he tracked the wyvern's movements, obviously looking for a vulnerable spot in the massive beast's thick brown-scaled armor. Roberc had already dismounted and stood easily by the half-elf's side, his sword and shield ready. Marissa stood behind them, raising the Staff of the Red Tree in the air. Above them in the darkness of the cavern's heights, Rusella flapped noisily as she circled the site of impending battle.

The wyvern stopped moving and hissed again, the high-pitched noise reverberated in the massive chamber, echoing and folding in upon itself, sounding to Taen's ears like the screams of a thousand children.

"Ready," he whispered to his companions. When they all nodded, he continued. "Wait for my signal." Carefully, he reached into his belt pouch.

"Now!" he shouted and flung out his hand. Light bloomed once again from the fingertips of the half-elf's hand, this time leaping from his outstretched fingers to the creature's eyes.

With a mighty hiss, the wyvern reared up on its hind legs, unfurling nearly fifty feet of leathery, cracked wings and shaking its head to dislodge the glowing ball of illumination that pulsated between its eyes. At that moment, Borovazk let out a deep-throated cry and sprang forward. His gleaming axe cut deep into the beast's scaled hide, unleashing a flow of steaming blood that pulsed hotly from the wound, spraying him with its dark, crimson hue. The explosion of fluid did little to slow the ranger's attacks. The Rashemi gave another cry and brought the solid weight of his warhammer down upon the wyvern's left hind leg. The sound of splintering bone echoed in the cavern, soon overpowered by the beast's screaming hiss.

Not wasting any time, Roberc barreled toward the creature, whirling his short sword in a deadly arc. His first cut rebounded off the wyvern's hardened scales, but the second pierced the creature's armored hide and parted the soft skin underneath, puncturing muscle and tissue.

Though blinded, the wyvern lashed out with a sweep of its massive head. Powerful jaws snapped sharp-edged teeth mere handspans above Borovazk's head. The now-chanting ranger ducked belatedly beneath the attack, as if just realizing his danger. Taen would have called out a warning, but the wyvern's powerful tail struck downward, forcing the half-elf to skitter backward; it struck the very stone where he had just been standing with a shower of earth and pebbles.

"Are you all right?" Marissa called out.

Taen stumbled to his feet and nodded affirmatively. The half-elf knew that his light spell wouldn't hold for much longer. If they had any chance of emerging from this battle alive, they would have to finish off the wyvern fast.

Just then, the beast shifted its body, turning quickly to its left. The sudden movement caught its attackers by surprise, and Taen watched in horror as both Borovazk and Roberc fell beneath the shifting bulk of the wyvern's torso. Still blinded, it extended its wounded left leg slightly, as if searching for its attackers.

Borovazk rolled to his feet with surprising speed, avoiding the taloned claws of the wyvern. Roberc, however, couldn't quite escape. Within a heartbeat, the creature had him pinned beneath the wicked curve of its talon. The wyvern's tail rose up for a final strike.