He was 33 when came the time of his first patrol. He was to be sent along with another mage, younger than him, a priestess and two fighters of melee-magthere. The priestess was already used to the patrol and was taking the lead of them. They were expected to obey her every command, and Samal was more than happy to oblige.

Over the past years he had done his best to master the arcane art, but never really came close to master the art of offensive spells, so they had sent a second mage with them, to cover for his inability. In the last six years, though, he had honed his clerical ability. The young cleric was able to heal wound probably as well as the priestess in front of him, but knew better than do it. He knew he could, even if never had tried yet, knowing was enough for him, he didn't felt the need to do it, male just didn't get power from Lloth and worship of another deity was sentenced of death.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Asked one of the fighters as he walked up close to the young mage.

Samal looked at the priestess, but felt nothing about her. Though he knew he was in age to feel sexual interest, female just didn't appeal to him. The fighter beside him was, though.

Strongly built, tall and very muscular, he had glowing blood red eyes, something that the blue and green eyed drow had always found appealing to him.

"Probably," he answered softly.

"You know, pretty soon they are going to ask us favour, if you get my meaning. I wouldn't mind her asking me anything," continued the fighter with a smirk.

Knowing of his own abnormal features, Samal didn't expect any of the female to ask for him, and he wasn't about to complain about it. He didn't want to have any more contact with Lloth priestess than absolutely needed. The young priest didn't want them to find about his worshiping of Corellon Larethian.

The stealthy fighter the priestess had sent scouting ahead came back at that moment, cutting off this awkward instant he did not want to face. He had no wish to explain to the strong fighter that his interest laid more with someone like him than with any priestess he would ever cross.

The alarmed look on the scout face startled them.

"Gnome," he said as soon as he arrived. "A good dozen of them, further down the corridor. They are mining adamantine with very few guards watching over them."

"Easy prey then," laughed the priestess. "Samal, prepare your protective spells. We may have a little fun it seems. Get yourself ready."

Samal started casting some defensive spells on his comrades. Some that would ward off some of the damage from blade or hammer, and some other which would enhance their natural resistance to magic.

"It is done, don't expect me to cast offensive spells during the fight. I never really got to master these types of incantations," murmured Samal respectfully.

"Nor are you expected of," sneered the woman. "Gromph have already told me about your… limitation. The reason why we have Hurz'Raen with us. Just stay back and make sure not to get yourself killed. Use your protective ward as you deem necessary."

He nodded and let the others pass before him, then followed from afar, closing the march.

Not much further the drow patrol started to hear the sound of hammer and pick against stone. Just like the drow, the gnomes didn't need any light source, trusting their darkvision to work the mineral vein along the caves wall.

The priestess silently signed them to stop, and started to give strategic direction to the party.

Samal was to stay behind and cover the retreat of any wounded comrade. He mentally prepared the spell that would allow him to invoke a barrier between himself and the deep gnomes.

The younger wizard started to levitate, and hid himself among the stalactite of the ceiling, giving him a better vantage point. The two fighters started creeping along the wall to their right, the priestess also joined in, casting a spell.

Samal waited to hear the sound of his very first battle. He didn't wait for long…

As soon as the priestess finished her casting, a swarm of spider appearing before her, the young wizard, still levitating, used on of his wand to invoke a fireball in the cave ahead.

The screams, which echoed from further in the corridor, made Samal skin crawl. He could hear the cry of pain and the sound of sword clashing. Into all of this tumult he could also hear the priestess laugh, and her praise to her evil goddess.

He silently muttered a prayer to Corellon, asking for forgiveness to be part of this massacre. The young priest felt he should do something, but what could he do that would not mean his own demise. He clenched the symbol hidden under his robe and tried to concentrate on the orders called out by their patrol leader.

"Don't let any escape, chase those who ran off in this tunnel. You," she pointed to Samal, "secure this area with a magical barrier. We don't want any reinforcement to arrive in our back."

"I will, mistress."

The odd-matched eye of the young wizard settled on the carnage that lay in the cave, as he walked in. a good half a score of svirfneblins were laying dead, they didn't have time to set a real defence when the drow attacked them.

Once the priestess and the other males were gone, Samal knelt beside the gnome and started praying again. This time asking for the gnomes soul to be led all the way to their heaven.

On the corner of his eye, he saw a movement, one of the gnomes he first had thought dead was now trying to turn himself up. From were he was, Samal saw that the blast of the fireball had burned most of the miner's face, leaving him completely blind.

In the deepest of his heart, Samal knew what he had to do. Not as a drow, for that would have meant to finish off the dying svirfneblin, but as a follower of Corellon Larethian. This was his first test as a cleric, the first test of his heart, no priest of the elvish god would let an innocent die if something could be done about it.

He slowly and silently walked over to the blinded gnome.

"Don't move, and don't make a noise. They are gone, but will return here shortly," he whispered in the trading language of the Underdark.

"Who are you?" Asked the gnome in return.

"Someone who can help, and who wants to help," said Samal, adding the second part knowing that it was even more important than the fact that en could. "I can heal you, I think, then you can leave this place as fast and as silently as you can."

The young priest had never yet tried to do any spell usually offered by his god, he didn't know if it would work or not. The only test he had done with his clerical ability had been to banish some shadow he had encountered in Sorcere. But he had to try.

Then it felt it, the warmth of his hand, the tingling against his chest where his holy symbol was touching his skin. A low glow emanated form his hands as the healing started. He looked at the gnome eyes as the burned skin healed, becoming grey again, then looked at the color coming back to the gnome's eyes, giving him back his vision.

Grey eyes met green and blue eyes.

"You are drow," said the gnome.

"I am."

"Why?"

"There's no time for any of that. You should leave, now, before they come back."

The gnome raised to his feet then started away, looking to the strange drow over his shoulder, looking at its even stranger eyes.

Heterochromia, he thought, that's rare. Maybe it's a sign he really isn't like the others of his race.

Samal watched the gnome as he left. A sight of relief left his lip when he saw the form blend with the darkness.

Deep in his heart Samal knew he had done the good thing, he knew that the gods, his gods, were happy with his choice of action.

That night, he dreamt again, dreamt of Arvandor, of the elvish gods dancing under the soft light of the moon.

They stopped their dance and turned toward him, all of them, looking at him. Then they gestured for him to join them, to join their dance.

As he made his first step toward them, the dream ended.

He woke up in his room of Sorcere, staring at the empty walls and at the scrolls pilled upon his desk.

He sighed and went back to his reverie.