linger by the elf tower, to see if their mysterious host might reappear. He'd never dreamed that he would meet an elf, let alone a lord of elven-kind, so close to Maerchlin. Ancient ruins, elven magic … he'd dreamed that someday he'd see these things with his own eyes. If I leave this place, he wondered, will I ever see them again?
He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. Despite his curiosity, it was best for Eriale and he to move on quickly and make the most of their lucky break while the hunters were off their trail. 'Come on. Fineghal's not here, so I guess we're free to go.'
Eriale frowned but agreed. 'Where are we going?'
'South, I think. All of the Maerchwood lies ahead of us in that direction. There's a lot of forest to hide in.'
They picked their way out of the tower, circling once to take in the full extent of the wreckage. Aeron decided it must have been a slender and graceful structure in its day, easily as tall as the turrets of Raedel Keep but much more elegant. It seemed sad that it stood no longer. With one last glance, he squared his shoulders to face the day's march.
'Aeron!' Eriale reached out for his arm and pointed back at the tower. There, on the fallen wall, sat the white wolfhound of the night before. It seemed much more solid and tangible by daylight, as if its ghostly form had returned to its own rightful body. The hound barked once and trotted down from the old stones, heading south. It paused to look at them, wagged its tail, and barked again. 'I think she wants us to follow her,' Eriale said.
Aeron glanced around. The forest he knew, the forest he'd grown up in, still surrounded him. But the old elven ruins and the white hound beckoned to him, emblems of a mystery he'd never suspected. He turned without a sound and trotted after the wolfhound, Eriale just a step behind. The hound led them deeper into the forest, choosing faint game runs that Aeron might have missed without her guidance. She stayed well in front of them, sometimes pressing so far ahead that all Aeron could make out was a glimmer of silver in the shadows beneath the trees.
After an hour's march, steep walls of moss-covered rock rose on either side of them. The sound of rushing water grew louder as the hound beckoned them on, now prancing eagerly. They finally emerged into a bowl-shaped gorge. A tall cascade plummeted down the opposite wall, pooling beneath the wet, gray rock. Cold and clear, a stream ran south out of the vale, sluicing over a flat sheet of bedrock at the base of the escarpment. Above Aeron, the forest clung to the lip of the gorge, and an ephemeral rainbow shimmered in the morning light. He gasped in delight, sensing the cool spray on his face.
Sitting cross-legged before the misty plume, eyes closed and hands folded, Fineghal waited. He glanced up and rose to greet his hound as she barked and played in the water that ran past his feet. 'My thanks, Baillegh,' he said quietly. Then he turned to Aeron and Eriale, springing lightly from boulder to boulder as he came down to meet them. His garb had changed in the daylight to a deep green and russet brown. Aeron could still sense the otherworldly aura mantling the elf lord, but it struck him now as a sense of health, vigor, or rightness-Fineghal belonged here. 'Welcome, Aeron Morieth and Eriale of Maerchlin. You honor me by accepting my invitation.'
Aeron couldn't think of any gracious response. Instead, he asked, 'Where are we?'
'This is my home. Or one of them, anyway. All of the Maerchwood is my home, but I require some place to abide. I took the liberty of coming ahead, but I see that Baillegh showed you the way.' The elf's expression was difficult to read, wry and self-deprecating, yet not bitter. He gestured behind him to a small satchel that lay beside where he'd been waiting. 'If you have not yet eaten, I've some breakfast to share.'
'Thank you, Lord Fineghal,' Aeron said. 'I'm hungry.'
Fineghal held up a hand. 'Please. I am simply Fineghal, and I'll have no one at my table call me lord.' He sat down on a low shelf of stone, and Aeron and Eriale joined him. From the satchel, he produced a number of small cakes, apples and pears, honey, cheese, and a flagon of fruited wine. While they ate, Aeron related the story of his encounter with Phoros and subsequent flight. Fineghal listened, his eyes never leaving Aeron's face.
When Aeron finished, Fineghal looked toward the north and Maerchlin. 'They hunt for you still, Aeron. Fortunately they can't find your trail from the tower to this place.'
'Another enchantment?' Aeron asked.
'The tower was a place of refuge many years ago. Those who came to it in need were not meant to be found or followed.' Fineghal seemed lost in his recollections for a long moment before he returned his attention to Aeron and Eriale. 'So, young Aeron, what do you intend to do now?'
'I can't go home,' Aeron said. 'I can't even stay close by. I'll have to go somewhere far from here. I'd thought I might live off the land until things calm down, but it might be years before I can return to Maerchlin.'
'If ever,' Fineghal replied. 'You have no kin?'
'No, my-er, no, Fineghal. I was orphaned when I was young. My father, Stiche Morieth, led a revolt against Lord Raedel twelve years ago. He was hanged for it, and many other people with him. Including my mother.'
'It seems hard to believe that the Morieths could ever come to grief in Maerchlin,' Fineghal mused. 'I remember a time when the Morieths were held in great honor, both by your people and by mine. In fact, there were Morieths who married elven folk a long time ago.'
Aeron grimaced. 'Phoros and his friends used to call me a half-breed for that.'
'I can see traces of elven blood in your features. It must have been hard for you, Aeron. In my experience, Chessentans are not forgiving of such faults.'
They fell silent for a time, listening to the wind in the trees and the rushing of the water.
'Fineghal, you said the tower was a place of refuge,' Eriale asked. 'What did you mean by that?'
The elf glanced at her. 'Centuries ago, the Maerchwood was home to Calmaercor, a small elven realm akin to the great kingdoms of the Chondalwood or distant Cormanthyr,' he said. 'In those days, elven lands such as Calmaercor were scattered across all of Faerun. But the elven folk have many enemies-dragons and orcs, giants and goblins, and even human, with their lands that grew up around our borders. The people of Calmaercor fought the troll kings of the mountains that men call the Riders to the Sky, the fire creatures of the Smoking Mountains, and finally the power of ancient Unther. Our forest, which once stretched from the Adder Peaks to the Sky Riders, has been burned, logged, and settled a piece at a time. And we have been diminished while our old foes have grown more numerous.
'Unlike the elves of Myth Drannor or the hidden fastnesses of other lands, we didn't place our faith in cities or fortresses. Instead, we built watchtowers to hide our people in times of danger. The first were built to thwart the trolls and salamanders, but as humans migrated into what is now Chessenta and brought axe and fire against our forest, we hid from them as well. In time the towers all fell, sniffed out by human sorcery and pulled down one by one.'
'What happened to Calmaercor?' Aeron asked.
'Two hundred years past, we decided to withdraw from the Maerchwood and leave these lands to the Chessentans. I am one of the few who remain.'
'Why do you stay?' asked Eriale.
Fineghal straightened and swept one arm out to indicate the cascade, the glistening rock, the rich forest. 'I cannot bear the thought of leaving,' he said. 'I miss my people, but having lived under these trees all my life, I can't imagine living anywhere else. There is magic here still.'
'You must have lived here a long time,' Eriale said.
Fineghal looked up at the sky overhead. It was as bright as burnished brass, promising another day of summer heat. 'As humans reckon time, about a thousand years,' he said quietly. 'The very stars have shifted since my youth. Yet it seems like no more than a long summer's day.'
Aeron stared at the elven lord. A thousand years … if he lived to be a hundred, Fineghal would have lived his life span ten times over. 'By Tchazzar,' he murmured, awestruck. 'A thousand years …'
Fineghal smiled sadly. 'Time doesn't touch the elves in the way it touches humans. Although you may find, Aeron, that your elven blood is stronger than your human blood. I suspect that the years will pass lightly for you.' With a fluid ease of motion, Fineghal came to his feet and stood over Aeron and Eriale. 'I am afraid that I must leave now. I have responsibilities elsewhere within the forest's bounds. You are welcome to remain here, both of you, as long as you like. No humans will find you here. Come and go as you please, Eriale. Aeron, you would be wise to abide here for a time to avoid those who seek you. Perhaps matters will settle themselves in a few months.'
'You're leaving us here?' Eriale asked.
The elf nodded gravely. 'I ask only that you do not reveal this place to anyone else and that you treat it with care. Harm nothing that lives within this dell.' He paused and then added, 'I may be back in a month or two,
