I wish I could have asked the captain where the lost
ships-went! But I couldn't give myself away.
I had brought some food with me, since I didn't know
how long I'd have to remain hidden aboard the ship. At
the start of the journey, I pricked my ears up at every
creak of the boards and at each elven voice, but after a
time, lulled by the rocking of the sea, I fell asleep. The
journey after that has a dreamlike quality. I know I
must have awoken, eaten, slept, and taken care of other
necessities-at least my food was all eaten by journey's
end-but I don't recall the specifics. I only know that
at some point the ship stopped, and someone took
the basket in which I was hidden and placed it on a
sandy beach.WHAT I SAW
I felt it before I saw it. With the barest glimmer of
golden light through the basket weave all that I could
see, Evermeet took my breath way. Coiled in the basket
like a snake, with cramps in every limb, I was desper-
ate not to give myself away, yet I could feel the magic
of Evermeet seep through my body, soothing aching
limbs and easing guilty conscience. When I could
breathe again, I gasped. And that was how the elf dis-
covered me.
The blind elf, whose beloved treasures I'd displaced
to take my journey, pulled me from his basket, and
when he did so, his eyes were clear as diamonds and
just as hard. I thought for sure that I was dead, and on
seeing my surroundings, I can say with all my heart
that I didn't care. Had the elf killed me on the spot, my
soul would have gone to Gari and demanded a ship
so that I could sail right back to Evermeet. My dumb
wonderment caused the elf to turn and look, and he too
was enraptured.
As to what we beheld, well, imagine a place of stag-
gering natural beauty and impossible elven artifice, an
alien realm as distant and beautiful as the stars, but as
much a part of you as your own dreams-part heaven,- I'd like to say we shared a moment there, the elf and
I. Perhaps in recognition of that, he didn't kill me.
It was over all too soon. I was put back on the boat,
returned to the world, and warned never to try any-
thing so foolish again-on pain of death. And I don't
think I will-at least not until I'm getting up there in
years. Then I'll keep my eyes peeled for elves with
cloudy eyes looking west!
Now, see? Wouldn't you have liked to have been a
gnome's boots and touched Evermeet, even for just a few
beats of the heart?
TOME OF
FEVWILO LORE
Independent Realms 73 Dragonlance
I HAVE WANDERED THESE LANDS FOR LONGER THAN
you've been alive, caravan master. I say this not to some-
how lord these years over you, but so that you understand
that when I say your proposed "short cut" leads onry to the
bloody demise of yourself and your work hands, you will
believe me, because I have seen others make the same as-
sumption, and die the same deaths.- Aedyn Graymantle,
to Wundrith Parr, Waterdhavian caravan master
Though there are myriad nations, kingdoms, and
city-states scattered across the length and breadth of
Faen1n, it would be a dangerous mistake to assume that
all of the lands in and between those places are tamed.
Travel a short way beyond most civilized places, and one
finds oneself in the midst of wilderness haunted by crea-
tures deadly and foul.
The information below is excerpted from Far from the
Misty Hills, a treatise on far-flung places in the North,
composed by one Aedyn Graymantle, a moon elf ranger
who hails from Evereska. In her years of braving the
wilds, Aedyn has acted as guide, caravan guard, body-
guard, and trailblazer.BOARESKYR BRIDGE
Boareskyr Bridge stands on the Trade Way and is the
only consistently safe crossing over the Winding Water
for more than a hundred miles in either direction. This
alone makes it remarkable, but there, in the midst of a
wilderness with nothing to set it apart for greatness, a
mortal man murdered Bhaal, the god of murder. This is
no tall tale. Even a century after Bhaal's blood was shed
there, the river's waters run black and foul for miles
west of the bridge.
Adding to the location's sacred nature, Cyric, the man
who killed Bhaal, was himself elevated to godhood.
Although he proved to be a malign power, statues of
both Cyric and Bhaal were erected on the ends of the
bridge, the two gods facing each other (though it is said
Cyric stabbed Bhaal in the back). About a century ago,
fanatics of Mystra tore down the statues and flung their
stones in the river, but fearing retribution for such sac-
rilege, the merchants who use the bridge pooled funds
to have them rebuilt in grander style than before. Now
each god stands atop his own decorated archway that
serves as entrance to the bridge.
Boareskyr Bridge is named for a long-ago adventurer
who built the original bridge and used it as the center
of a small kingdom, which also bore his name, north
and east of the Trade Way, though it lasted only a few
decades before falling to threats from the Fields of the
Dead. The bridge serves as a connection between the
lands of the North and the Western Heartlands.
The enormous black granite bridge is wide enough
that two wagons can pass one another going opposite
directions, and its waist-high ramparts are thicker than
some castle walls. On most days of the summer and