“What is this place?” Claire asked no one in particular.
All four of them stood in awe as they took in the ruins. Massive stone columns lay toppled in the grass. Gray bricks were strewn about, the walls long since destroyed. In the center of it all, a complex of buildings surrounded a great big one, their intricate carvings and arches still mostly intact, though weathered with age. Green covered everything as the forest slowly reclaimed the land: vines crawled up walls, mold covered stone, grass swallowed walkways. A massive tree sprouted up from the center. Abandoned, and falling down, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.
Mid afternoon sunlight filled the clearing. It was a surprise, stumbling across such a thing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest. However Claire had a sneaking suspicion one silver-haired elf may have led them in the right direction. He never said a word, but he seemed to know… things. A lot more than he let on.
Aeron knelt in front of a gray marble slab, and brushed the vines away to reveal words carved in another language. Curved and flowing, the letters didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen before.
“All are welcome,” Aeron said quietly, his brow knitting together.
“It was a Haven,” Farron stated matter of factly. His arms were crossed over his chest while a foot rested on part of a low wall, his face calm, showing no signs of surprise.
Just as she’d suspected. He knew all along what and where this place was. Claire sighed. It was really beginning to be just too much.
“Haven?” she asked, since no one else seemed like they were going to. Was she the only one that didn’t know, again?
“Sanctuaries, places of refuge and healing. There was one in every major city, Lendon had one once before it was destroyed. They were built by the elves, where the magic in the land was strong. It helped with the healing,” Farron said.
Everyone listened in silence. Perhaps they didn’t know either. It was a satisfying feeling, if there ever was one, to finally not be the only one left out in the dark for once.
“They were considered sacred places, temples of some sort,” Farron continued. “Back in the old days, magic was more… revered.” He was quiet for a moment as his eyes swept over the decaying ruins. “They were the first to go during the war.”
There was another silence. And again, she was the one who broke it. “Why?”
“Because they helped humans.” With that, he stepped toward the ruins, walking down the overgrown path, not bothering to wait for the others.
Claire exchanged a glance with Bren, but his face remained unreadable. For a while, she just stood in awe as she looked at the vast ruins, everyone else abandoning her to explore. She’d never seen anything so tragic and beautiful at the same time. If this was a place for healing, then why would they do such a thing and destroy it? Though, she already knew the answer to that one. To destroy your own creation, especially one built for good… It was cruel. But then again all wars were.
Her fingers brushed over rough stone as she walked past arched pillars on either side of the covered corridor. Hints of red paint clung in patches, surviving against the elements and time. Roots sprouted out from between the brick pavement, making the path uneven. She’d already tripped. Twice. Her palms and knees throbbing, she walked slowly, picking her way through the ruins.
Long open corridors linked smaller buildings together in a square around a larger central one, built around a giant tree, almost reminiscent of the forest city. There was no mistaking the origins of this place. Just like the forest, and Lendon, traces of similar architecture were everywhere: curved archways, carved latticework, stonework that would have been impossible without the use of magic.
Bren, Aeron, and the other one were nowhere to be found. Each off on their own exploratory venture. Strange, considering that usually she was hardly ever left alone. Perhaps Aeron was finally beginning to trust her. Or he was in as much awe as she was and just plain forgot about her. She hoped for the first, but deep down she knew it was more the latter.
She sighed. It was always the latter, wasn’t it?
Their loss. And her gain. Now she could freely explore all on her own.
She hopped over the low wall in the corridor, between two pillars, to the central courtyard that surrounded the main building. Grass and wild weeds grew up to her knees and brushed against her boots as she crossed to a dark entrance. Square and dilapidated, the doorway didn’t exactly look inviting. She peeked in, wary of the dark, and the state of the great stone blocks overhead. Light shone at the end of the tunnel. At least that looked promising.
So, with breath held, Claire quickly ran to the end. An inner courtyard greeted her, the roof open to the sky. In the middle stood the huge tree, the top seemingly reaching to the clouds. The great round trunk almost filled the space. In a few years, it would probably outgrow it, crumbling the ruins even more.
Looking up at the tree, she took a deep breath then closed her eyes. Being in this place, somehow she felt calmer. Just slightly. It was hard to describe. Or maybe it wasn’t so much the place, but the absence of the rather masculine presence she was constantly surrounded by. It could get tiring.
Four doorways led out from the courtyard, but it was the one that stood behind the tree that drew her curiosity. A slight sound of trickling water echoed from the opening, so soft that she’d almost missed it. As she drew closer, she peered in.
Instead of a dark corridor, there was a small room, light pouring in from a hole in the roof. On the wall was a fountain, the basin cracked and broken so the water flowed to the floor. Farron knelt on one knee, his back to her.
So that’s where he’d wandered off to. Claire stopped in the doorway, wondering if she should disturb him. He looked engrossed in something, his head bowed, shoulders rounded. Quiet, but somehow tense.
She was just about to turn away, not wanting to disrupt his— or hers, for that matter— peace, when his head jerked to the side. Too late. He’d heard her. Rather quickly, he rose to his feet, his hands clasping the golden chain back around his neck, and tucking the pendant out of sight into his shirt as he turned to face her. His face was the cool mask she’d grown so fond of. Curious. She’d caught him in the middle of something. If she would have thought of it before, it would have been the perfect opportunity to sneak up on the elf and give him the scaring that he needed.
He crossed his arms, waiting for her to start. With what, she wasn’t quite sure. So she settled with: “You say this place was a temple,” she said as she stepped into the room.
Carved reliefs decorated the walls. Tall slender figures faced toward the fountain and the tree carved into the gray stone above it. Green mold circled the pool of water on the floor where it spilled over from the fountain before flowing off to the side of the room in little channels. Clear and clean, the water looked refreshing. Invigorating. And a little too enticing. Almost as if she was being drawn to it.
“But what did they worship?” She tore her eyes away from the fountain to look at the elf.
“Magic,” he said simply. “It was the life force of the land, and therefore all living things. Or so they say.”
“You don’t believe it?”
He shrugged. “It was strong here once, but now it’s fading. Like back in the forest. But everything still looks green, doesn’t it?”
Claire sighed. She should have just kept walking.
“There’s still magic here though. It’s faint, but…” his voice trailed off as he looked around him.
She turned her attention back to the fountain. She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, or what he was getting at. At the moment, the water seemed far more interesting. For some reason. She wasn’t particularly thirsty. Her right hand reached out, feeling the sudden compulsion to touch it, to immerse her hand in it.
Farron’s hand clamped down on her wrist just before it touched the water. She looked up at him, her head slightly cloudy as if she’d just drank a couple glasses of wine. His eyes rested
on the dark mark on her arm, then settled on her face, unreadable as always.
“Sorry,” he murmured, then released her wrist. “Be careful, Claire.”
She knelt down in front of the pool, her hand reaching out once again.
“You could have some sort of reaction to it…”
His voice faded into the background. The water. It looked so clear. The way the light hit it, it looked like it was sparkling. Full of magic. Just like her. Or her arm at least. A slight shock raced through her arm as her fingertips touched the surface, more exhilarating than painful. She dipped her hand under the flow of water, letting the coolness wash over her skin. The blue glow started where the water ran across the mark, dim at first, slowly growing in intensity. The dark lines remained motionless. The ache in her arm, the one she’s had since she started training with the sword, seeped away. Stiff joints relaxed. It was so soothing, that if the pool were big enough, she’d immerse her whole body in it. Let the water take away her worries, if even for just a little bit.
Faintly, she could hear her name being called. Or was it all in her mind? The familiar voice seemed so far away. Muddled. She felt something encircle her wrist before it pulled her hand out from the water, wrenching her back into reality. The voice became clearer.
“Claire,” the elf said, soft but firm. His hand still held onto her wrist.
She blinked a couple times before her mind finally caught up, and looked over at Farron, still half dazed. He knelt beside her, his eyes slightly wide as he studied her.
“That was…” she sighed, her mouth slow to form the words. Not that she knew what to say, or really what just happened. But, before she could even think about what she was going to say next, he pulled her to her feet suddenly and then across the room.
His hand found its way over her mouth, silencing her as he pushed her back against the wall into the shadows. The door to the room stood mere feet from them, but they would never be seen unless someone were to poke their head in and enter.
She looked up at Farron, too shocked to do anything. His head was cocked to the side as he listened. Claire’s pulse picked up. Was it an enemy? Some thieves that used this place as a hideout?
The sound of footsteps finally caught her ear, heels clicking on stone, drawing nearer and nearer. Every couple seconds they stopped, and then resumed. The closer they came, the higher up her heart traveled in her chest. They were alone, whoever it was. Was it the General? It would make the most sense. The glow on her arm had yet to subside, and they’d left their packs near the entrance to the building, so there would be no way to cover it up. If the General found her there, with the elf no less, and a glowing mark on her hand, their charade would be blown.
Claire closed her eyes, hoping the footsteps would just pass them by. Though not as bad as she thought it would be, being this close for so long to the tall elf was making her a bit uncomfortable. His hand still covered her mouth, firm but gentle. She looked up at him again. Quiet and still, she felt like she should be afraid of him. But she wasn’t. Even with all his damn secrets. There was a certain sense of calm about him. Even in dangerous situations, like he’d been through them a dozen times before.
Had he hurt men? She had no doubt about that. Would he hurt her? She doubted he ever would. But still, she couldn’t quite trust his intentions. Not yet.
“Miss Claire?” Aeron’s voice rang though the open courtyard.
Claire relaxed all at once; her shoulders sagged back against the wall. It was just the other one.
Farron looked at her then, his hand still in place on her mouth, but his expression was almost indecipherable. Though, she could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness in those oh-so-blue eyes. Over what, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.
He remained still, waiting for Aeron to pass. Claire pried his hand away from her mouth, but didn’t say anything. It was strange. Why did he want to hide from Aeron? The other elf already knew about the mark.
When the footsteps faded away Farron stepped back, meeting her gaze again. He looked down quickly to the floor in an almost bashful manner.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand.
Claire remained frozen against the wall, still trying to make sense of it all.
“Don’t drink that.” He nodded back toward the fountain and stepped quickly through the doorway, out of sight.
Definitely strange. What got into him?
She held her arm up in front of her. The glow had started to subside. This place, her reaction, the elf. It was all just very peculiar.