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"What is this place?" Heldor asked as he approached the pool. "Where does the water come from?"
Lebbon followed slowly behind, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "An ancient place. A place of old gods and old magic," he replied in a reedy voice. "None of the three kingdoms has ever claimed this place, and no histories speak of its origin. There are only stories that vary from teller to teller that hint at what this place is ...or was."
Heldor ran across the plaza, or crossroads ... whatever this place had once been, and peered over the low stone that ran across one of the ancient archways. Water flowed out from below and to the cliff-side where it glided almost silently down the narrow waterfall they had seen hours before. "Is it coming from the well? What feeds the well?"
"Boy, these are questions none have answers for. This place is a mystery that even the most learned have failed to puzzle out." Lebbon sat down by the pool with a sigh and dipped a hand in the cool waters, "Perhaps the knowledge of this place is lost to all time. Lost like leaves down a river, or the memories of the dead." Lebbon sighed again regretfully.