It was cold, dark, and claustrophobic within the tube. The door had closed behind them, Rowen assumed, but they had been moving so fast she wasn't sure if the sudden lack of light was from the closing door or their distance from the opening.

Suddenly, there was no more tube beneath them, and Rowen and the little girl plummeted five to ten feet down into a pillow.

Rowen took in their surroundings using a dim light that glowed as she got her breath back. When Rowen finally registered that they were in a cart that seemed to be made entirely of memory foam but was softly glowing, she sighed in relief. She was safe.

Her relief quickly turned to fear for her friends.

Rowen, reminded of her pint sized aquaintance by a mournful hiccup, glanced down to find the child sucking her thumb, eyes glazed, curled against Rowen. When she gently set her down, the girl curled into the fetal position. After a short mental discussion with herself, Rowen let her be.

She stood up carefully and gazed down over the edge of the cart. She saw nothing but blackness. The same went for everything around her, except the faintly glowing carts. She watched as færies and humaniods faded into existence as they flew from the tubes above the carts--even they were cloaked in blackness. Most of the færies immediately began to fly, but when they realized there was a cart to catch them, they carefully lowered themselves into it.

Finally, the carts jerked forward, then slowly began moving much more smoothly. Rowen looked again at the lost child, who was now restlessly asleep. Rowen couldn't rest.

A shadow moved to her left and she whipped her head around just in time to see Ayren buzzing past. "Ayren!" she shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth as the noise echoed loudly in the near silence.

Ayren stopped and turned. "Oh, Rowen! I was looking for you, actually," he admitted. 

"Where's Jason? And how did you know to find us here? How do you know about this place? Why are you looking for us?"

Ayren laughed and held up a hand. "I'll explain soon. Anyway, you have no clue where Jason is? Do you know if he's behind or in front of you?"

"I don't know," Rowen said desperately, her voice cracking. "Find him, please."

Ayren nodded briskly and took off. When he returned, he found Rowen rocking the now-awake little girl on her lap.

"What's your name?" asked Rowen in the sugary sweet voice typically used around small children and cute animals.

"Amarinda."

"That's a pretty name!"

Ayren cleared his throat. "I found Jason. He's fine. A woman in the cart next to his is sobbing hysterically about her lost daughter, though."

Rowen hefted the toddler up into his arms, and her carefully flew off. Rowen smiled at the scene: an indifferent government ambassador carefully and gently cradling a baby in arms strong enough to snap a man's arm in two...

When Ayren returned a second time, he landed in the cart, making it sway a little more profoundly, and sat down cross-legged. "Jason threatened me about being alone with you."

Rowen blushed. "Ignore him. He's...weird stuff's happening with him."

"Well, maybe he can let his tension out. We could go a few rounds."

Rowen dubiously eyed the færie's bulging muscles, thought of Jason's bony form, and shook her head vigorously, allowing a small smile to shade her lips.

Ayren laughed quietly. "I'm completely joking. I would never hurt you. Or your friends," he added as if on an afterthought. All the humor was quickly wiped from his gaze, and he met Rowen's gaze steadily until she shifted uncomfortably and looked away, blushing yet again.

*

It was easy--so easy--to fool her. One good-looking face and a few romantic words and she was quite obviously under his spell.

Ayren tried desperately to feel victorious or, at the very least, contempt for how easy this job was turning out to be. He couldn't quite do it.

*

What was wrong with her? This was not the time to become a starry-eyed little girl over some good looks. She was able to think of one sensible question, however.

"What's happening upstairs?" With that came a thunderstorm of other questions, swirling desperately around her brain.

"An orc attack. They happen quite frequently. They've never been so strong, however..." Ayren trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. Rowen saw something out of place flash in his eyes.

Victory?

It disappeared quickly.

Why would Ayren be feeling victorious?

They fell silent, each preoccupied with their own dark thoughts.

"So what's different this time?" Rowen finally asked.

"We don't know yet," said Ayren carefully, sounding as if he was delicately picking and choosing his words.

Something's up, Rowen thought. She decided to ask just a few more questions.

"How did you get in here?"

"Government secret," Ayren said, tapping the side of his nose knowingly.

"How did you know we were here?"

"Knowledge of government protocols."

"How did you get access into here?"

"Being a member of the færie court."

Rowen decided she would let it all go for now. She yawned and lay flat on her back. No use worrying about it now. Ayren would tell me if my life was in danger.

I know he would.

*

Ayren watched Rowen falling asleep out of the corner of his eye. She was cute. He would give her that.

Shame her life had to get mixed up in all of this. Pretty faces don't matter on the battlefield.

*

"Wake up!"

The hissed words yanked Rowen from her dream, which she forgot upon waking, and sent her leaping to her feet.

"What? Is it an attack?" she demanded.

"No," said Ayren, chuckling. "We've arrived."

"Arrived where?" Rowen stood and gasped.

There was a whole city below the castle!

It looked old and abandoned, in the middle of repairs. The roof of the cavern stretched far above them, and was reinforced with steel beams and colossal metal pillars.

Many of the buildings had tarps spread over their roofs. New doors stuck painfully out against the wear and tear of the city, along with several watch towers that had guards standing stiffly in them. Rowen decided that the guards must have flew ahead of the procession of carts to await them--there was no way they lived here 24/7.

Rowen realized that the city probably wasn't in the midst of repairs. This wouldn't be an evacuation zone if any harmful critters lived here, and the elements couldn't reach them, so the tarps had been tacked up merely for the feeling of security.

"What is this place?" breathed Rowen.

"Its original name was lost hundreds of years ago. For years, a very advanced civilization lived down here, granting access to only a few outsiders. They're also responsible for the SaveHaven. One day, about fifty years ago, someone came down to check on them and try to get in...only to discover them gone. Vanished without a trace. The furniture's still here, but any personal belongings have disappeared. Police are still working on the case. It's called now simply Safe City."

Rowen shivered at the ominous story, but still felt excitement flutter in her stomach as the carts began lowering. A whole new city to explore! But in the back of her mind, the fear stayed, lurking at the corners of even the most upbeat thoughts she could produce, eating away at her like a parasite.

She was a white girl living in a first world country and town. This was by far the most dangerous thing that had ever happened to her or would ever happen.

Rowen thought to check the time. Turning to Ayren, she asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

Ayren glanced at a watch on his wrist that Rowen had failed to notice earlier. "It's 7:45 PM."

Rowen groaned. "My mom is probably worried sick. Do you think she's called the police?"

"If she's a decent mother, then yes," Ayren said, looking uncomfortable about the topic of discussion.

"I can't believe it's this late," Rowen mused. "You sorta lose all sense of time if you can't see the sun or moon."

"That's what watches are for," said Ayren in a slightly singsong tone. The cart stopped yet again and Ayren flew up to scope out the situation.

"The færies are leaving now," he called. "A woman is flying flighters to the flightless."

"Flying flighters to the flightless," murmured Rowen, and she almost smiled.

Almost.

*

Ayren could tell that Rowen was fading fast. Even with her nap, she seemed worn out, from stress and plain terror. Thrown into another dimension and forced to flee after a mere hour or so...but she was crucial to the plan; he wasn't letting fifteen years of preparation (and his contributing five) go to waste over one tired, homesick girl.

He stole a flighter and brought it back to her. "Ambassador privileges," he lied, smiling his most winning smile.

Rowen smiled, yawned, and inclined her head in thanks. She maneuvered the flighter (a very old and clunky model) out of her cart and followed Ayren as he flew through the streets of the city.

*

A/n: I am not one for leaving author's notes at the ends of chapters, but that "pretty faces don't matter on the battlefield" line made me laugh really hard because I kept thinking of Helen of Troy...okay, bye.