The Wellspring (20 page)

Yule reeled internally, but had no sensation
or sense of falling, only that spiritually she succumbed to the
staggering blow. That was why she hadn’t felt the connection she
anticipated when she reached Atlantis. The heartbeat she
instinctively expected to feel was absent—because it was truly
absent!

Their power base crippled, the folk of
Atlantis withdrew from Shangrilonn. In their retreat, they poisoned
the land they could not conquer, closing their collective minds and
memories to the Archetypum. They ripped open a way into another
dimension and magic poured out of Earth, into that empty space.

Yule gasped in disbelief! Normal humans
hadn't been behind the Sunder, it was the rebellious children of
Atlantis! And once they'd torn the Earth in half they joined the
world of normal people where even their diminished powers made them
entities with which to be reckoned, although they kept their
existence secret and allowed magic to become the stuff of myth. But
the children of Atlantis remembered, and when their limited powers
began to wane they knew they had to restore the world.

They pooled their power and called back the
magic they'd banished ten thousand years earlier, just as normal
humans were moving into the Twentieth Century and forgetting magic.
Suddenly, the old world was restored and while normal humans
resisted that restoration at first, they couldn't deny the changes
in the planet they'd only half-known.

Rebellion still burned in the children of
Atlantis, but the magical war that poisoned Shangrilonn was
impossible to wage with their stunted abilities so it became
political, with the descendants of Atlantis seeking the Throne and
control of the world while the descendants of the Archetypum who’d
been stranded outside Shangrilonn during the final battle sought
the next, prophesied Wellspring. The Wellspring would draw magic
back into the world, but the Font from which it poured would
control the flow.

Atlantis wanted the power for
itself—Shangrilonn wanted the power for the world.

Yule found herself gazing into the Eye, and
it gazed back at her, reflected her in its glossy pupil
and—blinked! And she realized it was one of her eyes! She was
looking at herself and seeing herself. . . .and she unraveled into
endless successions until she screamed from vertigo and the
horrible certainty of—not death—eternity!

“It’s all right, Yule! I’ve got you!” Hermes
shouted at her, his arms around her like iron bands as Yule came
back from the terrible knowledge implanted in her mind. “What did
you do to her?” he shouted at the impassive Guides.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt her,”
Jory didn’t mean for this to sound like an accusation, but it
did.

“No pain,” Yule finally gasped, rubbing her
eyes and patting Hermes’ arm. “It didn’t hurt, it was just
so—awful. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Way to fail at that,” Brenna remarked, but
her tone was clearly amiable, like that among people who shared a
disaster averted.

“We each seek the Wellspring,” Lualin spoke
quietly. “Atlantis would corrupt the power and use it to control
the world.”

“We would see it returned to the world, as it
was meant to be,” Honoa added.

“Wouldn’t that mean the people of Atlantis
would also benefit?” Hermes asked, loosening his grip on Yule. “If
power was restored evenly that would mean to them as well.”

“It would,” Honoa affirmed.

“Wouldn’t that just mean another war?” cried
Brenna.

“We do not believe so,” Lualin replied. “The
world and the people in it have changed. Those of Atlantis have
lived so long with lesser powers that it will take them time to
adjust, and in that time perhaps they will be happy with what they
are gifted and continue with their lives in peace.”

“And if there are some who still seek to
strike us down, they will be few in number, certainly not all of
Atlantis. We would triumph,” added Honoa.

“As interesting as all of this is, it doesn’t
explain why they’re so interested in Yule,” Brenna opined. “Don’t
try to deny it,” she added. “All of you Archetypum types have
hardly taken your eyes off of her since you showed up.”

Yule pressed closer to Hermes, formerly
unaware of the intense interest in the handsome couple’s eyes, but
now painfully conscious she was being scrutinized.

“Don’t you see?” Hermes replied. “They think
Yule’s the Wellspring.”

“What?” Brenna exclaimed with a short laugh.
Jory elbowed her. “Oh, please, like all of us don’t know how
ridiculous that is, even Yule.” She looked to Yule for confirmation
and Yule gave her a nod. “See?”

“Brenna, could you not offend the people who
currently hold our lives in their hands?” Alan brusquely
inquired.

“We are no threat to you,” Lualin assured
them. “We seek only to guide the Wellspring to fulfill her destiny.
If she is the Wellspring.”

“Hold on, did you say if?” asked Alex.

“There are tests,” Honoa replied.

“The tests will help to indicate her
potential to be the Wellspring,” Lualin added.

“But the Ritual is the only certain proof,”
Honoa stated.

“I don’t like the sound of either,” Yule
whispered to Hermes.

“The tests are painless,” Lualin told
Yule.

“What about this Ritual?” Jory asked, noting
that was excluded.

“There could be pain,” Honoa admitted. “But
only if she is a virgin. Naturally, the Font would be gentle.”

“What does that mean—?” Jory broke off,
blushing deeply and glancing sheepishly around at the others,
lowering his eyes when he met Yule’s gaze.

“Okay, that’s it, I’ve heard enough,” Yule
protested, rising. “I’m not taking any tests, I’m not participating
in any Rituals, and I am not the damn Wellspring! Hermes, take me
home.”

Hermes immediately rose beside her. “You
heard her. We’re leaving. Are you going to stop us?” Everyone
within the circle rose at that question.

“I know this must be difficult for you to
accept—” Lualin began.

“I don’t have to accept any of it,” Yule
interrupted. “Good luck finding this Wellspring, whoever she turns
out to be. But I know who I am.” She turned and left the Eye
without waiting to see if anyone followed her, hearing their
conversation continue.

“She cannot dream beyond what she knows,”
Lualin said sadly to Hermes.

“She is not the Wellspring,” Honoa announced
with finality.

“How can you be sure?” asked Marc.

“The Wellspring would have a sense of her
true self. She would dream of her destiny, and she would recognize
the Font,” Honoa told Marc. “We shall keep searching.”

“Good luck,” Hermes told them, going out to
where Yule stood. “They won’t stop us,” he assured her. “They
accept you’re not what they’re looking for.”

Yule smiled ruefully. “I never am.”

Hermes slipped an arm around her. “I’ll be
your Prince Amazing until the real one comes along.”

“As if he’ll be able to compete with you.”
She hugged him tightly and in a moment they vanished from the plaza
of the Eye.

—And Yule appeared in a cave of majestic
proportion, niches and shelves lined with candles that lighted the
whole interior with flickering golden light. The floor of the cave
was covered with fine white sand and she thought she heard the
muffled roar of the ocean somewhere outside the cathedral of
stone.

“Welcome, Wellspring,” a familiar female
voice greeted from behind her.

Yule spun around in confusion. “Sheiri?”

The sayer stood on a raised pedestal draped
in a gown that resembled water droplets sparkling on blue velvet.
On either side of her were ranks of like-dressed men and women, the
men in robes rather than gowns, and the closest to her of these
people—

“Magus Teomond?” Yule gasped.

He made a polite bow. “I am honored to stand
with you, Wellspring.”

“I don’t understand. How did I get
here—wherever here is?”

“I plucked you from the wind,” Sheiri replied
from behind Prosser.

“Why?”

“To unite the Wellspring and the Font,”
Sheiri proclaimed, and all of the people present, including
Prosser, inclined their heads toward Yule.

“I don’t want to be the one to bring you bad
news when you’ve clearly gone to a lot of trouble over this,” Yule
told them, glancing around at the lavish preparations. “And it’s
not like I have any control over this so please don’t drop me down
a volcano or anything, but. . . .I’m not the Wellspring.” Rather
than anger, this was greeted with subdued amusement.

“Of course you’re not yet aware of what you
are,” Sheiri consoled her. “But the Font will reveal your true
self.”

“The—Font?” Yule asked faintly as Prosser
stepped toward her. Beyond him, the people comprising the Tahain
Grotto—Yule now realized—all knelt at an unspoken command and a
flower-festooned bed was revealed behind them.

“I am your Font,” Prosser told her with a
smile that would have made her heart soar in earlier days, but now
clutched at her with dread.

“No, I mean I’m really not the Wellspring,”
she tried to make her tone as fervent as possible. “I’ve already
been through all of this with the—other people.” She realized she
shouldn’t reveal the existence of the Archetypum. “They’ve totally
ruled me out as a possibility.”

“They are mistaken,” Prosser assured her.

“And if they are correct we will simply
continue our search,” Sheiri declared from her pedestal. “Let the
Ritual commence!” The Tahain Grotto lowered their heads.

“I’m not—” Yule declined, taking a single
step backward before Prosser caught up her green eyes with his
fathomless brown ones.

“We belong together,” he told her, his words
seeping through her skin like sauna heat. “Your power belongs with
your believers.”

Yule felt a moment of giddiness then moved
toward Prosser, suddenly more aroused than she’d ever felt before.
How had she ever resisted this man? Why had she ever resisted him?
Her arms went around his neck and when he kissed her she was the
first to slip her tongue into his open mouth, moaning at the
connection. She forgot about the crowd of people or the reason for
which she’d been kidnapped. All she could think about was how badly
she wanted this man between her legs. Nothing was fast enough; he
began to undress her, but his sloth aggravated her and she ripped
open her khaki shirt, flinging it aside, then pressed against him
again feeling his obvious nudity beneath the robes. He lifted her
in his arms and turned toward the bed—

And her world became suffused with gold as
Prosser and the Tahain Grotto vanished to be replaced by the roof
garden of her condo building! She staggered at the change and felt
her arm caught by a large, warm hand. She looked at the hand then
followed the tanned, muscular arm up, and up—to a pair of rich
green eyes that gazed into hers with clear concern.

“Yule, are you all right?”

But his voice only confused her further.
Wasn’t this one of the Archetypum? It wasn’t as if she could
mistake this bronze Hercules for anyone other than an Archetypum.
Then why was he speaking with Marc’s voice? She reached for her
head, feeling dizzy.

“I was—in a cave. . . .I think?”

“The Tahain Grotto kidnapped you right out of
the wind,” he explained. “That took power we didn’t realize any of
them had.”

“Prosser was there and they wanted me to—to.
. . .” Her mind was foggy on a large portion of what they wanted
because all she could recall was waves of lust—and she blushed
furiously, hoping this stranger couldn’t see her thoughts.

“They took you for the Ritual, we know,” he
spoke soothingly.

“I tried to tell them I’m not the Wellspring,
but they wouldn’t listen.”

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” he asked
with Marc’s voice.

“No, they were just—strange.” Then she
realized she’d thrown away her shirt and was standing before this
beautiful man in only her bra! She quickly folded her arms across
her chest.

“I’m so sorry, here.” A saffron pareo
appeared in his left hand and he held it out to her.

“Thank you,” she accepted the fabric,
wrapping it around her upper body like a bath towel since she
didn’t know how to tie the knot the women of Shangrilonn used.

“I’m so grateful you weren’t hurt. If you
like, I can create a sentinel imp for you. If they did this once
they’ll probably try again.”

“I think I should turn the matter over to the
Court. I know Magus Teomond and Sheirienu are high-ranking spell
casters, but even they can’t get away with kidnapping,” she
declared.

“I’m afraid they’ve probably gotten away with
much worse,” he remarked.

“They need to accept I’m not their Wellspring
and just get on with their lives,” she commented. She was startled
when he gently cupped her cheek in one large hand.

“You must take all of this more seriously,
Yule. They will hunt you until they are convinced you are not the
Wellspring, and there is only one way to truly convince them.”

“I—I’m sorry, do I know you?” she stammered,
wondering if this was one of the Archetypum she’d met.

“Yule, it’s me—Marc,” he told her.

“What?” She stepped back from him,
confused.

“You don’t recognize me?”

“But you’re—you’re one of them, the
Archetypum!”

His eyes widened. “You
see
me?”

“Of course I see you. You’re standing right
in front of me.”

“I mean, you can see me as I am? The way I
really look?” he questioned and Yule felt suddenly unnerved. “Yule,
how do I look to you?”

“Like they all look. . . .I don’t really like
being made fun of so I’ll just say thanks for saving me and go
home. Hermes is probably—” She was interrupted when he caught her
upper arms in his large hands, preventing her from leaving.