Two bronze columns described a terraced, welcoming gauntlet between which it was apparent they should make their way. Men and woman were interspersed equally, their brightly colored pareos contrasting starkly against golden skin and long black hair. Every woman seemed possessed of frank beauty and every man fairly radiated health and physical prowess. Unlike the Guardians, many of these men and women chose to adorn themselves with flowers, bird plumes, shells and even precious metals and gemstones to varying degrees.
The Guardians ascended and the expedition team followed. Each sculpted face they passed turned upon them with benevolence, blue or green eyes clear and unquestioning of their presence, and oddly reassuring. Yule recognized the expression from when she was a little girl, frightened by some new unknown and her mother or father would soothe and comfort her fears with exactly the same expression in their rich green eyes. As they ascended it occurred to Yule that she didn’t see anyone with brown eyes, or even hazel. While varying in shades of pale moss to richest emerald, or arctic ice to unfathomable cobalt—every pair of eyes they passed was clearly green or blue.
Yule imagined a psycho-archaeologist would be deeply interested in the phenomenon, but she was more concerned with the immediate matters at hand, trepidation growing in spite of the paternal comfort in the rows upon rows of eyes. What if these people practiced some kind of ritual sacrifice? What if her parents found these people and were trying to escape with their discovery only to be killed by these seemingly peaceful folk to keep their existence secret?
Hermes touched the small of her back in a gesture intended to convey his promise to protect her and Yule wondered if he was reading her thoughts, sensing her emotional turmoil, or if she was simply that easy to read. Her questions came to an end when they reached the final level and faced another plaza, though smaller, like the one atop the immense ziggurat upon which they’d landed and in the center—
Yule and Brenna gave startled cries of fear, both stepping back from the immense curve of a living eyeball! Hermes caught Yule before she toppled off the upper step and Alan prevented Brenna from colliding with Famowin.
“It’s only glass,” Jory told them, as much to assure him as the women. He swallowed back the cry he nearly made in unison with theirs.
The pupil was blackness eternal, focused upon them. The iris glinted with the blues and greens of a peacock’s plume, a mosaic of blue and green gemstones they saw as they drew closer. The brilliant white of the outer eyeball was achieved by ground coral rubbed onto a white chalk outer shell. Even as their educated minds unwound the essence of the construction, their instincts still warned that this cyclopean creation could see them.
“Enter,” Famowin instructed. “The Guides await.”
Marc glanced around at the others and it was silently agreed that he would be the first to step through the iris, which was in fact, a doorway covered with heavy drapes of obsidian silk. One by one the expedition team filed after him into the Eye.
Yule blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the lesser light within the curved chamber. Clouds of small, shining creatures that circled endlessly near the highest part of the chamber ceiling created this strange, aqua luminescence. The Guides consisted of another man and woman, and for a moment Yule thought Famowin and Miololis had winded in ahead of them, then she noticed small differences in their aspects and realized these were strangers.
“I am Honoa and this is Lualin,” the man introduced them, his mouth also moving with the dubbed effect of the translation spell. “We know who each of you are. Be seated.” The center of the chamber was sunken and the floor of that area was covered by carpets, the inner rim layered with fat, colorful pillows. The Guides stepped into the sunken area and seated themselves, waiting.
Marc looked around at the group and made a small gesture that they should do the same. Yule and the others cautiously stepped into the pit as if they feared it might collapse into some hidden hole, but the floor remained solid and the pillows were quite comfortable to lean against. In a short time they were all settled in the circle.
“There is much to say, but little time in which to say it,” Lualin told them. “We will give you the information you need and we will make it as painless as possible.”
“There’s going to be pain?” Brenna was clearly not a fan of that idea.
Marc laid a comforting hand on the redhead’s arm. “These are powerful people,” he explained. “The speed with which they can disseminate information may be faster than our magic allows us to accept it.”
“Everybody prepare for some friction burns,” Hermes warned, and Yule saw the taut expressions on the people around her. She started when Hermes took her right hand and gave it a small squeeze. “Don’t worry. You didn’t feel anything when the Guardians took our wholes lives from our heads so I don’t think you’ll feel anything when thoughts are put in.”
“Was that supposed to be comforting?” she asked wryly, receiving a rueful smile that suddenly vanished in a rictus of pain as Hermes paled and his hand tightened on hers. The expression was mirrored on every face in the circle save for the Archetypum and—and hers! Yule felt nothing other than worry for the people with whom she came, and she didn’t have any new influx of memories either—
And the history of magic folk crashed upon her like an ocean wave curving over to encapsulate an unwary surfer.
Chapter Seven
Shangrilonn luxuriated under the tropical sun like a big cat after a particularly satisfying meal. Beauty, grace, and power showed in every wave on the beach, every breath of air through the palms, and in every line of the astonishingly beautiful people dwelling there. They were people of peace and introspection, devoted to the positive aspects of magic, their Eye turned always toward—
Atlantis, the younger, more impetuous sister-island, seethed under a sun that warmed her toes to tropical deliciousness, but left her head temperate. Handsomeness, fluidity and strength manifested in every storm on its rocky shores, every staggering edifice that rose above its tulip trees, and every physical aspect of the savagely lovely people living there. These were people much influenced by their closer, neighbor-normal folk, and they dedicated themselves to amassing power and wealth, driven by the fierce beating of the Heart.
As disparate as they seemed, Yule felt the incredible bond between them. They were all magic folk, born of the same Wellspring, bound on the same voyage in life, united in power and ultimate purpose until—
War!
The shock and pain of it ripped so violently through Yule that she moaned aloud and tried to back away from what she saw. In their quest for power, the Throne of Atlantis tried to seize control of Shangrilonn. And the golden people, peaceful, but by no means powerless, rose up in defiance. Groves were drained dry of power—entire Families became extinct—and when faced with the imminent destruction of all of the magic in the world and the people who worked it, the Archetypum united their power for a single strike—tearing out the living Heart of Atlantis and concealing it in Shangrilonn!
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 powe
rs 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?”
The Wellspring Page 15