Everything around him was utterly gray. But no, not gray… it was nothing. Nothing at all. A blank, empty void. He was floating in the exact center of nowhere. He tried to reach out a hand, to feel for something – anything – that might give him a sense of where he was. But there was nothing. Not just around him; he was nothing. There was no Billy anymore.
The realization of his own disintegration hit him like a hammer to the head. He felt something pressing in on him, something horrible, something worse than anything he had ever experienced. It was madness. It was insanity. It was the inability to find himself in the universe. He had been Billy Jones, the prophesied Messenger of the White King. Now, he was nothing. Nothing and nowhere. And it was too much.
He felt himself begin to fragment, to come apart, so that where there had been nothing a moment before, there were now a million pieces, too small to make anything out of. He was losing himself.
The pieces that had been him formed into a tight knot, and grew bright. A perfect white sphere. The orb of light surrounded the nowhere that had become his existence, and coalesced into something. An outline. Billy recognized it. It was his mother. Mrs. Jones, holding something. A baby. Cooing at it.
The sight did something to him. He suddenly no longer felt like he was falling apart. There was a sense of himself once again; a sense of Billy-ness to the universe.
“It’s all right, my dearest,” said his mother. “It’s all right, my son.”
The baby reached a hand toward Billy’s mother. She smiled as the baby pinched her nose.
Then another person appeared. His outline was fuzzy and vague, but Billy knew who it was, who it had to be.
“Father,” he whispered, and the emptiness that had surrounded him rang with the word. The ringing increased in volume, sounding like a thousand bells of clearest crystal. The sound became visible, like waves in front of everything, waves that melted everything away. And now all that Billy could see was a single hand, reaching out to him.
Billy grabbed the hand, and felt it pulling him, pulling him forward through a vast array of images that were all both familiar and alien to him. And then the images ended, as suddenly and jarringly as a trap slamming shut.
Billy found himself standing in front of a man he did not know. The man was burly, huge even, and dressed in a suit of deep red armor. One of the man’s hands was holding tightly to Billy’s own hand with a grip that seemed like iron.
The man bowed. “Sorry to make you pass through that.”
Billy looked around. He was in a large hall that looked as though it was carved from black rock, deep and reflective, with a shine that was both beautiful and deadly. It looked like obsidian: sharp glass made from volcanic rocks. He also realized that his friends were standing near him as well, and that each of them was being held by the hand of a red-armored warrior.
“The Dream Curtain,” whispered Vester. “I never thought I would experience it.”
“Few have,” nodded Fulgora, letting go of the hand of the warrior who stood in front of her, and going to stand next to Vester.
“Wha…. Where are we?” Billy asked. He felt like his world was spinning slightly out of control. He also felt strangely…violated. As though someone had reached inside him and took something terribly important away from him.
The image of his father sprung into his mind again. But it was as it had been in the dream – or was it madness? – that he had just experienced: fuzzy and out of focus. Like he was seen from a great distance, though he had been standing right there, Billy knew.
Fulgora reached out and gripped Billy’s shoulder. “The feelings will pass in a moment,” she said. “What you just went through is a defensive spell.”
“You were in my memories?” Billy guessed. In addition to bending the Element of Flame, Red Powers also had control over people’s memories. Just as Gray Powers could see bits of the future, Brown Powers could see into history, and Blue Powers could sense a person’s deepest desires.
Fulgora nodded. “To get into the Chamber of the Fire Lords,” she said, nodding at the vast black room, “you have to pass through the Dream Curtain. It takes you back through your past to your most important moments. That way, we can determine whether you are someone to be trusted, or a danger to us.”
“How do I know which one I am?” Billy asked, half-joking.
“If you were judged a threat, you would be dead right now,” said Fulgora. She was not joking.
Billy sobered. Fulgora was his friend, and she loved Vester, he knew. That made it easy to forget occasionally that she came from a place that was different from the outside world. Most Powers just lived among “normal” humans, their natures a secret. But Fulgora was from the Underworld of Flame. Billy didn’t know too much about her home, but he understood that it was a dangerous and warlike place – a place where, to enter their halls of power, you either had to pass their test, apparently, or die trying.
He gulped. The possibility of losing a library card or forgetting his homework would never strike terror into his heart again.
“Well,” said Mrs. Russet. “What now?”
Rather than answer, Fulgora turned around. Billy turned, too, and saw that there were a half-dozen thrones behind them. Five of them held people. Three men and two women, all dressed in the red armor that Billy was realizing was one of the standard characteristics of people who lived in this place. The last throne was empty. But not for long. Fulgora walked to the six seats and took her place in the last one.
“Present your request,” she said. “The Princes and Princesses of the Underworld of Flame of been summoned, and will hear you. Speak, and speak true.”
Billy looked around, confused. He hoped no one was waiting for him to speak; he had no idea what was going on. Which was pretty normal, he supposed. He didn’t know what was going on most of the time, it seemed.
“We have come to sue for understanding,” said Mrs. Russet, her voice deep and sounding even more powerful than it normally did.
“Speak, then, and learn,” said Fulgora.
“We have come to find the Secret of the Flame,” said Mrs. Russet. “I have plumbed the depths of History. I have looked into Desire. I have sought in the Future. All for naught. So I look now within the Fires of Memory. I beseech the Overlords of Flame, to look within themselves and find what we seek.”
One of the men on the throne, the oldest-looking of the fierce warriors before them, spoke up. “You ask us to surrender our greatest treasures to the outside world,” he said. “You ask too much.”
Mrs. Russet pursed her lips. “We are at war, Solus,” she said.
“You are at war,” said the man, Solus. “Not us. We are safe here. No one challenges us in our realm.”
“Perhaps not now,” said Mrs. Russet. “But the Darksiders respect no boundaries. They will come for you.”
The people on the thrones, Fulgora included, all closed their eyes for a moment. Billy got the feeling they were discussing Mrs. Russet’s request.
A moment later, their eyes opened. They looked at each other.
“It is agreed,” said Solus. Apparently he was the leader here.
“Will you grant us our request?” asked Mrs. Russet.
Solus shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“But –” Mrs. Russet began, but Solus raised his hand, and a lightning bolt sheared out of the roof above him, smashing into the molten floor.
“Silence!” shouted Solus.
Mrs. Russet immediately quieted. Billy was shocked; he hadn’t thought anything could make Mrs. Russet stop talking when she had something to say.
Solus looked as though he was trying to resist the urge to leap from his throne and start throttling people.
“And I thought Fulgora was the hot-blooded one,” Tempus whispered into Billy’s ear. Billy nodded.
“We will not,” continued Solus, looking at Mrs. Russet, “allow you to claim our secret.”
Mrs. Russet drew herself up, looking as though she wa
s also trying to resist the urge to do some throttling of her own. Billy didn’t know who would win that fight, but he was sure he didn’t want to be around to see it. He imagined it would probably be a lot like sitting at ground zero of a military strike. Only less pleasant.
“Then what,” said Mrs. Russet bitingly, “are you prepared to ‘allow’?”
Solus leveled a thick finger at Billy. “The Seeker may go.”
Billy felt his insides grow cold, and not just from the effects of the DeathBlade. He had just finally gotten used to being called “The Messenger,” and now he was being called “The Seeker.” He imagined that next he’d probably get saddled with some even more ridiculous moniker, like “The Fainter,” or “The Booger-Picker,” or “The Guy Who Has No Clue What Is Going On And Yet Has To Do All These Things Because Of Some Random Prophecy Written A Bijillion Years Ago-er.”
Solus’ voice pulled him out of his internal pity party. “You, Seeker, and you alone, may attempt to find the Secret of the Flame.”
Billy looked at Mrs. Russet. It was clear that she was fuming, though he wasn’t certain why, exactly.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“They’re cheating,” she said.
“Cheating? How?”
Mrs. Russet looked at Billy. “My husband and I –” she began, but Solus cut her off.
“Silence!” he said. “If you say one more word to the Seeker, then none of you will be permitted to attempt to discover the secret.”
Mrs. Russet’s gaze could have killed small animals at a distance of ten feet, she looked so angry, but she said nothing. Just pursed her lips and clenched her fists.
Billy waited for a moment, still unclear about what was going on. He looked at Tempus, and the old man appeared as though he was going to say something, but before he could Vester reached out and grabbed Tempus’ arm and shook his head. Tempus looked at Billy with a sorry expression, then shrugged as though to say, “Sorry, I can’t do anything about it.”
Billy didn’t know what to do. He met Vester’s eyes, and the Fire Power nodded ever so slightly in Fulgora’s direction.
Billy turned to look at the Red Princess. She had a strange look on her face. Billy had seen her angry, and he had seen her… well… now that he thought of it, he mostly saw her angry. But he had certainly never seen her look like this before. She looked almost embarrassed.
Billy took a breath. He felt like he was taking a test that he hadn’t studied for, and had just found out that it would be ninety percent of his final grade. And that he would be taking it blindfolded. With his hands tied behind his back and his shirt on fire.
He sighed. One thing he could say with some pride was that he was at least getting used to not having any idea what was going on around him.
He took a step forward.
“Who are you?” demanded Solus.
Billy bowed. “I am the Seeker,” he intoned, the effect only slightly marred when his voice cracked like a glass egg in the middle of the word “Seeker.”
“What do you seek?” said Solus.
“The Secret of Flame,” said Billy. A strange sensation overtook him as he spoke. He was assaulted by memories, images from his past. He knew that the Fire Lords were casting a spell of some kind on him. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on erecting some kind of mental wall, some sort of barrier that would keep the eyes of the six men and women who sat before him out of his head. After a moment, the images ceased. The Fire Lords looked at one another, and Billy could not discern if they were angry or happy.
“And why do you look for our secret?” Solus finally said.
Billy was silent. Finally, he looked at Solus, deciding to be honest. “I don’t know,” he answered. Or rather, that was what he tried to say. But what actually came out was something completely different. “For my own purposes,” he said. It was hardly the kind of thing he would have expected to hear coming from his mouth. It sounded imperious, commanding.
A murmur ran through the princes and princesses on their thrones. Fulgora alone said nothing, staring intently at Billy with, he thought, the barest trace of a smile on her lips.
“Very well, Seeker,” said Solus. “You may attempt to discover the secret.”
The man smiled, and Billy felt rather as though he had won a free trip to some war-torn country. Whatever was going to happen next, he feared, was going to be something unpleasant.
Solus nodded at the other men and women who remained on their thrones, and a sheet of fire erupted from the hard black floor beneath their feet. The flame shot up to the ceiling of the dark hall, completely encircling Solus and Billy. They were alone within it, the others in the chamber hidden behind the fire.
Solus moved suddenly, and Billy couldn’t help but jump. But the man was not moving to attack him. Rather, he withdrew a bottle from under the folds of the cloak he wore over his armor.
The bottle was clear glass, with a cork in its mouth, and Billy could see a small key within the vessel.
Solus held the bottle out, and Billy took it. Then gasped as Solus grasped his free wrist tightly.
“So, Seeker,” said Solus. “To find the secret, you must first find the way to retrieve the key from this bottle.”
“No problem,” said Billy, with a confidence he didn’t feel. Surely it couldn’t be that easy, could it?
“There are conditions, though,” said Solus with a grin. “You must not take out the cork. And you cannot break the glass.”
Billy stared at the man with an open mouth. He was trying to find some mystical secret, and this guy was giving him a brain teaser?
“Seriously?” he said.
“More than seriously,” replied Solus. “Fail to retrieve the key properly, and you will die.” The Fire Lord smiled grimly at Billy. “Answer quickly, boy,” he said. Billy could instantly see why. The fire that had surrounded them was rapidly growing closer. He had only a few seconds before he guessed he would be burnt to a crisp. Nor could he get any assistance from his friends – they were completely invisible behind the thick sheet of flame that surrounded him.
Billy looked at the bottle. It seemed to be laughing at him. He shook it. The key rattled in the glass bottle. He concentrated on it, thinking perhaps that it would respond to his focus in some way, but the key remained within the bottle, and the bottle remained corked.
The fire drew closer. Solus smiled, and in his eyes Billy saw memories of himself falling, flailing, failing. He knew Solus was looking into his memories, was drawing the bad ones closer to the surface, clouding his ability to focus on the task at hand. But knowing what was happening didn’t change how effective it was.
Oddly, it was the fire that finally helped Billy to concentrate. Hard to think about a bad memory when you were about to be turned into a five-foot piece of charcoal.
He looked harder at the bottle.
The fire grew hotter.
It became hard to breathe.
The fire was close enough to reach out and touch.
Billy’s hair was damp against his neck, and sweat ran in thick rivulets down his cheeks and dripped off his chin before hissing into nothing when they hit the superheated floor below.
“Die, Seeker,” whispered Solus.
And then something strange happened. It had happened a few times before in Billy’s life, when he was speaking in his role as Messenger to the White King, and again when he had wielded Excalibur at the Battle for Powers Island. He felt as though he was no longer himself. As though Billy had disappeared, and someone else had appeared to take his place. Someone older, and much, much wiser. But at the same time, Billy didn’t feel as though he had become a puppet. He didn’t feel like he was being controlled, exactly. He knew that if he needed to, he could step back into the driver’s seat of his mind and take control. He just didn’t want to. Whatever was happening to him, it was a good thing. It was something that was going to help.
And under the influence of that strange-yet-familiar feeling, Billy reac
hed for the cork in the bottle.
“You take it out, and you die,” said Solus.
“I’m not taking it out,” said Billy. He touched the cork. And instead of tugging it out of the bottle, he pushed it in.
The cork fell into the bottle with a thunk, clearing the way for Billy to remove the key. He dropped the key into his palm, and looked at Solus. The Fire Lord was staring at him angrily.
“Use the key,” said Solus flatly.
“On what?” said Billy. He eyed the curtain of fire nervously. It was still coming closer.
Solus didn’t answer. Just continued staring at him.
Billy thought quickly. He was here looking for some mystical secret. Which meant that the people of this world must have it, or have some power over it. So it was logical to assume it was related to the Element of Flame. And if that was the case, and the key was supposed to take him to the secret, then….
Billy held the key in his hand, and reached for the sheet of flame around him. Surprisingly, the hand that held the key did not melt into a nasty bunch of goo, not even when he touched the key to the fire. The key slid into the flame, and Billy turned it as though opening a lock.
The flame sheared away, and Billy suddenly found himself somewhere he had been before. Somewhere he had seen in his nightmares for weeks after visiting the place. Somewhere he hoped never to return.
He looked up. And up. And up. High enough that it felt like he might break his neck just craning to see the first face he had seen when introduced to the world of the Powers.
It was a dragon. Blue, at least forty feet tall. Billy had accidentally transported to the thing’s lair with Mrs. Russet on his first trip to Powers Island. But he would never forget it, or the fact that it had tried to fry him with a barrage of lightning bolts.
The same thing looked like it was about to happen now. The beast spotted Billy instantly, and its eyes drew together across its snout in an unmistakable frown.
Billy looked around to see if Solus was going to do something to stop his imminent death, but the Red Prince was nowhere to be seen.
Billy: Seeker of Powers (The Billy Saga) Page 5