Billy: Messenger of Powers

by Michaelbrent Collings

  Fulgora gave a sharp battle cry and lanced out with the twin swords of fire that were once more in her hands, skewering the two closest zombies. The undead warriors puffed into ash immediately and then disintegrated under the force of her Element. Before this had even happened, though, Fulgora was already whirling on to the next soldiers, and two more were dispatched.

  But that was nothing to what Mrs. Russet did. She watched Fulgora’s deadly dance for a few moments, then sighed. “Children,” she said in resignation. She leaned down and picked up a small pebble from the ground at their feet, and it slowly lengthened into the crystal staff that Billy now guessed Mrs. Russet used to focus and amplify her power. As soon as the staff had grown to its full size, she said, “Fulgora, withdraw.”

  The Red Lady did so immediately, whirling about after impaling and destroying two more zombies, then rushing back to rejoin the group of Powers with Billy at its center. The zombies followed as she did so, soon tightly surrounding the friends.

  “Uh, Lumilla,” said Ivy as the creatures drew near. “Now would be a good time.”

  “I know my dear,” said Mrs. Russet.

  “So could you get on with it?” asked Ivy nervously as fatal fingers slowly reached out to touch her and the others.

  “Certainly,” said Mrs. Russet. A cold smile was on her face now. “I just wanted to enjoy the moment a bit.” And with that, she stamped the foot of her scepter down, tattooing a quick two-hit drum beat on the floor.

  And nothing happened.

  The zombies grew closer. Only inches away.

  “Mrs. Russet? You going to do something?” squeaked Billy.

  That cold smile Mrs. Russet was wearing grew a bit. “Still enjoying the moment,” she said. And then, with a rumble and a shock of movement, the floor under the zombies suddenly disappeared. Or rather, it moved upward in a sudden eruption, and with a thud and a rather disturbing “squooosh” that Billy knew would be a featured attraction in his nightmares for years to come, the zombies were all squashed between the ceiling and the floor that had suddenly risen up to meet it like a huge metal press.

  Or zombie press, thought Billy.

  Thankfully, the part of the floor that had just moved stayed where it was, so he was spared the sight of squoooshed zombie flesh. Now the room was considerably smaller, only a loose pocket around where he and his friends stood, and a small trio of halls leading to the three mannequin-like Counters and then to the elevators beyond.

  “Cut it a bit close, didn’t you old girl?” asked Tempus, though Billy could tell the Gray Power wasn’t at all upset, and had in fact probably rather enjoyed the zombies’ mode of passing.

  Mrs. Russet’s eyes were still cold, but some warmth flowed back to her face. “I did,” she said. “But anyone who has been tortured at the hands of the Darksiders gains an appreciation for life’s black moments of comedy, don’t you think?”

  “Quite so, quite so,” rumbled Tempus with a chuckle. Then he went to a Counter and collected his badge. The others followed suit, and soon only Billy was left. He was fairly nervous and excited: here he was, joined with the leaders of the Dawnwalkers, preparing for battle with the Darksiders. He had just witnessed if not actually helped with a mass squooshing by the Dawnwalkers’ leaders. He was now a Dawnwalker. He could at last be Determined.

  So his hand was almost shaking as he reached out to touch the button on the side of the mannequin’s case. The badge fluttered into its slot. He picked it up….

  And his expression fell. “Billy—unDetermined” was all the badge said.

  He put the badge on, slowly, and Vester must have seen and understood Billy’s disappointed expression. The fireman moved closer to him, then kicked the Counter case as though it was a soda machine that had given him orange when he wanted lemon-lime. “Do these things ever get it wrong?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Never,” answered Mrs. Russet. She appeared perplexed as well.

  “But surely after all he’s done, he’s earned the right to be called a Dawnwalker,” said Ivy.

  “I would agree,” said Mrs. Russet. “But apparently there is something about Billy—something deep and hidden—that will not permit this to happen. Just one more mystery about our young Messenger.”

  Billy was still crestfallen, but he put his badge on and moved to join his friends in front of the elevators. Vester’s arm on his shoulder helped him feel somewhat better, as did the realization that Mrs. Russet had called him “Billy.” Not “Mr. Jones” or “you lazy excuse for a history student” or “hey you I told you no sleeping in class.” Just “Billy.” He didn’t want to make a big deal of it, since he wasn’t sure she had even realized she did it, but he felt warm inside.

  She called me Billy, he thought. And smiled. “What now?” he asked as he joined his friends.

  Mrs. Russet pressed one of the elevator call buttons, and a door opened almost immediately. “We go up,” she said.

  The group stepped into the elevator, and Billy was more than a little surprised that no jokes or offers of candy or anything else came out of the elevator as they did so. What was wrong with it?

  Then the elevator did speak. “Floor?” it said morosely.

  “Top,” said Mrs. Russet.

  “Yeah, whatever.” With a start, Billy realized that this elevator had a New York accent. It was the same elevator that had taken Billy to Powers Stadium and then later to the top of the tower. But where before it had been friendly and joking, now it was bellicose and moody.

  “What’s wrong?” Billy asked, touching the elevator walls.

  “They don’t like me to talk,” said the elevator dismally. “Just take you to your floor and be done with it.”

  “Well it’s different now,” said Billy.

  “Actually, Billy,” interjected Tempus with a whisper, “it might be better this way. Some of these elevators talk entirely too much and make entirely too little sense.”

  Billy ignored the old Gray Power, particularly since he knew that the same could be said of Tempus. “Come on,” he said to the elevator. “How about a joke?”

  “No way,” was all the elevator said, and then it shut up and refused to talk any more.

  Billy was sad, but couldn’t blame the device. It must be terrible to shuttle Darksiders around all day long. If he had to take Mrs. Black and Cameron around all the time…he shuddered at the thought.

  He turned to Mrs. Russet instead. “Why are we going to the top?” he asked her.

  “Elementary strategic positioning,” answered Fulgora without waiting. “Secure the high ground first, if at all possible the greatest defensible position, then reconnoiter and strategize based on the available resources and the dictates of the battlefield.”

  Billy looked blankly at her, and Vester simplified: “It’s always better to start a fight when you’re already on top,” he said.

  Billy still didn’t really understand, but he was quiet until the elevator lurched to a halt and opened. “We’re here,” it said. “Now get out.”

  Billy and the others did, and as they exited he heard Ivy gasp.

  That’s right, thought Billy, she hasn’t been up here since before the first attack ended. She hasn’t seen what it looks like now.

  And with that thought, he was reminded forcefully of the fact that last time he had come up here, Wolfen had been waiting for him, staring at the crystal shard that still pierced the center of the Diamond Dais. But when Billy looked around, he saw with relief that the Dark Master was nowhere to be seen.

  I wonder where he is? thought Billy. Then realized he’d probably rather not know.

  Mrs. Russet, meanwhile, stamped her crystal staff again, and the stone floor of the tower top started to ripple and sway. Soon, there was a castle battlement and walls that had surrounded the Diamond Dais, an impromptu pillbox of sorts, solid and at least somewhat sheltered from any attacks. Mrs. Russet motioned them inside, walking toward the Diamond Dais, and once again the stone steps appeared before her and sh
e was able to walk up them to the podium. Fulgora followed, and the two women sat on the Brown and Red Thrones, seeming to find great comfort in their return to these seats of Power.

  “What happens now?” asked Vester. He stood close to the edge of the Dais, head respectfully down.

  “Ivy,” said Mrs. Russet, “take a vine down to the beach. See if you can find your father. If you do, rouse him and bring him back here. If not, return and report on how many of our forces are here.”

  Ivy’s face lit up at the mention of her father. She held out a hand, and one of the many thick vines that still lay all over the top of the tower writhed toward her. It sprouted a hand-like set of branches as it did, and they grasped her and pulled her quickly away, taking her over the top of the tower in an instant. It would have seemed odd to Billy before, but now after his time of exposure to the Powers, all he thought was, That’s cool.

  “What do we—” began Vester, but Fulgora held up a silencing hand.

  “Wait a moment,” she said. “Starting a campaign is much easier when you begin with adequate information resources, so let us see if Veric returns with information that can be of use.”

  And sure enough, a few minutes later the vine that had disappeared with Ivy in its grasp returned, this time holding both Ivy and Veric. The Green Councilor was clearly ecstatic to be holding his daughter, though he seemed a bit sleepy and somewhat unsure of his surroundings.

  The tree branch deposited Ivy next to Vester, Tempus, and Billy beside the Diamond Dais, then carried Veric the Green to his Throne of Life. The man sank into it with a sigh of happiness, and Billy could see the tendrils that coated the Throne whipping out to caress and touch the man with healing fingers.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your massage,” Mrs. Russet said. “But we could use some information.”

  “What?” asked Veric, clearly still trying to shake off the magic sleep that Blue had put him and all the other Dawnwalkers under. “Ah, yes,” he said, visibly pulling himself up in his seat. “Ivy told me some of what happened. Just the gist, mind you, but enough.” He looked straight at Billy. “Thank you, young man. From what I’ve heard, we all owe you our lives.”

  “Thanks and commendations later,” said Fulgora sharply. Ivy glared at her and patted Billy as though to say, “It’s okay, I think you deserve a medal.” But Billy wasn’t upset at all. Truth to tell, he would only have been embarrassed to have the Green Councilor gushing about him.

  “Well then, what is the first order of business, Red Warrior?” asked Veric with a hint of a smile.

  Fulgora didn’t even notice it. “Troop count. Billy chose extremely wisely in asking to have us all brought here. The time slowing on Powers Island means we will have some time to prepare before the Darksiders return and attack: they will have to gather, and marshal their forces, choose a plan and execute it, and the time they spend doing that will be multiplied ten-fold for us. But the attack is sure to come, and we must prepare immediately if we are to stage a proper resistance. So what are our resources?”

  Veric thought for a moment. “I would say that there were ten or perhaps fifteen thousand Dawnwalkers asleep on the beach when I left with my daughter. Hard to guess the exact number, but I’d wager that’s about right.”

  “Only ten or fifteen?” asked Billy, surprised. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, remembering that Fulgora and the other Councilors hadn’t liked it in the past when people spoke out of turn from off the Diamond Dais. But apparently that rule no longer applied to him—at least for the time being. Perhaps he had earned their respect and gratitude to the point where he would be permitted to speak. Or perhaps the rules were just different when war was imminent. But either way, no one on the Diamond Dais told him to be silent or keep it down in an imperious tone. Instead, Fulgora actually answered him with a tone of respect.

  “It is a mark of the genius of Wolfen’s plans,” she said. “They attacked us on a day of their own choosing, and were able to capture all the Dawnwalkers on the island, and track and imprison a great many more who had Projected themselves there to watch my Challenge. Probably about ten or fifteen thousand, as Veric has said. A masterful move that both imprisoned a great portion of our people, and likely also sent all the rest into a panic. They’re probably hiding throughout the world now, broken into useless groups and just trying to avoid being hunted down by the well-organized Darksider troops.” She frowned then, looking at Veric as she said, “Your news is not good. The Darksiders, if they muster in force, will have three times our numbers.”

  “At least,” agreed Veric.

  “And don’t forget the zombies,” added Vester. Fulgora looked at him and nodded, clearly coming to appreciate the fireman’s comments.

  Finally, thought Billy. One thing he had come to know about Vester was that the man didn’t talk all the time, but whenever he did, it was always something that was worth listening to.

  “But I thought….” Ivy looked confused. “Didn’t Lumilla just take care of that downstairs for us?” she asked.

  “I took care of a few, but I suspect that there will be more….”

  “Actually, I don’t think so,” said Billy. Mrs. Russet, Fulgora, and Veric all looked at him. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glance, and half expected to puff into smoke at any moment. “Uhhh,” he stuttered, “I mean, that is, you know, when Blue washed away Dark Isle, it looked like the zombies were all on it….”

  “And they didn’t get saved by the sharks or the whales!” shouted Tempus happily. He shook Billy’s hand quickly in sharp up and down pumps as though the old man had decided to run for Congress but only had two days to shake as many hands and kiss as many babies as he could before the election. “Way to go, my boy, way to go!”

  Again, Billy’s only response was a small dollop of pride that was completely overwhelmed by a huge helping of embarrassment.

  “He’s right,” said Fulgora, and for a moment Billy was worried that now she was going to start in on him. But no, the warrior was still a warrior. “This is a tactical coup,” she said. “They still outnumber us, but with the undead at their side we would have stood no chance.”

  “Still,” said Veric, “if they outnumber us by three hundred percent, that is something to fear.”

  “True,” responded Mrs. Russet. “But we have two things in our favor. First, as Fulgora already pointed out, the nature of Powers Island means that time is literally on our side. We will have time to marshal ourselves and prepare bulwarks and defenses against the inevitable attack.”

  “And second?” asked Veric. The Councilor of Life was clearly a smart man, but just as clearly his ways were not the ways of war.

  Mrs. Russet looked around to see if anyone else knew what the second advantage would be. And once again, Vester was the one to guess. “Bottleneck,” he said.

  “Bottleneck?” asked Billy. As he said it, he got the feeling that Tempus was a bit miffed that Billy had beaten him to the question.

  “Excellent,” said Fulgora, now clearly understanding what Mrs. Russet and Vester had known. “They have fifty thousand to our ten or fifteen thousand, but even so, they can only come through three at a time.”

  “How come?” asked Billy, then he blushed as he immediately figured it out. Everyone had to come through the Accounting Room before they could appear elsewhere on the island. So even though the Darksiders could appear en masse if they wished, they would still be forced to go through the Accounting Room in small groups before emerging to fight.

  “Exactly,” said Fulgora, seeing Billy come to understand this concept. “We can prepare for them there, and perhaps hold their entire army off with only a small force of our own.” She nodded, her eyes looking upward at nothing in particular, no doubt planning strategies and troop supply lines in her head. “This might be an easy victory after all.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” said Mrs. Russet dryly.

  And Billy had to agree. He knew somehow that this wasn’t going to be simple or easy i
n any way. And he also had the dread suspicion that, whatever happened, he was going to see Wolfen and the Black family again.

  Fulgora touched her throne, and a fire-red slate appeared on her lap. She withdrew some kind of a pen from her armor and started writing, complex equations that appeared on the slate in figures of fire as she made calculations in preparation for the upcoming battle.

  Mrs. Russet saw what she was doing, nodded, and said, “I assume that this means you will assent to being the battle commander?” she asked with only the barest hint of amused sarcasm.

  “Obviously,” said Fulgora without looking up. Then she did look up, glancing quickly at Vester. “You will assist me,” she said in a no-nonsense tone that brooked no dissent.

  Not that Vester was even going to think about dissent, Billy thought. Indeed, he noted that Vester appeared ready to explode—perhaps literally—with joy at the thought.

  “All right then,” said Mrs. Russet. She looked at the Green Councilor. “Veric, go find Dismus the Gray Councilor and bring him back here.” Then she looked at the others in the company in turn. “Ivy, you go to the beach and start waking people up. Tempus, as soon as they’re awake, I want a count of how many of each Power we have. Organize them into troops of fifty.”

  “Who should be in charge of each troop?” asked Tempus, and Billy was surprised to hear how un-flighty and focused the man suddenly sounded. The Gray Power had unsuspected depths to him, apparently.

  “I leave that to your discretion, old friend,” said Mrs. Russet. “Organize them in a hierarchy you deem appropriate, then return with a roster of troops and the leaders in charge.”

  Both Ivy and Tempus nodded, and soon were gone, Ivy being carried over the edge of the tower by one of the vines, and Tempus whipping off in a puff of air that propelled him like a knobby-kneed superhero into the sky. Veric followed suit, and a moment later Fulgora told Vester to come with her, and the two walked away, heads together, having what sounded like a friendly argument over some calculation Fulgora had made.