Fulgora was on her feet almost instantly, shoving Billy to one side and breathing like a wounded rhino. She wasn’t hurt, he could see at a glance. She was just angry. White rage gripped her beautiful face, draining it of blood and turning her pale. Only her lips remained red, pressed tight against half-bared teeth.
Her fire-sword was still in her hand, and she held it in a guard position, as though preparing for Billy to attack her—or preparing herself to attack him. Even so, Billy didn’t flinch. He was too amazed at what had just almost happened to be afraid.
“Are you nuts?” he asked again. “You’re going to kill her? Because she’s under a spell?” He looked around at Ivy, Vester, and Tempus, who all stood frozen in their places. “What kind of people are you? What kind of world is this?”
“Be careful, child,” said Fulgora quietly, in a voice tinged with danger and menace. “You do not know of what you speak.” She paused, then added, “And you clearly don’t understand to whom you are speaking.”
“I totally don’t,” Billy agreed. “But I know that killing Mrs. Russet is not going to happen.” He clambered fairly awkwardly to his feet, then moved himself to a position between Fulgora and the unconscious Mrs. Russet. He drew himself up to his full height—all five foot nothing of him—and then stared at the Red Lady as intensely as he could. “You’re not going to touch Mrs. Russet,” he said. Then, as though explaining his reasoning, he added, “She’s my teacher.”
Fulgora’s eyes flashed, and once again Billy was faced by a Red Power with actual flame in her eyes. The sight almost made his knees start knocking together, but he stood his ground. Even though he’d probably daydreamed of having Mrs. Russet assassinated on more than one occasion—usually when she was handing out homework assignments or returning graded history tests—he was not about to let this crazy woman attack his Sponsor in the world of the Powers.
Fulgora took a step forward. Billy didn’t know what she was planning to do, but he was pretty sure it involved him being moved very forcefully out of the way, and perhaps some kind of spontaneous combustion of his spleen or something. Still, he just gritted his chattering teeth together and did his best not to wet his pants as he crossed his arms in what he hoped was a determined-looking way.
Before Fulgora could move too far toward him, however, a form interposed itself. It was Vester. “My Lady,” the fireman said. “Please. He’s just a boy.”
Fulgora didn’t seem to notice Vester at first. Then she looked at him, apparently seeing who he was for the first time. “You were the one who rescued me, aren’t you?” she asked.
After seeing how the fireman felt about Fulgora, Billy fully expected Vester to literally explode in amorous excitement at being recognized by his lady love. To Billy’s surprise, however, Vester’s expression didn’t change from the pleading look he wore. “Yes, my Lady,” was his only reply.
Fulgora stared at him for a long moment, fire still flashing in her eyes, the flaming rapier gripped in her palm. At last, however, she nodded curtly. “I am in your debt,” she said. “Your request shall be honored.” Then she looked over Vester’s shoulder, staring down at Mrs. Russet’s still form. “But you know that you show her no kindness by stopping me.”
“Perhaps not,” agreed Vester reluctantly.
“Foolish,” said Fulgora, but her tone was no longer angry. She walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down well apart from Billy and his group of friends, staring out over the sea, which continued to grow lower and lower, baring more and more of Dark Isle. Almost instantly, Fulgora seemed to withdraw into herself, as though she were no longer aware of Billy, the other Powers, or anything else around her.
Billy watched for a second, then saw Vester’s shoulders droop. The fireman exhaled nervously, then turned to Billy. He was wearing a jittery half-hysterical smile, the kind of smile you might see on someone who had miraculously survived a major earthquake. “You are very brave and,” he said, glancing at Fulgora, “very lucky.”
“Was she really going to do it?” Billy whispered. “Was she really going to…?” Billy gestured at Mrs. Russet, unable to even speak the dreadful thought aloud.
Vester hesitated. He looked at Ivy and Tempus. Neither the Green nor the Gray Power seemed willing or able to offer any guidance. So he looked back at Billy and simply said, “Yes.”
Billy was even more shocked now than he had been when Fulgora first drew her sword. “What kind of person—what kind of monster…?” he began, then looked at Vester incredulously. “And you like her?”
Vester suddenly looked supremely surprised. This was odd, Billy thought, because Vester’s infatuation for Fulgora was so blatant it would be obvious to anyone with a pulse and more than two brain cells to rub together. Even the zombies probably knew about it, and talked about it at zombie slumber parties, or whatever it was that zombies did on their time off. But still, Vester clearly believed he had been hiding his emotions very well. The fireman looked at Ivy and Tempus, his mouth a round “O” of surprise.
“I don’t,” he said, “I mean, you know, I never—”
“Forget it,” said Ivy with a wave of her hand. “Everyone knows.”
Vester blushed a deep red, and Billy could swear he actually saw small curls of embarrassed smoke come out of the Red Power’s shirt. As fascinated as he was by Vester’s obliviousness, however, Billy still wanted an answer to his question. “How can you like someone like that?” he asked again.
Vester looked back at Fulgora, who still sat in a trance, apparently no longer aware of or interested in anything that happened around her. “She’s not like you and me,” he finally said.
“No kidding,” said Billy sarcastically. He was surprised at the venom in his voice, but the emotion he had pent up over the last hours was now bubbling to the surface. All his fear, his guilt, his anger, it was all coming out. “I mean, sure, who hasn’t whacked a teacher from time to time, but really—”
“Billy, be quiet,” said Ivy suddenly, interrupting him before he could really work up a good head of steam. Billy turned to her, surprised. “Vester is right,” said Ivy. “Fulgora is different. She was born in a place very different from where you or I came from. She has spent a short amount of time in what you call the ‘normal’ world—as when Vester met her—but she has never really lived there.”
“What do you mean?” asked Billy.
“Just as Powers Island is a land apart, so also there are other places,” replied Ivy. “Fulgora is from one of them. It is a land of war, and warriors. A place called the Underworld of Flame, where the cities are built on the very magma flows that heat the earth itself.”
“It’s not a very hospitable place,” interjected Tempus.
Ivy went on as though she hadn’t heard. “Fulgora is a Princess of those people, and has been trained in the art of war from her birth.”
“Then if they’re so tough, such warriors, why aren’t they fighting with the Dawnwalkers?” asked Billy.
“They don’t like to get involved,” said Vester. “Even though Fulgora is herself a Dawnwalker, her people have resisted following her into this battle.”
“Well regardless of all that,” said Billy, “does the fact that she’s a warrior princess mean that she can just go around killing people?”
“No, it means that she has seen suffering, because she has seen war,” said Tempus. The old man knelt slowly beside Mrs. Russet’s quiet form, gently holding her hand. “And she believes that there are some pains that are so great, it is mercy to end them…any way you can.”
Billy swallowed. “No,” he said. “We’re not giving up on her.”
Ivy touched Billy. “We’re not saying to give up,” she said. “But if Lumilla is locked into the Dread….” Ivy shuddered. “No one lasts long if that’s where they are, and the end is always terrible.”
“Where they are?” said Billy, mostly to himself. Then he looked at Vester, sudden hope in his eyes as he remembered his own brief interaction with the Dread. “The
Dread is like someone’s worst fears, right?” he said.
Vester nodded. “That’s a very basic explanation, but yes, that’s what it is at heart. So?”
“So someone’s fears come from things that have happened to them,” Billy said. Vester, Ivy, and Tempus all looked at him blankly. “Don’t you get it?” Billy was so excited now that his words jumbled all over themselves as they raced to get out. “Fear is just bad memories, things we’ve learned and things we’re worried about happening again. Memories.” He looked at Vester. “And you and Fulgora can go into those memories. Just like you did with me. So you can go in and you can help Mrs. Russet find whatever it is that’s scaring her, and get rid of it.”
Vester shook his head slowly. “Billy, I never went into your memories. I guided you into them. This,” he said, indicating Mrs. Russet, “is totally different. She’s not here anymore. I can’t help her go inside herself to fix whatever’s wrong. She’s already inside herself. She’s stuck somewhere in there, reliving some awful moment or moments, over and over again.”
“Then if Mrs. Russet can’t do it herself, one of us can go in there,” said Billy urgently. He was unwilling to just roll over and let Mrs. Russet disappear into an oblivion of despair.
Vester was still shaking his head. “Billy, I know this is hard for you—it’s hard for all of us—but it doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?” Billy demanded. “Why doesn’t it? You guys are Red Powers. You can see into people’s memories. Why not hers?” He was trying to control the frustration and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment. I’m the Messenger, he thought. Messengers don’t give up. They deliver their Message.
Then he thought, But what if the Message is to give up? What if the Message is that the world is really ending, and this is how it starts?
Shut up, he thought back at himself.
“What you and I did together in seeing your memories was incredibly difficult, Billy,” said Vester. “And that was when I was guiding you through your own memories. I don’t think I have the power necessary to guide you—or anyone else—through someone else’s mind. Not only that, but the process itself could actually destroy your teacher.” He paused, clearly trying to find the right words to explain to the young boy what going into Mrs. Russet’s mind would be like, finally saying, “Can you imagine having someone else invade your head during a nightmare? It wouldn’t be pleasant, I think. For either of you.”
Billy wanted to keep arguing. But he didn’t know what more to say. He just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists in mute frustration. Nearby, he was aware of Ivy and Tempus taking turns looking from him to Vester to Mrs. Russet, their eyes sad.
Don’t give up! he wanted to shout at them. She’s not gone, so how can we give up? All he could manage, though, was, “We have to do something.”
“I’ll take him in,” said Fulgora suddenly. Billy looked over at the Red Lady in amazement. She had gotten to her feet and was now looking at him steadily, her expression strange.
“What?” said Billy, caught off-guard by her sudden re-entry into the conversation.
“I can take someone else into Mrs. Russet’s mind,” she said. “I’ll take you.”
Ivy, Tempus, and Vester all erupted into an avalanche of protests at the same moment. “No!” and “Too dangerous!” and “Impossible!” were only a few of the words that Billy heard as his friends voiced their opposition to this new plan.
But Fulgora only looked impassively at him, as though none of the others existed. “If you truly want to bring her back,” she said, “then I’ll help you try.” Billy’s three friends were still shouting down the idea, and Fulgora now turned on them. “Silence,” she commanded in an eerily soft voice.
As one, the three other Powers on the plateau immediately shut their mouths. Fulgora, though young and slight in frame, was clearly someone that they respected. Billy suddenly realized anew what it meant to be a Councilor: it meant you were one of the top six rulers and one of the strongest people in the entire world of the Powers. He felt awkward all of a sudden, as though he had been called out of class to go to the principal’s office and discovered that the President of the United States was waiting for him there.
Fulgora misread his expression. “Afraid?” she asked. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in that. Even the greatest warriors fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” Billy said quickly. Too quickly, in fact, for he realized that he was afraid. What would Mrs. Russet’s vast room of memories look like? His own had been almost overwhelming. How much worse could hers be, with so many more memories contained in it, and all of it under the hold of the Dread?
“Of course you are afraid,” said Fulgora. Her burning eyes seared into him. “Either that, or a fool. And I think you are not a fool, Billy Jones. Though perhaps a bit impatient and intemperate at times.” This last she said with something that almost approached a smile, which nearly sent Billy into surprised shock.
“My Lady,” said Vester haltingly, his tone low. “Billy is just a boy. And no one who has ever tried to pull someone out of the Dread has ever returned.”
“He’s not much younger than you or me,” replied Fulgora. “Besides, boys have lived and died for causes—and for friends—before. Don’t sell him short because he has fewer years than you.”
She was still looking at Billy, her eyes ablaze. Billy could almost feel her walking through the corridors of his own mind, fingering through his experiences, his feelings. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off the feeling, then opened them and looked back at her with as much courage as he could muster. “Tell me what to do,” he said.
“Billy,” said Ivy, pleading in her voice.
But before he could say anything else, Fulgora nodded. She touched her cloak of flame, peeling away part of it, the fire pliant and moldable in her hands. In an instant she held her fiery rapier once again. She put two hands on the hilt, and the blade separated into two distinct swords, one in each hand. She touched the sharp tip of one blade to Mrs. Russet’s forehead. The other she brought swiftly up to where its point hung only inches in front of Billy’s eyes.
“Tell you what to do?” she said. Then smiled a tight smile. “No one knows.”
And with that, she jabbed her blade at Billy. Just as he had done when Vester had taken him into his own memories, Billy once more felt the touch of cool flames, and then felt himself explode from the inside out. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, everyone was gone.
He was alone, which he had expected, but the place he found himself was completely unexpected. “Where am I?” he wondered aloud.
In answer, he heard a high-pitched screaming that echoed around the halls of the vast place he was now in. The noise was terrible, haunting and fearful. Billy thought it sounded a lot like the kind of noise a scary ghost would make if something had scared it. He clapped his hands over his ears, wincing, and waited for what seemed like infinity years plus one until the shrieking stopped. Or rather, didn’t stop, but eased off until it was merely an eerie whine in the background, constant and unnerving.
Billy took his hands from his ears, slowly, ready to muffle them again if the sound should return to its previous levels. It didn’t, though, and he was able to look around and try to figure out where he had found himself.
It was a library. That in itself surprised him. This was nothing like the world-sized room full of television-like screens that had housed his own memories. Instead, it was a world-sized book collection. There were books everywhere, housed mostly in shelves so tall they looked like they might topple over at any time, but the books were also on the floors, some desks and tables, any surface that would hold them. The shelves themselves had ladders next to them, ladders that went up and up and up until they disappeared in what looked like a cloudy night sky. And all the way up were books, books, books. The only places where there were no books on the shelves were at the ends of some of them, where low-wattage light bulbs were stru
ng, providing a dim light that cast dark shadows throughout the huge space.
He realized that the books must be what Mrs. Russet’s memories were housed in. It made sense: she was older, she was a history teacher. Exactly the kind of person that would see herself in a book, rather than on an electronic screen.
But where to start? How could he pull her out of the Dread? How could he find her at all in the vastness of her mind?
“Hello?” he said. He was hoping to hear Fulgora’s voice, just as he had heard Vester’s on his previous trip through Memory. But only silence greeted him. “Fulgora?” he shouted. Nothing. This time he was on his own. The thought scared him more than a little, and he truly realized for the first time what a dangerous thing he had volunteered to try.
For lack of anything better to do, and as much to get his mind off the danger he was in as for any other reason, Billy walked over to a nearby book. It was a huge, dusty tome almost the size of Billy himself. It was propped up against one of the shelves, its thick leather color dark and mottled, reminding Billy strangely of the skin of the zombies.
He reached out a hand to pull open the huge cover, but before he could, the book fell over. The sound was huge and echoing in the chilling vastness of the library. And as it fell, that strange banshee scream returned for an instant. Billy jumped in fright at the weird sound. He looked around, and realized that the light bulbs of the library were all flickering, as though their power was being interrupted somehow.
As before, the ghost-wail slowly ebbed and faded, though still echoing at the edges of his hearing. Once more, Billy reached out to the huge book that now lay flat on the ground before him. He touched the cover, and the screaming started again. He tried to ignore it, to just pull open the cover of the book so that he could see inside, but the harder he tried the louder came the screaming. The lights flickered again, and as Billy continued trying to open the great book, they began to spark and then go out, extinguishing one by one.
Billy: Messenger of Powers Page 39
