Billy: Messenger of Powers

by Michaelbrent Collings

  But then, he thought, maybe that’s how she became so strong. Because she had to be. Maybe that’s what makes anyone strong.

  He looked at the crying woman. This was her memory. This was her Dread, the one moment in her life that had become her world, the sum of her existence.

  “It’s not true,” he whispered to her.

  “He’s gone,” she answered.

  “It’s not true,” he said again. “You’re more than this. You’re more than this one moment. It never broke you. You’re strong, and wise, and good.” Without thinking, Billy hugged Lumilla, clutching her to him as his own mother must have held him when he was a baby. He rocked her, and thought of Rumpelstiltskin. “He still loves you, Terry is still in there somewhere,” he said.

  Lumilla shook her head, the weeping quieter and somehow more intense than it had been. “He’s gone,” she said again. She was locked in that thought, it was clear.

  Billy remembered something. He held Lumilla’s face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “He’s not gone,” he said. “I saw him. I saw Terry.”

  “You saw Rumpelstiltskin,” said Lumilla firmly.

  “Mostly,” agreed Billy. “But then, at the end of our meeting, he changed.” Lumilla said nothing, but gazed at him with hope. This was what he could give her, Billy realized. He couldn’t change her own memory, but perhaps he could make it less important by giving her a piece of his own memories. He let himself think of the funny old man who had eaten half-finished talking hot dogs. He remembered the laughter and the light in the man’s eyes as he gleefully recited a borderline dirty limerick. He thought of the look in Terry’s eyes when he talked of his wife, who had “cheated” by reading the Prophecies in the Book of the Earth.

  Billy couldn’t help but smile at the memories. He hadn’t realized until now what a bright spirit Rumpelstiltskin was. Do we all have that brightness, he wondered, even when it isn’t seen by others?

  Do I have it?

  Billy smiled still wider at that thought. “He remembers you,” he said to Lumilla. “He’s not the same. Wolfen’s spell hurt him, hurt him badly. But he’s not gone. There’s still part of him that is there, that remembers and loves you.”

  “Just a shadow,” whispered Lumilla. “Just a shadow of what was. The rest of him—the best of him—is gone.”

  “No,” said Billy sternly. As he spoke, he continued to look in Lumilla’s eyes. And he realized that they were changing somehow, their color dimming a bit. Her skin, too, was different. A bit more wrinkled.

  She’s becoming Mrs. Russet again, he realized.

  And he continued talking, guiding her past the prison of her fears as best he could. “He’s a shadow, maybe, but there are only shadows when the real thing is close at hand. You can’t have a shadow with no substance nearby. He’s there, somewhere. He’s sick, but he’s there.”

  “How do you know?” said Lumilla. She looked like she was in her forties now, showing the signs of the burdens that had been placed on her at a time when she was far, far too young.

  “Because I saw him. I saw Terry,” said Billy.

  “Rumpelstiltskin,” said Lumilla firmly, and Billy saw her start to grow younger again, as though she were spinning back to her time of greatest woe.

  “No!” he almost shouted. The sound echoed through the dismal library. “I saw Terry. He sent me through the earth. He came up with the plan that eventually got me to Dark Isle,” said Billy. Then, with urgency, he said, “Don’t you see? He helped me rescue you.”

  Lumilla stared at Billy. He could see her, willing to hope, wishing to believe.

  Her face grew aged. Her face wrinkled.

  She smiled.

  “Hello, Mr. Jones,” she said.

  Billy smiled back. “Hello, Mrs. Russet.”

  He had never thought he would be so glad to see a teacher.

  She stood, once more the Brown Councilor. She was, in fact, even wearing her Brown Cloak, and holding the crystal staff that she had used to defend them against the blue dragon, Serba.

  Billy stood with her. He hadn’t realized how much he had come to rely on his teacher. But having her back, after so long apart, he felt for the first time as though everything might actually work out in the end.

  Then his eyes fell upon the book. The book of Mrs. Russet’s memory, her Dread. As he watched, it changed. The un-sealed portion of the book separated itself from the rest. It grew bright, as though glowing from an inner light. The brightness increased in intensity until it shone like a small sun, blinding Billy.

  Then the light dimmed, and when Billy could see again, he realized that the library had changed. Gone was the dungeon-like place with its skeletal candle-holders and horrid shelves. Gone were the books that looked like they were covered in skin. Gone were the sounds of banshees and ghosts in the night. It was still a library, but perfectly clean and bright. The books were no longer locked, but stood open on the shelves, each framed individually in a beautiful nook of crystal that glowed from within.

  This was a place where anyone looking for light and knowledge could come, and be edified and illuminated.

  He looked at the place where there had been a table made of ribs and stone, expecting it to have changed as well. But to his surprise, it hadn’t. It was still a terrifying piece of furniture, and though the memory of Mrs. Russet’s loss had separated itself and disappeared into the rest of the library of light, the sealed portion of that fearful book still hunched like a tumor on the table.

  “What is that?” Billy asked Mrs. Russet.

  Her face showed uncharacteristic fear as she looked at the book. “I don’t know,” she said. “Something that I once knew, but not any more.”

  “It’s not your Dread?” he asked.

  She shook her head slowly. “No. Not my Dread. But something terrible, I think, and something that I will one day have to face.” Her face scrunched up, as though she were willing herself to remember something terribly difficult. “A baby,” she said almost to herself. “A baby was stolen from its family. And….” She struggled to remember for a moment longer, then shook her head again. “I can’t see any more.” She looked at the table for a long moment, then took Billy’s hand suddenly.

  “Come,” she said.

  “Where?” asked Billy.

  “Back,” Mrs. Russet said simply. She waved her crystal staff, and before them the ground rippled and swayed like liquid. It rolled up in a huge wave, then solidified into a long, winding staircase of white marble that led up, up, up, to the very heights of Mrs. Russet’s library.

  “Come,” she said, and pulled Billy with her. They climbed the marble stairs. It went forever, it seemed, one stair after another. They ascended to the highest shelves of Memory, and beyond, into the cloudy night sky that was the only ceiling above the library.

  And still up they climbed. Now the misty clouds were thick around them, the white marble of the staircase dim and slick under their feet. Billy was relying totally on Mrs. Russet to guide him as the cloud closed in around them. It condensed on his face like perspiration, and he had to continually wipe at his eyes to be able to see.

  Then one time he looked down, and realized that the library was gone. Mrs. Russet’s Memories lay behind them.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. But before Mrs. Russet—now only a dim form in the mist—could answer, he suddenly slipped on the stairs.

  He pinwheeled his arms, struggling for balance, trying to maintain a hold of Mrs. Russet’s hand. But he couldn’t. The mist was everywhere, making everything slippery. He lost his grip and fell screaming through the mist, dropping into an eternity of free-falling dusk.

  And when he hit the ground, it was with a crushing impact that made Billy feel like he had been squashed under the heel of a giant.

  “Oof,” he said.

  He slowly opened his eyes…and saw Ivy. The Green Power smiled at him.

  “You’re back.”

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH

  In Which
Billy sees the Armies return, and Old Enemies come to call…

  Billy and Mrs. Russet were soon helped to their feet by Vester, Ivy, and Tempus, all of whom were overjoyed to see them returned. None of them could believe what had happened, and they were effusive in their words of praise and surprise at Billy’s accomplishment.

  “No one has ever done that,” said Ivy. “Once again, you’ve shown yourself to be quite a surprise,” said Vester. And Tempus, for his part, just kept murmuring, “I say, quite remarkable, I say, quite remarkable,” over and over in an amusingly befuddled way.

  Only Fulgora was silent. Hers was the first hand out to help Billy up, though, and as she did so he again saw that trace of a smile on her lips. He realized, too, for the first time that under her cloak she was still wearing her red armor, the same suit of mail and red steel that she had worn at the time of Napalm’s challenge. Indeed, looking back, he realized that she had always had it on, every time he saw her. Even at their first meeting, when he first saw her on the Red Throne, he remembered now, she had been wearing her outfit of war. This drove home to him some of what Ivy, Vester, and Tempus had alluded to: this was not only a Red Power, she was a creature of war.

  So Billy felt a flush of pride at the mere fact that Fulgora was helping him stand: he read in her assistance that she now accepted him. He had taken a test of bravery, and he could see that he had passed it. She gripped his hand firmly, then moved away to allow Billy’s three friends to hug and, in Ivy’s case, kiss him, each saying how happy they were at his return.

  Mrs. Russet was there too, and each of the Powers—even Fulgora—welcomed her back as well. But for Mrs. Russet there were no kisses, no hugs. The other Powers were all friendly, courteous, and kind to her, but Billy realized for the first time that Mrs. Russet truly occupied a separate station from the rest. Maybe it was her position as a Councilor, maybe it was her great powers, or perhaps it was merely that she was clearly one of the smartest and most able people in the world. But now, having seen what could send Mrs. Russet into a tailspin of Dread, Billy noticed her isolation. So when Ivy, Tempus, and Vester were all done, he walked to her as well, intending to hug her and tell her how pleased he was to have her back, and how much she had been missed.

  To his surprise, though, he found when he faced her that he just couldn’t do it. Students and teachers just didn’t hug and declare devotion and affection, even if it was there. It would be like a mule hugging a rabbit: sure, they could be friends, and perhaps even walk on the same road together, but actually hugging would just be too weird to contemplate.

  Mrs. Russet seemed to understand this unwritten rule of the universe as well, so she didn’t seem disappointed that Billy didn’t do more than shake her hand and mumble a quick, “Glad you’re okay.” But she did hold onto his hand for a long while. She didn’t hold it in a strange way, it just seemed like a natural extension of his handshake. It went on for a few moments, and at the end, Mrs. Russet smiled, a quick tilt of a smile, and mouthed “Thank you.”

  Billy blushed, and smiled back. They looked at one another for a long time, teacher and student, Sponsor and unDetermined, friend and friend.

  Then Mrs. Russet turned to everyone and asked them to tell her what had happened since their captivity. Vester and Fulgora both immediately protested that surely this wasn’t the time or place for story telling, and Billy couldn’t help but notice how pleased Vester was when Fulgora agreed with him. But Mrs. Russet just said, “Bah. There is always time to know what has happened. The study of the past is the preparation for the future.”

  So Vester, Ivy, and Tempus all told what had happened to them. There wasn’t much to tell, really: just long periods of confinement in their crystal prison cells, with only a few times that each had been let out for a short period of questioning at the hands of some lower-ranked Darksider.

  Mrs. Russet also had little to tell: she had been questioned, it was true, but the questioning and the force of the Elemental torture at the hands of Black Powers had been so fierce that she couldn’t remember much of it. Only fear and pain. “And that,” she said, “is not a fit conversation to have with such young—though strong and able—people present.” She did however mention that Mrs. Eva Black had played more than a small role in the horrible ordeal. She even could remember seeing Mrs. Black’s son Cameron at a few of the sessions, and said almost casually that the boy had grown in power and stature among the Darksiders, and was already a trusted lieutenant in their army.

  When Mrs. Russet turned to Fulgora, asking where she had passed her time in the weeks since she had turned into a dragon at her Challenge and then disappeared from the volcano, the Red Lady again declined to answer in detail. She said that much of her time had been spent finding Dark Isle, but more than that she refused to disclose. And clearly no one, not even Mrs. Russet, thought it very wise to press the Red warrior princess too far or too hard on the subject.

  At last they came to Billy. Mrs. Russet shook her hand before he started, and thrones of stone came up from the earth. “I suspect that this will be a longer tale,” she said as each person in the company took a seat. To Billy’s surprise, the chairs were not hard and uncomfortable as he thought they would have been. Instead, they seemed to be covered in some kind of clean mud: it didn’t come off on their clothing, but still seemed to mold itself to the contours of each person’s body. Billy’s chair was, in fact, the most comfortable thing he had ever sat on.

  Slowly at first, then with more confidence, he told them some of what had happened. He omitted some things, but gave them the high points. For instance, he told them of his rescue by Rumpelstiltskin, but didn’t mention Prince at all. He wanted to brag about the fire snake’s bravery, but couldn’t bring himself to talk about it, for that tale ended in the bright Fizzle’s conversion to Mrs. Black’s plaything through the power of the Death’s Head Moth.

  Other things, things he did mention, were greeted with surprise to the point of disbelief. The whole story with the sharks, and his rescue by Artemaeus the whale, and the encounter with the mermaid Blue in particular were hard for them to understand. None of them, not even Mrs. Russet, had ever heard of such things happening before. But unlike the others, Mrs. Russet didn’t say she didn’t believe in mermaids. She just narrowed her eyes as though thinking hard about something, and asked Billy to continue.

  And he did, though when he told of the dark outcome his deal had had, he almost started crying. He still couldn’t believe that his agreement with Blue had ended in both the Darksiders and the Dawnwalkers being almost completely destroyed.

  “It’s okay, Billy,” said Ivy, the Green Power of Life always acting as the comforter, trying to build people up from despair. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “She’s right,” said Vester. “All you have been guilty of was being braver and brighter than anyone I have ever met.”

  Tempus, still in a bit of shock over all that had happened, continued saying “I say, quite remarkable, I say, quite remarkable.”

  And Fulgora, still looking like she was ready to gallop off to war at any moment, merely nodded gravely at Billy and said, “Your choices were the choices of any good warrior whose friends are prisoners.” High praise indeed.

  But none of it seemed to matter that much to Billy. Too much of Dark Isle all around them was still covered in water for him to forget the devastating result of a bargain misunderstood. He felt himself—again—crying. He sniffled and tried to hide the tears from the others.

  Ivy stood and walked to him, holding his hands down as he tried to bury his face and hide from his friends’ gazes. “Don’t look away, Billy,” she said. “Don’t try to hide the fact that you weep even over lost enemies. It’s what makes you a true servant of Life, and greater praise I cannot think to give.”

  “She speaks truth, in her way,” said someone else at that moment, and Billy immediately recognized the sing-song lilt in the voice and the sound of rushing waters. He looked over, and sure enough, there was Blue.
The mermaid was sitting atop the crest of a huge water spout that had risen out of the ocean below and now stood as high as the cliff where Billy and his friends now were.

  Billy had very mixed feelings upon seeing the strange mermaid. He looked around, and saw that this time his friends saw her as well, and from their shocked expressions, he knew that she was not appearing to them as a dolphin, but apparently had decided this time to show herself as she really was. His first reaction was a feeling of some happiness, coupled with a desire to say, “See? I told you!” to all his friends who had not believed that a mermaid could be real.

  But that’s not what he said. Instead, he turned his face away from the mermaid, and said, “Go away, Blue. I hate you.”

  He could sense rather than see her surprise. “Why hate Blue?” she asked.

  “Because of what you did,” said Billy, gesturing around him at the waste of Dark Isle.

  “Ahh,” said Blue. “Because of our understanding. So many feel this way of the deep, of Blue. They travel her, and use her for sport and gain, but when some find that there is a price to her presence, they bellow and wail. But such have always been the ways of Blue. She takes little that is not freely offered, though many do not realize the realities of their offerings. But she is deep, and terrible, and true. She is Blue.”

  The Powers atop the cliff were amazed at this strange coralline creature, and none of them could say anything. But Billy could. “Shut up,” he said. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. You killed all those people.” Now some of his friends—especially Ivy—did speak, murmuring quiet assent at his words.

  “And would you not have done the same?” said Blue to all of them. “Were you not at the very steps of a war to end all wars, a war to end the other side? Were you not already engaged in destruction, with what I brought as its ultimate end? But,” she continued before anyone could argue with her, “so that you may know that you know little of Blue….”