Billy: Messenger of Powers (15 page)

“The Council has much to discuss,” she said. “Some of it is not fit for young ears, and some of it is not fit for anyone, but must be discussed nonetheless. Please take Billy and wait—all of you—in the anteroom until we call. The key word to get in is ‘Transport.’” Her look never wavered from Billy’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like he should do something, say something brave or heroic or at least make
some
statement. But nothing came to mind. All he could think about was how awful he felt.

That and the fact that his nose was suddenly incredibly itchy, but there was no way on earth he was going to scratch it right now.

“The Truce has been on the verge of collapse for years,” continued Mrs. Russet. “I fear that this last set of events may finally break it. But regardless, we must decide a few things.”

Her eyes grew, if possible, even more intense. “Not least of which, we must determine what to do with Billy Jones.”

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

Billy clambered down from the dais and was taken by Vester, Ivy, and Tempus to a nearby outcropping of stone standing by the river that bisected the tower. The stone was roughly cubic in shape, about eight feet on each side, and was of the same type of rock as the tower itself. It looked like it had been carved out of the solid rock of the tower, then put on top of it as an afterthought, but there was no seam that Billy could see between the tower and the strange outcropping before which they now stood.

Vester looked at the rocky cube, unsure. “Anyone here ever been in the anteroom?” he asked.

“I have,” said Ivy. She walked to the rock, then touched it with a finger. She traced her finger lazily across its surface in a few sweeping strokes. Billy watched her, curious to see what new strangeness would erupt.

Ivy saw him watching, and misinterpreted his look as one of questioning what she was doing. “Didn’t you hear Lumilla?” she asked. “I’m writing the code word on the rock. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to get in.” As she said this, her finger stopped moving. Billy suddenly saw a dim gold outline in the rock, along the path where her finger had moved. “Transport,” it said, and Billy had a moment to see that Ivy had put a smiley-face in the middle of her “o” before the word faded, and a beautiful golden doorway appeared in the face of the rock.

“Come on,” said Ivy, and opened the door. She stepped through, followed by Tempus.

“Good thing,” murmured the older man. “I need to put my feet up.”

Vester nodded to Billy, gesturing for him to go through ahead of him. Billy smiled, then stepped through the portal.

He didn’t know what to expect upon stepping through. Some jarring convulsion of light, or an explosion of color, or some strange smell that he would later find out was Eye of Newt or Pancreas of Dragon or something.

But he definitely did
not
expect a cozy, brightly painted room that had a pot-bellied stove in one end of it, a bar at the other, and about three dozen bean bags all around. One entire wall was a great window, which allowed an awesome view of a snow-filled vista, as though the room they were in was on the top of Mount Everest.

A blizzard raged outside, but unlike the blizzards that Billy had seen on television or read about in books, this one had snowflakes that looked to be about eight inches in diameter, each one a beautiful and distinct marvel of ice sculpture that danced in the fierce wind outside. Occasionally a group of the snowflakes would blow together, seemingly at random, to form a shape of some kind: a polar bear, an ice castle, a Christmas tree, and on and on in a never-ending flurry of beauty and prismatic light.

Tempus was already flopped in a beanbag, his arms splayed out to the sides in total exhaustion, as though he had run a marathon. Billy suddenly realized that he, too, was getting tired. How long had it been since Mrs. Russet first took him from school and brought him to the hall with the walls of water, wind, and flame? It felt like hours and hours. He hoped it hadn’t been too long, because he knew that if he wasn’t home when his mom got off her shift at work, she would panic and probably call out the police to look for him—if she didn’t place a direct call to the President of the United States asking for the Army to start a house-to-house search.

Vester moved immediately to the bar. “Anyone want anything?” he asked.

“Cocoa,” replied Ivy immediately, settling down into a dark green bean-bag that immediately sprouted flowers which she picked and began braiding into a small wreath.

“Make it a double for me,” said Tempus.

Vester nodded. He turned to Billy. “And you?” he asked.

Billy realized that his mouth was parched. Just the thought of something to drink made his lips feel even drier. “I’d love something,” he replied.

“What’s your pleasure?” asked Vester. “You can have anything you want, pretty much, as long as it’s cocoa.” He laughed at Billy’s surprised expression. “This place was designed by a pair of Councilors many centuries ago, when the Council was first formed. One of them was a Gray Power, a very powerful one who could see farther into the future than any other Gray Power before or since.” He reached below the bar and brought out two steaming mugs of cocoa. Billy didn’t see him make anything, the mugs were apparently just waiting for him down there, as if—naturally—by magic. Ivy and Tempus each stood and took one of the mugs, then sat back down in their bean bags. “Many of that Gray Powers’ prophecies are recorded as some of the most accurate and powerful that have ever been.”

Vester frowned as he withdrew another hot chocolate from under the bar and sipped at it. “Unfortunately, the sight of the future also drove him mad. Apparently he didn’t like what he saw. But one thing in the future that he saw and
did
like was hot chocolate. So when he designed the anteroom, he and the Brown Power who helped him make this place made it so that there would always be hot chocolate available for the asking.” He winked at Billy. “And you look like you could use a Vester Special.”

Vester reached under the bar and withdrew a large mug. This one was heaped with whipped cream that practically spilled out of its sides, the tops of the cream sprinkled with chocolate shavings and colorful sprinkles. A fat marshmallow sat on top.

Vester looked around. “Now, where did I put…?” he began, then snapped his fingers. Billy heard a tiny neighing sound, then the minute red flame stallion that Vester had conjured earlier galloped out of the fireman’s pocket, and back up to his shoulder. Vester held out his hand, finger pointed at the marshmallow on top of Billy’s cocoa. The fire horse galloped down Vester’s arm, across his hand, then leapt a great leap across to the marshmallow, where with a final whinny it disappeared in a flash and a puff of smoke, leaving behind a perfectly-toasted marshmallow. Vester pulled a maraschino cherry from under the bar, placed it on top of the whole concoction, then held it out to Billy.

Billy took it, and tried a sip.

It was the best hot chocolate he had ever tasted. It was as though there was yet another Element of Power—the ChocolateEssence—and Billy was pouring liquefied Chocolate Power directly down his throat. It tasted so good that he sank into the nearest beanbag without even thinking about it. You just couldn’t drink this hot chocolate unless you were sitting in a comfy chair. Billy suddenly understood why they were at a top of a mountain, with a pot-bellied stove in the room: the whole anteroom was
designed
around the central idea of hot chocolate. And everyone knew, somewhere deep inside them, that a perfect hot chocolate was impossible without soft seats and a pot-bellied stove with a fire somewhere near, so you could be comfy and warm while looking out at a beautiful snow-blizzard.

It was a moment of pure bliss.

Unfortunately, it was shattered when Tempus said, to no one in particular, “I wonder what the Council is going to do about our young Mr. Jones?”

Billy was wondering the same thing. But before he could say anything, Vester frowned and said, “I’m more worried about what Eva said, about Wolfen returning.”

“Do you think it’s really possible?” asked Ivy, her voice quavering.

“Who is this Wolfen guy?” asked Billy.

“Well, it’s a bit hard to explain,” began Vester.

“Nonsense,” snorted Tempus. The old man’s indignant tone was somewhat marred by the brown chocolate cocoa mustache he now wore, and the dollop of whipped cream on the tip of his nose. “It’s not hard to explain at all.” He looked at Billy. “Wolfen is pure evil.”

He sat back with a smug smile, as if to say, “There, I told you it would be easy.”

Vester cleared his throat. “Yes…well…that’s true, but I suppose it might help Billy to know a
little
more than that. Just by way of background,” he hurried to add as Tempus’s face grew stormy. Tempus, almost sulky, buried his nose in his hot chocolate again.

Vester, too, took a long sip. “It was a bit before my time, really, I was younger than you were when it all happened, Billy.” His eyes grew far off. “To understand what happened then, however, I must tell you a bit of our history. You know there are six Elements: Earth, Wind, Water, Fire, Life, and Death. In the beginning of the Powers, it is said that the Powers waged war upon one another. Wind Powers would snuff out Fire, Fire would blister and destroy Life, Earth rose up to choke Fire, the Water made mountains into rivers, and Death…Death waited and added to the chaos, to collect her spoils.”

Vester drank a bit more of his chocolate, then put the mug aside. He looked out the window into the swirling snowflakes, and shivered, though Billy knew the fireman’s shudder had nothing to do with the cold outside.

As though they sensed Vester’s agitation, some of the giant snowflakes flinging about outside the anteroom joined together to form into what looked almost like a skull before exploding from one another and re-joining the mass of the blizzard.

“At any rate,” continued Vester, “eventually the Powers formed into two opposing sides: the Darksiders and the Dawnwalkers. No one knows why they came to be called that, but that is what they called themselves, and it continues to this day.” Vester gestured at the badge he wore, the one Billy had noticed at his Gleaning. “Dawnsider,” it said.

“They warred with one another, those two frightful armies. They laid waste to each other, and to the earth itself. You may have heard that a long time ago, all the earth’s continents were joined together in an enormous land mass called Pangea. The world’s scientists believe it broke apart millions of years ago because of the natural movement of the earth. We Powers believe that in reality, the fracture occurred during the time of these wars.”

“You believe?” asked Billy. “Wouldn’t you know? I got the feeling that the big book Mrs. Russet had out there was like, the ultimate history book. Couldn’t you just look in there and find out for sure?”

“The Book of the Earth,” nodded Tempus. “It contains much of history, for most of what has happened to the sons of men and the daughters of women has happened on the earth. But there are some things it does not contain: the history of the seas, for example. And as Vester said, the wars of the Powers ripped chasms in the planet. Earth herself was broken, and like many badly injured things, she cannot remember all that happened to her during that age of destruction.”

“Oh, it was a dreadful time,” said Ivy.

“You were there?” asked Billy in shock.

“No, but some of the oldest trees on Powers Island still whisper of it, of their grandparents who were seedlings when it all came about. Only Earth itself has a longer memory than the trees.” She shuddered. “The stories the trees have told me are horrifying.”

She couldn’t continue. Vester picked up as Billy listened raptly. Even the somewhat scatter-brained Tempus was listening attentively, his hot cocoa forgotten, the whipped cream on his nose dripping off slowly.

“Finally, one of the Powers rose and managed—by force in some cases—to stop the fighting.”

“The White King,” breathed Tempus.

“Just so,” said Vester. “He was called the White King because, just as what we see as white is really a combination of every color in the spectrum, the White King was the first—and only—Power who could control not just one Element, but all of them. He could not get the Powers to abandon their allegiances as Dawnwalkers or Darksiders, but he managed to forge an alliance of sorts, which we call the Truce. He called forth the strongest Power of each Element, and together those six wizards joined together, under the White King’s direction, and created Powers Island. He formed the Council, with one seat for each of the Elements, and one seat for himself. There the Powers could join and peacefully sort out their differences and make the rules that would govern the Powers. The White King tried to encourage the Powers to forget their differences and be as one, but there was a great disagreement that he could never overcome.”