Billy: Messenger of Powers (17 page)

Ivy drew him toward the Diamond Dais. Billy saw that it was still split in two, with that strange crystal spire sticking up in the middle of it. He had unconsciously expected that the dais would have been fixed somehow, so was a bit surprised to see that it was still cracked and marred.

The Councilors all sat on their thrones, watching Billy, Ivy, Tempus, and Vester approach. Eva Black and Nehara the Blue Power had apparently not returned after leaving, since the thrones of Death and Water stood empty. But all the others were there: Veric, the Green Councilor of Life; Dismus, the Gray Councilor who represented the Wind; Fulgora the Red, the beautiful Fire Councilor; and Mrs. Russet—Lumilla the Brown. The four of them sat rigidly, looking very official and more than a little scary to Billy.

Billy caught himself gulping. He tried to imagine that Blythe Forrest was watching him, and managed to straighten his back and put on a brave face. This time, at least, he didn’t have to climb up onto the top of the diamond platform on his own. A soft ramp of leaves rose up before him. He glanced at Ivy, who squeezed his arm and winked. He smiled in thanks.

His smile disappeared, however, as Ivy withdrew her arm from his and gave him a gentle nudge toward the platform. Billy walked up the leafy ramp, and stood at the edge of the platform.

“Mr. Jones,” said Mrs. Russet. Billy turned to face her. “We have a bit of a problem. Most people who come here arrive because they have Glimmered, or have shown a Power. You have done neither, at least not in a way that we can verify. Ordinarily that would mean you would not remain here. We would send you back to where you live, with a spell over your memory so that you would never remember any of this, or would think it merely a dream.”

Billy was surprised to hear how much Mrs. Russet’s words dismayed him. As frightening and strange as this day had been, it had also been wonderful and exhilarating. He couldn’t bear the idea of never remembering the anteroom and its hot chocolate, or the amazing boxing match between rock giants, or the three new friends who now stood behind him.

His concern must have shown on his face, because Mrs. Russet’s expression softened. “Don’t worry, Mr. Jones. We’re not going to do that to you. Events of the day have convinced us that we must keep an eye on you, and test you to find out if you are a Power, or a normal human being, or something else entirely. So we are going to declare you unDetermined, both as to whether you have control over one of the Elements, and as to your eventual affiliation with either the Darksiders or Dawnwalkers.”

“But I don’t want to be a Darksider,” Billy blurted without thinking about it. He immediately snapped his mouth shut, ashamed of his outburst.

Mrs. Russet nodded approvingly. “Well, that will be decided at a later time, if at all. As I said, for now you are unDetermined.”

She stamped her crystal staff against the diamond floor in front of her earthy throne. Billy felt a warm sensation on his chest and looked down. The badge he had worn since he had arrived at Powers Island was changing. It had only said “Billy” all this time. But now the badge brightened, the word “unDetermined” appearing after his name.

“What does unDetermined mean?” asked Billy.

“Normally, it means that someone has Glimmered, but we haven’t determined what Element they control,” replied Mrs. Russet. “In your case. Well…,” she shrugged. “It means we really don’t know anything at all about you. But what we have decided to do,” she continued, waving her staff to indicate that the decision was coming from the whole Council, “is treat you as though you
have
Glimmered.”

“And what does that mean?” asked Billy.

“That you will be tested,” replied Mrs. Russet.

She reached into her robe, and withdrew a small brown band. She gestured for Billy to approach. When he did, she held out the band, and the thing literally leaped through the air, attaching itself to Billy’s wrist, becoming a seamless bracelet. It felt like plastic, but pulsed with strange warmth, as though it were alive. “The bracelet means you are unDetermined. But it is Brown because I—a Brown Power—am your Sponsor,” said Mrs. Russet.

“My Sponsor?” asked Billy.

“I will be your guide and adviser through the testing process,” answered Mrs. Russet.

Billy heard Tempus whisper, “Lucky,” in a jealous half-whisper. Mrs. Russet glared over Billy’s shoulder at the old man. “What?” asked Tempus, trying to look innocent and failing dismally. “Well, my Sponsor was a Power named Dopey the Blue.” He shuddered. “At least, I think that was his name. It was what everyone else called him, anyway.”

“Returning to business,” said Mrs. Russet, with a warning glance at Tempus. The old Wind Power fell silent, his toe scratching absently on the ground in front of him, looking to Billy like a little kid whose mother has just scolded him.

Mrs. Russet took Billy’s hand in hers. “I know this is all very strange to you, Mr. Jones. But the events of today are unusual.” She looked at the crack in the Diamond Dais, the strange spire in its middle. “There are prophecies that seem to be coming to fulfillment, and you seem likely to be at the middle of them.”

“Unless Eva Black was right, and it is really Wolfen who is the Messenger, and he has come back,” interjected Fulgora, the Red Councilor still mesmerizing in her beauty even as she spoke words that obviously discomfited the rest of the Council.

Mrs. Russet looked at the Red Lady, frowning. “I do not think that is so. I certainly hope that it is not. Wolfen is in exile, and I hope never to hear from him or of him again.”

There was a murmur of agreement from Veric the Green Councilor, as well as from Dismus, the Gray Wind Councilor.

Then, at that moment, a noise like rushing wind came from the Black Throne. The dark orb that had heralded Eva Black’s arrival reappeared. As before, it grew, coalescing into a human form. Mrs. Black soon could be seen, and then her outlines solidified into the woman that Billy was already coming to fear and loathe.

But she looked very different now. Gone was the aristocratic sneer, the disdainful gaze. Now, she looked distraught, even afraid. Her hair, previously so perfectly combed and styled, was a bit mussed, with stray locks of hair now billowing around her face. “Stop,” she said. “Don’t go forward with the boy.”

“We told you,” said Mrs. Russet angrily. “You left, and we were forced to make decisions without you.”

“But, but,” said Mrs. Black, almost whimpering. Billy saw the other Councilors’ eyes narrowing, clearly surprised at how Mrs. Black was acting. Their surprise grew as she started to sniffle. “But Wolfen…” she began, then began crying in earnest.

“What of him?” demanded Veric, his leafy arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“He appeared to me,” sobbed Mrs. Black.

“WHAT?”

Billy wasn’t sure who screamed that. Maybe everyone. Certainly every person nearby was now on their feet.

“He appeared to you?” demanded Mrs. Russet. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to Vester. “Vester, get to the Accounting Room. Find out how many Darksiders are on Powers Island. We may have to evacuate if Wolfen is attacking.”

“No, no!” shouted Mrs. Black. “You don’t understand. He’s not here to take his rightful place as Lord over all Powers.” Everyone paused, staring at the destroyed-looking Death Councilor. “He’s here to…to….” she shook her head, clearly not able to believe what she was about to say. “To swear allegiance!”

“What?” said Mrs. Russet, shocked.

Before Eva Black could say anything more, a rainbow of color appeared over everyone’s heads. It was like watching a nebula in deep space, a writhing cloud of many-colored gases that swirled in upon themselves. A rushing sound, like a sandstorm blowing a great dust cloud in front of it, emerged from the sight. And then a man floated down, dropping gently to the Diamond Dais beside Billy.

“Great Powers,” whispered Veric in a quiet curse. “It’s him. It’s Wolfen.”

Billy shrank away from the man beside him, but at the same time couldn’t help but look closely at him, fascinated by the person who had caused so much havoc and fear among the Powers. Wolfen appeared to be in his mid-fifties, a wiry, lithe, tall man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair that hung down to the middle of his back, tied tightly into a braid. He wore a black suit of soft-looking cloth, with a velvety white cloak draped over it. His eyes were green, crackling with intelligence, and his face was twisted with the remnants of a life lived in the shadow of hatred for those around him.

He looked at Billy. “Are you the boy?” he whispered.

Billy took another step back. He felt Mrs. Russet stand up from her throne, holding her crystal staff aloft. “Do not touch him!” she shouted. “He is not one of yours. You were exiled, sentenced to death should you ever return to Powers Island or speak to any Power again!”

Billy grew aware that Veric the Green and Dismus the Gray Councilors were also on their feet, the two of them standing close to Mrs. Russet, all of them tensed for battle. Fulgora, the Red Councilor, stayed on her throne, watching with interest, but without apparent fear.

Wolfen held up his hands. “I am not here to fight, and I have not broken the terms of my exile,” he said quickly. “The terms of the exile were not that I could never return, or speak to another Power. It was that I could never return
except
to this one place, the Diamond Dais, where the combined might of the Council would keep me from doing any more harm.” He paused, his eyes downcast, repentance and sorrow written large across his face. “I am very sorry that such a thing was necessary, and even more sorry that it was necessary because of things I myself did.”

He looked up. “And it is for that reason that I have come here today. I have heard the rocks speak this day. I have heard the waves shout their secrets, and the trees whisper their words of warning, and I knew that prophecies were being fulfilled. I suspected that the Messenger was coming.” Wolfen looked at Billy. “Is this he?” he asked. “The Object of Prophecy, the Messenger of the White King?”

Mrs. Russet paused, taken aback by Wolfen’s meek and mild countenance. “We don’t know,” she replied simply. “He may be.”

Wolfen bowed deeply to Billy. “If you are, I wish you well, my boy. For if you are the Messenger, then difficult times are upon the Powers.”

He looked at the other Councilors. “But he is in no danger from me.” Wolfen went down on one knee, kneeling on the diamond platform, and bowed his head. He rested his hands on the faceted ground below him. “I have been exiled, and I have kept the terms of the exile. I further swear allegiance to the Council and to its rules.”

As he said this, the Diamond Dais began flashing, pulsing like a strobe light. Then the flashing stopped, and the entire dais changed from clear to a deep, lovely green.

“He speaks the truth,” whispered Dismus the Gray Councilor, shock apparent in his eyes. “The dais only glows green with the power of truth.”

Wolfen nodded. His hands still touching the dais, he continued. “I know that it will do little to pay for the great harms that I have done, but I wanted you all to know. I have kept my exile. I will continue to keep it as long as it is in my power to do so, and will never put my will above that of the Council or the terms of the Truce.” He looked over at Billy, a surprising kindness in the Power’s eyes, and said, “And this boy has nothing to fear from me now, for I have truly changed my ways of old.”

Billy saw Mrs. Russet looking down, staring at the dais, clearly waiting for it to change. But it stayed green. She finally looked up at Wolfen, appearing unsure what to say.

“Wolfen…,” she began, but could go no further. Billy tried to imagine what was going through her mind. How would she respond to someone who had apparently single-handedly started a war that killed and enslaved so many people?

Wolfen slowly stood. As he did so, the Diamond Dais returned to its original crystalline transparency. He bowed deeply to Mrs. Russet, Veric, and Dismus. Then he turned to Fulgora. “Still as beautiful as ever, Fulgora Candil. May your fire burn always bright.”

Then he swiveled to face Mrs. Black. She was still sobbing, her face buried in her hands. He walked to her, laying a hand softly upon the crown of her head. “Eva,” he whispered. “I was wrong. Hate was wrong, the War was wrong. I have seen that in these long years alone.” He ran his hands along her hair. “Don’t be sad, Eva. There must be hope, even in Death. The Truce is a thing of hope, and I hope that you will forgive my transgressions.”

Mrs. Black pulled away from him suddenly. “No!” she screamed. Her face was streaked with tears and dark lines of makeup had run down her cheeks. “I don’t know what they’ve done to you, but I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you! I don’t!” She rubbed her dark broach and disappeared without a word, leaving Wolfen with his hand still out, standing before an empty black throne.

Wolfen sighed. He turned back to Billy and the three Councilors who stood behind him on the dais. “I am sorry. She was one of my supporters. She stood with many of the young Darksiders that I corrupted. Forgive her, her sins are not of her own making. They are mine to bear.”