Billy: Messenger of Powers (30 page)

“Then that means….” Billy couldn’t finish his thought for a moment. It was just too fearful. Ivy had said that the zombies had touched Mrs. Russet. So the thing Billy said next was the easy conclusion to that line of thought: “Mrs. Russet—and all the other Powers in the stadium who were touched—they’re…they’re…
dead
? Like Ivy’s plant?” he added, thinking of the huge flytrap that had wilted upon eating the zombie.

Tempus frowned and chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Not necessarily,” he said at last. “Most Imbued Objects don’t have the full strength of their makers. So most zombies can’t kill with their touch. They’re more likely to induce paralysis or a coma or mere unconsciousness. Though some, more powerfully Imbued,” he continued unhappily, “could conceivably cause death.”

“Then, we don’t know what happened to Mrs. Russet. Or Veric the Green, or, or….”

“Dismus,” prompted Tempus. “Dismus the Gray Councilor. No, we don’t know what happened to them. We only know what Ivy said before she had to recuperate her strength.” He smiled, a clearly faked grin that Billy knew was solely for his benefit. “But, as I’ve said, Lumilla and the others are tough, so I wouldn’t worry yourself overmuch, at least not now.”

“Why would anyone even want to make something as horrible as a zombie?” asked Billy.

“Well, for one thing,” answered Tempus, “they make excellent manual workers for certain jobs. Not for everything, mind you. You wouldn’t want a zombie babysitter, for instance, or a zombie gardener. Not unless you like dead and rotting tomatoes—which aren’t as bad as they sound, by the way. This one time, I was at a very popular little restaurant on Powers Island, a nice old place called GreenPower Inn….”

His voice drifted off as a moan sounded nearby. Both Billy and Tempus looked over and saw that it was Fulgora. She moaned again, twitched, then fell silent once more. Vester, still holding her head in his lap, felt her pulse, then put his hand on her forehead. “I think she’s coming out of it,” he said. But to Billy’s ears, the statement sounded like it was more hopeful than realistic.

“As I was saying,” Tempus finally said. “Zombies are wonderful at certain things. Harvesting diamonds, for instance, or digging ditches. Some of them have even served as legislators, though not as often as you’d think.” He smiled, probably remembering some rambling anecdote about a zombie mayor or something. Billy was glad not to hear the whole story, however. He was more interested in the details of what made a zombie, because he suspected that he would be seeing more of them.

“So zombies are slaves,” he said.

“Correct,” replied Vester. “Very good, my boy. We’ll make a Power out of you yet,” he said, clapping Billy on the shoulder. “Yes, they’re slaves. But they’re also the bodies of the dead, so you have two very disturbing things: one, that someone wants a slave. After all, if you want a slave to mine your diamonds, then you’re probably going to end up wanting a slave to tend your garden, and that a zombie cannot do. So…”

“So you’re going to try to make slaves out of non-zombies—er, people,” said Billy.

“Yes,” agreed Tempus. “And the second disturbing thing about zombies is that the bodies of dead Powers are used to make them. Throughout recorded history, one of the things that has been seen as an abomination to all people everywhere has been the desecration of the remains of those who have gone before.”

“It’s a disgusting practice,” said a weak voice.

Billy jumped, then said, “Ivy! You’re awake!”

Ivy grimaced at Billy’s shout. She looked like she had a serious headache. “Zombies are an affront to Life,” she said, her hands pressing at her temples. Then, slowly, with Tempus’s and Billy’s aid, she sat up. She looked at Fulgora. “How is she?” she asked. Before waiting for an answer, one of Ivy’s clothing-vines snaked toward Fulgora, touching the Red Lady’s cheek. “She’ll live,” said Ivy confidently.

Vester looked extremely relieved at this news. “Can you tell us any more?” he said to Ivy. “About what happened at the tower?”

Ivy shook her head. “Not much. The zombies touched the Councilors, and I saw a few of the creatures put objects—they must have been Transport keys—on Lumilla and Tempus and my Father.”

“How do you know they were Transport keys?” asked Tempus.

“Because the Councilors all disappeared,” snapped Ivy. “And I’d prefer to think they were Transported, instead of just disintegrated or some such.”

“Prisoners of war,” said Vester quietly. Everyone looked at him.

“Vester,” Ivy began warningly. But Tempus silenced her with an upraised hand, the old man’s usually jolly face unusually somber.

“Ivy,” he said. “I know you don’t want it to be so. The Life Powers are—happily—eternally optimistic about others’ motives. But there aren’t enough Black Powers in the world to have created so many zombies, unless they’ve been planning this for some time. And the Darksiders
did
all disappear. And you yourself saw Wolfen on the tower.”

“But the Diamond Dais, like you said, it was green. Wolfen wasn’t lying when he swore fealty, when he promised he hadn’t broken the terms of his Exile,” said Ivy.

“I know how it looked, my dear. But if anyone could fool the Diamond Dais, it would have to be Wolfen, that craftiest of Powers.” Tempus looked at Vester. “I believe you were right, my fiery friend. We’re at war.” He sighed, and smoothed his shirt again. “And Lumilla and the others are likely prisoners.”

Billy, in a sudden flash of insight, remembered the scars, those terrible glowing scars on Tempus’s stomach. From the last War of the Powers. He suddenly realized that on those occasions that Tempus had rubbed at his stomach, the old man wasn’t habitually smoothing his shirt, he was feeling his
scars
. Billy trembled at the thought of his good friend undergoing the horrible tortures that would leave such vivid reminders after so many years.

“Then what do we do?” asked Ivy in a small voice.

“We burn everything.”

Billy turned. He half-expected Vester to have said something like this a while ago, but the voice he heard wasn’t Vester’s.

“Fulgora!” said the fireman, tenderly helping the woozy Red Lady to her feet. “We were so worried,” he managed to say, his voice almost choked with emotion.

Fulgora looked around her. “Chikurachki?” she asked Vester.

“What’s Chikurachki?” blurted Billy. “Some kind of spell?”

Fulgora looked vaguely amused and more than a little irritated, as though the young Power was not used to people speaking unless she had specifically invited them to do so. “It’s the name of this volcano,” answered Vester. “It’s in Russia.”

Billy was almost disappointed by that answer. He had though “Chikurachki” must be a spell name or a code word or something. But no, just a volcano.

“Good job,” said Fulgora. “Uhhh…,” she continued, looking at Vester. Billy saw the fireman’s shoulders slump, and realized with horror that the Red Councilor didn’t even know his friend’s name!

“It’s Vester,” said Billy, almost shouting the words. Then he added just as fervently, “And he saved your life!”

“Really?” asked the Red Lady in a tone that scorched Billy’s ears. But she looked at Vester with something like interest in her eyes. “And how did you save me?” she asked amusedly.

“Um, well,” said Vester. Billy was somewhat disheartened to see that Vester talked to Fulgora almost exactly the same way that Billy talked to Blythe. Both he and the firemen sounded like cavemen that had been run over by woolly mammoths one too many times. Billy had thought he would surely grow out of that kind of reaction to girls. So the fact that the very brave and clearly strong and smart fireman couldn’t put a sentence together in front of his true love was fairly depressing.

“What do you remember?” asked Tempus, the Gray Power jumping to his friend’s aid.

Fulgora’s eyes narrowed. “I remember that horse’s behind Napalm Challenging me. And I remember that he ringed me with fire. And then….” She struggled to remember more, then at last shrugged her lovely shoulders. “Nothing.”

“My dear,” said Tempus. “You became a dragon.”

Fulgora laughed, a deep, throaty laugh that seemed even to Billy like the promise of a beautiful tomorrow. And if it affected
him
like that, couldn’t imagine how such a laugh would affect Vester. He sneaked a glance at his friend. Sure enough, Vester looked like he was about to go into a happiness-induced coma.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the Red Lady. “No one has ever become a dragon and then come back.”

“You did,” blurted Vester. Fulgora looked at him sharply. Vester looked down, apparently suddenly discovering something incredibly fascinating about his shoes. “My Lady,” he added.

“Indeed,” said Tempus. “You won the Challenge, but were unconscious. So when the zombies attacked—”

“Zombies?” said Fulgora in a near shout. “Zombies attacked?”

“Yes, dear,” said Tempus patiently. “I thought you heard us talking about that, and that’s why you said ‘We burn everything’ when you awoke.”

“Oh, that,” said Fulgora dismissively. “I say that all the time when I wake up. I just like the sound of it.” She focused an intense look on Tempus. “So what’s this about zombies?”

“There was an attack,” said Tempus haltingly, even the old Gray Power apparently not completely immune to Fulgora’s charms. “Zombies—we think led by Darksiders—came into the stadium and attacked.”

“How do you know it was the Darksiders behind it?” demanded the Red Lady.

“Well,” answered Ivy, slowly rising to her feet, “aside from the fact that only Death Powers can make a zombie, and most of them are Darksiders, the fact is that zombies also attacked the Council at the same time, and carried away all the Dawnwalkers.”

“Impossible,” scoffed Fulgora.

“Not impossible,” insisted Tempus. “It happened, as sure as the wind on my face. And Vester,” he added, pointing at the fireman, who was still examining his feet like the secrets of the universe were written on his sneakers, “risked his own life to save you from the undead creatures.”

Fulgora looked at Vester with a new look on her face. Not appreciation, exactly, but Billy thought she looked interested in hearing more of Vester’s part in her rescue. But she didn’t ask any further questions. Instead, she murmured, “I must find out more.”

And with that, she suddenly strode to the edge of the ledge and jumped off.

Billy heard himself holler and lunge forward in a vain attempt to stop Fulgora’s suicidal leap. He missed, though, and saw her plunge downward, hitting the lava below and disappearing instantly. He lost his balance then, and might have followed her right off the edge, had Vester not snatched him back.

“She’s all right,” said the fireman. “She’s a Red Power. The lava won’t hurt her. She’s probably Cresting.” Then, off Billy’s confused look, he explained, “It’s a spell that some Reds can do. Riding the fires that heat the earth. She’ll pop out in some other volcano, or a hot spring somewhere.”

“But,” stuttered Billy, “she didn’t even
thank
you.”

Vester shrugged. “She’s a Councilor, and perhaps one of the most powerful Reds ever. Why would she even talk to me?”

Billy suddenly knew what he looked like to other people, hopeless and wallowing in self-pity, however well-warranted it might be. He didn’t like it. “Hey,” he said to Vester. “You were looking down so you didn’t see, but,” he winked, “she almost smiled at you.”

“Really?” asked Vester, for all the world looking like he was Billy’s age again. Then his shoulders drooped. “Well, that’s probably because she remembers seeing me in school.”