Billy: Messenger of Powers (70 page)

Billy and Tempus, now near the beach of Powers Island, swooped down to grab another rock. And as they did, Billy saw something in the dark waves that were pounding up to the rocky shores nearby. The waves hissed and burbled, and Billy felt a thrill of hope.

Artemaeus! he thought. The whale had saved him and his friends before, so maybe he had come again in this hour of desperate need. Billy didn’t know what a bunch of whales could do, but he had sensed the age, wisdom, and power of Artemaeus, and knew that such a force would find some way to help.

Then, a moment later, he realized it wasn’t Artemaeus. Nor was it Blue, the mermaid of the deep.

The forms broke through the surf, their dark shapes barely visible in the night. They slogged out of the water, their bodies shining as moonlight and the fires of battle refracted off their wet bodies and revealed without a doubt what new force had arrived at the island.

Oh, no, Billy thought.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH

But how? was Billy’s first thought. How can it be possible?

He knew magic changed many of the rules, but he also had come to understand that though the rules of magic were different, still they did exist. But
this
…this seemed to go against all the rules.

Not only that, it just seemed downright unfair.

It was zombies. Thousands of them. Their insectile eyes glistened like dark oozing sores, and their mottled skin looked even more hideous when illuminated in the fires of war.

Above him, Billy heard Tempus gasp, and felt the Gray Power lurch for a moment, surprise clearly gripping him as well.

And below, the creatures of the Dark moved up the beach in that horrible lurching gait that Billy had come to know and fear. They climbed out of the sea, and then up the beachhead in knots of tens and twenties, and as soon as they had scaled the beach they broke into smaller groups, the evil new army exploding like a dark nova. The undead forces quickly reached the fringes of the battle and began extending their deadly touch to the Dawnwalkers all around them.

How? Billy thought again. They were washed off Dark Isle. Washed into the sea.

And then he realized:
they were washed into the sea
. They were already creatures of Death, and didn’t need air. So they had been merely pushed out, and sunk to the depths. And just as several of them had managed to clamber up and attack Billy and his friends when they were stuck on Dark Isle, what would stop the rest of the creatures from simply walking back onto Dark Isle as well, and then being deployed as an encircling army by Wolfen and his followers? Or even just walking straight to Powers Island?

Either way, the horrible creatures were here now, and once again the tide of the battle turned against the forces of the Dawn. The red warriors and the Dawnwalkers had already been harried by the Darksiders. They had had their numbers stolen by the Death’s Head Moths. And now they were having their remaining numbers culled by the devastating touch of the zombies.

Not only that, but Billy could feel Tempus losing steam above him. The old man was drifting lower and lower with each bombing run, and having more and more trouble avoiding the lightning strikes that were hurled from above and the Death attacks thrown from below. On one occasion, Billy saw a black-garbed Black Power hurl one of Death’s terrible spells at them, and could feel it barely miss him. Tempus cried out and almost dropped Billy, but then managed to grab onto him again. “It’s all right, just a scratch,” the old man yelled. But Billy could hear the quaver in Tempus’s voice, and knew that their attacks, pitiful and unhelpful as they might be, had drawn attention. They couldn’t continue on much longer.

The two dropped down for another rock, and once again scored a bulls-eye: a zombie crumpled to the ground. But once again, the victory was temporary, as the creature slowly stood and continued its relentless pursuit of the Dawnwalkers’ forces.

“Can’t keep this up,” wheezed Tempus. His flight was now disturbingly wobbly, and Billy knew that they would be going down soon.

“Head toward the tower!” shouted Billy. He didn’t know how he could be of any help once he got there—the only real help he’d given was because of Tempus’s powers, and not any qualities of his own—but he knew he wanted to end things as close to his friends as possible. And Vester, Ivy, and Mrs. Russet were still—he hoped—fighting on the top of the tower. So the tower was where he should be.

Tempus banked, pulling Billy and himself wearily to the center of Powers Island. And as they passed over the island Billy could see that not only had the battle turned, it was now all but lost. The Darksiders’ forces appeared almost untouched, while the Dawnwalkers were running away, disappearing as they Transported off the island, or just huddling in magically-exhausted groups, awaiting destruction.

Tempus dipped toward the ground, and once more Billy grabbed a rock from below. They were near the tower now, flying around the base of the huge structure. The fighting was at its most intense here, since the remaining Dawnwalkers who had any fight left in them had withdrawn into a circle around the tower, the giant edifice providing some cover at their backs. But it also allowed for no further retreat.

Billy could see Fulgora, her red lion weary and dim, the light snuffing out of it like a candle flame whose wick has burned out within it. But the Red Lady herself looked as angrily determined to fight to the end as ever.

Billy passed his rock bomb from hand to hand, looking for the best place to drop it, knowing that this would be the last one. Then he and Tempus would fall to earth, to fight and probably die in a lost cause.

But at least I’ll be with friends, thought Billy. At least I won’t be alone.

The thought was oddly comforting. His whole life, he had longed for friends, for people who would stand by him in the halls and invite him to the events of their lives.

Now, he had found such friends, and more. People who would stand by him in the battles of Power, and would invite him to stand with them and face doom together.

As he thought this, Billy spotted a Darksider that looked like a good candidate for a rock on the head. It was a man who was threatening a small knot of Dawnwalker kids who looked like they were about Billy’s age. Billy pointed them out, and Tempus nodded and swung in for their final bombing run.

Billy hefted his rock, taking careful aim….

And then he almost dropped it. Not purposefully—had he dropped it in that instant he would have missed his target by a mile—but in surprise.

Because the rock moved.

Billy yelped in shock as he looked down and saw that the rock was staring at him. Its two craggy eyes were glaring at him as if to say, “I was just sitting there, doing my own thing, and you go and grab me! Who do you think you are?”

Then, even more surprising, Billy felt the rock sprout small arms and legs. Then more arms and legs. And then still more arms and legs.

“What the…?” began Billy.

Then the creature kicked Billy in the hand. Billy yelped again, this time in pain, and dropped the tiny monster. And as it fell, Billy realized what it was. Because as it fell, the creature yelled out what sounded a lot like “Banzai!” in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

It was a Kung Fu Cleaner. In fact, Billy now realized it was the leader of the Kung Fu Cleaners: the one who had first appeared when Billy had spilled hot chocolate in the anteroom in a desperate attempt to escape Wolfen.

The tiny Fizzle hit the rocky ground below with a tiny puff of dust, landing on a cliff on the side of a short mountain. And where he fell, Billy saw something unusual.

“Down!” he yelled at Tempus.

“But what about—” began the Gray Power.

“DOWN!” hollered Billy, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Tempus shrugged and took them down, dropping them lightly within inches of where the tiny Fizzle had fallen. The Fizzle was still there, waiting as the rock ground near it—and near Billy and Tempus—bubbled and rolled like a wave on the beach. A blob of rock rose up, and then started to take shape. It grew arms, then legs, then a head. Features started to appear, as though the stone was being sculpted by an invisible artist, a work of art created without hands.

And then the artist finished its work, and the figure became clear.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” shouted Billy in delight.

And so it was. The bent, withered old man had come from the depths of his cleaning room at last, and now surveyed the island.

“What’s going on?” Tempus was saying. “Who is this?”

Billy ignored him, watching the new arrival. Rumpelstiltskin seemed not to have noticed Billy yet. The old man just reached down and picked up the Kung Fu Cleaner that Billy had mistakenly grabbed, and put it on his shoulder like a bizarre parrot.

“My, my, my,” said Rumpelstiltskin. Now he noticed Billy. “Don’t I know you?” he asked.

“It’s me, Billy,” said Billy.

“No, you’re not Billy,” said the tiny old man. “I know Billy, and you’re nothing like him. He was surrounded by Fizzles.”

Billy rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to get into was a discussion like that again. “Forget it,” he said. “What are you doing here?” And then he paused before adding, “Are you here to try to help Mrs. Russet?”

“Help Mrs. Russet?” said Rumpelstiltskin quizzically. “Who in the world is Mrs. Russet, and why would she need helping?”

Billy’s heart fell. He had hoped, somehow, that Terry had in fact come. But Terry wasn’t here, only Rumpelstiltskin.

The ancient man was now looking around the island. “What in the name of all Powers is going on?” he asked.

“A battle,” began Billy, but he couldn’t say more than that. It was over, the war was over, Wolfen had won. And he stood here talking to an insane old man on a cliff. He wasn’t even going to end things at his friends’ sides, and be with them when doom came for them all.

“A battle, eh?” said Terry. He leaned his head to one side, toward the Fizzle on his shoulder, and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Pip.”

The Kung Fu Cleaner squeaked, clearly saying something along the lines of “Don’t worry about it.”

Rumpelstiltskin then said, “A battle, eh?” again. Then he cocked his head to one side and said, “Didn’t someone just say that?”

“You did,” said Billy in a tired, frustrated voice.

“Who is this?” asked Tempus, who had been following all this with confusion on his face.

“It’s—” Billy began, but that was as far as he got before he heard a loud, wordless scream. He whirled to see Rumpelstiltskin hopping up and down in rage.

“Look at this!” hollered the wrinkled old man. “Look at what they’re doing!” He whirled on Billy. “Are you responsible for this?” he demanded.

Billy had no idea what Rumpelstiltskin was blathering on about. But he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “The Darksiders did it,” he said.