Artemis Fowl 08 - The Last Guardian (23 page)

“A soul that aches to be released, Bruin. The light calls to us all. Some of my warriors have lost their wits, or close to it. We were never meant to be this long in the ground.”

“That time of deliverance is at hand, my friend. Our work is almost done. So, tell me, are the People yet under threat?”

“We are. Queen Opal speaks the truth.”

Bruin’s eyes narrowed. “But you are bonded, I see.”

“Yes, Bruin. I am in thrall to the queen.”

Bruin’s eyes flashed white in the stone. “I release you from your bonds so that we may speak freely.”

Not good, thought Opal.

Oro’s shoulders slumped, and it seemed as though every one of his years was written on Beckett’s face.

“The humans have weapons now,” said Oro, and it was strange to see the words coming from a mouth full of milk teeth. “They seem miraculous to me. In this young one’s memory I have seen that, without us to hunt readily, they kill each other by the thousands. They destroy the earth and have annihilated several thousand species.”

The stone face grew troubled. “Have they not changed?”

“They are more efficient than we remember, that is all.”

“Should I open the second lock?”

Oro rubbed his eyes. “This I cannot answer for you. It is true that Queen Opal has sabotaged their efforts, but already they mass against us. The gate has been assaulted twice, with two of our own among the attackers. An elf and a dwarf, both cunning adversaries.”

The stone face sighed, and white light flowed from its mouth. “Always have there been traitors.”

“We cannot hold on much longer,” admitted Oro. “Some of my warriors have already been called to Danu’s side. The world is in chaos and, if the humans attack the gate tomorrow, there will be none to defend it. With their new weapons, perhaps they will find a way to dismantle the second lock.”

Opal was quietly delighted, and if she could have clapped her tiny hands without seeming unqueenly, she would have. Oro was convincing this craggy idiot better than she ever could.

“The People wither and die without sunlight,” she added with a poker face. “Soon we will disappear altogether. Suffering is our daily ritual. We must ascend.”

Oro could only agree with this. “Yes. We must ascend.”

Bruin ruminated for a long moment and his stony features grated as he thought.

“Very well,” he said, finally. “I shall open the lock, but yours is the final choice, Queen Opal. When the end is in sight, then you must choose. Your soul shall bear the consequences, as mine already does.”

Yes, yes, yes, thought Opal, barely concealing her delighted eagerness.

“I am prepared for this responsibility,” she said somberly. And though she could not see it, Oro rolled his eyes behind her, all too aware that Opal did not have the People’s interests at heart. But her motivations were of little importance as the end result, the
extinction of humanity
, would be the same.

Bruin’s features were suddenly submerged in a pool of bubbling magma that bled into the rock to reveal two sunken handprints. Opal’s original key, and a fresh one glowing a deep bloodred.

“Choose selflessly,” said Bruin’s voice from deep within the stone. “Prudence will close the gate entirely, releasing the souls and destroying the path forever. Desperation will summon the power of Danu and wipe the humans from the face of our land. Fairies shall walk the earth again.”

Handprint B it is, thought Opal happily. I have always found desperation a wonderful motivator.

Now that the climax had actually arrived, Opal paused for a thrilling moment to savor it.

“This time it is impossible for me to lose,” she said to Oro. “Mommy’s gonna press the big button.”

Oro would have pressed the button himself just to stop Opal referring to herself as
Mommy
, but alas, only the fairy who opened the gate could activate the second lock.

Opal wiggled her fingers. “Here we go. Mommy’s ready.”

Then a voice called from the lip of the crater.

“The human is surrendering himself. And he’s brought the elf.”

Until that second, Opal had not realized that this moment was not quite perfect. But now it would be.

“Bring them to me,” she commanded. “I want them to see it coming.”

Artemis Fowl dragged a hooded figure along the ground, heels digging grooves in the earth. When they arrived at the crater that had been blasted by Opal’s arrival, one of the pirates nudged Artemis, and he went tumbling down the incline, his face slapping the dirt with each revolution. The second figure skidded beside him, and it seemed almost coordinated when they rolled to the foot of the Berserker Gate. They made a bedraggled, beaten pair. The second figure landed face up. It was Holly Short. Obviously the elf had not come willingly.

“Oh, my,” said Opal, giggling behind her fist. “Poor dears. How pathetic.”

Opal felt proud of herself that she still had some sympathy in her for others.

I actually feel bad for these people, she realized. Good for me.

Then Opal remembered how Artemis Fowl and Holly Short had been responsible for her years in maximum security confinement, and what she had been forced to do to secure her own release, and her
feeling bad for those people
evaporated like morning dew.

“Help them up,” Oro ordered Juliet, who was squatting to one side, eating a bloody rabbit.

“No!” said Opal shrilly. “Search the Mud Boy for weapons, then let them crawl to my feet. Let the boy beg for mankind. I want this one with blood on his knees and tears of despair on his face.”

The fairy spirits sensed that the end was near and soon their souls would finally be released from duty and granted peace. So they gathered at the base of the Berserker Gate in their borrowed bodies, forming the sealed magic circle. They watched as Artemis hefted Holly painfully up the stairs, his back bent with the effort.

I wish I could see his face, thought Opal. See what this is costing him.

Holly’s frame was limp as she bumped along the steps, and one leg dangled off the tower’s edge. She seemed small and frail, and her breathing was ragged. Opal allowed herself to imagine what Fowl had been forced to inflict on the elf in order to subdue her.

I turned them on themselves, she thought. The ultimate victory. And they did it for nothing, the fools.

Artemis reached the plateau and dropped Holly like a butcher’s sack. He turned to Opal, hatred written large on his normally impassive features.

“Here we are,
Your Majesty
,” he said, spitting the title. “I am surrendering myself, as ordered, and I have forced Holly to do the same.”

“And I am so glad to see you, Artemis. So very glad. This makes everything simply perfect.”

Artemis leaned, elbows on knees, panting for breath, blood dripping from his nose. “Holly said that you would never keep your word, but I tried to assure her that there was a chance at least, and so long as there was a chance we had no choice. She disagreed, and so I was forced to sedate my dearest friend.” Artemis made eye contact with the pixie. “Is there a chance, Opal?”

Opal laughed shrilly. “A chance? Oh gods, no. There was never a chance. I love you, Artemis. You are too funny.” She wiggled her fingers and sparks danced.

The color drained from Artemis’s face, and his hands shook from effort and anger.

“Don’t you care about the lives you take?”

“I don’t want to kill
everybody.
But either humans or fairies have to go, so that I can lead the others. I decided on your group because I already have quite a lot of support belowground. There’s a secret Web site, and you’d be amazed at some of the registered names.”

The remaining Berserkers gazed up from the crater, swaying slightly, muttering prayers to the goddess Danu. Two pirates suddenly dropped, clattering to the ground in a rattle of bones.

“My children are failing,” said Opal. “Time for Mommy to send them to heaven. Bellico, move the pesky boy genius back a little. It’s not likely that Artemis Fowl will actually launch a physical attack, but he does have a knack for destroying my beautiful plans.”

Juliet tossed Artemis backward into the dirt. No emotion showed on her face; she was simply unable to take any other course of action.

“Should I kill the Mud Boy?” she asked dispassionately.

“Absolutely not,” said Opal. “I want him to see. I want him to feel the ultimate despair.”

Artemis rolled to his knees. “Humans are no threat to you, Opal. Most of us don’t even know fairies exist.”

“Oh, they do now. Our shuttleports are all wide open without their shields. I have revealed our existence to the Mud People, so now there is no choice but to eliminate them. It’s simple logic.”

Juliet placed a foot on Artemis’s back, flattening him to the earth. “He is dangerous, my queen. And if the elf traitor wakes, she could harm you.”

Opal pointed at the terra-cotta warriors. “You restrain the elf, and have those moving statues hold the boy. Mommy wishes to do a little grandstanding. It’s clichéd, I know, but after this I’ll probably have to be regal and selfless in public.”

Juliet lifted Holly by the scruff of the neck, easily hefting her aloft. Two Chinese warriors pinioned Artemis between them, holding him powerless in their grips of baked clay, with only his hands and feet mobile.

He can do nothing, thought Opal, satisfied.

“Bring them here,” she commanded. “I want them both to see me cleanse the planet.”

Artemis struggled ineffectually, but Holly’s head lolled in its hood, which was a little annoying for Opal, as she would have preferred to see the elf wide awake and terrified.

Opal positioned herself by the raised dais, tapping her fingers on the stone like a concert pianist. She worked on the Berserker Gate as she spoke, dipping her hands into the rock, which became molten where she touched.

“Humans had magic once,” she said. Perhaps she should gag Artemis’s smart mouth in case he contaminated her buoyant mood with some of his snide observations. Though by the vacant look on this Mud Boy’s face, the
snide
had been beaten out of him.

“That’s right. Humans wielded magic almost as well as demons. That’s why Bruin Fadda put so many hexes on this lock. His reasoning being that if any human grew powerful enough to decipher the enchantments, then Bruin had no choice but to unleash the power of Danu, for the good of the People.” Opal smiled fondly at the Berserker Gate. “It looks simple now, like a child’s toy,” she said. “Just two handprints on a rock table. But the computations I had to work out. Foaly could never have managed it, I can tell you. That ridiculous centaur has no idea what it took to solve this puzzle: enchanted runes in several dimensions, quantum physics, magic math. I doubt there are four people in the world who could have brought that old fool Bruin back to life. And I had to do it all mentally. Without screens or paper. Some of it telepathically, through my younger self. You know, I didn’t even lose my memories when she died, and I thought I would. Strange, isn’t it?”

Artemis did not reply. He had retreated into bruised sulky silence.

“So here’s how it works,” said Opal brightly, as though explaining a math problem to her kindergarten group. “If I choose the first handprint, then I close the gate forever and all fairy souls inside the circle are released—except mine, of course, as I am protected by black magic. But if I choose the scary red hand, then the power of Danu is unleashed, but on humans only. It’s a pity we won’t see too much from here, but at least I can watch you die and imagine the magic’s effect on everyone else.”

Artemis wrenched one arm free of the clay warrior’s grip, tearing his sleeve and a layer of flesh. Before anyone could react, he placed his own hand in the Berserker Gate’s first lock.

Of course nothing happened, aside from Opal barking with laughter.

“You don’t understand, stupid boy. Only I can choose. Not you, not that pathetic centaur, Foaly, not your little elf friend. Only Opal Koboi. That is the whole point. She who opens the lock controls the gate. It is coded right down to my very DNA.” Opal’s tiny face grew purple with self-importance and her pointed chin shook. “I am the messiah. And I will shed blood so that the People may worship me. I will build my temple around this silly gate that leads nowhere and they can parade school tours past to learn about me.”

Artemis had a single strand of defiance left in him.

“I could close it,” he grunted. “Given a few minutes.”

Opal was nonplussed. “You could…you could close it? Weren’t you listening? Didn’t I make it simple enough? No one can close it but me.”

Artemis seemed unimpressed. “I could figure it out. One more hour, ten minutes even. Holly is a fairy, she has magic. I could have used her hand and my brain. I know I could. How difficult could it be if you managed it? You’re not even as smart as Foaly.”

“Foaly!” screamed Opal. “Foaly is a buffoon. Fiddling around with his gadgets when there are entire dimensions left unexplored.”

“I apologize, Holly,” said Artemis formally. “You warned me, and I wouldn’t listen. You were our only chance, and I tricked you.”

Opal was furious. She skirted the Chinese warriors to where Juliet stood holding Holly, whose head was dangling.

“You think this ridiculous
thing
could ever have accomplished what I have accomplished?”

“That is Captain Holly Short of the Lower Elements Police,” said Artemis. “Show some respect. She beat you before.”

“This is not
before
,” said Opal emphatically. “This is now. The end of days for humanity.” She grabbed Holly’s hand and slapped it vaguely in the area of the handprint on the Berserker Gate. “Oh, look at that. The gate is not closing. Holly Short has no power here.” Opal laughed cruelly. “Oh, poor, pretty Holly. Imagine, if only your hand would activate the gate, then your suffering could end right now.”

“We could do it,” mumbled Artemis, but his eyes were closing, and it seemed as though he had lost faith in himself. His free hand tapped a distracted rhythm on the stone. The human’s mind had finally snapped.

“Ridiculous,” said Opal, calming herself. “And here I am, getting flustered by your claims. You vex me, Artemis, and I will be glad when you are dead.”