فصل هجدهم

chapter-18-soul-survivor

Fowl Manor; Ninety-Eight Minutes Later

Artemis was making final preparations in his office, updating his will and trying to master his feelings, tamping down a flat gray sky of sadness that threatened to cloud his resolve. He knew that Dr. Argon would advise him against bottling up his emotions as it would lead to psychological scarring in the long term.

But there will be no long term, Doctor, he thought wryly.

After so many adventures, Artemis felt he should have known that things never turned out exactly as planned, but still he felt surprised at the finality of this step he was being forced to take—and also that he was willing to even consider taking it.

The boy who kidnapped Holly Short all those years ago would never have entertained the notion of sacrificing himself.

But he was no longer that boy. His parents were restored to him, and he had brothers.

And dear friends.

Something else Artemis had never anticipated.

Artemis watched his hand shake as he signed his last will and testament. How valid many of his bequests were in this new age, he was not sure. The banking system was almost definitely irretrievably damaged, as were the world’s stock exchanges. So there went the stocks, bonds, and shares.

All that time spent accumulating wealth, Artemis thought. What a waste.

Then:

Come, now. You are simply being maudlin. You love gold almost as much as Mulch Diggums loves chicken. And, given the chance, you would probably do the same again.

It was true. Artemis didn’t believe in deathbed conversions. They were far too opportunistic. A man must be what he is and take whatever judgments were forthcoming on the chin.

If there is a Saint Peter, I will not argue with him at the Pearly Gates, he promised his subconscious, though Artemis knew that, if his theory was correct, he could be stuck on this plane as a spirit, just as the Berserkers were.

I can be a supernatural bodyguard to Myles and Beckett.

This notion gave Artemis comfort and made him smile. He realized that he was not at all afraid, as if what he was about to attempt were a simulation in a role-playing game rather than an actual course of action.

This changed when Artemis sealed the will in an envelope and propped it against the desk lamp. He stared at the document, feeling the finality in the moment.

No going back now.

And then the fear dropped on him like a ton weight, pinning him to the office chair. He felt a block of lead solidify in his stomach, and suddenly his limbs seemed grafted on and out of his control.

Artemis took several deep breaths just to stop himself from throwing up, and gradually his calm returned.

I had always imagined that there would be time for good-byes. A moment for meaningful words with those I love.

There was no time. No time for anything but action. The fear had passed, and Artemis was still set on his course.

I can do it, he realized. I can think with my heart.

Artemis pushed his oxblood chair back on its casters, clapped his knees once, and stood to face his ordeal.

Holly burst into the office with murder in her eyes.

“I saw what came out of the wine cellar, Artemis.”

“Ah,” said Artemis. “The egg arrived.”

“Yes, it arrived. And I had a look inside.”

Artemis sighed. “Holly, I am sorry you saw. Mulch was supposed to hide it.” “Mulch is my friend too, and I told him you would try to pull something. He was digging himself a last-minute escape tunnel when the egg came in on autopilot. Mulch figures this is the something you are trying to pull.” “Holly, it’s not what you think.”

“I know what you’re planning. I figured it out.”

“It seems radical, I know,” said Artemis. “But it’s the only way. I have to do this.” “You have to do it?!” said Holly, incensed. “Artemis Fowl makes choices for everyone, as usual.” “Perhaps, but this time I am justified by circumstance.”

Holly actually pulled her gun. “No. Forget it, Artemis. It’s not happening.” “It has to happen. Perhaps in time, with resources, I could develop an alternate strategy.…” “Develop an alternate strategy? This is not a corporate takeover we’re talking about, Artemis. It’s your life. You intend to go out there and kill yourself. What about Butler?” Artemis sighed. It pained him to leave Butler unconscious, ignorant of the plan, especially as he knew that his faithful bodyguard would forever consider himself a failure.

Collateral damage. Just as I shall be.

“No. I can’t tell him, and neither will you…”

Holly interrupted with a wave of her gun. “No orders from you, Mr. Civilian. I am the officer in charge. And I am categorically vetoing this tactic.” Artemis sat in his chair, resting his face in his hands.

“Holly, we have thirty minutes before sunrise, then I die anyway. Butler dies, and Juliet. My family. Almost everyone I love will be gone. All you’re doing is making sure that Opal wins. You would not be saving anyone.” Holly stood beside him, and her touch was light at his shoulder. Artemis realized suddenly that elves had a signature odor.

Grass and citrus. Once, I would have filed that information.

“I know you don’t like it, Holly, my friend, but it’s a good plan.” Holly’s fingers traveled to Artemis’s neck, and he felt a slight tingle.

“I don’t like it, Arty,” she said. “But it is a good plan.”

The tranquilizer pad took a few seconds to work, and then Artemis found himself keeling over onto the Afghan rug, his nose parting the fibers of a tree-of-life motif. The drug numbed his mind, and he could not fathom exactly what was happening.

“I’m sorry, Artemis,” said Holly, kneeling beside him. “Opal is one of my people, so this is my sacrifice to make.” Artemis’s left eye rolled in its socket and his hand flapped weakly.

“Don’t hate me forever, Arty,” whispered Holly. “I couldn’t bear that.” She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I am the soldier, Artemis, and this is a job for a soldier.” “You make a good point, Holly,” said Artemis, clearly. “But this is my plan and, with all due respect, I am the only one who can be trusted to execute it.” Holly was confused. Just a moment ago, Artemis had been on the verge of unconsciousness, and now he was lecturing her in his usual supercilious way.

How?

Holly pulled back her hand and saw a small adhesive blister on her palm.

He drugged me! she realized. That sneaky Mud Boy drugged me.

Artemis stood and led Holly to the leather sofa, laying her down on the soft cushions.

“I thought Foaly might tattle, so I took an adrenaline shot to counteract your sedative.” Holly fought the fog clouding her mind.

“How could you…? How?”

“Logically you have no right to be angry. I simply followed your lead.” Tears filled Holly’s eyes, spilling down her cheeks as the truth called to her from far away, across a misty chasm.

He is really going through with it.

“No,” she managed.

“There is no other way.”

Holly felt the hollowness of dread sour her stomach.

“Please, Arty,” she mumbled. “Let me…” but she said no more as her lips had turned to slack rubber.

Artemis nearly broke—she could see it in his mismatched eyes, one human, one fairy—but then he stepped away from the couch and breathed deeply.

“No. It has to be me, Holly. If the second lock is opened, then I will die, but if my plan succeeds, then all fairy souls inside the magical corona will be drawn to the afterlife. Fairy souls. My soul is human, Holly, don’t you see? I don’t intend to die, and there is a chance that I may survive. A small chance, granted. But a chance nonetheless.” Artemis rubbed his eye with a knuckle. “As a plan, it is far from perfect, but there is no alternative.” Artemis made Holly comfortable with cushions. “I want you to know, my dear friend, that without you, I would not be the person I am today.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I was a broken boy, and you fixed me. Thank you.” Holly was aware that she was crying because her vision was blurred, but she could not feel the tears on her face.

“Opal expects you and me,” she heard Artemis say. “And that is exactly what she will get.” It’s a trap! Holly wanted to scream. You are walking into a trap.

But even if Artemis could hear her thoughts, Holly knew there was no turning him from his path. Just as she figured Artemis had left the room, he reappeared in her field of vision, a pensive look on his face.

“I know you can still hear me, Holly,” he said. “So I would ask one last favor of you. If Opal outwits me and I don’t make it out of that crater, I want you to tell Foaly to power up the chrysalis.” He leaned down and kissed Holly’s forehead. “And give him that from me.” Then the teen genius left, and Holly could not even turn her head to watch him go.

Opal knew that the ranks of her warriors were depleted, but it didn’t matter; she had reached the final level of the Berserker Gate’s second lock. Satisfaction flushed through her system in a buzz that set sparks jumping from the tips of her ears.

“I need peace,” she called to whatever Berserker was guarding her flank. “If anyone comes close, kill them.” She hurriedly amended this order to: “Except the human Fowl, and his pet LEP captain. Do you understand me?” Oro, in the body of Beckett, understood well enough, but he wished the fairy bonds gave him the wiggle room to suggest that their leader forget her personal vendetta. However, Bruin Fadda’s rules were explicit: Total obedience to the fairy who opens the gate.

We should hunt them down, he wanted to say. If we can capture these last few humans, then there is no need to open the second lock.

Opal turned and screamed into his face, spittle flying. “I said, do you understand me?” “I do,” said Oro. “Kill anyone, except Fowl and the female.”

Opal tapped his cute button nose. “Yes, exactly. Mommy is sorry for raising her voice. Mommy is stressed beyond belief. You would not believe the brain cells Mommy is expending on this thing.” Say Mommy one more time, thought Oro, and bonds or no bonds…

The most Oro could do against the grip of the fairy bond was scowl slightly and bear the stomach cramps, but the scowling had no effect, as Opal had already turned back to her task, a corona of black magic shimmering around her shoulders.

The final tumbler in Bruin Fadda’s enchanted lock was the warlock himself. Bruin had interred his own soul in the rock in much the same spiritual fashion as the Berserkers had been preserved in the ground.

As Opal ran her fingers over the rock’s surface, the druid’s face appeared in the stone, roughly etched but recognizable as elfin.

“Who wakes me from my slumbers?” he asked in a voice of rock and age. “Who calls me back from the brink of eternity?” Oh, please, thought Opal. Who calls me back from the brink of eternity? Is this the kind of troll dung I am going to have to put up with just to wipe out humanity?

“It is I, Opal Koboi,” she said, playing along. “From the house of Koboi. High Queen of the fairy families.” “Greetings, Opal Koboi,” said Bruin. “It is good to see the face of another fairy. So we are not yet extinct.” “Not yet, mighty warlock, but even as we speak, the humans approach the gate. Haven is threatened. We must open the second lock.” The rock ground like a millstone as Bruin frowned. “The second lock? That is indeed a momentous request. You would bear the guilt for this action?” Opal used the penitent face she had developed for parole hearings. “I would bear it, for the People.” “You are indeed brave, Queen Opal. The pixies were ever noble, in spite of their stature.” Opal was prepared to let the stature remark pass, because she liked the sound of Queen Opal. Also, time was a-wasting. In less than an hour the sun would rise and the full moon would pass, and the chances of maintaining this little army for another day, even with the humans chasing their own tails, were pretty slim.

“Thank you, mighty Bruin. Now, the time has come for your answer.” The warlock’s frown deepened. “I must consult. Are my Berserkers by your side?” This was unforeseen. “Yes. Captain Oro is at my shoulder. He is in total agreement with me.” “I would confer with him,” said the stone face.

This Bruin character was really pushing Opal’s buttons. A second ago it was all Queen Opal, and now he wanted to consult the help?

“Mighty Bruin, I don’t really think there is any need to consult with your soldiers. Time grows short.” “I would confer with him!” thundered Bruin, and the scored grooves of his face glowed with a power that shook Opal to her core.

Not a problem, she thought. Oro is bonded to me. My will is his will.

Oro stepped forward. “Bruin, comrade. I had thought you gone to the next life.” The stone face smiled, and he seemed to have sunlight instead of teeth. “Soon, Oro Shaydova. I liked your old face better than this young one, though I can see your soul beneath.” “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.” Two things happened while Opal was ranting at Holly. The first thing was that Opal had a series of thoughts: Holly’s hand seems very small.

Opal realized that she hadn’t closely examined the elf since she’d appeared at the crater’s rim. Either she’d been lying down, or Artemis had shielded her body with his own.

But her face. I saw the face. It was definitely her.

The second thing to happen was that the small hand in question, which still rested on the Berserker Gate, began to crab spasmodically toward the handprint, feeling its way with fingertips.

Opal pulled back Holly’s hood to take a better look and saw that the face crackled a little on close inspection.

A mask. A child’s projection mask. Like the one used by Pip…

“No!” she screamed. “No, I will not permit it!”

She reached under Holly’s chin and wrenched off the mask, and of course it was not Holly underneath.

Opal saw her own cloned face beneath the mask, and she felt instantly traumatized, as though blindsided by a massive blow.

“It is me!” she breathed, then giggled hysterically. “And only I can close the gate.” Two seconds of stunned inaction followed from Opal, which allowed Nopal’s fingers to arrange themselves perfectly in the handprint. The print turned green and radiated a warm light. The smell of summer emanated from the stone, and there was birdsong.

Artemis chuckled, showing his blood-rimmed teeth. “I would imagine that you’re vexed now.” Opal sent a vicious magical pulse directly into the clone’s torso, twisting her from Juliet’s grip and sending her rolling away from the gate, but all she accomplished with her brutality was to let the ethereal light flood through faster. The emerald rays spiraled upward in a tight coil, then fanned out to form a hemisphere around the magic circle. The Berserkers sighed and bathed their upturned faces in the meadow-green glow.

“It is finally finished, Opal,” said Artemis. “Your plan has failed. You are finished.” There were people in the light, smiling and beckoning. There were scenes from times gone by. Fairies farming in this very valley.

Opal did not give up so easily and recovered herself. “No. I still have power. Perhaps I lose these Berserker fools, but my magic will protect me. There are other fairies to be duped, and the next time you will not stop me.” Opal slapped Oro hard to distract him from the light. “Make certain that clone is dead,” she ordered. “The magic may not take the soulless creature. Finish her off if need be. Do it now!” Oro frowned. “But she is one of us.”

“What do I care?”

“But it is over, Majesty. We are leaving.”

“Do as I say, thrall. It can be your last act before you ascend. Then I am done with you.” “She is innocent. A helpless pixie.”

Opal was enraged by the argument. “Innocent? What do I care about that? I have killed a thousand innocent fairies, and I will kill ten times that if I deem it necessary. Do as I command.” Oro drew the dagger, which seemed as big as a sword in his hand. “No, Opal. Bruin released me from my bonds. You shall kill no more fairies.” And with a soldier’s efficiency he pierced Opal’s heart with a single thrust. The tiny pixie dropped, still speaking. She talked until her brain died, mouthing foul vitriol, still refusing to believe that it was over for her. She died staring into Artemis’s face, hating him.

Artemis wanted to hate right back, but all he could feel was sadness for the waste of life.

Something that may have been a spirit, or a dark twisted shadow, flickered behind Opal for a moment like a fleeing thief, then dissolved in the magical light.

All this time. All this strife and nobody wins. What a tragedy.

The light glowed brighter and shards detached themselves from the corona to become liquid, congealing around the Berserkers inside the circle. Some left their bodies easily, as though slipping from an old coat; others were yanked out limb by limb, jerking into the sky. Oro dropped his dagger, disgusted by what had been necessary, then vacated Beckett’s body in a flash of green fire.

At last, he may have said, though Artemis could not be sure. On either side of him, the clay warriors disintegrated as the Berserker spirits vacated them, and Artemis dropped to the ground, coming face to face with Nopal.

The clone lay with her eyes uncharacteristically bright and what might have been a smile on her face. She seemed to focus on Artemis for a moment, then the light died in her eyes and she was gone. She was peaceful at the end and, unlike the other fairies, no soul detached itself from her body.

You were never meant to be, realized Artemis, and then his thoughts turned to his own safety.

I need to escape the magic as quickly as possible.

The odds were in his favor, he knew, but that was no guarantee. He had survived against all odds so many times over the past few years that he knew that sometimes percentages counted for nothing.

It occurred to Artemis that, as a human, he should simply be able to hurl himself through the walls of this magical hemisphere and survive.

With all the genius in my head, I am to be saved by a simple high jump.

He scrambled to his feet and ran toward the edge of the gate tower. It was no more than ten feet. Difficult, but not impossible from a height.

What I wouldn’t give for a set of Foaly’s hummingbird wings now, he thought.

Through the green liquid Artemis saw Holly and Butler cresting the hill, running toward the crater.

Stay back, my friends, he thought. I am coming.

And he jumped for his life. Artemis was glad that Butler was there to witness his effort, as it was almost athletic. From this height, Artemis felt as though he were flying.

There was Holly racing down the slope, outrunning Butler for once. Artemis could see by the shape of her mouth that she was shouting his name.

His hands reached the skin of the magic bubble and passed through, and Artemis felt tremendous relief.

It worked. Everything will be different now. A new world with humans and fairies living together. I could be an ambassador.

Then the spell caught him as neatly as a bug in a jar, and Artemis slid down the inside of the magical corona as though it were made of glass.

Holly rushed down the hillside, reaching toward the magical light.

“Stay back!” Artemis shouted, and his voice was slightly out of synch with his lips. “The spell will kill you.” Holly did not slow, and Artemis could see that she intended to attempt a rescue.

She does not understand, he thought.

“Butler!” he called. “Stop her.”

The bodyguard reached out his massive arms and folded Holly in a bear hug. She used every escape maneuver in the manual, but there was no slipping such a grip.

“Butler, please. This is not right. It was supposed to be me.” “Wait,” said Butler. “Just wait, Holly. Artemis has a plan.” He squinted through the green dome. “What is your plan, Artemis?” All Artemis could do was smile and shrug.

Holly stopped struggling. “The magic shouldn’t affect a human, Artemis. Why hasn’t it released you yet?” Artemis felt the magic scanning his person, looking for something. It found that something in his eye socket.

“I have a fairy eye—one of yours, remember?” said Artemis, pointing to the brown iris. “I thought my human genes could overcome that, but this is perceptive magic. Smart power.” “I’ll get the defibrillator,” said Butler. “Perhaps there will be a spark left.” “No,” said Artemis. “It will be too late.”

Holly’s eyes were slits now, and a pallor spread across her skin like white paint. She felt sick and broken.

“You knew. Why, Artemis? Why did you do this?”

Artemis did not answer this question. Holly knew him well enough by now to unravel his motives later. He had seconds left, and there were more urgent things to be said.

“Butler, you did not fail me. I tricked you. After all, I am a tactical genius and you were unconscious. I want you to remember that, just in case…” “Just in case of what?” Butler shouted through the viscous light.

Again, Artemis did not answer the question. One way or another, Butler would find out.

“Do you remember what I said to you?” said Artemis, touching his own forehead.

“I remember,” said Holly. “But…”

There was no more time for questions. The green mist was sucked backward into the Berserker Gate as though drawn by a vacuum. For a moment Artemis was left standing, unharmed, and Butler dropped Holly to rush to his charge’s side. Then Artemis’s fairy eye glowed green, and by the time Butler caught the falling boy in his arms, Artemis Fowl’s body was already dead.

Holly dropped to her knees and saw Opal Koboi’s twisted body by the lock. The remnants of black magic had eaten through her skin in several places, exposing the ivory gleam of skull.

The sight affected her not one bit at that moment, though the pixie’s staring eyes would haunt Holly’s dreams for the rest of her life.