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CHAPTER 16: Point of Impact

THIS time, the materialization was a painful process. Being separated from a thousand consciousnesses left Artemis with a deep sense of loss. For the first time in his life, he had completely belonged. He knew everyone, and they knew him. There would always be a bond between them all, though the specifics of others’ memories were already fading.

Artemis felt like an adhesive plaster that had been ripped off an enormous limb, and flung on the ground. He lay on the earth shivering. Sharing consciousness had felt so right, that now it was as if he had just lost the use of several senses, including balance.

He opened his eyes, squinting through the sunlight. Sunlight! They were on Earth! Though where and when remained to be seen.

Artemis rolled on to his stomach, then struggled slowly

to all fours. The others lay in the crater, disorientated like him, but alive, judging by the moans and groans. He himself felt fine, except for a darting pain in his left eye. His vision was sharp, but slightly yellowed, as though he was wearing pale sunglasses. Holly the soldier was already on her feet, coughing the ash from her lungs. When her airways were clear, she helped Artemis to his feet. She winked at Artemis. ‘Blue sky. We did it.’ Artemis nodded. ‘Perhaps.’The wink drew his attention to her left eye. It seemed as though they hadn’t made it through the tunnel unaltered.

‘Look at me, Holly. Do you notice anything different?’ ‘This isn’t anything to do with puberty, is it?’ said Holly, smiling; then she noticed . . .

‘Your eyes. They’ve changed. One blue and one hazel.’ Artemis smiled. ‘You too. We swapped in transit. Just the eye as far as I can make out.’

Holly thought about this for a moment, then ran her hands over her head and body.

‘Everything’s in place, thank goodness. Except now I have a human eye.’

‘It could have been a lot worse,’ said Artemis. ‘You could have been travelling with Mulch.’

Holly winced. ‘Now that you mention it.’ A solitary blue dot of magic sparkled inside Holly’s new eyeball, reducing it in size slightly.

‘That’s better,’ she sighed. ‘I had a blinder of a headache.

Your new eye must be too small; why don’t you use your ill-gotten magic to fix it?’

Artemis tried, closed his eyes and concentrated. But nothing happened.

‘It seems as though the transplant did not take. I must have used all I had in the tunnel.’

Holly punched his shoulder lightly. ‘Maybe you passed it on to me. I feel great — that time tunnel was like a magical mud bath. Maybe it’s just as well that you lost your magic. The last thing the People need is a magical criminal mastermind running around above ground.’

‘A pity,’ sighed Artemis. ‘The possibilities were endless.’

‘Here,’ said Holly, taking his head in her hands. ‘Let me fix you up.’

Her fingertip glowed blue and Artemis felt his new eye expand slightly in his socket. A single tear ran down his cheek and the headache disappeared.

‘A pity I was unable to do it myself. Being magical for even a short while was simply . . .’

‘Magical?’

Artemis smiled. ‘Exactly. Thank you, Holly.’

Holly smiled back. ‘It’s the least I can do for someone who brought me back to life.’

Qwan and No.l were on their feet. The old warlock was trying not to look too smug, and No.l was wiggling his tail experimentally.

‘You never know what that tunnel will do to you,’ he explained. ‘I lost half a finger last time. It was my favourite finger too.’

‘Rarely in my tunnels,’ said Qwan. ‘My tunnels are works of beauty. If the other warlocks were alive, they would give me a medal. Where is Qweffor, by the way?’

Qweffor was buried up to his waist in an ash mound. Head down. Qwan and No.l hauled him out by the boots. He lay spluttering and snorting on the ground.

‘Do you need a handkerchief?’ asked No.l. ‘All that ash and mucus coming out of your nose is horrible.’

Qweffor wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘Shut up, Runt!’

No.l took a step backwards, which would prove not to be quite enough.

‘Runt?’ he squeaked. ‘You’re not Qweffor, you’re N’zall!’

‘Abbot!’ roared the demon, reaching up and grasping No.l by the throat. ‘The name is Abbot.’

Holly had her gun out and powered up before Abbot finished his sentence.

‘Let him go, Abbot!’ she shouted. ‘You can’t escape. There’s nowhere to escape to. Your world is gone.’

The ex-pride leader was actually crying. ‘I know it’s gone. This runt took it from me! Now I will take his life from him.’

Holly sent a warning shot over Abbot’s head. ‘The next one is between your eyes, demon.’

Abbot hefted No.l, using him as a shield. ‘Shoot now, elf. Put us both out of our misery.’

A change had come over No.l. Initially he had been snivelling — standard No.l behaviour — but now the tears were drying on his cheeks, and his eyes were hard.

Every time things are going right for me, Abbot ruins it, he thought. I am so fed up of this demon. I wish he was gone.

This was a big breakthrough for No.l. Usually when he found himself in a bad situation, No.l wished himself away. This time he was wishing someone else would disappear. Enough was finally enough, so No.l broke through a lifetime of conditioning and talked back to Abbot.

‘I want to speak to Qweffor,’ he said, in a trembling voice.

‘Qweffor’s gone!’ shouted Abbot, spraying spittle on No.l’s neck. ‘All that is left is his magic. My magic!’

‘I want to speak to Qweffor,’ repeated his hostage, with a little more volume.

For Abbot, this latest insubordination was the wind that burst the dwarf’s bum-flap. Even though he was bereft of land and lackeys, Abbot decided that he would not bear impudence from an imp. He tossed No.l upwards, spinning him in the air and gripping his shoulders as the imp descended. No.l came down face to face with Abbot, the demon’s horns brushing his ears. Abbot’s eyes were wide and crazy, and his teeth were slick with saliva.

‘You’re not long for life, little Runt.’

If Abbot had been paying closer attention to his captive, he might have noticed that N°l’s eyes were filmed with blue, and his markings glowed and shimmered. But, as usual, Abbot was only interested in his own plight.

No.l wriggled his hands upwards, grabbing Abbot by the horns.

‘How dare you!’ said Abbot incredulously. Touching a demon’s horns was tantamount to a challenge.

No.l stared into his captor’s eyes. ‘I said, I want to talk to Qweffor.’

Abbot heard him that time, because the voice wasn’t No.l’s. It was a voice of pure magic, layered with undeniable power.

Abbot blinked. ‘I’ll … eh … see if he’s in.’

It was too late for compliance: No.l wasn’t about to rein in his power now. He sent a magical probe into Abbot’s brain via the horns. The horns glowed bright blue and then began shedding large brittle flakes.

‘Careful with the horns,’ said Abbot blearily, then his eyes rolled back in his head. ‘The ladies love the horns.’

No.l rooted round in Abbot’s head for a while until he found Qweffor sleeping in a dark corner, in a place scientists would call the limbic system.

The problem, realized No.l, is that there is only room in every head for one consciousness. Abbot needs to go somewhere else.

And so, with this instinctive knowledge and absolutely no expertise, No.l fed Qweffor’s consciousness until it expanded, occupying the entire brain. It was not a perfect fit, and poor Qweffor would suffer from twitches and sudden loss of bowel control at public functions, a syndrome which would become known as Abbot’s Revenge. But at least he was in control of a body, most of the time.

After several years and three hearings, fairy warlocks would manage to rehouse Abbot’s consciousness in a lower life form. A guinea pig, to be precise. The guinea pig’s own consciousness was soon subjugated by Abbot’s. Warlock interns would often amuse themselves by throwing tiny swords into the pig’s pen, and crack up watching the little piggy trying to pick them up.

Qweffor blinked Abbot’s eyes.

‘Thanks, Number One,’ he said, placing the smaller warlock on the ground. ‘He’s always been too strong for me, but now he’s gone. I’m free . . .’ Qweffor studied his new arms. ‘And I have muscles.’

Holly lowered her gun, resting a hand on her thigh.

‘That must be it. Surely our troubles are over?’

Artemis felt the earth tilt a fraction below them. He dropped to one knee, laying the flat of his hands on the ground.

‘I hate to say this, Holly, but I think we’re sinking.’

The sinking thing turned out not to be as serious as it sounded. Of course it was serious — after all, an island was sinking. But there was help at hand.

Holly realized this when her barely functional wrist computer was suddenly flooded with crackling LEP chatter.

The sky is a projection, she thought. They’re waiting for us.

Suddenly, where there had been nothing, hundreds of fairy vehicles appeared in the air above the island. Emergency services air ambulances flew in decreasing circles, searching for landing spots. Huge demolition platforms were guided down by tugpods, and an LEP shuttle dropped straight into the volcano.

The pod had the slick lines of a teardrop and a non-reflective surface that made it difficult to see, even with the shield powered down.

‘They were expecting us,’ said Artemis, unsurprised. ‘I thought as much.’

No.l sneezed. ‘Thank goodness. I am so fed up of this volcano. It’s going to take a month to get this crater stink out of my plates.’

‘No, no,’ said Qwan, linking his new apprentice. ‘You can vent your pores magically. It’s a very handy talent.’

Holly waved her arms to attract the shuttle, though there was no need. The carrier’s scanners would have already scanned, categorized and checked the LEP database for a match for each one of them.

The shuttle spun and reversed down to them tail first. Its jets blasted moving furrows in the ash.

‘Wow,’ said Qwan. ‘Those ships are fabulous. The People have been busy.’ 364 ‘A lot has happened in ten thousand years,’ said Holly, holding up her palms to show the pilot she was not holding a weapon. Again, probably not necessary, but with Ark Sool in command of the LEP, nothing could be taken for granted.

Four grappler hooks shot from the corners of the shuttle, smashing through the crater crust into the rock below. Once they had a solid grip, they reeled the craft in for a landing. The rear door slid across and Foaly came trotting down the ramp, dressed in a custom-tailored, four-legged LEP jumpsuit. He skidded down the incline to Holly, digging his back hooves through the crust.

‘Holly!’ he said, hugging her tightly. ‘You made it back. I knew you would.’

Holly hugged the centaur back.

‘And I knew you’d be here waiting.’

Foaly reached an arm round Artemis’s shoulders. ‘Well, when Artemis Fowl says he’ll be back, you know it’s going to take a lot more than space and time to stop him.’ Foaly shook hands with No.l and Qwan. ‘I see you brought quite a few guests.’

Holly smiled, her teeth white against a face of streaked ash.

‘Hundreds.’

‘Anyone we need to worry about?’

‘No. A few have been mesmerized, but a couple of sessions in therapy should straighten that.’

‘OK, I’ll pass it on,’ said the centaur. ‘Now we have to cut the reunion short and board immediately. We have thirty minutes to sink this island and pack up this entire facility.’

Facility? thought Artemis. They’ve had time to set up a facility. Just how long have we been away?

They climbed the ramp, and strapped themselves into gel-padded bucket seats in the sparsely furnished rear. There were no comforts here, just seats and gun racks. A medic fairy scanned them all in turn, then shot a cocktail of inoculations and germ killers into their arms, just in case Hybras had brewed up any mutant diseases over the past ten thousand years. A true professional, the medic did not bat an eye examining Qwan and No.l, even though he’d never met their like before.

Foaly sat beside Holly.

‘I can’t tell you how good it feels to see you, Holly. I requested this assignment. I’m on leave from Section Eight. This entire facility is my design. Biggest single project I ever worked on, designed for a thirty-minute walkaway. I knew you’d make it back.’

Holly thought about that statement for a moment. She was an assignment?

The shuttle reeled in the grippers and peeled away from the crater wall. In seconds they breached the mouth like a bullet from a gun. The vibration was enough to rattle teeth for the first few seconds, then the stabilization fins snicked out the side and calmed the ride down. 366 ‘I am glad to see the end of that volcano,’ said No.l, trying to appear casual, even though he was flying around in a metal teardrop. After all this was not his first flight.

Foaly laid the heel of his hand on the porthole rim, peering downwards.

‘You really are seeing the last of it. As soon as we have everybody off the island, those demolition rigs are going to turn the laser cutters on it. We’re going to slice it up and then remote-deflate the buoys underneath. Let ‘er down slow. That way, no tidal waves. The water displacement alone was enough to send a few big rollers in towards Dublin, but we boiled ‘em up from space. Once the island is down, we can pack up the shield and go home.’

‘Oh,’ said No.l, who hadn’t understood much of what had been said.

Artemis looked out of the porthole at his elbow. On the island below, demons were being guided into shuttles by rescue teams. Once the crafts took off, they switched on their shields and shimmered from view.

‘You gave us quite a scare, Holly,’ laughed Foaly. ‘Coming back twenty miles off target like that. We had to light a fire under our pilots to get over here and get the projection up. Luckily it’s early in the morning, and the tide is low. We’ve got about half an hour before the first fishing boats get out here.’

‘I see,’ said Holly slowly. ‘Big budget stuff. Sool must have been spitting fire.’

Foaly snorted. ‘Sool? He can spit what he wants out of whatever end he wants. He got drummed out of the force a couple of years ago. Do you realize that traitor wanted to let the entire eighth family die off? The moron actually said as much in a memo.’

Holly gripped the arms of her seat. ‘A couple of years ago? How long have we been gone?’

Foaly snapped his fingers. ‘Oh, uh, yeah. I wasn’t supposed to just blurt it out. Sorry. I mean it’s not serious, like a thousand years or anything.’

‘How long, Foaly?’ demanded Holly.

The centaur thought about it for a moment. ‘OK. You’ve been gone for nearly three years.’

Qwan reached over and slapped Artemis’s shoulder. ‘Three years! Nice going, Mud Boy. You must have one hell of a brain to get us that close. I wasn’t expecting to see this side of the century.’

Artemis was stunned. Three years! His parents hadn’t seen him for three years. What torture had he put them through? How could he ever make up for it?

Foaly was trying to fill the shocked silence with information. ‘Mulch has kept the PI firm ticking over. Well, more than that, actually - it’s thriving. He signed up a new partner.You’ll never guess who. Doodah Day. Another criminal turned do-gooder. Wait till he hears you’re back. He calls me every day. I have a pain in my tail trying to explain quantum physics to that dwarf.’

Holly reached across and took Artemis’s hand.

‘There’s only one way to look at this, Artemis. Think of all the lives you’ve saved. That’s worth a few years, surely.’

Artemis could only stare straight ahead. Dying in the transfer would have been a grade one disaster; this was surely a grade two. What could he say? How could he explain himself?

‘I need to get home,’ he said, sounding for once like an actual fourteen-year-old. ‘Foaly, would you tell the pilot where I live.’

The centaur chuckled. ‘Like every law enforcement agent under the world doesn’t know where Artemis Fowl lives. Anyway, no need to go that far. Someone is wailing for you on shore. He’s been there for quite a while.’

Artemis placed his forehead against the porthole. He felt so tired suddenly, as though he had actually been awake for three years. How could he even begin to explain events to his parents? He knew how they must be feeling — exactly how he felt when his father had gone missing. Perhaps he had already been declared dead, as his father had been? And even though his return would bring happiness, that pain would always be there underneath the surface.

Foaly was talking to the demons.

‘Who’s this little guy?’ he asked, tickling No.l under the chin.

‘That little guy is Number One,’ said Qwan. ‘He’s the most powerful warlock on the planet. He could fry your brain by accident, say if you were tickling him under the chin, and he got irritated.’

The centaur withdrew his finger sharpish. ‘I see. I like him. We’re going to get along just fine. Why are you called Number One? Is that a nickname?’

No.l felt the magic inside him, comfortable like heated veins. ‘It was my imp name. But now, I think I’ll keep it.’

Qwan was surprised. ‘What? You don’t want the QW name? That’s traditional. We haven’t had a Qwandri in a while. What about Qwerty?’

No.l shook his head. I am Number One. The name used to mark me out as different; now it makes me unique. I have no idea where we are, or where we’re going, but I already feel more at home than I ever have.’

Foaly rolled his eyes. ‘Excuse me while I get a tissue. Honestly, I thought you demons were warlike and stoic. This little guy sounds like one of those cheap romance novels.’

‘The little guy who could fry your brain,’ Qwan reminded him.

‘One of those cheap romance novels that I happen to adore,’ said Foaly, backing away slowly.

No.l smiled contentedly. He was alive, and he had helped to save the island. Finally he knew his place in the universe. Now that Abbot was taken care of, he could live his life the way he wanted to. And the first thing he would do, when things had settled down, would be to track down the demoness with the red markings very much like his own, and see if maybe she would share a meal with him. A cooked meal. It could be that they had a lot to talk about.

The shuttle slipped through the shield into the morning sky. The jagged rocks of the Irish coast jutted out from waves, sun-speckled by the early light. It was going to be a fine day. There were trace clouds to the north, but nothing that could keep people inside for long.

There was a group of houses clustered around an inlet, and in the horseshoe harbour, fishermen were already on the sand, setting up their nets.

‘This is your stop, Artemis,’ said Foaly. ‘We’ll drop you behind the quay wall. I’ll give you a call in a few days, for debriefing.’ The centaur reached out a hand, laying it on Artemis’s shoulder. ‘The People thank you for your efforts, but you know that everything you have learned is confidential. Not even your parents, Artemis. You’ll have to think of something besides the truth to tell them.’

‘Of course,’ said Artemis.

‘Good. I didn’t have to say it, I know. Anyway, the man you want is in the little cottage with the window boxes. Say hello from me.’

Artemis nodded numbly. ‘I will.’

The pilot swung in low, tucking the shuttle out of sight behind a deserted, ramshackle stone building. When he was certain that there was nobody in the sight lines, the pilot hit a green light over the rear door.

Holly helped Artemis out of his chair.

‘We never get to hang out,’ she said.

Artemis half chuckled. ‘I know. There’s always a crisis.’

‘If it’s not goblin gangs, it’s time-travelling demons.’ Holly kissed him on the cheek. ‘That was probably dangerous. You being a pubescent volcano.’

‘I’ve got it under control, just about.’

Holly pointed to her new blue eye. ‘We’ll always be a part of each other now.’

Artemis tapped the cheek below his fairy hazel eye. ‘I’ll keep an eye out for you.’

‘Was that a joke? My goodness, you are changing.’

Artemis was a little dazed. ‘Well, apparently I’m almost eighteen.’

‘God help us all. Artemis Fowl, eligible to vote.’

Artemis chuckled. ‘I’ve been voting for years.’ He tapped his ring-phone. ‘Call you later.’

‘I have a feeling we’ll have a lot to talk about.’

They hugged briefly, but tightly, then Artemis walked down the ramp. He took three steps and looked back, but there was nothing there but sea and sky.

Artemis Fowl made for strange early morning viewing in the village of Duncade. A lone teenager in a tattered suit, leaving a trail of ash behind him as he climbed through a stone stile, and half stumbled along the quay front.

There was a small group ahead of him, leaning on a concrete bollard. One shaggily bearded fisherman was telling a wild story about a six-metre wave he had seen during the night which had simply evaporated before it reached the shore. He told the story well, complete with big arm gestures and whooshing noises. The other men nodded to his face, while behind his back winking and making drinky drinky motions with their hands.

Artemis ignored them, walking further down the quay front to the cottage with window boxes.

Window boxes? Who would have thought.

There was a keypad on the door — it looked out of place in such a rustic setting, but Artemis would have expected no less. He keyed in his own birthday, zero one zero nine, deactivating the lock and interior alarm.

It was dark inside, curtains drawn, lights off. Artemis stepped inside to a spartan living area, with functional kitchen, one chair and a sturdy wooden table. There was no television, but rudimentary shelves had been erected to store hundreds of books on various subjects. As Artemis’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out some of the titles. Gormenghast, The Art of War and Gone With the Wind being among them.

‘You are full of surprises, old friend,’ murmured Artemis, reaching out to touch the spine of Moby Dick.

As he traced the embossed title, a small red dot of light appeared on his fingertip.

‘You know what that is?’ said a low rumbling voice behind him. If thunder could speak, then this would be its voice.

Artemis nodded. This was no time for outbursts or sudden moves.

‘Good. Then you know what happens if you do anything to upset me.’

Another nod.

‘Excellent, you’re doing very well. Now lace your fingers behind your head, and turn round.’

Artemis did as he was told, and found himself facing a huge man with a full beard and long hair drawn back in a ponytail. Both were flecked with grey. The man’s face was familiar, but different. There were more lines round the eyes, and a deep frown slash between them.

‘Butler?’ said Artemis. ‘Are you behind all that hair?’

Butler stepped back as though struck. His eyes widened and he swallowed rapidly, suddenly parched.

‘Artemis? Is it … You’re the wrong age! I always thought -?’

‘The time tunnel, old friend,’ explained Artemis. ‘I saw you only yesterday.’

Butler was not yet convinced. He moved quickly to the curtains, and in his haste pulled them, rail and all, away from the wall. The red light of sunrise flooded the small room. Butler turned to his young guest and took the boy’s face in his hands. With massive thumbs, he wiped the grime from round Artemis’s eyes.

What he saw in those eyes almost buckled his knees.

‘Artemis, it is you. I had begun to think . . . No, no. I knew you would come back.’ And then again with more belief. ‘I knew it. I always knew it.’

The bodyguard wrapped Artemis in arms strong enough to break a bear’s back. Artemis could have sworn he heard sobs, but when Butler released him, he was his usual stoic self.

‘Sorry about the beard, and the hair, Artemis. I was blending in with the natives. How was your … eh … trip?’

Artemis felt the sting of tears in his own eyes. ‘Um, eventful. If it hadn’t been for Holly, we never would have made it.’

Butler studied Artemis’s face. ‘Something is different. My God, your eyes!’

‘Oh, yes. I have one of Holly’s now. It’s complicated.’

Butler nodded. ‘We can swap stories later. There are calls to be made.’

‘Calls?’ said Artemis. ‘More than one?’

Butler plucked a cordless phone from its cradle. ‘There are your parents of course, but I should call Minerva too.’

Artemis was surprised. Pleasantly so. ‘Minerva?’

‘Yes. She’s been over here several times. Almost every school holiday, in fact. We’ve become good friends. She’s the one who started me reading fiction.’

‘I see.’

Butler pointed the phone aerial at Artemis. ‘It’s Artemis this, and Artemis that. She has really built you up to be something special. You’re going to have to work hard not to disappoint her.’

Artemis swallowed. He had been hoping for a break, not more challenges.

‘Of course she’s grown up a bit, even if you haven’t,’ continued Butler. ‘And quite the beauty. Sharp as a samurai sword too. There’s a young lady who could give you a run for your money at chess.’

Then again, thought Artemis. Nothing like a challenge to keep the brain active. But that could come later.

‘My parents?’

‘You just missed them. They were here yesterday, for the weekend. They stay in the local guest house whenever they can.’ Butler laid a hand on Artemis’s shoulder. ‘These last few years. It’s been terrible for them. I told them everything, Artemis. I had to.’

‘Do they believe you?’

Butler shrugged. ‘Some days they do. Mostly my fairy stories just add to their pain. They think I’ve been driven mad with guilt. And even though you’re back, things will never be the same again. It would take a miracle to erase my stories, and their suffering.’

Artemis nodded slowly. A miracle. He lifted his hand. On the palm there was a slight graze from his climb over the quayside stile. Artemis concentrated and five blue sparks 376 of magic leaped from his fingertips and zeroed in on the graze, wiping it out like a cloth wiping dirt. He had more magic left than he had pretended.

‘Maybe we can arrange a miracle.’

Butler was beyond further amazement. ‘That’s a new trick,’ he said laconically.

‘I picked up a little more than an eye in the time tunnel.’

‘I see,’ said Butler. ‘Just don’t do it around the twins.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Artemis. ‘I won’t.’ Then his brain computed what Butler had actually said.

‘What twins?’

Butler punched in the Fowl Manor phone number, smiling. ‘Maybe time stood still for you, big brother, but it didn’t for the rest of us.’

Artemis stumbled to the room’s only chair and sank into it.

Big brother? he thought, and then . . .

Twins!