The Last Guardian (Disney)

by Eoin Colfer

  “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.

&nb
sp; 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.”