Artemis Fowl - Colfer Eoin - Страница 12

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Holly paused for a minute to admire the view. Ireland certainly was picturesque. Even the Mud People hadn't been able to destroy that. Not yet anyway…Give them another century or two. The river was folding gently before her like a silver snake, hissing as the water tumbled across a stony bed. The oak tree crackled overhead, its branches rasping together in the bracing breeze.

Now, to work. She could do the tourist thing all night once her business was complete. A seed. She needed a seed. Holly bent to the ground, brushing the dried leaves and twigs from the clay's surface.

Her fingers closed around a smooth acorn.

'That wasn't hard now, was it?' she thought.

All that remained for her to do was plant it somewhere else and her powers would come rushing back.

Butler checked the porta-radar, muting the volume in case the equipment betrayed their position. The red arm swept the screen with agonizing lethargy, and then…Flash! An upright figure by the tree. Too small for an adult, the wrong proportions for a child. He gave Artemis the thumbs-up. Possible match.

Artemis nodded, strapping the mirrored sunglasses across his brow. Butler followed his lead, popping the cap on his weapon's starlight scope. This was no ordinary dart rifle. It had been specially tooled for a Kenyan ivory hunter and had the range and rapid-fire capacity of a Kalashnikov. Butler had picked it up for a song from a government official after the ivory poacher's execution.

They crept into the night with practised silence. The diminutive figure before them unhooked a contraption from around its shoulders and lifted a full-face helmet from a definitely non-human head. Butler wrapped the rifle strap twice around his wrist, pulling the stock into his shoulder. He activated the scope and a red dot appeared in the centre of the figure's back. Artemis nodded and his manservant squeezed the trigger.

In spite of a million to one odds, it was at that precise moment that the figure bent low to the earth.

Something whizzed over Holly's head, something that glinted in the starlight. Holly had enough on-the-job experience to realize that she was under fire, and immediately curled her elfin frame into a ball, minimizing the target.

She drew her pistol, rolling towards the shelter of the tree trunk.

Her brain scrambled for possibilities. Who could be shooting at her and why?

Something was waiting beside the tree. Something roughly the size of a mountain, but considerably more mobile.

'Nice pea-shooter,' grinned the figure, smothering Holly's gun hand in a turnip-sized fist.

Holly managed to extricate her fingers a nanosecond before they snapped like brittle spaghetti.

'I don't suppose you would consider peaceful surrender?' said a cold voice behind her.

Holly turned, elbows raised for combat.

'No,' sighed the boy melodramatically. 'I suppose not.'

Holly put on her best brave face.

'Stay back, human. You don't know what you're dealing with.'

The boy laughed.

'I believe, fairy, that you are the one unfamiliar with the facts.'

Fairy? He knew she was a fairy.

'I have magic, mud-worm. Enough to turn you and your gorilla into pig droppings.'

The boy took a step closer.

'Brave words, miss. But lies nonetheless. If, as you say, you had magic, you would have no doubt used it by now. No, I suspect that you have gone too long without the Ritual and you are here to replenish your powers.'

Holly was dumbfounded. There was a human before her, casually spouting sacred secrets. This was disastrous. Catastrophic. It could mean the end of generations of peace. If the humans were aware of a fairy subculture, it was only a matter of time before the two species went to war. She must do something, and there was only one weapon left in her arsenal.

The mesmer is the lowest form of magic and requires only a trickle of power. There are even certain humans with a bent for the talent. It is within the ability of even the most drained fairy to put a complete mind kibosh on any human alive.

Holly summoned the final dribble of magic from the base of her skull.

'Human,' she intoned, her voice suddenly resonating with bass tones, 'your will is mine.'

Artemis smiled, safe behind his mirrored lenses.

'I doubt it,' he said, and nodded curtly.

Holly felt the dart puncture the suit's toughened material, depositing its load of curare and succinylcholine chloride-based tranquillizer into her shoulder. The world instantly dissolved into a series of technicoloured bubbles and, try as she might, Holly couldn't seem to hold on to more than one thought. And that thought was: how did they know? It spiralled around her head as she sank into unconsciousness. How did they know? How did they know? How did they…

Artemis saw the pain in the creature's eyes as the hollow hypodermic plunged into her body. And for a moment he experienced misgivings. A female. He hadn't expected that. A female, like Juliet, or Mother. Then the moment passed and he was himself again.

'Good shooting,' he said, bending to study their prisoner.

Definitely a girl. Pretty too. In a pointy sort of way.

'Sir?'

'Hmm?'

Butler was pointing to the creature's helmet. It was half-buried in a drift of leaves where the fairy had dropped it. A buzzing noise was coming from the crown.

Artemis picked up the contraption by the straps, searching for the source.

'Ah, here we are.'

He plucked the viewcam from its slot, careful to point the lens away from him.

'Fairy technology. Most impressive,' he muttered, popping the battery from its groove.

The camera whined and died.

'Nuclear power source, if I'm not mistaken. We must be careful not to underestimate our opponents.'

Butler nodded, sliding their captive into an oversized duffel bag.

Something else to be lugged across two fields, a bog and a stile.

Commander Root was sucking on a particularly noxious fungus cigar. Several of the Retrieval Squad had nearly passed out in the shuttle. Even the pong from the manacled troll seemed mild in comparison. Of course, no one said anything, their boss being touchier than a septic bum boil.

Foaly, on the other hand, delighted in antagonizing his superior.

'None of your rancid stogies in here, Commander!' he brayed, the moment Root made it back to Ops. 'The computers don't like smoke!'

Root scowled, certain that Foaly was making this up.

Nevertheless, the commander was not prepared to risk a computer crash in the middle of an alert and so doused his cigar in the coffee cup of a passing gremlin.

'Now, Foaly, what's this so-called alert? And it better be good this time!'

The centaur had a tendency to go completely hyper over trivialities. He'd once gone to Defcon Two because his human satellite stations were out.

'It's good all right,' Foaly assured him. 'Or should I say bad? Very bad.'

Root felt the ulcer in his gut begin to bubble like a volcano.

'How bad?'

Foaly punched up Ireland on the Eurosat.

'We lost contact with Captain Short.'

'Why am I not surprised?' groaned Root, burying his face in his hands.

'We had her all the way over the Alps.'

'The Alps? She took a land route?'

Foaly nodded.

'Against regulations, I know. But everyone does it.'

The commander agreed grudgingly. Who could resist a view like that? As a rookie, he'd been placed on report himself for that exact offence.

'OK. Move on. When did we lose her?'

Foaly opened a VT box on the screen.

'This is the feed from Holly's helmet unit. Here we are over Disneyland Paris…'

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