Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl - the time paradox

‘I got thrown in the pig pen for boots,’ muttered Descant. ‘Now, she’s scratching those ones on the stairs. Typical Koboi inconsistency. I think I’m getting an ulcer.’

Opal reached the upper landing and raced immediately through an open doorway.

‘How does she know that’s the right room?’ wondered Descant.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Mervall, resting his hands on his knees. Scaling human steps is not easy for pixies. Big heads, short legs, tiny lungs. ‘Maybe it’s the magical red glow coming from the doorway, or perhaps it’s the deafening howl of the temporal winds.’

Descant nodded. ‘You could be right, brother. And don’t think I don’t know sarcasm when I hear it.’

Opal traipsed from the room, her expression sour.

‘They have gone,’ she announced. ‘And the tunnel is about to close. Also my boots are ruined. So, boys, I am looking for someone to blame.’

The Brill brothers took one look at each other, then turned and ran as fast as their tiny legs would carry them.

Not fast enough.

HOLLYfelt herself relax as soon as they entered the stream.

Safe for the moment.

Jayjay was safe. Soon Artemis’s mother would be well, and when that was accomplished Holly decided that she would punch her erstwhile friend in his smug face.

I did what I had to do, Artemis had said. And I would do it again.

And she had kissed him. Kissed him!

Holly understood Artemis’s motives, but it wounded her deeply that he had felt the need to blackmail her.

I would have helped anyway. Definitely. Would you? Would you have disobeyed orders? Was Artemis right to do it his way?

These were questions that Holly knew would haunt her for years. If she had years left to her.

The journey was more arduous than before. The time stream was eroding her sense of self and there was a syrupy temptation to relax her concentration. Her world seemed less important wrapped in its sparkling waves. Being part of an eternal river would be a pleasant way to exist. And if the fairy races were wiped out by plague, what of it?

N o1’s presence pricked her consciousness, bolstering her resolve. The little demon’s power was evident in the stream, a shimmering thread of crimson pulling them on through the miasma. Things moved in the shadows. Darting, sharp things. Holly sensed teeth and hooked fingers.

Had Number One mentioned something about quantum zombies? That was probably a joke. Please let that be a joke.

Concentrate! Holly told herself. Or you will be absorbed.

She could feel other presences travelling with her. Jayjay was surprisingly calm, considering his surroundings. Somewhere in the periphery was Artemis, his sense of purpose keen as a blade.

Number One is going to get a shock, thought Holly, when he sees us pop through.

N o1 didn’t seem very shocked when the group tumbled from the stream, solidifying on the floor of Artemis’s study.

‘See any zombies?’ he asked with a spooky wiggling of his fingers.

‘Thank the gods,’ proclaimed Foaly from the television screens, then exhaled loudly through his broad nostrils. ‘That was the longest ten seconds of my life. Did you get the lemur?’

There was no need for an answer as Jayjay decided he liked the sound of Foaly’s voice and gave the nearest screen a lick. The little primate’s tongue crackled and he scampered back, shooting Foaly a glare.

‘One lemur,’ said the centaur. ‘No female?’

Holly shook the stars from her eyes, the fog from her head. The stream lingered in her head like the last moments of sleep.

‘No. No female. You’ll have to clone him.’

Foaly peered past Holly to the shuddering form on the ground behind her.

The centaur raised an eyebrow.

‘I see we have an-’

‘Let’s talk about that later,’ said Holly sharply, interrupting the centaur, ‘for now we have work to do.’

Foaly nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m guessing, from the look of things, that Artemis has a plan of some sort. Is that going to be a problem for us?’

‘Only if we try to stop it,’ said Holly.

Artemis took Jayjay into his arms, stroking the little lemur’s mohican, calming him with a rhythmic clicking of his tongue.

Holly felt that she too would be calmed, not by Artemis’s clicking but by the sight of her own face in the mirror. She was herself again; her one-piece fitted snugly. A grown woman. No more teenage confusion. She would feel even better once she retrieved her gear. There was nothing like a Neutrino on the hip for a self-confidence boost.

‘Time to see Mother,’ said Artemis grimly, selecting a suit from the wardrobe. ‘How much fluid should I administer?’

‘It’s powerful stuff,’ said Foaly, entering some calculations on his keyboard. ‘Two cc’s. No more. There is a syringe gun in Holly’s medi-kit bedside table. Be very careful with the brain drain. There’s an anaesthetic tab in there too. Give Jayjay a swab and he won’t feel a thing.’

‘Very well,’ Artemis said, pocketing the kit. ‘I shall go in alone. I do hope Mother recognizes me.’

‘So do I,’ agreed Holly. ‘Or she may object to lemur brain juice being injected into her by a total stranger.’

Artemis’s hand hovered over the crystal doorknob on his parents’ bedroom door. In its facets he could see a dozen reflections of his own face. Each one was drawn and worried.

Last chance. My last chance to save her.

I am forever trying to save people, he thought. I’m supposed to be a criminal. Where did it all go wrong?

No time for drifting. There was more at stake here than gold or notoriety. His mother was dying, and her salvation was perched on Artemis’s shoulder, searching his scalp for ticks.

Artemis closed his fingers over the knob. Not another moment to waste on thoughts, time now for action.

The room seemed colder than he remembered, but this was doubtless his imagination.

All minds play tricks. Even mine. The perceived cold is a projection of my mood, nothing more.

His parents’ bedroom was rectangular in shape, stretching along the west wing from front to rear. It was actually more of an apartment than a room, with a lounge area and office corner. The large four-poster bed was angled so that tinted light from a medieval stained-glass porthole would fall across the studded headboard in summer.

Artemis placed his feet carefully on the rug like a ballet dancer, avoiding the vine pattern in the weave.

Step on a vine, count to nine.

Bad luck was the last thing he needed.

Angeline Fowl was splayed on the bed, as though thrown there. Her head was angled back so sharply that the line from her neck to chin was almost straight, and her skin was pale enough to seem translucent.

She’s not breathing, thought Artemis, panic fluttering in his chest like a caged bird. I was wrong. I am too late.

Then his mother’s entire frame convulsed as she dragged down a painful breath.

Artemis’s resolve almost left him then. His legs were boneless rubber and his forehead burned.

This is my mother. How can I do what needs to be done?

But he would do it. There wasn’t anyone else who could.

Artemis reached his mother’s side and gently pushed strands of hair back from her face.

‘I am here, Mother. Everything will be fine. I found a cure.’

Somehow, Angeline Fowl heard her son’s words and her eyes flickered open. Even her retinas had lost their colour, fading to the ice blue of a winter lake.