The Artemis Fowl Files (Artemis Fowl 0.50)

Root patted the guns slung over his shoulder. “You mean these rifles. I got your text. Well done.” He wrapped his fingers round the chain, yanking it from the earth. “The parameters of your assignment have changed.”

You don’t say, thought Holly.

Root used an omnitool to pop open the shackle. “This is no longer an exercise. We are now in a combat situation, with a hostile and presumably armed opponent.”

Holly rubbed her ankle where the shackle had chafed. “Your brother, Turnball, has Captain Kelp in the human dwelling. He has threatened to feed him a Tunnel Blue spider if anything goes wrong with the plan.”

Root sighed, leaning against the rock. “We can’t go inside the dwelling. If we do, not only will we get disorientated, but the arrest won’t be legal. Turnball is clever. Even if we did outsmart his goons, we couldn’t take the house.”

“We could use laser sights and knock out the target,” suggested Holly. “Then Captain Kelp could walk out himself.”

If the target had been anyone else besides his own brother, Root would have smiled. “Yes, Corporal Short. We could do that.”

Root and Holly double-timed it to a ridge overlooking the human dwelling. The cottage was in a hollow, surrounded by silver birch trees.

The commander scratched his chin. “We have to get closer. I need to get a clean shot through one of the windows. One chance may be all we get.”

“Should I take one rifle, sir?” asked Holly.

“No. You’re not licensed for weapons. Captain Kelp’s life is at stake here, so I need steady fingers on the trigger. And even if you did bag Turnball, it would blow our entire case.”

“So what can I do?”

Root checked the load in both weapons. “Stay here. If Turnball gets me, then go back to the shuttle and activate the distress signal. If help doesn’t arrive and you see Turnball coming, then set the self-destruct.”

“But I can fly the shuttle,” protested Holly. “I have hundreds of hours on the simulators.”

“And no pilot’s licence,” added the commander. “If you fly that thing, you may as well kiss your career good-bye. Set the self-destruct, then wait for the Retrieval squad.” He handed Holly the starter chip, which doubled as a locator. “That’s a direct order, Short, so take that insolent look off your face, it’s making me nervous. And when I get nervous I tend to fire people. Get the message?”

“Yessir. Message understood, sir.”

“Good.”

Holly squatted behind the ridge while her commander threaded his way through the trees toward the house itself. Halfway down the hill, he buzzed up his shield, becoming all but invisible to the naked eye. When a fairy shielded, he vibrated so quickly that the eyes could not capture an image of him. Of course, Root would have to turn off his shield to take the shot at his brother, but that need not be until the last moment.

Root could taste metal filings in the air, doubtless left over from the radio jammer that Turnball had detonated earlier. He stepped carefully over the uneven terrain until the front windows of the house were clearly visible. The curtains were open, but there was no sign of Turnball or Captain Kelp. Round the back then.

Hugging the wall, the commander crept along the cracked flagstone path to the rear of the cottage. Trees lined both sides of a narrow unkempt yard. And there, perched on a stool on the flagstone patio, was his brother, Turnball, face lifted to the morning sun without a care in the world.

Root’s breath caught and his step faltered. His only brother. Flesh of his flesh. For a moment, the commander imagined what it would be like to embrace his brother and wash away the past, but the moment quickly passed. It was too late for reconciliation. Fairies had almost died, and still could.

Root raised his weapon, training the barrel on his brother. It was a ridiculously easy shot for even a mediocre marksman. He could not believe that his brother had been stupid enough to expose himself in this way. As he crept closer, Julius was saddened by how old Turnball looked. There was barely a century between them, and yet his older brother looked as though he had barely enough energy to stand. Longevity was part of fairy magic, and without magic, time had taken a premature hold on Turnball.

“Hello, Julius, I can hear you there,” said Turnball, without opening his eyes. “The sun is glorious, is she not? How can you live without her? Why don’t you unshield? I haven’t seen your face for so long.”

Root relaxed his shield and fought to keep his aim steady. “Shut up, Turnball. Just don’t speak to me. You’re a convict-to-be, that’s all. Nothing more.”

Turnball opened his eyes. “Ah, little brother. You don’t look well. High blood pressure. No doubt brought on by hunting for me.”

Julius couldn’t help being drawn into conversation. “Look who’s talking. You look like a rug that’s been beaten once too often. And still wearing the old LEP uniform, I see. We don’t have ruffled collars any more, Turnball. If you were still a captain, you’d know that.”

Turnball fluffed his collar. “Is that really what you want to talk to me about, Julius? Uniforms? After all this time.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk when I visit you in prison.”

Turnball extended his wrists dramatically. “Very well, Commander. Take me away.”

Julius was suspicious. “Just like that? What are you up to?”

“I’m tired,” sighed his brother. ‘I’m tired of life among the Mud People. They are such barbarians. I want to go home, even if it is to a cell. You have obviously dispatched my helpers, so what choice do I have?” Root’s soldier’s intuition was pounding like a bell clapper inside his skull. He dropped the thermal filter in his visor and saw that there was only one other fairy in the dwelling. Someone tied in a sitting position. That must be Captain Kelp.

“And where is the delightful Corporal Short?” asked Turnball casuall

y.

Root decided to leave himself an ace in the hole, in case he needed it. “Dead,” he spat. “Your dwarf shot her when she warned me. That’s another charge you will have to answer for.”

“What’s another charge? I only have one life to spend in captivity. You’d better hurry up and arrest me, Julius. Because if you don’t, I may go back inside the house.”

Julius had to think quickly. It was obvious that Turnball had something planned. And he would probably make his move when Julius zipped on the cuffs. Then again he couldn’t make a move if he was unconscious.

Without a word of warning, the commander hit his brother with a low-level charge. Just enough to knock him out for a few moments. Turnball slumped backward, a surprised look on his face.

Root holstered his Neutrino and hurried toward his brother. He wanted Turnball trussed like a solstice turkey when he came to. Julius took three steps, then he didn’t feel so well. A pounding headache landed on him like a lead weight from a height. Sweat popped from every pore and his sinuses were instantly blocked. What was going on here? Root dropped to his knees, then all fours. He felt like throwing up, then sleeping for eight hours. His bones had turned to jelly and his head weighed a ton. Every breath sounded amplified and distant.

The commander stayed in that position for over a minute, completely helpless. A kitten could have knocked him over and stolen his wallet. He could only watch as Turnball regained consciousness, shook his head to dislodge the afterbuzz, then began to smile slowly.

Turnball rose, towering above his helpless brother. “Who is the smart one?” he shouted at his stricken brother. “Who has always been the smart one?” Root could not answer. All he could do was try to marshal his thoughts. It was too late for his body: that had betrayed him.