The Last Guardian

Opal Koboi elbowed through her acolytes to the edge of the chasm that had suddenly appeared to suck her nemeses from their fate.

 

“No!” she squealed, tiny fists pounding the air. “I wanted their heads. On spikes. You people do that all the time, right?”

 

“We do,” admitted Oro, through the mouth of Beckett. “Limbs too, betimes.”

 

Opal could have sworn that, underneath her stamping feet, the ground burped.

 

 

 

 

 

The Fowl Estate, Several Feet Belowground

 

 

Artemis tumbled down and down, striking knees and elbows against the crooks of roots and sharp limestone corners that protruded from the earth like half-buried books. Clumps of dirt crumbled around him, and stones rattled down his shirt and up his pant legs. His view was obstructed by the twirl of tumble and layers of earth, but there was a glowing above. And below too? Was that possible?

 

Artemis was confused by the thump of wood behind one ear and the luminous glow from below. It was below, wasn’t it?

 

I feel like Alice falling into Wonderland.

 

A line came to him:

 

It would be so nice if something made sense for a change.

 

No fall can last forever when gravity is involved, and Artemis’s descent was mercifully gradual as the crater funneled to a bottleneck, which Butler and Holly had the decency to block with their tangled frames and limbs before they plopped through the hole. Rough hands grabbed at Artemis, tugging him through to a tunnel beneath.

 

Artemis landed on the body heap and blinked the mud from his eyes. Someone, or something, stood naked before him, an ethereal figure glowing with divine light from head to foot. It reached out a shining hand and spoke in a deep movie promo voice:

 

“Pull my finger.”

 

Artemis relaxed neck muscles that he hadn’t realized were tensed. “Mulch.”

 

“The one and only. Saving your brainiac butt once more. Remind me, who’s supposed to be the genius around here?”

 

“Mulch,” said Artemis again.

 

Mulch pointed his proffered finger like a gun. “Aha. You’re repeating yourself. You once told me that repeating yourself is an exercise in redundancy. Well, who’s redundant now, Mud Boy? What good did your genius do you with those freaks up there?”

 

“None,” admitted Artemis. “Can we argue later?”

 

“’Cause you’re losing the argument,” scoffed Mulch.

 

“No, because those freaks are on our tail. We need to retreat and regroup.”

 

“Don’t worry about that,” said Mulch, reaching a forearm into a hole in the tunnel wall and yanking out a thick root. “Nobody’s following us anywhere once I collapse the tunnel mouth. But you might want to scoot forward a yard or two.”

 

The earth above them rumbled like thunderclouds cresting a low mountain, and Artemis was gripped with a sudden certainty that they were all about to be crushed. He scurried forward and flattened himself against the cold dark mud wall, as if that could possibly make any difference.

 

But Mulch’s tunnel held its integrity, and only the spot where Artemis had been was completely blocked.

 

Mulch wrapped his fingers around Butler’s ankle and, with some effort, hauled the unconscious bodyguard along the tunnel floor.

 

“You carry Holly. Gently now. By the looks of your hand, she drove those spirits away and saved your life. Before I saved it. Probably just after Butler saved it. You seeing a pattern emerging, Artemis? You starting to realize who the liability is here?”

 

Artemis looked at his hand. He was branded with a spiral rune where Holly had blasted him. The last globs of Berserker ectoplasm slicking his hair caused him to shudder at the sight.

 

A protection rune.

 

Holly had branded them to save them. And to think he had doubted her.

 

Artemis scooped up Holly and followed the glowing dwarf, tentatively feeling his way with tapping toes.

 

“Slow down,” he called. “It’s dark in here.”

 

Mulch’s voice echoed along the tunnel. “Follow the globes, Arty. I gave ’em an extra coating of dwarf spit, the magical solution that can do it all, from glow in the dark to repel ghostly boarders. I should bottle this stuff. Follow the globes.”

 

Artemis squinted at the retreating glow and could indeed distinguish two wobbling globes that shone a little brighter than the rest.

 

Once he realized what the globes were, Artemis decided not to follow too closely. He had seen those globes in action and still had the occasional nightmare.