The Last Guardian

“No,” admitted Artemis. “That was a fiction to force you into revealing yourself. I had to be certain.”

 

 

Holly elbowed Artemis out of the way. “Berserker, listen to me. I know you are bound to Opal and cannot betray her, but this human is going in the vat one way or another. So vacate his body and move on to the afterlife. There is nothing more you can do here. This is not a fitting end for a mighty Berserker.”

 

Gobdaw sagged in Butler’s arms. “Ten thousand years. So many lifetimes.”

 

Holly touched Gobdaw’s cheek. “You have done everything asked of you. To rest now is no betrayal.”

 

“Perhaps the human is toying with me. This is a bluff.”

 

Holly shuddered. “The vat is no bluff. Opal imprisoned me in it once. It was as though my soul grew sick. Save yourself, I beg you.”

 

Artemis nodded toward Butler. “Very well, no more delays. Drop him in.”

 

Butler shifted his grip to Gobdaw’s shoulders, lowering him slowly.

 

“Wait, Artemis!” cried Holly. “This is a fairy hero.”

 

“Sorry, Holly—there is no more time.”

 

Gobdaw’s toes hit the gunk, sending vaporous tendrils curling around his legs, and he knew in that instant that this was no bluff. His soul would be imprisoned forever in the rendered fat.

 

“Forgive me, Oro,” he said, casting his eyes to the heavens.

 

Gobdaw’s spirit peeled away from Myles and hovered in the air, etched in silver. For several moments it hung, seeming confused and anxious, until a dollop of light blossomed on its chest and began to swirl like a tiny cyclone. Gobdaw smiled then, and the hurt of the ages dropped from his face. The spinning light grew larger with each revolution, spreading its ripples to swallow Gobdaw’s limbs, torso, and finally, face, which at the moment of transition wore an expression that could only be described as blissful.

 

For the observers, it was impossible to look upon that ghostly face and not feel just a little envious.

 

Bliss, thought Artemis. Will I ever attain that state?

 

Myles shattered the moment by kicking his feet vigorously, sending ribbons of fat flying.

 

“Artemis! Get me out of here!” he ordered. “These are my favorite loafers!”

 

Artemis smiled. His little brother was back in control of his own mind.

 

Myles would not speak until he had cleaned his shoes with a wet wipe.

 

“That fairy ran through the mud in my shoes,” he complained, sipping a second glass of acai juice. “These are kidskin shoes, Arty.”

 

“He’s quite precocious, n’est-ce pas?” Artemis whispered from the side of his mouth.

 

“Look who’s talking, plume de ma tante,” Butler whispered right back at him.

 

Artemis picked Myles up and sat him on the edge of the desk. “Very well, little man. I need you to tell me everything you remember from your possession. The memories will soon begin to dissipate. That means…”

 

“I know what dissipate means, Arty. I’m not three, for heaven’s sake.”

 

Holly knew from long experience that shouting at Myles and Artemis would not hurry them along, but she also knew that it would make her feel better. And at the moment she felt glum and dirty after her treatment of one of the People’s most illustrious warriors. Yelling at Mud Boys might be just the thing to cheer her up a little.

 

She settled for a prod at medium volume. “Can you two get a move on? There is no time-stop in operation here. Morning is on the way.”

 

Myles waved at her. “Hello, fairy. You sound funny. Have you been sucking helium? Helium is an inert, monatomic gas, by the way.”

 

Holly snorted. “Oh, he’s your brother all right. We need whatever information he has in his head, Artemis.”

 

Artemis nodded. “Very well, Holly. I am working on it. Myles, what do you remember from Gobdaw’s visit?”

 

“I remember everything,” replied Myles proudly. “Would you like to hear about Opal’s plan to destroy humanity, or how she plans to open the second lock?”

 

Artemis took his brother’s hand. “I need to know everything, Myles. Start at the beginning.”

 

“I will start at the beginning, before the memories start to dissipate.”

 

Myles told them everything in language that was a decade beyond his years. He did not stray from the point or become confused, and at no instant did he seem worried about his future. This was because Artemis had often told his little brother that intelligence will always win out in the end, and there was nobody more intelligent than Artemis.

 

Unfortunately, after the events of the past six hours, Artemis did not have the same faith in his own maxim that he used to. And, as Myles told his story, Artemis began to believe that even his intelligence would not be enough to forge a happy ending from the mess they were mired in.

 

Perhaps we can win, he thought. But there will be no happy ending.

 

 

 

 

 

Haven City, the Lower Elements