“Now, this should be interesting,” mused ten-year-old Artemis.
Holly was forced into action. She had been discreetly tucked away behind the broad trunk of an imported baobab tree, shield off, conserving magic, keeping an eye out for young Artemis, when Mulch blew a hole in the earth into the wrong cage. He exploded from the ground in a minicyclone of debris and bounced off a few surfaces like a cartoon pinball, before collapsing onto the cage floor.
The cage’s resident, a black-and-gray bull gorilla, shot straight up, woken from deep sleep. His eyes were wide but blurred, his teeth yellow and bared.
Stay down, Artemis, she thought. Stay in the hole.
No such luck. Artemis clambered to the surface, carefully navigating the simple climb. The time stream had not granted him any agility. As Artemis often said, the physical was not his area.
Holly thumbed her ad-com. “Get Mulch out of there, Arty,” she shouted. “Get back down now.”
It was too late. The gorilla had decided these newcomers were a threat to be dealt with. It rolled from its nest of leaves and bark, landing on eight knuckles, the impact sending a jarring wave along its arm hair.
Holly buzzed up her shield as she ran, silver strands floating behind her as the wig fell apart, marking her trail.
The gorilla attacked, grabbing a surprised Artemis Fowl by the shoulders, roaring in his face, head back, teeth like a bear trap.
Holly was at the gate, powering down, pulling the omnitool from her pocket, jabbing the business end into the lock. She surveyed the scene inside the cage while she waited for the tool to work.
Mulch was up and on his elbows now, shaking a groggy head. It would be a moment or two before he was in any shape to help, if he deigned to help a human stranger.
Anyway, it was immaterial; a moment or two would be too late for Artemis.
The omnitool beeped and the cage door swung open, a narrow walkway extended from the footpath crossing a moat and slotting into grooves on the habitat floor.
Holly charged across without hesitation, waving her arms, shouting, making herself a target.
The gorilla huffed and snorted, gathering Artemis close to its chest, warning Holly to stay back. Artemis’s head flopped on his shoulders, and his eyes were half closed.
Holly stopped ten feet from the animal and lowered her arms and gaze. A nonthreatening stance.
The gorilla made a few fake attacks, thundering to within a foot of Holly then contemptuously turning his back, all the while grunting and barking, pressing Artemis to his chest. Artemis’s hair was slicked back with blood, and a crimson trickle leaked from the corner of his left eye. One arm was broken, and blood pouched the sleeve of his tracksuit.
Holly was shocked. Appalled. She felt like crying and running away. Her friend was injured, possibly dead.
Get a grip! she told herself. You are older than you look.
One of the fairy magical powers was the gift of tongues, and this encompassed a rudimentary grasp of some of the more sophisticated animal tongues. She would never be discussing global warming with a dolphin, but she knew enough for basic communication.
With gorillas it was as much about body language as what was actually said. Holly squatted low, elbows crooked, knuckles on the earth, spine curved forward— the posture of a friend—then she funneled her lips and hooted several times. Danger! the hoots said. Danger is near!
The gorilla did a comical double take, amazed to hear gorilla-speak coming from this creature. It sensed a trick but was not sure what that trick might be. And when in doubt, beat your chest.
The gorilla dropped Artemis, stood tall on two feet, thrusting forward chin and pectorals, and began beating its chest with open palms.
I am king here. Do not trifle with me, was the clear message.
A wise sentiment indeed, but Holly had no choice.
She darted forward, hooting all the time, throwing in the odd terrified screech, and then, against the advice of every wildlife expert who had ever held a steadi-cam, she looked directly into the animal’s eyes.
Leopard, she hooted, layering her voice with the fairy mesmer. Leopard!
The gorilla’s fury was replaced by dull confusion, which was in turn pushed aside by terror.
Leopard! Holly hooted. Climb!
Moving with less than its customary grace, the gorilla stumbled toward the rear of the cage, moving as though underwater, senses dulled by the mesmer. Trees and foliage were batted aside, leaving a wake of sap-crowned trunks and flattened grass. In moments the animal had disappeared deep into the dark recesses of its artificial habitat.
Fearful gibberings floated from the upper canopy.
Holly would feel bad later for putting the beast under a spell, but now there was not a heartbeat to waste on guilt. Artemis was grievously injured, perhaps mortally so.
The gorilla had dropped Artemis like a carcass that had been picked clean. He lay there, still as the dead.
No. Don’t think that.
Holly raced to her friend’s side, skidding the final yard on her knees.