I apologize for the late update. I've been rather busy recently, what with teachers assigning projects and essays and tests and having them due all around the same time period. Plus, AP season is coming up...so expect rather short chapters.
"WHERE ARE YOU? SHOW YOURSELF!" Commander Root yelled.
He had followed the GPS signal from Captain Kelp's tracker, courtesy of Foaly, into a small cottage on the icy coast of Norway. Expecting to be confronted by a hostage situation, he instead found the said piece of equipment on a table in the middle of a completely empty room, save for a rickety table, a broken chair, and patches of mildew and lichens here and there.
There was also the scent of salty sea air, but not the healthy, clean kind. More like the musty stench of stagnant air that had been circulating around a closed, unused area for too long.
A closed, unused area.
Commander Root scanned the room once again. Obviously, this little shack had been untouched for a while, unless you counted arrived here before him to place Captain Kelp's tracker inside.
"Commander Root, I was wondering when to expect you here," a voice said.
Turning to the direction of the noise, Commander Root saw, instead of a speaking person, a crackling green fire that had sprung up out of nowhere. The speaker was using the fire to communicate somehow, but there was no head or sound system present. Commander Root wished he had paid more attention in chemistry class back in school. He had forgotten most of what he had learned in science in lieu of more important things, like how to handle guns and catch criminals and face psychotic Mud Men. That other stuff? That was Foaly's job.
Green fire was produced by burning copper salt, wasn't it? Yes, that was it. So that was why the fire was green. As to how the Mud Man was communicating through the fire...well, Commander Root assumed that there was some sort of radio hidden in the wall somewhere.
Or maybe this was one aspect of Mud Man technology that he had not yet figured out. He wouldn't put it past this psychotic Mud Man - no, Mud Boy - to have something that neither the pathetically corrupt and inefficient Mud Man government nor the People knew about.
"Who are you?" he bellowed.
"Before I bring that to your concern, I would like you to look around and tell me what you see."
What sort of sick game was this? Root didn't trust whoever was talking. The flames had distorted the voice somewhat, but intuition told him that this speaker and the human child that had captured the best LEPRetrieval anyone had seen in ages were the same. Nevertheless, he complied, and looked around.
With horror, he realized that he had just walked straight into a trap.
"D'Arvit!"
Artemis watched through the fire-call portal with amusement.
He had taken the Captain's tracker out of the country, to Norway, where it was less easy for the government (and his mother) to find out about his plans. Quite inconveniently, the underage Trace extended past the United Kingdom into Ireland even though the Ministry of Magic in Britain legally only had jurisdiction on that patch of land. The wizarding community on the British Isles had established seventeen as the legal age centuries ago, unfortunately, and nothing could change that.
But there was nothing like a well-planned ambush of technology and knowledge to compensate.
He could hear the commander swear loudly as the elf realized that he had been tricked. Artemis smirked to himself as he briefed Commander Root of his options.
As of now, the Book was truly his best friend.
Julius Root was absolutely furious. "D'Arvit, d'Arvit, d'Arvit!" he hissed repeatedly.
The entire room was masked with wires, so thin that they were near invisible. Each string of metal was made of pure silver, crisscrossing over the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and made thousands of intersections like a spider-web.
The moment he had entered and shut the door, the circuit had been completed, and Root had sealed his own fate. Quite literally, sealed his own fate. All puns aside.
Silver was a anchoring substance to fairies. In dangerous dimensional leaps like time travel, it could potentially save a life and keep one's body from being sucked into another vortex. On the flip side, that meant that silver could also permanently anchor a fairy to a certain location when strung properly.
And in this case, it had been.
The Mud Boy had taken no chances. He had strung the wires in such a way so that there were no loopholes left open. Commander Root supposed that he had to give the Mud Boy some credit at least for doing his research, because only through very precise planning and calculation could someone - and a little Mud Boy at that - catch an experienced elf like him off-guard. As it was, though, he was too angry at the crafty little whelp and annoyed at his own stupidity to think about that.
With the metal all around him, Root found that he could not move anywhere outside of the cottage. He had literally walked right into a checkmate.
Angrily staring at the fire, he yelled, "What do you want?"
The voice chuckled. "How touching, that you actually care. So many have asked me that, but I am afraid that now is not the time and place to answer."
"You are sick," Root hissed. "Let me go."
"I will, eventually." The awful child was actually enjoying this. What type of sociopath had raised this child? Or was he just born that way? Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. "We will have a very pleasant talk, you and I, about the fate of your dear Captain."
"If you've harmed a tip of my officer's pointy ears –"
"Your officer? Oh dear, now we touch the sensitive side."
Root was fuming. The voice continued. "Perhaps you can comply with my…shall we say, requests. Or, perhaps, you can live in your new house, forever, if you prefer."
Root was cornered and he knew it. This was a Hobson's choice. He doubted that he could try to break out - the wires were connected in an infinite loop. Because of this, he couldn't try to cut the wires and attempt to break the circuit, either - at least, not without violating some very important laws of magic.
"Don't try to sugar coat it, Mud Boy. What are your demands?" Root was admitting defeat, but he would be damned if he ever let his fiery, fighting mentality leave him.
The voice laughed. "We shall find out, won't we?"
"Stop playing around!" Root ordered. He wasn't expecting any obedience in this situation, though.
"Very well. On the table, there should be a small bowl of green powder. Take some and throw it into the fire. I shall do the rest."
This had not better be another trap, Root thought. It couldn't get any worse than this.
The flames shot up in emerald spikes, and the commander felt like the world was spinning, before he collapsed.
The Commander had landed quite ungracefully on the carpet of a human dwelling. It was some sort of study, with a desk and cases lined to the end with books all around the walls. Otherwise, it was empty except for a small boy sitting at the end of the desk, hands folded under his chin and a sinister grin on his face.
The Mud Boy. The one that had given him so much trouble.
Trouble. Trouble Kelp. He could be in this building. His best officer, captured by a lowly human. And now, Root was, too.
"Good evening, Commander Root," he greeted pleasantly. "I hope you have had an agreeable trip."
Root scowled at him. Picking himself up off the floor, he dusted the soot off of his uniform. "A bit small for a Mud Boy, aren't we?"
Artemis smiled. "I have plenty of time to grow, but thank you for your concern." Compared to most fairies, Julius Root was fairly tall – a little taller than Artemis, even.
"Enough of this small talk. You have kidnapped one of my officers, ambushed me, and still expect me to negotiate peacefully with you, Mud Boy?" This was awful. He hadn't been outsmarted by just any Mud Man, or a Mud Boy, but a small, undersized one at that. He didn't know much about Mud Man height proportions, but this kid seemed extremely short for his age. It was embarrassing. "What was that, anyway?"
"Floo Powder," the boy answered simply, as if it was all of the explanation in the world.
Root frowned to himself.
What in the name of the gods was "flew powder"? Was it some sort of Mud Man mode of transport? He had learned about those ruddy airplanes and cars before, but never about fireplace travel. Perhaps this was another one of the little boy's inventions that he had cooked up with stolen technology. He made a mental note to tell Foaly to look that up later. Now was not the time or place to dawdle on Mud Man oddities.
Root was wondering if he should just shoot the boy right then and there, mind-wipe him, and run for it. But the boy was much older than he looked, apparently, for he said, "These talks shall remain diplomatic while you are here, Commander Root. This is an order – no violence. You shall remain here until I am satisfied with the results of our conference – this is my dwelling."
This Mud Boy was too smart. How did he even know all of the rules? "You win, Mud Boy. What do you want?"
The boy smiled. "Tell me, Commander, how much are you willing to pay for the safety of your officer?"
"What do you want?" Root snarled again.
"Perhaps you should turn off your communication first," the boy smiled. "I am afraid that those on the other end would not exactly convince you to comply."
Root groaned. But he did as he was told, and could hear Foaly swear on the other side of the connection.
"Very well. Now, what do you want?"
"Nothing much…just this," the human child said. He slid a piece of paper across the table to Root.
Root's eyes bulged.
"You cannot be serious!" he yelled. This did not faze the Mud Boy one bit.
"Oh, but I am. And I will be gracious enough to give you time to discuss this with your advisors. But be warned…break your end of the deal, and I will see to it that Captain Kelp does not see light ever again."
AUTHOR'S CHALLENGE!
While I am studying for AP exams, you guys can help me buy some time in writing another chapter by participating in my guessing game!
What do you think Artemis wants from the fairies? Hint: It's not gold, since he already has the Philosopher's Stone. But it's definitely something really important. And it might be a little more obvious than I think it is.