A/N: Agi rubs her hands in a satisfied way I got so many desperate reviews saying 'oh no, not Patrick!' Only two reviewers thought of Fiona. Kudos to them, they're clever!
Review responses sent out, as usual.
Also thanks to: Mousewolf, SPG, Zodokai, Purple Eyed Cat, Queen Dragon, JediWeasley, Aytheria, Lady Emerald Black (please sign in, otherwise I can't respond to your review), Cokkii, TheWatcherandReader, Lii, The White Lily, Longsworder, CarynG, artemisfowl12, hello, Moon Vampire, frenchpiment, Chibi Binasu-chan, The OddBird, MissEcoFreakTheDarkPrecursor, AmethysNox, Fleury, JoJo, Anonymous, Teya Yashitoda, the grass is always greener, Saphira, Soccer101
Chapter 15
Losing Him Twice
Dead. Patrick. Dead.
These two words were chasing each other in Artemis's mind, while an invisible, icy hand clenched at his heart. He felt cold, colder than at the Arctic, colder than ever before. This was an inner coldness that numbed him, made him unable to move, unable to think.
Patrick. Dead.
His mind was frozen to such an extent that he couldn't make coherent thoughts aside from repeating those two words. And then came the images.
Himself looking at a tiny compact mirror sort of thingie and first seeing little Patrick in it… the child must have been about a year old, toddling towards his mummy, his short arms flailing in the camera's direction…
First seeing Patrick in real life, inside the sacrificial chamber of Second Tenochtitlan and realising how much the boy looked and behaved like him…
A boy sitting on the edge of his bed in the fairy hospital, looking worriedly down at him…
The same boy leaning forward and slipping into his embrace…"I'm proud… of being… your son."
Then slowly, other thoughts came. Thoughts of self-accusation. Had he not been hurt by Keve, then Patrick wouldn't have used all his magic on him and would have been able to heal himself… It should've been me who died…
One single tear ran down Artemis's left cheek, landing on the boy's forehead. "You shouldn't have wasted all your magic on me…" he muttered, as though the child could still hear him. But he could not.
Then another thought flashed across Artemis's mind. "Magic!" he breathed. "Fiona!"
An expression of exhilaration spread on his face. Of course! He had seen her return about an hour before! At that time Patrick had been at the party, so he couldn't have known the fairy was back otherwise he surely would have first gone to Fiona for help instead of crawling to his father's tent…
Adrenaline and a healthy amount of hope coursing through his veins, Artemis bent down and scooped up the boy. He stood up and almost fell – the boy weighed more than he was used to carrying, and he was still recuperating from his own injuries. But it didn't matter. His wound didn't matter. Patrick's life did. Only Patrick did.
Sagging under the boy's weight, Artemis stumbled out of the tent and broke into a run – as much as he could run – towards the fairy's tent.
o o o O O O o o o
Fiona dropped the hairbrush she was just about to put into a sack as Artemis burst into her tent.
"Fiona!" he cried. He looked pale, he was breathing heavily, and the bandages that must have been hiding a rather nasty wound on his chest had soaked through. He looked a fright, but what most frightened Fiona was the sight of the limp form in his arms.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"You must save him," Artemis said, placing the boy on the fairy's cot.
"What?" She frowned.
"Your magic. Heal him."
"My… magic?" She blinked. How could this Mud Man know about magic?
"I know you have it, I'll explain later how I know, just save him, please," came the anxious reply.
Right, Fiona thought. This wasn't the time for explanations but for action. She leaned over the boy and slipped a hand into his shirt. There was a small wound on his abdomen, but it was immediately clear for her that the wound had been caused by a sword that had gone into the body from behind – its tip must have punctured the skin on his abdomen too, but the major wound must be on his back – and inside him. She grabbed the boy's wrist to feel his pulse and after a few seconds jerked her hand back in horror. "B…but… he's… he's already…"
"I know," Artemis sighed. "But you can bring him back!"
"What? No! I've never… it can't be done!"
"It can! I've seen your granddaughter do it, if she could, you can!"
"Grand…what?"
"I'll explain later, just do it, please!" Artemis was pleading. No, beseeching. Something he had never done in his whole life. "Quick! He's been dead for about three minutes already, after four minutes there will be brain damage!"
"Help me turn him over," Fiona said, trying to muster as much calmness as possible. Artemis complied without a word and the fairy quickly rolled up the child's shirt to have a better access to the place where the blade had gone in.
It was a nasty wound: not wide, but deep. The sword had been stabbed all the way through the body, after all. There was no way she could make it… she had never healed a wound this serious, and no fairy had ever brought back another one to life let alone a Mud Man… But Artemis was so desperate… and she too liked the boy… She had to give it a try.
When her father had still been alive, Fiona had been the cook in the small family and she'd felt revolted every time she had to slice a bigger chunk of juicy, raw meat into smaller pieces and avoided getting her fingers bloody as often as she could. Now, however, she knew she had to put her fingers as deep into the wound as possible – as deep into a Mud Boy's body as possible. This wasn't a time for revulsion.
Fighting down an urge to be sick, she stuck three of her fingers into the wound at Patrick's back. "Heal."
o o o O O O o o o
Csenge arrived at the meadow full of anticipation. The stars were visible enough already, so now all she had to do was wait for Patricius and the stargazing could begin. Well, if they got to look at the stars at all, she thought amusedly. She strongly hoped that most of the time Patricius would devote his attention to kissing her instead of to watching the Route of Armies…
She inhaled deeply – she had always loved the cool, fragrant night air. So beautiful, so quiet…
Then suddenly a voice caught her ear. "Fiona!" The voice shouted. It sounded like Patricius's brother… er… father, she corrected herself. And he sounded anxious.
Curiosity taking over, Csenge crept to the tent from where the cry had come. There was a heated discussion inside. She couldn't understand all of it, but there were a few distinctive words that she caught: magic, heal, bring back, brain damage. What was all this about?
Tentatively, she lifted the heavy curtain-like material covering the tent's entrance and peered inside. What she saw froze the blood in her veins. Patricius – her Patricius – was lying on the cot, a huge wound on his back, and that crazy fairy-woman was pushing her fingers into the wound, thousands of blue sparks circling around them.
It continued on like this for a long time, but neither Artemis Faulus nor Fiona noticed the girl peeking into the tent: they were too busy keeping the boy in place. Csenge had never seen anyone's body thrash like this before. It looked like a fish out of water, struggling to return to the waves. It was a horrifying thing to look at. Still, Csenge couldn't move, couldn't run away, couldn't even turn her gaze away.
Then finally the thrashing stopped and the boy's body stilled. Fairy and human bent over him with worried expressions.
"Is he alive?" Artemis asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," came the reply. "But still unconscious. Who… who tried to kill him?"
"I don't know," the man said, gently sweeping a lock of auburn hair out of the boy's sweat-soaked face. "Probably someone had been hiding out there in the bushes… just like that assassin who had tried to murder you."
"But… they couldn't have wanted to murder me this time," the fairy said. "They couldn't have known I'd return today."
"No. That blade was meant for somebody else," Artemis said, suddenly pressing his hand over his bandages and falling to his knees.
"Frond, you're bleeding!" Fiona yelped. "You exerted yourself too much…"
"Doesn't matter…" the young man muttered, his face contorted with pain. "Had to… carry… Patrick… over…"
"Patrick?" a voice spoke up and both Artemis and Fiona looked in the direction of the entrance. There stood a pale Hun girl looking horror-struck. "Isn't… isn't his name… Patricius?"
Artemis opened his mouth to reply, but no voice came out, and in the next instant the girl turned on her heels and ran away.
Fiona helped Artemis into a chair and gently peeled off the bandages on his chest. "That's one nasty wound too," she observed. "I trust I have a little amount of magic left… barely any, but that should stop the bleeding and help the wound heal, at least partly."
Too much in pain, all Artemis could do was nod and let her treat him. Fiona laid her palm on the man's chest and ejected eight or nine sparks. "Apparently that's all I had left. But that should do for now."
Through half-closed eyelids, Artemis watched as those few sparks pulled the edges of his wound closer and closer until they formed one line only. The bleeding stopped and the pain subsided. He knew that if he hadn't carried Patrick, his wound wouldn't have opened… but it had been worth it. His son was alive and he wouldn't lose him again… Never, he swore.
"There, you're good as new. Well, almost," Fiona said with a small smile. "And now I'm awaiting your explanation, Artemis Faulus. And don't leave anything out."
Artemis took a deep breath. He hadn't been planning on telling anything about the reason for their visit-to-the-past to Fiona, but the cat was out of the bag… He had no choice but to tell her the truth. He only hoped that it wouldn't change anything… that it wouldn't change history.
"My real name isn't Artemis Faulus but Artemis Fowl. He," he gestured to Patrick, "is called Patrick and is my son."
"Your son?" Fiona's eyes widened. "Aren't you a bit too young to have a son this old?"
"I am… but he's still my son. And your great-grandson."
"My what?"
o o o O O O o o o
"Murder!" Csenge burst into the tent where most of the guests were still enjoying themselves at the wedding feast. She knew she'd find Prince Csaba there… "Patricius Faulus has been murdered!"
"What?" Mulch hopped up from the ground where he had been devouring half a chicken. "Little Pat died?" The hard-to-be-shaken dwarf paled and dropped his chicken.
"Well, he's back to life, but only because the fairy Fiona healed him, but he was dead!" Csenge said, breathless.
"What do you mean he was dead?" Prince Csaba rose from the table and walked up to the girl. "Who killed him?"
"I don't know, but someone attacked him on the meadow!" Csenge panted.
Krimhilda and Detre exchanged a sour glance, but nobody noticed.
"Come, let's go investigate," the prince said, beckoning to a few Huns who immediately rose from their seats and followed him. Csenge and Mulch ran after the Huns.
o o o O O O o o o
Artemis heaved a sigh. "It's a long and complicated story… I don't even know where to begin…"
"At the beginning, perhaps?" The fairy crossed her arms, giving the Mud Man a demanding glance.
"Well… at the beginning, okay… So, Patrick and I came from the future."
"Excuse me?" Fiona blinked.
"The future. From 2016, to be exact. About one thousand and five hundred years in the future. In that time I'm an inventor and I invented a machine that enables you to travel in time."
"Unbelievable," she breathed.
"I know, but it's still true. I'm a genius… well, used to be one… so I invented it, and when I was no longer a genius, Patrick helped me finish it."
The fairy glanced at the unconscious form of the boy. "How come he's your son and… my great-grandson? It's just ridiculous…"
"Sounds ridiculous, eh?" Artemis grimaced. "I thought Holly was joking when she said we had a child together…"
"Holly?"
"Your granddaughter. An elf in my time. You remind me a lot of her, but her hair is much shorter…"
"I still don't get it…" Fiona shook her head. "Let's assume that I believe you that you've come from the future. It's totally absurd, but let's say I believe it. But how on earth could a fairy and Mud Man have a child together, huh? They just don't… fit… down there." She blushed and looked away.
"We didn't have Patrick the traditional way. It was artificial insemination."
"What?"
"You don't have such a thing yet, do you?" he sighed. Apparently not even fairy technology was that advanced in Attila's time.
She shook her head.
"Well, it's like this: doctors get an egg from the female and some sperm from the male and let them join in a petri dish… I trust you know what an egg is and what sperm is?"
"Not really…"
Great. Just great, Artemis fumed. It seemed that fairies in 453 had the same amount of knowledge on reproduction as humans did till the twentieth century: all they knew was that they had to sleep together and it somehow got the females pregnant, but they didn't know how exactly. "Well, listen… I don't want to give you a biology lesson, so please accept the fact that Holly and I didn't sleep together but we still had Patrick. I didn't even know about his existence until Holly came to me and asked for my help to find the boy who had been kidnapped… So we went after Patrick and saved him, and in the meantime, we realised we loved each other…"
"You love my granddaughter?"
"Yes. I married her and she's expecting a baby now. I mean, in the future. And that baby was conceived the traditional way."
"But… but… how? You can't fit, it's impossible!"
"Oh, that was Patrick's doing… he invented a serum that can turn a fairy into a Mud Man look-a-like. Holly drank it, and joined me to live with me as a Mud Woman. Patrick used the same serum to look like he does now, as normally he's shorter and has pointy ears."
"My… granddaughter… She left her people to live with you?" Fiona breathed.
A proud smile spread on Artemis's face. "Yes, she did. A wonderful woman, Holly. So fiery, so courageous… she's working for the Lower Elements Police. Or was working for them until she left."
For a few seconds Fiona stared at the young man in silence, then glanced at her great-grandson (she still barely could believe it), and finally spoke up: "In your time, do the Mud People know about us fairies?"
"No. Only my family and no one else. Well, save the kidnapper..."
"What kidnapper? And how come you know about us? How did you meet my… granddaughter in the first place?"
"I used to be a genius, as I've already mentioned. I found out about the fairies' existence thank to my genius, and… I hate to say it, but I utilised them to my own ends."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I kidnapped a fairy for ransom."
Fiona's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess, it was Holly you kidnapped."
He nodded.
"How come she fell in love with her kidnapper? No fairy in their right mind would!"
"Well, Holly's always been different from the rest." Artemis shrugged with a grin. "She's special… and I love her for that."
Fiona bit into her lower lip. She longed to argue, she longed to tell him she didn't believe it was possible for a fairy to fall for a Mud Man, but she had to remind herself that it had happened to her as well. She loved Attila. Her granddaughter (whose grandfather was obviously Alexius Short) loved this young Mud Man here. Could the inclination to fall in love with Mud Men be inherited? Could it be possible that Holly inherited it from her?
"So…" She looked up to meet Artemis's eyes, "I suppose you're my grandson-in-law or whatever you call that…"
"Something like that." Artemis smiled.
Fiona returned the smile, then her expression changed back to serious. "Why are you here? Why have you come back in time?"
His lips twitched. He was hoping she'd forget to ask him this… But she was just as inquisitive as Holly…
"Holly was kidnapped from our wedding celebration. The kidnapper left me a message, believing me to still be a genius. She… yes, it was a woman, wanted me to find out where Attila was buried. The location of the grave is the key to Holly's freedom."
"I still don't get it." She furrowed her brow. "Why have you come back to this time? What does it have to do with Attila's grave?"
"That grave is well-hidden. Several archaeologists in my time tried to find it, but it was impossible. Allegedly the Huns diverted the course of the river Tisza and dug the grave there, then diverted the water back into its bed. For centuries the Tisza used to have lots of bends that caused serious floods. To take care of this problem, several new channels have been dug for the river to straighten out its course, and the place where Attila is resting is very likely not in the bed of the Tisza in 2016. I am here to witness the funeral or the grave-digging and deliver the coordinates to the kidnapper."
"Coordi-what?"
"The exact location of the grave."
"Oh, I see. But how can you witness the funeral? Attila's not dead," Fiona said, almost sounding amused.
"Perhaps he is already."
"WHAT?"
"He was murdered on his wedding night with Mikolt. By Mikolt."
The fairy gaped at him like a fish. "M…mikolt killing Attila? But… but tonight's the wedding night!"
"That's why I said he might be dead already."
"Attila!" Fiona breathed and ran for the entrance.
"Fiona, wait!" Artemis jumped up from the chair and hurried out into the night. "Wait, Fiona! You can't change history! It can have a radical outcome if you do!"
She doubled back. "Am I supposed to sit back and allow that cow to kill him?" Her voice was wavering and even though Artemis couldn't see her features in the dark, he assumed she must have been crying.
"If you don't want to ruin everything – yes," he said calmly, clutching at his side. He still wasn't healthy enough to run this fast.
"Ruin everything?" she snapped. "His death would do just that!"
"No. His death is history. And if you change that, you might change more than you think. You don't have the right for that. Nobody does."
"But does Mikolt have the right to kill him?"
"No. But you don't have the right to stop her."
"Why… why not?"
"Because you might rob people of their future with an action like that. If Attila stays alive, he might change history so much that it would influence not only humans but fairies as well."
"How? How could he influence fairy history?"
"I don't know." Artemis shrugged. "But we mustn't risk it. History has happened already, in my time. And I'm not here to change it. I can't let you change it either."
"Would you fight me?" she demanded.
"If I had to…"
"I've just saved your life you ungrateful…"
"I'm not ungrateful, Fiona. Just reasonable. While you're thinking with your heart, I'm trying to think with my brains. And I ask you to stop feeling for a single minute and look at things with a cool head. Would you risk the future of your kind, would you risk the future of your son and your granddaughter, just to save the man you love?"
"How… do you know that I… love him?" She shuddered. Had she been broadcasting it to everyone in the camp?
"It was pretty obvious," Artemis said gently, and walked up to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I understand your feelings, Fiona… and I know it hurts, but-"
"Artemis Faulus!" Prince Csaba came hurrying towards them with a few Huns and Mulch in tow. "We heard your son was injured…"
"He's fine already… I think. Isn't he?"
"He is," Fiona replied in a voice full of resignation. Only Artemis knew the reason for her sounding so sad. But at least she finally appeared to be convinced that she mustn't intervene. "Come, let's go back and check on him."
"And you could tell us the details there," the prince suggested.
They entered the tent to find Patrick awake already, squinting at them tiredly. He looked pale and sick but not a bit older than he had before the healing. Artemis had feared that the 'resurrection' might affect his son in a similar way it had Butler, but it hadn't – very likely because Patrick was still too young and a half-fairy with a life-expectancy of about a thousand years. Surely using a few decades of life-force for the healing wouldn't be as visible on him as it had been on the bodyguard.
"Dad," he whispered, a smile spreading on his face. "How come I'm still alive? Wasn't the injury… too bad for that?"
"It was. But Fiona brought you back." Artemis sat down at the cot and took Patrick's hand. "You'll be all right soon."
"Does she know…?"
"She knows everything."
Fiona gave the boy a sad smile and Artemis's heart plummeted. Now that he had already talked to his son, now that he was sure Patrick was alive and well, he finally dared let himself imagine what Fiona must be feeling. Letting the beloved man be killed… She must have been an unusually strong woman to be able to keep herself upright and act as though nothing happened.
Prince Csaba walked up to the cot and gave the little invalid an encouraging smile. "Hey, Patricius. Nice to see you alive. I know you must be feeling very tired, but I need to ask you a few questions."
"Go ahead," the boy muttered.
"Did you see your attacker?"
"No, your highness. He attacked… from behind."
"Did you lose consciousness immediately?"
"No. After I collapsed, I heard him run away. But… not right after I collapsed. About a minute later. I… I think he must have established… that I wasn't… the one… he wanted to kill. And he got frightened… I gathered all my strength and… crawled to father's tent… and there I passed out."
The prince gave Artemis a questioning stare.
"My son didn't know that Fiona returned but I did. And I heard it from a few of the Huns that she was considered a fairy, so I thought she might be able to… use magic on my son to heal him… and I was right." He tried to look as innocent as possible and not reveal to the prince that he knew all about fairies.
"I never thought you had healing magic," Csaba told Fiona. "And you never told any of us. Or did father know?"
Fiona's face darkened at the mention of Attila, but she nodded. "He knew. Once he even asked me to use it on you."
"On me?" Csaba blinked.
"Yeah." The fairy nodded. "But you can't remember. You were around twelve and very sick. Pneumonia. Even the shamans thought you'd die… but I saved you."
"Well… thank you."
Fiona shrugged. "That was the least I could do for Attila. I knew how much you meant to him."
The prince turned back to Patrick. "Are you absolutely sure the attacker wanted to kill someone else?"
"It's logical," the boy said faintly. "Who would want to… murder me? I'm not a person… of importance."
"Then the question remains: who was the real target?" Csaba mused.
"Obviously someone who should have appeared on the meadow around the same time as my son did," Artemis suggested.
"You girl, did you see anyone around?" Csaba asked Csenge who had been standing silently behind the Hun men.
"No one, your highness." The girl shook her head, her black braids swinging around her neck. "And I doubt that I could have been the target… after all, no one besides Patricius knew I'd be there."
Artemis arched an eyebrow at the girl. "Were you two about to have a date there or what?"
Csenge blushed. "We just wanted to stargaze, sir."
"Indeed?" Artemis looked amused and squinted at his son who didn't look nearly as pale anymore – his cheeks now had a healthy rosy tinge.
"Well, we'd better be going," Csaba said. "Your son needs some rest. Good night." With that he exited the tent, followed by the little group of Huns.
"Good night, Patricius… er… Patrick…" Csenge waved at the reclining boy with a sheepish grin and hurried away.
Artemis, his son, Mulch and Fiona were left alone and heavy silence fell on the tent.
It was Patrick who first spoke up. "Dad… how long… was I dead?"
"About four minutes, Son."
"Do you think… I sustained some… brain damage?" the boy asked with a worried expression.
"354x26?"
"9204," Patrick replied after about five seconds.
"No brain damage." Artemis smirked, then the smirk faded off his face as he spotted Fiona sitting on a chair, her face hidden in her palms. "You decided bravely, Fiona," he said.
The fairy looked up to reveal a tear soaked face. "I wish I felt the same way… But I don't."
o o o O O O o o o
Artemis woke to find himself sitting on the carpet in Fiona's tent, his head bent on the bed Patrick was reclining on. For a few seconds he watched Mulch snoring on another carpet near him, then his glance turned to his son.
The boy looked pale but his chest was rising and falling rhythmically, so Artemis assumed he really must be on the way of recovery. The knowledge that his son had survived – correction, been resurrected – made him feel more relieved than he had ever felt before, not to mention that his heart was filled to bursting with some so far unknown joy. Was this the same feeling that average fathers felt when watching their healthy, handsome sons sleep? Artemis didn't know – all he knew was that he was happy. He was happy, while others were suffering, he reminded himself.
He quickly looked around to spot Fiona sitting on her human-sized chair, her tiny legs drawn up and her arms encircling them. She rested her chin on her knees and was gazing determinedly at the floor, her eyes unfocused. Artemis saw several smudgy streaks her tears had left on her face. She was no longer crying, she seemed to have acquiesced herself to Attila's death. It was only a matter of hours or minutes until they heard an exasperated hustle and bustle from the camp, carrying the news about the king's death…
And indeed, in half an hour when Patrick was awake already, Csenge and Irnik put in an appearance, Irnik's face pale and his sister's eyes wide with terror.
"Have you heard it?" Irnik croaked.
"What?" Artemis tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. No one was supposed to find out that he had known about Attila's imminent death.
"The king's dead!" Csenge cried. "He died in his sleep of haemorrhage of the nose!"
Artemis squinted at Fiona to see that the fairy's hands clenched into fists. She knew from Artemis that it was Mikolt who killed Attila, not a mere nosebleed.
"That is horrible," Artemis said with as much compassion in his voice as he could muster.
"Yeah, horrible," Patrick added in a weak voice.
"Yes, isn't it?" Csenge nodded, giving the boy a gentle glance.
"And guess what else happened?" Irnik added.
"What?"
"Seer of Stars found Attila's sword in his tent after returning there for the night. No one knows how the Sword of God got there, who put it there and why…"
"Perhaps it was the attacker…" Artemis mused.
"The one who wanted to kill Patricius… er, Patrick?" the girl said, frowning.
"Could be… but of course that person wanted to kill someone else, not Patrick. Perhaps they wanted to kill the prince," Artemis replied.
"Csaba?" Fiona gasped.
"It sounds logical," Patrick commented. "After all… Seer of Stars made that prophecy… according to which only a magical weapon could kill the prince… and that sword is said to have magical properties, right?"
"Yes, Attila himself told me that his sword was magical," his father answered. "It's possible that once the attacker realised that it wasn't the prince he managed to stab, he got frightened and wanted to dispose of the corpus delicti…"
"The what?" Fiona, Irnik and Csenge blinked.
"The blooded sword. The proof that he had wielded it," Artemis explained. "So I'd say he cleaned the sword, probably washed it in the creek, then left it on neutral territory. The shaman's house was perfect for that."
"Then the prince's life is in danger," Fiona concluded, standing up. "I need to warn him."
"Fiona…" Artemis began, but she was already out of the tent. He got up and hurried after her.
"Don't even try to stop me," she snapped, never stopping in her stride. "I couldn't warn Attila, as it would have meant I was changing history, but at least I can warn Csaba, can't I? Or would that too mean changing history, eh?"
"No." The Irishman shook his head. "No, Csaba survived and lived for quite a few years after his father's death."
"Then he perhaps survives because I warn him," she said, finally coming to a halt.
"Well… perhaps. I just wanted to say I was sorry… about Attila."
"Sorry? You?" she let out a bitter laugh. "What do you know of losing someone you love?"
"Actually, a lot. In my time, I lost Holly."
"She was only kidnapped, but she lives!" Fiona stamped her foot.
"But she might die if I don't manage to accomplish this mission," he said darkly, shuddering at the thought of really losing Holly.
"What mission?"
"Finding out where Attila was buried," he reminded her.
"Oh yeah… that," she sighed, resigned. "I'll help you, Artemis Fowl, but only for the sake of my granddaughter and great-grandson. Attila should be buried within a few days and the preparations of the funeral should start right today. I'll find out where they start digging the grave, and… D'Arvit, I can't."
"Can't what?"
"Shield. I can't shield. All my magic's gone! I forgot. I can't sneak around invisible…"
"But you can… together with me," Artemis replied.
"What are you talking about, Mud Man?" She frowned. "You don't have magic powers!"
"No, but I have a camouflage foil."
"Cam… what?"
"Go and warn the prince about the danger, and when you return, I'll show you the cam foil."
"All right." She nodded and hurried off.
o o o O O O o o o
Artemis spent the rest of the day with his son who was recuperating in Fiona's tent. Even though the Hun camp was the epitome of upheaval at the moment, Artemis caught himself enjoying having simple father-to-son talks with Patrick. It was much easier to talk about Patrick's as well as his childhood or the way he and Holly had first met than he had ever expected. So far he had lived in the belief that reminiscing about his childhood or first love was not only a useless waste of time but also highly embarrassing. Now, however, that he had almost lost his precious son, he came to realise that they were supposed to make up for all the years they had spent apart, not even knowing about each other.
Patrick, despite being a genius, was more than willing to open up and disclose petty little secrets to his father, like going behind Foaly's back and re-writing a few of his programs, and Artemis couldn't help but grin, imagining the centaur's dumbstruck expression upon realising that something was seriously amiss with his perfect little programs. He even confided in his son about a few 'pranks' he had pulled on his parents at the age of six. Neither Artemis, nor Patrick noticed Mulch rolling his eyes in the corner.
o o o O O O o o o
Hours passed with Patrick sometimes dropping off, sometimes awakening again to carry on with their father-son chat, and by the time Fiona returned, Artemis was practically glowing with the pride and joy of being a father (and being a father to such a special child at that).
It was around sundown that the fairy put in an appearance, and Mulch didn't miss the chance to tell her that she looked absolutely horrible. She had shadows under her eyes and her face was still dirty from the tears shed the previous night.
Without even giving the dwarf a nasty glance, Fiona dropped herself into her chair with a sigh.
"Have you succeeded in warning Csaba?" Artemis enquired.
She nodded. "Yeah, but I only had a few minutes with him alone, as he was constantly surrounded by the Hun dignitaries. They're licking his boots already, knowing that he's going to be the king in a few days…"
Artemis didn't want to mention that Csaba never got to be the king of the Huns, so he just motioned her to carry on.
"They're planning the funeral already," she said in a tired voice. "The grave-digging will start tomorrow."
"Where?" Artemis asked.
Fiona gave him a wry smile, knowing that this was the piece of information he had travelled back in time for. "By the river Tisza."
"I know that already," the Irishman grunted. "Could you be a bit more specific?"
"I don't know the exact location, Artemis. I couldn't stay all through the meeting Prince Csaba and the noblemen had, so I caught only a few words… but judging by what I heard, it's got to be around the place where the creek runs into the Tisza."
"Well then, we have to go and investigate tomorrow. Under the cam foil, of course."
"Can I go too?" Mulch enquired.
"So that you could return there later and rob the grave?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. "No, Mulch, you may not come with us."
"Spoilsport," Diggums murmured, and his nose up in the air, trotted out of the tent.
"Some never change, eh?" Patrick sniggered, and seeing his great-grandmother's confused expression, he added: "Mulch's a kleptomaniac. Prefers stealing gold."
o o o O O O o o o
The following day Artemis and Fiona got up early. Irnik and Csenge came to visit Patrick who felt strong enough to sit up already, and Artemis was glad that his son had company while he and the fairy were away, trying to have a sneak view of the grave-digging place.
Artemis pocketed the tiny locator he had brought with him to the past, and walked with Fiona to the edge of the forest where they put the cam foil on themselves.
"And, how did Prince Csaba react when you told him that someone was very likely after his blood?" he asked as they made their way across the woods, towards a place about five-six kilometres to the north.
"I couldn't say he was surprised," she replied, her voice sounding cold and completely devoid of emotions. "He said the life of royalties had always been a risk, but it was a risk worth taking, as only royalties had the influence to make the lives of their people better. Csaba's such an idealist… He even asked me if I could bring his father back… but I told him that all my magic was drained."
"And you couldn't have brought him back without brain damage," Artemis reminded her. "You would have brought his body back, but not his mind."
"I don't know how these things work." She shrugged.
"Did Csaba tell you whom he suspected of being the mastermind behind the attack?"
"No, but I know who I suspect," she replied bitterly.
"Aladár?"
"Him, or his mother. Or Detre. That German's always had a shifty look about him. He gives me the creeps."
"Yes, kind of reminds me of a man called Jon Spiro… and that Krimhilda looks like a devious witch… a bit like Opal Koboi."
"Who?"
"A pixie in my time. She almost ruined Haven once and got thrown into prison for it. But she mended her ways… or least she pretends to have mended them, and she's being friendly with Mulch."
"Friendly?" She arched an eyebrow at him.
"They're lovers."
"A pixie and a dwarf? But that's unheard of!"
"Just like an elf and a Mud Man," he reminded her. "But it still works, between Holly and me, and apparently between Mulch and Opal too. By the way, speaking of devious little witches… what happened to Mikolt?"
"Nothing," Fiona hissed. "The shamans decided it would be best to keep it a secret that Attila was murdered, and that little bitch got away with it! She's going to be sent back to her homeland of Bactria, and live happily ever after! Holy Frond, how can Mud People be so thick? Most of the time they hang and burn and be-head the innocent, and when they have a real criminal on their hands, they let them go!"
"I'm sure the Huns had their reasons for doing so," Artemis said. "I expect they don't want the surrounding nations that the Huns had subjugated, to know that the great king died in the bridal bed, at the hands of his innocent, virgin wife. Everyone would be laughing at him…"
"Laugh at him?" she snapped. "No one is entitled to laugh at Attila! You hear me? No one!"
"That's why the shamans thought it better to spread the news that he died a natural death. Perhaps that too sounds a bit… embarrassing for a great warrior like him, but not nearly as embarrassing as the knowledge that a weak woman murdered him. And so that you know: in my time the world remembers him as a great and fearsome warrior, and a wonderful strategist."
Fiona looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Really?" she whispered.
"Really," he replied gently.
For a few minutes they continued walking without a single word, then the fairy broke the silence. "Artemis… tell me more about my granddaughter, will you?"
A warm smile spread on the Irishman's face. "Gladly, Fiona."
o o o O O O o o o
It was late in the afternoon that Artemis and Fiona returned to the tent.
"You looked exhausted, Dad," Patrick commented, sitting on his cot.
"If you too had walked twelve kilometres, you wouldn't be any more fit than I am," his father retorted, though he didn't really manage to sound resentful. "How're you doing, by the way?"
"Fine, Dad. Even walked for a few minutes."
"Indeed?"
"Yes," Csenge trilled enthusiastically. "We didn't want to let him get up, but he's just stubborn. So, Irnik and I supported him from both sides, and we made a little walk outside."
"That's great, Son, I'm happy for you," Artemis said, rubbing his grumbling stomach.
"Oh, you must be hungry!" Csenge perceived. "I'm off to Mum's tent and bring you something, okay?"
"I've got to go too," Irnik added. "No one's fed the horses yet, they must be starving, the poor things."
"Okay then, see you tomorrow." Patrick smiled, even though his heart was filled with sadness. He knew that if his father had succeeded in finding out what they had come here for, then they'd be leaving soon and he might not see his friends again – neither tomorrow, nor ever.
After the Hun siblings departed, Patrick immediately turned to his father. "So?"
"So, we've got the coordinates," Artemis replied.
"That's great," the boy said half-heartedly. "And, what was it like?"
"The digging? Interesting, to say the least. A few thousands slaves were working on diverting the course of the river. We watched them for about an hour."
"And? Are we leaving tomorrow?"
"We're leaving as soon as you feel up to walking longer distances," Artemis replied.
"Then let's leave tomorrow," Patrick said determinedly. The more time he spent with Irnik and especially with Csenge, the harder it would be to part with them.
"Are you sure you can walk that much in your condition?" Fiona frowned.
"Yes, I am. I'm feeling stronger and stronger by the minute. One wouldn't think I was dead just one and a half days ago…"
"Patrick…"
"Yes, Dad?"
"What did it feel like… to die?"
"I don't exactly remember." The boy shrugged. "I was hurting all over, and then suddenly, the pain was gone, and I saw some bright light. It was very bright, but before I could have started enjoying it, I got dragged back."
In about ten minutes, Csenge returned with their dinner. Artemis gladly took a bowl of porridge, but Patrick, instead of taking his, got up shakily and walked up to the girl.
"Let's go outside, shall we?"
Csenge knitted her eyebrows, not knowing what could be so important for 'Patricius' to let his dinner get cold.
"Are you sure you can…?" Artemis asked.
"…Walk? Yes, Dad. And Csenge will help me," the boy said seriously.
The Hun girl propped him from his left and helped him walk outside.
It was a wonderful spring evening, the last rays of the sun painted the sky orange, and the air was heavy with the fragrance of the wild flowers that grew on the nearby meadow.
Patrick stopped by a beech tree, and shifting his arm from Csenge's shoulder, he took hold of her hands. "Csenge, I… need to say good-bye."
"Good-bye?" She echoed him, her black eyes narrowing. "Are you leaving, Patricius… er… Patrick?"
"Call me Patricius if you like." He smiled sadly. "And yes, we're leaving. Tomorrow."
"Why so soon? You need to recover!"
"I'm feeling well enough…"
"But why haven't you told me any earlier-?"
"Because I didn't know when we'd be leaving. My father just told me that we had to leave tomorrow."
"Couldn't you… couldn't you stay just a few more days?" she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.
He looked away, unable to watch her cry. "No, Csenge, we can't. We have to get to Thracia… you know, where my brother's fiancée is waiting for us. We're going to get there late as it is, we can't afford to be any later than we already are."
"And could you come and visit us on your way back from Thracia?" she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. "I'm assuming we're going to go from Thracia to Britannia by ship or something… So we won't meet again." He looked down at their intertwined hands. "This is good-bye, forever, Csenge."
"I will miss you, Patrick," she breathed, and a single droplet of tear fell on his hand holding hers.
"I'll miss you too," he replied, slipping his left hand out of hers and gently wiping her tears away. "And I will always remember you. After all, you were my first girlfriend…"
Csenge let out a chuckle, a small smile spreading on her tear-soaked face.
"You know, you look really pretty when you're smiling…"
"Do I, really?" she asked, inching a bit closer.
"Yes, you do," he murmured, leaning even closer to her until their lips met in a quick, chaste kiss.
o o o O O O o o o
"Hey, Arty, have you seen your little boy?" Mulch asked upon entering Fiona's tent.
"Why and when?" Artemis responded, ladling his porridge.
"Just now." The dwarf grinned. "He and that girl with long braids are smooching outside. They didn't even notice me as I walked past them…"
Artemis couldn't suppress a grimace. His son was snogging a girl at the age of twelve, while he had been twenty-six when he got his first kiss-on-the-lips from one Aztec princess. Then again, hopefully his son wouldn't get to be a father at age fourteen…
"I presume he's saying good-bye to her," he said finally. "We're going home tomorrow, Mulch."
"Ah, really? Good." The dwarf clasped his hands delightedly. "I've been missing those chocolate truffles that Opal and I usually eat in bed…"
"In bed?" Artemis blinked.
"Yeah…" Mulch smirked. "Before it, to gain more strength, and after it, to help us drop off more easily. It works both ways, see. Great things, truffles… You and Holly should try them some day."
"Thank you very much, but Holly and I can perform wonderfully in bed even without truffles," Artemis countered.
"Yeah? How many times a night?" the dwarf said challengingly.
"Five has been our record… but I bet we could do better if we tried," Artemis replied with a triumphant grin.
Men, Fiona thought, rolling her eyes.
o o o O O O o o o
The following day"Good-bye, Fiona," Artemis said, dropping to his knees to be at the same eye-level with the fairy. He remembered having said good-bye to Holly just like this at Haven after the Aztec Incident. The only difference was that at that time he had been saying farewell to this only love, and this time to his only love's grandmother. "I'd like to thank you for everything. For healing Patrick and me, for showing me where the grave was, for believing what I told you about Holly in the first place… I'm truly grateful to you, Fiona."
The fairy gave him a sad smile. "You're welcome, Artemis. Just make sure you free my granddaughter… and make her happy. If you don't, I'll come and haunt you as long as you live!"
"I promise I will make her happy," Artemis replied, knowing well enough what that sad smile on her face meant: she was happy that her granddaughter had a chance to be happy with a Mud Man, but she was grieving after Attila and the happiness she could never have had with him.
"Bye, Great-grandma." Patrick hugged the elf woman affectionately.
"Be a good boy, Patrick." She grinned up at him.
Finally Mulch stepped to her and held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Miss Springwater…"
"Give that back to her," Artemis said.
Rolling his eyes, Mulch pulled a silver spoon out of his pocket and handed it back to Fiona. "Can't help it, Miss. Kleptomania is a serious illness…"
"I'm sure it is," Fiona said, trying to keep her face straight, but despite all her efforts the right corner of her mouth tucked into a small, barely visible smile.
o o o O O O o o o
4 p.m., 15th July 2016, Szeged, Hungary
"I can't believe we're back in our time at last," Mulch sighed happily, dropping himself into an armchair in their hotel room.
"Yes… it feels nice to be back," Artemis said heavily.
"Too bad we couldn't stay and help Csaba find the attacker…" Patrick added, sitting down on the bed. He still didn't feel completely healthy and got tired quickly.
"Not to mention that you could have spent a bit more time with Miss Braids," the dwarf said with a knowing grin.
"Come off it, Mulch!" the boy snapped. "I want to forget her as soon as possible, and it won't help much if you keep mentioning her." With a sullen expression, he turned away from the dwarf and pulled the transporter out of his pocket. Luckily the tiny gadget hadn't broken when he'd thrown it in his anger over not being able to help his father. Just before they set their time machines to 15th July, 2016, he had dived under Mulch's cot and retrieved the machine in the hope that he'd manage to complete it in their own time. Now all he needed was to get back to Haven and find a coordinator stabilisator and build it into the gadget.
Artemis saw what his son was holding and made a grimace. They were back in their time, and here he again had to face the lack of his genius more than he had to in the Hun camp. He could say they were back to reality, and he was again facing the same problems he had had before leaving for the past.
Feeling his father's glance on himself, and especially on the transporter in his hand, Patrick spoke up just to turn Artemis's attention to something else: "You know, the only thing I feel sorry about is that we never got to see Attila's funeral. You told me what history books wrote about it, Dad, and it must've been grand. Wish I could've seen it…"
"In all honesty, I'm not a bit sorry to have missed the funeral," his father replied darkly. "I very much dislike funerals. There's nothing fun about them, no matter how spectacular they are. The only thing that I am sorry about is that we never had a chance to say good-bye to Prince Csaba. He must be thinking we escaped or something… In polite circles it is required to say good-bye and thank-you to whomever helped you. He's done a lot for us, after all."
"Yeah, he did…" Patrick nodded. "But at least we could properly say good-bye and thank-you to Fiona. I've grown fond of her, a lot…"
A small smile appeared on the Irishman's face. "Me too. She reminds me a lot of your mother. Or the other way around."
Before anyone could accuse him of going sentimental, Artemis switched on his laptop to look at his emails. After all, he had chosen this particular hotel because it had WIFI in every room – there weren't many other hotels like that, especially not in Szeged.
"Well, this is interesting," he spoke up after a few minutes.
"What?" Mulch and Patrick asked in unison.
"Listen to this: Dear Mr Fowl, It has been brought to my knowledge that you've left for Hungary. I trust you have some invaluable information that guides you on your search after the grave. Therefore, I am willing to give you three more days to find it. After all, what good would it do to either of us if I happened to hurt your little wife and didn't even get the information I need? You find the grave and give me the coordinates, I release your precious wife, and both of us will be satisfied. I am going to contact you on the 19th July. Sincerely, The Kidnapper."
"So we have another three days," Mulch sighed contentedly. "We have the coordinates, and we can sit back and do nothing for three whole days. Does this hotel have a wellness centre?"
"Didn't you say you wanted to go back to Opal and eat chocolate truffles as soon as possible?" Artemis asked with a lopsided grin.
"Yeah, I did, but I bet we could get chocolate truffles even here if we asked for them. And eating them while a pretty girl is massaging my back is just as good as eating them with Opal in bed. Not to mention that I can get Opal in bed whenever I want, while I can't get a nice backrub as often as I'd like to."
"Dad…?"
"Yes, Patrick?"
"If we have three more days, then it means we don't have to hurry back to Ireland, so…"
"What are you getting at, Son?"
"I'd like to see the funeral."
"No way."
"You wouldn't need to come," Patrick said. "I can go alone. And I'll be back before you can say LEPRecon."
Artemis studied his son's face to see true eagerness and interest on it. And well, what could it harm anyone to let the boy have a bit of fun – even if that bit of fun was attending a funeral?
"I'm not sure about this, Patrick," he said. "Apparently we were supposed to go back in time to persuade Fiona to marry your great-grandpa, but this one would be a futile journey… something that we don't need to do… something that we aren't supposed to do. Do you understand why I mean?"
"I do, Dad. You're afraid that this journey might change something – something that isn't supposed to be changed. But don't worry, I'll take the camfoil, and no one will see me, so I couldn't change anything."
"You don't even know where the grave was dug," Artemis said, hopeful that Patrick would be dissuaded at last.
"But Fiona does. I could ask her to take me there," the boy insisted.
Artemis heaved a sigh. "I think I'm going to regret this…"
Patrick's face brightened. "May I go then?"
"You may. But I will accompany you. I'm not letting you travel in time alone in your condition."
"I'll go too," Mulch said. "It isn't every day that you get to see a king's funeral… Don't look at me like that, I promise not to steal anything…"
Artemis and Patrick exchanged an amused look, not seeing that Mulch's fingers were crossed behind his back.
"Right," Artemis said. "All the three of us go, but only tomorrow morning. I badly need a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed, not to mention that I need to soak in the bathtub for at least an hour to get all the filth that I gathered in the Hun camp off myself."
"That means if we leave tomorrow morning, say, at ten o'clock, then we can only come back to 16th July, one second after ten, right?" Patrick asked.
"Exactly." Artemis nodded. "At least that's how this time machine works. There can't be two of you at the same time at the same place…"
"Are you absolutely sure this theory is right, Dad?" the boy wondered.
"To be honest, I'm not a hundred percent sure. Before I lost my genius, I was sure, but now I'm not clever enough to rethink my earlier theories and find their faults – if there were any faults."
"I'm pretty sure it's possible to build a time-machine that transports you back and forth in time in a way to make it possible for you to have two versions of yourself at the same time at the same place," Patrick said seriously. "I'll meditate on it, and tell you if I find the solution to this problem. But first I want to get my transporter ready."
"Do so, Son." Artemis shrugged. He couldn't have cared less if his son found a way to enable someone to have two or more versions of themselves at the same time and place. He doubted it could be accomplished, anyway.
o o o O O O o o o
The forest near Attila's camp, 20th April, 453
"Are you sure the funeral is today, Arty?" Mulch asked, munching on a few pieces of crystallised cantaloupe he had brought on the journey from the hotel.
"I am." Artemis nodded. "Fiona and I saw the grave-digging on the 17th and she said that the funeral would be in three days because Csaba decided to have a three-day-long burial-feast in memory of his father. Hun tradition. Remember that scarred Hun we first met? That was one of the Hun warriors who gave each other serious injuries in a fight in Attila's memory. Another Hun tradition."
"Lovely," Patrick said dryly. "Let's put the camfoil on us then, shall we?"
o o o O O O o o o
Artemis led the way across the woods to the place where he and the fairy girl had seen the thousands of slaves diverting river Tisza's course.
It took them about three hours to get there, and due to Patrick's weakness they had to stop several times to rest a bit.
Once they got out of the woods, they found themselves on the edge of what looked like a place that had recently been flooded. The bed of Tisza was empty, but the ground was still soggy and littered with half-dried reed-grass. It must have been difficult to dig a grave into such soggy soil, but the slaves had succeeded: in the middle of the riverbed was a large and deep, rectangular dent.
Artemis, Patrick and Mulch crouched down behind a bush to observe the scenery from there, as it was close enough to see everything they wanted to see, but far enough for the Huns not to notice their presence. After all, not even camfoil gave someone total invisibility, it just helped them to blend in…
For hours they waited for something to happen, but the riverbed remained deserted.
"I'm starting to feel worried," Artemis said. "Not a soul's here. Is it possible that the funeral's postponed?"
"Dunno," Mulch said. "I'll go and investigate, okay?"
"What do you mean by investigating?" the Irishman demanded, worried that the dwarf might get them into trouble.
"I'll eat my way to the village and see what's up there, then return here. You know I can reach there and back much quicker underground…"
Artemis seemed contemplative for a few seconds. He didn't like the idea of Mulch leaving, but staying here without any information was just as bad. "All right, but try and keep out of trouble."
"Don't worry about me, Arty!" With that, Mulch dived into the soil.
Barely had the dwarf's legs disappeared into the ground when someone tapped Artemis on the back.
Blood frozen in his veins, he turned around, fearing to see a vicious Hun warrior pointing a lance at him. But it was only Fiona.
"May I ask what you three are doing here?" She asked with her arms akimbo.
"Do you see us? Through the foil?" Patrick gasped.
"No. I heard you," she replied. "Someones have been whispering to each other about a possibly postponed funeral and I assumed that the bush couldn't have a voice, let alone three voices that sound a lot like certain Artemis, Patrick and Mulch. You're lucky that it was me who found you here and not a Hun."
"We thought the Huns wouldn't want to watch the funeral from such distance," Artemis replied.
"Very likely they wouldn't, but you can't be careful enough," she said. "Is this camouflage foil big enough for me to join you under it? I can't shield with my magic gone."
"I thought you'd replenish it as soon as possible," Patrick commented.
"I will, but only after the funeral. The nearest oaks are a four-day walk away, and I didn't have that much time," Fiona explained as she slipped under the foil.
"So the funeral is today," Patrick said, relieved.
"Yes, it is," the fairy sighed. "The mourners should be here soon with the triple coffin…"
Sensing the sadness emanating from her, Artemis reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder.
"No, it's okay, Artemis," she whispered. "I've come to terms with it. He died and cannot come back… I've accepted it. I just wanted to be here when he was laid to eternal rest."
"How many of the Huns will be here?"
"Not many. Only the archers, a few noblemen and Prince Csaba, as far as I know. Perhaps even Seer of Stars. By the way, how come you returned?"
"Ah, just Patrick… he was too curious to see the funeral," Artemis said, feeling rather awkward.
"Understandable," Fiona answered. "I too am curious to see it."
"Oh… All right, then," Artemis murmured. He had thought she wouldn't understand Patrick and would be mad at them for coming here to see the funeral like they would go to see a football match (not that Artemis would ever go to see a football match, and not that Fiona actually knew what football was…)
About an hour passed, and Mulch still did not return. Artemis was getting impatient when finally something caught his ears.
"The mourners," Fiona said.
In five minutes Artemis could make out the words that were mostly cries such as 'We're saying good-bye to you, Attila!'
Soon the procession appeared. In the front walked hundreds of archers, followed by a carriage that was being hauled by twenty-four stallions. On the carriage lay the triple coffin, that from the outside looked bronze only, as the silver and golden coffins were hidden inside. Behind the carriage walked the kings of subjugated nations and several Hun noblemen. The five thousand slaves who had dug the grave brought up the rear.
The procession stopped by the grave, and an old Hun in the fine clothes of a nobleman stepped forward to Prince Csaba.
"Csaba," he said, "Let me lead the slaves. I am old enough, this is my last wish."
The prince reached out and squeezed the old man's hand. "So be it."
"What is he talking about?" Patrick whispered to Fiona.
"The slaves will be killed so that they wouldn't be able to tell anyone where Attila's resting. That old man – I'm sure you recognised him – is Seer of Stars. He volunteered to lead the slaves to the place where the archers will shoot them."
"But then… he'll die too, won't he?" Artemis breathed.
"He will." The fairy nodded. "That's why he emphasised that he's old already. He's lived long eno-"
She couldn't finish her sentence, because in the next instant a little figure ran towards them with a horrified expression. He was being followed by several Huns, who happened to be shooting arrows after him.
"Oh great," Artemis groaned. "He got himself into trouble."
"Come," Fiona said, her voice sounding very commander-like all of a sudden. "Into the forest! Before they notice us too!"
The three of them left the bush they had been hiding behind and hurried into the nearby woods. Mulch must have noticed at least one of their ankles poking out from under the cam foil, as he changed his course and hurried after them. Since the trio under the foil were running carefully to keep the foil on themselves, they couldn't run fast enough, and Mulch quickly caught up with them.
"What… the heck… was that… about?" Artemis panted.
"Sorry, Arty… I… ate something that didn't… allow me to tunnel… my way back to you, so I… had to run… and those Huns… noticed me, and… Oops!"
Mulch, in his effort to recount the story, accidentally trod on the hem of the cam foil that immediately fell off Artemis, Patrick and Fiona.
The Huns behind them let out a vicious holler that probably meant 'Hah! Today's a lucky day, three more to kill!'
The blood again froze in Artemis's veins as Patrick stumbled and collapsed. The boy wasn't supposed to be running in his present condition, and suddenly all his strength left him. Artemis dropped to his knees next to his son to scoop him up, and even Mulch doubled back to see if he could help, but before they could have done anything, Patrick's hand dived into his shirt and fished out a tiny object. "Hold onto me. All three of you," he gasped.
"What?"
"Just… do… it!" the boy snapped as another few arrows shot past them. Their pursuers were a mere forty meters behind, they would reach them in about ten seconds…
Artemis, Fiona and Mulch obliged. After all, Patrick was the genius in the family.
Another arrow swooped towards them just as the boy pressed a key on the tiny object in his hand.
The next instant Artemis had a feeling similar to the one he had when being transported through time, only a little different.
It felt like only a few seconds before the funny feeling stopped and the four of them landed on grass.
Gasping for breath, they looked around: there were no Huns. None at all. They were on a meadow, with barely any trees around.
"What have you done?" Mulch rasped.
"Used my transporter," Patrick muttered, sitting up.
"But it's not even completed!" Artemis snapped. "It could have… splinched us!"
"It was worth a try, wasn't it?" The boy smiled. "It saved our lives. Now all we have to do is find out where we are…"
Suddenly, there was a groan. Artemis, his son and the dwarf looked in Fiona's direction.
The fairy was lying on her stomach, an arrow sticking out of her back. Apparently it had reached her a millisecond before the transporter had whisked them away from the forest.
"Fiona!" The three of them breathed and gathered around her.
They barely saw anything of her face, but the small portion they saw of it revealed that she was in great pain. "I'm… following… you… Attila…" she mumbled.
"No…" Artemis gasped and grasped her hand, but it was already limp.
She'd died.
And next to him, Patrick began to fade. "What…?" He released the dead fairy's hand to grab his son's, but his fingers grasped thin air. "No! PATRICK!"
The boy had disappeared as though he'd never been there. For a minute Artemis stared at the spot where his son had been sitting. His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth hang open. He simply couldn't fathom it. Or could he?
Something felt strangely different in him. And not only the fact that he'd just seen his only son fade into nothingness… it was his brains.
He felt clever again.
A genius.
And that genius knew exactly what happened.
"He… died?" Mulch whispered, just as shocked as Artemis himself.
"No," the Irishman replied heavily. "He was never even born."
o o o O O O o o o
A/N: this was possibly the longest chapter I've ever written. So please, be so kind and reward my work with a review!
Also, just letting you know that I opened a forum on ffnet – if you want to discuss GENERAL aspects of my fanfics, you may do it there (but review you should here, not in the forum!;)