Two left feet,’ muttered Holly, grabbing her least favourite Mud Boy by the collar. Momentum swung Artemis forward, slamming him into the door like something out of a cartoon.
The piton cord was slapping against the carriage. Only seconds left before Holly departed from the train as quickly as she’d arrived. The LEP captain searched for a strongpoint to anchor herself. Root and Butler’s weight may have been reduced by the Moonbelt, but the jerk when it came, would be more than sufficient to drag her from the locomotive. And if that happened, it was all over.
Holly hooked one arm through a rung on the carriage’s external ladder.
She noticed magical sparks playing over a rip in her suit. They were counteracting the radiation damage. How much longer could her magic last under these conditions? Constant healing really took it out of a girl. She needed to complete the power-restoring Ritual. And the sooner the better.
Holly was about to unclip the cable and attach it to one of the rungs when it snapped taut, pulling Holly’s legs from beneath her. She held on to the rung grimly, fingernails digging into her own skin. On reflection, this plan needed a bit of work. Time seemed to stretch, elastic as the cord and, for a moment, Holly thought her elbow would pop right out of its socket. Then the ice gave and Root and Butler were twanged out of their icy tomb like a bolt from a crossbow.
Seconds later, they slapped against the side of the train, their reduced weight keeping them aloft, for now. But it was only a matter of time before what little gravity they had pushed them under the steel wheels.
Artemis latched on to the rung beside her. ‘What can I do?’
She nodded at a shoulder pocket. ‘In there. A small vial. Take it out.’
Artemis ripped open theVelcro flap, pulling out a tiny spray bottle. ‘OK. Got it.’
‘Good. It’s up to you now, Fowl. Up and over.’
Artemis’s mouth dropped open. ‘Up and. .?’
‘Yes. It’s our only hope. We have to get this door open to reel in Butler and the commander.There’s a bend in the track two klicks away. If this train slows down even one revolution, they’re gone.’
Artemis nodded. ‘The vial?’
‘Acid. For the lock. The mechanism’s on the inside. Cover your face and squeeze. Give it the whole tube. Don’t get any on you.’
It was a long conversation under the circumstances. Especially since every second was vital. Artemis did not waste another one on goodbyes.
He dragged himself to the next rung, keeping the length of his body pressed close to the carriage. The wind was whipping along the length of the train, tiny motes of ice in every gust. They stung like bees. Nevertheless,
Artemis pulled off his gloves with chattering teeth. Better frostbite than being crushed beneath the wheels.
Upwards. One rung at a time, until his head poked above the carriage.
Every shred of shelter was now gone. The air pounded his forehead, forcing itself down his throat. Artemis squinted through the blizzard, along the carriage’s roof. There! In the centre. A skylight. Across a desert of steel, blasted smooth as glass by the elements. Not a handhold within five metres.
The strength of a rhino would be of no use here, Artemis decided. At last an opportunity to use his brain. Kinetics and momentum. Simple enough, in theory.
Keeping to the front rim of the carriage, Artemis inched on to the roof.The wind wormed beneath his legs, raising them five centimetres from the deck, threatening to float him off the train.
Artemis curled his fingers around the rim. These were not gripping fingers. Artemis hadn’t gripped anything bigger than his mobile phone in several months. If you wanted someone to type Paradise Lost in under twenty minutes, then Artemis was your man. But as for hanging on to carriage roofs in a blizzard. Dead loss. Which, fortunately, was all part of the plan.
A millisecond before his finger joints parted company, Artemis let go.
The slipstream shot him straight through the skylight’s metal housing.
Perfect, he would have grunted, had there been a cubic centimetre of air in his lungs. But even if he had said it, the wind would have snatched away any words before his own ears heard them. He had moments now before the wind dug its fingers beneath his torso, flipping him on to the icy steppes.
Cannon fodder for the goblins.
Artemis fumbled the acid vial from his pocket, snapping the top between his teeth. A fleck of the acid flew past his eye. No time to worry about that now. No time for anything.
The skylight was secured by a thick padlock. Artemis dribbled two drops into the keyhole. All he could spare. It would have to be enough.
The effect was immediate. The acid ate through the metal like lava through ice. Fairy technology. Best under the world.
The padlock pinged open, exposing the hatch to the wind’s power. It flipped upwards and Artemis tumbled through on to a pallet of barrels. Not exactly the picture of a gallant rescuer.
The train’s motion shook him from the cargo. Artemis landed face up, gazing at the triple-triangled symbol for radiation stamped on the side of each container. At least the barrels were sealed, though rust seemed to have taken hold on quite a few.
Artemis rolled across the slatted floor, clambering to his knees alongside the door. Was Captain Short still anchored there, or was he alone now? For the first time in his life. Truly alone.
‘Fowl! Open the door, you pasty-faced Mud Weasel!’
Ah well. Not alone then.
Covering his face with a forearm, Artemis drenched the carriage’s triple bolt with fairy acid. The steel lock melted instantly, dripping to the floor like a stream of mercury. Artemis dragged the sliding door back.
Holly was hanging on grimly, her face steaming where radiation was eating through the gel.
Artemis grabbed her waistband. ‘On three?’
Holly nodded. No more energy for speech.
Artemis flexed his digits. Fingers, don’t fail me now. If he ever got out of this, he would buy one of those ridiculous home gymnasiums advertised on the shopping channels.
‘One.’
The bend was coming. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. The train would slow down or derail itself.
‘Two.’
Captain Short’s strength was almost spent. The wind rippled her frame like a windsock.
‘Three!’
Artemis pulled with all the strength in his thin arms. Holly closed her eyes and let go, unable to believe she was trusting her life to this Mud Boy.
Artemis knew a little something about physics. He timed his count to take advantage of swing, momentum and the train’s own forward motion. But nature always throws something into the mix that can’t be anticipated. In this case the something was a slight gap between two sections of the track. Not enough to derail a locomotive, but certainly enough to cause a bump.
This bump sent the carriage door crashing into its frame like a five-tonne guillotine. But it looked like Holly had made it. Artemis couldn’t really tell because she had crashed into him, sending them both careering into the wooden siding. She seemed to be intact, from what he could see. At least her head was still attached to her neck, which was good. But she did seem to be unconscious. Probably trauma.
Artemis knew that he was going to pass out too. He could tell by the darkness eating at the corners of his vision, like some malignant computer virus. He slipped sideways, landing on Holly’s chest.
This had more severe repercussions than you might think. Because
Holly was unconscious, her magic was on autopilot. And unsupervised magic flows like electricity. Artemis’s face made contact with the fairy’s left hand, diverting the flow of blue sparks. And while this was good for him, it was most definitely bad for her. Because although Artemis didn’t know it, Holly needed every spark of magic she could muster — not all of her had made it inside the train.
Commander Root had just activated his piton cord winch when he received a most unexpected poke in the eye.
