opening up that hadn't been used by humans for millennia. He also realized that humans must have had their own magic once, but had forgotten how to use it.
Ready? asked Qwan, but not aloud. They were sharing consciousness now, as they had been in the tunnel. But this was a clearer experience, like digital compared to radio waves.
Ready, replied the others, thought waves overlapping in a kind of mental harmony. But there was disharmony too, and struggle.
It's not enough, thought Qwan. I can't seal the hemisphere. I need more from Abbot.
The others pushed as hard as they could, but none of them had any more magic to give. Abbot would kill them all in his sleep.
Hello? Who's there? said a new voice, which was something you don't expect in a closed magic circle, even if it is your first one.
Along with the voice came a series of memories. Great battles, betrayal and a plunge into a fiery volcano.
Qweffor? said Qwan. Is that you, boy?
Qwan? Can it be you? Are you trapped here too?
Qweffor. The apprentice hauled into the volcano by Abbot back on
Earth. Qwan instantly understood what must have happened.
No. We're in the magic circle once more. I need your power. Now!
Oh gods, Master Qwan. It's been so long. You wouldn't believe what this demon eats.
Power, Qweffor! Now! We can talk at the other end.
Oh, OK. Sorry. Nice to hear a warlock's thoughts again. After so long, I thought –
Power!
Sorry. On the way.
Moments later a strong pulse of power hummed through the circle. The magical hemisphere sealed, becoming a solid shield of light. Qwan redirected a small chunk of magic down to encircle the bomb itself. A high- pitched whistle emanated from the little golden sphere.
High C, thought Artemis absently.
Focus! admonished Qwan. Take us to your time.
Artemis focused on the important things he had left behind, and realized that they were all people. Mother, Father, Butler, Foaly and Mulch.
Possessions that he had believed important, now meant nothing. Except maybe his collection of Impressionist art.
Leave out the art, Artemis, warned Holly. Or we'll end up in the twentieth century.
Nineteenth, replied Artemis. But I take your point.
It may seem that all this bickering was a waste of valuable time, but it took place instantaneously. A million multi-sensory messages were exchanged along magical pathways, which made fibre-optic cables look about as efficient as two cans and a piece of string. Memories, opinions and secrets were laid bare for all to see.
Interesting, noted Artemis. If I could recreate this, I could revolutionize the communications business.
You were a statue? said Qweffor. Am I reading this right?
At the circle's centre, the bomb's timer was clicking towards zero. In a single second, the timer swept through the final hour on the clock.
When the timer hit zero, a charge was sent to various detonators, including three dummies, to a block of plastic explosive the size of a small television set.
Here it comes, sent Qwan.
The bomb exploded, transforming the casing from a metal box into a million supersonic darts. The inner shield stopped the darts dead, but absorbed their kinetic energy, adding it to the outer shield.
I saw that, thought Artemis, impressed. Very clever.
And he had seen it somehow. Some kind of lateral vision that allowed everyone to view events at their own pace, and from whatever point of view they preferred. It also allowed his mind to concentrate fully on his home time, while also appreciating the spectacle. Artemis decided to move his third eye outside the circle. Whatever happened to this island was certain to be pretty spectacular.
The explosion released the power of an electrical storm into a space the size of a four-man tent. Everything inside the space should have been vaporized but the flame and shock waves were contained by the small golden sphere. They roiled about in there, punching through in several places. Wherever this happened, the errant force was attracted to the blue rings of power and stuck to them like flashes of cloud-to-ground lightning.
Artemis watched some of these flashes shoot straight through his body and out the other side. But he was not injured; on the contrary, he felt energized, stronger.
Qwan's spell is keeping me safe, he thought. It's simple physics — energy cannot be destroyed, so he's converting it to another form: magic.
It was a spectacular sight. The bomb's energy fuelled the magic inside the circle, until the rolling orange flames were tamed by blue ones.
Gradually the bomb's power was consumed and transformed by sorcery.
The rings glowed with a blinding blue light, and the figures inside the circle seemed to be composed from pure power. They shimmered insubstantially as the reverse time spell took hold of them.
Suddenly the blue rings pulsed, injecting a shock wave of magic into the island itself. Transparency spread like water on the surface and below.
Pulse followed pulse until the transparency spread beyond the crater. To the demons in their village, it must have seemed like the volcano was being eaten by the magic. The nothingness spread with each pulse, leaving only shimmering golden sparks where solid land was moments before.
The dematerialization reached the shore, and beyond to the ten metres of ocean carried here with the island. Soon, there was nothing left but the circle of magic, floating blue in the red rippled space of Limbo.
Qwan reached out to them.
Concentrate now. Artemis and Holly, take us home.
Artemis squeezed Holly's hand tightly. This was as close as they could ever be. Their minds were one.
Artemis turned and stared at his friend with blue eyes. Holly was staring back, and she was smiling.
'I remember,' she said aloud. 'You saved me.'
Artemis smiled back. 'It never happened,' he said.
And then their minds and bodies were split right down to subatomic level and whisked across galaxies and millennia.
Space and time did not have any recognizable form. It was not like flying in a balloon over a timeline and saying, 'Look, there's the twenty-first century. Take us down there.'
Everything was impressions and feelings. Artemis had to shut out the desires of the hundreds of demons around him and concentrate on his own internal compass. His mind would feel a longing for its own natural time, and he would just have to follow it.
The longing felt vaguely like a light warming his mind when he turned in its direction.
Good, thought Qwan. Head towards the light.
Is that a joke? Artemis asked.
No, replied Qwan. I don't make jokes when there are hundreds of lives in the balance.
Good policy, thought Artemis, and turned towards the light.
Holly was concentrating on where to land the island. She was finding this incredibly easy. She had always treasured her above-ground memories, and now could call them up with amazing clarity. She remembered a school tour to the site where Hybras had been. In her mind's eye, she could see the undulating beach, gold and shining in the summer sunlight. She could see the blue-grey glint on a dolphin's back as it breached the waves to greet its fairy visitors. She could see the silver-flecked blackness of the water in what humans called Saint
George's Channel. The light of all these memories warmed her face.
Good, sent Qwan. Move. .
I know. Move towards the light.
Artemis was trying to put this experience into words, for his diary. But he was finding it difficult — a novel experience for him.
