Artemis Fowl: Chapters 7–8

On remand for numerous larcenies: Mulch Diggums, the kleptomaniac dwarf.

Mulch had a prodigious appetite for tunneling, and that, unfortunately, is a literal translation.

At present, Mulch was languishing in a stone-walled cell in LEP Central. At least, he was trying to project an image of a languishing, unperturbed kind of dwarf.

The goblin laughed. “So what? Can’t be any harder than your dwarf skull.”
His cronies laughed.

Smoke was leaking from every orifice in his head.

Flameproof goblins may be, but the errant fireball had given his tubes a good scouring.

“If it was up to me, I’d put the whole lot of you in a big room, and come back a week later to sluice it out. But Commander Root wants to see you aboveground ASAP.”

He stood watching life proceed at an exaggerated rate outside the shimmering corona.

“Mulch, you little reprobate,” roared Root.

Mulch followed a loamy vein through a volcanic fold in the rock.

Rabbits. The dwarf fixed the location in his internal compass. Always useful to know where the local wildlife hung out. He skirted the warren, following the manor foundations around in a long northwesterly loop.

Mulch stepped onto a parquet corridor.

But something was niggling at him. If this guy was so clever, why did he put the safe behind a painting?

Mulch held his breath and twisted the dial, one cog at a time. To the normal ear, even with amplification, the clicks would have seemed uniform. But to Mulch, each cog had a distinctive signature and when a ratchet caught, it was so loud as to be deafening.

The constrained wind had built itself up to mini-cyclone intensity and could not be constrained.

Suddenly the thing exploded, jettisoning an amazing amount of tunnel waste directly at the unfortunate manservant.

If you see that man again, tell him to lay off the red meat. He’s just a coronary waiting to happen.

The dwarf buttoned his back flap, which had been blasted open by the gale emanating from his nether regions.

Had it still occupied that space, the impact would have separated it from Butler’s shoulders. An ignoble end for a bodyguard of his caliber.

By the time his vision had settled, the dwarf had disappeared into a maelstrom of churning muck.

But, united by excitement, the professors were not so easily intimidated. Cumulus even had the temerity to wave Root’s sarcasm aside.

“It’s elementary grammar. The human specifically stated that entry was forbidden as long as he was alive. That’s tantamount to an invitation when he’s dead.”

I want that gold ready when Cudgeon’s plan goes awry.

Sneak around shielded, reclaim some fairy weaponry, then cause havoc until Fowl was forced to release her. And if several million Irish pounds’ worth of property damage happened to ensue, well, that was just a bonus.

“Quiet,” hissed Holly, worried by the tone of Foaly’s usually flippant voice.

For once in his life, Artemis realized that he didn’t have a snappy answer. He opened his mouth, waiting for his brain to supply the customary pithy comeback.

In this particular tale, he serves only one purpose. And that is to melodramatically push the detonate button. Which he does, with great aplomb.

When the dust settled, the handlers winched back the containment wall inside the cage and began hammering the side panels with the flats of their hands.

Juliet was sprawled on the cot, enraptured by a concrete wall.

Then you could say that the doorway exploded. But that particular verb doesn’t do the action justice. Rather, it shattered into infinitesimal pieces.

Possibly simian. Similar upper body structure to an ape, but bigger than any primate Butler had ever seen.

Tusks too, but not elephantine. These were curved, with serrated edges. Gutting weapons.

The troll shambled forward, squinting through the chandelier light.

The manservant peeked out between the chain-mail fingers of a gauntlet.

She skimmed the banisters, emerging into the portico below a stained-glass dome.

Amazingly, the human wasn’t dead. A dogged pulse forced the blood through smashed limbs.

He knew immediately that he was alive, because of the searing pain permeating every cubic centimeter of his body.

Butler planted his foot just above the creature’s haunches and tugged the weapon free.

As far as the troll was concerned, his territory was being encroached on.

Banter! The human was trying to engage a troll in macho repartee!