A/N: Among my poems and songs, I ran into a Labyrinth version of a Christmas carol I had written in '96 or '97. This story began blossoming in my mind shortly after the rediscovery. This is one of the first stories I began writing after nearly two decades. Author notes have been revised as of November 2017.
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Disclaimer: All things Labyrinth are not mine.
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Snowflakes drifted gently down from a slate grey sky, swirling in feather light whorls behind horse and rider as they passed. Tall pines and stately firs stood sentry along the trail, their evergreen boughs heavy in pristine white cloaks. Despite the dreary looking sky, the forest was filled with a quiet serenity, the muffled silence broken only by the sound of steady hoofbeats and the occasional whump as a tree shed its mantle of snow.
Sarah smiled, turning her face up to the soft flakes falling from the sky, the fur trimmed hood of her cloak sliding back over the dark cascade of her hair as she relished the feel of their frigid kisses on her flushed cheeks. She breathed deeply of the dark, piney scent of the forest, rosy lips parting as she exhaled, her warm breath billowing in a ghostly haze before vanishing into the frosty air. She loved winter. Something about the season filled her with a sense of wonder and delight. Winter, she had decided long ago, was true magic. Shrouding everything in a veil of virginal white, it whispered of hope and promised of new beginnings. Slumbering beneath a glittering blanket of snow, the very land itself dreamed.
Sarah straightened on the back of her horse, drawing her hood up around her face, lost in her musings. For all its frigid, crystalline beauty, winter also harbored its own dark secrets, an underlying edge of cruelty that lay in wait for the unsuspecting. Mercurial by its very nature, the duality of the season was not lost on her. Take nothing for granted, she thought. Magnificent and fierce, alluring and ruthless, the season offered as much as it demanded. Two sides of the same coin. Winter reminded her of him.
The gait of her horse shifted, bringing her out of her thoughtful reverie. Somewhere overhead a weak sun had penetrated the pale grey cloud cover, its watery, golden rays slipping over the sleepy forest in a gentle caress. Up ahead, the trees thinned out, signifying an end to her late morning ride. She leaned forward, pressing her knees into the warm flesh of her mount, urging him into a slightly faster pace. She was eager to reach the cabin that lay nestled in the little valley between the mountain and the trees. However, as they topped the small rise past the tree line that signaled the end of the trail, Sarah reigned her mount to a standstill, inhaling sharply.
Backed against the side of the mountain, her diminutive log cabin, flanked by its small woodshed and unpretentious barn, stood in sharp relief against its backdrop of densely wooded pine trees. The snowfall had ceased in the moments after the sun made an appearance, and the new fallen snow that graced the gentle inclines and dips between the cabin and herself gleamed and sparkled. From where she sat on the back of her silver dappled gelding, her little cabin appeared to be wreathed in a golden halo of light, a dazzling display that momentarily blinded her. The scene was breathtaking, and she took a moment to savor the image.
Yes, winter is true magic, she thought with delight, and suddenly laughed aloud, the sound falling around her in hushed lilts. Her mount stamped a feathered hoof and swiveled his ears in reproach. She patted the horse on his neck, a smile on her lips as she urged him forward.
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Sarah led the silver dappled horse alongside the old corral, her cloak swishing around her booted feet as she walked. She stopped briefly to open the barn door wide before leading the gelding inside, then closed it behind them to keep the winter chill at bay. The meager sun slanted through old paned windows, chasing grey shadows up the walls as it illuminated the earthen floor in subdued rays of pale light. Glints of gold winked from a small haystack in the corner of the barn where the barest hint of sun glimmered as it stretched among the shadows. She smiled, a story of a girl who could spin straw into gold tugging at her memory. Sarah shook her head at herself as she tethered the gelding to a ring mounted on the outside of his stall.
In spite of everything, she still loved fairytales. She may have matured in the years since she had wished her little brother away, but the subsequent journey to win him back, and the knowledge that real magic existed would never leave her. She knew that even when she was old and grey, she would still feel the hum of its caress in her heart; would still feel the wonder of dancing in the arms of a magical King; and would always, always, remember the awe-inspiring trepidation she had felt when she first set eyes on the Labyrinth itself. That wasn't to say the King himself didn't inspire a little fear as well, but the truth was, she'd spent many a long night over the years contemplating him. "Things are not always what they seem in this place," the friendly little worm had told her. She'd often wondered just how far that sentiment extended.
The gelding nickered at her, and Sarah realized she'd been standing still for some moments, lost in her thoughts again. Goodness, this whole day was going to waste away if she kept this up. With an apologetic glance to the horse, she removed her riding cloak and gave it a light shake before hanging it on a nearby peg, fingering the thick material fondly. Trimmed in the soft browns and greys of plush rabbit fur, the dark green outer surface had the slick, fuzzy feel of fine wool while beneath it was lined and insulated in warm fleece. Probably not the most practical thing to wear in the snow, but it was warm, and gave her a sense of impish glee as she relived some of her childhood dreams.
It had been an early Christmas gift from her father and stepmother. She suspected it was, in part, due to their decision to visit Karen's family that Christmas for an impromptu family reunion at her parent's home in Vermont. Karen's three siblings had somehow managed to get the time off, and it was the first time they would all be together with their families since Toby had turned two. Although Sarah had been welcome to go, she found relations with Karen's side of the family to be a bit tedious; more so now that she was no longer a child. She had been honest when she told her family she was quite all right with their decision to go this year, but they seemed to feel a bit distressed at her easy refusal to attend and assumed the fault lay with them.
"Please come, Sarah," a stricken fourteen-year-old Toby had pleaded with her. "I won't know anybody there."
"Oh, Toby, you'll be fine," she'd responded, enveloping him in a warm hug. Although a teenager now, he was still very much a little boy when he was around her, unafraid to drop the brave façade he showed to the world—even his own mother. She loved that he trusted her with his insecurities; it spoke of the deep affection they had developed for each other. "All your cousins will be there, and I know at least two of the boys are around your age."
"But I want you there, Sarah. We always spend Christmas together. Please come…for me?" He had turned those devastatingly blue eyes on her in his best puppy dog impersonation, his blond hair just long enough to give him a slightly rakish appearance. He was already turning heads at school as the soft flesh of boyhood began giving way to the leaner features of adolescence. At present, he hovered on the cusp of both. She'd nearly given in to his endearing display, but then she shook her head, placing a hand on each of his shoulders.
"Remember our story?" she had asked him, and he'd nodded slowly. "Think of this as your first great adventure. It's time you started to face some challenges of your own, too."
"Maybe, but you had goblins and magic," he had grumbled morosely. "Nothing compares to goblins and magic." His petulant tone made her smile. She had always been straightforward and honest with him, and that included sharing with him the folly she'd committed in their past. The only proof she had was a single crystal that had lain in his crib with him when they returned. It would only flicker to life in his hands. Nothing spectacular, just a swirling of shimmering mists that used to keep him calm when he was little.
"Christmas is magic, too, Toby, and just maybe all your little cousins are your goblins-but remember, no matter how irritating they might be, under no circumstances do you wish anyone away," she had admonished him sternly.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember," he said, twisting out of her hands, but she'd caught his chin, forcing him to meet her clear, green gaze.
"Words have power, Toby, especially for you and me. We've been touched by another world, and it's not always friendly. Please understand that while this makes us unique, it can also be very dangerous. Always think things through, and don't ever take anything for granted, ok?"
He'd given her a fierce hug. "I love you, Sarah."
She'd returned the embrace with equal fervor. "I love you, too, Tobes, and don't worry, everything will be fine. It's a part of growing up, you'll see. Some challenges we have to face alone, that's just how it's done."
He'd given her a dubious shrug before giving her a halfhearted smile that plainly said he still wished she would go. She'd given him a gentle shove toward his room to pack.
Besides, she'd told herself, there was something about this Christmas that felt different to her. She couldn't explain it, and while she would miss the little traditions she and Toby had developed since he was small, she was more than happy to have the time to herself to think things through. Deciding she must have reached one of those turning points in her life that she often heard older people reminisce over, she had opted to spend the holiday in their parent's mountain retreat. After getting the truck packed, the trailer hitched, and her horse loaded, she'd barely paused a moment in her excitement to be on her way.
She gave the cloak one last, loving stroke and turned to pick up the brushes she used to groom the gelding. She murmured quiet words to him as she began brushing his neck, slowly working her way over his body. Her horse was a bright point in her life. She had taken to horses when a friend in high school had asked her to go riding one day. Having never been near a horse, Sarah reluctantly agreed. To her delight, the freedom she felt on the back of a horse was nothing short of exhilarating, and she spent the summer taking riding lessons from her friend. A few years later, an ad in the paper for a four-year-old shire gelding caught her eye.
"A draft horse, Sarah, really?" her friend, Cheyenne, had been anything but excited for her.
"Just wait until you see him, Chey. He's gorgeous and gentle, has the most exquisite manners, and is just positively irresistible. The moment I set eyes on him, I knew he was the one for me." Sarah's voice had dripped with honeyed tones until her friend cringed. Swooning theatrics had accompanied her statement, complete with the back of her hand pressed against her forehead. She had peeked at her friend from the corner of her eye to gauge the effect.
Cheyenne had eyed her with a sour look. "No wonder you've never found a man to catch your fancy. Your standards aren't high, they're just plain unconventional."
Sarah had frowned at her, "What do you mean by that?"
"Meaning, my dear friend, that your tastes tend to be attracted to the extraordinary or unusual, maybe even a hint of the fantastical and exotic, and finely peppered with a sprinkle of compassion and affection for the underdogs. You really are quite eccentric."
A frequent attendee of renaissance festivals and SCA events in her surrounding area, Sarah had never quite let go of her adolescent fantasies. She'd chosen instead to find more creative outlets in which to exercise her amusements. In addition, she was also an active participant in the local theater club, finding particular delight in trying out for parts she felt would suit her natural capabilities. Beyond that, she had taken to sewing and art as favorite pastimes, and when she wasn't creating masterpieces in one form or another, she was riding. Her interests varied far and wide, the subjects of which weren't the kind of interests that most ordinary people considered normal. She indulged her fantasies, but she was practical about them. People were genuinely surprised at just how very down to earth she was. She supposed eccentric was probably putting it lightly.
Still, Sarah pretended to ponder her friend for a moment before replying "Have you met me?" This followed by dipping down in a grand curtsy that was marred by faded blue jeans, boots, and a tattered blue flannel over a black tank top. "Who needs a man anyway? Horses don't judge your interests or try to tell you how you should live your life."
Cheyenne had just shrugged at her before giving her a wry grin. "Sarah Williams, you have to be the most peculiar person I've ever met."
"But you love me anyway," Sarah had quipped. "Now get in the truck. I have a date with destiny."
That had been four years ago. Sarah chuckled to herself, rubbing a soft cloth down the center of the horse's face. Removing the bridle, she hung it up on a peg next to her cloak. The silver gelding stood patiently, watching her with soft brown eyes that seemed to speak of an uncanny intelligence.
"We've never regretted a single moment, have we, Sir Percival?" She murmured to the horse as she ran the cloth down his nose. Percival raised his muzzle, his warm breath fanning over her face before dropping to search her pockets for a treat. She gave him a loving scratch behind the ears, laughing as he became more persistent, the scent of apple-flavored sugar cubes making him bolder as he gently nipped at her jeans.
"Fine, fine, Mr. Impatient. Your manners are decidedly lacking today, but it's Christmas eve, so I'll give you one now, but you won't get another until we're done." She held a small cube in the center of her hand. Percival gently took it from her, his velveteen lips brushing softly against her palm. Patting his cheek, she began brushing the thick white mane that fell in wild tangles to his chest, humming a few Christmas carols to herself as she eventually worked her way to his tail and the feathers on his feet. When she was finished, she stood up and stretched, tossing the brush to the nearby shelf as she stepped back to admire the huge horse. Sensing his grooming session was over, Percival lowered his head and gave his body a light shake. This was followed by looking over his shoulder at her, his thick feathery forelock falling over his eyes as he regarded the woman expectantly. She gave him a faint smile.
"Well, never let it be said that horses don't remember promises, hmm?" The gelding snorted in response as she moved to open the stall door while simultaneously holding out the last sugar cube. He deftly plucked the cube from her palm as he walked through the door. She closed it behind him and then leaned on it, loathe to leave his company just yet.
She was just about to turn and grab her cloak when a ripple of light shimmered brightly through the windows, followed by the soft, resounding echo of a single, musical chime, as if she were hearing it from a great distance. Yet the sound reverberated through her body, as if a gong had been struck at close range, raising goosebumps along her arms and neck as she shivered in response to the sudden flare of warmth that blossomed through her senses like wildfire. Percival stamped his hooves and shook his head, then pricked his ears forward in the direction of the old corral, voicing a low whinny in response to the low, eerie scream of an owl.
Sarah's heart beat in double-time as she stood rooted to the floor. She wasn't sure if she was feeling sudden fear or wild anticipation, and as she gazed toward the sun-kissed windows, she realized that what she saw dancing in the rays of light weren't motes of dust. It was glitter.
Magic was in the air.
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"The first hour of Christmas, the goblins gave to me…"
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Chapter posted 12/21/16