Ch. I: A Lesser Adversary
Fr. Michael looked at Cath in concern. She was glaring with undisguised hatred at her five month old sister. Every line of the teenaged girl's body was tense, as if ready to leap up and do the child some mischief. "Catherine? What is it?" he asked her tentatively, studying her in an attempt to anticipate her next action. She tore her gaze away from the slumbering infant.
"It's all her fault." Cath asserted through clenched teeth. Her eyes still glittered with malice as she looked the priest in the face. He was startled and dismayed by her response. How she could harbor such deep spite for a child not yet half a year old, he did not pretend to approach knowing. She murmured something else under her breath, which he couldn't quite hear.
"What is all her fault-" he began when the lights suddenly went out. He leapt to his feet immediately, concerned for Ms. McArthur's safety. Little Anna gave a sudden wail that was cut short as it reached its apex. Alarmed, he called, "Cath?" He heard a snigger that was remarkably inhuman and whipped his head around, catching a glimpse of a dark shape ducking out of sight from the corner of his eye.
"I'm here!" she responded. There was an edge of fear to her voice, laced with excitement. For some reason, Fr. Michael felt a sense of deep foreboding in the pit of his stomach. Praying without words, he stumbled as quickly as he could over to the rickety playpen where Anna lay. Just before he reached it, there was a fretful gurgle. He froze. It was a sound that instilled a primal fear of the dark that pressed him like a live thing within his soul. With a tremor in his hands and heart, he reached to pull back the ragged blanket. Cath he could hear, stumbling her way over to him. With a quick motion, he threw back the blanket from the child's form. Cath reached his side as he did. He gasped in horror, there was nothing under them. The teenager gave a small cry and hissed, "Yes!" There was a rattle at the large window in the wall to their left.
Fr. Michael gaped at the barn owl which beat its wings against the glass. In his mind it was larger than life, somehow taking on greater significance than any other such bird. He heard Cath's sharp inhalation beside him. Suddenly, impossibly, the window flew up, and a gale whipped into the room. The priest was dealt a stinging smack by one of the heavy drapes, which were whipping about like lace curtains in a breeze. He raised his hands to fend the frantically lashing cloth off.
"You're... You're him! It's really you!" he heard Cath say in a voice of awe. The wind had died to a light breeze. He dropped his arms and was stunned by what he saw. There, lounging on the windowsill, was a man so strange he must be a dream. He was lithe and feral, with a cruel half-smile on his long, thin face. The breeze played with long, jagged blonde hair and billowed a diaphanous black cloak in the direction of the two mortals. The priest knew, with inexplicable certainty, that he was not human in any way.
"You're the Goblin King!" Cath breathed. Fr. Michael glanced at her sharply. He wasn't sure he liked the gleam in the girl's eye. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, either, but the man in the window exuded an air of danger. And Cath seemed entranced by him. "Jareth." she added.
The intruder's amused gaze became sharp. "And would you like to beg the wished-away child back again, as well?" He inquired. His tone was languid, but a knife-edge was hidden beneath it. Fr. Michael sensed that there was something important going on here, but what it was he had no notion. And there was one concern that was foremost in his mind.
"Where is Anna?" he demanded. The pair looked at him as if they had completely forgotten his existence. Cath seemed annoyed by the intrusion of real life in the person of the parish priest. The Goblin King, if such he was, looked at Michael with eyes that glittered with cold amusement. Then he turned back to Cath, extending a hand to her. Light coalesced before Michael's astonished eyes into the shape of a small crystal.
"A gift," he stated, intent on Cath. The glowing orb was reflected in her wide eyes. She reached for it, anticipation etched on her features.
"My dreams," she whispered softly. Her fingertips almost touched the bright thing. Fr. Michael observed something dark in the core of it.
"Catherine Veronica McArthur!" he rapped out suddenly. The teenager started and stared at the normally mild priest, whose face blazed with anger in the strange illumination of the bauble. The King looked at Michael with a bitter twist to his thin mouth. The priest ignored him. "Catherine, where is your sister?" he demanded. There was a snicker from the creatures he had glimpsed. The girl didn't answer, looking sullenly at the ground.
"She's there," the stranger answered instead, pointing out the window, "In my castle." Michael, temporarily distracted from the teenager, gazed disbelieving where the gloved hand indicated. Where there should have been wet night, trees, and buildings, there had appeared a sprawl of walls, crowned by a far distant castle. The wind picked up again. Smirking, the King turned back to Cath.
"Catherine," he purred, "You don't wish that troublesome brat about anymore, do you? I can keep it in my castle forever, where you'll never have to think of it again. As a goblin, she'll never trouble your precious mind again. A girl with dreams like yours is far too special to bother over some squalling little baby." His voice was soft, persuasive. Cath did not take much persuading. He offered her the crystal again.
"Yes," she hissed, a defiant gleam in her eyes. Michael looked about him.
"Cath, yeh canna let him keep yehr sister!" he pleaded desperately, his Irish accent coming out as it often did under stress. She didn't look at him. It was as if her world had narrowed to the "gift" in the Goblin King's hand.
"Why not? After all, they are my dreams." she murmured as if in answer. Her eyes glowed feverishly as she reached for the crystal. Her hand closed around it, and she disappeared.
The Goblin King turned to Fr. Michael in annoyance. With pressed lips and narrowed eyes, he told him, "That should have gotten rid of you, as well." Fr. Michael merely looked at him. The King sighed. "What claim do you have to the child?" he demanded. The bitter twist was back.
"I baptized her." the priest said. He was not sure how this might constitute a claim on Anna. The twist became a scowl. All trace of amusement vanished from the mismatched eyes, now there was only overwhelming hostility. The King swore.
"The power of names," he murmured to himself, looking towards the ground. He redoubled the power of his glare at Fr. Michael. "Fine. I acknowledge your right to run the Labyrinth. You have-" he gestured at the clock behind him, which hadn't been there before- "Thirteen hours to find your way to the centre of my Labyrinth and reclaim the babe. Past that, the child is mine forever."
"It's only a great maze," Fr. Michael murmured, studying what he could see of the Labyrinth. The Goblin King laughed aloud at this statement.
"Yes," he mocked, "A great maze. A goblin maze. Are you sure you still want to look for the child?"
"I have faith that God will not abandon her." the priest stated confidently. The King chuckled at that. He began to fade into thin air.
"Remember," his voice echoed," You have thirteen hours." The last things to fade were his eyes and his laugh. Fr. Michael did not wait to see what might happen next, he went downhill toward the Labyrinth at a trot.
A creature was shambling about at the base at the base of the blank wall, holding a large, old-fashioned sprayer. As the priest neared, he could hear it muttering despondently. Squirting a small, winged thing, he sighed, "98." Michael slowed down warily.
"Excuse me," he said from a cautious distance, "But can you direct me to the door?" The creature didn't look around.
"What door? 99." it said grouchily.
"The door to the Labyrinth." Michael clarified.
"What do yeh want wit it?" squirt.
"Well, I want to get inside, of course!" the priest said.
"Insoide where?"
"Do you always dodge questions like this?" Michael demanded, exasperated. The gardener turned his leathery head to look at the young man in disdain.
"Not if you asks the right questions." he said snobbishly. It had plainly taken a dislike to him. Fr. Michael closed his eyes and sent up a prayer for patience.
"Can you tell me," he said slowly, "How to get into the Labyrinth?" The gardener sneered at him.
"Well, now," he said, "Was that so difficult? Yeh gets in-" he pointed to a part of the wall which now had two huge doors in it- "There." He enunciated this last word oddly, and the doors rumbled open.
"Thank you." Michael said stiffly, setting off towards the gate at a brisk pace. The dwarf had to trot to keep on his heels. The priest hesitated a moment on the threshold. A thick white mist rolled out towards him, as if trying to pull him in. The thought of Anna made him step through the door, and the mist dispersed.
"So, you, uh, really going in, are you?" the dwarf asked with a sort of forced casualness. He met Fr. Michael's curious glance with a sidelong look of his own. Michael looked left and right, down the eternal, grim corridor. He took a steadying breath.
"I have to. Anna is part of, I canna leave her here." He was saying this to himself as much as to the leathery form next to him. The gardener made a face and shrugged.
"Well, I s'pose you've got yer reasons. But I oughtta warn you," he continued, "Jareth's beefed up the security, like, since the las' time anyone made it. It's a lot more dangerous than it was before. Even the goblins have... evolved... a bit. The notion seemed to unnerve the little man a bit. Then he shrugged a bit. Then he shrugged again. "Not my problem. The Labyrinth ain't really my buisiness no more. Just the gate." He shambled back outside the maze. With a gesture, he slammed the doors shut behind him.
Fr. Michael stood for a moment, considering. Finally he muttered, "In a place like this, it can only be left." He began walking quickly in that direction, stepping over broken branches and trying to avoid looking the fungus growing on the walls in the eye. He figured this Jareth creature wouldn't give him a minute more than he actually needed to solve the Labyrinth with luck. It was better to get to the centre with barely a moment to spare than to fall down from exhaustion after half an hour of running.
He came to the first opening after about ten minutes of walking. After a moment, he stepped through the gap, and darkness closed around him.
