Traitor's Luck
Prologue
By Northstar
Prologue
"Well, is the spy in place?" a feminine voice asked, sultry and sweet at the same time.
"All is in readiness. I trust that you are fullfilling your part of the plan? Does he suspect anything?" a sibilant male voice countered, the harshness of stone underlying the cultured politeness.
In response, a light laughter rang out from the female figure, but instead of the usual melodic chiming, it was as the sound of shattering glass. "The foolish mage is wrapped around my little finger. He suspects nothing."
"Excellent. Then let's set events in motion. By the end of the month, the king shall fall," the cultured voice continued. The feminine figure began to laugh again, but this time it was the shriek of a banshee.
"Long live the king!"
The barren wasteland spread out before him, desolation broken only by a ruined fortress every now and then. As the dry, scorching wind tore at his cloak's hood, the man shielded his eyes. Somewhere out there lay a gate to the realm where her soul had been imprisoned. All he needed to do was survive long enough to rescue it and the return to his kingdom.
Reaching down, a gloved hand caressed the golden hilt of the longsword that had been a gift from his advisor. It seemed as if only yesterday that things had been fine, yet now he bitterly wished he had taken full notice of all the warning signs that had been present. His mind flashed back to the beginning of all the trouble...
"...And how many times will you blow up the lab in order to prove a point?" Royal Magical Advisor Galadrea Solardin asked, expasperation tinging her light, elvish voice. Across the banquet table, Jareth, King of the Goblins, speared his advisor with a dangerous glare.
"Until I get the results I need," he replied, his usually cultured voice getting an edge of annoyance. It wasn't like he had taken out the entire castle, anyway. And besides, it was his castle, not hers!
Rolling her eyes, the beautiful half-elf lifted her napkin and wiped her mouth. "Oh Jareth, why do you need it anyway? I mean, really? You have a full compliment of spells that allow you to give people false memories and make them forget certain things. Why is a time-control spell so needful to you?"
With a clink, Jareth speared the roast meat on his plate, the fork going straight through and hitting the fine crystal plate. "I wouldn't have to play around with people's minds if I had a time-altering spell, don't you get it?"
An innocent look crossed her pretty face. "But I thought you LIKED playing with peoples' minds!" she exclaimed, astonishment almost, but not quite, covering the mocking tone underlying her reply.
With a vicious oath describing Galadrea's parentage, the king of the goblins threw down his silverware and left the table, his riding boots making an angry clicking noise as he stalked out of the dining hall. Galadrea merely looked after him, and as he left, turned to one of the nearby goblins innocently.
"What did I say?"
His cloak billowing out behind him like an angry stormcloud, Jareth stalked through the palace in a blind rage. Damn her, why does she always have to have the last word?! he asked of no one in particular. Wrenching open a finely-carved wooden door, the king strode out into the exotic garden that had become his sanctuary in the past five years.
Lifting his handsome, angular face to the sky, he relished the silence as a soft, gentle night breeze caressed his face, slightly teasing the strands of hair that had worked themselves loose from his ponytail. Times like these, he wished Gala hadn't taken him up on his offer. He hadn't had this much frustration since that nasty incident with the priest and that damnable holy symbol that had ended up with him banished...
...the tide of battle swept around the priests that had dared to challenge his stronghold. Yet, something was wrong. He had held dominion over the land for over 200 years. The Von Zaroviches had always been worthy foes, but the priests had never posed any threat. Which was why he had allowed them to exist. Now, for some reason, his minions had started to decrease in power.
The King turned away from the castle window and strode down numerous staircases to the entrance hall. Summoning the powers at his command, he cloaked himself in invisibity and awaited the priests. Time to put an end to those presumptuous fools...
...the past faded and Jareth found himself back in the lush garden. Grimacing, he remembered clearly what had followed. The priests had gained a powerful artifact from their god, called the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind. He had nearly been destroyed in that encounter. Instead, he had struck a bargain, and ended up banished to the Underground.
Shaking his head, he ran his nimble, dexterous fingers through his hair, bring it back under control. Sighing, he turned around and softly strode back into the castle.
"What are you thinking about, love?" a delicate voice asked, as slender limbs wrapped themselves around the young mage's waist. Startled, Indros turned around and gazed down into the face of his pretty companion.
"I was just thinking about my sister, Galadrea again. It's been so long since she left the tower, and I haven't heard anything from her. I just wondered how she was doing, if she was okay," he replied, his soft voice filled with gentle concern and wonder.
The young invoker's mouth turned downwards in an expression of sorrow. Tilting her face up, Natela Vandree brushed her ebony lips across the young Solardin's. With a deep sigh, Indros relaxed, returning the kiss and capturing the slender drow elf in his strong arms.
Gradually, after some time, both surfaced for air. Natela shook her mane of silver and smiled reassuringly. "If you are so worried, why don't we open a gate and go check on her?" her lyrical voice suggested. Indros appeared to consider it, though the cunning drow knew he had already decided what to do. Still, he was so attractive when his clear brow furrowed in deep thought. Throughout the entire valley, Indros Solardin was considered quite a catch, for both elf and human female alike. Yet, he never took time away from his studies to pursue romance.
At least, not until the renegade drow sorceress had come to the valley, seeking refuge from her murderous kindred. A follower of both Eilistrae and Mystra, the faye and exotic Natela had been able to capture Indros's attention. Perhaps because she too was a mage and understood the lifestyle he lived...
As a blazing fire roared in the hearth, Galadrea considered her earlier words to Jareth. She hadn't meant to cut him like that, but her mouth had a mind of its own. Frowning in concentrating as she searched the orange and red flames for guidance, she reflected on her behavior the past few months.
Things had been going well, with Jareth making so much progress in the magical arts that he had easily become the equal in magical power to what he had once been before studying the Art. Yet, these past few months had been an almost never-ending string of taunts, quarells, and one-upping. It was as if she had reverted back to the young, cocky diviner she had been when she first confronted Jareth, the Goblin King.
A delicate, soft smile curved her generous lips. Those had been magical days, when she and her little brother had both been students in the Tower of Illumination. Now, her first adventure through the magical Labyrinth seemed like a sweet dream, a time when she had been strong, invulnerable, and superior, and Jareth had been so intimidating and powerful and seductive...
Shaking her head, Galadrea pushed those traitorous little thoughts from her mind. A rueful grin changed her appearance from serious to impish. Okay, so her King was handsome, yet he had had his chance all those years ago, when Jareth had been trapped on Toril. If he hadn't noticed her then, then he probably wouldn't. She owed him so much...
The gentle rustling of her samite robe was all that could be heard as she abandoned the warmth of the fire and went in search of Jareth. Gala didn't have to walk far, the object of her secret affections was approaching from the far end of the corridor.
Jareth looked up, startled and not quite pleased to see his advisor. The calm he had recovered began to melt away as a cold, polite smile curved his thin lips.
"Well, what is it now, my lady? I have work to attend to," he said, anger in his voice. Expecting a snappy comeback, Jareth blinked his mismatched eyes when her reply came.
"Jareth, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice holding a strange emotion that the king had heard only on certain occasions. Quickly, Jareth searched her face for any signs of mocking and found none. The anger that had disturbed his calm drained out of him. There was something in her dark blue eyes that disturbed him. "I had no call to say what I did. I, well-- I haven't been myself lately."
Bowing her head, the mage stepped to the side to let her king pass. For a minute, Jareth was struck by her appearance. He hadn't noticed it before, but she was nearly as tall as he. Why haven't I noticed this before? he wondered silently, gazing at Galadrea as if seeing her for the first time. Mentally, he compared the woman who stood beside him to the young diviner who had solved his labyrinth and aided him in his quest for magic.
The platinum hair had turned pure silver, and the face had become more angular, more careworn. Lines of worry webbed her beautiful eyes, which had once been a vibrant, crystal blue that pierced the heart, now deepened to a color approaching the sky at midnight. She now moved with a grace and poise that spoke of great power and experience, no longer the cocky stride of a young girl. The changes were not exactly soothing to him.
"Neither have I," he returned softly, his voice full of questions. Reaching out a black-gloved hand, he gently turned her face so that they met each other's eyes again. "Pretty one, what's wrong?" he asked gently.
With a ragged sigh, Galadrea backed up and dashed away the tears that had appeared in her eyes. "It-it's nothing, Jareth. I just miss my brother, that's all. I haven't seen him for such a long time, you know," she said, forcing her voice to lighten up. Jareth wasn't fooled for one minute.
"Why haven't you told me? I would have gladly gone and fetched him for you!" he spoke, putting false shock into his voice. "If you desire to see your brother again, I shall bring him here."
Galadrea smiled, her heart lightening for a moment, as excitement at seeing her brother again swept her despair away. For a brief minute, her eyes seemed to become clear and bright again. "Thank you Jareth!" she said brightly, cheer lacing her voice.
Clearing his throat, Jareth turned towards the fire. "Well, since we are expecting visitors for the party tommorrow,, I guess we should turn in, hmmm?" he said, as he began to head for his rooms. Behind him, Galadrea's bright grin faded to a sad smile. Slowly, she made her way back to her chambers as well.
Outside, a storm broke over the castle. Far below, in the courtyard, a small hooded figure gazed up at the castle with hatred in his heart, and a desire for revenge coursing through veins that he had always claimed held the blood of a coward.
Almost 100 and ten years had passed since her appearance in the labyrinth, and now she was back again, but this time in a new form, bereft of memories and trusting her old tormentor. The thought twisted around his heart and brought a gleam of hatred into his eyes. He must be careful, however. The time for vengence would come soon.