*An entry for fuckyeahlabyrinth on tumblr and their 2011 fiction contest.*
The night calls for our fears and desires to speak to us, singing from the forests by our homes and riding on the breeze into our bedrooms. An early autumn evening ended, and a college student named Sarah found herself out of bed, gazing from her window. Cicadas cried nonsensically, chased from their trees by a foreign movement. The girl saw this and was intrigued but drowsy.
Her fingers rapped on the windowsill in an attempt to slowly awaken her tired muscles. She hadn't slept well for almost a week, her eyes blinking themselves into focus to take in the light from outside. Wait. Light?
Alone in her ground floor apartment, she strained her neck forward to more clearly view the spectacle. In the trees danced a glow, absurdly white then dimming as it neared her building. It moved with the motions of a sad ghost, drifting with only a hint of purpose and bobbing every so often. Sarah pulled her face back slightly from the glass, remembering she was indeed awake and becoming mildly startled. Resonance from the insects dispersed quickly and silenced the outdoors. The light source drained further, dropping lower to the ground and rising in small leaps as if struggling to stay afloat in the static air. At the corner of her window it stopped, clinking gently against the pane and resting there while its glow diminished.
Sarah's chest ticked uncomfortably, spreading her heartbeat into her head and fingertips. It was evident that she had a guest, and was not without ideas as to who it may be. It was, after all, a familiar crystal. To ignore it would be unnatural, she thought, a disregard for human inquisition. Or, at least, it would risk losing a chance at... Her head felt fuzzy with blurred judgement, succumbing to a vague dream that perhaps her friends from another realm were waiting for her so very close by; strange friends from the edge of her childhood with whom she had bonded over the strangest quest. There was no pretence of this never happening, and yet it seemed unreal and idyllic, embodying a time in her life which grew to be hopeful. Her hope was resurfacing rapidly, hope of the mysterious, of the magical and unknown and...
Clink.
The orb tapped a reminder on the glass. Before her sensibility had fully awoken, it was in her hand and she was gently re-closing the window. She moved aside her papers and books and sat on the edge of her bed, crossing her feet one on top of the other. The sphere seemed empty as it lay against her palm, tainting the skin with the cold from outside. Her assumption that it belonged to a distant land was fading. In her drowsiness it seemed almost like a prank, like the dead object had been enchanted to taunt her and resurface notions of escapism. Her life was ordinary. Enjoyable but regular. She held the crystal for a while longer, holding it up to the lampshade and back down to face the floor. Its surface was clouded now, as if collecting condensation on the inside. Had she not been alone, she might have placed it back outside and returned to bed. She might have let herself think it was a dream and closed her curtains fully to stave off curiosity.
However, she was alone, and within the tenth minute of holding it, the orb cleared and an image appeared within. Her grip tightened on its smooth surface for fear of dropping it, concentrating on the features that looked out at her with wearily blinking eyes.
"Sarah," it said plainly, not a chime of emotion ringing out through the glass. She looked behind herself, scanning the room briefly as if under surveillance. Her speech was inhibited by a web-like sensation in her throat, perhaps a safety mechanism to stop her spilling out the first thoughts from her mind. She swallowed a few times but found herself coughing to regain breath. The figure in the glass looked away briefly then resumed its stare in her direction. "I hope you're listening."
She inhaled heavily and nodded, catching her eyes in the contrasting gaze of the Goblin King. From memory he seemed not to have changed, his face as serious and unimpressed as that of the most typical storybook villain. She almost laughed. "I am," she replied too boldly, unable to downplay her adrenaline rush, glancing round and bringing her tone down to match the secretive nature of the situation, "I'm... listening."
He was soberingly unamused, his voice now strained as if conversing at length with the senile. "I am loathed to spring this reunion upon you unannounced, but needs must at this particular time. Being the only human to have prior knowledge of the Underground kingdom's... existence, I fear, or rather I know, that you are the only one who can help."
His speech raised in her a peculiar whim of impatience. She could not be sure yet that this was reality, and perhaps there was fun to be had in this potential dream. Her eyes narrowed at him and a nostalgic pang squeezed at her ribs, waiting for his speech to end and for her friends to emerge for some kind of elated congregation. In the corner her clock ticked solidly, heightening her sense of urgency and proving difficult to ignore. In an instant his expression changed to one of disappointment, his lips closing simultaneously with his eyelids. Sarah listened to his last sentence again in her head... the only one who can help.
"Sarah," he reiterated, "the harsh truth is that the kingdom is in peril, and the horrifying extent of the situation means it is near-irreparable. Perhaps I am of no consequence to you, but I know there exist friends of your's in this realm. Consider their fate, I urge you, when listening to my request. There is not much time..."
"They're in danger? Now? Then what do you want me..."
His answer arrived amid her question and she struggled to hear. "Jareth? I can't..." Either her vision or the room itself was growing faint, lines blurring and solids collapsing as she pulled herself up and staggered across the room, grabbing wildly for a coat and dropping the crystal. Her body made contact with the ground, its texture harsh and bristled. Her hair had been swept across her face haphazardly and as she removed its tangles from her vision, she realized what had taken place.
Still alone, save for the crystal, in front of her was a wasteland of familiar shapes. Walls and hills creating a labyrinthine structure in the distance, ringed with rivers she'd never seen before. Their waters rose and fell unnaturally, like staggered breath from the mouths of creatures half-dead. There was something very wrong.
Sarah looked around on the ground, its charred surface of decaying grass slivers pricking her palms until she located the sphere and held it once more. Jareth looked as if he'd been waiting for some time. "Do you see?" he asked with something of a sigh. Sarah found the deja vu of his tone jolting and uncomfortable. Her knees stiffened as she rose from the dirt, neglecting to dust off her clothes, staring upwards at the sky of hideous auburn shades.
"What happened?"
"Sarah this isn't the time for long-winded explanations. Do you know anything of Hades or do you not?"
"I, I remember learning about Roman beliefs in high school, wasn't he..."
"Greek. Greek, Sarah. Now listen, if you will," his impatience betrayed concern in his words, "I need you to do but one thing, one simple task that will enable your friends here to be safe. What's done is done, but I implore you to heed my words. As you see before you, the realm of the Underworld has spilled into Underground, for they share a dimension wall not unlike that between this place and your own world. The Underworld holds souls, Sarah, it is the place of eternal damnation and suffering and is where death flourishes in its most grotesque form. There was a tear in the dimension wall, a rift placed by Hades himself, and the morbid rivers are spilling out and rapidly spreading mutation and infestation. The souls of the damned are feasting on the bodies and spirits of Underground. Our dead are rising; our powers are draining. Do you see now why we need your help?"
The air was indeed stagnant and hot, languishing in her mouth as she breathed it in. It tasted of copper, and she fought the urge to spit it back on the ground. Below where she held the orb, her hand felt clammy. She observed Jareth's expectant face grow tired and was not wholly convinced.
"How do I know I can believe this?" The words trickled out half-consciously from her lips, not even sure of her own doubt, "How do I know that this is Underground at all? It's shadowed and ugly, not at all how I... remember."
The Goblin King frowned for a moment, looking at the stone wall just visible behind him and fixing his eyes on something Sarah could not see. He continued as if he hadn't heard her, "The inhabitants are dying unjustly, their memories drained by the parasitic souls that use them as hosts; souls which escaped from the rivers and pools of Hades. They're all here: Styx, Phlegethon, Acheron, Cocytus, and Lethe. The latter is the one I need you to visit. Sarah, this is of highest importance. I trust that in the five years since our first encounter you haven't lost your sense of justice?"
Her head moved in the slightest of shaking motions, enough to answer his albeit rhetorical question. "Hades is the source of this destruction and the only way to restore normalcy is to target the lord of the Underworld himself. I've provided you with everything you need; you must go to the spilled pool of Lethe, collect a flask of its water, and bring it to me on the far side of the labyrinth where its memory-erasing properties can be used against Hades to stop this madness." There was desperation in his voice, hidden under the formal manner in which he delivered his speech. Sarah looked out over the land, feeling the ground strangely cold through her socks. She was far from dressed for the occasion, and pulled at the hem of her pyjama shirt to release the muggy heat from around her waist.
"If I accept this... do I get to return home? Will I save my friends, Hoggle and Ludo and the others?"
"Yes, indeed you can go home once this is done, but this plague has gone on for days, and although your friends are still out there and you may save them, I cannot guarantee their current state. I have arranged for Hoggle to meet you at the pool, where he will take you on the final leg of your journey to me. I confess you cannot go home until this is over, so please hurry, there is an incantation waiting to send you home and I have guides to take you on the safest route..."
"Why can't you do it this? By yourself?" Her fear for the creatures she loved was weighing down her composure and raising her voice an octave above its normal state, "Jareth?"
His image was gone before she finished the last syllable. Moisture hung around her eyes and her feet felt rather frostbitten. If her friends were really waiting somewhere in the horror then she knew she must be quick. Her mind was awash with questions and panics held down by the little scraps of self-control she could barely manage to conjure. The mewling sound of bird-like animals soared briefly by, ominous like the wails of a ghost. Sarah collected herself with some difficulty, wishing to hug her duvet close and awaken to a fresh laundry load or something equally boring and heavenly. After the orb disappeared, she reached down behind herself in the hope of finding she'd brought her jacket, but jerked backwards when her face met with the torso of someone standing too close. She retreated a few paces and let out an unconvincing "Hey" after her audible gasp.
The figures appeared human, all three of them strangely ethereal with washed out skin and amused expressions unfitting the chaos around them. They were not wholly attractive, one not at all, standing on the heels of their feet aimlessly kicking the dirt and grass blades. One yawned. Sarah straightened her back and tried to appear more serious than her greeting had implied. "Hello, uh, I'm Sarah Williams."
"We know, indeed we know everything. Maybe you should be quiet until we reach our destination."
At home Sarah might have challenged a sentence like this, but her feet were placed on dangerous ground and she held back from confrontation. The 'person' to her right smiled like a shark and extended his or her hand. She could not yet tell their genders.
"We are of Jareth's race, in case that escaped your notice," the creature said softly in a tone only slightly mocking as it took Sarah's hand forcibly and shook it, "But do not let that fool you, we are very much deceased. Dead for quite some centuries, so do not worry. We make up what is left of the Necromancer Society. Do you wish to know what that is?"
"Of course she does, but let us introduce ourselves," interrupted the voice to Sarah's left. "For your purposes I am Six, that was Seven, and in front of you is Eight." The highest numbered creature made a gesture similar to a bow before blinking its eyes off to the sky to stare at nothing. They were grey eyes that matched its skin and clothes, similar to the garments worn by the Goblin King but aeons more subtle. The numbers seemed at odds with one another.
Six enthused now, "We are so glad to see a new face, my dear you are but excellently beautiful. You would make an good Necromancer..." They had started to walk, Sarah's hand still grasped in Six's from their handshake, leading her along like a child at its parent's side. Her questions fought in her head for rights of speech, legs moving mechanically in step with her new acquaintances.
"So, does that mean there are others like you and the Goblin King? Does he have a... people?" She felt uncomfortable in the creature's grip but feared insulting her only guides. Eight laughed.
"No. No no no. We are dead, remember? We're all dead, everyone who was like us, all except his Royal Pathetic Highness. Jareth hasn't perished like the rest of us because of his choices, ridiculous though they may be, they've kept him alive. Who would choose ruling goblins over death?"
"Poor choice. Horrific choice. Ugh, he is unbearable. Why do you ask?"
Sarah tripped on a root, noticing that they were entering the cover of moulding shrubbery and small trees. She glanced behind them, seeing the empty hillside dark and lonesome. Her coat wasn't back there as she'd hoped, and the ground was no longer dry; it smelled of old sea-weed and mashed gently underfoot. Brown and green liquid seeped in through her socks. "I assumed he had a lineage or family of some kind, that's all. Fairy tales have to start somewhere I guess." She was barely listening to her own words, instead repeating Jareth's over and over to mentally solidify her task. The numbered beings increased their pace, Seven scanning around purposefully whilst Eight looked angrily at its feet. Six squeezed Sarah's hand tighter and encouraged her to walk quickly.
"You know, "began Seven abruptly, "I think this area is deserted. I didn't see anything undead for the entire journey here, indicating that the forest ahead is either an impenetrable bog or that they caught all the souls they could handle for now. Any thoughts?"
"Not so sure. Heard sounds on hill. Cries, falcons maybe? Souls? Not sure at all."
"It's so sad. I wish they would roam free and not fear each other. Did you notice how the possessed elves fled from those fairies yesterday? I think they're getting worse, though fairies have always been brilliantly violent... when this whole thing blows over, everything will be in such harmony. I can feel it."
"I concur, the Underworld order has worked so efficiently since the beginning, I so wish Underground becomes just as peaceful."
Though Sarah's interest in their conversation grew, her legs were having trouble co-ordinating with each other in the midst of her concentration. They became unsteady and she was forced to slow her pace, inviting a plethora of complaints.
"Is this how you commit to rescuing a kingdom? Who do you think you are, Miss? Miss Sarah. Miss Incompetent-At-Walking-In-The-Face-Of-Peril."
"Excuse us for helping. Do you wish to arrive three days too late? Or maybe even stay long enough to have your blood turn to vapour and rise out through your pores? This air is poisonous you know."
"Not much time, King of Goblins horrid but correct. Ungrateful human must listen."
Her head began to hurt, a small jagged feeling like hypodermic spiders crawling at speed. A lack of sleep merged with confusion was unhelpful to her current task, and though apologies sounded from her mouth, she was in no way sorry. This was not a quest she had chosen for herself, and she felt unfairly responsible. The leaves falling were autumnal colours with infected brown growths, some fluffy from early mould and hideous lichen. The smell was getting heavy in the air, clinging. Eight forced out a sigh and walked around to Sarah's other side, taking her arm and marching her forward at their preferred pace.
"I'll walk, it's okay. Let go, honestly..." Glaring eyes shot at her and a bony hand hesitated before releasing her arm. The spot where it let go was rushed with blood and cold air, and Sarah suspected she would see a vast bruise appear later.
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They walked for some time, mostly in silence, occasionally hearing a breezeless howl or formless wing flap. They were met with small darting shadows as they left the trees, the walls of the labyrinth far away to their left and covered in monochrome smog. The base of a maroon cliff flanked them on their right. Sarah hadn't notice Six release her hand some time ago, and was now fixated on the numerous red cuts on her palms.
"Did you do something to my hand?" she felt panic rising in her throat, gulping down an uneasy breath whilst staring at her injury. Rubbing her fingers over the lines stung acutely and she looked to her other palm. It was the same. "Oh," she looked up at Six whose face was plain and patient, feeling embarrassed at her accusation. When she arrived from her room she'd landed on the ground, and remembered the sharpness of its dense foliage. "What... I mean uh, is something wrong with it?" Tension hung in the atmosphere until eventually Six spoke.
"Everything is dangerous here. Everything wants to eat you, or harm you, or turn you into one of its own. You should be more careful."
"Won't die. Only scratches. Don't touch ground."
"Or the trees, unless we say you can. Best not to touch anything, really." She stared at them incredulously, concern filling her high with its frantic electricity.
"Look. Sarah, do not take our earlier complaints into your heart; we are not here to stress you but to guide you in the safest way possible. It is not safe to be slow, nor to interact excessively with the surroundings. They are diseased, did you not hear Jareth say this?"
She nodded, wondering vaguely how she came across to these apparently ancient beings. She felt small and childish in their company, young for her twenty years and very much unprepared. Was her reluctance passing for petulance to them? Was she really ungrateful?
"Miss Sarah, I believe we neglected to tell you about our society! Yes, we should do that verily, take your mind off your challenge, as it were, and indulge your imagination. I admire your freshness, you could do with new knowledge in your mind!"
Before she could reply, they had veered right and were drifting towards a gap in the rock face. Or rather, they drifted. Sarah trudged. Her socks were swiftly removed when they entered what seemed to be a cave, dank and discomforting with a different odour than the outside. To Sarah it smelled of a florist's and butcher's combined, a heady scent that pervaded her sinuses. Dew smatterings held fast to the walls and dripped only when all trace of their strength was gone.
The numbers inspected and seemed satisfied, Seven reaching into a pocket and pulling out a lidded wooden receptacle. The grain was oaken but somewhat darker, and as it was handed to Sarah her eyes widened and her cerebrum had a minute epiphany. "The flask, of course," she blurted out, failing again in her attempt to seem composed. Perhaps it mattered not what they thought of her, though, as they seemed nonetheless keen to share their story.
"Put that down, or in a pocket or something, we can tell you more about ourselves now," Six smiled in such glee that would have looked feigned on any other face. She or he had a tone of voice that invoked calm and wonder, and Sarah considered it might have genuine mood-altering qualities, like that of a sorcerer. After all, they were from the same race as Jareth.
Eight sat itself down on the stone ground, telling Sarah it was safe to rest on, and moving smoothly closer towards both Six and herself. "Necromancy, we should begin there. Communication with the dead," it explained, and Sarah was for once thankful that it assumed ignorance on her part, "When beings like ourselves take oath as Necromancers, therein begins a lifelong duty to the Underworld. You see, we often help the living speak with the dead, though usually it's the opposite. It is like a gift, this membership. What great things we encounter...the sky in Hades' realm is like the underside of your ocean. Its azures and blacks are unparalleled in any dimension near or far; only the most beautiful can appreciate it fully." It smiled a flattering grin at Sarah, evincing quiet laughs from Six who slowly turned and chuckled in Eight's face,
"Oh, indeed, because your face is the most unparalleled of them all. The way the light catches all of its... crevasses. All of its vast surfaces and cobbled features. Your luck is superb, Eight. Do enlighten us on the joys of such beauty."
Eight continued to smile with spite, the same unconvincing pull of lips that suited only Six's genuine demeanour. "I was alluding to the fine lady, if you must know. I'm sure she realizes how fortunate she is. You could lure moths to a dark abyss with those eyes, Sarah. You know, one is very nearly jealous." Its face was now very near to Sarah's, its own eyes blinking back to normal from cavernous sockets until its back leaned against the rock wall, leaving Sarah's personal space boundary in peace. It returned to its story soon after.
"In our society, Necromancers do much more than act as scribes and translators for the deceased. We are at one with decay and horror, and the lyrical drain of life from things animated. That is likely why Jareth has entrusted us as your guides, we are not susceptible to the destruction taking place forthwith. We are immune, if you will. Already dead."
Sarah's skin was cooling now, though wet from perspiration and the saturated air. She felt breathless and unhygienic, knowing she needed sleep and knowing she wanted to be clean and to eat but could not. It itched at her tangibly, causing a mild distraction. The numbers had arranged themselves elliptically around her and were musing on the benefits of having no blood. Sarah went to look at her non-existent watch, feeling drained and useless. No wind raged outside, no force swayed the landscape. It were as if it moved of its own accord, undulating forlornly, hills heaving in their fight with a terrible illness.
Seven removed itself from their conversation for a moment and spoke to Sarah, "Tomorrow may be difficult, we will be entering an area with much trouble. Would you like to sleep?"
Unnervingly she felt she was becoming a something of a patient in their care. She knew she would need them to traverse this warped version of Underground, but maybe they were becoming too used to her as a weak individual. Something about their nature made her worry that she was undeserving in their eyes. Their manner was weary but occasionally cheerful... though often condescending. The journey was so unlike her first in the Labyrinth. She had a chance to prove herself then, she had assistance for some of the way but not an overbearing presence. Her muscles felt tight and strained, coiled like non-compliant parts in a defective machine.
She wondered what her Underground friends were doing, how they were keeping alive. If they were keeping alive. The usual strength she'd find in a time like this had not yet arrived. It were as if something were holding it back, subduing her for some evil purpose. She had dreamt of returning to Underground since her last visit, not a week would pass without a fantasy scenario. The little girl from her past clung on to her insides; she wanted to feel like a protagonist, someone in a fairy story with daring exploits who saves the day and gets the girl... or man, as it were. Or as it wasn't, in her case. Not technically.
Outside, things screamed. Perhaps they were in her head but it wasn't likely. The peculiar numbered people chatted lazily at her feet, her body curled up on the stone and suddenly aware that she was still in pyjamas... but it was too late to do anything about it. Sleep came as it had not done for some time, soon and duly welcomed.
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"Sarah..." There was nothing unnerving in the voice. Calm and low, distinctive. It called to her from very near, cajoling her eyes into opening. She could still not see, a dark sapphire filled the room and her back rested against something soft. A smell like caramel lay thickly on her skin, coating it like gloss paint and feeling ultimately weird. She saw candlelight, three sticks upon which tiny flames burned into the room. It was pleasant and she felt dizzied as if from a chemical high. Hands outstretched, they rested on a warm table. Though not by themselves.
"Hello?" her voice attempted a greeting, the notes lingering in her mouth and sinking to the back where they hid behind her tongue. She willed them to move but found they would not.
"I have missed you Sarah." The same voice. Obvious to her. Clichéd. She gave her own vocal chords another try which ended in biting her inside lip foolishly. Her hands moved against another pair and settled in an interlocked position. She could hear the theme to a daytime TV show playing in the background layered over an a capella number. A man flirted with her persistently for a few minutes before she came to her senses and raised her head to look at him. Jareth. His face inhumanly intense, he was moving closer, the table between them narrowing and becoming a ridiculous oblong. Her head was still lighter than air, floating on her shoulders and changing the colour of her vision to kaleidoscopic proportions. His eyes were mismatching, blue then teal then into purples, her hands no longer on the table but by her side. His face inches from hers, he stopped.
The room around them was like Halloween, orange with pumpkins and ghouls and fancy dress, and it changed with her blinking into the castle interior. The infamous castle beyond the goblin city held their room now, and Jareth tilted his head downwards, hovering near, as he produced a gift box. Sarah smiled uncontrollably, trying to move her hands forward to accept it and finding them as stuck as her words. Her cheek was brushed by another as his words flowed steadily into her ear, foreign and unable to be deciphered. She remained still, and suddenly he was at the far end of a long table, his shape thinner and reaching out towards a person she recognised as herself. Locked in her body, the first Sarah watched as the new Sarah extended her arms to embrace the Goblin King, their bodies pressed together grotesquely whilst the first struggled with unmoving joints. The stench of sugary treacle was overpowering and sickly, and her high dissolved in it like acid. A strange lurch occurred in which she may or may not have vomited. Jareth did not mind, gently holding the new Sarah as dead butterflies fell in front of the old one, out of the sky and onto the table and her lap. Suddenly she wanted to cry, but couldn't. A choir in the room stopped. One butterfly twitched.
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She awoke at a later time, herself not sure when, having drifted into pseudo-sleep and caring not to get up until the numbers had lifted her to her feet and placed the flask around her on its new sash they had fashioned. This seemed more like a dream now, and Sarah smelled the air for traces of caramelised sugar. They were about twenty paces outside the mouth of their cave, her dream having left her despondent and partially embarrassed. She'd forgotten the weight of the damaged outdoor air, newly speckled with flakes of fallout. It was reminiscent of a war film, or more an alien war film, after the invasion and once the land had been charred and rid of life. An apocalypse.
When Eight picked up his sentence it was directed at Sarah, whose ears were only beginning to tune in, "... something may even want to grab you up like a vulture. Stay close, okay." She nodded affirmatively, feeling like her sound bubble had been violated and wanting their talking to cease, "... though if ever you feel a change of heart, we'd be happy to accommodate you."
Against her current will, Sarah let its words sink past her barrier. "What did you say?" The first words of the day fell loosely from her tongue, a welcome change from the paralysis of her dream. She sighed inwardly in relief, distracted.
"You can hold us to our word. If you decided to end your journey short, you could stay with us. If you so wish, and if that so happens."
The words made little sense to Sarah, and in confused reply her tone was angry, "What makes you think I'd abandon my friends here? They're the whole reason I'm on this journey, they are all apparently counting on me, because supposedly I'm the only one who can collect this, this memory-water from this pool in this godforsaken wasteland. Are you saying it isn't true?" her tone softened like melting ice in a furnace, "Is this all really hinging on me?"
Eight had rolled its eyes countlessly in the interval of her talking. They were nearing a swamp filled with oily liquid, splashing like the ink of a squid every so often at its edges. It spluttered and choked, adding to the white noise of struggle around them. Everything spewed and congealed, and Sarah lost what hunger she had been feeling earlier.
Seven was the first to speak up, "Jareth right. You only one able to save them. Hades' rivers caustic, making Underground life ill. Die within minutes. Not you. Also, you last longer in atmosphere. Air venomous."
"True words," began Eight, neglecting to look at Sarah as he spoke, "Even Jareth-"
"-The bastard."
"...even Jareth, Six, cannot survive long out here. His powers are likely drained already, you'll find anything alive out here cannot be for long. The Underworld is predatory. Anything from Underground will perish far faster than you; probably why Hoggeth is only meeting you part-way..."
"Hoggle. His name's..."
"Mm, alright, Hoggle. At any rate it's a shame you had to be drafted in. We knew Jareth couldn't hold his own forever. But you are free of your own will to discontinue at any point, that is what I was trying to say. Free to join the Necromancer Society. To be forever immune to the decay."
"And to him!"
Sarah pulled her brows close together, considering a polite answer to their absurd proposition, considering their motives carefully, "I came here to complete my task, for the good of those I care about. I could never leave them but... it is very kind of you to say." It was a weak retort, she knew it, but it sufficed.
Six smiled pleasantly and Eight less so. It continued as they waded through the dense air, "If your loyalty to the beautiful Jareth-"
"-Ugly. Lecherous. Virulent."
"... if that loyalty fades, we have room for you in the Underworld, hostile though it may seem to the uninitiated. We lead such fulfilling existences, Sarah. The realm is truly gorgeous in its regular state."
The ground beneath their feet was moist again, and Sarah's socks had not yet dried from the day before. She was finding their assurances off-putting, wishing they might change their topic or stop speaking altogether, She didn't want an escape route, nor to be a member in a club of the undead. She felt as if their words crept around her tauntingly, disguised in pleasant voices of gender-neutrality and reassuring adjectives. She tried not to look far ahead of them, wanting to see as little desolation as possible. "It all sounds very nice." She wondered if she sounded trite and insincere.
"Inarguably," Six agreed, having not noticed her passive slight, "Long ago we tried to persuade The Dear Goblin King to join us too, but he is such a headache."
"Ridiculous, the way he flounces around his castle, 'ruling' over the most lowly race to ever have existed. What a chore it must be, how difficult. He thinks himself so charming, it's repulsive."
"He refused our offer, offended, like we were filth tainting his empire. He hated all of the Underworld; a vendetta against Hades for claiming the evil souls in his kingdom. It broke our hearts, for he would have made a superb addition to the society."
Six articulated coldly, "But no, Jareth 'doesn't romance with the dead'."
"His words, not ours."
"Treacherous scum. Narcissist. The way he holds himself, how his eyes dissolve into your very skin; his feminine hands and languishing voice-"
"-So irksome."
Sarah listened, bemused. The air was resisting in her lungs, the carbon dioxide taking breaks in her windpipe as though tired. She forced out another breath. The epitome of androgyny were mocking someone for a stereotyped, gendered feature. It would have made her chuckle if it wasn't for the situation in her chest.
"Pay not a care to the King of Goblins, Sarah. He's outrageously hollow. Anyway, his heart is glass and stone, frozen beyond any malleable effort, mortal or otherwise."
"Certainly... frozen. " The sentence hung dead in the air; an awkward silence. Sarah couldn't remember her original question or the path of their answer. The cloud-like swirls above their heads dipped close to the tree-tops, threatening to sink into fog. Sarah lowered her gaze, noticing a shape bobbing at the edge of her vision.
Raising her voice above their quiet string of discussion, she interjected, "Hey, do you see that? There's something out there, maybe forty feet away... looks like it's alive." She peered through the falling mist, shutting her lips suddenly to avoid a mouthful of morbid confetti. Through closed teeth she managed to elaborate, "Maybe. If it is, we've got to take a look." Scanning round at the numbers she saw their faces were inexpressive. Though not directed at her, their apathy stung, it pained her chest in the cavity where her lungs would expand fully if only they could. In her young life she had not achieved incredible things, but she figured she might at least have gained a sense of human decency and compassion. An altruistic tendency wasn't high on the list of heroic traits, but it was something.
When they approached the bog, the creature in question had no visible limbs, dipping and rising horribly as if in quicksand. Something resembling a face called out in the low grumble of a bird, spitting small globules of blood-flecked liquid in several directions. Sarah pulled the neck of her pyjama top up around her face, trying to cover her nose but finding the material wouldn't reach without exposing her whole torso. The stench was near-unbearable. With one hand clasped to her face, she reached around on the ground, pulling at the grey protruding roots to break one free. Seven's whispering drawl was becoming an irritant, its lack of determiners and auxiliaries sticking to her ears like hot glue and blocking out her mental processes. Uncovering her mouth for a few moments, she grasped hold of a broken tendril and tried to haul in out of the ground. "Can't you do anything to help? If we can get it to grab hold of this, then maybe we can pull it free. I..."
"Sarah must ignore. Land Dangerous. All... zombies, as say in Above."
"Seven is right, Sarah!" Eight spat the words, feigning an enraged tone, "Do you want to get yourself killed? You cannot save everything! Don't you see, we've been more than lucky thus far not to have encountered a single being. They want to destroy! They want death and..."
At this, Six interjected with a cooler tone, silencing its companions with surprising ease, "Unless... Sarah, perhaps it is in your righteous nature to try. Here lies a life in distress, and who else is here to free it? If you so wish..." Eight spun round and shot a look of marked indignation. Six widened its eyes in a demonstrative gesture, showing its palms and jerking its head subtly towards the only human. Eight turned to Seven, who nodded after a moment.
"Mm. But of course, though we cannot offer a hand, seeing as we have no strength or useful abilities fitting the situation. But go ahead, you are right Sarah."
She ignored their inconsistency and uprooted the structure within a few minutes, falling from the backwards momentum and staggering to her feet with an air of false boldness. The numbers watched, anticipative of her next move.
Underfoot the dust stirred. The creature choked louder, eliciting a shudder from Sarah who watched as it regurgitated a brown ooze. Landing on the other side of the small bog, the mass squirmed and tore into five or six smaller shapes, all reaching with underdeveloped limbs against the dirt and mud. They inched around the perimeter, their surfaces vaporizing rapidly whilst their formless bodies made their way closer to Sarah. Backing away, she threw the branch-like root in their direction, hitting one of them and watching as it was carried off into the sky in smoke streams. The others shrieked, a wailing sound from the deep Underworld, ending in a kind of death like burnt cigarettes. Sarah wiped her hands off on her legs, trying to dispel some of the dirt. The creature from the bog was now barely visible and being gnawed upon by a tarry substance, something with teeth which appeared to have sprouted from beside it. It gurgled in its devouring. Sarah's abdomen churned in protest and she looked away.
She went to ask what had happened, but rather knew already. Everything was ravenous; she had to take precautions. She'd heard it before. Anger swelled in her face as she wondered about her Underground friends, how they were and whether or not they even still breathed as she walked shyly back to where the numbers stood. She could smell iron and copper in the air, and something sticky on her hands. The pyjama pants were smeared with orange-crimson on their upper legs and her palms bled more furiously than even the day before. Feeling unbearable idiotic, she eventually bent down and tore off the material of her trousers below the calves, feeling the stinging gain in intensity on her hands and fingers as she wrapped the cloth around them. The blood-flow was strong and consistent, and she clumsily tried to tie knots in the fabric before she might bleed half to death.
Six sighed disappointedly and took over the binding, wrapping her hands tightly as was possible and mumbling about knowing when to accept help. Its hands were slender and cold, the colour of dull winter sky. It held her's for a bit too long, then said unexpectedly, "When this is all over, Underground will be beautiful again, don't worry. I know it looks terrible now, but this is just the first stage. Teething problems, you'll see."
Sarah didn't quite know what to say, but wagered a thank you would serve her better than an argument. She remembered she hadn't torn enough cloth for a face-mask, and tried sullenly to forget about it.
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Over the cliff precipice, Hoggle breathed in the air from the meadows. It was acerbic, dewy air, not rich in oxygen but vaguely cleaner than the clouds hanging over the Goblin City three miles South-West. He raised his head towards the sky in search of the sun's light, hoping to somewhat tell the time. His blistered eyes were met with an overcast of muted purples and charcoals. Fairies scrambled in the dirt to chew on one another's delicate bones, failing to get airborne with their larvae-eaten wings and broken feet. If the phenomenon hadn't been widespread, Hoggle would perhaps have enjoyed their self-destruction, vile as they usually were. But today it was merely a scene of degradation, mirroring the whole kingdom pitifully. He, like many others, was at a loss.
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The nonhuman-led entourage of two-legged beings were edging farther out of the swamp region, encountering more dried out plains and patches of dead undergrowth. Sarah tried not to think of what might happen to her feet in the event of a sock-tear. Her hands had stopped dripping, probably a good sign, though they pulsed endlessly against their dressings.
In between the grass blades lay minuscule husks, seed pods and flecks of expired pollen all collectively forming like sand. The pieces blew to and fro among the foliage, little cinders among them dying out in the new breeze. The four travellers surveyed the vista before them, three unimpressed, one in guilt-speckled awe. Convection was lifting leaves and scattering them over the edge of the valley. Sarah was reluctant to step too close.
"I believe, m'dear, that this is where we leave you."
Six added,"Or rather, where you leave us." The comment was on the scathing end of neutral. Sarah paused, her mouth open, a feather sticking to the corner of her mouth. Wiping at it, she admitted,
"...Already? I'm not sure I know where to go from here." Three sets of phantom eyes bore through her from cocked heads. One instructed her to look, taking her by the wrist and bringing her precariously near to the cliff's edge. She complied, eyes pouring over the melting streams below; flat, cerulean bodies of water formed deltas and creeks in a vast meadow. She was sure it had once contained wildflowers or their Underground equivalent... but now it was scorched, with only tiny blackened stems poking out of the ground meekly. Small things scurried, and in the near distance stood the only unnatural structure: a single turret made of weather-beaten granite. It was perversely idyllic.
"Hoggle..!" she exclaimed, noticing his distinctive dwarfed form standing alone by the pools and channels. She lunged forward nearly a foot and shot back just as quickly. "I can't get down there... but we've come so far now, we can't possibly have time to turn back! Must we... turn back?" She was blatantly horrified as she looked between her guides for an answer, again feeling childish and incapable.
Eight looked at its knuckles , flexing its fingers and watching the joints turn pale. It pretended not to hear. "Send Jareth our love, Sarah. Oh please, humour us." It almost looked sad.
Six averted its expressive eyes too, preferring to stare down at the plain below. "It's a shame you don't want to join us. We would care about you... we'd have such fun; you, ourselves, the dead..."
Sarah half-turned to face them with mixed emotions. Seven looked sombre, raising its head and walking towards her. It placed a white-washed hand on either of her shoulders and exhaled only slightly as it spoke, "We understand. We suppose. If King of Goblins, though no heart for any, be necessary for fate, then go. Save friends. If king-"
"Bastard," Eight threw out, more forlorn than spiteful.
"...if he is frozen not to you, complete task. Goodbye." Its hands slid down over her shoulders to her back where it hugged her for a moment. Sarah went to pat its back, and was rushed with what felt like a blanket of chilled air. She couldn't feel the body in front of her, her feet left the ground for a second and landed on a surface more crisp. The warmth returned, and she was at the foot of the steep valley, looking up at her guides. Like wisps of pale flame they disbanded, turning to gases before her squinting eyes.
"Sarah, you've made it." She turned to face the stretch of parched land, smiling in spite of it and trying her best to run towards her friend. A muggy sense of deja vu connected hard with her shoulder as Hoggle's head collided with her collarbone. He pulled free of her hug, composing himself as she stood up and smiled ridiculously at him whilst holding back an elated sob. His skin was a khaki hue and blotched in the wrong places. Sarah tried to tell him how sorry she was, about how she meant to arrive sooner, about her regrets of not visiting the Labyrinth and not doing enough to prevent the disaster.
He dismissed them all, partially disappointing her but reminding her of his regular bashful nature. She felt drained and sluggish at best, slightly dazed from having made the journey in what felt like so short a time frame.
"No time. To lose. Sarah," he chose not to remark on her pyjamas or blood stains, pulling her over to the water's edge without the need for much explanation.
Sarah continued to empty her emotions on him, apologizing and laughing feebly at the irony of their reunion while she removed the flask from around herself, unscrewed the lid and knelt before the water. "So this is... Lethe..?" she wondered at its surface, glancing round to make sure Hoggle was still there. She was scarcely aware of her actions, rushed by adrenaline and unsure where to look.
Trying to smile, he answered between harshly drawn breaths, "This is the one. It's... the source of... the souls which... kill memory. I can't get... too close." He wheezed and held out an object for Sarah to take. She stared him down, puzzled, stating passively, "I already have a flask."
Hoggle looked between her flask and his own, comparing them and looking as if trying to find an excuse of some sort. He didn't, instead offering, "Look here, you're all prepared. That's funny, that is..."
In her dazed state she shrugged and plunged her hands into the pool along with her flask, filling it with water that felt too smooth, too velvety and fast-flowing for a supposedly isolated pond. It spiralled clockwise in a current of its own, a thin mist floating over it that Sarah hadn't noticed at first. As she retracted her hands and secured the container, the water gasped and its smoke rose out towards the girl on its banks. Hoggle yelled out for her to get back, which she did with time, lingering for a second or two as the mist touched her fingertips lightly.
The two of them marched slowly but purposefully across the once-meadow. It was the first time in months that Sarah had felt a sense of accomplishment, and the sight of the granite tower nearing closer sent her heart into mild palpitations. Hoggle struggled beside her, hobbling as fast as he could manage and putting on his version of a brave façade. "You know Hoggle," she began contemplatively, "I don't think I've ever been as helpless as I have these past days. When I left Underground for the first time, I was elated. It's stupid, but I felt empowered. All that fairy-tale nonsense I'd wished was true had become real. Everything I thought most beautiful was reality, and it was here..." They arrived at the turret and she paused to soak in the valleys and hills, the warped weather streams and the now tiny Labyrinth walls just visible behind to their left. "I just..." she lost her sentence, letting it go into the strengthening wind.
"Sarah," Hoggle said, hesitant as if asking a large favour, "Would you do me the honour... and let me... rest outside. While you go... in, I mean. Into the tower. I'm sorry but I'm... real tired." She could see the genuine fatigue manifest itself in his whole body. He slumped himself down by the wooden door, handing Sarah the same flask as before. "Take it. Inside with you, I was a'meant to... give it... to you... but y'know... what happened." She leaned down and took the flask in her hand, unable to feel it through the layers of cloth but gripping it tightly.
"Sure thing Hoggle," and she kissed his head in reassurance, "I'll be back soon." She left him with a diluted smile.
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An echo of her own footsteps greeted her inside, hinges as large as her face held the door to its building as she closed it with a rush of powder. The floors were icy and thick with dust, pink and grey and blue particles carpeting the interior. A spiral staircase led to a single room with annex to a second, and inside the main circular space stood three pieces of furniture. Sarah called out a crass hello.
Nothing. The room looked empty. Her feet left liquid trails of nature over the stone floor, sockprints leading up to the only other doorway. Peering inside, it looked equally deserted. Would she have to wait? Her bones ached and her mouth was painfully dry. Her teeth chattered and she looked down at her flasks, one in her hand, one on her sash, and licked her lips absently.
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Some minutes elapsed. Two windows looked out from the room, one in the direction of the Labyrinth, one out onto a rift in the sky. The clouds were clustered like a wound, gaping and oozing like a nightmare waterfall. It felt most natural for Sarah to rest on the only chair, bringing it up by the window and feeling like a broken robot as her joints protested at being sat down. From the high ceiling rafters descended a ragged barn owl, silent in its approach and unnoticed by Sarah.
Fingertips pressed lightly into her shoulders, eliciting what would be a startled jolt or a scream. If it weren't for the fact she could not move. Her insides writhed uncontrollably and Sarah felt as though she might pass out, closing her eyes in the utter strangeness of it. Jareth moved around to her side, asking her to stand and waiting patiently as she followed his request. Sarah saw his face not quite as it had been in the glass orb, his eyes still blueish and mismatching, though set in his face that was grave and gaunt. The temperature was implausibly wintry.
Sarah fought back the insanity in her chest, embracing the will to move on with the plan quickly and feeling impatient. Her eyes were now almost level with his, a strange realization that reminded her she was taller than the last time they had met in person. His skin was paler than she remembered; his eyes shot with tiny glints of red. She felt as though he should be saying something, but instead he reached out with both hands and placed them on the flask, prying it from her slowly. His lips made the quietest sound as they parted. "Thank you, Sarah."
Her cuts throbbed beneath their bandages and she opened and closed her fists a few times. She could feel the salt of perspiration sting her exposed flesh. The Goblin King's fingers moved slowly over the outside of the flask. He moved back a step, and Sarah couldn't place his demeanour in the slightest. In a short-lived moment of outrage, she felt the rush of concern and terror from her past few days slam into her at once.
"Well? Is it enough? Don't stand around biding your god-damn time. Do something!" She noticed her wrists pressing hard against the window's stone ledge and eased the pressure.
Jareth tried to give a jaded smirk but let it fall away. He leant his head against the masonry, adopting a low, quiet tone and speaking firstly to himself, "Hello Jareth, how nice to see you." "Oh Sarah, how are you?" "I'm fine, perhaps distressed, clad in torn nightwear, how are you?" A gravelled, nervous quasi-laugh escaped his throat. "Sarah I am... not well. At all."
He sighed and rested against the wall for a moment, his cold breath visibly floating up to the ceiling. "Sarah, do you know why it was my duty to do as I did to you? To take away young relatives from those who are ungrateful?"
In her head she had already turned away from him and implored that they hasten their progress; journey to Hades or complete whatever step came next in his plan, but this time she was truly frozen still. She remembered the words of the numbers and she hated them for being right. Their estimations of the Goblin King were horribly accurate, and she saw his self-centric, manipulative core-being stand beside her, wasting precious seconds with his questions that were fairly rhetorical but she couldn't tell for certain and didn't care to. He apologized again, slipping his arms out from his jacket and placing it around Sarah's shoulders. It made her feel like an invalid. Or a damsel in distress, either was sickening and it hurt her chest and ran impatient laps in her consciousness.
"I just needed you to listen, and not interrupt. I'm sorry you cannot move but you must hear this." She felt as though living her recent nightmare, angry with herself and disgusted at every daydream and fantasy she scorned to admit to herself even took place in her head over the past five years. She felt repulsed and saddened, and they were running out of time.
"Ruling over the Goblins is not something I enjoyed, but it was for a purpose. If someone had chosen myself over their sibling, then indeed they would get their wish; they would spend their life with me, and I would be true to my promises." The gaps between his words widened, "But this person would ultimately regret their decision. They would leave their family and friends and anyone they had to cherish or converse with, and they would have only me. They'd never speak to another human again." His gaze floated around the room, his eyes tired. "You see, it is ultimately a punishment. I was only there to tempt those who are undeserving of the life they have. True-minded individuals would not succumb to that and, as you have proven, I'm not entirely irresistible."
"Where is Ludo, Jareth? Where are Sir Didymus and Ambrosius? The worm people and that irritating junk lady?" she snapped. She wanted desperately to close her eyes, seeing Jareth's expression grow regretful and pained, looking utterly wrong on his usually-smug face.
"Sarah, I so wish not to say these next words." He turned away from her as he continued, "Underground has been doomed from the beginning."
Her pulse soared and she wanted very badly to move. The cold from the floor crept up her legs and back and caught her harshly in the spine.
"Hades of the Underworld, his greed so vast it could not suffice with its own realm, was stealing the souls he deemed evil from Underground, and casting them into his abyss. No penance or retribution. I saw the spirits of the dead laid out in rivers to drown... and I tried to stop it." He paused, taking hold of Sarah's bandaged hands, casting the wall a resentful look in hatred of his clichéd gesture.
"The spell I cast was more of a curse; it was meant to destroy his realm, or part of it, as vengeance. But it... backfired. I underestimated the strength of the dead and, as you know, a rupture in the Underworld occurred, and what you've seen outside followed. But not even this charmed water can return order. I apologize so greatly, but my Dear we could never dream of getting close to Hades."
Bile rose in Sarah's stomach, intensifying for the number of imaginary times their skin had touched. The force of reality stuck pins into her skin and dug around until her muscles came close to collapse. She thought she might collapse along with them, her every nerve shaking with the will to just disappear. To never need to look at his face again.
"My friends are going to die out there, you've brought me all the way here from my home in the human world, and you didn't have the decency to tell me the truth? Fuck you Jareth." She wanted to wipe the tears off her face, and instead her breath shuddered. "Fuck you."
He didn't look at her, having known she would react in that manner. She felt in need of unlimited personal space, hatred pulsing through her from the pressure of his hands on her's. He looked for a moment at her immobilised face, leaning in close so she felt his cheekbone touch her own. His breath swirled in the shell of her ear, cooling and invasive. "I promise, Sarah, you can still save your friends, and perhaps something more. I wouldn't lie to someone I love about something so cruel." Before she could protest, he moved back and picked up the flask with minutely shaking hands.
"I brought you here... as a final gesture, so that you may never call upon your friends and wonder why they never reply. I didn't want you to feel abandoned."
Her legs unstiffened, the static curse relenting, and Sarah watched in disdain as Jareth emptied the flask's contents onto the floor carelessly. Sarah wrenched herself from the spot she'd been trapped in and felt like screaming in his face, or punching him, or curling up inside her head and crying like a stupid, ineffectual child. She felt more than betrayed. Jareth watched her storm from the room, calling after her,
"It is my fault the kingdom is damned, but I had a choice! Between assigning the curse to this realm or your's. You may not forgive me, but I would rather see Underground fall to ruins than know you've perished because of me! I regret your friend's fate, but for the former I will never be sorry." Tears swam mockingly in his eyes and he yelled frustratedly, following her path down the staircase and out into the now raging weather. He could hear her shouting for Hoggle.
"Where is he? What the hell have you done to him?" She stopped amid the chaos of land chunks being torn from the ground, ripped up and shredded in the air as if the Underworld's catalyst had been finally released. Waves of red and brown dust blew rings around the turret and its surrounding land, filling Sarah's mouth and nostrils with choking particles. Jareth caught up with her, struggling to hear through the cacophonous storm.
"Just give me the lines, tell me how to get back!" she wiped at her face, feeling the granules scratch against her skin, "If they're all dead then let me go home!"
"First open the flask, the one H... Hoggle gave to you!" he braced himself for her correction of the name but it never arrived.
She fumbled with the object on her sash, unable to even cry. Jareth yelled the first few lines of the incantation and she repeated, straining to catch every word and trying to banish the voices that were now bombarding her. They were the voices of her Underground friends, converging at the mouth of the flask as if teleported from far away. She recalled every inch of her stupidity; every hint and clue that her journey would be a horror story of deceit and disappointment. She knew the numbers had warned her, perhaps they had been lauding sometimes but they spoke the truth... she was almost certain of it.
Jareth had gone silent. Her patience was non-existent and she screamed obscenities at him, pleading for the last lines of the spell to take her home. The noise of the sky and earth was burning her ears and Jareth was no longer calling out lines but throwing at her a torrent of statements, the sound reaching her in incomplete blocks.
"Those...the last lines... I know y... maybe some d... and I could ne... I c... never care...anyo... else... ever! Put...d...n the flask!"
Her spacial awareness collapsed as she heard Hoggle speak to her. She felt ridiculous holding her head close to the flask, trying to listen in the small hope that his voice was indeed coming from it. "Don't be mad, Sarah," voiced his familiar, apologetic tone, "There are some things you've just got to believe. And believe me, we'll be with you, back at home when you close the lid. Listen to Jareth, for once maybe believe in what he says. And, Sarah, you've already said the last lines."
Curiosity held her down and made her wheel round to peer into the ash and rocks. Was it true, what Jareth said? About her? A nostalgic pang ached in her body and she placed the lid onto the container, turning it slowly and blinking through the sand. Some shameless emotion, be it greed or loneliness or love, brought out her final will and she reached blindly out in front of her, searching. The ground below was breaking apart as she felt herself collide with something. She could only pray it was what she'd meant, and tightened the lid hastily as the Underground she knew disappeared forever.
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The college student named Sarah found herself just outside her apartment, planting herself cross-legged on the ground. The grass was wet and moss-choked, and in her hand was an emptied wooden flask; its previous contents spreading out among the trees like fireflies in the wind. On a day so unremarkable to anyone else, the girl looked fondly after the small shapes, waving to them gently. Green eyes hid behind their lids as she relaxed in quiet lonesomeness after three days of being back home. She had been laughing to herself about what something had said, chuckling sadly that she had mistaken jealous asides for useful advice.
Overcome with disorderly thought, she turned in incredulity as someone approached her from behind. Sarah mistrusted her vision, recognising the pair of eyes whose body sank itself on the moss beside her, seemingly younger, seemingly the same. His blonde hair was chin-length and chopped at angles, and he looked only at the ground as he spoke.
"I suppose as a human, I no longer have forever. Will what I have be long enough to make it up to you?"
The gaze dissolved into her own, shy and strange but edging on flirtatious, and she admitted a small defeat. Her head nodded and her lungs filled with air of a peculiar kind. The man sighed,
"Perhaps, a new beginning waits."