The Second Labyrinth

by Thomas Austin

Chapter One

"Hey, Sarah!" Dylan walked into the living room and set down a box on the table. "Check out what I found."

It had been ten years since Dylan Bruce met Sarah Williams in their senior year at college at four since they got married and moved to his family farm forty miles out of San Antonio. She had brought a lot of stuff with her, but the packed most of it away in the storm cellar without thinking of what it was. It was about time that they cleaned it out, he had thought, and he found some pretty interesting stuff down there.

She came out of the kitchen in shorts and a t-shirt, which was slightly stained with oil. She walked up and looked at the box as she put her arms around him from behind. "What is it?"

"How'd you get all that junk on your shirt? It was clean a minute ago!"

"Oh, I decided to try your mom's recipe for fried corn bread." She sighed and looked down at the shirt. "It kind of splattered."

"Did you get burned?"

"No," she groaned. "I didn't get burned. The shirt caught it." Kissing on the neck, she said, "Don't worry, I'm fine. Now what is it you found?"

He opened the box and said, "I found a bunch of your books. This one looks like a diary." He pulled out a tattered brown book and held it up. She reached for it, but he snatched it away and wriggled free from her. She grabbed for it again, but he ran to the other side of the living room and took a football stance. She laughed and charged him, reaching for the book and the last second, but ending up with his arms wrapped around her waist. They fell to the floor laughing, and Dylan dropped the book. She grabbed for it and looked at the cover.

"It's not a diary," she said. "It's just an old novel I used to like when I was a kid."

"Used to?" He put his hands behind his head as she rested her head on his chest. "What happened? Did you just stop liking it?"

She was leafing through the pages, and shut them all of a sudden, very forcefully. "Yes," she said. The tone in her voice changed completely, so that Dylan was a little nervous now. He picked his head up and said, "Dear, what happened?"

Sarah stood up and said, "I don't want to talk about it. Now supper's ready." She dropped the book into the box as she went into the kitchen.

Dylan got up and looked after her. He knew there were things that he didn't know about her past, but he had thought it was all little things. What was so special about this book that would get her so riled up? He picked up the book before going into the kitchen and took a second look at the title.

"The Labyrinth," he whispered.

* * *

All through supper, which was pretty good considering Sarah's usual cooking abilities, Dylan tried to make conversation, but Sarah was completely unresponsive. As they were cleaning up, he put his arms around her waist and kissed her on the back of the neck. She smiled and gave a little moan.

"Sarah," he whispered. "I'm really worried about you. What was in that book that-"

She tore herself away from him. "The book?" she screamed. "You want to know what's in that book? I want it out of here, Dylan. Gone!"

"What, do you want me to donate it to the library, or something?"

"Burn it." She stood there resolutely glaring at him. "That book nearly ruined my life. I want you to burn it!"

Burn it? He crossed his arms. "Isn't that against to librarian code, or something? You know, thou shalt not burn a book under any circumstance?"

"This isn't funny, Dylan."

"I'm not trying to be funny, but you're acting all crazy on me over some stupid book! Are you having PMS or something?" As soon as he said it, Dylan had known that he was going to be hurt. "I am such an idiot."

"Yes, you are," she said, as she marched up to him and slapped him across the face. She turned from him and sat at the table. "Dylan, I'm sorry. I am acting crazy, and it is just a stupid book, but there are things in there that, well, that shouldn't be read."

"This isn't some kind of Lovecraftian Necronomicon is it?" He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. It was so small compared to his linebacker's paws that both her hands almost fit into one of his.

She laughed. "No, it's just-just get rid of it okay? Don't burn it, but I don't want to see it anymore. Throw it in the wood chipper for all I care."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll go do that right now." As he stood, he cradled her chin in his hand. She smiled up at him tiredly. When he leaned down to kiss her, she put her arms around his neck and let him pull her to her feet, the two of them still kissing. When they finally broke the kiss, she was sitting on the kitchen table. He said, "Wow, and they all said I was crazy for marrying a Yankee girl."

"I love you, Dill." She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I love you too, Sarah." He hadn't come up with a cute nickname that could be made from her name. They held each other for almost a minute before she swatted his hip.

With a laugh, she said, "Now go take care of that book, all right?"

"All right! I'll get rid of it." He walked into the living room and picked the book off the table. It was open. He could have sworn that he had set it down closed. Huh, they didn't have a cat or anything. Maybe Ambrosia, their German shepherd-no he couldn't have done it. Whatever. He read a passage as he carried it out to the wood chipper, speaking as he read, "And the varlet stood and cried out in anguish, for his terror had been made real this very night. Then he cried out to the winds, 'Goblin King, Goblin King, take my love away from me!'"

He didn't hear Sarah as she ran out from the kitchen calling his name in a panicked frenzy.

He continued reading, "As the man stood on the parapet, nothing happened. In his anguish, he said, 'I wish the Goblin King would come and take her away.'" He laughed out loud. He said, "Sarah, you hear that cra-?"

He didn't see Sarah standing there.

"Sarah?" He shut the book and looked in the kitchen. "Sarah," he called, in a singsong voice. "Where are you?" Still holding the book, he looked through the kitchen, and then in all the rooms. "Sarah, are you hiding from me?" He started laughing. Even though she was a full thirty years old, Sarah still liked to play little games with him. Of course, the outcome was generally a bit more—mature—than children's games. As he started up the stairs, the lights went out.

"Sarah?" he called again, this time getting a bit more nervous. Was she messing with the fuse box? No, she'd have had to pass him to get to the basement. He heard, but didn't feel, a wind blowing through the house as clouds seemed to gather outside the windows. They were black and thick. "Sarah! There's a tornado coming!" He ran up the stairs to see if she was there. Nothing. He heard someone moving downstairs. It sounded like there were a lot of them. Ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty. It sounded like someone was having a party in his house and there was a blasted tornado coming. He went to his office and grabbed a shotgun out of its box.

"Sarah, I've got my gun! Stay where you are, there's someone here! If you're not Sarah, get out of my house!" He finished loading the shotgun and rushed downstairs with it ready to fire. Nothing. There was no one there. The clouds were continuing to gather. He said, "Sarah, this stopped being funny! Come on, we need to get to the storm shelter!"

"Sarah's not here," someone said behind him.

Dylan whirled around, ready to fire, but there was no one there.

The man's voice spoke again. "Sarah's not here, and there's no point in waving that gun around. You can't hurt me, Dylan."

"Who are you?" he shouted. "Where are you? How did you get into my house? Where is my wife?"

Out of nothing, a man appeared in front of him, dressed in white spandex pants and a frilly shirt that made him look like a freaking pirate. The man had white hair that made him look like a peacock and—was he wearing makeup?

The man said, "Your wife isn't hear anymore. I took her-"

Before he knew what he was doing, Dylan pulled the trigger. The smoke filled the room, and the noise deafened him temporarily, but he knew that he had shot the man. Great, he was probably unarmed, too. Before he could contemplate what to tell the police, he was shocked to see the man still standing there, only more annoyed than before.

"Didn't I tell you that wouldn't work?" He groaned and looked at his shirt, which now had buckshot holes in it. "Honestly, you mortals think your guns will solve anything."

"Mortals? What are you talking about?" Dylan lowered the gun and said again, "Who are you?"

The strange man groaned and said, "Fool, I'm the Goblin King! You asked me to take your wife and-"

"I was reading a kid's book!"

"Listen, Dylan." The Goblin King pointed his finger at him and said, "You called my name and wished for me to take Sarah away from you, and that's what I've done. It doesn't matter what you think, and if you interrupt me one more time, you'll never see her again." His voice took a certain affectation that seemed very menacing to Dylan for some reason.

He said, "What do I have to do to get her back?"

The Goblin King tapped the book, which he was now holding for some reason, and said, "Go through my labyrinth to my Goblin City and take her back. I'll make the same deal for you as I did for her, all those years ago. Thirteen hours, or else she's mine."

"Years ago? What happened?"

"She didn't tell you?" The Goblin King laughed. "Oh, I shouldn't be surprised. I suppose it was rather traumatic. She probably doesn't realize I'm still alive, at least, not yet." He took out a glass ball and began playing with it in his hand. "Don't worry about the clouds. It's not a tornado, just-covering your house for a little while," he said, looking up with a malicious smile. "So we can't have any interruption." Then, as if by magic, Dylan noticed that the single glass ball had become three, as if the other two had come out of it. He was transfixed by them, though he knew that someone calling himself the Goblin King would probably be putting him under some kind of spell. He broke his gaze from the glass balls and glared at the Goblin King. "Pity, I almost had you."

Dylan said, "I want to know what you did to her. Back then."

The Goblin King walked up to him and whispered in his ear, "Then ask her when—I mean—if you save her. Remember, thirteen hours, starting now." While Dylan still felt the man's hot breath on his cheek, everything around him was gone. He was standing on a forest path, unlike any he had ever seen in Texas, and was still holding his shotgun. As he started walking, he heard the Goblin King's voice in the trees say, "And if you bring that gun, I will kill her as soon as you step foot in the labyrinth."

Dylan set the gun against a tree, knowing that he was probably giving it up for good. If it meant getting Sarah back, he'd do it. Of course, the Goblin King didn't say anything about the six-inch blade pocket knife he carried with him everywhere. As he walked down the path, he saw a walled maze ahead of him. It sure did look like a labyrinth all right, circular motion of the maze and everything. Of course, this was seemed different. There were three focal points. Dylan was no idiot, and he had actually read some of Sarah's mythology and literature books that she brought home from working at the library every week. They were supposed to have one, and the worst thing was, each focal point in the labyrinth was a city. This was going to be hard, but he had to do it.

He came to the wall, and it looked like it was made of some kind of hard stone, but not any kind that he'd ever seen, and he worked as a landscaper building walls. He walked along until he found a gate, but it was closed. There wasn't a guard, so he walked up and took the handle. It pulled open very easily. That was a bad sign. It told him that the Goblin King wanted him to go in. He sighed and went in anyway. When the gates closed behind him, he knew that he was in for a real ride.

He was in a single passageway; he could go either left or right, but they both looked the same. He had never gone in for much philosophy, but where magic was concerned, he figured things should look different than they really are, so he chose left and ran his right hand along the wall as he walked. Eventually, he found a break in the wall. He stepped back and congratulated himself, because he would not have seen it otherwise. Before he went in, he heard what sounded like a very high-pitched Cockney accent behind him and whirled around. As he looked, he saw a fuzzy worm sitting on a rock at his eye level.

The worm spoke to him. It said, "You're not going in there, are you?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I kind of have to. I have to get to the Goblin City."

"Oh! Are you crazy?" The worm wriggled its way to the edge of the brick it was sitting on and practically touched his nose. That's the last place you want to go in there."

Dylan laughed. A talking worm just called him crazy. He said, "Look, I don't know if I took too much Sudafed or what today, but I've been seeing some weird stuff for the last fifteen minutes, and I have less than thirteen hours to get there before my wife belongs to the Goblin King forever." He stood up and turned away. "Why am I talking to a worm?"

"Oh, a worm, am I?" It wriggled in defiance. "Well, I am a worm, but that doesn't mean I'm not a good conversationalist. I like to read. I have quite the library of books."

"Don't," Dylan said putting a finger up. "Don't say it."

The worm huffed. "Most people laugh when I say it."

"Sorry, but Sarah makes the bookworm joke a lot."

"Sarah? I remember her!"

Dylan moved in close to the worm. Excited, he said, "Oh, can you help me?"

"Me? I'm just worm, but you might want to know that Jareth's castle is in the north Goblin City. There's three of them in this labyrinth. He only finished it last year. The other one fell over."

"Jareth? Is that the Goblin King?"

"Yes, he is. You be careful of that one, or you'll regret it."

"All right, thanks." He started into the opening in the wall, and thought that he heard the worm say, "Of course, you may not live long enough for that."