Title: The Herlathing
Rating: T for now
Pairing: J/S
Disclaimer: Don't own Labyrinth, its characters, the movie-plot, or the other mythos referenced. Don't sue; I have no job and no money.
Summary: On the eve of the Wild Hunt, Sarah's connection to the Underground endangers the life of a friend and she must once again make a deal with the devil and travel into the fantastic world of her childhood before it's too late...
Chapter One: Ruined Spectres of Gallant Huntsmen
"Sarah, you're going to be late," Imogen Smith called through her roommate's bedroom door.
Inside, arms and legs askew, Sarah twitched. The harsh reverberating knock that followed the voice brought forth a groan and she rolled over reluctantly. The digital face of her clock backed up the claim. She jolted awake, tumbling from the bed and stumbling to her closet.
"Shoot."
"Sarah?"
"I'm up, could you just—coffee!" she tripped over a pile of clothes needing to be washed and landed sharply against the closet. Sarah tugged the door open and grabbed jeans and a sweater, turning and rushing out of the bedroom and into the washroom.
Imogen listened to the banging and clattering with something close to mild amusement as she fiddled with mugs and the coffee maker. Crisping bread smoked in the toaster, a badly closed jar of jam rested on the counter, and runny nonfat milk waited to cancel the black coffee's inevitable acidity.
She wasn't what you would call a superstitious person by any means. More steady and level headed and labeled a boor by their party-happy friends. But even so, her roommate's erratic behavior of late almost did begin to make her believe in some unseen mystical force.
"Maybe it's the full moon," she mused blandly.
Sarah breezed into the kitchen with damp hair but dressed neatly. She stopped bang in front of the coffee, pouring a big cup and ladling in sugar and milk, "Mmmmm," she all but inhaled the scalding liquid before turning a smile on Imogen, "Thanks."
"To—"
"Toast!" the brunette grabbed the offered jam smothered breakfast and headed for the door.
"You're a life-saver Gen, seriously, I'll make this up."
"Just get out of here."
Mouth full, she turned back at the door, "Seriously, Ben and Jerry's all around tonight yeah?"
Imogen waved her out, "Get."
"See you later!" the apartment door slammed shut behind her.
Imogen shook her head and turned to fix her own cup of java. When she turned back to the small living room she paused, noticing the canvas messenger bag shoved in the nook between an umbrella vase and the false fireplace. She grimaced and abandoned her cup, grabbing the back up and pursing her absent minded roommate.
Outside, the world law wreathed in a heavy layer of early morning fog, fitting for early November. The chill temperature cut through Sarah's light denim jacket and raised goose bumps all along her arms and neck. She wrapped her arms more closely around her body and picked up speed as she hit the sidewalk.
She had been fortunate to meet Imogen during a summer stock theatre class where the two young women had almost instantly hit it off. When fall quarter came around and Sarah started seeking more permanent residence, the Englishwoman had happily offered the spare room in her tiny London flat situated a circuitous eight blocks away from University. Together they had worked through August and September to renovate the space and turn it into a cheery literary dream full of built in book cases, a pristine espresso maker and a half dozen potted herb plants.
Now Sarah hurried to make her first final of the quarter, desperately wishing she could have afforded a car along with tuition. But on her small salary working in the University Bookstore along with what little her parent's could afford to send her halfway across the world didn't leave a whole lot for trivial conveniences.
A red light stopped her at the corner and she jittered impatiently, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. A sharp biting wind picked up, scattering dry leaves and loose sheaf paper across the road. The trash rustled almost musically. Sarah worked furtively to push her long brunette hair back behind her ear but it tangled and nearly blinded her.
To her left a car horn blared and was followed by a rending crash. Sirens wailed unexpectedly in the distance. Someone began shouting indistinctly into the increasing gale.
Above the noise Sarah swore she could hear her heart thudding in her ribcage and indistinctly, like someone whispering in the next room she thought she heard something like a trumpet sounding musically. The barest line of a melody she almost recognized scratched at the edge of her awareness.
Around her the fog thickened and a dread chill shot down Sarah's spine.
"What the hell?"
"Sarah!"
She spun at the voice, across the street and a hundred feet back, Imogen waved, red hair tossed awry by the chaotic wind. She held up what Sarah recognized as her backpack laughingly. Something in Sarah's gut turned cold.
"This isn't right," mumbled.
Again she heard the horn sounding, but closer, through the fog. Something scratched against cobbled streets and she swore she heard dogs howling at her elbow. People argued in the street, but their voices grew distant, distorted, as though she was listening to them through water.
She clawed at her hair and darted glances back and forth up the street. Something tugged at the cold lump traveling up to her throat. She felt dizzy and a great crash rent the air near her head. almost immediately she felt bitingly cold and then warm, living warmth that gusted as moist breath on the back of her neck and the baying dogs—it was definitely dogs, or maybe hounds—grew cacophonous.
"Sarah!"
Imogen's scream brought the brunette's attention back to the road where her friend had darted out around where the wreck had stopped traffic. Sarah blinked, unbelieving, the world around her had disappeared in the thick fog; she could hardly see six feet in front of her, barely to where Imogen stood frozen. The red head's eyes stared wide as saucers and filled with fright, her mouth dropping open in shock.
"Gen?" Sarah called back uncertainly. Her skin crawled and she knew instinctively something was wrong behind her. She couldn't bring herself to look. There was no response to her call. Imogen seemed to speak but sounds never left her throat as she vanished in the swirling wind.
"Gen!?"
Sound rushed back to her, the baying hounds and clattering hooves and suddenly she was surrounded by spectral figures mounted on horseback. The creature behind her moved around and into view, towering above her.
She blinked into the fog and shivered. A grey bearded man perched atop a large brown horse, rippling with muscle. As she looked, he appeared clothed in fine brocades and a flowing fur trimmed cloak. A bow and quiver slung across his back, the gleaming hilt of a wicked sword at his side and a sleek grey hunting hound rested across his thighs.
He dipped his head regally, "Good tidings to you lady."
"Who—who," she couldn't seem to make her mouth move. Her mind turned over and ground to a halt. It was too much. She had left this all behind. It couldn't be real.
He smiled, but it was the kind of smile trapped between jovial and sad, "King of Nowhere and forgotten past. Would the pretty Lady wish us a happy hunt?"
"Hunt?"
"The Herlathing awaits," he swept his arm expansively to encompass the ghostly half image of fellow mounted men and pack of dogs.
Forcing herself to form coherent fragments, Sarah swallowed and blurted, "Of course, happy hunt."
The King nodded his head and wheeled his horse away.
"Wait! What about my friend?" but they couldn't hear her, they were already disappeared like the wind and the fog. Sirens broke into Sarah's head and suddenly the world came rushing back to her. She felt dizzy and sat abruptly, her feet in the street.
An ambulance wailed up and slammed to a stop across the street. People argued and car horns honked as traffic tried to channel around the accident. A pale, sickly sun burned in the upper cloud cover.
Her tests forgotten, Sarah stared unblinkingly at the spot that had swallowed her friend whole…
TBC
A/N: Comments, questions? This is my first attempt at fanfiction in about three years and probably four years since I've written anything in the Labyrinth fandom. I'm not sure what current trends in Labyrinth fandom are so bear with me. Reviews are lovely :) More to come, though it might be slow so stay tuned.
