Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Chapter Two: A Way Back
Sarah felt her head spinning, unable to process what had just happened. In a daze she wandered back down the road to the apartment. Like a zombie she trudged up the steps to the door which she found unlocked. Stepping inside felt unreal; the safe, cozy atmosphere laid untouched but everything inn Sarah's mind revolted.
"Herlathing," she whispered to herself, not liking the sound of the word. Slowly she came back to herself as the minutes ticked past, shaking off the sense of unreality. She clenched her jaw and started moving, her mind spinning.
"Herlathing, what the hell is that?"
One large, leather bound book stuck out on the bookshelves in the living room. It was a childish Encyclopedia or Fairies and Fairy realms, bought on sale at a big name bookstore. Still, it seemed the most readily available source of information to her frazzled nerves, even if the author believed no more in the material than an atheist did in god.
Almost dreading the answers she might find, Sarah flipped back through the index, searching for the mysterious word.
"Habundia; Hag; Heinzelmännchen; Herla, see Wild Hunt," she paused, "Wild Hunt?" the words of the King came back to her and she quickly flipped to the back of the index, "Wild Hunt, page 233," she flipped forward, her eyes casting down the brightly illustrated page.
The two page spread featured watercolor pictures of noblemen on horseback and a spiraling pack of hounds around their feet. The men were dressed in fine, rich clothing and each was adorned by a long trailing beard.
Her eyes skimmed the text accompanying the pictures. The simplistic tale related three different variations on the same theme: men of a fantastical nature racing through the English countryside, hunting lost souls, the dead or the misfortunate.
Her heart almost stopped as she read, "Sometimes, if a person encounters the Wild Hunt in progress, they may be swept up into the tableau and become, themselves, the hunted. To prevent just such a thing happening, villagers often instructed their maiden daughters to hide their faces when the hounds of the Wild Hunt were heard."
Feeling a little defeated, Sarah pulled the heavy book closed. She leaned her back against the couch where she'd collapsed on the living room floor, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her thoughts were in a flurry, turning over what she'd read. Suddenly she frowned,
"Why wasn't I taken?"
Sarah scrambled up, casting about for another book that might have more detailed information.
"Oh, what's the use, it's not as if any of these authors believe in any of this anyways," she turned from the bookcase with a small sigh of disgust. Her eyes searched the cluttered shelves, touching on titles like Peter Pan, The Fairie Queen and Brian Froud's Goblins of the Labyrinth.
She froze, eyes darting between the book title and a circular sun mirror on the opposite wall. An idea blossomed in her mind and she rushed to the mirror, jerking it off the wall and taking a seat back on the couch. Her stomach turned over nervously, knotting, worrying that this wouldn't work.
"Only one way to find out," Sarah squared her shoulders and faced the mirror, "H…Hoggle? Can you hear me? I need you Hoggle, I need you." She waited, her heart beating furiously. It hadn't worked. For an instant she had been so certain it would work. They had promised to be there if she needed them and now, with Imogen's disappearance and probable involvement in the Wild Hunt, she desperately needed a little fairy assistance.
Desperately she shook the mirror and called beseechingly, "Hoggle? Sir Diddymus? Please, I really need your help. Can anyone hear me?" frustration welled up inside her and Sarah started to lower the mirror from her lap when a vague, distorted image swam into focus.
"My lady?" a voice rose innocently from the glass.
"Sir Diddymus?" Sarah called back, "Sir Diddymus is that really you?" she peered into the cracked and crenulated surface of the mirror, trying to make out the image of her old friend. She couldn't be certain, but even with the poor image quality he looked greyer than she remembered, a little more worn around the edges, his mustachios a little droopier.
"My lady!" he bowed low, "it has been so long, I admit I had almost quite given up hope of ever speaking with you again."
Sarah felt a pang of guilt, she really had no idea what the time difference might be between her world and the Underground. To her, a half dozen years had passed but as she gazed at the aged visage of the terrier she began to suspect it had been a great deal longer for him.
"I'm so sorry Sir Diddymus, I can't really explain, but I need your help. Someone's help. You see I've got this friend—"
"Wished away?" the knight's image crackled and flickered, like a bad antenna signal on the TV.
"No, nothing like that. Well, maybe like that, I'm not really sure exactly, that's part of the reason why I called."
"My lady? Are you still there?" the interference in the mirror's image got worse, flickering in and out and Sarah had a hard time distinguishing Sir Diddymus's words.
"Sir Diddymus? I need a way back into the Underground. I have to find my friend and I think she might have been transported there, somewhere. Sir Diddymus?" she felt a little frantic, calling into the mirror but to no avail.
"My la—" the shiny surface went dark and then snapped back to normal, revealing nothing more exciting than Sarah's own haggard expression.
"Nooo," she moaned, shaking the mirror. Wilting, she set the mirror back down on the floor and slid off the couch. She rubbed at the headache forming between her eyes and pounded a fist against her thigh, "It's not fair." The minute the words left her mouth she cringed, darting a glance at the dark mirror but it remained impassive.
"Okay, think Sarah, what other options are there? There has to be another way to get into the Underground. You've just got to think," she looked around the room, from the discarded encyclopedia to the mirror to the array of books and candles and plants arrayed on the bookshelves. Again, her eye caught the illustrated book of Goblins and her mind turned over with a sickening crunch.
Him, He could get her back into the Underground.
Sarah felt her stomach tie up in knots at the very thought, the merest suggestion. For months after her trip through the Labyrinth her mind had been full of him, Jareth, King of the Goblins. He had haunted her dreams. Every night she couldn't help but hear that voice, its melody, following her, taunting her. And by day she had caught her eye wandering through crowds, focusing on tall blond heads, looking for him. She had felt his presence over her shoulder.
Now, staring dejectedly at the book, she couldn't think of any other way. But oh how she wished there was.
Swallowing thickly, Sarah scrambled up and stood rigidly, her voice nevertheless strong and unyielding as she gathered her courage around her like a shield, "I wish I could speak with the Goblin King."
Nothing happened.
"Right now?"
The air crackled and came to life. Wind swirled through the house, upsetting papers and tipping over knickknacks. A loud banging thundered against the door. Sarah's heart leapt up into her throat and suddenly the front door blew open. A white owl flew into the room, spiraling around her head.
With a flash he was there again, standing before her in all his finery, just as she remembered. That same wicked mouth turned up in a snaggle toothed sneer of a smile, mismatched eyes glittering palely in the early morning daylight. She had a momentary sensation of unreality, viewing him like this, in a swath of sunlight, but when he spoke it was exactly the same.
"My my, what could you possibly want now?"
She opened her mouth to answer but froze. I really should have thought this one through first.
TBC