Life Without the Sunlight
Chapter Four
I went horse riding once when I was eight. I fell off the horse, made it lame, was given a new one for intermediate level riders, and that horse bit the instructor. I did not go back. So, one can imagine my surprise when I came to and felt myself rocking back and forth on horseback.
Blinking, I looked about and saw darkness, then trees. Then memory found me. My heartrate rocketed. "The snake!"
Arms around my waist tightened. "Easy, Sarah," was murmured in my ear. "The snake and that damn chicken are long dead."
"I wouldn't get your hopes up," came another voice. It was the cat, padding alongside the horse – except it wasn't a horse, it was a bear, or a bull, or . . . those ears, a dog? I stroked it. A dog made of moss?
And that was Jareth at my back, holding me to him as we rode the moss dog to who knew where through the forest of the shadow realm. Groaning, I ground the heels of my palms into my eyes and prayed for it to end. "This can't be real," I muttered.
"Dear Sarah, I did not know I was the stuff of fantasy for you."
"Toby!" I cried. "How long has it been?"
"Stop fussing. I've paused the clock. Really, Sarah, you do get yourself into the worst of trouble. I don't know how you manage it." He was teasing and after the terror of the snake and the whole shadow realm situation, it was more than I could handle. I wrenched myself free and slid off the dog to join the cat. "Sarah," Jareth inveigled. "Don't be petulant."
"I'm not," I replied. "I'm just sick of you."
"How could that be possible?" He lounged on top of the dog, grinning, windswept and moonlit. He fiddled with his hair. Somehow his haircut had kept its style well, from the fringe to the spikes to the long strands resting on his breastplate. It must be a fae thing.
"Where are we going?" I asked the cat.
"To the griffin. It will get you back to the Labyrinth."
Oh, thank the heavens. I'm getting out of here. That worry out of the way, it left me space to think on other things. Shoving the shaking fear of the snake deep into a locked box in my mind, I focused on its words instead. A Speaker, it had said. Speakers created it. "Do the things I make up in stories exist?"
"No," said Jareth. I glanced up at him. He adjusted his gloves as he spoke. "There is a certain level of belief required for things to come into reality. Generally, more than one person has to believe in the creature, or the belief has to be especially strong."
"You mean people believed in cockatrices at some point?"
"People believe anything."
"But . . . what about God? Does He exist?"
Jareth speared me with a smirk. "Someone had to believe in you lot."
"Oh. Which one is he?"
"Not sure. I think he had a son. Though that could be you Speakers filling my head with nonsense." He shrugged. "Does it matter?"
I didn't know whether to believe him – to believe any of this. But I decided then and there that when I got home, I'd find that Bible Grandma gave me for Christmas. God, huh? I'd been to Sunday school as a child, sure, but when Mom left us, Dad didn't feel comfortable returning to a church where gossip was as rife as at a high school. I'd never questioned it. Now, I wondered whether that was a fault of the people or the deity. Surely God didn't declare thou shalt talk behind parishioners' backs. Someone – or something – who created all of reality must have better things to do than to listen to petty rumours.
For the first time in my life, I was curious about the ideas of the world I lived in, instead of the fantasy ones I created. Later, though. For now, the immediacy of the shadow realm and Toby was more important.
We walked along in silence for a time. The cat carefully kept me between it and the dog. I didn't blame it, seeing as the dog was massive and could probably kill the cat with one bat of those paws. Jareth appeared content to ride it, lost in his own thoughts.
Why are we going to the griffin? I wondered. Why can't Jareth send us back? I asked the cat as much in a whisper.
"The King has no power here," said the cat, rumbling lowly. "Underground royalty may have the power to get here but they must go through the griffin to get back."
"Who is the griffin?"
"The most ancient of us. He controls the ways out of the Underground."
"But – but griffins aren't that ancient, are they? Surely the gods of the Egyptians or the Aztecs are older."
"You ever see a god wish to disappear?"
"No . . . I suppose not. The eldest has to open the door then, is that it?" Sarah could understand that.
"Glad it's not me," said the cat. "New shadow walkers tend to get violent when they realise they're trapped until they die."
"But everyone dies."
"Not in Underground," said the dog. I started in surprise. Its rumbling voice bounced along my ribcage. "In Underground we were immortal."
"Not for me," the cat grumbled. "Nine lives."
"Does that mean . . ." I looked at Jareth. He smirked at the question in my eyes.
"One of a kind, darling," he said a flick of his hair. "No one can replace me."
"We're here," the dog intoned.
There was no warning. One minute the forest was there. The next it wasn't. It was like Jareth transporting me through my bedroom window all over again.
We stood in a wide crumbling valley under the same starless night. Steep cliffs rose up to box us in and narrow the sky into a strip of blackness, the moon framed between them. The false, cratered circle on the sky threw the cliffs into shards of shadow and light and lit upon a dusty valley floor. How far the valley stretched, I could not tell, for the cliffs gradually curved and hid either end from view. A breeze swept through and brought with it salt and the suggestion of sea spray.
A caw startled me. High, high up, about halfway up the cliffs, a creature soared on the void of the sky. It wheeled in and out of the moon's path on thick wings that made no sound. Another animal joined it, this one long and thin, tapering to a razor's edge. And a third, whose body was translucent. The thin bones of its wings stood out in stark silhouette against the painted moon. The trio glided around each other, spiralling and looping, and then vanished into a black hole in the face of the left-side cliff.
Jareth's expression was hateful and jealous. His hair shone silver, his self-made crown. Ah, I remembered. He disguised himself as an owl Aboveground. The ability to fly would be one of the powers he lost here. It struck me at last that he was here to save me and had given up his powers to do so.
Was I meant to be thankful? I supposed I was, if confused why he would bother. Leaving me here was a sure-fire way for him to win the game.
He caught me staring and winked and I looked away, asking aloud, "Where's the griffin?"
"The griffin comes to us," said the dog. It lowered itself to its belly, green head thumping down in a little puff of dust, and appeared to sleep. The cat twitched an ear and darted off to curl up on a nearby rock. The whole valley was littered with such rocks, fallen from the cliffs, fracturing the hardpacked dirt and coating it with grit.
Jareth slid off the sleeping dog, dusted himself down, and strode towards the base of one of the cliffs. Not knowing what else to do, I followed. He glanced back to smirk at me and continued on. Scowling at the back of his head, I jogged forward until we were side by side. His long, languid stride meant I had to quickstep to keep up.
"What are you doing?" I asked. The cliff rise higher and higher before us. It was a magnificent monochrome wall of splintered and cracking rock. More creatures shuffled along its surface in a susurrus of resettling feathers and wings. They squatted on ledges and clung to the sheer face and more than a few peered down at our progress. It seemed every winged beast of mythology hung above us. I drew closer to Jareth.
As easy as stretching, he put an arm about my shoulders and tucked me into his side. I stiffened and tried to pull away. "Relax, Sarah. I'm not going to bite." The gleaming grin he gave me was not helpful. I huffed and stopped struggling. Though awkward, his warmth and the protective shield of his cloak were comforting, like hiding under the covers during a thunderstorm. No use fighting it, I reasoned. This will all be over soon and you will never see him again.
My heart twinged at the thought. I ignored it. Brutally.
A rubble pile had built up the base of the cliffs, the fallen debris of avian occupation. Jareth released me to scrabble – in a kingly fashion – over the boulders. I did not miss the contact. I didn't.
"What are you doing?" I repeated.
"Checking in on family," he replied.
"You have a family?" I couldn't believe I said it as soon as it left my lips.
"Unfortunately, thanks to your Speakers." He sounded calm but I sensed the bitterness and cast my eyes to the ground in shame.
We managed to get to where the top of the pile met the cliff. Or, rather, where the top of this section of the pile met the entrance to a cave. Or, rather, a jagged, narrow slit that threatened to cut us open.
"How do you know they're here?"
"Do you doubt me, Sarah?"
Yes. I shook my head and gestured for him to go first. He did so with a nauseating flourish of a bow. His long, lean figure slid into the slit with ease. I went through with much more trepidation, not breathing, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, whap, ouch, my knee, shuffle, shuffle, that almost took my eye out, shuffle, finally. I burst through to the other side and gasped first for breath, and then in amazement.
The scent of the ocean – seaweed, salt, seafoam – filled my nose and lungs and body and I gazed, gaping, around the cavern. It was covered from its curving ceiling to the bottom of the inset pool in mosaics of mermaids and fish of all shapes and sizes and horses being ridden by children and men with blue skin hiding in caves. The mosaic was lit by the pool water itself. The liquid glimmered, splashing beams of green on the walls and painting the children in a sickly cast.
The pool was not large, but it branched off into tunnels leading further into the cliffside. Through these tiled tunnels came the same sea breeze, cold and refreshing.
Movement caught my attention. In the rightmost tunnel, the light danced over the tentacles of the kraken as a shape cut through the water. It headed towards us in languid curves.
Jareth placed a hand on the small of my back and nudged me right to the lip of the pool. There we knelt, waiting, tracking the shape as it glided closer and closer. A tail. Arms. Hair, pale and rippling. This was one of my favourite fantasy creatures. I smiled, thrilling with excitement.
The mermaid's shining head broke through the glowing water, rising, rising, white, silken fingers resting on the lip of the pool and arms framing her naked chest. I blushed and fixed my eyes on her beautiful face. She winked at me. One eye was the brightest blue. The other light brown.
"Hello, Mother," said Jareth.
"Darling," said the mermaid, and she stroked the King's thin cheek with the smooth planes of her nails. The whole chamber echoed with her voice. It drifted as if caught on underwater currents. A piano's strings being plucked underwater. The siren call that sings sailors to their doom. It touched the soul and you wished to be closer to it. To touch wonder, to be more than human. That voice would take you to where you could dance among the waves and taste the rainbow in the ocean spray, if only you would trust it.
Jareth's arm struck out and hit me in the chest and I was stopped from falling. I teetered on the edge of the pool. A second later and I would have tumbled into the unearthly green waters. The mermaid laughed and my heart ached to follow her as she twisted away and stretched her pale arms. She floated in the centre of the pool, sighing and watching us.
"You do not visit me," she told Jareth.
"I have my kingdom to run."
"More like keep, is it not? When will you open the ways again and free your leper colony?"
"You know I cannot."
"You could at least visit me here. Is that so dangerous?"
Jareth's thin lips curved down, his brow puckering. He tugged me closer to him and wrapped me in the cloak. It was like nestling under the wing of a warm, lean bat. The mermaid smiled.
"Careful, darling. A girl's heart is easily stirred."
I hurriedly changed the subject, "How can you be his mother? He has legs," and put my foot in my mouth again.
With a wonderful laugh, she said, "You think he's like you. Sweetheart, he is as far from you as the sun is from the moon. We don't play by your Speaker rules."
"Why are you here? Why did you want to disappear?"
She pressed a finger to her lips. "We all have our stories."
"My father," said Jareth. "She was escaping him."
She shrugged and the delicate collarbones shifted under their thin covering. "I could have been a Queen if I stayed and made the Labyrinth more glorious than Atlantis ever was. Alas, it is not to be. I like it here. Though it would be nicer if my son visited more often." She flicked her tail and water sprayed over us and hung, sparkling, on our skin and clothes. It shone like tiny emerald stars on Jareth's cloak.
"Mother, you know I cannot, for the same reason you came here instead of being Queen."
Her tail slapped the surface. "The Labyrinth chose you to be King!"
The cry rang around us and dove headlong into the tunnels. We were left with lapping water in its wake. The mermaid moved through the pool towards the central tunnel. Her face was set in stone.
"You were the one to abandon me, Mother. I will do my duty towards you and no more." Jareth's voice rumbled, as ancient as the movement of the continents, unstoppable, while the mermaid's dissipated in the sea-soaked air as she whispered, "I am relegated to an afterthought, am I? No matter. No matter." She turned and swam into the tunnel. The shifting light on the tunnel's walls marked her path. "The sea cannot be bound. It was folly of your father and of you to think so. Until next time, darling." Her singsong words drifted on the breath of the ocean and sank into the pool. We were alone, Jareth and I and the rippling faces of the mosaics.
"I can see the resemblance."
Jareth laughed, harshly, and rested back on his hands. The cloak fell from my shoulders. A chill swept over me. I rubbed my arms.
"Are you scared, Sarah?" he crooned.
"Of what? You? Of course not," I snapped. If anything I was disappointed that one of my favourite fairy tale beings had turned out to have such terrible maternal instincts. "Are all mermaids like that?"
"Like what?" Fabric rustled. I glanced back to see him reclining, head pillowed in his hands. Was he seriously going to sleep in this place? "Awful?"
"Bad mothers."
"It comes with the territory, I believe. Most beings of the sea care little for their offspring."
"Dolphins and whales do. They protect their children for years and some whales even babysit while the mothers go in search of food."
"You might have noticed, but my mother is neither a whale nor a dolphin. She's the culmination of your sailors' dreams and nightmares. She's the siren that bewitches them to their death, over and over again. Commitment is not a big part of her nature." He opened one eye and peered at me. "I'm sure you understand."
I bristled and leapt to my feet. I headed for a mosaic of a mermaid on a rock, singing to a ship at sea. "My mother is wonderful," I said. "She's an actress, everyone knows about her. At the moment she's in this new play called Phantom of the Opera and everyone says she's fantastic."
"She left when you were twelve, did she not?"
I did not answer him, having no intention of being derided. He was a mystical fairy creature who ruled over ragamuffin goblins in the centre of a rundown maze. What did he know about human nature?
He sighed. "Mortals. You cling to what you should rightly forget, even if it hurts."
"It's called love." I traced the edge of a mermaid's profile. Her huge blue eye gazed towards the ship. Her hands reached for it and her hair cascaded to lie in curls on the rock beneath her. She was lovely and cold and distant, and for a second I could swear the hair was black, not blonde, and her eye was dark like in the photographs on my bedside table.
"I wish I was with you," I murmured.
"Be careful what you wish for," he whispered in my ear. I jumped in shock, fell forward, and fell through the mosaic of the mermaid. I didn't even have time to scream.
TOWRTA: Oh look, our first cliffhanger. Sarah has met a cat and dog and siren and griffin and evil snake, plus a dwarf, a gaggle of goblins, and the Goblin King, so what could possibly be waiting for her through that wall? Hmmm . . .
We get to see more of Jareth now and what makes him tick. His Mom's a siren/mermaid/selkie/merrow (I play around with mythology a lot in this, as you see) - who knew?
Let me know what you thought and check back in three days for chapter five.
Love ya :)