Sorry, this isn't really a stand-alone chapter. It's not finished, but I haven't got time to finish it. I'm leaving for Africa this weekend. I have manifestly failed to wrap things up before my trip, but this chapter fragment is my pledge to you that I haven't given up on my story - even though it's been more than a month since the last installment. I'll be back at the beginning of August, and hopefully I'll be able to pick up the threads then and turn this into a real chapter. I guess we will see.
UPDATE: This chapter is now finished. I hope you enjoy it, because you won't get another for quite some time. I'm currently in Nairobi where you can find internet hotspots from time to time, but I'm leaving for Sudan tomorrow where there is nadah. Hey, I'd love it if there were some reviews to read when I get back. . .
Chapter Seven: Things That Go BUMP In the Night
Jareth stood in the darkness of the corridor, watching her through the window, with one gloved hand resting against the frame. As she limped away into the darkness a look of irritation crossed his face, followed closely by one of reluctant admiration. Confound the girl! He had gone to a lot of trouble designing this passage. It snaked and looped back on itself elegantly and endlessly. The doors similarly went nowhere. A few led to dead ends, but most led to other eternally weaving corridors, or stairs that climbed or descended forever. It had been designed to be an exercise in futility. It was meant to frustrate her, exhaust her, and, most importantly, keep her inside the castle, at least until morning.
Jareth frowned. He had not meant to allow her to wander in the Labyrinth before dawn. He had spoken no less than the truth: there was nothing friendly about the Labyrinth at night. It had many inhabitants. Some were essentially harmless, like most of those that she had encountered on her last journey through. Others were . . . less harmless. They weren't evil exactly, but nor were they safe, and the night belonged to them. Jareth had given it to them as their time to roam free within the Labyrinth. His other subjects understood this and behaved accordingly, hiding in their dens when the sun set so as not to encounter the creatures that emerged when darkness fell. Even the goblins avoided going out after dark. And here was Sarah, marching off through the goblin city in the dead of night, heedless of the danger.
He sighed. It was the Labyrinth's fault. This window had been none of his doing. The rules had been set long before he ever took up the kingship of the Underground. "There is always a way out in the Labyrinth," he had said, and it was true. If he did not provide one the Labyrinth itself would. He had known it would happen but he had counted on her not figuring it out until morning at the earliest. It had taken her all of two minutes to escape a maze that should have had her wandering for hours. Either she was getting smarter or he was slipping. He shook off this thought quickly, choosing to focus on the situation at hand.
For a moment he considered sending all his creatures back to sleep for one night, but decided against it. Sarah had deliberately ignored his warning, and he had no intention of rewarding her by making everything easy for her. She deserved a good fright or two, and if he cleared the Labyrinth of its nocturnal inhabitants he would also be clearing it of the better part of its obstacles. Knowing Sarah, she would be walking out of the front gate by day-break. If she met one of the more dangerous inhabitants it could always be called to heel before it did her any harm. Besides, the dark-dwellers of the Labyrinth served an important purpose. They held back the even darker creatures that lived outside and which were forever trying to creep in over the Wall – particularly around the northwest corner . . . . Occasionally one of them would manage to do it, despite the vigilance of his night-guards. When this happened Jareth would have to come and banish it to the outside before any great damage was done either to the Labyrinth or to its citizens. However frightening and dangerous his own nocturnal servants were, these outsiders were even more so. They were not his , they showed him no obedience, and over them he had no direct power. They had another master. Sarah would have to be watched carefully – and kept away from the northwest corner if possible. If she was to encounter an intruder he would have to act very quickly indeed.
Sarah's ankle was beginning to really trouble her. Within a very short time it had become stiff and so swollen that she had to loosen the laces of her boot so that the circulation to her foot wasn't cut off. Flexing her ankle had become incredibly painful, so she had to keep it perfectly straight with each step. It wasn't easy. The goblin city was a minefield of rubbish and potholes, and in the darkness it was difficult to judge her footing.
As she limped through the city, Sarah was at first surprised and then progressively unnerved by the silence. The ramshackle houses and towers were all boarded up tightly, the windows were darkened, and no sounds came from within. She would have thought that the entire place was deserted if it weren't for the occasional gleam of yellow eyes peering down at her over a window sill or from behind a ragged curtain. As soon as her eyes met them they would instantly vanish, only to return once she had passed.
The silence seemed to Sarah to gather and intensify the longer it remained unbroken. There were no night noises: neither the chirping of crickets and the squeaking of bats nor the sounds of a city at night. She shivered. Already Jareth's threats seemed to be coming true. This quiet was creepier than almost anything that she had encountered the last time through. Finally, out of desperation she started racking her brains for a song to break the stillness. Something cheerful and rousing and devil-may-care.
She couldn't think of anything. It was as if she had forgotten every song she ever knew. The silence was echoing in her mind.
Sarah shook herself. She couldn't fall apart like this. Nothing had even happened to her yet. She had to show Jareth that she wasn't afraid of him or of his precious Labyrinth. She must not show that she was afraid. For all she knew he was watching her right now. The thought made the back of her neck prickle unpleasantly and she glanced over her shoulder involuntarily. There was nothing there. Still, once the idea had taken hold it wouldn't be shaken off.
Well, Sarah thought grimly, if he is watching I might as well take this opportunity to show him exactly what I think of him and his protection. She lifted her chin to a more defiant angle and after a determined mental effort found a song that expressed her feelings to perfection.
Never smile at a crocodile
No you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Don't be taken in by his welcome grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin
Never smile at a crocodile
Never tip your hat and stop to talk a while
Never run
Walk away
Say "good-night"
Not "good-day"
Clear the aisle and never smile at Mr. Crocodile.
She sang as loudly and jauntily as she could muster. By the end of the verse she was even beginning to smile a bit, picturing what Jareth's reaction might be if he should happen to be listening. She drew a deep breath before launching into the second verse, and as she did she heard a sound behind her. Footsteps.
All Sarah's defiance drained away in an instant while the hair rose on the back of her neck. To the ears they were just ordinary footsteps, but she felt herself going cold with disproportionate fear. There was something inexpressibly sinister about the sound. She felt a terrible urge to run away from whoever or whatever was behind her. Looking back she thought she saw a shadow moving slowly among the other, more stationary shades.
She increased her pace, trying to stay calm. She mustn't show fear. She mustn't. If she showed fear she gave him power. The footsteps continued. Their pace remained the same, but their owner seemed to stay the same distance behind her, even as she struggled to walk faster.
Sarah's heart was pounding painfully. Her ankle throbbed terribly as she stumbled along. There had been one night a few months ago – she had tried to forget. She had gone out on a date and left early in disgust. It had been dark, and there were footsteps behind her, just like these. It was the same sound, the same feeling, the same panic bubbling up inside.
Without thinking she cut down a side alley, trying to shake off whoever was following her. The sound continued. Looking back again she thought she glimpsed movement. It looked closer than before.
That night she had tried to shake off pursuit, dodging down side streets. Stopping to listen. Hearing the footsteps. Running on. She had looked so desperately for someone to help her, but there had been no one. Finally she had come across a run-down convenience store where she had found an off-duty cop with a beer-gut and an untidy beard leaning against the counter drinking stale coffee and swapping dirty jokes with the cashier. She'd never been so glad to see anyone before. He had grudgingly taken her to her apartment, obviously thinking that the whole thing was in her head. She hadn't cared. She'd been so happy to get home.
This time there would be no cop and no squad car to carry her out of harm's way. She was alone in the dark with the footsteps. The thought was too much for her. She broke into a clumsy run, panting, fear overriding the pain that shot through her ankle. She didn't get far. She tripped over a pile of bricks, twisting her ankle painfully and sprawling headlong. The footsteps were coming closer, and she couldn't rise. Like a child, she curled up on the hard ground where she lay and closed her eyes tightly as though she believed that if she couldn't see it, it couldn't see her. She could hear it coming closer.
"B'Gad, Brother Knight! There's another one!" piped a shrill voice from somewhere ahead of her. Sarah's eyes snapped open. She knew that voice!
"Begone blaggard! Get thee hence! Or thou shalt feel the point of my rapier!" Sarah raised her head, pushing herself up on one elbow, just in time to see the ludicrous sight of a small fox dressed in battered armour, twirling a rapier and mounted on a shaggy sheepdog, charging past.
"Fly coward! If thou wilt live thou shalt depart forthwith!" it exclaimed excitedly, flourishing the rapier.
"Sir Didymous!" Sarah cried, joyfully.
He stopped in mid-flourish, swinging his mount around "My Lady?"
The sheepdog caught sight of her and bounded back towards her, barking excitedly. Suddenly, out of nowhere a pair of big furry arms reached down and lifted her effortlessly from the ground.
"Sawah!"
"Ludo!"
"My Lady!"
Sarah looked up into the big, furry face of the enormous beast that was cradling her gently in its arms, and promptly burst into tears.
*In case you're interested, the beastie that was following Sarah was a Karakoncolos. In Bulgarian folklore Karakoncolos are ghouls who stalk people in the dark. They are described as "merely troublesome and rather harmless."
