Now
Try as she might, Sarah just couldn't stay awake.
The craziness of the evening - the shock of finding herself in the Labyrinth again, the disorienting jumps as the boundaries of that kingdom shifted and the disturbing encounters with Toby and Jareth, both creatures who were revealed to be something other than what they seemed - had left her exhausted. It quickly became apparent to the little worms that sleep would need to be the first order of business.
"Wait," said Sarah, struggling for alertness. She'd been led to a pile of soft ...something... along the far wall, and slightly-damp feeling not-withstanding, sinking into it was very appealing. "I have questions." She glanced at Tim standing quietly against the glittering stones, his neat black hair just brushing the ceiling.
He shrugged, weariness making his rich voice brittle. "I think we both need to rest, Sarah. It's safe enough here. Let's re-group in the morning." Behind him, the little worms smiled kindly and bobbed their bright heads in agreement.
No, I need answers... but darkness was creeping around the edges of her vision and her limbs were melting down into the soft bed. Soon, she was asleep.
Sarah lifted her head in a bright space. She was cocooned in light; a sphere of bright silver threads enclosed her.
"I'm dreaming," she thought, and knew that it was true. She looked around, interested. She'd never been aware of her dreams before. Perhaps the Labyrinth facilitated such things? It was curious and gave her the feeling of Alice, down the rabbit hole.
"You have a choice, Sarah," said a voice behind her.
She spun around and saw two youths, slim and fey-looking. The male, who addressed her, had a shock of bright blue hair. His companion, a girl, had equally brilliant chartreuse hair. They smiled at her and there was something - familiar - about their smiles. "What choice?" she asked.
"You can stay or you can go," said the blue-haired youth. "It's really quite simple."
"But if you stay," said the girl beside him, "then there is something you MUST do."
The pair looked at her expectantly.
Sarah hesitated, feeling drawn-in despite herself. But stay? In the Labyrinth? Why would she do that?
"Well," she said at last, "will you explain what the something is?"
"Sure," said the boy, "if that is your wish."
Sarah smiled and let her curiosity get the better of her once again. "It is," she said. "It really is."
Elsewhere
Hoggle did not pride himself on his intelligence, but if pressed he would admit that you didn't get to be his age in a place like the Labyrinth if you were stupid. Usually.
So when he saw the telltale glitter-and-swish that betrayed Jareth at his most flashy turning a corner just ahead, he was smart enough to realize something was not quite right.
He quickened his pace until he reached the corner. The Goblin King was still close, still within earshot.
I'm going to regret this.
He cupped his hand around his mouth and took a deep breath.
"Sire!" he bellowed. "Your Majesty!"
Ahead in the dim corridor, the bright figure halted.
Hoggle hurried ahead as it began to turn.
What in the Bog's name am I doing? What if he… Hoggle froze.
Jareth was facing him now, leaning forward slightly, his expression perfectly blank.
A thought struck the dwarf like a hammer blow: He doesn't know who I am.
The Goblin King seemed to be waiting for him to speak. "Ah, um..." Hoggle felt sweat breaking out on his forehead; little streams of it collected in the thick ridges there and trickled down to soak his bushy eyebrows.
Something dark moved beneath the surface in the eyes of the figure in front of him, and there was a feeling of something coiled, ready to strike. Lips parted ever so slightly, it leaned forward.
Hoggle turned and ran.
Nearby
It retched, vomiting shadow onto the bedclothes. On and on, the blackness poured from its open mouth; on and on, it spilled forth.
Inside, something twisted. Something strained against the boundary that was its skin. Something was in agony - dying the slowest of deaths.
Beneath it, in the world of wind and rain, the black-haired girl, the Not-Sarah, struggled for air. Perhaps she would die. Perhaps she would live. It didn't really care. It had been duped. It had been poisoned - but it would purge itself of that which was Not.
The crone's fingers moved against the bedclothes; she pushed against the shadow-substance, and traced a pattern, a sigil, that would hold against the encroaching darkness. The shadow pushed back, and burnt her skin, but she ignored it, and struggled to complete the pattern. Hold. She mouthed the words without making a sound. Hold for the king.
It saw her. It felt the sigil flare into being and reacted immediately, becoming a thick cloud of hot, sticky ash and smoke. It was primordial, the stuff of volcanoes and nightmares and the beginning and ending of worlds.
The crone smiled even as her flesh melted, leaving her bones to sink into the shadow.
With a howl, it swallowed what she left and spun itself up and away from the bed. For a moment, it hovered below the ceiling. It still wanted. It still needed.
On the bed, the girl stirred, very close to waking.
It would have liked to take her anyway, not to keep, just to bleed. But the sigil flared like a warning. It would need to look elsewhere.
The shadow-smoke became a snake-like rope that rolled through a crack and was gone.
Above
In the place between the trees, between the forest and the wall, something large moved slowly. It followed a bright thread left for it by a friend. Here and there, pieces of darkness assaulted it. From beneath rocks, inside cracks, little shadow-snakes sprung at it and coiled around its massive legs and powerful arms. It shook them all off as though they were nothing more than strands of cotton.
It walked, after all, among friends - over and above them. It followed its chosen path.
"My noble brother! How fare thee?" Sir Didymus swung down onto the path from a convenient oak tree.
"Broth-er? Didy-mus!" The large creature stopped and allowed the nimble fox to embrace his kneecaps.
"There, there, fine fellow. All a-twitter, are we?" Sir Didymus patted the hairy legs affectionately. "Not to worry, then. You've been doing a fine job."
"Ludo...job," agreed the beast, scratching its furry side with one large paw.
"Yes, yes, a fine job indeed. But there's one more thing you must do, my brother. Sarah needs your help again."
"Saw-rah? Help?" Shaggy brows raised over large and sensitive eyes.
"Indeed. There is a delivery to be made and you, my fine fellow, are the only one who can do it." Sir Didymus gestured to a rocky patch beside him and looked up at his companion. "Would you mind?"
"Sure." Ludo tilted his great head upward and gave a low, moaning howl, not unlike a rather out-of-tune bassoon. Beneath the feet of the little fox, a large boulder rose and boosted him up until he was on level with his larger friend.
"Much better." The little knight's eyes twinkled. He was having a marvelous time, all things considered. He leaned in close to his companion, tugging gently on one great, furry ear. "Listen well, friend," he began, and got to work relaying the message.
Then
Student-teaching was a great trial for Sarah.
She found a placement quickly enough, and she could hardly find fault with either her fellow teachers or the students at the small charter school where she worked. No, her problems stemmed more from her over-active imagination.
Since her encounter beneath the pine tree, her thoughts continually strayed towards the Labyrinth and its inhabitants. She took to sketching them, relying on her own memory to commit them to paper. She carried a sketchbook with her constantly, keeping it bundled with the Shakespeare-themed planner where she compiled her class notes.
In retrospect, it was probably only a matter of time before one of her students found her drawings.
"Are these from a play, Miss Williams?" inquired one of them, flipping through the pages of her book. "A Midsummer Night's Dream maybe?"
Sarah snatched the book and stuffed it into her messenger bag. "That's private," she said primly, but seeing the somewhat chagrined look on the boy's face, allowed herself a small smile. "But no, they're not from any play, just a dream; a dream I once had."
The goblins weren't that easy to capture on paper. They had been so quick, when she was around them. They never seemed to stay in the same place for more than a second. Her impressions had been blurry, and over time, had grown blurrier.
Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus were easier. She had spent several hours in their company - or at least it felt as though she had. Their faces were etched firmly in her mind, as was someone else's.
Him. The Goblin King. She supposed he thought she hadn't really seen him, hadn't understood the temptation he had meant to be for her.
He was wrong.
Her fingers tried, over and over, to draw his likeness. Pencil was all wrong, so was marker. Chalk couldn't do it, neither could paint. Finally, a simple charcoal sketch did it best, rendered his angles, his lean lines, his shadowed face. After she finished his portrait, she turned quickly to a clean, fresh page and left him ignored beneath an exuberant pastel sketch of the fire gang.
Somehow, it seemed fitting.