First of all...wow. Your encouragement and continued support for this story is enough to make me cry(and then stay up ALL NIGHT to work like a mad woman on it, haha). Really, I'm so thankful to have all you loyal reviewers and fans. There was email from coming out of my ears.

My favorite part was probably the goblin names. They were shipped magically Aboveground, though there might have been an incident or two involving the bubble wrap and packaging peanuts. If they have somehow escaped, I owe all of you a large chocolate cake that Jareth pops out of. Fair?

I have finished this story, saved to my computer, so no worries about it never seeing completion. Not sure how long editing will take, but I love you all too much to torture you by witholding chapters. I am not that evil. Ahem. Chapter eleven!

E. Jane


XI

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

The Labyrinth had only received a small taste of the darkness days before. It had pried apart the rocks of the stone maze and bubbled to the surface, patient in its efforts.

Not now. The demon's new curse sent veins springing up all over the Underground. They ripped and tore at the earth, swallowing up unsuspecting homes, and the creatures were thrown into a dizzying panic. Rulers from every corner of the strange, magical world were ordering evacuations and sending distressed calls to the Goblin throne.

For many, it was too late. The Fae had some manner of protection with the light inside of them. Others were not so lucky. The centaurs, elves, gnomes, nymphs, dwarves, and countless others ran for their lives. Those that survived were horrified at the destruction and the continual loss of loved ones. Already a large number had been dragged beneath the surface to the bowels of Hell. Families were broken, lives destroyed. Seemingly normal parts of the earth quaked with the poison and dumb animals howled in grief.

Brock was going to throw himself out of the tower window.

Rulers had begun to demand that the Goblin King rectify the situation. Even now the veins were breaking off to ravage deeper into various territories, webbing the kingdoms under a strangling net. The citizens sought refuge in the inhabitable places, but those were fast dwindling. Monarchs were literally banging on the doors of the Labyrinth. And he could do nothing.

The goblins scattered at the chaos. It was more than they knew what to do with. Their stand-in king did not have the power to magic any of the rulers through the Labyrinth to the castle. Only Jareth had say in who was magically summoned, and all others were made to face the maze's trials. Now the crude joke was taking its toll. A select few attempted the run, but gave in and retreated in a rage. Most did not make it past the outer walls. With mounting dismay Brock relayed his predicament and returned their letters, clearly stating with a heavy heart, that he had absolutely no power to bind the veins. That task fell to two alone, who were already engrossed in a journey of the same nature.

Their response was nearly riotous. Fear quickly morphed into twisted, misplaced anger. Creatures of every race imaginable could no longer be contained by the scattered rule of their kings and queens. They wanted action, and they wanted it now. Only one option was feasible.

Appeal to the Council.


The crystal that materialized in front of Jareth's nose startled him enough that he nearly toppled from the dragon's back. He had given Brock temporary powers to form and send the orbs, but only under the direst of circumstances. "Brock," he barked, "what is it?"

"Majesty, forgive me," the general bowed. Behind him a number of goblins could be seen rolling and tumbling about the throne room. "An emergency situation has occurred." Jareth noted that his stand-in seemed terribly pale.

"Well?"

"There have been a reported..." He glanced down to consult a piece of parchment. "Seven new dark veins. All in scattered locations throughout the Underground."

"What?"

It was Sarah's turn to nearly lose her seat. So far she had not even been aware of the conversation, blocked by the fierce wind. "What? What is it?"

"You majesty, all the kingdoms have very nearly collapsed from the destruction. Homes are ruined, the citizens cannot be restrained. They have all marched for the Isle."

"The Isle?" Jareth shouted incredulously. "What do they think Larimon can do for them? He has no power in this matter, however badly he wishes it," came the growl. "What of the rulers now? Have they already retreated to their respected hovels?"

"I'm afraid many of the rulers, after losing control over their subjects...fled Aboveground." Brock's face was apologetic, as if all the blame belonged to him. "There was nothing I could do to stop them."

"The cowards." He ignored Sarah tugging lightly on his cloak.

"Jareth, what's wrong?" She still couldn't hear anything, nor see the crystal, but the Goblin King's back had turned rigid with anger.

"They demanded that you leave the vein in the Shadowed Pass," the general continued, "as it is uninhabited. If you could bind the lesser veins in the kingdoms, then the one in the pass could be dealt with afterwards. I told them that it would be an unwise idea."

"Yes," Jareth mused. "I don't understand how seven veins could break through so quickly, in rapid succession. Never in recorded history has there been such an outbreak."

"I have wondered the same thing, your majesty."

Sighing, Jareth whistled before the dragon swept down into a descent. "Thank you for alerting me, Brock. I will contact you once a plan has been formed."

The general nodded and the orb burst.

Spiral upon spiral they descended until the dragon touched down lightly atop a hill. Ahead mountainous outlines could be seen against the grey sky. Clouds hung like stretched cotton, blocking any trace of blue or sunlight. The air was frostily silent. Sarah watched Jareth practically jump from the beast's back before pushing a windblown hair behind her ear and following. "Something's wrong." It was not a question. His eyes were hard, smooth jaw set. All of his motions jerked as Jareth began a steady pace from the dragon's snout to her, then back again.

"Brock has just informed me of new ruptures. Multiple dark veins."

"Multiple?" Sarah blinked. "How many?"

There was the slightest moment of hesitation before he continued his pacing. "If we include the vein in the Shadowed Pass...there are eight." Behind him the cloak flicked in irritation with each turn. Sarah gasped with the information, drawing her own cloak tighter in the chill, but he never noticed. "How could this have happened...it doesn't make any sense. There's no way the layer of magic separating Hell from the Underground could have been breached in so many places. Not simultaneously."

Sarah worried that the ground would begin to spark with Jareth's agitation. Not to mention the friction his boots were wearing on the thin layer of grass. "What can we do?"

"Do?" he laughed. "Do...we will exhaust ourselves chasing down every blasted rupture in the Underground." Abruptly the Goblin King stopped and looked heavenward. The dreary sky offered no advice, only an infuriatingly calm breeze. "No, I am not being logical. Something must have triggered the veins...so many..." His rambling had turned to muttering, and Sarah withdrew to the wings of the dragon. Its large body acted as a nice barrier to the cool wind. Seeing Jareth this way was like watching an animated child worry over a puzzle. You could tell it enthralled him, no matter how aggravating. "There has to be a link, an explanation..."

An unexpected surge of excitement coursed through Sarah. Maybe it was her love for adventure, or a challenge, deflated for so many years Aboveground. The opportunity to finally play the heroine was fast becoming one of her favorite parts of living Underground. More than that, though, was a nagging sensation in the pit of her stomach. It could take weeks, months, even, to bind eight veins. Months that she had alone with Jareth, without having to choose between the castle or a cottage, without conflicting emotions.

Although, as of now she felt dirty. It had been quite a while since her last bath. They had been attacked, traveled, and spent the night in a smelly inn. Every hair on her head felt as if it needed to be chemically sterilized. On the way down Sarah had glimpsed a small stream, perfect for a quick wash. "Jareth?" He continued on to himself, oblivious. "Goblin King!"

With a start he jerked from his thoughts and halted his pacing. "What is it?"

"I'm going down to the stream to clean up. I"ll take the dragon with me," she rushed, seeing his face harden with trepidation, "and I'll yell if I need you." Obviously he needed some time to muddle through his perplexing self-debate anyway.

Curtly he nodded and continued his pacing. "Don't take too long. The water is most likely frigid." She nodded and gave the dragon a light pat on the neck, motioning toward the stream. "And Sarah."

For a fleeting second their gazes locked before Jareth's eyes softened. Quietly Sarah nodded a second time and turned away, trying unsuccessfully to hide the smattering of warmth on her cheeks.

Once she had disappeared down the hill Jareth mumbled a quiet, "Be careful," before resuming his stride.


It was only a matter of minutes until she reached the small stream. Around the bank grew clumps of wild looking trees, skinny, and full of green needles. The air was spiked with a clean, sharp scent. Ever curious and restless, the dragon meandered a ways down the bank, sniffing up into branches that harbored some critter. After rummaging through the pack, Sarah retrieved a coarse towel, clean garments, and the blue jar of salve. Her wound was most likely beyond the time for redressing. A few bandages found their way atop her garments.

While her hand was in the bag, it closed around a small pouch. She pulled it out to see the same one Lyra had given her. Frowning, Sarah opened it up and peeked inside. It was stocked full of the capsules, individual packets of sleep, and a wave of guilt nearly strangled her. "Sorry, Lyra," she sighed, upending the open pouch over the stream. Each pill bobbed as the current carried them away around a bend. "You probably took a lot of time to make those. But I'll manage."

Stripping in a foreign, unguarded place was an action Sarah was loathe to take, but she felt so grimy... Within minutes her garments were folded neatly on the pebbled bank. Hesitantly she dipped a toe into the water and barely contained her yelp of surprise. "Dear Lord...he was right." Grumbling to herself, she muttered, "Why can't my magic do anything useful? Well, besides forming weapons, but that took some help." Down the bank the dragon dipped its head in agreement. Or maybe the critter in the tree had shifted. "I wish the water was warm," Sarah huffed while wrapping her arms about herself, "so that I could take a decent bath. Who knows how long it'll be before I get another opportunity?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Sarah felt the ground shift beneath her. The movement was slight, hardly noticeable, and yet faint curls of steam could be seen rising from the water. "No way." This time she plunged her entire foot into the stream. "Wow...I..." Stepping into the flow of water, Sarah marveled at the improved temperature. In the back of her mind a red flag had risen, telling her she was a foolish git, especially after her experience with the words, 'I wish,' but the water was too nice. It took everything in her power to summon the will to go back ashore and retrieve the soap before sinking farther into the current.


A thin line of grass had turned into worn dirt. Jareth's boots trod the same place time and time again, turning into an anxious rhythm. Out loud he continued to mull over the situation.

"Not in any of my teachings...eight...a link...incredibly fast..."

He was well aware of the rules of the darkness. Evil was not attuned to magic, and never had been. One reason that Hell's inhabitants fared so well Aboveground was due to the purely human energy. Nature, something with human and magical elements, was often used to the advantage of both Hell and the Underground. Jareth saw the new veins as a kind of spreading infection, a disease, but the wind could not carry it. Nor could the water. So how had it swept his world so quickly? No answer came to him, and the Goblin King remained helplessly baffled.

"An element of nature that could be molded to extend the darkness. If that is true," he mused, turning on his heel to stalk in the other direction, "then there must be a point of origin. But where?"

A muffled shriek struck his ears through the still air. Instantly every muscle in his body tensed with mounting adrenaline, that cry was familiar...


Unbelievable. Simply amazing. Sarah's mind was having difficulty just processing it.

The light had started as a trickling glow through the scruffy trees. White, intense, so pure it had almost blinded her. Her surprised scream was only expected after the previous attack, but quickly turned into a gasp of wonder. For before her was no threat, no harmful monster with razored claws. In front of her was another childhood fantasy brought to life.

Gracefully the unicorn moved into full view on the opposite bank. Its coat was a shining pearl, making the flowing mane and beard almost indistinguishable. The cloven hooves stepped lightly to the water's edge, the horn's steady glow fading to a dull illumination, and it nickered a soft greeting. No storybook could ever have depicted the glory that Sarah saw before her. This unicorn was more than a simple horse with a horn...it was fantastical, chimerical, ethereal. She found herself rising out of the water with great care, not wanting to scare it away. If she could touch it-

Crashing leaves and brush caused both figures to spin before Sarah ducked back into the water. The noise was thunderous in the still atmosphere, and Jareth sprung onto the bank, skidding pebbles in his haste.

"Sarah!" he said loudly before his gaze widened. She returned an equally loud, "Jareth!" and wrapped her arms about herself with a splash.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah continued, her voice rising with every syllable.

Jareth blinked, gaze flitting to the unicorn. It seemed he was at a loss for words until he bellowed, "Damn it, Sarah, I thought something happened to you! Yelling like a banshee!"

"I'm fine! Go away so I can finish my bath!"

The magical creature watched the words fly with only the flick of its lion tail. Never did it betray an ounce of fear at the outbursts. Quizzically it watched the heated, if somewhat comical, exchange. Down the bank the dragon sniffed the air, turned, and sprung into the sky.

"You astound me," Jareth snorted, walking toward the bank. "The most innocent creature in the entire Underground caused you to panic." He folded his arms. "And running me off so soon? This morning you seemed all too..."

Confused, Sarah watched as his face turned from sarcastic to bewildered. His mismatched eyes darted between the girl and the beast. A little irritated, she snapped, "What?"

"You..." Jareth mumbled. "Sarah. No one can lure a unicorn except-"

"Yes, yes, I know," she sighed. God, didn't he remember she had read every fairytale book ever written? "The unicorn is only tamable by a virgin maiden. There, I am familiar with my magical creatures. So leave already?"

She did not fully comprehend the value of her words. Jareth felt a swell of elation. It had never occurred to him the amount of jealousy that one soul could possess, but the thought of Sarah intimate with any other man sent his mind reeling into a blind fury. There was so much relief...

He realized that had there been any others, they would be marked men. Deceased within the hour. The Goblin King would be damned if he was not her first, her last, and her only.

Ignoring her urge for his departure, he said, "The horn can heal wounds."

Sarah peered down to the water that was hiding the rest of her body. "Even one by iron?" She looked up to find Jareth nodding. Thoughtfully she bit her lip and glanced at the beast. It wasn't that she was self conscious. No, Sarah had had enough practice with exposing her body. But...this was Jareth. Fine time for her modesty to show, she reprimanded herself, especially after her passionate impulse hours before. "Turn around."

"Turn around?" he repeated. A small frown graced his mouth. "What for?"

"Well, if you aren't going to turn around, then magic my clothes on!" she sighed. Sarah refused to be bare in front of those haunting mismatched eyes, unless he was stripped as well. It was only fair.

"Absolutely not. You'll catch hypothermia from wet garments." Was that the hint of a twinkle in his eye? The curl of his lip?

The authoritative tone was enough to make her growl into the stream. "Goblin King, the water is warm as Hades. And don't you have a drying spell?"

For the first time Jareth noticed the wisps of steam rising from the water. "This stream flows straight from the mountain. Melted snow would be like ice," he argued.

"Well," Sarah shrugged, "I fixed it. Clothes?"

They were going to have to have a talk. Jareth never expected for Sarah to tap into other areas of her magic so easily, nor had she been informed of the consequences that often came with a spelled action. But right now she was being particularly stubborn. "Very well." He only hoped that nothing drastic had been affected by her whim for warm bath water. A snap of his fingers had the girl dressed in the garments previously lying on the bank.

Familiarizing herself with the weighty movement of wet clothes, Sarah pushed the hair back from her face and waded closer to the opposite bank. The unicorn had waited for her attentions and lowered its muzzle to her face. "Hello," she mumbled softly.

Jareth studied the water with fascination. How in the Underground had she managed that? Usually it took the shifting of some other force-concentrated sunlight, the like-to warm such a large amount of water. Today, though, the sun was hidden. Then...

Flashes, snippets of his education long since past, tumbled through his mind. Maps, texts, lectures. "Sarah Williams!" came the shout, and she twisted clumsily in the water, outstretched hand inches from the unicorn. A startled yelp escaped her as Jareth bounded into the stream and crashed to her side. "You beautiful creature, you've solved all our problems!" he laughed before grabbing her waist and lifting her into the air.

"What are you talking about?" she yelled over the noise. Gently he placed her back into the stream.

"Don't you see? This water," he smiled, splashing her with a sprinkle, "did not just simply turn warm. Something heated it. And that," Jareth pointed into the distance, "is not just a mountain. Sleeping, inside that giant slice of rock, is a dormant volcano. Ha!"

"That's great," Sarah nodded warily in his arms, "but how does it solve our problem?"

The unicorn pawed at the bank and flipped its mane. Neither seemed to take notice of its impatience.

He shook a few dripping locks out of his eyes. "The fact that every volcano bleeds rivers of molten lava beneath the ground is vastly significant. It is the only possible way that the darkness spread so fast...the vein in the pass must have leaked to the other ruptures. If we can bind that vein," Jareth pointed, shifting her weight to float against him in the water, "then we bind them all."

Jareth would always amaze her. He never failed to unravel the fuzziest of riddles. She guessed that living for several centuries could give someone that ability. "Great." There went months of the Goblin King's uncompromised company. Her tone sounded flat, so she repeated, "That's great," with a bit more enthusiasm.

"I would kiss you right this instant," he admitted archly, "if we wouldn't wind up on the other side of the Underground." Reluctantly his arms sent her afloat in the water, and he nudged her toward the shore.

She could not let her disappointment smother her duty. Who was she to put her selfish desires over the entire Underground? Of course this was a good thing. Shaking her head, Sarah turned once more to the unicorn.

Jareth's euphoric moment dissipated into an icy calm. He had not noticed the unicorn's eyes before now, how dark they were. "Sarah."

The velvet snout was only inches from her fingers. To finally stroke the pristine coat of this wonderful beast would very nearly make her life complete. She laughed inwardly to think of the stories she might have told Toby. Maybe, one day-

"Sarah." His voice became more urgent. The unicorn was near to kneeling in its effort to close the space between it and the girl. Barely making a sound, Jareth reached out and settled his hands on her waist. "Back up. Now." In spite of his slight tug she resisted and stretched her fingers a little more.

Unicorns were supposed to have eyes deep and blue as the sea. Not cold obsidian orbs. Jareth's blood turned to ice. It was not possible that the darkness had already infected beasts in the surrounding area...was it? As if to answer his question, the shadow in the creature's eye deepened and spread until its coat became a dull grey.

Sarah blinked and the unicorn seemed less...pure, somehow. Gradually it was becoming darker and darker, shading the mane and beard as well. Pulling her hand back, she was startled into Jareth when the beast snorted and snapped its teeth. The barest hint of wild fang could be seen, sharp and hungry. On its head the horn's glow flickered and died. This was not right... Jareth took a step, she took a step. He took another, she took another.

The horn fell away with a dull thud to the ground, a long crack snapping it in two. The coat streaked with deep, dark black. It reared on its legs with a scream, hooves tearing at the air, and Sarah let Jareth drag her from the water. Hastily they scrambled onto the other bank while it paced in agitation.

"What just-" she started, but Jareth silenced her with one hand and looked down the river.

"Where is that dragon when you need him?" he swore. "We've got to get out of here before..." A string of expletives followed as they watched the unicorn toss its head and jump into the stream.

She nearly swore herself at the yank on her arm. Before she knew it they were hurtling through the trees at breakneck speed, jumping logs, the twigs and brush scratching like claws. "I don't understand!" she panted. The wet clothes were sticking and weighing her down. In the distance pounding hooves could be heard. Gaining on them.

He stopped with a jerk and pulled Sarah to a tree. "Get up," he commanded. "It won't be able to reach us, and until that dragon shows we cannot travel, especially not on foot." Even calls sent through his pendant could not make the dragon come, probably due to the power of the dark vein so close at hand. No doubt the tainted unicorn had run him off in the first place.

Sarah was not fond of climbing trees. Reluctantly she accepted the boost Jareth offered and hauled herself up onto the lowest branch, something the girl had not done since her fall from an oak at twelve. She only made it up three before deciding enough was enough, and settled herself tightly on a wonderfully sturdy branch. Jareth joined her with a feline-like leap.

Underneath them the dark unicorn grumbled a neigh of displeasure. A few times it circled the trunk, tossing its black mane in anger, before snorting and trotting in the opposite direction.

"What was that about?" Sarah frowned.

"Our situation may be more dire than I at first thought," Jareth admitted. Carefully he settled in the tree, watching the girl farther out on the limb. "It seems that the vein in the Shadowed Pass is more destructive, enough to trick and lure even the most intelligent of creatures." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "The sooner we bind the darkness, the better."

Thoughtfully she looked to the ground. It seemed unbearably far away, and she calculated that a fall would result in several painful injuries. "Why didn't you use Liuhath to..." How could she say it? "Take care of the unicorn?" A few droplets of water splatted from her dripping clothes onto the dirt.

The Goblin King shook his head and twisted his wrist. In the branch above him appeared the pack. "Using Liuhath would alert the darkness to our presence. While likely that it has already sensed us so near, it would be best not to take any unnecessary actions."

"And the dragon's alright?" Sarah wondered aloud. If the vein could take a unicorn, surely it could take her scaly friend.

"Yes," Jareth chuckled, "I believe the coward smelled danger and took flight. Dragons have a rather large sense of self-preservation. We probably will not find him until the sun rises again."

"It's gotten colder." Of course the dripping clothes did not help, but the wind in the trees had escalated. The dying sun couldn't penetrate the clouds, let alone the foliage. "We should get down and start a fire."

Remembering himself, Jareth waved a hand and the pair was dry. "We cannot camp on the ground tonight, Sarah. That unicorn is probably not the only beast to be infected."

Frowning, she turned to see him better on the branch. "Not camp on the ground? How will we sleep?"

It was very difficult for Jareth not to smile openly at his good fortune. Easily he reclined against the tree and stretched his legs along the branch.

Blinking, Sarah took one look at the Goblin King and said, "No. No. I can't sleep in a tree," she hissed. "I'll fall over in the middle of the night and break every bone in my body!"

"Sarah," he purred, "come here." Softly he patted the spot between his knees. "No use arguing, love."

Oh, that wicked, wicked Fae... Grudgingly Sarah scooted down the branch and leaned back against Jareth's chest. "Don't you dare let go of me," she muttered as he put his arms around her. Gingerly she stretched out her legs as well, testing the branch.

He bent his knee on one side before mumbling a soft, "Never," into her hair. Magically a blanket unfurled from the pack and floated down to cover the pair. The world was thick with dark shadows, the sun leaving behind a waning moon to stand guard over the night. Slightly ashamed at her own school-girl hormones, Sarah was glad for the lack of light when she leaned farther back into him. Underneath her Jareth sighed a deep, heavy breath. "Never."


The Isle had always been home to one thing and one thing alone. The House of the Council was a structure of grand stones and windows, a rather elaborate affair, situated on a tiny spit of land in the ocean. Its location had been ideal for means of both seclusion and mystery, things unanimously agreed upon by the esteemed members. Every kingdom had appointed a leader to sit at the semicircle table and enforce a somewhat common law. While not binding, and merely a base for suggestion of improvement, the Council had quickly grown corrupt with mounting power. It was not long before it had its own army and a will strong enough to compel even the most stubborn of rulers.

And, until this day, not a soul had challenged them.

Every inch of shore was covered in vessels. Creatures from each kingdom had stormed onto land and marched to the heavy doors of the dwelling. Loudly they banged, screeching for counsel, for help...

Larimon had not expected his master to act so swiftly. Nor had he thought to escape punishment for his assassin's failed attempt. The mistake would not be repeated. Donning his most exquisite robes, he flung wide the windows from his tower room. Below the mob swarmed to better yell up at him. Cries for deliverance, of their plight, fairly made his ears bleed.

"Citizens of the Underground!" he called. Immediately the crowd fell silent. "I have received word of your heartache and destruction. Tell me...where are your rulers, so that we might formulate a plan to regain control of our world?" Only shouts of abandonment followed. Of course, Larimon already knew all that had happened. He found that it helped to tap into the emotions of a mass, particularly when persuasion was the main goal. For a second the Chancellor let a clear streak of pain and fury mark his features before visibly pulling himself together. "Now hear this! Loyal inhabitants of the Underground, you will not be forsaken! The time is dark, but our hearts are not. I will contact the Goblin King and demand he control the situation. Did his forefathers not succeed in the same task?" An appreciative murmur followed. "In the event that he and the Labyrinth's Champion are unsuccessful, I will personally take on the responsibility of binding the veins. There will be hope this day!"

Loud cheers nearly caused the ground to quake and the water ripple.

"And have no fear of wayward kingdoms. Your rulers may have shown true cowardice towards your people, but has the Council not always shown honor to our duty? Each respected kingdom will once again have order, and homes, and we will mend the broken pieces of our lives."

Chanting swelled from the heart of the crowd until it became a monstrous roar. Calls for celebration and praise of the merciful High Chancellor.

He could taste the title of Emperor on the air.


The light thrumming noise beneath her ear was a steady, musical beat. Sarah found that she enjoyed listening to it. A small sigh escaped her at the warmth and comfort, and she snuggled farther into the softness. It even smelled nice here, with the scent of the outdoors mingling with an alien spice. Yes, she could sleep for a very long time.

"I have been thinking."

Underneath her head the warmth shifted. The thrumming became more distinct. Thinking? It was too early to think.

"Jareth, go back to sleep."

A gloved hand smoothed the hair away from her neck. "What would you think of a greenhouse behind the castle? You could grow anything from the Underground or Aboveground that your heart desired." The lips so close to her ear tickled, so she turned her face toward the teasing breath. Before her was a fuzzy tangle of blond when she opened her eyes. "That way you can work year round."

"If I say yes," she mumbled into his shirt, "will you let me go back to sleep?"

The chuckle would have tumbled them both from the branch had the Goblin King's hold not been so firm. "Only for a little while." His voice turned serious. "Eventually we have to face the day."

"No," Sarah yawned back. Her arms tightened a bit over his own. "Don't leave me until the sun comes up."

"Leave?" She felt his chin rest on her shoulder and a cool cheek press into her neck. "I never said I was leaving."


Finally the goblins had been banned from the throne room. Brock needed some quiet to himself while he waited for Jareth's call. Being a general, he delighted in plans, and bumbling blindly into a situation caused him immense panic. He did not like the way things had gone, not at all, and waiting helplessly was worse. The entire thing was a mess. How had this happened? Dejectedly Brock rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. The Underground had been thrown into anarchy...darkness crept ever closer...his king was not to be heard from...

"Brock."

Snapping his eyes open, the general rushed with relief to the throne where an orb was hanging.

"Majesty," he sighed. "Thank goodness."

In the orb a rumpled Goblin King could be seen leaning against a large tree. Behind him was the girl, clearly lecturing the dragon. "Go to the library. I need you to confirm something for me."

"Certainly." Swiftly he grabbed the orb, then reappeared amidst the shelves of books.

After several minutes of digging, flipping, prying, and sneezing, Brock brought forth a dusty volume. Pages threatened to tear loose with his gentle turning. "Here it is, a map of the mountain range. Yes, the Shadowed Pass is marked." Carefully he turned the orb over the yellowed page, letting his king observe it.

"And you are sure that each red mark is a river of molten rock under the ground?"

"That is what the key says, your majesty," Brock nodded, tracing the spidery lines with a finger. There were quite a few.

"Brock, listen carefully to me," Jareth instructed. Speedily he conveyed his theory to the general. With relief Brock slumped against the table the text rested on. "Send messengers to every kingdom and village in between. I want them to know there may be hope yet."

"Right away!" he sighed happily. For the love of the Underground...the stress felt a bit alleviated.

As soon as the orb was gone Brock bounded to the doors of the library, silently calculating the number of messengers he would need. In his haste the shadow behind the tapestry was overlooked, and the knife at his throat was unavoidable.

"Now, now," a snake-like voice hissed into his ear. A painful twist on his arm nearly sent the trained warrior to his knees. "No need to involve my iron blade. But we cannot have the Chancellor's plans go amiss." Struggling slightly, Brock winced at the tiny slice the knife caused his skin. "You know," the voice continued, "the Goblin Kingdom is the only land without representation on the Council. Should you be willing..."

"Never," Brock spat. The powerful figure behind him caused a shooting twinge in his back. Above all things, the general was a loyal soul. "Go to He-"

A sickening slice preceded the thump of a motionless body on the wooden floor. "Then you shall be the first from the Goblin Kingdom to taste death." The dark figure, nothing more than a vague shadow and tricks of light, knelt by Brock's head. "Oh, yes, the Fae can die, I assure you," he laughed. On the floor blood pooled, the general's wide eyes flickering with questions. "For eons the proper methods have merely escaped your knowledge." With a sweep of his black cloak Brock disappeared, leaving the quiet library empty.


The sun was once again elusive that morning. Thankfully they awoke a second time to find the dragon curled contentedly around the trunk of the tree, and Sarah made sure that he was aware of her displeasure.

"No more running off like that." The way she whispered the words and patted his neck was a direct contradiction. Besides, he was purring again. "Couldn't you have just gobbled up that mean old unicorn, hmm? Oh, quit, I'm supposed to be mad at you!" she laughed when he nuzzled her hand. "Because of you I had to sleep in a tree."

"Oh, yes," Jareth drawled as he walked to her side. The crystal he had been using to communicate with Brock burst in a shower of glitter. "It was a terrifying experience," he mumbled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "wasn't it?"

Sarah couldn't help but smile and lean into his side. "I'll never be the same again."

They climbed aboard the dragon and took off toward the mountainous outline. As they drew nearer the air acquired a frosty edge. Luckily Jareth had insisted on adding layers of the clothes Margaret had packed, and the wind was not unbearable. Glinting tips of white snow could be seen dotting the range. Higher and higher they flew, until the thinning trees below them seemed nothing more than toothpicks. Steadily they ascended one side of the mountain and Sarah tightened her grip. She remembered Lyra's warning about falling from a dragon's back thousands of feet up a mountain, and really didn't want to experience it firsthand.

The closer they got to the peak, the colder and thinner the air became. Sarah's ears even popped before the dragon tilted its wings to dive and fly along the length of the mountain chain. Below them were rocks and a few grubby bushes, but no other life could be seen. Finally they spotted it, tucked back between the largest tower of rock and one slightly smaller-a saddle, a dip, in the land. A pass.

"There it is," Jareth whispered to himself. Neither of them heard the words before the wind flung them down and away. But Sarah could tell. The pass was covered in a thick, heavy shadow. True there was little sunlight on this day, but there should have been a hint of sight. It was as if the way through the mountains had been deliberately darkened and all other areas lightened.

A low whistle from the Goblin King prompted the dragon to fly a bit lower. Obviously they could not descend directly into the darkness. He wanted to survey the land, try and detect any kind of movement, a way that they could have the element of surprise. After several circles he whistled again and the dragon swerved. It raced back down the rocky slopes, eager to move away from the darkness and the vile energy pulsing around the place, and made the return journey in almost half the time.

It landed close to the base of the tallest mountain, furled its wings, and gave a great rumbling shudder of its body. "Steady..." Jareth eased.

"What's wrong with him?" Sarah shivered. Her teeth were chattering despite the warm garments.

Jareth slid from the dragon and helped her down. "It's the dark vein in the pass. Even though we could not see it, as it was covered in shadow, he can feel it." His cheeks were blushed a fine pink from the wind and cold, and Sarah couldn't help to marvel at how it almost made him look...human. "His instincts were telling him to run the entire time. I would be worried if they didn't. Besides," he continued, "even without the vein, there are things to be cautious of."

Together they watched the dragon move farther away, distancing itself from the mountain, and toss its head in vexation. She dreaded the undead Jareth had shown her in the crystal. No wonder the poor beast could barely contain himself. A quick glance upward was fruitless in her efforts to guess the time of day. Surely they had been on the dragon for quite a while, but how many hours was incalculable.

While Sarah thought to herself Jareth walked around to the pack on her back. After digging and pushing things around he brought out her bow and quiver. "Here," he said, handing them over her shoulder. Liuhath followed and he watched her turn to him.

She seemed to understand that now was the time to fulfil her duty. Her face hardened slightly, the quiver found its place over one shoulder, and she nodded to the other Fae before her. It pained him deeply. He had brought this burden upon her, years and years before he had fallen in love with the girl. Sarah's life could have been simple, normal, bereft of magic, and she would have at least been happy in ignorance. Fate, as always, seemed to find it a rare occasion to bestow happiness upon a soul without some price. Resigning himself to the inevitable, just like he had time and time again when faced with his own shortcomings, Jareth returned the nod and looked to the dragon.

"Come now, friend. Only a little farther," he beckoned as a father would to a scared child. "I believe your lady could use a protector."

Sarah's lips turned up at the corner and she placed a hand on Jareth's shoulder. "Maybe two."

He turned at the unexpected gesture. "Then two it shall be."

If a dragon could whimper and grumble, theirs surely would have. Jareth gave the creature a fierce look before turning and leading Sarah to the mountain. Though, they were walking away from the pass.

"Jareth," she frowned, "the pass is in the other direction."

A secretive grin revealed his teeth. "I know."


The looking pool had been still and silent for a rather long time. It was putting Larimon on edge. He had promised hordes of angry citizens that the Goblin King would right all wrongs and set things to normal, or he would intervene.

Of course, he had not contacted Jareth or his Champion. He had no intention of actually spurring on their mission. The High Chancellor was growing restless with the lack of action, and only prayed that his Master was somewhere destroying that blasted sword. How could he be needed unless the King of the Goblins failed? Larimon would hold the key, the one loophole, to the liberation of these pathetic creatures. He would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams for it, but first, the sword...

"Larimon."

A chill of pins and needles, pricking like ice, stole up the High Chancellor's spine. His Master's presence had only evoked that sensation the first time they met, when he had appeared from shadow and made his offer. Slowly he turned from walking his circle around the looking pool. "Yes, master?"

He barely contained the gasp at the sight of Jareth's general laying sprawled at the feet of the shadowed figure. Black, ragged wisps of smoke served as the demon's form of dress, while the face was a mask of darkness.

"M-master?" he stuttered again. What had he done?

"I have prevented the slip of this fool's tongue," the demon whispered, toeing Brock's head with what was perhaps a foot. "The Goblin King and Champion are quite bright. They discovered the link to the new veins."

Larimon paled before glancing down to the still figure on his floor. "The general?"

"Interfered," his Master spat, "and refused a generous position of power on your Council. I merely silenced his refusal. But," came the mocking laugh, "he will have a great honor."

A flicker of jealousy sparked inside the Chancellor. Honor? Surely, after his loyalty, his Master would not pay kindness to this foul Fae.

"Yes," the demon sighed. Larimon said nothing, but watched as he moved to kneel at the general's side. "He will be the first of many to die."

"Die?" Larimon breathed. He forgot himself and spoke aloud to the room. "But...the Fae cannot..."

The cold laugh of the smoky figure across the room silenced his thoughts. "All souls can perish. There is always a way that the weak can be broken." Brock, staring blankly at the ceiling, neck running with red, gurgled incomprehensibly. "What was that?" the demon asked. "Let us see what you have to say after turning away my proposition," he sneered, waving a hand over his body.

Brock's deep wound heeled instantly, the skin knitting itself back together, before he coughed roughly and scrambled into a sitting position. "The Fae cannot die, you heartless fiend. Release me at once!"

"Ah...you were not listening." Snakes of torn shadow whipped as the demon prowled around the general in a slow circle. "You, of all the inhabitants Underground, should know. You have said it yourself."

Bewildered, he looked up to the faceless figure and scowled. "I said no such thing."

"Didn't you?" Larimon watched as Brock was hauled to his feet and flung at the looking pool. Immediately an image wavered over the water. "I have been watching the Goblin King for much time now, as I have all the rulers in this realm. Do you not remember this night?"

Brock looked on to see a dripping Jareth lay a sleeping Sarah, wrapped in a human jacket, onto a low couch. Moments later he saw himself and Margaret appear in a doorway. "The night Sarah was brought back to the Goblin City?" he wondered.

Another wave of his hand and sound poured through the water.

Jareth pressed his lips in response, staring into the fire. "I didn't think it would ever come to this-she was supposed to take her dreams. You know that refusing such a large part of the soul can kill a mortal."

"It can kill a Fae just as easily," Brock offered, coming to stand beside the couch. "But yes, I know."

"But," Brock spluttered as the scene faded, "I was being figurative! I only meant that Jareth's life would have no meaning without the girl in it, because he loves-"

"Dreams?" Larimon cut in. "Refusing dreams can kill the Fae? Such a trifling thing?"

"Dreams have power," the demon nodded. "What the Goblin King said of the mortals is true...apparently the Champion was headed down that path while she remained human. She rejected her dreams and sacrificed a part of her soul. The Gift bestowed upon her ultimately mended that fractured spirit. For a Fae, though," he mused, twisting his wrist. A solid sphere of black took shape in his palm. "It would be fatal."

"You may destroy me in all but that way," Brock roared, springing to his feet. "I will never refuse my dreams and let them rot in your grasp."

"Yes," Larimon's Master replied, "you will. Have you seen your dreams, general?" he cooed. The orb in his hand blinked into an exact replica of the Goblin King's crystals. Inside swam a myriad of images. Children, a wife, glory. The throne. "You have been a loyal servant to the Goblin Kingdom. To its ruler. But do you not crave the power of the title?" A crown floated into view. "If you were to accept your dreams," he whispered, "it would mean utter betrayal. Everything you have ever worked for, loved, would become folly."

With a sinking heart Brock found that it was true. More than anything he had craved the opportunity to rule, not for himself, but for the love of his subjects. Being the king's trusted general and often his advisor had been enough of a consolation. But this...

"I would rather die," he growled, "than forsake my duty."

"I thought as much," the demon laughed. With horror Brock watched the crystal float slowly toward the ceiling. "Any last words, general?"

To die, to cease to exist, was a terrifying idea. Brock found that he preferred it much more to the pain he would always harbor had he embraced treachery.

"After the Goblin King has won," he returned, standing as bravely as his wavering image would allow, "I will see you in Hell."

The crystal burst.


Sarah really did not understand what purpose Jareth had in dragging her away from the vein. She had worked herself up into a fighting mood, bow at the ready, and he was going the wrong direction. No matter what she asked, he refused to elaborate on his plan. The dragon did not fly them up the side of the mountain, simply lumbered behind at a steady pace, and so they were climbing over boulders and shifting dirt.

A groan escaped her as the toe of one boot slipped on a chink of loose rock. She caught herself with another large stone, but Jareth's hand grabbed her wrist before she could fall. Carefully he hauled the panting girl up. "Alright?" he asked. Sarah nodded. "How's your side? I imagine the exertion is not helping..."

"Honestly, fine," she shrugged. "Lyra's salve acted as a temporary stitching, but sometimes it's still sore."

Gingerly Jareth smoothed a hand over the wound. "Save what energy you can. There's nothing we can do for it now, and we won't have rest until our job is finished." He was surprised when Sarah's hand settled over his own.

"I'm fine, really," she stressed. If nothing else, it helped that he was concerned for her. "Let's keep going."

He nodded and turned to continue the trek, keeping Sarah's hand in his. They followed the natural path carved into the mountain, a zigzag up to the peak that had them winding ever closer to the top. Certainly it was easier than going straight up, but it took much more time.

Some rocks were as tiny as grains of sand, and others were large as semi-trucks. Sarah blinked a few times when the shadows seemed to move of their own accord. Actually...there should not be shadows. The sun was hidden behind the clouds. Writing it off as a trick of her overworked brain, she ignored it and pressed on.


"Wait..." the demon breathed at the pool. The scene of the climbing pair stood out clearly as Larimon watched at his side. "Not yet. Be patient, and we shall have them exactly where we want them..."


Up ahead was the spot Jareth had been searching for. By luck he had seen it on the map Brock retrieved from the library, the same one with the inked rivers of lava. "Here," he sighed, hoisting Sarah up one last stretch of rock. Pleased, he motioned to a large opening in the mountain's wall. "There is a cave that will lead straight out into the pass. They will be expecting us to stride right up the other side of the mountain," Jareth smiled, "but we will attack from a different angle."

"Clever," Sarah nodded. Slowly she looked around Jareth's shoulders to the dark cave beyond. "And that's...safe." Her shoes shifted uneasily in the light dusting of snow that covered the last hundred feet or so of mountain.

He had no idea, no previous knowledge of this cave, but self-doubt would do nothing for them now. "This will be to our advantage." His tone was assuring and a misty breath hung in the air. "It should not be a long walk." Quietly he looked into the girl's questioning green eyes. "Trust me."

Jareth had asked that of her before, she mused. Hadn't he taken care of her? Exasperated and soothed her in equal measures? Before her mind had made itself up she was already nodding and tightening the hold on his hand. Her other gripped the bow with mounting determination.

Briefly he nodded to the dragon, sending an unspoken message, which Sarah guessed followed along the lines of "Guard the rear." Every few steps its head would swivel around to check.

Tentatively they stepped over the threshold of the opening. Inside the dark was consuming until Liuhath began to glow.

What met their eyes was reflection upon reflection of the sword's warm light. The cave was covered in sheets of ice, icicles hanging like fangs from the ceiling. Their own images were reflected back at them from every angle, and Sarah was having a difficult time distinguishing which direction was the way forward.

Jareth motioned for silence and gently pulled her in one direction. Somewhere in the dark came a steady drip drip of water, an almost calculated echo, and the only noise to be heard. Behind them the dragon padded quietly.

Distorted images of the three moved along the walls of the cave like mirrors in a fun house. Liuhath's glow was not strong enough to penetrate but a few feet of darkness at a time, and so the length of the cavern was unknown. The farther they pressed into the mountain the louder the dripping noise became, soon amplified into hundreds of pitter patters. Jareth did not care for the sound of melting ice in a place that should be frozen over completely, as it had been outside, but decided to worry over the task at hand.

Sarah was thinking along the same lines. Surely her little wish earlier had not caused any extensive harm...it had only been one ribbon of lava that shifted to warm her stream, right? With each step she became less sure. Her boots were sloshing through rather large puddles.

A splash caused the three to whirl around. Hearts hiccuping, their eyes searched frantically for what had caused the noise. Then there was another splash, closer, and another.

"Jareth..." Sarah breathed. She was gripping her bow so tightly that her fingers were numb. Behind them an icicle dropped to the ground with a crash and her scream of fright was barely contained. The Goblin King thrust Liuhath over his head, but the cave ceiling was nothing save rock and ice. Clumsily her fingers retrieved an arrow and she knocked it.

It had been years since she'd attempted archery. Why hadn't she been given something like daggers? But even now her fingers curled in a familiar way over the weapon as she pulled slowly on the string.

Faint rumbling caused the hairs on the back of Jareth's neck to stand on end. Around them the ice clinked like pieces of glass, a few shards coming away not far from their position. The rumble was soft, and low, but nothing of the earth. He could see the tense line in Sarah's back, could almost hear her heart trying to escape her chest. Reaching out a hand to place on her shoulder, he yelled in surprise when she spun around, yanked the bow to eye level, and let loose an arrow.

The sound of the escaped arrow sliced the air and buzzed before there was a thump and howl of rage. Horrified, Sarah watched the struck beast limp into Liuhath's glow. She heard Jareth suck in his breath as the animal's growl intensified to a snarl.

How had she done that? Her mind went into overdrive. It was like her senses had known it was there in the dark. Steadily it advanced on them, crouched low to the wet cave floor, but Jareth held his ground with the sword presented in a challenge. "Sarah, get back from here." She was not listening, another arrow ready before he had finished. The dragon wriggled, tried to turn, and let out its own growl of fright.

Reflexively Sarah spun to the noise and stopped dead in her tracks.

So many of them, large and small, twisted masses, beasts unidentifiable to their true form. The darkness had warped them, and they had blocked the only exit. Jareth heard her gasp and made the mistake of ignoring his opponent.

With a leap the beast was on top of the Goblin King. They had fallen for the deception, and now the trap had sprung. The remaining creatures jumped for the others as Jareth wrestled the beast and swiped with his sword, avoiding claws and teeth at all costs. The stench of death hung foul in the air, Liuhath's glow blinking and throwing contorted shadows on the walls.

Sarah had never shot so fast in her life. Things dropped from the ceiling, dived for her boots, so she kicked out at them. The dragon snapped its jaws and brandished its muscled tail. She stabbed an arrowhead into one monster before spinning and shooting it in the opposite direction. Icicles fell from the ceiling, as if the cave were closing its mouth to swallow them whole.

With one beast down, Jareth cut a path to Sarah. The flow of creatures wouldn't seem to end. As soon as one was destroyed two more would spring up to replace it. Their large friend was beyond himself with fear, skittish into self defense, and nearly knocked them both flat on more than one occasion. He barely had time to slam Sarah into a wall, covering her body with his own, before a column of fire spiraled through the cave.

The wave of intense heat mingled with shrieks and yowls of misery. Melted water poured in tiny waterfalls, trickling down and drenching the standing figures. After a moment the noises ceased and they dared to look. Dark bodies, splotches of black goo, were puddled all over the floor. Already retreating to the exit was the dragon, heedless of its destructive exhalation.

Breathing heavily, shaking with the effort to stand, Sarah gulped and opened her mouth to call the dragon back. On the ceiling something snapped. Creaking, groaning noises of shifting rock and breaking ice filled the cavern with magnified shrieks. It wasn't until she had been thrown roughly away, watching sprawled on the slippery floor as the ceiling caved in over Jareth's head, that she realized the scream was her own.

P.S. I have barricaded myself in, lest your wrath plumet both me and this story into a torture chamber. Have faith in chapter twelve!