XII
Much to Live For, More to Die For
Sarah struggled out from under the chunks of ice that had pinned her to the cave floor. Something grabbed a hold of her heart and seemed to squeeze it painfully with each beat. "Jareth!" Slabs of heavy rock, all covered in half-melted sheets of ice, blocked her way farther into the cave. "Jareth!" she wailed louder. Frantically she tore at loose stones and rubble. Get in, she had to get in, had to know he was alright... There was no other sound than that of her rising voice and the crumbling stones. "Answer me!"
Around her, in the few remaining icicles, were reflected images of several brunette girls with green eyes. They all threw themselves down at the base of the heaped rocks, sobbing into the puddles.
"Please..."
There were even multiple voices. Dozens of Sarahs mourning, hair plastered over their faces with the melted water and tears, fingers reaching out to claw away another rock.
"Oh, no, no, he can't be. He can't..."
She was alone. Completely and utterly defenseless. Forget the dragon, he had vanished, and her bow lay in a puddle of black goo. Sarah could care less. Jareth was gone, really gone...
"You can't die, you Fae bastard!" she shouted at the wall. "Or have you lied to me about that?" Hastily she scrambled up, tripped, and drug herself to stand again with the support of the fallen rocks. "Prove it!" she bellowed until her voice cracked. A faraway crash sounded, probably another icicle falling at her enraged words. "Prove to me that you're alive!"
No one answered her. Suddenly hoarse, the girl slid down the cave wall and buried her face in her knees. What could she do now? Sit here...she would sit here and starve, or freeze, or wait until more of those monsters came. Then she would slaughter everything in her wake.
Revenge...oh. Yes, revenge was what she needed. The darkness had taken Jareth from her. Now the only soul that had ever made Sarah Williams feel complete was gone. Someone was going to pay dearly for this-
"Little girl, why are you crying?"
"Jareth?" she gasped, raising her head with a jerk. But there was no one else with her. Standing shakily she spun, only to find the other images mimic her movement. "Who was that?"
"Over here."
"And here."
"And here."
Sarah blinked to find that her distorted reflections were not crying, frowning, or shivering as she was. They all began to move independently of herself and one another.
"Sarah," one of them cooed, "why do you cry?"
She was hallucinating. It was a mental snap caused by grief. "Go away!"
"Go away?" Her reflections laughed together. "You cannot abandon yourself."
The demon nodded with satisfaction at the scene unfolding in Larimon's looking pool. It would distract her for a bit, if not fulfil his darker purpose. Now, on to other matters.
The High Chancellor was grateful for his Master's departure. Without a backwards glance to the image of a bewildered Sarah, he fled to the Safe Room. He wanted to get his paws on that crystal vial before the demon beat him to it.
"You aren't me!" Sarah growled. "This is some trick. An illusion."
One of the figures shrugged. "Sometimes talking to yourself is a good thing. We can try and solve your problem together."
"My problem? My problem?!" This was not a problem. This was a catastrophe. "Unless you can get this wall of rock out of my way, I don't want to hear another word!"
"Touchy," came a sniff. "Why does it matter to you so much?"
"Why does it..." The girl shook her head in disbelief. "How could you ask something like that? Jareth matters to me. He's a part of who I am."
A particularly thin Sarah, stretched by the icicle, sneered. "Is that all? You talk like he's your third arm, or something."
She had taken just about enough. With one agile motion she had grabbed a rock, flung it at the offending image, and sent the reflection falling to the ground in a million pieces. "That isn't what I meant at all!"
"She's means she can't survive without him. Security, bread and butter, all that."
Another icicle smashed.
"No, no, he's just really delicious company, isn't that right, Sarah?"
A third, a fourth, a fifth were destroyed. Sarah was panting, flecks of ice sticking to her hair. Only one icicle remained with her image, one that looked very similar to the real Sarah, and belatedly she realized that her only light source had been pouring from them. Now around her the dark was nearly solid.
Inside the remaining crystal an image spun itself into existence. Two figures glided over a dance floor dripping with white. The man in a coat dusted with starry fragments of crystal, tall and ethereal, sighed a song to the enraptured woman in his arms. She was a beautiful creature, grown newly into womanhood, a perfect replica of Sarah. Tenderly the man halted and drew the woman to him, leaning down to softly brush his lips against her own...
The sight caused her throat to constrict. "Isn't this your dream, Sarah?" asked her own disembodied voice. It sounded fake to her cold ears. "The one you refused so long ago? Accept it now, take this second chance."
She shook her head. "I can't."
"I don't see why not." More images began to scroll across the ice, almost too fast for Sarah to see. Wonderfully terrible things. Unrestricted passions that her heart had long ignored. Once more her possessed reflection dominated the icicle. "It's all you ever wanted."
Sarah could not believe she was actually having this conversation with herself. Undoubtedly her mind was going, and fast. Despite the other Sarah's tempting offer, she smiled sadly and shook her head again.
A wicked grin twitched at the corner of the impostor's mouth, a strange angle for Sarah's face. "Then you reject your dreams a second time."
Frowning, the real Sarah said, "That's impossible. Not when I've already accepted them. Perhaps a few years late, but-"
"What?" blinked the fake image. "I don't understand!" The last reflection gave her a bewildered look before she too was smashed. Plunged into absolute darkness, Sarah stood amidst the half melted, half frozen cave and whispered to no one.
"You idiot. I'm in love with him."
He was floating. The river was carrying him away...
Jareth groaned and twisted, catching a boot on a loose rock. While halting his movement, it also caused him to twist and inhale a mouthful of ice water. Spluttering, he pushed up from the current on his elbows and looked out before him.
The new gush of water had been too much for the cave to handle and flowed right out into the snowy pass. It continued to cut a path through the untouched layer of flakes, winding and swirling down to pool in the lowest point. From his spot just outside the mouth of the cave Jareth could already see the shadows starting to stir, and...what was that, in the middle of the newly formed lake? From far away it looked like...an altar of stone. Unobserved, the pack, sodden and spilling half its contents, floated to a stop beside him.
"Sarah," he mumbled before jumping to his feet. Mercifully Liuhath had stayed put in his clenched fist.
"I'm afraid not."
From just beyond the threshold of the cave emerged a figure swathed in strips of shadow. He moved with a kind of cruel grace, hovering above the ground, and Jareth felt his limbs tingle with the strange energy he radiated. It did not deter him. Without a word he lifted the sword in warning.
"Do not try me, Goblin King. Hand over the sword."
"The sword?" he frowned.
"Liuhath," the demon purred. "Sword of light, Gift of the Fae. Give it to me."
An animalistic rumble started at the back of his throat. "I will cut you down where you stand, demon. You are no match for me."
"No?" the shadowed figure laughed. "How about now..."
In horror Jareth felt the ground below him tremble. A chasm opened wide at his back, jolting the mountain and spewing a cloud of steam. From within a red glow appeared. Part of the ground crumbled away to leave him standing on the tip of a tiny cliff, below a drop waiting to swallow him in boiling lava.
"You have your Champion to thank for that," said the demon. Around him the shreds of darkness twirled and lifted to conceal his figure. When they dropped away something entirely different stood before the Goblin King. A tall, horned beast raised on two clawed feet, shaggy darkness covering him from top to bottom, and paws large enough to crush a horse. He smiled to reveal jagged fangs. "It seems she has awakened the volcano."
Jareth's eyes hardened. "Demon, I will warn you one final time." He could feel the undead lumbering up the slope behind him. Luckily the chasm kept them separated. For now.
"My patience wears thin," hissed the new demon. "I will taste Aboveground flesh this day, Goblin King. Your rule has come to an end."
He sprang.
It might have been hours that Sarah was alone to weep in the darkness. She could feel every bruise and cut on her body trying to heal, yet she remained indifferent. Faint light at the edge of her vision could not even stir her. When the dragon padded to her side, occasionally letting out a burst of fire to light the way, she did not have the heart to scream and rage at him. He had only done what he thought was right. The poor beast had defeated the tainted creatures for them, and had not meant any real harm. Choking on her own sob, Sarah flung herself blindly into the scaly neck and cried for all she was worth. "At least you came back," she sighed once there were no tears left. "Jareth might never come back."
Looking to the wall of rock, a determined scowl painted her face. "Come on. There's still a job to finish."
She wasn't sure if the dragon understood her, or merely wanted to head that direction, but at once he began to dig through to the other side. At this point Sarah did not care if she was heading out on a suicide mission. Jareth was no longer here to help her, but she would not betray him with cowardice.
Every lock had been turned, the windows shut. Nothing, no one, was going to get into the Safe Room. Larimon shook his head to dispel the negative feeling and strode to the locked inner chamber. A flick of his wrist, a simple command, and it was open. He snatched the vial and clutched it to his chest. This was his ticket out. Carefully he examined the final drop inside, silvery and climbing the fragile walls. As soon as word came that the sword was taken care of, he would act. Until his master returned, though, it suited him to remain barricaded inside. And wait.
This had never happened before. In all the millennia that the Labyrinth and Goblin Kingdom had stood, there had always been some kind of authoritative figure around. They had searched high and low. The fieries checked the forests, the hands searched the oubliettes, Hoggle wondered the perimeter, Didymus and Ludo took the bog, the brownies looked through the stone maze.
No Jareth.
No Sarah.
No Brock.
The household staff was nearly overrun by all the odd things slipping in and out of the castle doors. Margaret had already hidden the fine china lest it be broken to smithereens. Somehow there was a swimming pool of goblin ale in the dungeon and about twenty extra chickens running amok in the throne room. No one knew how to contain the madness, but didn't dare to flee from the castle. They were only too aware of the dark blotches seen on the horizon, crawling closer with each passing hour.
The disappointment was unbearable once they had broken through to the other side. Sarah and the dragon both scanned the area, but there was no Jareth to be found. Not even a trace that he had been there. Stubbornly she pushed back the new influx of tears and gripped her bow until it almost broke in half. Picking her way carefully through the remainder of the cave, avoiding fallen icicles and parts of the creatures slain by Jareth, she managed to traverse the passage without incident. Her boots squelched with water, but the dragon's constant bursts of light had warmed and dried her clothes considerably.
Weak daylight was finally visible through a hole in the rock. Water was still trickling outside, pulled by the downhill slope. Carefully Sarah peeked around one side of the opening after motioning for the dragon to stop a ways back.
Down in the pass the deepest dip in the land had been filled with melted water. A gap of searing red was distinguishable not far away, steaming, and beyond that...
Her eyes widened at the scene before her. Two figures were battling relentlessly. There was Jareth, dueling a large beast with all his might. It had bull-like hulk and immense horns that charged continually at the fighting Fae.
"Dear God!" she squealed while clutching the rock wall for support. "He's alive..." Every nerve in her body demanded that Sarah fly down the mountain and beat him to a pulp for scaring her. Then, if he was still alive after that, she would kiss him into oblivion.
The relief was fast replaced with alarm. He was tiring, and fast. How long had they been at it? Strange, but it appeared the monster kept diving for Liuhath rather than away from it...
Thinking fast, she knocked an arrow. Thankfully her quiver always seemed to remain magically full. But just when she was about to let it fly, she realized there was no way it could reach. She was terribly out of range. All the good it would do would be to give her position away.
Leaning slightly around the opening of the cave, she tried to conjure some means to wound Jareth's adversary. He needed a fighting chance, a surprise attack. But how?
Her gaze settled upon the pack floating forgotten in the trickling water. It was weighed down enough that the slight stream did not carry it to the expanding lake. Shaking her head, Sarah dived out, grabbed the bag, and retreated back into the cave before the dragon could blink.
"My dear," he laughed, tossing her the bag, "I could quite literally stuff the dragon in there, and it would still feel as light."
"Literally, Jareth?" she mumbled, thinking over his earlier boast. Oh, Hell...she was nuts. "Listen up," Sarah commanded of the dragon. Surprisingly it seemed to understand. "I am going to do the most moronic thing in the history of the Underground, and I need your help."
Foolish Fae...he could not keep up this battle much longer. "Surrender, Goblin King!" the demon cackled. "Won't you listen to my generous offer?"
Sparks flew as Jareth blocked his swiping claws with the sword. Deftly he pulled it away before the monster could fully grasp it. They had fought so long...he didn't have the energy to breathe, let alone speak.
"I am under an agreement with the High Chancellor," the dark figure continued, not winded in the least, "but only until I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. And unless I destroy that sword, unfortunately, mortal delicacies will remain unattainable."
Jareth nearly faltered in their dangerous waltz. Larimon? Larimon was behind this? Rage surged tenfold through his veins as he lept at the beast, striking again and again. "Impossible!" he snarled. "No demon can break Liuhath." Momentarily he let some of his energy be drained by a smirk. "Only one power in all of the Underground can shatter this blade, and I will never bend to your will."
The demon roared in disbelief. Apparently Larimon had not elaborated on that part of the bargain. "That sword will be in pieces yet, Goblin King! If it is by your own hand...so be it."
The contents of the bag was dumped all over the cave floor. Bottles, clothes, food, cloaks, blankets, camping equipment they had never used. Several shakes and dumps were needed before everything fell away. Truly, this bag was magical.
Feeling slightly apprehensive at her own plan, and seeing no way out, Sarah looked to the dragon and asked, "Ready?" It gave her a blank stare. "Alright," she huffed, "blink once if you understand the instructions."
The dragon blinked slowly one time in an obvious attempt to call her an imbecile.
"Ok. If this doesn't work..." Sarah whispered. She bit her bottom lip before patting the dragon's neck. "See you on the other side, buddy." Without further ado she stuck one foot into the pack.
It met nothingness. Not even the bottom of the bag. Fascinated, she pulled it up to her thigh and moved it around some more. Still nothing. Hanging onto the dragon with a hand for support, she balanced, gave a silent prayer to the dark, and jumped the other leg into the bag. Her shriek of surprise was swallowed when the upper portion of her body disappeared into the sack as well.
Quizzically the dragon regarded the bag that had fallen to the floor. He twitched his wings, as if to shrug, before nudging the top of the pack closed and gingerly picking it up with two fangs. Softly he placed it into the flowing stream and watched it float away on the current and down to the lake.
"Your kind tires so easily."
He ignored the demon's provoke.
"Your kind smells like death."
An appreciative chortle escaped the beast. He slashed out, knocking the blade with such force that it sent Jareth sprawling into a pile of snow. Panting, heaving, he rolled back onto his feet wet and covered with flecks of ice.
"I do not understand why you try so hard, Goblin King. After all, we both know that you cannot bind this vein on your own."
Every nerve is his body contracted. He knew? About Sarah?
"Yes, that pretty little mortal-turned-Fae shall not be among us much longer. If she is still alive, which I doubt," he grinned, "then her time is limited."
The world stopped spinning for Jareth. Sarah...not alive. His heart skipped a beat. Dead. Gone. Another silent beat.
He had been right in assuming that the girl would be the Goblin King's downfall. The glazed eyes, the horrified expression... It was too easy.
Jareth hardly felt Liuhath spin from his hands. The undead that had been lurking just beyond the fighting circle swarmed atop him like starved wolves. They dragged him through the snow, cutting a zigzag path down to the stone altar. Easily he was thrown atop it.
Crazed, they tore at his clothes, ripping away strips and bloodying his skin with their sharp nails. Oh, he hoped they would cut out his miserable heart so that he did not have to feel this grief any longer. If Sarah was truly dead...
His fault. All his fault.
Intrigued, the demon wound down to his less impressionable form, watching the carnage. Slowly he circled the altar, a broken Goblin King lying face down over the cold marble, and snapped his fingers. The undead retreated at his bidding. He dangled Liuhath in front of the mismatched eyes that refused to see. "She is dead?" It was strange...he should have felt something crack within him. Bonded as they were, by his magic, Jareth realized his mistake. She could not be dead. All of his power would have returned.
"Perhaps," the shadow man acknowledged. "Perhaps not. By the end of this day I plan for you both to rejoin your army's general."
Brock? The beast could not mean what he thought. Some of the old Goblin King crept back into his eyes. "My general?" Forcefully he tried to keep the anger out of his voice, because to deceive this clever demon he needed to at least appear weak. Liuhath bobbed out of sight just as a small pack bumped the side of the altar. It floated, tilting in the current. Neither saw the flap pried open from the inside.
"Yes, I captured him for an experiment earlier today," he admitted. "It seems that my theory about the Fae lifespan was correct." As if telling the Goblin King a great secret, he leaned a bit closer and whispered, "You. Can. Die. Really and truly perish, cease to exist."
Sarah barely heard or comprehended the words being spoken over the altar above her. Inside the pack it was dark, and the never-ending empty space was hard enough to swim through. Yes, she thought wryly to herself, swim. She kicked her legs, doggy-paddled, and managed to grope her way through the nothingness to the top with bow in hand. By peeking with one eye, slightly prying the flap open, she could see part of the events above her.
"I made a very generous offer to your general, which he unfortunately refused. Your offer will be much better."
Silently Jareth summoned all the trickles of energy he possessed. The magic built in his fingertips, and his heartbeat was in his head. Over his exposed back he could sense the demon looming. "What offer might that be?"
Encouraged, the demon twirled Liuhath in one hand. "Break the sword. My agreement with Larimon will be fulfilled, and I am free to roam the Aboveground as I see fit. You will be rewarded your true form...the angel your ancestors so foolishly shunned."
His mind halted. To stand before Heaven's gates, to have life beyond this damnably eternal struggle...
With a snarl Jareth rolled off the altar, releasing his magic in a burst of power. The wave was perfectly aimed at the chest of the demon, headed straight for a fatal spot, when Liuhath blocked its path.
A howl of rage, of pain, accompanied the Goblin King as he fell into the frigid lake. In his eyes was a flash of gold and amber, the shards of the broken blade splashing around his still form.
Sarah felt it. Felt the power splinter and flicker out of existence. Her own small measure of torture was felt in every limb of her body, through every vein. A part of her had died. Clutching heavily with one hand to the bow and edge of the pouch, the other to her racing heart, she gasped for air and looked again to the scene above her.
"Many thanks," laughed the demon. His voice deepened as the shadows shifted again to his true form. "And now...your reward..."
Jareth roared with pain when clawed paws picked him up and flung his aching body back onto the altar. Beneath him, already staining the stone red, were flecks of blood from the puncture wounds and the undead's abuse.
But nothing compared to the slices between his shoulder blades. Two long gashes bled scarlet lines through his shirt. Excruciating pain shot down the length of his back before Jareth managed a gasp. He became enveloped by it, numbed with the overwhelming sensation, as a pair of wings unfurled to drape over the sides of the altar.
Her gasp was barely stifled. Sarah had never seen anything so horrible. Jareth's nails were clawing at the marble as the demon cackled over him. And the wings...
They were sinister, feathers black as the dark vein. Already his body had paled with the strain, the exhaustion. His hair streaked a morbid ebony until every fair lock vanished. Frantically Sarah scrambled for the flap of the pack.
"There now." Elated at his victory, the demon tossed the sword's hilt into a snowdrift. "Ah, but there might be a catch, Goblin King." He ignored the strangled moans issuing from his victim's mouth. "A tainted angel is not welcomed in Heaven. A fallen one cannot live Aboveground. Your Fae power will fade, and you will have no place in your own realm. Hell does not accept mongrels. Where," he laughed, "will you go?" A snap of his fingers caused the undead, still for too long, to advance eagerly towards the altar. "Who could ever love the outcast?"
"I do."
Shocked, the demon watched a sodden Sarah rise from the opposite side of the marble stone. "Little girl. You escaped my trap."
"Damn right I did," she whispered. An arrow was already knocked, hidden behind her back.
"You are a fiery witch, aren't you?" His faceless head tilted to the side. "If you were once mortal," he mused, stalking her way, "perhaps you still taste like one..."
A battle cry, unknown to even Sarah herself, tore from her throat. The demon faltered, her arrow loosed.
It missed.
"Pretty though you are, I am sure your flavor is much better than your aim."
"My aim," she smiled, "was perfect."
The arrow fell exactly where she wanted it to. Her blood, smeared over the pointed arrowhead, dived straight and true into the blazing crack of lava.
Wild eyes would have turned to the girl in rage had there been any in his face. The demon morphed larger and larger, howling and springing for the girl.
"I wish you would return to Hell," she said softly. "Right now."
From the boiling rupture in the ground lava poured forth, streaming and hissing at the contact with the wet snow. The undead were felled like dominoes, black shadows screaming and falling prey to the inescapable molten rock. Though he tried to resist, the demon could not fight the powerful pull. Sarah's blood had mingled with the natural force she had already provoked. It was bound, coupled with a wish, to her bidding.
She did not watch to see the demon be sucked down into the crevice. Her ears were deaf to the yowls of anguish around her. Clumsily Sarah clambered onto the altar and pulled Jareth to her chest, up and away from the hot lava that was fast flooding the space around their little island. "Jareth, can you hear me?" she yelled above the roar. He remained limp before his eyes flickered open.
"Sarah."
"Yes, oh thank God," she moaned into his dark hair. "I thought I lost you."
His grip on her steadily increased. "You...love me?"
Tears were already coating her cheeks. "I've always loved you." A sob smothered her laugh. "I was too afraid of myself to admit it."
This was so hard, so unfair to the both of them. Jareth felt his heart breaking deep within his chest.
"Kiss me," Sarah smiled into his hair. "Kiss me right now, and let's disappear. I don't care if we wind up in the bog-"
Jareth silenced her lips with a bare finger. She blinked, then looked up into cold eyes. They were both a deep, silent brown. "The dark vein has not been bound."
"What?" she breathed.
"Your wish will not bind it. Liuhath is broken."
Desperately she looked around to the rising lava, the feverish rock and ice clashing to create wild steam. The heat from it was pasting her hair to her face again. "But how-"
"There were two Gifts, Sarah," he said. She thought he looked deceptively calm. "I did not use all of the second to turn you Fae. Retrieve it, bring it back to seal the rift. There is enough light there to use."
"Larimon has it!" came her panicked cry. "God only knows where he is!"
Quickly Jareth took her worried face between his hands. "There is not enough power, split as it is between you and I, for both of us to magic where Larimon has the vial. I will give you the rest of my power," he said, "and you can make the journey yourself."
"No! I'm not leaving you, Ja-"
"Yes," he roared, "you are!"
Heart faltering erratically, Sarah recoiled at his words.
"Sarah, listen to me. My soul won't survive in this form, not anywhere I flee to. I am giving all that remains of my power into your keeping." Before she could protest, Jareth had wrenched the pendant from around his neck and settled it over her own. The wicked horns glinted, reflecting the intense heat around them.
She clutched the gold shape in one fist. "I'll come back for you."
Sadly he shook his head. "You will barely have enough power to retrieve the vial, bring it back, and then transport yourself away. Taking me with you would plunge your body into another coma, one you would never wake from."
The lava was licking around the marble altar. Somehow it had managed to remain erect. Sarah could not see for the tears clouding her vision. She didn't care what Jareth said...she loved him. Coma or not, she was coming back and would whisk him away. But to argue was simply wasting time.
When she nodded Jareth felt a small twinge of relief. Sarah would finally be safe. Just as she should have been all her life. Quietly he took her hands and splayed them over his heart.
Inside she could feel the rough pull of her magic on his. Slowly more and more was seeping into her, causing a change of unbelievable proportions. It was more than wind, or pulsing magic. This was deeper, eternal, ageless power. Her body was going to burst, she could not hold it all...
One final shove was all it would take. The Goblin King was almost no more, for all that remained of his power was the small taste left on his lips. Without hesitation he gathered the quivering girl to his chest, nearly convulsing with the magical overload, and whispered in her ear, "Sarah Williams. Goblin Queen."
Softly Jareth moved his mouth over her own. Sarah's breath hitched like it always did when he kissed her. This one was different than any other in the world, before or after. He poured everything he had into it, painstakingly conveying his magic, his sorrow, his love.
The wind took her in a sigh, whipping up around the altar, and it turned into a gale even after her form turned to pure air in his arms. Glacial currents tore down the mountain, bringing with it swirls of snow. Harshly the hot and cold clashed, amidst it a marble stone island.
Jareth ducked beneath one dark wing. "At least I never told her I loved her," he sighed to the white sky. "She will not miss something she never lost."
Behind him Larimon could feel another presence in the room. There was no noise to alert him, simply the feeling. Maniacally he clutched the vial to his chest, doubled over in his efforts to shield it. "So it's done? Liuhath is broken?" he breathed.
Booted steps took slow, measured paces in his direction. The demon had never made a sound.
"Liuhath is broken," repeated a second voice. "Which is why I will be reclaiming the Gift you have wrongfully confiscated."
The High Chancellor went rigid with fear. "You are not my Master." He had not erected wards to halt intruders... Slowly, very slowly, he turned.
Before his eyes stood a tall woman, pale as the moon, her sable hair gathered into a haphazard, windblown twist on her head. She was clothed head to toe in a sinful display of leather and dark feathers. On her arms were long gloves of blackest black, and a mask of equal color hid the upper half of her face. "No," she drawled. "I am not your Master. Your bargain with the demon is forfeit, Larimon."
Twitching in disbelief, he backed into the wall. The mystery woman followed at a torturously soft pace. "Who are you? No one has rights to this vial except me!"
Her spirit had taken all the plight it could. Sarah was not going to let this excuse for a Fae stand in her way. Heart beating wildly, she snarled and pulled an orb from the air.
Wait. A devilish smile twisted her mouth as she remembered.
Jareth had stolen her heart. She no longer had one.
"You forget your place, Chancellor," she whispered. The crystal rolled smoothly along her gloved knuckles, up her arm, across her bare shoulders, and down to the other palm. "As Goblin Queen, I have total control over that vial. Your tricks no longer apply, traitor."
Larimon gaped, shuddering at the intensity of her emerald eyes. "G-goblin Queen?"
"Do not," Sarah hissed, "dare make me ask again." With a jerk the shining crystal halted. She slid it through her fingers before tossing it over one shoulder.
Petrified, the High Chancellor watched as the open inner chamber, left wide after he had pulled the vial from within, became filled with a monstrous, spinning, slicing machine. He tried to magic away. Nothing.
"I will call off the Cleaners," Sarah informed him with a tilt of her head, "if you return what is mine."
He was not supposed to suffer this. The demon had promised him the Underground, glory, riches, total rule... Not a mauling.
"Here!" Larimon shrieked. Blindly he flung the precious vial toward the waiting woman. She caught it with one outstretched hand, long claw-like fingers wrapping around the small prize. The machine whirred ever closer. "Call it off! Call it off!" He scrambled at the wall, trying to claw his way out.
Sarah smiled and slipped the vial down into the snug place between her breasts, just underneath the pendant. "No."
"What?" His roar shook the walls. "You told me-"
She silenced him with a wave of her hand. Turning on her heel and fading into the shadows, she called over her shoulder, "I lied."
Spiked heels sunk deep into the newly fallen snow that covered the protruding cliff, the hem of her black dress powdered with white. Sarah observed the area with mounting urgency. The icy wind and snow, driven by her own misery, had soothed the raging lava. Everything was hard, frozen, and quiet. Hurriedly she scanned the pass, trying to locate the dark vein. All this time it had remained hidden in the shadows.
Jumping from the cliff with an instinctive leap, she plummeted before morphing. Her body knew what to do, even in raven form. Beat after beat of her wings drove her deeper into the shadows. The undead no longer slunk here, just the bubbling, sputtering darkness.
Easily she alighted once again into the snow. Already cut, it was no difficult task to yank off one leather glove and squeeze a drop of blood from her finger. The black goo did not put up much of a fight, as if also wearied by all the events of that day.
Delicately Sarah extracted the vial from her dress. She pulled out the stopper and kissed the glass lightly. This was their only chance... Inside the liquid danced, trying to escape the container in its eagerness, and she faltered when tipping her wrist.
What had Jareth said? This magic had turned her immortal, but before then? It had converted the fallen angels to Fae. With a start she realized what she truly held in her hand... an antidote. The Goblin King's life could be saved by the single drop there, shimmering beneath the crystal. She could give it to him and have her dream in full. Someone to love, who had offered mornings of gold and valentine evenings. More than a prince on a white steed...a king. Her king.
Who would never look at her again with anything more than disgust. He would live only to see the rest of his world wither.
"Please," she whispered. "For Jareth."
One single silvery drop of precious light was swallowed by the vein. Holding her breath, nearly crushing the vial in her hands, she waited.
A column of light that was so white and bright she shielded her eyes spun high into the clouds. Immediately they parted, revealing a merry blue sky. A familiar groan and tremble had the cleaved ground whole once again.
Springing into the sky, dropping the vial with impatience, Sarah winged it as fast as she could back to the altar. From above it looked like a beautifully carved statue of an angel, made of pure white marble. Around it were decorative wisps of lava, cooled into snowy spirals.
She nearly crash landed before returning to her humanoid form properly. Brushing the snow from his wings, turning him over, she traced Jareth's blue lips. "It's done," she choked. "Are you still there?" With him she would always have her heart. Now it had slowed to a crawl, barely risking to beat. It was sending out a distress call to anything it could reach.
His eyes felt frozen shut. But her voice...
"Sarah."
"Open your eyes, Jareth. There's something I want to show you."
So weak...but for her...anything...
There wasn't much that he could make out, except a beautiful woman and a spinning crystal.
"Once upon a time," she whispered, "The Goblin Queen fell in love with a fallen angel, and had given him certain powers..."
Heavy wings were beating at the air. He wasn't sure, but Jareth could detect a large green shadow, and faint words.
"Crystal...nothing more...dreams. Do you want it?"
"You are my dream, Sarah," he mumbled to her fading image. Something cool and round slid into his palm.
His body was lifting up. "Then you accept your dreams."
"Yes."
