Chapter 55
After meeting with Ryvak alone for nearly an hour, the goblin Captain exited the infirmary and indicated that Jareth was ready for the healers. Sarah crept in with them, conflicted. She knew she was not Jareth's favorite person right now, not even in the top ten, but she was unwilling to be anywhere else. He motioned for her as the healers reviewed their incantations once more; they were just distant enough to allow a bit of privacy. He met her with a hard, direct gaze, urgency apparent in his eyes.
"Time is short," he whispered, glancing at the healers. "I believe you can do this, Sarah. If I did not, I would fight both you and the healers to remain conscious. Ryvak has instructions. If things do go horribly wrong, he will keep you safe." Jareth hesitated then; the healers were approaching. He reached up and threaded his fingers through the loose hair at her nape that had worked itself free of her braid and pulled her in for a tender kiss. The healers began to chant. "I love you, Sarah," he whispered softly, fingers going lax and hand falling to his side as darkness took him at last.
Sarah gasped and sat staring into nothing as the inert form of the Goblin King lay sleeping at her side. She continued to sit for hours, feeling as if his last, whispered confession had been a sucker punch to her gut rather than a declaration of love. What was she going to do now?
Her solitary musings were interrupted by the arrival of Ryvak.
"We have captured the advance scouting party, My Queen," he reported. "At least most of them. Two chose death rather than capture."
"I see," Sarah replied, not seeing at all.
"Do you wish to be involved in the questioning?" he asked at last.
"No," she sighed. What use would she be, anyway, she thought to herself.
Ryvak hesitated. "Do you have any restrictions as to the questioning?" he asked.
Sarah looked at Jareth, weak and vulnerable in the coma, reminding herself again that one of them had shot her husband.
"I don't care what you do to them," she replied heavily, turning away. She picked up her old, battered copy of Labyrinth and began to read to Jareth, hoping he could hear her.
Some hours later, maybe it was a day, possibly two—she wasn't quite sure, she had completed Labyrinth and another book and was well into Le Morte d' Arthur. Jareth slept on, oblivious. Dimly she realized that most of the castle's special goblins were clustered around the bed, listening to her read, but she was beyond caring. Sarah read, numb and overwhelmed, too frightened to go down to Jareth's study—the war room—and find out what was happening. So, she huddled next to Jareth's still form and tried desperately to forget all of it. It was working well until Moreth invaded her solitude.
"Ryvak sent me, Highness," he murmured. "You need to pack essentials and come with me. We will get you to safety," he announced.
"What…why?" Sarah asked, confused.
"During the past two days," Moreth hesitated, "the troll army has regrouped and received reinforcements. They now march for the Goblin City. We have engaged the enemy twice now and taken substantial losses. Ryvak is a good captain but no military strategist. The only one who could devise a strategy to win this war now lies near death," he said, nodding toward Jareth. "The troll army is now only five days march from the Goblin City. We must get you to safety."
"Leave?" Sarah asked, fear warring with numb surprise. "What about….?" She trailed off, waving her hand around her to encompass the special goblins, Jareth and then a wider sweep to include the castle and city.
"The Goblin Kingdom will fall, My Queen," he said stoically. "Many can still be evacuated. The High Fae Council may or may not provide the assistance they promised in time to be of any actual help. But, we will carry out the King's final order and get you to safety. The remaining soldiers will hold off the troll army as long as they can to allow the citizens to escape."
The goblins at Sarah's feet had begun sobbing, most softly, a few escalating to wails as their plight sank home. "If Queen leaves, no hope left," one murmured. Sarah thought it was Sprog. The others agreed and continued to sob.
She looked from Moreth to the goblins and back again, torn, her feet unwilling to move as the words of the Labyrinth's prophecy returned, as nearly as she could remember: Sarah Williams will learn the final lesson, the one the dwarf deprived her of. And in so learning, she will either become the Goblin Queen or the Goblin Kingdom will fall.
"Give me a few minutes alone, with Jareth," she said at last to no one in particular. The goblins shuffled out, still crying and whispering laments amongst themselves. Moreth hesitated, about to speak; he thought better of it and nodded slightly, closing the door behind him.
Sarah sat on the bed next to Jareth, pulled her knees tightly to her chest and, at last, let the tears come. "Help me, Jareth," she whispered brokenly. "What should I do? What was the final lesson? Does Hoggle know? If I can find him, will he tell me?" Her thoughts spun, overwhelming despair seizing and holding her like a rabbit caught in a snare; the more she struggled, the tighter it bound her.
She allowed herself to give in for a moment and then mentally shook herself. She had to figure this out. What lesson had Hoggle deprived her of? He had defied Jareth only once. He was supposed to lead her back to the beginning of the labyrinth, so almost half of her allotted time would have passed, and she would have had to start over from the beginning. If he had done as instructed, then things would have seemed completely hopeless. Would she have been able to push through the utter despair and the sense of complete hopelessness and take action, to marshal her will, focus on the goal and save Toby? Or would she have given up, cried out that it wasn't fair? With a sickening mental jolt, she realized that was exactly where she was now. This then was the lesson: she had to fight, despite the odds, despite the complete lack of hope.
She played the Labyrinth's prophecy through again: Sarah Williams will learn the final lesson, the one the dwarf deprived her of. Alright, she knew what the final lesson was, theoretically. She had to screw her courage to the sticking point, master her fear, and push on in the face of utter hopelessness. In this case, a feat not far shy of impossible. That left the second part of the prophecy. And in so learning, she will either become the Goblin Queen or the Goblin Kingdom will fall. Okay, she had to become the Goblin Queen or the kingdom would fall. That was the key word—OR. That meant that there were two possible futures. The Goblin Kingdom would fall OR she would figure out how to be the Goblin Queen, how to lead her subjects, fight this war, and save them all. The Labyrinth had foreseen it. It was possible. She now had to figure out how. The kicker, of course, was that she was on her own. The Labyrinth parceled out information like picking gold out of a river—a tiny nugget here and there. It would not help her now.
Well, first things first. If she had learned nothing else from her mother, she knew how to play a part. She strode from the infirmary, a determined, take no prisoners air surrounding her. The castle staff stepped back carefully and watched her as she took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into her bedroom. Ten minutes later, the old jeans and t-shirt had vanished, leaving Sarah in her bitch queen from hell costume. She settled the diadem on her own forehead, as the Goblin Queen emerged to lead her subjects.
Chapter 56
"Tell me what's been going on," Sarah demanded as she marched into Jareth's study. The Goblin officers hastily got to their feet, as she moved to settle herself at Jareth's desk.
"So," Sarah mused a few minutes later, "our biggest problems right now are the need for a military commander-strategist and how to extract information from the two remaining spies." Sarah tapped her gloved fingertips impatiently on the desk top. Well, if this were a role-playing game, she knew what she would do. The problem was that she was dealing with real people, maybe not human but living flesh and blood creatures. She thought of the special goblins then, crying in utter despair, the looks of worry on the faces of the staff, the broken, mangled bodies of both citizens and soldiers in the castle's makeshift infirmary, of Jareth currently lying in a coma—dying slowly because a brutal, insane creature was allowed to lead a kingdom. Her sympathy evaporated instantly. Jareth had been right all along, she realized; sometimes the end did justify the means.
"Bring the spies to the throne room," she commanded.
Sarah watched dispassionately as two troll warriors were dragged into the throne room; iron chains bound their wrists and iron shackles hobbled their ankles. They tottered to a standstill about ten feet from the throne, before Ryvak kicked them soundly behind the knees, demanding that they bow to the Queen.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked conversationally.
"You're Erlinwold's whore bitch as soon as the army reaches the city," the elder of the two soldiers laughed caustically.
Sarah had counted on one of them mouthing off. She pointed one gloved finger directly at his crotch and allowed her anger, terror, and confusion to boil over, pushing one bright blue bolt of energy through her glove with devastating results. This was no moderate electrical jolt as Sprog had received. This energy slammed into the unsuspecting troll with incredible force, lifting him off of his feet and sending him into the stone wall with a sickening and nearly deafening slam. Seared, congealing blood seeped through the pants of his uniform while compound fractures of the clavicle and humerus exposed raw, white bone to the air. This was far more than she had intended, but she instantly schooled her features. For this to work, the other one had to believe that she didn't care if she had just murdered his compatriot in cold blood.
"Perhaps you have a different answer," Sarah said offhandedly to the other troll who was staring at the floor desperately trying not to be sick at the scent of burning hair and cooked troll flesh. Unknown to him, several of the goblin soldiers were struggling with the same problem.
"Goblin Queen," he acknowledged, still staring at the floor, occasionally taking a surreptitious glance around the room or at Sarah.
"I need information," Sarah said coolly. "If you provide the answers I need, you may yet live through this unscathed. If not, …" She shrugged carelessly. The acting workshops she had taken in an attempt to win her mother's love and approval were, hopefully, about to pay off.
The injured troll had begun to moan softly. At this, he struggled to speak. "Tell her nothing," he gasped, each word sounding as if he were pushing it past a knife sawing through his throat.
The young troll clamped his lips tightly together and looked again at the floor.
"I'm tired of playing," Sarah hissed. She mentally crossed her fingers and prayed. Physical pain wasn't going to get her what she needed, and truth be told, she was very close to breaking down at the destruction she had wrought already. "If you don't tell me," Sarah threatened coldly, "I will rip it from your mind. And, I don't particularly care if there is anything left of your mind when I finish." She had heard that some high level sorcerers could actually do this; she was betting that he didn't know that she wasn't one of them. She took off her gloves and conjured blue-white electricity that danced in a devastating looking arc across her fingertips. May as well give 'em a good show. She approached slowly, letting the energy build as he continued to stare.
As she came within an arm's length, he suddenly shouted, "Wait. What do you want to know?" he gasped, fear making his speech erratic and hard to understand.
His compatriot was about to cry out again, when Sarah saw Ryvak kick him brutally in the back of the head. Sarah was fairly certain he would now be silent forever, and the guilt rose hot and fresh in her like bile from her stomach. She swallowed hard. Later, she whispered to herself.
Sarah demanded troop movements, battle strategy and attack information. As a low level scout, he gave up what he knew, which turned out to be not much of anything. There was only one thing more he could give her. "The poison," she said at last. "What poison was on the arrow that shot the owl?"
"You mean the Goblin King? We knew it was him. Prince Erlinwold knew he would do the honorable thing, follow the law and go to the High Fae Council. Our spy waited for him at Court, saw him transform and notified us he was heading our way. We ambushed him over the forest."
Sarah felt cold horror as she realized that all of the recent attacks on civilians had been nothing more than a ploy to lure the Goblin King into an ambush.
"The poison," she repeated.
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. There's no antidote. It's black dragon's blood."
Sarah nodded, holding her haughty demeanor, unwilling to break down now. "Which of you shot the owl?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm.
"Kivit, I think," he said as he gestured to his dead compatriot. "He took credit for it, anyway. But there were lots of arrows shot. Kivit just happened to be the best distance archer in the raiding party."
"Dispose of that…mess," she said as she gestured to the dead troll.
"And this one, my Queen?" asked Moreth as he pulled the young troll soldier to his feet.
"Toss him into the oubliette of your choice," Sarah said as she turned back to the throne and seated herself.
"Fetch Athienne," she said to one of the younger goblin soldiers. After she had conferred with Athienne and discovered that black dragon's blood truly had no antidote, Sarah had to fight off another bout of lingering, creeping despondency. Athienne had promised to try, and that was the best Sarah could hope for right now.