A/N: You'll note that the chapter titles are lines from David Bowie's songs. ;)
CHAPTER TWO
I'll Run With You
Sarah tore through the garage, pulling down boxes, uncaring of the mess she left in her wake. Why couldn't she find it? A clock ticked inside of her, each second leeching away Toby's life. Jareth had said time would stall until she returned, but the minutes still sped on, counting down in spite of his promise. Had he lied? Or had he meant the stars would stop moving only when she began her quest? She chose to believe the latter. He couldn't be that cruel. Could he?
She scanned the room, deciding what stack of boxes to tackle next when her eyes alighted on the object of her frenzied search. A metal-framed backpack covered in a layer of dust—a remnant from her Girl Scout days. Sarah leapt over piles of junk, snatched it from the dark corner where it had been hidden. She opened it, relieved to find the camping supplies still inside. Mess kit, silverware, first aid kit, canteen, camping shovel, compass, flashlight, matches, knife… The sleeping bag and two-man tent were still strapped to the bottom of the frame. Good.
Sarah slung it over her shoulder, picking her way back to house. In the kitchen, she dug through the junk drawer for batteries, raided the pantry for food, filled the canteen. All while the incessant ticking told she wasn't moving fast enough.
She took the stairs two, three at a time, slammed open the door to her bedroom. The drawers fell out of the bureau as she yanked them open, dumping the contents. Socks. Underwear. Jeans. More socks. Shirts. Sweaters. Whatever she could shove into the pack. She changed out of her shorts and sandals into sturdier clothing. In her closet, she found her old hiking boots. As she laced them up, a glint caught her eye.
Hanging on her vanity mirror was the necklace Toby had given her when she left for college three years ago, the silver pendant reflecting the amber glow of lamplight. Sarah fingered the Saint Christopher medallion, her eyes growing wet. The Patron Saint of Travel. So, you don't get lost while you're away from us, Toby had said when he handed her the box, wearing his lopsided grin. Sarah pulled the chain over her neck, tucking the medallion beneath her shirt, the cold metal resting against her heart as a reminder—a piece of her beloved little brother.
She glanced around, making sure she had everything she might need. Her room looked as though someone had ransacked it, searching in desperation for some treasure, but not finding it. The garage and kitchen were in the same condition. Sarah sighed. There was no time to clean up—not that it mattered. Either she would bring back Toby's soul and gladly spend hours straightening the mess she had made, or she would fail.
Sarah slipped the pack over her shoulders. It was heavy—too heavy, if she remembered the proper pack weight to bodyweight ratio—but she didn't know how long the trek would be or what she'd need. Anything that tipped the scales in her favor was worth the backache.
The crystal ball sat on her desk, glowing faintly like a beacon. Sarah picked it up, unsure how to activate it as she turned it over in her hands. She closed her eyes, picturing Jareth. Nothing happened. She wished on it. Still nothing. Her heart pounded. What if Jareth had lied? What if he watched her now, laughing, delighting in his revenge as she realized his trick?
The orb slipped from her fingers, shattering on the carpeted floor. With sudden force, something tugged at her navel, yanking her sideways at an impossible velocity. Sarah clamped her mouth shut to keep from screaming.
In less than a breath, the sensation dissolved, depositing her on the same hillside overlooking the Labyrinth where she had once stood as a fifteen-year-old. The sky was tawny grey, indicating either twilight or dawn in the Underground.
Sarah stared at the boundless maze, reliving the memories of those harrowing thirteen hours, fresh as if she had only defeated it moments ago instead of years before. How she wished it would only take a run through the Labyrinth to save Toby—that the only dangers she faced were the odious bog, a room full of impossible stairs, and a cunning Goblin King.
"I wondered if you'd changed your mind," Jareth said behind her, chasing her thoughts away with his rich baritone. "But, no. Sarah Williams never backs down from a challenge, does she?"
Sarah turned, unsteady under the weight of her oversized backpack, to face the man who had once been her adversary. Jareth sat on a fallen tree, his leg propped up as he lazily cut a slice from a peach and slid it into his mouth. He had changed from his black Goblin King armor to a poet's shirt and vest, leather pants and knee-high boots. His casualness grated on her.
"Stop time," she said. No pleading, no yelling. A swirl of emotions danced within her—anger, fear, grief, guilt, hope. She bottled them all.
He cut another slice of peach. "Already done—after a fashion."
She turned his words over in her mind, studied them, suspicious. "What does that mean? You promised time wouldn't move, but last I checked, the clocks kept ticking away." She crossed her arms, glared at him.
"Testy, testy." Jareth clucked his tongue. "So quick to accuse me of malice when your pretty mortal head could not possibly comprehend the complexities of time or the centuries it takes to master it." He sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You've ever painted me as the villain."
His words rankled—he had been the villain—but she chose not to rise to his bait. "No matter how long this takes, when I bring Toby's soul back, no time will have passed Above, right?"
Jareth shrugged. "Give or take a few minutes."
Sarah nodded. That was good enough for her. She tingled with anticipation as she surveyed the hilltop, seeking the hidden path for her journey. Opposite the Labyrinth was a wide expanse of golden grass, similar to the prairie lands of the Midwest. "Which way do I go?"
Jareth didn't answer her, concentrating instead on his fruit as if she no longer existed. The urge to shake him, slap the indolence out of him, overtook her. She clenched her fists. He just needed to point, and she'd be on her way. Was that too much to ask? She kept her mouth closed, though, not wanting to trigger one of his mood swings. She learned that lesson the hard way years ago when she'd told him his Labyrinth was a piece of cake.
After several long minutes, he finished his peach and stood, tossing the pit aside. From behind the log, he retrieved a long leather coat and something resembling her pack—archaic and held together with a series of straps. After shrugging on the coat and pack, he looked the part of a world-weary traveler, right out of the eighteen century—except for his regal air. There was no mistaking the Goblin King for a simple wanderer.
"Well?" He arched a brow, as though he'd been the one waiting impatiently.
She eyed him. "You're coming, too?"
"Of course." His tone said she should have assumed as much. "How else would you find the waygate to Saltenne?" He picked at one of his gloves. "Besides, it's been rather dull lately. Not nearly as many runners in my Labyrinth as there used to be."
Anger flashed white hot through Sarah's veins, cracking her veneer of calm. "Listen, I'm here to save my brother, not to entertain you. If you're not going to take this seriously, just tell me where to go and I'll do it myself."
Jareth's eyes narrowed as he stalked toward her. "I assure you, I take this quite seriously. I understand better than you the peril we face." He breached her personal space, compelled her to take a step back. "You're always so ungrateful."
Sarah bit back a snide remark about his type of generosity. He was right. He didn't have to help her at all. "Thank you." She had to force the words out; she couldn't reconcile the Goblin King's shift from kidnapper to rescuer.
He grinned, amusement flickering in his eyes. "There, now. That wasn't so awful, was it—offering your thanks to the wicked Goblin King?" He brushed past her, started down the hill toward the honey-colored landscape.
Sarah stumbled after him, her feet slipping on the rocks and dirt. She was conflicted about having Jareth with her on this journey. Her only experience with him had been six years ago, when he had been her nemesis. Could she trust him not to strand her in the middle of….wherever they were going? Did she have any other choice?
Near the bottom of the hill, a root caught her ankle and she flew, face first, toward the ground. She threw her hands out, and closing her eyes, braced for an impact that never came. Suspended mid-fall, the rocky terrain mere inches from her face, she swiveled her head and found Jareth holding her pack, his brow raised.
"We can't have you marring that pretty face, can we?" he said, righting her. "Do be more cautious in the future. I'd hate to think of this inauspicious beginning as an omen of what's to come." He continued toward the grassy plain.
Sarah glowered at his back, adjusting her pack as she followed. "Thanks."
"Twice in nearly as many minutes." He grinned again, displaying a set of pointed teeth. "Careful, I might come to expect it."
Sarah ignored his comment, her hand going to the medallion tucked beneath her shirt. I can put up with him for you, Toby.
"Why are you doing this—helping me?" she asked as they waded through the seemingly endless sea of tall grass.
"I find it suits me." Jareth glanced at her, assessing her with his mismatched eyes. "And I couldn't pass up the opportunity to put the indomitable Sarah Williams in my debt."
His answer should have bothered her, that she would be obligated to him in any way, but instead she nodded, unfazed. Compassion was not a word she associated with Jareth. Of course he would have an ulterior motive.
He stepped in her path, facing her. "Were you sincere? Or were you carelessly tossing words about in a fit of anguish?"
She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"
"You said you'd do anything—pay any price—to save your brother." Jareth cocked his head to the side. "Were you being sincere?"
"Yes. Yes, I'd give my life for him." The answer slipped from her lips without conscious thought. She meant every word.
"That may be required of you," Jareth said with a nonchalant shrug as he moved aside. "If you're so willing to give anything for this quest, I hope you won't feel slighted that I want some trifling compensation for being your guide. You didn't think me an exemplar of altruism, did you? Of course not. I am, after all, the wicked Goblin King."
"What's your price?" She doubted what he wanted would be "trifling," but she didn't care. All that mattered now was Toby, that his eyes would flutter open, that he would laugh again. If she had to spend the rest of her life in servitude to Jareth to make that happen, so be it.
He gave her a sidelong glance. "Let's not concern ourselves with that now." He inhaled deeply, spreading his hands toward the sky. "Ah, fresh air with nary a hint of reeking goblins."
Sarah stared ahead, refusing to comment. Maybe she did need his help, but she didn't have to be sociable. He irritated her with his blasé attitude. Her brother's life hung in the balance, and he behaved as though saving Toby was his new favorite distraction.
When Jareth started singing quietly, she put some distance between them, to keep from screaming at him. She clung to her frustration; it kept the grief at bay—mostly.
Sarah's feet hurt. Her back ached. Her shoulders were rubbed raw by the straps of her backpack. Sweat pooled in every crevice of her body. Her stomach growled.
They had been walking for hours—days, perhaps—with no break in the scenery, no change in the orange-grey sky. Everywhere she looked, waving blades of amber grass grew to the horizon. This can't go on forever. She repeated the mantra over and over with each step she took, to hold back the tentacles of despair sliding over her heart.
Step, step, step.
She trudged onward, her hand at her chest, pressed against the St. Christopher medallion beneath her shirt. Toby, Toby, Toby. She would walk through this grassland for a year for him, if that's how long it took. Twenty years. Thirty.
Step, step, step. Toby, Toby, Toby.
Her breathing grew labored, lungs stinging from the exertion.
Step, step—
Her right leg buckled beneath her, unable to endure the combination of her bodyweight and the backpack any longer. She fell, knees striking the ground, jarring her body. She dropped to her hands, panting. Get up, Sarah. She commanded her limbs to obey, but they wouldn't move. Get up, dammit! Her body refused. Letting out a scream, she slammed her fist against the trampled grass.
"Well," Jareth said, stopping before her, "finally had enough, have you?" She tilted her head to look up at him. He appeared as refreshed as when they'd set out, not even a bead of sweat on his brow. Figured.
With a growl, Sarah forced herself to stand despite her protesting muscles. "Never. I'm not stopping until I get Toby back."
Something flashed in Jareth's eyes that Sarah couldn't name—pride? understanding?—before his face became a grave mask. "Then, by all means, continue."
Sarah's legs trembled with each step, threatening to give way at any moment. She drew her brows together in grim determination, clutching her medallion through the fabric of her shirt. Toby, Toby, Toby.
"How much farther?" she asked, her voice strained.
Jareth raised a brow. "To the waygate?" He paused, turning as he scanned the landscape in every direction. "I don't know. I've never attempted this particular route before."
Sarah stopped short. "What? Do you even know where it is?"
"Yes." The barest hint of irritation seeped into Jareth's voice. "I prefer to travel by other means."
White wings fluttering in her face, her heart pounding, the storm raging outside. Sarah shivered as the vivid memory flashed through her mind. "You're the owl."
"Perceptive." Jareth smirked. "It only took you, oh, six of your years to put it together. So very clever, and yet, not."
Sarah ignored the barb, though she wanted to make her own cutting remark to wipe that smug expression off his face. "So, you've flown to the waygate?"
Jareth shook his head. "Like I said, you're not being clever. Think, how did you get here?"
"Teleportation." Or something. Whatever he called it. She rubbed her hand over her face, groaning. "Could you just—" she paused, waving her hand, "—magic us there?"
Jareth shrugged. "Certainly."
Sarah closed her eyes in exasperation. "Then why," she asked through a clenched jaw, "are we hiking?"
"You never asked." He raised a brow. "You assumed we needed to walk, and far be it from me to deny you your expectations."
The anger and frustration she'd stifled exploded out of her in a shriek. It was all a game to him—a stupid game! "I can't believe you! We wasted all this time because I didn't ask you to teleport us to the waygate?!" She shoved him, almost losing her footing in the process. "You are horrible—horrible!"
He captured her hands, his expression unreadable. "There is no 'time' to waste, don't you recall? You, however, wasted precious energy because you cling too tightly to your preconceptions." He loosened his grip on her hands but didn't release her. "If you don't let go of those, you will fail. Nothing is what it seems in this realm—nothing. Not even me."
Sarah opened her mouth to argue and snapped it closed, deflated by his words. Again, he was right. The knowledge chaffed like the straps of her pack. And yet, why did he have to be circuitous? Why couldn't he have told her this at the beginning, offered to transport them? Because he's the wicked Goblin King. He would help her, but only as much as his crooked nature would allow.
"You've made your point," she said, swallowing her pride. "Will you take us to the waygate—please?"
He tipped his head to the side. "Since you asked." He extended an arm toward her, pointing over her shoulder. "It's there."
Sarah turned, her eyes falling on a wall—for lack of a better word. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It cut across the grassland, extending in either direction as far as she could see. It also extended into the sky indefinitely. Instead of brick or stone, however, the wall was made of an amber liquid, faintly translucent, which defied gravity, running upward like a reverse, soundless waterfall.
Her heart leapt in both relief and fear. Toby was somewhere on the other side of it. She reached out to touch it, but Jareth held her back.
"Not yet." He released her when she nodded. "It is rather impressive." He heaved a sigh. "Do you still want to look for your brother?"
Sarah glanced at him. "I'm not giving up before I start."
Jareth smiled. "No, you wouldn't. But once we cross that barrier, there will be no turning back."
Once we cross that barrier… He was continuing on with her, and she was relieved. His infuriating lesson taught her that she needed him. Toby needed him.
"So, either we—I succeed, or I die trying." She wasn't sure if his life would be in danger at all, or if he would follow her to the end, knowing his changeable nature.
"More or less," Jareth said. "Do we go on, or do we turn back?"
"I need to get my brother back." Sarah looked at the wall again, goosebumps prickling her arms. "I have to go in."
"Well then, this is where the excitement begins," he said close to her ear, extending his hand toward her. "Shall we?"
Sarah stared at his hand for a moment before taking it. For better or for worse, the Goblin King was her comrade-in-arms. Her heartbeat accelerated as they drew near the barrier.
"Whatever happens, keep moving forward." He squeezed her hand, hesitating at the threshold of the waygate. "And don't let go."
Sarah nodded mutely. She gave into the instinct to close her eyes as they stepped into the liquid, expecting some kind of wetness—cool or warm.
Instead, she was barraged with a wave of excruciating pain.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you're willing to share them!