Chapter Four

They entered the Labyrinth through the vine-covered gates. Sarah started to the right, and Jareth followed her. They stepped over fallen branches and did their best not to touch the oozing walls.

Sarah remembered the Labyrinth as being fantastic and somewhat terrifying, but nothing like this. Back then, everything had glittered like it had been dipped in powdered diamonds, but now the eye fungus wept tears of blood, contributing to the odd, slick, oil-like substance which now coated everything. Thirteen years ago, though she had been agonizing over the loss of her brother and the difficulty of her task, there had been a certain excitement. A feeling she was acting out one of her favorite plays. A heroine to save the innocent babe in the castle and deny a king.

Now, however, she was filled with a sense of dread. She slowed her steps so she and Jareth walked abreast through the long corridor. It was strange to have him so close for so long. Their contact had been short when she had traveled his realm before.

Her stomach twisted as she looked at him, and a thread of fear snaked into her mind. I don't know him. Not really. She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh before asking, "How did this place change so much?"

Jareth glanced at the walls to either side. "The Labyrinth chooses its ruler. When your world went dark, he offered the first artifact in exchange for knowledge on how to compel the Labyrinth to accept him. I refused. There is no forcing the Labyrinth to do anything."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the Labyrinth is sickening. It needs a connection to a Goblin King. So long as it has existed, it has had someone. Now it does not. I do not know what this means for its wellbeing."

They walked in silence for a time before Jareth stopped, peering down at a crack in the wall before crouching before it, head tilted like an owl.

Can he really turn into an owl? Gods, what was real and what was part of a dream?

"I wonder if he's alive," he murmured.

Sarah knelt near Jareth, their knees almost touching. "Who?" she asked, but as she did, she heard what sounded like a cough coming from within. A little creature inched out of the dark crevice, and her eyes widened in sudden remembrance. This was the little worm who had shown her the way the last time she'd been here.

The worm was covered in soot, with almost no hair and fever-bright eyes. He looked around, disoriented before his gaze fell on Jareth. "Sire," he croaked. "You're back?"

Sarah looked at Jareth, and what she saw shook her to the core. I really don't know you, do I? While he was not crying, his eyes glistened, and his lips were in a thin, white, hard line. When he spoke, his voice trembled with emotion. "What happened to you?"

The little creature coughed again, the sound wracking and fluid-filled. "Kozack, my lord. He cares no' for us little creatures. The miasma comes at night, and our lungs canna stand it." His head bowed. "The missus died yesterday."

Jareth put a hand out to the worm in a coaxing gesture. "Will you come with me, goblin mine? I would keep you safe."

A fat tear rolled over its soot-streaked cheeks, making tracks as it went. "No, sire," he said in a soft voice. "I'll be joinin' the missus soon. It is better this way."

Jareth closed the hand he had extended to the worm into a fist, his eyes squeezing shut in the same instant. He stood, silent but visibly trembling with suppressed emotion.

"I'm so sorry," Sarah said, canting her voice low and trying to make her words as warm and comforting as possible though she felt nothing but shock. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

The worm looked at her, his eyes seeming to clear for a moment. "Oh, it's you." A little smile curled at his mouth, but he shook his head in answer to her question. "I'm just a worm. I'll be fine."

Sarah wanted to say something more but could not seem to find the words. She rose, hugging her arms, trying to dislodge the sudden chill. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jareth practically vibrating. Has he changed that much, or did he always care?

Again, the sense of him gave her pause. She sought to balance the impression of him as her adversary against the man he was showing himself as now. And, whispered a small voice in the back of her mind, you've been thinking of him all these years...

She had. She knew now. Those eyes she had tried to get just right in all her little doodles were before her now. How that gaze had haunted her. It all made sense.

"Can you point the way to the castle?" Jareth asked, drawing her attention back to the worm.

He sniffed and turned up his face, eyes narrowed at the former Goblin King. "You must find it yourself, majesty." He shook his little head, and she saw fresh tears gather. "If'n you'll pardon me, sire, I think I'll have a little rest now."

Sarah and Jareth watched the worm slide back into his hole, each motion trembling, his breath coming out in wheezing gasps.

Jareth's fists were clenched tight. Without thinking, she reached out and took one of the hands in hers. The feel of him was like an electric jolt, but she held on anyway, turning to face him. Jareth gazed at her. A cool, expressionless mask hid his thoughts, yet his hand relaxed in her grip until their fingers were almost twined together.

"We'll beat him," Sarah said, her voice soft. "And I'll help you."

I will. The thought was savage. He may be a kidnapping, tight-pants-wearing, glittery nutjob, but I know he cares about this place infinitely more than Kozack.

###

Jareth was distracted, and it was all her fault.

Sarah had touched him. Willingly touched him to provide some semblance of comfort when she saw his distress. He found his gaze returning to the top of her head as she walked before him, wondering what thoughts were hidden there. Did she think of him the way he had thought about her over the years? No, don't be ridiculous. She did not remember who you were; the Labyrinth had protected itself and rid the memory. Though... he frowned. I knew there was something different about her. No one else has conquered the Labyrinth.

He pondered this, mentally working through all the fae histories he could remember. It had been years since he had studied the subject in depth.

They were past the dark, pulsating stone which marked the beginning of the Labyrinth and now walked through hedgerows. Here, the touch of Kozack was clear. The once-neat junipers were overgrown, covered with thick, twisting black vines which sported wine-red leaves and wicked thorns. Jareth felt the malice radiating from the Labyrinth like a physical thing, oily and hot on his skin.

Whatever the usurper has done to you, I will put this to rights. He remembered the Labyrinth as a warm, reassuring presence in his mind. It had been the only constant in his life, one of the few beings—if a being is what you would call it—that had helped assuage the isolation which plagued him. Its loss was staggering. More difficult to bear with than he could have possibly imagined.

Jareth attempted to reach out with what magical senses remained to him. He could sense his reserves were depleted from taking them through the worlds, but some of it returned to him as they walked. Aside from overt magic—to will his way through the walls, for instance—he was allowed to use the abilities which he still possessed to conquer the Labyrinth, and the skills of a fae were many indeed. But he had grown with the feel of the Labyrinth and the touch of its power always with him, and he still did not understand all his limitations now that he was on his own.

It felt like trying to put together a puzzle without seeing the picture, assembling it by shape alone. It was still quite possible to accomplish, only it was counterintuitive and needlessly crippling.

The sense of something pulsed out from the right, and Jareth threw out an arm to stop Sarah. She ran into him, gave a small grunt of surprise, and had opened her mouth to say something when he shushed her.

The hedge where he had felt the presence rustled, and he tensed, Sarah falling still beside him.

The Wiseman shambled onto the path, his hands flapping about his face as though he were warding off fairies. The hat on his head was crooked and dirty, the bird atop it slumped forward, wheezing. Jareth called out, "Wiseman!"

The bent old man made a grumbling noise and looked around, his milky eyes narrowed. "Who?" he asked, his voice low and quavering.

A heated flash of anger slammed through him as he neared his subject and saw the deep lacerations which covered his visible skin, the hands and face in particular. "What happened to you?"

Rheumy eyes peered at him. "Your majesty?"

"Yes," he said, gentling his voice. He reached out and grasped the Wiseman's shoulder, steadying him. "What has happened to you?" he repeated.

The grumbling, quavering voice was difficult to understand. "Mm. Damnable thorns everywhere. Took over my chair."

The hat on the Wiseman's head let out a bird-like chuckle, and Jareth's attention was drawn to it, noting as he did that it also was covered in scratches which wept beads of dark blood. "We've been wandering for weeks! Every time he sits, the vines creep in. Sometimes we can't help it. We're—" it sighed. "So tired."

"Can't you leave the hedge maze?" Sarah asked, coming up beside him.

The Wiseman seemed not to hear her, but the bird's head perked up. "It's you." It sounded unsurprised. "We are blocked. Anytime he tries to go, the thorns grow faster. Right before your eyes."

"Kozack," Jareth gritted out. "He does so delight in torment." He kept his grip on the Wiseman and closed his eyes for a moment, working up a summoning. It was hard. A grating pull deep within. Now that he no longer had the Labyrinth and its magic. Nevertheless, he managed to summon a shaded, cushioned chair which he guided the old man into. "I have left some of my power in this," he said in a soft voice, speaking only to the hat now as the Wiseman began to snore loud the moment his rear touched the seat. "It should remain free of the thorns for some time. Rest well."

The bird said nothing more, tilting forward as it, too, fell into a deep sleep.

Sarah was there. "That was kind of you."

He did not look at her. It still hurt to do so, even after all these years. A sweet hurt, but, nonetheless. He cleared his throat. "He is my subject, if not in name than in heart. It is difficult to see them so mistreated."

He moved away from the slumbering man and took a moment to compose himself, running a hand over his eyes to clear his vision of the awful, poisonous landscape. The Labyrinth, in its current form, felt sick. He had always thought Kozack a vicious goblin, but he had never imagined this.

Sarah stood close to him, enough so he could feel the line of heat from her body. "What can I do?"

He glanced at her and was stuck, captivated again by the brilliant jeweled depths of her eyes. "Help me find the artifacts. As I said before, you were the only one to have ever beaten this Labyrinth but me, and the Labyrinth smoothed my path. Your skills brought you through in the past. Now I need you to use those same instincts to help me and my people." He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he did not want to see her flinch away. He had played the villain to her heroine too well, and though she seemed to have warmed to him, he was not sure she would accept him. And she is to be married, he thought with a twist to his stomach.

"What are the artifacts?"

"A crystal, a pendant, and a white feather. They are the possessions of the rightful ruler of the Goblin Kingdom. They act independently of the current ruler when a challenger is presented and have hidden within these walls as a test." He gestured at the hedge. "They will be protected. Guardians, creatures, or tasks set to challenge and stop us from acquiring them."

Sarah bit her bottom lip and his gaze caught the motion. "I remember the crystals and the necklace you wore, but... oh." She smiled. "You can't turn into an owl, can you?"

"Not without the Labyrinth's token. The owl is the guardian of the goblins. One must be the guardian or the king if he is to retain the power." Jareth pursed his lips at the thought. The freedom of flight, a liberty he had possessed for almost three hundred years, had been denied him since the uprising. While he was becoming accustomed to non-magical means of transportation, he still mourned the loss. He shook his head. "As you can imagine, they're all small and would be difficult to find overall, except guardians are a good indication they'll be nearby." He waved a hand. "That, and your instincts should be enough."

He said nothing about the final task. Could not. If he did, what in the name of all the gods would she do? Run? Sleep with him out of pity or duty? That was no true seduction. He wondered if he could accomplish the challenge, considering their history, but... oh, but I have wanted her for so long.

Sarah looked pensive. "To be clear, I'm not one hundred percent sold on this natural instinct thing you claim I have. The last time I was here, I was desperate to find my brother, but," she bit her lip again, eyes flickering over the overgrown hedges and the Wiseman who was now muttering in his sleep. "This is terrible. And my friends..." she looked around again, as though expecting them to materialize. "What do you think he's done to them?"

Jareth took a moment to think. "If all goes well," he said, being careful with his words. Words have power. "And I regain my throne by the end of the four days left of the original thirteen months, then nothing afflicted upon your old companions will have any lasting effect. I can restore them. Time is a strange thing here, but it bends to the will of the Goblin King."

"Four days? That's really all?"

"Yes."

She frowned. "But you said you had thirteen months. Why have you waited so long to come back?"

His fingers twitched, and once more, he felt the loss of his powers. The crystals would have helped explain this. Would have shown her the truth of his words. "I was badly injured in the castle siege. I fled, and where I ended up was—is—a peculiar place. Time does not pass in the normal way. I was lucky I was able to escape when I did, that it has been only a little over a year, and not a century." The thought made his skin grow cold.

"So... you were trapped somewhere and couldn't get away until today?"

They started walking again, moving toward the castle visible in the far distance. He let her lead. "Not necessarily," he confessed. "I was in your world for thirteen days. I had to see to my hurts."

Some wounds take longer to heal than others.

He had appeared in the Aboveground bloody and broken. The between world had shredded him, and he had spent all that time piecing together the shards of his mind and body. He was thankful the thought of her, of Sarah, had brought him to a safe, empty house where he could go about the work. The sword wound had healed easy enough, but drawing the fragments of his consciousness and soul out of the void had been a long, agonizing process.

And he had wanted to watch her. To see.

"But you're okay now, right?" she asked. "You're not going to pass out on me or anything because, to be honest, that would suck. I don't think I can drag you around."

His lips twitched upward. "No, I will not lose consciousness."

"That's good." Her voice came out distracted, distant-sounding. He could see her frown as she picked a path seemingly at random and started down it, careful to avoid the thorns which reached ever further toward her, snagging at her hair and clothes. Jareth sent a gentle push of power forward, and the vines began to recede. Not a great deal, but enough. Then she asked, "Who died? You said you could restore my friends, so... who died?"

Jareth went to reach for her but stopped himself. She caught his movement and her gaze found his, steps faltering. They came to a stop on the broken path, and he saw moisture beginning to accumulate at the corners of her eyes. He clenched his hands into fists and relaxed, not glancing away though the sight of her in pain was like a lance to his own heart. "Sir Didymus," he said. "And Ludo."

The thought of the great, shaggy beast made Jareth clench his hands again. He was a gentle creature. He remembered the moment as a picture in his mind's eye, the mighty winged beasts falling upon the red-furred monster with single-minded ferocity. There had been no reason to target him.

Her voice shook. "How?"

"They fell when the castle walls were breached, and the Kin first swept through the city."

Sarah's voice hardened and no longer shook. A tear slid down the curve of one cheek. "Let's find those artifacts and depose that bastard."

Author's Note:

I'm sick, so I took the day off work. It's officially the weekend! *cough, wheeze*

Close enough.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I may upload another chapter on Sunday, I'm unsure. We'll see how the Beta goes.

Love you all, thank you for the lovely comments and, as always, if you could please leave a contribution in the little box.

Xoxo,

CrimsonSympathy