One Feather 4

Both Sides Now

Even in the dorm's communal shower, a tug behind her naval told Sarah that something different was about to happen. Her brow furrowed of its own accord. Thus far in her new life, different usually meant bad. Her stomach twisted. Sarah dropped her washcloth. And then, with a flash of inspiration, she knew.

A young father wished his baby boy away. The teenaged mother cried, begging her boyfriend to rescind his hasty words. His-her-their-the goblins swarmed around the couple, cackling at the expressions on their faces. Tears streamed down the girl's face; his was red and blotchy. They held each other—Sarah half expected the old king in all his black-spiked finery. He should intrude on them, blasting chill nonchalance at their unhappiness, while chiding their own lack of responsibility.

Sarah paused, shivering as she shut the off the tap. Wrapping herself in the towel, she prepared the transport spell.

Shimmering back into space, she quickly realized that she wasn't materializing in the castle. She caught a hazy glimpse of a small, dingy apartment with faded pink floral patterns instead of her cool green castle chamber.

She gritted her teeth to fight her own spell. She'd have no authority wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. She assumed she needed authority, to confront a young woman anything like she'd been. But no time for revelations now.

Yanking hard on the magic, she landed unceremoniously on her castle settee. The call kept pulling at her stomach. Her towel disappeared, lost in the ether between worlds. She felt ill. Ignoring her nudity, Sarah trotted to the wardrobe, wondering what authoritative ensemble to wear to her first summons as guardian of unwanted children. Once again, the wardrobe supplied without being asked. As she opened the door, shining black silk swirled up her legs and around her neck. Wind whipped through her hair.

Blinking twice, Sarah looked at her reflection. Every inch the goblin queen, her breath hitched in her throat. Sarah swallowed, found she couldn't resist the call any longer, and let the magic take her.

x x x x

The most beautiful woman Mark had ever seen shimmered into existence. A split-skirted black gown perpetually swirled around her high-booted legs. A tight corset, impossibly tiny waist, and high collar accentuated her feline grace and savage nobility. Her sable hair blew back, swept up in elegant curls, yet somehow loose, but never in her face. Every angle of her features was perfection, delicate and hard at the same time. Even the tight-lipped disdain on her face did not mar her cruel beauty; he couldn't help longing for her smile, her favor, and her embrace.

Even Tracy seemed taken aback by the power radiating around the woman, though the stranger's fierce beauty affected her with more jealousy than desire. "Mark," she stammered, as if their unusual visitor couldn't hear, "that's really, really….you mean those stories you told me….they're true?"

"Tracy," he warned, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Mark felt every individual hair on the back of his neck standing up straight, one at a time.

"I am the Goblin Queen," the beautiful woman stated placidly, as if they should have known. One perfect eyebrow rose. "You called on me?"

"We called on the Goblin King…" Mark corrected, wishing a powerful but ugly man could replace the authoritative siren. She gave him terrible ideas. They flashed across his mind's eye despite every attempt to stop them.

"You have nevertheless wished away your own helpless infant." A flawless crystal spun aimlessly through her long fingers.

Tracy threw herself to the floor. Mark thought the gesture made her look like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut. "Please," his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend begged, prostrate at the Queen's feet. "I need my baby back. Mark didn't mean it."

"Oh he didn't?" she sneered, still lovely with her lip curled. "And how do you know what he meant?"

The Queen's penetrating gaze leveled on him. Mark thought she could see his very soul. "Well, I didn't, I mean….Tracy we can't." Against his will, he imagined the alien siren undressing him. He shuddered, fixing his gaze on Tracy. "You know that. Your parents, my job, money, school."

"How could you?" the girl wept. "Our little boy, sent to evil, nasty goblins."

"We can't even afford him." Mark shook his head. "He'll have a better life."

"Will he live?" Tracy asked, wringing her hands. She peered up at the woman before her, even duller beside the brilliant black glow.

She nodded, invisible wind still whipping through her tresses. "He will become one of us."

High-pitched chortles echoed from every crevice of the room.

Mark shuddered, remembering the horde of goblins who appeared to carry out his wish. Their little claws clicked on the floor like giant insects, tearing through curtains and upholstery. They delighted in scaring others only slightly less than in the havoc they caused.

"But you're the Queen of the Goblins," Tracy tried again. "So will he be…?"

"Trace," he cut in, not wanting to hear the answer. "We don't have to throw away our lives. He'll be fine."

Tracy's face paled.

"I'm waiting," said the Goblin Queen, casually studying her nails.

"Waiting?" Tracy choked. "Mark, what does she mean?"

"Nothing," he stammered, knowing she didn't know all of the legend.

In one elegant gesture, the queen produced another elegant crystal orb in her left hand, then in her right. The globes danced around her palms, mesmerizing them both. "Do you want to try and win him back?" she hissed. "He's there in my castle, beyond the goblin city and my Labyrinth."

As the crystals danced, Mark caught glimpses of both the treacherous journey and blissful, baby-free nineteen-year-old life: rock concerts and dank oubliettes, keg parties and malicious fairies, sports cars and shifting stone walls, alternately caught his eye.

Then, from dark recesses of his mind, he heard Tracy say, "I'll do anything." And the Queen nodded.

Suddenly they stood on a windswept orange plain, staring at a thirteen hour clock that would count out their failure.

She left them without a backwards glance; Mark couldn't help staring at her shapely back. The tall weeds parted before their queen. The wind carried ghost strains of her last instructions as she vanished. "You have thirteen hours to solve the labyrinth, before your little boy becomes one of us forever." Mark shuddered and trudged towards the gate.

x x x x

Sarah couldn't bring herself to say 'such a pity' even though his words burned on her tongue so badly she knew they were an intended part of the script. But what she'd seen was a tragedy, not some sarcastic pity. Although grateful for the strength of his spells, his foresight, assistance, and preparation, Sarah decided that a new queen could write a new script. She even sent a message to her citizens, telling them to ignore the runners and let them pass without ill will. If the young couple asked the right questions, she'd even permit her denizens to help. She knew the Labyrinth itself would still provide plenty of dangerous twists; even as the once-victorious ruler, Sarah didn't enter its walls herself.

She tried not to watch the baby's underage parents struggle through her kingdom, but soon found she couldn't help herself. The little boy cried far too frequently for her to focus on chemistry problems, and something in her objected to doing homework in full Goblin Queen capacity and regalia. So she bounced the fine little chap on her knee and watched his parents spend more time squabbling with each other than trying to make their way forward. The ordeal sickened her and she had no idea what to do with the baby.

Once the wardrobe clothed her, replying to her summons seemed easy enough. She'd missed being on stage and glimpses of the young man's dreams made her skin crawl. He wanted easy fame and fortune. He saw the child as a set back, an unexpected consequence of his pleasure-loving life. And though the girl was not brilliant, Sarah saw a smothered compassion that ran deep into her pure heart. For the young mother alone, Sarah wanted peace. Luckily, the old king's lingering spells had guided most of her moves, but now the magic faded to a dull simmer, providing no guidance on what to do with the baby. Sarah realized she didn't really know what would have happened to Toby. If the stolen children were to become goblins, Sarah wasn't sure she knew how to change them, or if she could even bring herself to do so. If the occasion arose, she hoped the old king's magic would suggest a solution, preferably one she could accept, or at least stomach.

Watching them, Sarah knew, or hoped, that she hadn't been so foolish. At least she'd cared and realized her mistake once she'd arrived. She'd risen to the challenge for her brother, her family, for the friends she made along the way, and for herself.

This pair was obviously doomed. Though the girl wanted her child back, she lacked stamina after her pregnancy and chocked on fear that clouded her drive. The man simply wanted to fail. Sarah hated him for it. They couldn't stop bickering to make a decision and feared too much to set out alone. Nevertheless, Sarah even tried to slow time down, just a little, to let Tracy hold her son again. The magic refused to cooperate.

At last she could do nothing to stall the thirteen hours longer. Though the young couple skirted two oubliettes, they hadn't made it past the Labyrinth's outskirts. Sarah sighed, gathered herself, and went to announce their failure.

When she returned, fighting tears herself, but unable to completely abolish traditional rules she barely understood, she found the baby waiting for her.

"Please," Sarah prayed, closing her eyes. "Please." She called on the old king's magical traces with all her might. She wished the baby back to his parents. She imagined the feathers that comforted her each time a hard decision needed to be made. She radiated gratitude for his helpful spells that allowed her to keep her new kingdom marginally functional.

Sarah opened her eyes. The baby had spit up, but he certainly hadn't disappeared.

Sarah sighed. She'd never really thought to wonder what happened to the Goblin King's wish-aways. While running the Labyrinth, the image of green skin and boils covering Toby kept her focused, but she'd never felt exactly sure of his words. He so often twisted them. Sarah supposed Toby could have become just about anything. For all she knew, he might lived a fairytale life better than her younger self had ever dreamed. She did know she couldn't handle college, a kingdom, and an infant.

Frustrated, she did a mediocre job on the chemistry problems while rocking the infant in a makeshift cradle, determined to sleep on the matter. Of course, the baby didn't see fit to let her sleep.

In the morning, since no better answer came and the baby's crying induced a fierce headache, Sarah decided to change the script. Tracy loved and deserved her young son. She'd bend the rules just this once and return the child. Putting all her will into the transportation spell, she laid the little boy in his crib in the flowery apartment in the wee hours of the morning.

She hoped Tracy would remember the experience only as the dream she spun for her—a prophetic one, warning her of Mark's ambition and faithlessness. Sometimes, Sarah wished she too remembered the Labyrinth as nothing more than an educative vision. Sighing, she returned to her dorm and settled in for a few hours of much needed rest.