Trial By Fire
Chapter III
By Sailor Northstar
Jareth stood smiling at the quiet as the hole closed behind Galadrea. Turning, the Goblin King fixed his gaze on the girl's so-called guides. "And what were you two doing, eh?" he spoke, his voice carrying with it several different threats, though it remained mild in tone. Hashwit fidgited despite himself.
"Er-well, we were helping the girl--"the old gnome began, only to be cut off by Birdbrain.
"No we weren't! YOU were helping her, I told you not too. You see your majesty, he just doesn't listen to me and-" Birdbrain was cut off by the King's arctic voice.
"SILENCE! Both of you. The only reason the two of you are NOT in the Bog of Eternal Stench right now is the fact that I need you to tell me exactly what you know about the girl's powers. Now, start talking," Jareth commanded. Leaning up against one of the labyrinth's walls, Jareth awaited the old creature's answer.
With a deep sigh, Hashwit gave it up as a bad job. No way was he getting out of this one, so he might as well tell the King what he wanted to know. "She is not just an apprentice mage, milord. As you know, she is a student in the Tower of Illumination, specializing in divination. However, she told me that not only is she specializing in divination, she also has quite an extensive repertoire of offensive spells," Hashwit replied, stopping to catch his breath. Birdbrain continued for him.
"From what she told the old geezer down there, her attack magic ranges from simple fire streams to lightning attacks and fire spells, the more destructive the better. She should have been given the test 2 years ago, but held back because she was unable to complete the assignment," the feathered creature informed Jareth. The silence that followed was profound. Neither Hashwit or Birdbrain wanted to see the look on Jareth's face, so they stood there, staring at the floor of the maze. As the silence dragged on, Hashwit and Birdbrain risked glances up. The Goblin King was nowhere to be found.
Dark would have been an understatement for the condition of the place Galadrea found herself. Picking herself up, Galadrea blindly reached out until her hands came in contact with what felt like a wall. Following the wall, she found herself appearing to have gone in a circle. Fumbling, she reached into her satchel and pulled out the small dagger she kept for emergencies. Muttering to herself, Galadrea once again focused her mind and called for the power. "Selune triuta, g'lor te lumos," she spoke in the language of magic, and a soft radiance began to fill the room, emanating from her dagger.
"Good thing I had a continual light spell left over from last night," she said aloud, allowing her eyes to become adjusted to the new light level. In the meantime, she decided to do some exploring. Not there was much to explore. She was in a single room, about twice the size of her room back at the tower. A low bench leaned against one wall, and an old skeleton was piled in another corner. Charming, I really MUST get the name of Jareth's decorator, she thought in disgust, her nose crinkling up just like a rabbit's. There were no doors that she could see, which caused her to wonder, "Is this another one of his royal lowness's puzzles? If so, its not much of one."
Grinning a feral, smug grin, Galadrea opened her spellbook. Before she could flip through it, though, she felt something brush against her boot. Looking down, her stomach began to cramp up. A small crystal sphere was slowly rolling towards the pile of bones. As she watched, the sphere disappeared into the old heap of rags and bones. Sighing, she put away her spell book and slowly started clapping. "Bravo, Goblin King. Can you be any more melodramatic?"
"And here I was hoping to make an impression on your impudent little mind," came a coldly sarcastic voice. The heap of bones and rags was tossed aside, and there stood the the Goblin King himself. Instead of the all black ensemble he had been wearing earlier, he was now wearing brown tights, a white ruffled shirt open to the waist, and a tight black vest. Casually thrown over his arm was a dark brown leather coat, and black boots encased his legs up to the knee. All in all, I think I preferred him in all black, came the nasty, rebellious part of her mind that Galadrea tried to keep locked away. Unfortunately, the minute a handsome male came along, it started voicing its own opinions.
"Well, I'm sorry, Jareth," she replied, her voice oozing insincere apology. "But I don't impress easily." She smiled slowly and leaned against the wall, just as she had seen him do earlier, making sure she was a perfect mockery of himself. ELvish blood certainly had it's benefits. Let's see how far he can be pushed...
Jareth was beyond furious, though he didn't show it except by allowing those tiny little fangs of his show in his smile. He'd be damned if he was going to show the little brat that she was getting to him. Her mockery of him, though, only made it harder to ignore. "Oh really? Well, then, I guess if I can't impress you, I'll have to settle for confusing you," he replied softly, coming closer to her with every word he spoke. It took all of her strength not to shrink away from him. "My dear, play time's over," he whispered gently, and with a strike quick as a snake, he snatched her satchel away from her. Before she could bring her dagger up, he was across the room, studying the wall, her satchel with her spellbook dangling carelessly from one of his white-gloved hands.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! That's mine!" Galadrea shouted, her voice ringing and echoing back upon itself in the confined space. Jareth didn't answer her. In his empty right hand, another of those damn crystal spheres appeared, and Galadrea watched in confusion as he threw it into the wall. Turing back to her, he grinned and gestured to the nine doors that now lined the walls of the oubliette.
"My dear, dear Gala, your brother is being a terrible pain in the ass. I can now see that it runs in the family. My patience with the two of you is wearing thin, so I'm altering the rules," he said, and in his hand a miniature version of the thirteen-hour clock appeared. The hands currently depicted that she was in her 5th hour, but as she watched to her horror, the hands rotated quickly until they rested on the 9th hour. Galadrea was speachless.
"Now, one of these nine doors leads to the castle, three of them lead halfway through the rest of the labyrinth, and the other five lead to the beginning of the my Labyrinth," he explained, and as Galadrea opened her mouth to speak, he reached out and laid a gloved finger across her lips. "Now, the only catch is that you must make do with the spells you have left in your memory. No more consulting your notes, after all," he said, removing his finger, "this isn't an open book exam. IF you solve the labyrinth, I'll give you everything back again. How's that?"
Jareth stepped back to watch her expressions, which quickly ran the entire field from confusion, to startlement, to anger, to outrage, and finally back to confusion. Time for payback, little one.
"Jareth," Galadrea finally said quietly, "I swear that you shall pay for what you have done, do you understand me? I don't care if it takes me decades, I will eventually amass enough power, and when I do, I will come back and level this place to the ground." Reaching out, she gently rested her hand on the Goblin King's breast. As he raised his eyebrows at her action, she gave him a violent shove, sending him to the floor. Blinking in surprise, Jareth was a few moments in recovering. When he did, he found that now it was HE that was confused. How the hell did she keep doing that? It's impossible to predict her. What is wrong with me? I should have no problem sensing what she's going to do next. What makes HER so different? Not even Sarah was this much trouble...
Grimacing, he stood up and dusted himself off. "Honestly, I think you are bluffing, dear child. Cherish the four hours of freedom that you have left," and then he was gone. Galadrea looked around at the doors. They were all of different colors: Red, Blue, Green, Black, White, Silver, Gold, Bronze, and Grey.
"Okay you bastard, you're not as smart as you think!" she said triumphantly, noticing a pattern to all of the doors. After all, the lower realms had been her area of study for the past four years. "The nine doors represent the nine levels of the Abyss. The colors, on the other hand, represent the dragons. The five chromatic colors represent the evil dragons, so those must lead back to the beginning. Gold, Silver, and Bronze are the colors of the noblest of the good dragons. But grey, I just don't get. The metallic doors definitely lead to a point further on in the labyrinth, so that means that this gray one leads to the castle. Or do they?"
Sitting in the middle of the room, Galadrea rethought her conclusion. It would be typical for Jareth to represent himself with one of the noble metallic colors though, his ego is certainly large enough, yet he takes pleasure in being both bad and cunning. The most cunning of the evil dragons are the Reds and Blues, yet, for some reason, I just can't see him identifying himself with the greedy creatures that thrive on bloodshed and carnage. They lack finesse, which Jareth seems to pride himself on. Yet, it seems to easy to choose the grey door. It's so stereotypical, or maybe that's the trick.
"That's got to be it! Hidden in plain sight, among many facets of his personality. All combined into one, yet giving no permanent significance to any," Galadrea triumphantly exclaimed. Rising, she moved confidently to the gray door. Tugging at it, for the door did not seem to want to open, Galadrea dug her heals in. Slowly, inch by inch, the door opened, revealing absolute darkness beyond. Grinning, she held her enspelled dagger out in front of her and stepped into the void...
Enough's enough. Let's go to the ballroom and party!