Traitor's Luck
Chapter III
By Northstar
Together, Goblin King and Mage entered the banquet hall. Light from seven glorious, clear, enchanted crystal chandeliers shone down in a dazzling rainbow on the other dignitaries. As the other diplomats rose in grudging respect to Jareth, Galadrea covertly looks around, reading the facial expressions, or lack thereof, on the coldly polite guests. This was an affair of state, and as usual at such events, intrigue would be running high with conspiracy keeping pace.
The shimmering magical light glinted off the ornamentation and jewels adorning each of the politicians, but Jareth outshown them all in a magnificent military-style tunic of deep azure highlighted with black blue sapphires. Black gloves, tights, and boots completed the ensemble. By contrast, Galadrea beside him was the sobriety to her king's flamboyance. A simply but elegant set of white samite robes swirled around her slim figure. Gold thread glinted at the hems and the sleeves, and her hair was hanging down her back like a stream of molten silver, held in place by a gold circlet set with a single sapphire that was as dark as her eyes.
Murmurs of appreciation from Jareth's and Gala's apprentices, both current and former, greeted them, but were quickly stifled by the glares from the royal dignitaries that were in attendance. Galadrea felt as if she had stepped into a pool filled with hungry sharks.
"Ah, good evening to you all," Jareth greeted the group, a devilish and mocking smile on his sharply-chiseled face. "Tonight, I have have invited all of you here to help me celebrate the one-thousandth anniversary of my rule here in the Underground. Spare me your false compliments, I know very well that the majority of you would rip my throat out if you could get away with it!" Raising his hands to silence the outraged and utterly insincere replies from his fellow monarchs, Jareth continued.
"That is neither here nor there, however. Tonight is a night to socialize, and to enjoy a magnificent feast which my magical advisor, Galadrea Solardin, has taken great pains in preparing." With those words, Jareth moved to a place at the head of the table, Galadrea taking the place at his right hand. That was the signal for the rest of the guests to take their places. To Gala's right were her brother Indros, dressed in an emerald-green velvet tunic with white pants and black boots. His spun-gold hair was brushed elegantly back and held in place by a white leather ribbon. Beside the half-elf was his fiancee, Natela Vandree, dressed in an indigo-black robe that had silver threads cunningly woven into it that mimicked starlight. Like Gala, she too scanned the crowded hall with her eyes, searching for hints of treason and conspiracy. Such was the way of the Drow race that she would have never thought to do otherwise.
Upon sitting down, goblin servitors in neat, clean outfits quietly began bringing in the first course. Succulent roast meats and leafy green salads were soon filling the long banquet table. Other servitors stood by with trays of glasses and carafes of fayewine and quickly supplied the guest. As if it were a universal signal, the dignitaries relaxed and the apprentices dug into the food. One of Gala's first apprentices, a young man by the name of Joshuan, engaged Natela in a discussion of magical runes and symbols. As the sounds of a merry banquet filled the hall, Gala sipped her wine and turned to her brother.
"You look great, Indros. If I didn't know better, I would say that you've been exercising a great deal!" his sister commented merily. Indros's eyes lightened up as he realized that Gala was in a better mood now.
"Ah, just a little sis. After you left, I thought it would be useful if I learned to use a sword, so I talked a dwarven smith in the town into giving me lessons. He said that you owed him a story, Gala. What was he talking about?" Indros asked, a cheerful but puzzled expression on his face. Galadrea groaned and began to chuckle.
"Oh my! I completely forgot about him," she laughed merrily. "You see, I bought Jareth a beautifully crafted longsword from that dwarf, and he let me have it at a great price, if I promised to return and give him the tale of our adventure." A flicker of remorse crossed her features for a minute. "But with the ban, I wasn't able to return. And to tell the truth, I forgot!" A grin pulled her lips into a merry smile. "I see the rumors of the memories of hill dwarves are long indeed!"
Indros joined his sister in the laughter, and for a space of time, it was as if nothing had changed. Yet, ever at the fringe of Gala's vision, was Jareth, who was deep in conversation with Lord Milgris of the second army of Zaien, which bordered Jareth's kingdom on the northern flank. Currently, that was the only place that even remotely threatened the kingdom, simply because the kingdom of Zaien was a kingdom of gnomes, who had a full array of mechanical war devices. A treaty with Zaien was of the utmost importance.
"More wine, milady?" came a deep, hoarse voice. With an absent nod, she paid no attention to the servitor. As her glass was refilled, she paid particular attention to Jareth's hand gestures. Almost as soon as they had begun working together, Gala and Jareth had worked out a language based on the hand signaling language of the Drow race, thought Gala had altered it so that a number of the gestures were in the language of magic, rather than normal gestures.
*Something's very, very wrong, Jareth, but I can't place what it is!* Gala signed, disguising her gestures as simple emphasis of a point in her conversation with Indros.
*I know,* came Jareth's silent reply. *But I don't think it's any of the diplomats or our apprentices, though.*
"You there, more wine," Jareth said out loud, motioning to a nearby server.
"You majesty, I think King Dornel will most pleased by the terms of the treaty," the dignitary from Zaien commented, pleased himself with the way that things had been handled.
"Huh. Too bad you won't be around to see it, you rat," the winecarrier said, backing up, something held in it's small hands. Silence fell in the hall as Jareth turned slowly to face the server.
"Well well, Hoggle. So, you've finally crawled out of whatever hole you've been hiding in all these decades, eh?" Jareth drawled slowly, rising to tower over the old dwarf. "As if treason wasn't enough, now you've moved onto assassination? You've moved up in the world, old boy," the King said, his voice coldly mocking with an obvious hint of threat in it. However, instead of cowering, Hoggle straightened and his hand became steady as he pointed the magical wand at Jareth's heart.
"Yer gonna pay for yer crimes Jareth, tormenting Sarah all those years ago, and trying to keep her a servant here now that she's been reborn--" Hoggle continued, rage in his voice, until he was cut off by Galadrea.
"What in the name of Bane is going on? Reborn? What in the abyss are you talking about little dwarf?" she interrupted, her voice full of command and power. "Put that wand down before you hurt yourself!" she commanded, holding out a delicate hand as if scolding an insolent child. "Well?"
At her tone towards the diminuitive man, laughter rang out from all present, laugter that broke the thick tension. For the first time, Hoggle was unsure of himself. This certainly wasn't the Sarah he had known. As his hand wavered, he heard a lyrical voice in his mind.
~Strike now, Hoggle!~
~But-but-what if---?~
~No time for that! You can show her the truth later! Now, STRIKE!~
At that final command, Hoggle tightened his grip on the wand. "I hope you rot in hell, Jareth!" he spat, then fired.
A fiery bolt of lightning rushed out of the wand, streaking unerringly for the Goblin King's heart. For Galadrea, time seemed to slow, as the deadly missile approached. Jareth's stunned face told her all she needed to know: he wouldn't be able to get a shield up in time or dodge. That realization was all she needed to know, and that made her choice for her.
"NOOO!" she screamed, her voice filled with hatred and resolve. Before anyone could intervene, Galadrea had placed herself in front of her King, knocking him away. As the bolt struck, time sped up again.
A pain as harsh as that of an dagger stabbed into her breast, stealing her breath from her lungs, searing her throat with the heat of the missile. As Joshuan tackled the assassin, Indros rushed to his sister's side, leaving Natela sitting at the table. As quick as a snake, Vandree followed him.
Gala began to sink down, falling backwards. Recovering, Jareth quickly caught her, a deep wrenching pain ripping him as he saw the damage the bolt had done. His eyes wide in shock and pain, he forgot all about the dwarf, who upon realizing what he had done, had given up struggling, a horrified look on his face.
"Gala? Gala, listen to me!" Jareth hissed as he brushed her hair out of her face. His heart went cold as he looked into her beautiful blue eyes. Already, the light was beginning to fade from them. "Damn it, Solardin, don't you leave me," he commanded, his voice choked with emotion that he couldn't express. At that moment, all else faded. He didn't notice when Indros knelt beside him and took Gala's hand. As Jareth tenderly cradled Gala's broken body, he felt the life force slowly leaving her. As if she knew what was happening, she looked up into his mismatched eyes.
"J-Jareth...?" she whispered, her voice hoarse with pain.
"I'm here, luv, I'm here," he reassured her, not noticing how he had referred to her. At that moment, Jareth was trying to think of anything he could do, anything he could say that would keep the vibrant woman from leaving his side. "Don't leave me, I- I don't think I could go back to living by myself, all alone," he continued, praying with all of his heart that whatever god or goddess was listening would spare the woman who he had just realized meant so much to him.
Sensing all the words he could not express, Galadrea slowly and painfully, with great effort, reached up her soft, fine-boned hand and gently caressed his cheek. "I wish-," she tried to say, couging and choking on her own blood as it trickled from her mouth, staining her pure white robes a dark crimson. "I wish you could have found out sooner," she said between gasps.
With a deep, heart-wracking groan, the king of the goblins cradled the half-elven woman to his breast, staining his jacket with her red blood. As he held her, he felt her breathing slow.
The light in her eyes faded, and then she was gone. Her hand fell lifeless from Jareth's face, leaving a dark streak of blood.
"Gala, no..." her brother whispered as her held her other hand. His pain was as nothing though, compared to Jareth's. As he looked up through heartbroken eyes, he saw a sight the almost stopped his heart. There, on the king's cold features, was a single tear. Bowing his head, the King of the Goblins gently kissed Gala's now-cold lips, and held her close.
At the back of the crowd that had gathered around the king and his fallen advisor stood Natela, a cold smile on her lovely, dark face. Excellent! The dwarf had played his role perfectly. If everything went as planned, Jareth would go off in rage to try to reclaim his newly-found love. And in doing so, seal his own doom.
Wiping the smile off of her face, the evil priestess made her way to Indros's side, a false tear rolling down her cheek.
"Oh, Indros, I'm so sorry..." she whispered, reaching down and embracing him. As Indros held onto her, Jareth slowly rose and lifted Galadrea in his arms. Without another word, the King strode from the banquet hall. As he passed, none had the courage nor the strength to speak to him, merely bowing their heads and calling for their servants. The banquet was over, and they had to decide how to take advantage of what had just occurred.
As the scene faded from the crystal ball, a man's sibilant voice rang out with laughter. Natela had chosen her pawn wisely, and now they could move on to the next step. In the negative dimension, the hooded figure raised an arm and summoned a creature of shadow.
"Go, take this scroll and place it among the Goblin King's papers," he said, holding out an ancient magical scroll. Silently , the shadow complied and slipped through the planes.
Another gesture from the man brought a second creature into view. "Do you have it?" the cowled man asked, eagerly.
With a toothy grin, the demon held up a crystal pendant that glowed faintly with the light of an entrapped soul. "I have it, all right. No one noticed my presence, they were all so concerned with the witch and the king!"
Nodding in pleasure, the cowled man spoke for the final time. "Excellent. Take the pendant to the marilith known as Heratona, and remind her of the pact that she struck with me. We must handle the trap carefully, and I want no setbacks!"
With a nod, the lesser demon left to complete its mission. It would not do to make the dark priest mad after all...the demon shuddered. There were few ways to torture a demon, but the priest knew them all. If the demon messed up, its punishment would be severe. That thought in mind, the demon entered the Abyss, leaving behind the world of mortals and entering the residence of the damned.