Traitor's Luck
Chapter IV
By Northstar
Disclaimer: The disclaimer is in chapter one. If you have got this far, you don't need to read it again. Part songfic, since I thought the song fit this chapter. It's from Vision of Escaflowne, which I don't own. Enjoy!
The solitary sound of a tiny bell chimed out a music-box tune into the solemn chamber. On a bier cloaked in white, at the far end of the chamber, lay the body of Galadrea Solardin. As the majestic, solitary figure stood in vigilance, the words to the tune ran through his head.
So, Is everybody this lonely when they're in love?
Do they embrace a pain that's even deeper than the darkness?
Lonely in love...that was a feeling the goblin king had experience in. Almost a century ago, he had revealed his heart to another young girl, much like Gala, and had it broken. In response, he had kept everything and everyone away that might stir those feelings again. And for a century, it had worked...but then Gala had come and through her existence had cruelly ripped open the old scars.
Thinking back, his eyes oblivious to the shrouded body, Jareth instead saw an elvish face, framed by long white hair, filled with determination and the fire of life. Her crystal clear blue eyes blazed in challenge to his rules. Then, a few years later, filled with sympathy and some other emotion that he had refused to acknowledge as she helped him solve the problem of his powers.
It's all to make us shine,
I just know it!
And shine the two had. Galadrea had been an excellent companion in the study of the magical arts, with an inquisitiveness and a facility for bending rules that complimented his own. Together, they had trained several apprentices in magic, and for the past year, Jareth's kingdom had been THE center of magical study in the civilized kingdoms of the Underground.
I love you, I love you
I'm gazing at you with my heart!
I believe--I believe in you,
Even on the darkest of nights!
Gala had trusted in him, believed in him, even when she knew she might have been in the gravest of danger from him. Jareth closed his eyes as he remembered the darkness of the prison that had held him after his blunder in the tower. Unable to escape, his powers gone, his mind in complete confusion, he had given up, not knowing what else to do. It was for only a moment, but he had given up. Then, a ray of soft light had appeared. Galadrea had come and set him free, even helping him figure out the mystery of his powers. All because that somewhere, deep inside herself, she had believed in him...
I call out to you now, with my tears,
But I don't need any promises,
That's the precious strength that
you've given to me!
Then, her face as she lay dying swam before his eyes. Tears, whether of pain or love he didn't know, had trickled from her eyes as she caressed his face. Then, she was gone. With a ragged sigh, Jareth brought himself back to the chamber, with it's soft light faintly giving room to see by. As he listened to the unnatural stillness, he realized that the music box Gala had so loved had run down. Walking forward, he angrily reached out a hand to wind it again, but stopped. Instead, he gently closed his hands around the rosewood ornament, and with a silken cloth, slowly wrapped the music box. As he turned, a light breeze stole the covering shroud from Gala's face.
Almost reverently, the King leaned forward and brushed a hand lightly against her hair, which had turned back to its pure white upon death. All of a sudden, a deep anger filled his heart. Once before he had stood by and let his love, Sarah, slip away from him, and live out a happy life married to man she loved. Hundreds of times he had wished it had been him, but after her rejection, his stubborn pride had refused to allow him to go to her. Now, another woman who he realized he had come to love as much as Sarah had slipped away from him also, a woman who secretly returned his love.
Jareth's hand clenched into a fist, and his grip on the music box tightened. Well, damned if he was going to let death claim Galadrea. This time, he wasn't going to stand by as she was taken away. With a violent turn, Jareth strode out of the chamber, and headed for his study. There had to be a way to reverse things...
"Jareth, it's dangerous! Calling spirits back from the dead is a dangerous trick at best, and more often deadly. My sister is dead, don't make her death into a mockery!" Indros pleaded in both anger and fear. Most often when spirits had been called back to the realm of the living, they had been violently angry. When they had actually been called back to their bodies by mages, the results were even more unpleasant, with the spirit trapped in a rotting body, becoming an intelligent, free-willed zombie. Such was an anathema to both elves and half-elves. Now, Jareth, who professed to have loved his sister, was going to desecrate all that she had held dear.
"Damn it, Indros, you don't know what you're talking about! Besides, I refuse to fail. I am the King of the Goblins, I am immortal, and I don't take orders from anyone, least of all you!" Jareth replied matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes away from the powdered circle he was creating. When finished, it would be a complete pentagram, which would act as a necessary gateway to bring Galadrea's spirit back to them.
With a hiss of anger, Indros pulled his hair back into a ponytail, which somewhat resembled Jareth's. As if she had sensed trouble, Natela entered the room, her eyes instantly taking in Jareth's coldly calm mask and Indros's honest, anger-flushed face. More importantly, she saw the symbol and pattern that Jareth was creating and her face darkened. If he went forward with what she was sure he was trying to do, Jareth would ruin the plan. He would fail to bring Gala's spirit back, and give it up for lost. It would be impossible to destroy him. Natela needed Jareth to travel to the Abyss, away from his center of power. Resolving herself to something she had not wanted to do, she took a deep breath.
"Jareth, Indros, I've got some very, very bad news," she spoke out, startling the two men. Behind her, several of Jareth and Gala's apprentices, who had heard Natela's voice, came into the room. Jareth looked at the drow in complete contempt and mockery. Indros face went from flushed to a sickly gray color.
"And how, pray tell, could things get any worse?" Jareth asked, a decidely dangerous threat apparent in his voice. Indros looked into Natela's eyes, and his face regained a little of it's normal color.
"Please, Natela, we need to know what else has gone wrong," he gently asked.
With a nod, Natela kept a smirk from her face. Hook, line and sinker! "I was going over the banquet hall after everyone had left, and I found something I didn't like," she said, her face going extremely grave. "I picked up traces of a demonic presence, and using my magic I created a recreation of events, and I think you should see what I found."
By now, all of the apprentices had come into the study, and Indros and Jareth traded glances. "Please, show us," Joshuan, the most senior of the former apprentices pleaded, his deep baritone rumbling through the large room. With a wave of her hand, Natela called forth a vision of the banquet hall as it had been two nights before.
As the scene unfolded, the dwarf Hoggle stepped forward at Jareth's request for more wine. As all assembled watched the recreation of events, Natela covertly looked around. Indros's face was full of pain, while Jareth's face had gone even stiller, a dangerous fire flickering in his eyes. "Now," she whispered into the silence, "watch the left-hand corner!"
As the scene of Galadrea's death unfolded, they saw a figure outlined in dark red appear in the recreation. The red figure was of horrific appearance, and all present knew that it was a lesser demon. Anyone who studied magic easily recognized such creatures! What shocked everyone was the fact that in it's clawed hand, the demon had a crystal pendant. As the miniature version of Jareth cradled the dying Galadrea in his arms, the demon raised the pendant, and a black ray of light shot from the pendant and into Gala's body.
Then, a pale blue shadowed seemed to float up out of Galadrea's, as if it was struggling against something. As the tears ran from Galadrea's mortal eyes, the etheric being twisted in pain as it was pulled into the demon's pendant. With a silent howl of glee, the demon faded, Galadrea died again, and the vision stopped.
Throughout the room, no one spoke, they were all horrified at the vision presented to them. Shakily, Indros pulled out a chair and quickly slid it under Jareth as the king collapsed into it. Then, slowly at first but gaining strength, the apprentices all began swearing, hissing in outrage, and talking about plans to retrieve their teacher's soul. A cry of outrage silenced them all once again, and even Natela jumped in fright. There, beside a furious Indros, stood an enraged Goblin King, clad in a black molded breastplate, his shimmering black cloak folding around him.
"Natela Vandree," Jareth quietly asked, "is there anyway to enter the Abyss and find out where that demon took the pendant and Gala's soul?" At her wide-eyed expression, Jareth turned to Indros, who was in the middle of a good fiery rage as compared to Jareth's cold one.
The same thought crossing his mind, the half-elf nodded his head. "There are many, and I can perform most of them. I'll need a little time, maybe a day or two, but I can find my sister's soul."
From the crowd of apprentices, Joshuan stepped up. "Master Solardin was my master, as was Jareth. I'll help you in any way you need, Indros," the former apprentice offered, hatred and rage vying for control in his emerald green eyes.
"Any help you can give Indros would be greatly appreciated, and should you be successful, you reward will be great," Jareth promised, silently raging that he could do nothing to aid in the search. While the spells under his command allowed him access to much of the Underground and the Aboveground, he had little experience with the realms of the Abyss, despite Galadrea's insistance that he study them as well. Jareth winced at that thought. I should've listened, he thought in self-recrimination. With a final nod, Jareth left the study, leaving Indros, Joshuan, and the others to their work.
Alone in his private room, Jareth slumped in his chair, going over spells of destruction that his research told him would be particulary effective against the various denizens he would encounter in the Abyss, for it never crossed his mind that he would not brave the realm of the damned to save the one he loved.
Finally slamming the book shut, Jareth noticed a piece of parchment fly from between the pages of his book. Curiously reaching out a hand, he caught the flattened scroll before it could land in the fireplace. Written in a language he didn't know, Jareth waved his hand, silently casting a spell that would allow him to read magical writings. As his gaze wondered over the page, a deep feeling of dread settled in his heart.
In all the infernal realms of the Abyss, the most dangerous fiends are the tanari'i. Divided into subspecies, there are the Balors at the top, followed by the Mariliths, a species of tanari'i that appear as human females in the face and torso, but having six arms, and the lower bodies of humongous snakes...and among the most dangerous of the Mariliths is a creature that calls itself Heretona.
Ambitious, she is known for sending her minions to steal the souls of powerful mages in an attempt to increase the magic under her command, and triumph over the balors in the hierarchy of the Abyss. Her favorite tactic is the use of mortal pawns to greatly wound the victims so that their defenses are almost completely destroyed, and then sending a demon servant to pull the soul from the body. You ask why the body is not killed and the soul obtained as it leaves the body for good? It is because when a body dies, the soul is protected by the diety that it worshipped in life, and is thus more protected at that time than at anyother. Attempting to capture a soul at the point of death would attract the attention of powerful good beings, that while less than gods, hae the ability to completely destroy such demonic minions and their masters with barely a thought...
"Gods, Galadrea would have lived!" Jareth gasped as he came to the end of the section concerning Heratona. A tanari'i...that certainly explained a good many things, such as the feelings of uneasiness that had plagued both him and Galadrea the past few months. Along with that realization came the feeling of guilt. Hoggle had been aiming for him, not Gala, which meant that Galadrea was dead because a power-hungry tanari'i thought that Jareth would make an interesting acquisition. This changed a lot of things, and as Jareth sat contemplating the torture his love's soul would be put through, he felt a strong urge to destroy something. Unconciously, as the music box played softly, his fist clenched, crumbling the parchment to dust...
As the soul flickered back to conciousness, it looked around. A foggy, black, faceted void surrounded it. Remembered pain made the soul gasp. Slowly, memory returned, though it was hard to remember anything, let alone think straight. With a deep sigh, the soul shut out all distractions, and concentrated on its memory, for with memory would return life, and where there was life, there was always hope.