Bowie Park

by Gizzard and Gullet

CHAPTER 4: TO THE ACCIDENTAL ANTIPODE ABODE

Sarah opened her eyes and saw black. It seemed that only a few seconds had passed since she had fainted. Her lips moved soundlessly. Her knees buckled, but she didn't fall back. Slowly she became aware of a ring of strength holding her upright. Arms, she realized, as strong as stone. She put up her hands and shoved hard on Jareth's chest. As she stumbled backwards she realized that he now wore a cape of downy, white feathers, and that her face had been buried in them. She shook her head and spat them out of her mouth. Jareth reached to brush them out of her hair, but she hit his hand away.

It took a moment for realization to sink in. Sarah had dreamed of the Underground so often since her return that it was hard to decifer between her dreams and the harsh reality. Yet with King Jareth standing at her side, and her long dark hair blowing gently in the dry breeze, she knew that this was no dream. Before her stretched the vast and weaving walls of the Labyrinth. Memories came flooding back to her mind, memories of an endless trek through the maze in search of a stolen baby. It was not a pleasant reminiscence.

"Pleasant memories?" Jareth's dry voice cut through her thoughts and rage swept over Sarah like sand blowing over sharp stone.

"How dare you bring me here. I decided long ago never to come here again!" She met his gaze defiantly.

His eyes were jewels, dark and enticing and sharp. Despite the desert heat, Sarah shivered.

"Ah, but Sarah," Jareth replied in a purr so low that despite her anger Sarah leaned forward unconsciously to hear. "I'm hoping to persuade you otherwise. Poor girl," he mocked, eyes flashing. "So naïve. I'm taking you somewhere to open your eyes to both your world and mine."

"You won't take me anywhere. Except home," she added quickly, anxious that he would take her words at face value. Sarah turned from him, her hair whirling around in a cloud of anger and frustration. "You have no right to keep me in the Underground."

Jareth turned and began walking. They stood on sandy plateau. Red stone and prickly grass dotted the landscape. The sky above was as the she remembered it: orange, cloudless, and dry. Everything in the labyrinth was dry, she thought, The eternal sunset reminded her of the panic she had felt the last time she was here, and narrowed her eyes.

"Come Sarah, we must make it to the Antipode before nightfall." Jareth's swift legs had carried him a significant distance down the path. His cape fluttered in a hot updraft. Through her anger, Sarah felt the tug of curiosity at his last words. She had never heard of an "antipode" before and wished to know what it was. She would not, however, ask Jareth for fear of sounding too interested.

After briefly considering whether or not she could let him walk away and navigate the outskirts of the Labyrinth alone, she realized that she would not get home without a goblin king to lead the way. Without a backward glance, Sarah hurried to catch the long shadows of Jareth's well-muscled legs.

Unlike her initial assumption that he would lead her directly into the Labyrinth, Jareth passed the entrance and they began a trek around the outside of the wall. The king did not say another word; even if Sarah had wanted to ask about the Antipode, she would have received no response.

The sun was just beginning its decline into vibrant shades of red and orange when Sarah saw the king stop at the top of the sand dune in front of her. As she came over the crest, Sarah saw a sight that made her stop in her tracks. In front of them stood an enormous tree, standing alone in the sea of sand. It seemed to glimmer in a mirage of every color imaginable. The setting sun lent some of its arrogant colors to the tree's rich canopy of gracefully drooping vines and leaves. As Sarah watched, the tree sparkled with yellows and greens, then switched to pinks and blues, and finally settled on shades of violet and crimson. Yet as she watched this amazing phenomenon, Sarah realized that only the leaves held color. In the sunset, the space revealed by the gently moving vines was completely dark. Sarah could not tell if it was the sunset that intensified the shadows, or if this was the way the tree truly appeared. There was something eerie about it that she could not quite put her finger on. It was almost as if the tree held some permanent enchantment that would last until the end of time. Sarah suddenly realized how frightened she was and that she did not wish to go any further.

Yet as soon as she made this realization, Jareth quickened his confident stride forward toward the magical tree. He must not be afraid of anything, Sarah thought with a twinge of admiration, which she quickly regretted. She understood that she was utterly dependant on King Jareth and she cursed herself for allowing this to happen again.

"This is the Mirage Portal," said Jareth over his shoulder. His skin gleamed golden in the dying light. "Follow me through." He suddenly disappeared beneath the leaves and vines that hung down so thick they served almost as a wall. Sarah realized with a start that the colors emanating from the leaves had truly been a mirage and that up close the leaves were brown and dead. A chill crept up her spine, yet she knew she had no choice but to follow the king's lead. Taking a breath and closing her eyes, Sarah stepped forward and felt the shockingly cool leaves brush against her temple. She had expected them to be crisp and flaky, as dead leaves often are. Instead they held a cool, smooth sheen that felt like water trapped in leather. Then she sank.

Before she knew it, Sarah was waist deep in whirling sand.

Quicksand.

She tried to get up out of it, but the more she struggled the more it grasped at her body, pulling her under. In a second the sand had reached her chin and then her whole head was under. Panic gripped Sarah's heart and she could not breathe. Tiny grains of sand wrapped around her face so that her eyes and ears were completely swathed. She let loose a scream, but her mouth was muffled and no sound save the deadly pouring of sand around her could be heard.

Then she felt something guiding her downwards, something like a rope pulling in her clenching fists. It was the same feeling as the tree's leaves, a smooth sensation that sent waves up her arms to calm her nerves. She allowed this "rope" to lead her downwards, farther and farther. Then there was a crack of light, and Sarah fell through an opening in the ceiling of a small dimly lit room, right into Jareth's waiting arms.