Chapter 10: Mireia in the Labyrinth.

By Emer

Disclaimer: the standard. Not mine with the exceptions of Mireia and Sabina. And I suppose the White Owls, too.

Mireia was too busy keeping her eyes shut and her lunch down to scream. Jareth's grip on her arm tightened, and he pulled her in next to him.

"Don't worry," he said softly into her ear, in a tone of voice that was almost normal. Mireia would have envied him his calm if she'd had any room left in her brain to think. She didn't, so she simply clenched her teeth together and dug her fingers into his shoulders. And since she was so busy not screaming and not looking, she failed to notice when Jareth produced a globe and hurled it down below them. She did notice, however, when--instead of slamming into the ground and acquiring broken bones--they bounced gently onto a giant, clear bubble. Then it began shrinking slowly to the ground, lowering them with it. Soon, it was gone completely, and Mireia found herself sprawled on the ground with Jareth. Her face was smashed up against his solar plexus, thanks to his arm, still wrapped around her.

Lifting her head to give him a rueful smile, she ordered her fingers to relax their death-grip and got shakily to her feet. Jareth gracefully followed suit and straightened his clothing, tactfully not mentioning the claw marks in his shoulders. She took in their surroundings--the tall green shrubbery of the hedge maze.

"Well," said Jareth, looking her over with an appraising look. "You don't appear injured. Shall we go?" he said, offering his arm to her with a smile, just as if nothing had happened. Mireia wasn't ready to let it go so easily.

"No we shall not," she said, swallowing several times to settle her stomach. "What just happened? I wasn't hallucinating. We definitely just fell out of the sky. Falling out of the sky is only my worst nightmare. Where did the path go? Did you lose grip of your magic?" She looked up at him sternly, to try and distract him from noticing how badly her limbs were wobbling. His expression turned from a casual smile into a distinctly closed look.

"I did not," he said with conviction, "lose control of the magic path. Rather, it was forcefully taken out of my hands."

"And this doesn't cause you any alarm? Shouldn't you be more concerned?"

"I assure you, I am very concerned, which is why we are now going to find the source of this annoyance. Now are you going to accompany me or not?"

"Oh--I. Yes," she said, disgruntled.

"Splendid," he said in a low, slightly bored voice. And then he started walking--fast. Mireia was forced to an undignified trot to keep up. Jareth had vexingly long legs, and for a man who could turn into an owl whenever he wanted, he walked surprisingly quickly. She was forced to forget about her shaky limbs in an effort to not be left behind.

"Where--are you going--to look--first," she panted, drawing even with him.

"At my Castle."

"What do you suppose it was--that grabbed the path--out from under us?" Mireia asked. She was warming up to the trot. It wasn't really so bad. And she'd been on cross country all last season. It was easier to breath now that her lungs had resigned themselves to the idea.

"I haven't the faintest idea." He was maddeningly close-lipped about it. For the next few minutes, no matter how cunningly she put the question to him, he gave variations on the same answer. Finally, he stopped in mid-stride, turned to her and slid a gloved finger along her chin with deceptive gentleness.

"I do not know what broke the path, Mireia," he told her evenly. "If you ask me even once more, I will be more than happy to drop you head-first into the Bog of Eternal Stench, and you can keep asking the same question there." He paused and so did his finger. "I, however, will be traveling to my Castle to deal with whatever interfered with my magic. Is that clear to you?"

"Yes," Mireia said promptly, not willing to tempt fate when it came to Jareth's temper. He was so deceptively calm and reasonable all the time that it made her want to push him a little harder to see where his calm ended. But she didn't want to incur his wrath. Or end up in the bog for that matter. "Sorry."

"I'm sure." He dropped his hand back to his side and kept walking. She didn't dare ask about her fate, or Michael's just now, which would have been her next question. If something was going wrong with his magic or his Labyrinth, she was fairly sure that something was going wrong with everything. And hopefully that meant that Jareth had more important things to think about, and she was in no danger of becoming a Goblin. At least, not any time soon. Instead, since she forbid herself to think of any more questions for Jareth, she fell to thinking about his magic and the crystal he'd given her instead.

She was vaguely aware that Jareth had slowed his pace slightly to allow her to keep up without jogging, but most of her conscious attention was directed at analyzing Jareth's magic. The best way to start, she decided, was to go back over the times she'd seen him use actual magic. She supplemented those with the times he'd used it in the book. There was the first time in the book--when he'd turned the crystal into a snake and thrown it at Sarah. Then there was the first time Mireia herself had seen him using magic--to spy on her brother in one of his crystals.

She had unconsciously assumed that the crystals were somehow magic. But--and this was a rather large hole for her to have just noticed--the crystals couldn't be his magic, or he'd never have given her one of them. And he used magic without them--like turning into an owl or making that path out of air. It followed, of course, that his magic came from him, as did the crystals--not the other way around. She'd been so silly to never think about it before! And she'd sat there for so long, in his throne room, trying to figure out how his magic crystal worked, when it was him that made it work.

Ok, so she'd been a fool. She'd correct that now. He hadn't actually told her that he wouldn't teach her magic, he'd said she had to figure out some of it on her own before he could teach her. What did that mean? He was the one with the magic, not she. But if she hadn't been capable of learning it at all, wouldn't he have just told her it was impossible? "You remind me of the babe," she thought, nearly laughing out loud. "The babe with the power."

Sarah had had power. She'd been able to make the Goblin King listen to her. She'd been able to bend the rules of his Labyrinth. In her account, she'd claimed that Jareth had given her special powers because he'd fallen in love with her. But Mireia had heard his denial of loving Sarah from his own mouth. If he didn't love her, why would he give her powers? Perhaps he hadn't. In which case, she'd had powers all along, without him. Where had she gotten them, then. And what did that mean for Mireia? Where could Mireia find magic like that?

She was forcibly wrenched from her thoughts, when a piercing cry rent the air. It was followed by many others. It took Mireia a disoriented moment to realize that the sky was slowly being filled with a large flock of white owls, rising out of the crumbling ruins that lay before them. When the sky was nearly blotted out by their brilliance, the group started to drift forward and down--straight at them.

"OOH! The owls from your story!" Mireia exclaimed, watching excitedly. It didn't occur to her to be afraid.

"Of course. Did you think I made them up?" he cast an amused glance at her wide eyes and even wider smile.

"No. But I didn't know I would get to see them! Will they talk to us?"

"I would think so. Or they wouldn't be flying straight toward us."

"What do they talk about? I've always heard owls are wise," she couldn't be spared to look at Jareth when there were so many interesting creatures coming towards her, but she didn't miss the warning in his next comment.

"They are very wise. And the wise have various uses for information, not all of them savory. I wouldn't tell them more than necessary, if I were you."

"But Orion--" she started, and cut herself off abruptly as Jareth stepped forward and held up his arm so that one large owl could detach himself from the others and glide smoothly down to land on it.

"Hello, Gyre," Jareth told the owl gravely. The owl cocked his head inquisitively.

"Strange things happening," said the owl. Mireia suppressed an urge to jump at the sound of the voice. It was a strange tenor. Like the regular hoot of an owl stretched out to an unnatural length.

"Yes, I know," said Jareth. "Please, tell me what you've seen from your city." Gyre said nothing for a while, simply regarding Jareth with his solemn, dark eyes. When he finally did reply, Mireia thought that there was a little mirth in the owl's tone. It was hard reading something so familiar in Gyre's alien voice, but she was pretty sure it was there.

"Your challenger. The boy. He arrived at the castle before the thirteenth hour. The Goblins call he and his--companion--their new Kings."

"Impossible," said Jareth, crossly. Somehow, Mireia had expected a bigger reaction. She knew she'd reacted by nearly exclaiming in surprise. But she'd stifled it quickly in order to see how the news affected Jareth. She'd expected enraged and gotten mildly annoyed.

"They've set themselves up in your throne room," added Gyre. Mireia thought that there was a hint of gleeful malice in that last sentence, as if the owl, too, had been expecting more of a show and was trying to coax it out of Jareth, now.

"That will soon be rectified," returned Jareth. "Now tell me, has anyone else gone into my castle?"

"No one," said Gyre.

"Then we'll be on our way. You will, of course, tell me if you see anything entering the Labyrinth that doesn't belong." It was phrased as a question, but was clearly a command. Gyre bobbed his head in owlish agreement, and took off from Jareth's arm, going to join his fellows as they flocked back to their ruins.

Without a word to Mireia, Jareth began walking again. She fell into step with him, widening her strides in an attempt to match his. After several minutes of trying to hold her tongue, she found that she couldn't contain herself anymore.

"Is Michael the Goblin King?" she asked.

"No, Michael is not the Goblin King," he replied testily, not slowing. "He must have stopped the challenge by smashing the clock, but his victory would have done that anyway. Something else is happening here, and I'm not entirely sure what it is."

"But if Michael's not the King--who is?" asked Mireia. He gave her quelling look.

"I am," he said, rather coldly.

"Then what's the big deal?"

"That is what I'm trying to find out."

They were taking a route that led them around the White Owl's ruins. There was even a road of sorts, paved with slightly irregular stones. Everything was dusty and in disrepair. There were grasses and wildflowers growing up in the cracks.

Mireia still had questions, but she didn't know how to ask them, as the problem was so open ended. Jareth didn't sound like he could answer most of them anyway. At least there didn't seem to be any danger of becoming a goblin any longer. With that comforting thought, she wandered along beside him, watching her feet so that she didn't step on any of the flowers--some of whom had faces. They muttered in soft voices to each other, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. Gradually, she stopped thinking altogether, and just put one foot in front of the other, watching stone after sparkly stone pass beneath her.

Suddenly, Jareth's hand closed around her upper arm like a vice and jerked her sideways so that she knocked into him.

"What--" she started.

"Mind the holes," he said sharply. She looked over at the place she'd been about to step on and saw that it was an optical illusion. Walking straight on, the path looked normal--sideways, there was a wide pit. Jareth had pulled her neatly around it.

"God," she said. "Thanks."

"Hardly God," he said, resuming his usual tone of calm amusement. She was about to reply to that comment, when another voice cut in.

"Jareth," it purred, from further along the path. They both turned to face the owner.

Mireia saw a beautiful woman, long-legged and voluptuous. Her hair fell to her waist, curling in utter perfection at the tips. It was a good thing that her hair was so long, Mireia thought, because there was nothing else to cover her breasts. Scarves and various sinuous scraps of cloth hung from her hips, just barely clinging to propriety. "What a nice surprise."

"Sabina," said Jareth, smiling devilishly. "I prefer to surprise you. I can't have you surprising me."

"No, I suppose not," the woman pouted a little. "But it would be the greatest thrill of your life, if you'd let me." Jareth laughed.

"You mean the last thrill of my life," Jareth returned, still chuckling, and causing the woman to laugh throatily back.

Mireia decided two things in the midst of this banter. One was obvious: the woman was dangerous. Jareth had laughingly just told her as much. The second was that Mireia had felt a distinct twinge of--something. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, and she was trying valiantly ignore it instead of naming it. But the word hung in the front of her thoughts, refusing to be banished: Jealousy.

"Come to my pavilion. Rest and let me tend to you. I can see you are tired. And so is your little captive," Sabina's words were slightly hypnotic. Not only did Mireia suddenly feel more tired than she had before, but she very much wanted to see this pavilion. When the woman gave Jareth another look, however, it was Mireia's own pang of jealousy that jerked her out of the trap. That, and being called a 'captive'. She looked over at Jareth to find him already watching her. Casting a nervous glance at the woman, Mireia leaned in close to him.

"I'm only going if you promise not to do anything with her," she told him quietly. "She's obviously a siren. Don't get trapped." Jareth regarded her in silence for a moment.

"Mireia, my dear, this is my Labyrinth. I know what she is," he replied. "I even flatter myself that she couldn't trap me. But we've both been awake for nearly fifteen hours, and my Castle is still several hours away. We'll have to rest somewhere and this is one of the safest places."

"Ok," agreed Mireia reluctantly.

"We accept your kind hospitality, Sabina. Lead on." As they trailed after Sabina Mireia found herself starring in horrified fascination at the way her scarves moved. Once she nearly tripped and only Jareth's hand catching her elbow saved her. He had tactfully fixed his eyes somewhat higher than her hips.

"They'll come off at any moment," Mireia muttered, low enough so that Sabina couldn't hear, but Jareth could. "Maybe she's hiding a devil's tail."

"Oh, much worse than that," said Jareth, just as quietly. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Try not to fall in that gap." Mireia jerked her gaze to her feet and took a wide hop over another hole in the road. Jareth simply took a wide, graceful step.

The pavilion was revealed after several minutes, around a twist in the hedge maze. It was like a rather large gazebo. Golden sunlight streamed down on it, turning the white surfaces to gold. A fountain flowed in the center, and all around the perimeter were many-colored cushions and more scarves and carpets. Everything looked so warm and comfortable that Mireia felt drowsy just looking. She imagined how lovely it would be to sink onto one of the soft piles of pillows, with the warm sun for a blanket, and be lulled to sleep by the fountain's trickle.

"Sit where you will," said Sabina, gesturing gracefully. Mireia turned to watch Jareth. He met her eyes and nodded his head almost imperceptively towards one of the heaps of pillows. She sat down. It sank with her weight, effectively leaving her lying down. A small sigh of contentment escaped her and her eyes were half closed before she thought about it. Remembering where she was at the last second, she snapped them open. The first thing she saw was Sabina's slightly disappointed expression which she quickly changed into a pleasant smile.

"It's al right, Mireia." Jareth sank onto the cushions beside Mireia and regarded Sabina with a coldly calculating look. "Go to sleep. You're quite safe." Mireia needed no further encouragement. It only occurred to her when she was too far past the borders of sleep, that maybe she shouldn't completely trust Jareth, either.

Thanks for reviewing Lady Fae! Hope you liked this chapter with Jareth and Mireia, and that you come back to find out what happens next.

Such mysteries will be answered: what do you do with a castle full of Goblins and a Bogged Sand Elk? How big is Jareth's...er...ehm...Castle, anyway? And who the hell is stupid enough to mess with Jareth?

As a completely unrelated side note, if you guys have never heard the song "Golden Years" by David Bowie, you're really missing out. I mean, I'm obsessed with him already, but this song has taken me to new levels of obsession. His voice is so great. *sigh*. Why, oh, why couldn't I have been born early enough to enjoy his Ziggy Stardust phase? Why, God, why?

Jareth: You called?

Emer: You're not God. Get over it.

Jareth: I certainly am. Shall I prove it?

Emer: Ok. *crosses arms over chest and gives Jareth a challenging look*

Jareth produces a crystal, throws it into the sky, and a lightening bolt comes down.

Jareth: see? It isn't wise to challenge God.

Emer: I'm so not impressed by how big your lightening bolt is. Any magician worth his salt can do that.

Jareth: you require further proof?

Emer: Definitely.

Jareth: Fine *strolls to the edge of a lake and then walks right out onto the water.*

Emer: Your arrogance is unbecoming. And I'm sure these people don't want to see it anymore. C'mon this side conversation is over. My story should have exhausted you.

Jareth: You don't control me, my dear. And I thought you had more respect for my stamina than that But as it happens, I do have more pressing engagements, so I'm off. *transforms into an owl and wings away*

Emer: (mutters) Sure. Go kidnap some children. Good-looking, Bowie-like bastard.

Until next time!