To Take Back the Child
* By Eerie *
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three *~*~*~*~*
The morning greeted Toby with a headache that seemed to carve splinters into every inch of his skull. His tongue felt numb and unnaturally thick in the dry tomb of his mouth as he cracked his eyes open and blinked against the garish light filtering through the massive window. His body was far less comfortable. It felt as though he had recently run his muscles to the point of paralyzing exhaustion. He blinked again, more slowly, and turned his head to discover that he was alone. The sheets to his side showed no sign that anyone had been there; they were cool and flawless.
The evening before whirled like a surreal dream through his head and he made the mistake of closing his eyes to capture it more fully. As soon as his lashes touched he felt Jareth's searing hot body over him again, those sharp fingernails digging into his wrists and scraping maddeningly over his chest, the pain, those odd blue eyes hazed with lust and madness alike. But the more he tried to find the details, the more they seemed to disappear from his memory.
Toby groaned in pain, his very bones throbbing. The possibility that it was a dream contradicted the dull ache that consumed him. What had Jareth done to him? The night was difficult to comprehend, but, from what he could recall, hideously satisfying despite his current sensations. Every one of his trysts at home paled drastically in comparison to even the fragments of its memory. But now he wasn't so sure that his body was able to endure it.
Reopening his blue eyes, Toby drew his muscles taut against their protesting screams to sit up. He eased his back against the headboard, panting in exhaustion. It scared him to be confined to such a state. What if he had to summon his strength? Perhaps Jareth would not be so kind today.
Suddenly uncomfortable in his immodest state, Toby searched the room with his eyes, hoping to discover the whereabouts of his clothes. The place was just the same as when he first studied it and what he sought was either not in plain sight or no longer there. He was betting on the latter. His eyes drifted to the sinister wardrobe.
With great care, the youth lifted himself from the bed, standing on shaky legs. He approached it slowly, the mounted skull's ruby eyes leering down at him maliciously. Stopping before the ominous structure, Toby stared at the skeleton hands and wondered if there was some trick necessary to pry them apart. His hands lifted and took them nimbly.
Like a carnivore descending on its hunt, the hands unfolded and clamped about his in an iron grip. Toby cried out in shock and pain, struggling to free his quickly bruising fingers. The eyes in the skull lolled grotesquely and fixed upon him, gleaming brightly. Its massive jaw creaked open slowly, emitting a sound like rusty gears to shatter the quiet of the room. All at once it snapped shut again, clacking so loudly that Toby jumped and pulled more insistently at his restraints. He winced and attempted to relax his arms, feeling those crimson eyes burning holes into him. The jaw opened once again and the skull spoke.
"Whose hands are these?" Its voice was burdened with undeterminable age; it drawled thickly and tiredly as if it hadn't spoken in centuries.
Toby was aghast. He thought fiercely, for fear a hasty reply might well be the incorrect one, and his wrists would be snapped like dry twigs. His skin was already breaking beneath the metal bones. The sight of red gleaming under silver made his stomach lurch.
"A . . . guest of the Goblin King's," he stammered.
"Guest?" the ghastly voice repeated and its eyes glared harder. It seemed to consider for a moment. Surely it could be no lie, for no one that was not in Jareth's favor could so much as set foot in this room. Finally its heavy hands eased and dropped the mortal's as it spread the doors apart.
A great blast of musty air swept the youth's blond hair up behind his shoulders. Breathing with relief, Toby studied his bruised and broken hands. He hesitated before quickly tearing his eyes away and thrusting his fingers to his mouth. The salty liquid seemed to ease the pain of his dry tongue despite the wretched state of his joints. Once the blood was cleared away, Toby held his wrists level with his head avoid any further bleeding, alternating hands absently as he switched his attention to what lay beyond the closet doors.
He was amazed to find a completely different room of considerable size that could not possibly fit within the wardrobe doors by logical means. But the place was full of illusions and oddities it seemed. It was with careful deliberation that he stepped inside.
Adorning every wall were racks filled with fantastic garments. Some seemed to sparkle with life as his eyes delved into their numerous layers. He had simply wanted something, anything, to clothe himself. But now, standing in the midst of such an inventory of finery, he was struck dumb. However, the thought of Jareth returning any moment provoked his feet forward.
He reached for a matte navy blue frock coat with a large angled collar trimmed in gold braiding and studied it for a moment. A plain white shirt hung beside it and he seized it, slipping it quickly over his head before his fingers could stain it. It fit him so well it was unnerving, though it hung open at the chest and cleaved down to a halt just before the navel. Not surprisingly, a pair of matching navy blue breeches hung on the other side of where it had been. He pulled these on next, another flawless fit. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves of the light frock coat, he eyed the row of tall boots beneath the rack. By probable reason, any of them should fit as well.
Toby bent and took up a pair of dull black leather and eased his feet into them. When he stood straight and fully dressed, he decided that he felt much more comfortable. Turning to escape the overwhelming closet, he was stopped short when his eyes were taken with something that shimmered more brightly than any other object in the closet. He stooped and found buried inside the pocket of one of the glittering coats the exposed hilt of a fine dagger. Curious, he withdrew it.
Its sheath was encrusted with various small jewels over hard burgundy leather. In the center of these jewels were strange symbols embossed in silver dust that sparkled faintly in the light. Too tempted to resist, Toby unsheathed the blade and studied its sharp edge. It was marvelously crafted; its metal seemed to glow as he turned it in his hands. But for some reason he could not bring himself to replace the object. The dagger was smoothly slipped into the tricky lining of the frock coat before he stepped back into the bedroom. The great wardrobe doors all but slammed shut as soon as his foot crossed the threshold. After casting down one final glare, the skull's eyes fixed on the opposite wall and faded.
Walking toward the window, Toby wondered at the strange blade, hoping he would never come upon a situation in which he would have to use it. He stopped at the orifice and allowed the sunlight to bathe his face, relishing in the light breeze that teased his skin. With a great sigh he rested his weight against the thick sill, fighting the urge to let all of his shaky muscles collapse in exhaustion. His eyes roamed the view below.
Twists and turns of the great labyrinth transfixed his attention and he followed them with interest. Beyond the maze of walls was a seemingly barren wasteland spotted with a few horridly mangled trees that stretched their naked boughs about like gnarled fingers, reaching in vain for the contrasting beauty of the sky. There seemed to be no life whatsoever among the maze save for the gently swaying trees of the scattered forests. Strange, for there was not enough wind to invoke their dance.
Toby let himself fall into their odd hypnotizing movements, oblivious to the motion that drew close up behind him. He was snapped back into reality when the Goblin Lord's arms circled his waist possessively.
"I see you've discovered my labyrinth. How do you like it?" The silky voice uttered as a chin descended on Toby's shoulder.
Certain fear returned to the youth's nerves and he chose to remain still. The arms about him squeezed harder and nearly provoked him to nausea.
"The limits of your body amaze me," Jareth whispered sultrily and ran his snake-like tongue along the edge of the young man's ear.
Toby shivered in a mixture of desire and loathing. But he was suddenly flung around to face the master of the castle. A sinister smirk lay like a fine frost upon the pale smoothness of Jareth's face. The youth could not help but notice that the Goblin Lord looked younger somehow as he bravely met those eyes that coldly and brazenly studied him. Those eyes fell slowly along the plummet in his shirt, lingering on the visible fragment of the youth's pale chest.
Toby could not bring himself to speak but merely stood and tried to pry his eyes from the uncomfortable scrutiny the others were paying him. But Jareth had discovered his wounded hands, the shallow lacerations of which had been seeping without his notice. Toby clenched his hands into fists in a vain attempt to hide his wounds.
The Goblin King lifted one with care, smoothing his own fingers over those of the mortal. Looking up into Toby's eyes, he slid those fingers beneath the other's to pry the fist apart. When Toby winced, Jareth smiled and once again lowered his eyes to inspect the marred flesh.
"Ah, I should have warned you about that earlier. But it's nothing serious," he said and raised the palm delicately to his mouth to run his tongue over their shallow lines with nothing short of ceremony. Jareth's eyes closed as he stole the blood from the youth's hand, a look of contentment crossing his features.
Toby watched in fascinated horror. It was as if the man enjoyed the taste of blood whereas Toby could hardly stand the sight of it. Stormy blue returned to meet him fully. Realizing that he was daydreaming, the youth looked down and started when he saw his hands were purged of both blood and bruise.
"Sleep well?" Jareth suddenly asked quite pleasantly, but with a dark glint in his eyes.
The youth looked down at his boots hastily, growing hot in the face. His shame was a blazing pillar in his core, but he couldn't recall just why that would be. The evening before was just a haze in his memory, caused by too much alcohol no doubt; there was nothing more.
"Good," the king said and smiled before taking Toby's hand and pulling him away from the sun.
Jareth led the boy from the room and down the hollow stairwell, supporting the majority of his weight as Toby could just barely walk on his own. Upon entering the common room, the goblins stirred and sneered malignantly at the mortal being led like a pet from their king's arm. They nudged one another and snickered; a few simply burst into peals of laughter that remarkably resembled brittle fingernails being dragged mercilessly over a blackboard. Their terrible eyes ogled Toby and some even glinted with hunger. The youth did not want to think about what would befall him if not for Jareth's power over them. They were easy enough to be around the evening before, but the overindulgence of alcohol made gnawing insistence for food all the stronger and they did not disguise this fact well. Actually, there was something like envy gleaming in their eyes as they gnashed their jaws.
Jareth was unfazed. He merely cast daggers at them with his eyes and they obediently cleared a path for their king. To Toby's surprise, Jareth did not reprimand the few goblins that nipped mockingly at the human's ankles. The youth flinched from them, the look of fear in his eyes only enticing the creatures more. Their laughter was shrill in the distance as the pair descended another set of stairs.
"Where are we going?" Toby ventured.
"You've not eaten yet," came the curt reply.
The youth dared not ask for an embellishment, but simply followed. He had no other choice. The stairway led into an airy dining hall where an enormous table adorning an elegant spread was standing. When he saw it, the youth realized just how weak he felt and the prospect of real food was more immediate in his mind than anything else. Toby was promptly seated on the right side of the master's position at the far end. Jareth took that position.
A scrawny goblin with a tight-set mouth suddenly kicked the set of doors open from the kitchen, carrying with it a covered platter. The large object was set before the Goblin King before the lid was removed and a great cloud of steam beneath billowed out. Toby wondered how the goblin was able to carry it with such a frail structure. The creature bowed uneasily, glaring up with surprising hatred at Toby before scuttling back through the doors.
The youth wondered if the sudden hostility directed at him was based on the feast that would go unshared with the goblins. Or was it something more? The scent of the heavily spiced meat gripped his stomach and his line of thought vanished quickly. Jareth served the youth first before taking some for his own plate. The meal began in silence.
Toby was uneasy, though it was not from the food. On the contrary, it was better than he had expected. But the Goblin King's oblivious manner toward him made him wonder if there was something going on that he didn't know about. It seemed as if Jareth were lost in contemplation. He was excruciatingly curious to know what, but remained quiet.
"They resent my decision to keep you," the King of Goblins said from absolutely nowhere, as if he had been reading Toby's mind the entire time. Yet his eyes refused to look at the mortal.
Toby set his fork down, suddenly wondering what he was doing. Was he truly a prisoner in this castle now? Jareth had implied that escape was impossible. Escape . . . how was it that he got himself tangled in this mess? Toby stared at the half-cleared plate, his hunger suddenly wane. The evening he awoke and found himself in this place . . . what was he doing beforehand? Reading the book. But he remembered that it was from sleeplessness that he picked it up, a sleeplessness born from despair. He faintly recalled the numbing effect of the sleeping pills he had taken just beforehand to ease him into slumber.
Jareth's eyes now slid to his and a kind of questioning was imbedded in that gaze. Toby shuddered; the man was indeed reading his mind.
"Does that bother you?" the king inquired.
"Yes, to be honest," the young man replied, feeling hot with the violation.
"It's difficult not to when your thoughts are so carelessly unguarded."
Toby furrowed his brow and glared at the man, but Jareth only smiled with amusement.
"Now, tell me what brought on this despair. I'm most curious, for it lingers in your lovely eyes every minute."
What was Toby supposed to say? Well, Jareth, I hate my life and it feels like everything I do is totally meaningless or wasted on someone who can't appreciate it one bit, and now I'm prisoner in a castle full of mad goblins ruled by a man who has a thing for black magic. Toby sneered at the thought. But Jareth was still looking at him expectantly. The youth returned a quizzical glance, amazed that the Goblin King now had, or merely displayed, the decency to honor his privacy. But now he had to say something.
"I just have bad luck," he said.
The Goblin Lord raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Honestly, don't waste your breath with such pointless statements." His eyes grew keen. "Tell me what really makes you hurt. And don't lie, because I'll know it."
Toby looked up for a moment and watched a slow smirk take over Jareth's lips. He tore his gaze from the unnervingly raw hunger in the other's eyes and stared down at his hands instead. "I . . . don't know how to answer that."
"Then tell me how it was that you've chosen to wish yourself away."
"It wasn't my choice. I was talking in my sleep," the youth said simply.
"Oh, I think it was more than that. The dream that provoked you to call me was not merely fleeting I imagine," Jareth said and paused to sip his wine. "There's much more to it."
Toby stared at his full glass. "I haven't been sleeping much lately."
"And why is that?"
The youth sighed. "It's my dreams. They've become so strange lately; and when I wake up I can still feel them, like they're trying to devour me. I go about and no matter how hard I try I can't stop thinking about them. People were starting to get annoyed by it, but they didn't seem to care, even my own family. It's miserable."
Jareth's face was alight with interest. "Though I could easily discover for myself, I'd prefer it if you told me. So then, what are these dreams like?"
Toby met the Goblin Lord's inquisitive eyes bravely. "It makes no difference."
"I'm disappointed that you'd try to keep things from me, Jareth. You'll soon learn that such things are impossible." Strange blue eyes darkened. "I'll ask you once more, and advise you to take the chance. It's much more painless that way."
Dread welled up from the youth's depths. It must have showed, as Jareth was now smiling. Toby spoke reluctantly. "Like any dream, it's hard to fully understand. But the theme is always the same. There's a transformation. And the setting looks strangely like this place." He looked accusingly at his host, but very briefly.
The Goblin King's eyes narrowed as he looked at the child. "It must have been beautiful."
Toby continued as if he hadn't heard. "And my sister was there; I believe you remember her. She's calling out to me, begging me to come home. But I can't move, even when she starts to cry. She's telling me to fight." He looked up once again. "Why would she say that?"
Jareth's face was serious, revealing no answers.
"Am I to become her replacement?" Toby dared very quietly, half hoping his companion would not hear.
The King of Goblins leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands before his face. "Don't cheapen yourself."
"I want to go back home," Toby said seriously.
From the glint in Jareth's eyes, it was apparent he was again smiling behind his hands. "Whether or not you meant it, what's said is said. I granted your wish; there can be no reversals. Is such a concept truly so difficult for your human minds to comprehend?"
"Then for what reason are you holding me here?" the youth spat angrily, suddenly irritated with all the questions and cryptic answers.
Jareth's hands unlaced quickly and slammed down on the table as he stood. The silverware and platter shivered as the wineglasses toppled over, staining the white tablecloth deep burgundy. His change in attitude was like a tempest.
"Do you think yourself some kind of victim? It was by my grace that your call was answered. And all this," the king swept a hand over the table and gestured at Toby's clothes, "for a slave? Even your precious sibling didn't have such gifts."
Jareth lifted his hands away before the seeping wine could touch them and took a menacing step closer. "She may have wielded her charms skillfully against me, and for that there can be no forgiveness, but never did she defeat me, even when she took back what was rightfully mine."
The Goblin King eased and stood tall. "Do you have even the vaguest idea why you weren't thrust to rot in the oubliette as soon as you breached the Underground?" His eyes watched Toby's carefully.
Toby's hand unconsciously began to edge toward the blade hidden in his coat. But suddenly Jareth's temper died; he breathed deeply and smiled.
"But there will be time for those answers later." The Goblin Lord resumed his seat and tossed his head. "Oh dear, what a mess." He set the overturned goblets back on their thick bases and refilled them with the strong burgundy wine. Holding one out to Toby he said, "Please, let's put this unpleasantness behind us. You are my guest, are you not?"
*~*~*~*~*
Toby had been ushered off into the custody of the goblin servants, though much to the child's dismay. Jareth sternly commanded the creatures to keep their filthy fingers off the human and his word was never taken lightly. He decided to give Toby his own room for the time being and allow the youth to fully regain his strength. The room was not an exquisite one, but certainly much more accommodating than the pits of the dungeon.
Jareth pulled his garments off and cast them to the floor. They shattered like glass and dissolved as soon as they touched the hard surface; they would reappear moments later in their proper place within his wardrobe. The Goblin Lord descended into satin depths of his ancient bed and stretched his long arms up behind his head, musing over the evening. The anger that sprung from the brazen youth's questions still lingered weakly in his blood. Jareth had hoped that Toby's attitude would not be bound with such similarity to Sarah's, but he learned that it touched the boy deeper than he had desired. That would have to be purged. Once accomplished, his plan could begin its artistry.
He sensed his spell to significantly weaken Toby's memory of the passionate evening shared between them was complete. Not that he regretted his impulsive decision, but he knew that placing a powerful memory like that so suddenly in the summoner's head might do too much damage to start. He would dominate the child's mind slowly to make the boy completely his own. The evening was largely for himself, just a taste of the goods he had recently acquired.
He remembered the warm rush of electric energy he had acquired from Toby and had almost forgotten what it felt like after so many years. It cleared his mind, made him feel remarkably younger, and allowed his imagination more space to roam. Now he took advantage of it as he thought about what the boy said in regards to his dreams. Could he have forseen his fate? Jareth snorted. Impossible for a mortal, he thought, but perhaps the child is strange. All the better.
A smile took the Goblin King's lips as he lowered his eyelids.
*~*~*~*~*
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Toby cried as the goblin snagged his coat roughly and began to jerk it from his back.
"Majesty's orders," the little thing barked fiercely and tugged the coat off. It was cast haphazardly to the floor; the dagger hidden within inched from the lining imperceptibly. The goblin hadn't noticed and moved to seize Toby's shirt, but the youth stepped away defensively. Growling, the creature thrust its hands on its hips and stared with irritation at the boy.
Suddenly the door to the small room crashed open and the other four goblins that had led him up came barreling through with a large, round wooden tub in their hands. The object slammed with an echo on the floor and they skittered away again. The remaining goblin turned back to regard Toby.
"Well if ya ain't needin my help then I be goin. Ya make me sick anyways," the wrinkled goblin said and snorted with disgust before ambling from the room.
As soon as it left, the other goblins returned with great buckets of steaming water that were promptly emptied into the large vessel. They turned to leave without so much as a word to the boy. The last one stopped suddenly and turned to throw a cake of soap at Toby's feet before wrinkling its thin nose and following its companions. The door slammed behind it and the lock slid in place from the opposite side.
Toby relaxed in their absence and eyed the steaming tub. A bath sounded marvelous just then. He eased off the remainder of his clothes and recovered the pale soap from the floor. Stepping cautiously into the hot water, Toby immediately felt relief and steeped himself fully with no more hesitation. He worked the soap carefully over his skin and set it on the ledge. Studying the simple room, he wondered how long he would be held up there. Though thankful to be absent from the Goblin King's presence, he'd have to devise a way to escape and return home. Jareth seemed to have some unspoken plans for him with his "favor" and it was frightening to imagine the possibilities of what those were. The haze in his mind from the evening before did not sit well with him and the idea of the King of Goblins using his thoughts like a toy was anything but reassuring.
Toby rested his head on the tub ledge and allowed his eyes to slip closed, thoroughly enjoying the hot refreshing water. He thought about Sarah and suddenly longed to speak to her. They hadn't seen one another for a long time and it was as though his only sister was forgetting him. He knew she was busy, but their visits moved further and further apart until they seemed like those between two strangers. He missed the closeness they had when he was younger, the relationship that was like caring friends' more than just siblings'. When she moved away it nearly broke his heart.
His peace was abruptly broken when the door unlocked and opened to another inconsiderate goblin. Toby turned his head and watched as it strode into the room with an armful of clothes. It was the goblin that threw him the soap.
"Thank you," he said as the creature set the clothes on the bed.
Its pointed ears perked up as it returned the boy's glance.
"I'm Toby. What's your name?"
The goblin shifted its mouth to the side and thought for a moment. "Ain't got no name," it said and began to shuffle back toward the door.
"Maybe I could give you one," Toby called before the thing could escape. To his relief, it stopped and seemed to consider, but kept its back to him.
"Don't need one," it said decisively and stormed from the room.
Toby sighed. So much for making an ally, he thought. With a bit of regret, he lifted himself from the tub and realized that there were no towels to dry with. He walked to the window and pushed it open to the evening air when an idea tempted him. His eyes fell downward to see if the orifice provided a possible means of escape. They quickly dimmed with disappointment at the sight of the long, needle-like thorns bursting generously from thick bushes that covered the ground beneath and had even begun to climb the high tower wall.
"Damn it," Toby said softly and stared out over the labyrinth bathed in the light of the moon. For several moments his eyes ran over its countless paths in an attempt to somehow memorize them, wondering what path his sister had taken. Frustrated, Toby closed the window and stalked to his bed. But the glimmer of the exposed dagger caught his eye and he altered his course to retrieve it.
He slipped into the bed and promptly placed the weapon beneath his pillow. The sheets were not fine, but soothing to his tired muscles nonetheless. It didn't take long before his last threads of consciousness were severed, but in those final seconds he almost swore he felt the touch of icy fingers seeking the outskirts of his dawning dreams.
*
To be continued . . .
*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Once again, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews!
* By Eerie *
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three *~*~*~*~*
The morning greeted Toby with a headache that seemed to carve splinters into every inch of his skull. His tongue felt numb and unnaturally thick in the dry tomb of his mouth as he cracked his eyes open and blinked against the garish light filtering through the massive window. His body was far less comfortable. It felt as though he had recently run his muscles to the point of paralyzing exhaustion. He blinked again, more slowly, and turned his head to discover that he was alone. The sheets to his side showed no sign that anyone had been there; they were cool and flawless.
The evening before whirled like a surreal dream through his head and he made the mistake of closing his eyes to capture it more fully. As soon as his lashes touched he felt Jareth's searing hot body over him again, those sharp fingernails digging into his wrists and scraping maddeningly over his chest, the pain, those odd blue eyes hazed with lust and madness alike. But the more he tried to find the details, the more they seemed to disappear from his memory.
Toby groaned in pain, his very bones throbbing. The possibility that it was a dream contradicted the dull ache that consumed him. What had Jareth done to him? The night was difficult to comprehend, but, from what he could recall, hideously satisfying despite his current sensations. Every one of his trysts at home paled drastically in comparison to even the fragments of its memory. But now he wasn't so sure that his body was able to endure it.
Reopening his blue eyes, Toby drew his muscles taut against their protesting screams to sit up. He eased his back against the headboard, panting in exhaustion. It scared him to be confined to such a state. What if he had to summon his strength? Perhaps Jareth would not be so kind today.
Suddenly uncomfortable in his immodest state, Toby searched the room with his eyes, hoping to discover the whereabouts of his clothes. The place was just the same as when he first studied it and what he sought was either not in plain sight or no longer there. He was betting on the latter. His eyes drifted to the sinister wardrobe.
With great care, the youth lifted himself from the bed, standing on shaky legs. He approached it slowly, the mounted skull's ruby eyes leering down at him maliciously. Stopping before the ominous structure, Toby stared at the skeleton hands and wondered if there was some trick necessary to pry them apart. His hands lifted and took them nimbly.
Like a carnivore descending on its hunt, the hands unfolded and clamped about his in an iron grip. Toby cried out in shock and pain, struggling to free his quickly bruising fingers. The eyes in the skull lolled grotesquely and fixed upon him, gleaming brightly. Its massive jaw creaked open slowly, emitting a sound like rusty gears to shatter the quiet of the room. All at once it snapped shut again, clacking so loudly that Toby jumped and pulled more insistently at his restraints. He winced and attempted to relax his arms, feeling those crimson eyes burning holes into him. The jaw opened once again and the skull spoke.
"Whose hands are these?" Its voice was burdened with undeterminable age; it drawled thickly and tiredly as if it hadn't spoken in centuries.
Toby was aghast. He thought fiercely, for fear a hasty reply might well be the incorrect one, and his wrists would be snapped like dry twigs. His skin was already breaking beneath the metal bones. The sight of red gleaming under silver made his stomach lurch.
"A . . . guest of the Goblin King's," he stammered.
"Guest?" the ghastly voice repeated and its eyes glared harder. It seemed to consider for a moment. Surely it could be no lie, for no one that was not in Jareth's favor could so much as set foot in this room. Finally its heavy hands eased and dropped the mortal's as it spread the doors apart.
A great blast of musty air swept the youth's blond hair up behind his shoulders. Breathing with relief, Toby studied his bruised and broken hands. He hesitated before quickly tearing his eyes away and thrusting his fingers to his mouth. The salty liquid seemed to ease the pain of his dry tongue despite the wretched state of his joints. Once the blood was cleared away, Toby held his wrists level with his head avoid any further bleeding, alternating hands absently as he switched his attention to what lay beyond the closet doors.
He was amazed to find a completely different room of considerable size that could not possibly fit within the wardrobe doors by logical means. But the place was full of illusions and oddities it seemed. It was with careful deliberation that he stepped inside.
Adorning every wall were racks filled with fantastic garments. Some seemed to sparkle with life as his eyes delved into their numerous layers. He had simply wanted something, anything, to clothe himself. But now, standing in the midst of such an inventory of finery, he was struck dumb. However, the thought of Jareth returning any moment provoked his feet forward.
He reached for a matte navy blue frock coat with a large angled collar trimmed in gold braiding and studied it for a moment. A plain white shirt hung beside it and he seized it, slipping it quickly over his head before his fingers could stain it. It fit him so well it was unnerving, though it hung open at the chest and cleaved down to a halt just before the navel. Not surprisingly, a pair of matching navy blue breeches hung on the other side of where it had been. He pulled these on next, another flawless fit. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves of the light frock coat, he eyed the row of tall boots beneath the rack. By probable reason, any of them should fit as well.
Toby bent and took up a pair of dull black leather and eased his feet into them. When he stood straight and fully dressed, he decided that he felt much more comfortable. Turning to escape the overwhelming closet, he was stopped short when his eyes were taken with something that shimmered more brightly than any other object in the closet. He stooped and found buried inside the pocket of one of the glittering coats the exposed hilt of a fine dagger. Curious, he withdrew it.
Its sheath was encrusted with various small jewels over hard burgundy leather. In the center of these jewels were strange symbols embossed in silver dust that sparkled faintly in the light. Too tempted to resist, Toby unsheathed the blade and studied its sharp edge. It was marvelously crafted; its metal seemed to glow as he turned it in his hands. But for some reason he could not bring himself to replace the object. The dagger was smoothly slipped into the tricky lining of the frock coat before he stepped back into the bedroom. The great wardrobe doors all but slammed shut as soon as his foot crossed the threshold. After casting down one final glare, the skull's eyes fixed on the opposite wall and faded.
Walking toward the window, Toby wondered at the strange blade, hoping he would never come upon a situation in which he would have to use it. He stopped at the orifice and allowed the sunlight to bathe his face, relishing in the light breeze that teased his skin. With a great sigh he rested his weight against the thick sill, fighting the urge to let all of his shaky muscles collapse in exhaustion. His eyes roamed the view below.
Twists and turns of the great labyrinth transfixed his attention and he followed them with interest. Beyond the maze of walls was a seemingly barren wasteland spotted with a few horridly mangled trees that stretched their naked boughs about like gnarled fingers, reaching in vain for the contrasting beauty of the sky. There seemed to be no life whatsoever among the maze save for the gently swaying trees of the scattered forests. Strange, for there was not enough wind to invoke their dance.
Toby let himself fall into their odd hypnotizing movements, oblivious to the motion that drew close up behind him. He was snapped back into reality when the Goblin Lord's arms circled his waist possessively.
"I see you've discovered my labyrinth. How do you like it?" The silky voice uttered as a chin descended on Toby's shoulder.
Certain fear returned to the youth's nerves and he chose to remain still. The arms about him squeezed harder and nearly provoked him to nausea.
"The limits of your body amaze me," Jareth whispered sultrily and ran his snake-like tongue along the edge of the young man's ear.
Toby shivered in a mixture of desire and loathing. But he was suddenly flung around to face the master of the castle. A sinister smirk lay like a fine frost upon the pale smoothness of Jareth's face. The youth could not help but notice that the Goblin Lord looked younger somehow as he bravely met those eyes that coldly and brazenly studied him. Those eyes fell slowly along the plummet in his shirt, lingering on the visible fragment of the youth's pale chest.
Toby could not bring himself to speak but merely stood and tried to pry his eyes from the uncomfortable scrutiny the others were paying him. But Jareth had discovered his wounded hands, the shallow lacerations of which had been seeping without his notice. Toby clenched his hands into fists in a vain attempt to hide his wounds.
The Goblin King lifted one with care, smoothing his own fingers over those of the mortal. Looking up into Toby's eyes, he slid those fingers beneath the other's to pry the fist apart. When Toby winced, Jareth smiled and once again lowered his eyes to inspect the marred flesh.
"Ah, I should have warned you about that earlier. But it's nothing serious," he said and raised the palm delicately to his mouth to run his tongue over their shallow lines with nothing short of ceremony. Jareth's eyes closed as he stole the blood from the youth's hand, a look of contentment crossing his features.
Toby watched in fascinated horror. It was as if the man enjoyed the taste of blood whereas Toby could hardly stand the sight of it. Stormy blue returned to meet him fully. Realizing that he was daydreaming, the youth looked down and started when he saw his hands were purged of both blood and bruise.
"Sleep well?" Jareth suddenly asked quite pleasantly, but with a dark glint in his eyes.
The youth looked down at his boots hastily, growing hot in the face. His shame was a blazing pillar in his core, but he couldn't recall just why that would be. The evening before was just a haze in his memory, caused by too much alcohol no doubt; there was nothing more.
"Good," the king said and smiled before taking Toby's hand and pulling him away from the sun.
Jareth led the boy from the room and down the hollow stairwell, supporting the majority of his weight as Toby could just barely walk on his own. Upon entering the common room, the goblins stirred and sneered malignantly at the mortal being led like a pet from their king's arm. They nudged one another and snickered; a few simply burst into peals of laughter that remarkably resembled brittle fingernails being dragged mercilessly over a blackboard. Their terrible eyes ogled Toby and some even glinted with hunger. The youth did not want to think about what would befall him if not for Jareth's power over them. They were easy enough to be around the evening before, but the overindulgence of alcohol made gnawing insistence for food all the stronger and they did not disguise this fact well. Actually, there was something like envy gleaming in their eyes as they gnashed their jaws.
Jareth was unfazed. He merely cast daggers at them with his eyes and they obediently cleared a path for their king. To Toby's surprise, Jareth did not reprimand the few goblins that nipped mockingly at the human's ankles. The youth flinched from them, the look of fear in his eyes only enticing the creatures more. Their laughter was shrill in the distance as the pair descended another set of stairs.
"Where are we going?" Toby ventured.
"You've not eaten yet," came the curt reply.
The youth dared not ask for an embellishment, but simply followed. He had no other choice. The stairway led into an airy dining hall where an enormous table adorning an elegant spread was standing. When he saw it, the youth realized just how weak he felt and the prospect of real food was more immediate in his mind than anything else. Toby was promptly seated on the right side of the master's position at the far end. Jareth took that position.
A scrawny goblin with a tight-set mouth suddenly kicked the set of doors open from the kitchen, carrying with it a covered platter. The large object was set before the Goblin King before the lid was removed and a great cloud of steam beneath billowed out. Toby wondered how the goblin was able to carry it with such a frail structure. The creature bowed uneasily, glaring up with surprising hatred at Toby before scuttling back through the doors.
The youth wondered if the sudden hostility directed at him was based on the feast that would go unshared with the goblins. Or was it something more? The scent of the heavily spiced meat gripped his stomach and his line of thought vanished quickly. Jareth served the youth first before taking some for his own plate. The meal began in silence.
Toby was uneasy, though it was not from the food. On the contrary, it was better than he had expected. But the Goblin King's oblivious manner toward him made him wonder if there was something going on that he didn't know about. It seemed as if Jareth were lost in contemplation. He was excruciatingly curious to know what, but remained quiet.
"They resent my decision to keep you," the King of Goblins said from absolutely nowhere, as if he had been reading Toby's mind the entire time. Yet his eyes refused to look at the mortal.
Toby set his fork down, suddenly wondering what he was doing. Was he truly a prisoner in this castle now? Jareth had implied that escape was impossible. Escape . . . how was it that he got himself tangled in this mess? Toby stared at the half-cleared plate, his hunger suddenly wane. The evening he awoke and found himself in this place . . . what was he doing beforehand? Reading the book. But he remembered that it was from sleeplessness that he picked it up, a sleeplessness born from despair. He faintly recalled the numbing effect of the sleeping pills he had taken just beforehand to ease him into slumber.
Jareth's eyes now slid to his and a kind of questioning was imbedded in that gaze. Toby shuddered; the man was indeed reading his mind.
"Does that bother you?" the king inquired.
"Yes, to be honest," the young man replied, feeling hot with the violation.
"It's difficult not to when your thoughts are so carelessly unguarded."
Toby furrowed his brow and glared at the man, but Jareth only smiled with amusement.
"Now, tell me what brought on this despair. I'm most curious, for it lingers in your lovely eyes every minute."
What was Toby supposed to say? Well, Jareth, I hate my life and it feels like everything I do is totally meaningless or wasted on someone who can't appreciate it one bit, and now I'm prisoner in a castle full of mad goblins ruled by a man who has a thing for black magic. Toby sneered at the thought. But Jareth was still looking at him expectantly. The youth returned a quizzical glance, amazed that the Goblin King now had, or merely displayed, the decency to honor his privacy. But now he had to say something.
"I just have bad luck," he said.
The Goblin Lord raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Honestly, don't waste your breath with such pointless statements." His eyes grew keen. "Tell me what really makes you hurt. And don't lie, because I'll know it."
Toby looked up for a moment and watched a slow smirk take over Jareth's lips. He tore his gaze from the unnervingly raw hunger in the other's eyes and stared down at his hands instead. "I . . . don't know how to answer that."
"Then tell me how it was that you've chosen to wish yourself away."
"It wasn't my choice. I was talking in my sleep," the youth said simply.
"Oh, I think it was more than that. The dream that provoked you to call me was not merely fleeting I imagine," Jareth said and paused to sip his wine. "There's much more to it."
Toby stared at his full glass. "I haven't been sleeping much lately."
"And why is that?"
The youth sighed. "It's my dreams. They've become so strange lately; and when I wake up I can still feel them, like they're trying to devour me. I go about and no matter how hard I try I can't stop thinking about them. People were starting to get annoyed by it, but they didn't seem to care, even my own family. It's miserable."
Jareth's face was alight with interest. "Though I could easily discover for myself, I'd prefer it if you told me. So then, what are these dreams like?"
Toby met the Goblin Lord's inquisitive eyes bravely. "It makes no difference."
"I'm disappointed that you'd try to keep things from me, Jareth. You'll soon learn that such things are impossible." Strange blue eyes darkened. "I'll ask you once more, and advise you to take the chance. It's much more painless that way."
Dread welled up from the youth's depths. It must have showed, as Jareth was now smiling. Toby spoke reluctantly. "Like any dream, it's hard to fully understand. But the theme is always the same. There's a transformation. And the setting looks strangely like this place." He looked accusingly at his host, but very briefly.
The Goblin King's eyes narrowed as he looked at the child. "It must have been beautiful."
Toby continued as if he hadn't heard. "And my sister was there; I believe you remember her. She's calling out to me, begging me to come home. But I can't move, even when she starts to cry. She's telling me to fight." He looked up once again. "Why would she say that?"
Jareth's face was serious, revealing no answers.
"Am I to become her replacement?" Toby dared very quietly, half hoping his companion would not hear.
The King of Goblins leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands before his face. "Don't cheapen yourself."
"I want to go back home," Toby said seriously.
From the glint in Jareth's eyes, it was apparent he was again smiling behind his hands. "Whether or not you meant it, what's said is said. I granted your wish; there can be no reversals. Is such a concept truly so difficult for your human minds to comprehend?"
"Then for what reason are you holding me here?" the youth spat angrily, suddenly irritated with all the questions and cryptic answers.
Jareth's hands unlaced quickly and slammed down on the table as he stood. The silverware and platter shivered as the wineglasses toppled over, staining the white tablecloth deep burgundy. His change in attitude was like a tempest.
"Do you think yourself some kind of victim? It was by my grace that your call was answered. And all this," the king swept a hand over the table and gestured at Toby's clothes, "for a slave? Even your precious sibling didn't have such gifts."
Jareth lifted his hands away before the seeping wine could touch them and took a menacing step closer. "She may have wielded her charms skillfully against me, and for that there can be no forgiveness, but never did she defeat me, even when she took back what was rightfully mine."
The Goblin King eased and stood tall. "Do you have even the vaguest idea why you weren't thrust to rot in the oubliette as soon as you breached the Underground?" His eyes watched Toby's carefully.
Toby's hand unconsciously began to edge toward the blade hidden in his coat. But suddenly Jareth's temper died; he breathed deeply and smiled.
"But there will be time for those answers later." The Goblin Lord resumed his seat and tossed his head. "Oh dear, what a mess." He set the overturned goblets back on their thick bases and refilled them with the strong burgundy wine. Holding one out to Toby he said, "Please, let's put this unpleasantness behind us. You are my guest, are you not?"
*~*~*~*~*
Toby had been ushered off into the custody of the goblin servants, though much to the child's dismay. Jareth sternly commanded the creatures to keep their filthy fingers off the human and his word was never taken lightly. He decided to give Toby his own room for the time being and allow the youth to fully regain his strength. The room was not an exquisite one, but certainly much more accommodating than the pits of the dungeon.
Jareth pulled his garments off and cast them to the floor. They shattered like glass and dissolved as soon as they touched the hard surface; they would reappear moments later in their proper place within his wardrobe. The Goblin Lord descended into satin depths of his ancient bed and stretched his long arms up behind his head, musing over the evening. The anger that sprung from the brazen youth's questions still lingered weakly in his blood. Jareth had hoped that Toby's attitude would not be bound with such similarity to Sarah's, but he learned that it touched the boy deeper than he had desired. That would have to be purged. Once accomplished, his plan could begin its artistry.
He sensed his spell to significantly weaken Toby's memory of the passionate evening shared between them was complete. Not that he regretted his impulsive decision, but he knew that placing a powerful memory like that so suddenly in the summoner's head might do too much damage to start. He would dominate the child's mind slowly to make the boy completely his own. The evening was largely for himself, just a taste of the goods he had recently acquired.
He remembered the warm rush of electric energy he had acquired from Toby and had almost forgotten what it felt like after so many years. It cleared his mind, made him feel remarkably younger, and allowed his imagination more space to roam. Now he took advantage of it as he thought about what the boy said in regards to his dreams. Could he have forseen his fate? Jareth snorted. Impossible for a mortal, he thought, but perhaps the child is strange. All the better.
A smile took the Goblin King's lips as he lowered his eyelids.
*~*~*~*~*
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Toby cried as the goblin snagged his coat roughly and began to jerk it from his back.
"Majesty's orders," the little thing barked fiercely and tugged the coat off. It was cast haphazardly to the floor; the dagger hidden within inched from the lining imperceptibly. The goblin hadn't noticed and moved to seize Toby's shirt, but the youth stepped away defensively. Growling, the creature thrust its hands on its hips and stared with irritation at the boy.
Suddenly the door to the small room crashed open and the other four goblins that had led him up came barreling through with a large, round wooden tub in their hands. The object slammed with an echo on the floor and they skittered away again. The remaining goblin turned back to regard Toby.
"Well if ya ain't needin my help then I be goin. Ya make me sick anyways," the wrinkled goblin said and snorted with disgust before ambling from the room.
As soon as it left, the other goblins returned with great buckets of steaming water that were promptly emptied into the large vessel. They turned to leave without so much as a word to the boy. The last one stopped suddenly and turned to throw a cake of soap at Toby's feet before wrinkling its thin nose and following its companions. The door slammed behind it and the lock slid in place from the opposite side.
Toby relaxed in their absence and eyed the steaming tub. A bath sounded marvelous just then. He eased off the remainder of his clothes and recovered the pale soap from the floor. Stepping cautiously into the hot water, Toby immediately felt relief and steeped himself fully with no more hesitation. He worked the soap carefully over his skin and set it on the ledge. Studying the simple room, he wondered how long he would be held up there. Though thankful to be absent from the Goblin King's presence, he'd have to devise a way to escape and return home. Jareth seemed to have some unspoken plans for him with his "favor" and it was frightening to imagine the possibilities of what those were. The haze in his mind from the evening before did not sit well with him and the idea of the King of Goblins using his thoughts like a toy was anything but reassuring.
Toby rested his head on the tub ledge and allowed his eyes to slip closed, thoroughly enjoying the hot refreshing water. He thought about Sarah and suddenly longed to speak to her. They hadn't seen one another for a long time and it was as though his only sister was forgetting him. He knew she was busy, but their visits moved further and further apart until they seemed like those between two strangers. He missed the closeness they had when he was younger, the relationship that was like caring friends' more than just siblings'. When she moved away it nearly broke his heart.
His peace was abruptly broken when the door unlocked and opened to another inconsiderate goblin. Toby turned his head and watched as it strode into the room with an armful of clothes. It was the goblin that threw him the soap.
"Thank you," he said as the creature set the clothes on the bed.
Its pointed ears perked up as it returned the boy's glance.
"I'm Toby. What's your name?"
The goblin shifted its mouth to the side and thought for a moment. "Ain't got no name," it said and began to shuffle back toward the door.
"Maybe I could give you one," Toby called before the thing could escape. To his relief, it stopped and seemed to consider, but kept its back to him.
"Don't need one," it said decisively and stormed from the room.
Toby sighed. So much for making an ally, he thought. With a bit of regret, he lifted himself from the tub and realized that there were no towels to dry with. He walked to the window and pushed it open to the evening air when an idea tempted him. His eyes fell downward to see if the orifice provided a possible means of escape. They quickly dimmed with disappointment at the sight of the long, needle-like thorns bursting generously from thick bushes that covered the ground beneath and had even begun to climb the high tower wall.
"Damn it," Toby said softly and stared out over the labyrinth bathed in the light of the moon. For several moments his eyes ran over its countless paths in an attempt to somehow memorize them, wondering what path his sister had taken. Frustrated, Toby closed the window and stalked to his bed. But the glimmer of the exposed dagger caught his eye and he altered his course to retrieve it.
He slipped into the bed and promptly placed the weapon beneath his pillow. The sheets were not fine, but soothing to his tired muscles nonetheless. It didn't take long before his last threads of consciousness were severed, but in those final seconds he almost swore he felt the touch of icy fingers seeking the outskirts of his dawning dreams.
*
To be continued . . .
*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Once again, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews!