Chapter Twelve- The Final Challenge
Ah, the end is now truly in sight. Only one more chapter to go after this, and then the story will be over, and I can step back from the keyboard and regain some feeling in my fingers, actually speak to my family again, move out of the study, be reintroduced to the real world, and regain some valuable social skills. Like, say, not saying evil laugh , complete with funny gestures, when I actually wish to laugh evilly. What am I going to do then?
Anyway, before that stage is reached, here lies the penultimate chapter of "An Illusion of Magic". Those of you who have seen Labyrinth, please don't have a go at me for not changing the challenges so much, I've kept the stair room as part of the end of the challenge. I tried to think of something else to use, but in the end I couldn't really think of anything, so the lovely stair room stayed.
Lady-Miranda-Van-Tassel: I'm glad you liked the chapter. Yes, it was indeed a good thing Mab snapped out of her giggling fit. I thought that Frik deserved just a tiny bit of retribution for what happened to Morgan, and that was basically it.
Incapability: Thanks! I'm glad you found the chapter amusing. Yes, Jareth is just out for revenge, and to try and heal his own wounded ego. About the witches, when I first wrote them in, I considered bringing them all back in one go as more impassive, neutral elements of the Labyrinth, less anti-Jareth, but then I thought it would make more sense for them to be on Mab's side, seeing as she is more closely linked to them (Also, I couldn't resist putting in another "See the Little Goblin" song).
Jadanni- Thanks for your comments- I'm glad people like the witches, I was worried people would think they were daft. Yes, Mab might have some slight anger management problems, but she does have good reasons- most people don't get "killed" by their own kid.
Anyway, on with the story...
Mab stared around as she reached the top of the staircase. The room she found herself in was possibly one of the most unusual places she'd seen in the Underground so far. The room was large, and filled with staircases- some leading up, some leading down, some travelling up the wall at an impossibly steep angle, many leading to entrances set into the walls, some were even upside down. Jareth was nowhere to be seen, neither were Arthur or Mordred. Turning back to Merlin and Frik, wondering what they thought of this strange room, she was startled to find that they were nowhere in sight. Staring through the entranceway she'd just come through, she saw that the staircase she'd just climbed had been replaced by a flight of stairs leading upwards.
"Of course," Mab thought in irritation, "Jareth's maze doesn't end at the city gates." Turning back to the large room filled with stairs, she called out. "Merlin!" Her voice echoed from the walls of the cavernous room, reflecting her words back at her, but though she listened carefully, she couldn't hear Merlin's voice reply. "Frik!" she tried instead, but once again she heard nothing but the echoes of her own voice. On a whim she called out "Mordred!" but that, unsurprisingly, proved useless too.
Steeling herself, Mab descended a short staircase that lay in front of her- her footsteps seeming to be magnified tenfold- following the path it led to for a moment, before climbing another set of stairs that led her to a dead-end platform. Mab turned to go back, but was stopped by what sounded like footsteps coming from below her. Walking cautiously to the edge of the platform, she peered over. Seeing nothing there, she turned back again, just in time to see Jareth walk down the wall sideways, and step onto the platform in front of her. He smiled sadistically at her.
Mab knew she couldn't fight him, not here, not now. She wasn't strong enough to battle him in his own realm, he would defeat her in two minutes at most, and she didn't have the time to try.
Without a word, she went to push past him, to run back the way she had come, but was brought up short when she reached the other side of the platform and saw that the staircase had disappeared. Panicked, she turned back and stared around, looking for a way off the platform, but there was none. Jareth didn't make a move towards her for the moment, but watched her in amusement.
"What's this?" he asked in mock surprise, "No grand plan? No way out? No clever realisations at the last minute? Come now, Mab, surely you didn't make it all this way through my Labyrinth just to end up falling at the last hurdle?" Mab didn't bother replying, casting around in her mind for some sort of solution. Staring down from the platform, she realised.
"I could jump," she thought, "It's not too far to the stairs below." She went to step forward, but Jareth seemed to anticipate her thoughts, and caught her arm, pulling her back.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mab," he informed her, nodding over the edge of the platform. As Mab stared, the steps beneath her seemed to grow further and further and further away, as though the platform was moving upwards. Mab stared down in despair. She couldn't jump from this height, even with her magic the fall would most probably kill her, or at least injure her enough to prevent her from completing the challenge. There was no way off the platform.
She was trapped.
Merlin wandered through the stair rooms, each one leading him on and on, but none of them seeming to lead any closer to Arthur, or Mordred, or his two companions. Mab and Frik seemed to have vanished completely since they had all ascended the stairs together. Merlin prayed that Jareth hadn't managed to ensnare them somehow- despite what had happened in the past between Mab and himself, despite what Frik had done during the challenge; neither of them deserved an eternity as Jareth's prisoners.
Merlin didn't know how long they still had to complete the challenge, but he knew enough to make a fair approximation, and he knew that time was running dangerously short.
"Has it not been thirteen hours yet?" he thought to himself in amazement. Thirteen hours had seemed- and still did seem- an impossibly short time in which to complete this Labyrinth, and yet, so much had happened, it seemed like he had been wondering the Labyrinth for days, weeks, even. He thought back over the events of the past few hours- he'd met, and been challenged by Jareth, had bargained his freedom on a chance to bring back Arthur, had seen Mab and Frik for the first time since that final battle five years ago, had called a truce with his former archenemy, been privy to her innermost thoughts and feelings, been attacked by griffins, seen Nimue (albeit only an illusion of his lost love), fought against an army of goblins, and met three of the strangest magic users he'd ever come across, all within less time than it took to complete an entire day. It had been tiring, it had been dangerous, at times he had hated everyone and everything around him, he'd been betrayed by someone he thought of as a friend, and been made to feel guilty for actions that he had never thought of as wrong. And yet, somehow, he couldn't regret agreeing to the challenge- and not just because of his original good intentions of bringing Arthur back to rule in England. True, Jareth and his kingdom were both loathsome beyond all belief, and the last thirteen hours had been anything but enjoyable, but, for the first time in five long years, he had a purpose to drive him onwards, rather than empty days spent sitting alone and contemplating the general loneliness and pointlessness of his continued existence. And he had company, allies; he'd even made a tenuous friendship with Mab, which was something he'd never believed possible before today. He'd reconciled himself with half of his nature, and found that he didn't hate either himself or Mab for it. And once this challenge was over, everything would return to the way it was before- at war with Mab, the two halves of his nature battling it out for control, being distrusted by the Christians for being what he was, and being hated by the Old Ways for denying his magical nature.
Despite this, Merlin knew that, whatever good things might have happened over the last few hours, they would be quickly overshadowed by what would happen to all three of them should they fall under Jareth's control. Better to be at war with Mab than to watch her be slowly destroyed as he and Frik toiled away at a miserable and meaningless existence. Bearing this in mind, he strode up the staircase, though an entranceway into another, much larger, stair chamber.
It was then that he finally saw Mab. She was standing on a platform jutting out from the wall, at least thirty feet above the nearest set of stairs. Jareth was standing in front of her, smiling nastily, and muttering something that Merlin couldn't hear.
"Mab!" he shouted across to her. Her head snapped up to look at him, and her eyes widened when she saw him.
"Merlin?" Merlin cast his eyes around for some way to get to her, but there was none as far as he could see. Mab called out to him again, more urgently now. "Merlin, go! Leave me here!" Merlin stared at her uncertainly, not wanting to leave her alone with Jareth. "Go!" Mab demanded, more angrily, but still he hesitated. "Merlin, go now! Find Mordred! Please!" she added desperately. Merlin nodded, not wanting to make her plead with him any more. He realised why she was telling him to leave, then. If someone didn't carry on the challenge and find Mordred, then Mab lost her part of the challenge. She could cope with Jareth for a few minutes here as his enemy, but not forever as his bride.
Glancing back momentarily to make sure that Mab was alright, and not in imminent danger of being pushed off the platform, Merlin hurried along the rest of the staircase, and out of sight.
Mab watched as Merlin left, before turning back to face Jareth. He had a nasty smirk on his face.
"Hmmm," he observed, "Interesting idea, Mab. Gambling your chances of winning on dearest Merlin finding Mordred in time. You must be desperate. Tell me, how high do you rate your chances now?"
"Considering the microscopic intellect we're up against, I'd say fairly high," Mab replied, looking Jareth in the eye, refusing to let him think he had any authority over her. The smirk never left Jareth's face.
"I'll write that off as an insult out of desperation, shall I?" he asked, leaning towards her, "Because you and I both know that it is, don't we?" Mab glared at him.
"I know nothing of the sort," she snapped. Jareth raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, really?" he asked silkily, "Out of all three of you, you're the one that knows me best. You may not like me, but even you must admit that I excel at puzzles and confusion. Merlin has five minutes to find Mordred in a maze that, in its own way, is every bit as puzzling as the Labyrinth. And that's assuming he even tries to find Mordred. He came here to find Arthur, remember? To bring peace to Britain? And Mordred, amusing as he might be, is hardly going to bring that about now, is he? Why would Merlin even bother looking for him? Because you asked him to?" His voice was mocking, "He's left you for dead once before. What's to say he wouldn't do it again?" Mab glared at him. Goddess knows, the thought had crossed her mind before now, but she had to remind herself that it was only Jareth playing games with her head, trying to scare her. He carried on, in the same mocking voice, "Or perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps Merlin really will look for Mordred. After all, you share the same blood, the same magic. And we all know how well that worked out before, don't we?" Mab turned away from Jareth, not wanting to listen to his words anymore. Jareth appeared in front of her, blocking her way. He caught her by the back of the neck, forcing her to look at him, and continued, "Or is it different now? Did the two of you set aside your differences? Make friends?" He laughed now, "How precious. How very touching. And the best part is that you genuinely believe it. There was me thinking that you had no faith in mortals any more…" Mab hit him then, as hard as she could. He staggered backwards, holding his hand to his face, caught off guard.
"You know nothing about me," Mab snarled threateningly, "Or what I think." Jareth smirked, advancing on her.
"I know everything about you," he told her, "You can't hide your thoughts, Mab, you're pathetically easy to read." Mab didn't back away, but stared at him defiantly.
"Oh, am I?" she asked, "Then you'll know that you don't scare me. You're nothing but a liar and a coward hiding behind your illusions, and I am not afraid of you!" Jareth didn't move for a moment, merely stared silently at her. Then he leapt forward and caught her by the throat. Stepping forward so that her face was centimetres from his own, he murmured threateningly to her.
"You should be. Because in about five minutes, it'll be up to me whether or not to make your life a living hell. If I were you, I'd be attempting to ingratiate myself as much as possible. But then," he continued, forcing her backwards until she was teetering on the very edge of the platform, "That's never been your style, has it Mab? You'd rather fight a hopeless cause right up until the end. You'll resist any threat, whatever the cost, even if it destroys you. It's rather sweet, actually. But here's the problem. You're not in control here. Whatever I choose to happen will happen. I could just drop you off the platform now, and there's nothing you could do to stop it..."
Frik was not often a fortunate person. His luck was more often than not of the bad variety, but every so often, even he had his moment of glorious luck shining down upon him. Which would probably explain why, despite being the most cowardly and the least powerful of all three of the challengers who'd entered the stair room, he managed to find Arthur before either Merlin or Mab. Well, perhaps "found" was too strong a word. "Stumbled over" might be more accurate.
He'd been dashing through corridors, unsure of whether he was looking for Mordred and Arthur, or Merlin and Mab, or just a way out of this new and not-so-exciting maze, when someone had called out to him from down a small corridor.
"Wait!" Turning back, Frik saw a barred gate embedded in the wall. Behind the gate, in a small enclosed room, was Arthur.
Frik sighed in relief, "Thank all the Powers that ever lived- well, except Jareth, obviously- it's not Mordred." Frik had about as many fond memories of Arthur's son as he had medals for bravery. So cheerful was he about this fact, that he smiled and walked up to Arthur with a cheery, "Hello."
"I know you," said Arthur, suddenly realising, "You're one of my soldiers, when I was fighting against Mordred…Then I appeared here…" He trailed off, the confusing nature of the last thirteen hours apparently catching up with him, "What's going on?" he asked Frik.
"Oh, it's a long story," replied Frik, "You were brought here by the Goblin King…"
"Is he something to do with the Old Ways?" Arthur asked. Frik shook his head.
"Oh, no," he replied cheerfully, "Queen Mab absolutely detests him, if he was anything to do with the Old Ways, it would have collapsed from infighting long before the Romans came to Britain."
"Isn't it a good thing if Queen Mab hates him?" Arthur asked slowly, "She's meant to be our enemy after all." Frik sighed.
"Believe me, that's an even longer story, and there's no time to go into it now. Anyway, Mordred's here too, and Merlin…"
"Merlin's here?" Arthur sounded astonished. "Where is he?"
"An excellent question," Frik told him, "But I'm not entirely sure of the answer at present."
"Help me get out of here!" Arthur told Frik urgently. Frik nodded.
"Just let me get this door open…" he began, before seeing the large chain holding the door shut. The very thick chain that he had no way of unlocking.
"Ah," he said, "This could take a while."
Mab gripped Jareth's wrist, simultaneously trying to stop herself from falling, and to loosen his painful grip on her throat. He didn't let her go, however, nor even loosen his grip to help her to breathe, merely continued to talk.
"You should be grateful, Mab," he told her, "I'm the only one who cared enough to take you out of your pathetic existence…"
"You're the only one twisted enough," Mab thought, but she couldn't get the words out. She could see black dots darting across her gaze, could feel consciousness slipping out of her grasp. Noticing this, Jareth loosened his grip just enough to allow her to breathe.
"You see?" he told her, "I'm not unreasonable. I don't see why you're so unwilling to become my queen. Anyone else from the Void would be clamouring to be in your place."
"Well, you should have asked one of them, then, shouldn't you?" Mab thought, "Besides, I hardly think they'd be clamouring to be held over a large drop by their throat." She didn't voice those thoughts, instead she glared at Jareth.
"Let me go," she snarled. Jareth's response was to push her further backwards, until she was physically tilting over the edge, the only thing preventing her from falling was his hand around her neck. He smiled.
"But if I let you go now," he said in a falsely regretful manner, "You'll fall. It's a long way down from here to the ground. Do you have any idea how much harm that could do to you? How it could break every bone in your body? Absolutely agonising pain. Or it might even paralyse you for a while. You wouldn't be able to feel anything then. You couldn't move, couldn't feel. You'd be completely helpless, utterly defenceless. Somehow I can't see you enjoying that." He slid an arm round her waist. Mab struggled weakly, but she didn't dare move too much in case Jareth dropped her. He smiled cruelly, "Besides, why would I want to let you go when I could do this instead?" he asked, pressing his lips against hers, holding onto her in a bruising embrace. Mab tried to struggle then, she didn't care if she fell, but it was as if she really had been paralysed, and she couldn't move. White hot tears of humiliation burned the backs of her eyes, and when Jareth finally broke off his cruel kiss, she could feel that she had been crying.
Jareth regarded her coolly. Finally releasing his grip on her throat, he traced her lips, now slightly bruised.
"But then, it doesn't do to spoil the prize before I've even won," he said, half to himself, "They'll be plenty of time for that in… oh, about four minutes. Then we'll have a whole eternity to spend together." With that, he pulled her back onto the platform, pushing her roughly so that she landed on the floor.
Mab turned to face Jareth. There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who, when backed into a corner, cower on the floor, cover their head with their hands and say, "Please don't hurt me!", and those who fight back until they've hurt the other person who just backed them into a corner as much as possible. Mab was, without a doubt, one of the latter. At that moment, all she wanted to do was strike back at Jareth.
"Poor Jareth," she hissed mockingly, "Unlucky in love, aren't you? No-one would ever willingly sit at your side. Not me, not that mortal girl that you're so deeply in love with…" Jareth's eyes darkened.
"What do you mean by that?" he snapped, clearly not having expected Mab to come out with that. Satisfied that she'd hit a nerve, Mab continued.
"Jareth, it's painfully obvious. You're not exactly hard to read yourself, you know. You're in love with the girl who solved the Labyrinth." Jareth advanced on her.
"If you don't silence your insane ramblings, believe me when I say I'll take the greatest pleasure in doing it myself," he growled, angry, but obviously unnerved that it was so obvious to her. Mab raised an eyebrow.
"Did she turn you down Jareth?" she asked tauntingly, "What a shame. And after all you did for her, too. If her challenge was anything like ours, you taunted her, confused her, poisoned her, tried to take away something dear to her… Oh, I can't see a single reason for her to loathe you."
"Shut up, now!" Jareth commanded. Mab continued.
"Oh, but I thought we were sharing our thoughts, Jareth. Aren't you having fun anymore? Believe me, there's plenty more thoughts I have, and they're not mine alone. All you want to do is control people, and when they won't play your game, you throw a tantrum and try and make them, like some sort of spoilt child. But all you do is make people loathe you even more. You can't force someone to love you- obey you, maybe, but not love- and when you try, all that it does is make them hate you. Like that girl- perhaps you really did want to make her fall in love with you, but you made her hate you instead- and you're still in love with her!" Mab laughed derisively, "The saddest thing is, you're the only one who can't see what you are. A lonely, spoilt, self-indulgent, cruel, pathetic…"
Jareth backhanded her viciously across her face, silencing her and knocking her to the floor with a painful thud. Mab didn't move for a moment, dazed by the force of the blow, and wondering why everyone had decided to start hitting her across the face today. Not allowing her time for a brief respite, Jareth stalked over to her.
"Impudent whore!" he snarled, "How dare you call me pathetic!" Mab struggled to her feet.
"Did I strike a nerve, Jareth?" she taunted, "And you can call me what you want, I'm sure you've called me worse before. All it proves is that you know I'm right."
Jareth caught her by the arms and slammed her against the wall behind her. Fury burned in his gaze, and for a moment Mab thought he might hit her again, or throw her off the platform. After a moment, he managed to regain some self control.
"Do you want to know what's truly pathetic?" he demanded, "Someone who spends their entire existence acting as though they're above everyone and everything else, even when they've been reduced to less than nothing. You have no kingdom, no purpose, your powers aren't what they used to be, and quite frankly, neither are your looks. There is no point to your existence, no meaning. If you faded away into nothing tomorrow, no-one would care- not one being, not your former servant, not your sister, not even your own son. You have been reduced to the lowest of the low, spending years travelling through one of the most nightmarish places imaginable, with every other being that time forgot." He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her, "And I promise you this, before I'm through with you, I will make you long to be back there."
Merlin turned the corner. From far off, he thought he'd heard Mab cry out, and he was trying to get back to where he'd last seen her.
As he made his way along the corridors, he thought he heard a tapping noise. Following it curiously, he managed to trace it to its source. A large barred gate sat embedded in the wall, and behind it stood a young man with black hair and icy blue eyes. He looked bored, and was tapping the gate impatiently, as though doing so would bring someone to come and let him out. When he heard Merlin's approach, he looked up and regarded Merlin through cold, narrowed eyes.
"What do you want?" he demanded. Merlin smiled thinly.
"It's nice to see you too, Mordred," he replied mildly. He'd somehow doubted that any reunion between him and Mordred would be a happy one on either side, even though the fact that they'd both in some capacity been created by Mab meant that they were linked in some way, by magic if not by birth.
Mordred ignored Merlin's pleasantries, somewhat empty though they'd been.
"Where's Auntie Mab?" he snapped angrily, as though the fact that it wasn't her standing there was somehow Merlin's own personal fault. Merlin noted that this was the second question Mordred had asked him, and wondered idly what the ever-impatient Skeksi would have made of him. Dinner, probably.
"I don't know exactly, Mordred," Merlin replied tiredly, "If I did, I'd tell you."
"Is she alright?" Mordred asked, his tone implying that he would very much like to be torturing the answers out of Merlin rather than merely asking him.
"I hope so," replied Merlin truthfully, "Hopefully Jareth won't risk harming any of us yet." Mordred snorted.
"I couldn't care less if he kills you and makes ornaments out of your fingers. And don't pretend you care what happens to me or Auntie Mab."
"Strange as it may seem, Mordred, I do care what happens to Mab. And… well, let's not push the boundaries of reality too far, it wouldn't bother me greatly if you fell off the stairs, but unfortunately, that would condemn Mab, too."
"Since when do you care what happens to Auntie Mab? You left her, remember. She should have killed you then in my opinion." There was a strange expression in Mordred's eyes, was it…jealousy?
"Mordred, neither of us is happy to see each other. Shall we move on from that subject now?"
"What are you doing here, then, if you dislike me so much?" Mordred snarled. Merlin stared at him for a minute. He could leave now, leave Mordred here. Perhaps he could find Arthur in time, and then Arthur could definitely come back to Britain, with no threat from Mordred, and none of Mab plotting to bring back the Old Ways to contend with. And he and Frik would be free, too. Mordred had never been a part of their bargain. But then, there was no way of leaving Mordred behind without leaving Mab behind as well. In his mind, Merlin saw her, saw her as she had been when he'd fought against her, saw her as she was now, as his ally, his friend. He saw her fighting everything Jareth had thrown at her, and he saw the look in her eyes when she contemplated a future as Jareth's bride. Then, unbidden, he saw her as she might look in the future if he left her here at Jareth's mercy. Ill, tired, weak, miserable and scared, left alone in her own version of hell, with no way to get out, and no-one to help her.
Merlin sighed. "Who'd have thought the day would come when I'd stick my neck out, and that of all of Britain, for the sake of Queen Mab?" Gathering some magic into his hand, he fixed his attention on the chain that held the barred door shut. "It appears, Mordred, that I'm getting you out."
Frik smashed the large rock into the chain again and again. This truly was extremely slow work.
"Hurry!" Arthur urged from behind the door.
"I am hurrying!" Frik moaned.
Jareth stared at the clock, a satisfied expression on his face. From behind him, Mab stared at it, panic beginning to overwhelm her. Only one minute left…
"Merlin, please, hurry…" she thought frantically, "Don't let me end up as his prisoner…"
"Forty-five seconds…" Jareth muttered, "And counting…" He turned towards Mab. "Poor Mab, it seems your dear friends have failed you." Mab shook her head.
"No!" she denied, "There's still time." Jareth laughed.
"Thirty seconds…" he informed her, "If they plan to save themselves- and you, of course- then they really are cutting it extremely thin."
"But we haven't lost yet," Mab snapped.
"Mab, you have ten seconds left. No more ridiculous delaying. You're mine." He grabbed her arm, and pulled her closer to him. Mab closed her eyes in horror.
"No…" she whispered in desperation, but it was hopeless. Jareth was winning. She was about to lose everything she had left.
"Auntie!" A voice suddenly shouted out loudly. Mab's eyes snapped open, and she and Jareth turned to face its source. Standing on a ledge several feet away from where she stood was Merlin, and Mordred was with him. A short distance away, Frik and Arthur were running into the stair room too. Mab could have collapsed with relief then, but instead she turned to Jareth.
"You were saying?" she asked mockingly, laughingly. Jareth hadn't won. They'd beaten him, beaten everything he could throw at them. He snarled wordlessly and vanished as the stair room began to shift and change, until they were all standing in a large room, on a flat stone floor.
The five of them stared awkwardly at each other for a moment. To Mordred and Arthur, who hadn't been there to journey through the Labyrinth, it must have seemed like a miniature version of the Camelot wars- Merlin and Mab, Mordred and Arthur, and Frik caught in the middle. Arthur was staring uncertainly at Mab and Mordred, Frik was keeping a wary eye on Mordred, who was glaring around at just about everyone except Mab, who in turn was shooting Arthur an absolutely icy stare.
In the end, Merlin was the first one to speak.
"You're hurt," he told Mab. She looked surprised, and put a hand to the side of her head, still aching from Jareth's earlier attack. She'd almost forgotten about it in the panic of almost losing.
"It's nothing," she replied. Mordred looked angry.
"Did Jareth do that?" he asked. Without even bothering to wait for a reply, he nodded to himself and muttered angrily, "I'm going to kill him."
"Haven't we done that already?" Merlin asked, glancing around him, "He's gone." Mab shook her head.
"Unfortunately not. He's probably just gone off to soothe his wounded pride," she said, sounding absolutely ecstatic at the thought of Jareth's misery.
"Merlin, what's going on?" asked Arthur, looking extremely confused. Merlin smiled at him.
"It's a long story, my friend. I'm not entirely sure that I understand it myself." He paused for a moment and stared at his old friend. "It's good to see you again, Arthur." Arthur laughed.
"You talk as if we didn't say goodbye only a few days ago!"
"It might have been a few days for you, Arthur, but it's been years for me," Merlin responded sadly.
A few feet away, Mab and Mordred were talking between themselves.
"I knew you'd defeat him," Mordred told Mab, sounding for all the world like the smug, spoilt child that he really was, "He didn't stand a chance." Mab didn't like to disagree with Mordred and tell him just how large a chance Jareth had actually had of winning.
"Of course he didn't," she replied, smiling indulgently at her young protégée, and taking the opportunity to look him over, see if he'd changed at all. He hadn't, of course, the years since his death had not affected him- as far as he was concerned, only a day had passed since whatever time Jareth had removed him from, not like the years it had been since that time for Mab.
"Um, excuse me?" Frik called out tentatively. The other four stared at him, waiting for whatever it was he had to say, "I don't wish to dampen the thrill of victory for anyone, but… shouldn't we be back in the mortal realm now?" All of them started, realising the truth of Frik's words. Before any of them could say anything, however, a voice rang out from the shadows.
"That's not quite true, Frik," Jareth informed him smoothly, striding out towards them, "Or have you all forgotten the prophecy that I told you about?"
"Jareth, we've beaten your challenge. Return us to our world," Merlin told him angrily. Jareth fixed Merlin with a steady gaze.
"Yes, indeed, you defeated the Labyrinth. And so, the three of you…," he pointed at Mab, Merlin and Frik, "…will be returned to the Realm of Men. But we still have to decide which of these two…," now he indicated Mordred and Arthur, "…will be coming with you." Mab went to protest, and Jareth held up a hand to silence her.
"Now, now, no complaints. I told you at the beginning that either Mordred or Arthur would die at the end of this challenge. But," he continued cheerily, "Look on the bright side. At least Britain will be at peace at the end of it." He laughed cruelly. This was his last dying strike, and he would make it hurt them as much as he could. He waved a hand, and suddenly, Mordred and Arthur were standing several metres away from the others, both of them clutching weapons. Mab and Merlin went to step forward, to go to them, but an invisible force held them back.
"Now," said Jareth mockingly, "Who will win, I wonder? I have to say, my money would be on Mordred. But then, who knows what unforeseen circumstances might occur during the fight. All kinds of things can happen in the Underground. Imagine the tragic waste if Mordred were to trip and fall, and to lose that way…" He laughed nastily. Mab turned on him.
"You wouldn't dare…" she snarled. Jareth stood behind her and whispered to her.
"Oh, I would. Poor Mordred, one minute he's here, reunited with his dear aunt, and the next, gone, dead, nothing left."
"You'd gain nothing from Mordred's death!" Mab protested, but Jareth could hear the undertones of panic in her voice. He smirked.
"It would amuse me to see your reaction," he told her. Then he paused thoughtfully and continued, "Of course, perhaps if I were to gain something better in return. Some kind of trade, for sparing their lives. I could send both of them back to the mortal realm in return- if I were properly compensated of course. A life for a life, one being for another, that seems fair enough." He ran his hand over her hair, "A bride, perhaps?"
"I'd rather die!" Mab retorted. Jareth smiled cruelly.
"Ah, but would you rather Mordred died? Think carefully. I could spare his life…" Mab didn't speak for a moment, staring between Jareth and Mordred in horror.
Frik, who was the nearest to Mab and Jareth, happened to have overheard the conversation, and he stared at them with narrowed eyes for a minute, as though thinking of something. Eventually, he seemed to realise something.
"You can't do that!" he said in surprise. Jareth, Mab and Merlin all turned to face him.
"Excuse me?" Jareth growled dangerously.
"You can't do that," Frik repeated, looking nervous, "You can't trade Mab for Mordred." Jareth looked exceedingly angry.
"I'd like to see you try to stop me, gnome!" he sneered. Normally, Frik would have been hiding behind something at this point, but something seemed to have triggered his school-lecturer mode, and he went on regardless.
"No, I mean you physically can't," Frik told him, "If a prophecy is made about two specific people, you can't offer to back out of the terms by exchanging one life for another, or whatever it is that the prophecy deals with. Prophecies don't work like that. It's only laws and bargains that can be appeased by exchanges, not prophecies. I thought everyone knew that."
"And you think I don't?" Jareth snapped, caught off guard. Mab twisted round to face him.
"Frik's right," she snapped, "Everyone knows that, it doesn't matter what world you're on- and you know it too, you admitted it yourself!" Jareth looked furious once more. Now was he to be denied this victory?
Mordred and Arthur had stopped fighting, too, and they walked over to the others. All five of them glared at Jareth, comprehension dawning.
"There was no prophecy!" Mab snapped, "Or you wouldn't have bothered mentioning it." She turned to the others, "Jareth made this prophecy up as a last resort in case we beat him, so that he could still trick at least one of us into giving ourselves up to him. Like I said," she went on, staring Jareth defiantly in the eye, "He's a liar, he's pathetic, and he's a coward." Jareth went to strike her again, but Merlin and Mordred stepped forward in front of her.
"Touch her again and I swear I'll kill you," snarled Mordred. Merlin just glared at Jareth.
"Send us back," he said coldly, "We fulfilled our side of the bargain. We beat your Labyrinth. You have no way of keeping us here any longer." Jareth stared around them all in a furious, impotent rage. Then suddenly, his eyes alighted on Mordred and Arthur, and he gave another truly evil smile. If he couldn't have them, then he would make them suffer instead.
"Very well," he told them, eyes flashing, "I'll send you all back to before Arthur and Mordred died." He clicked his fingers and a crystal ball appeared. All five contestants glanced warily at it, not knowing why Jareth was suddenly giving in.
"Enjoy your time together!" Jareth laughed mockingly, before smashing the crystal against the ground. There was a bright flash of light, and then everything went black.
Mab opened her eyes groggily. Her head was pounding, and it felt not unlike someone had stuffed a pile of wool into her brain. When she regained enough control over her senses to see where she was, she started in surprise. This wasn't the Void. She was lying on a comfortable bed made from crystals, that sat in a large chamber with walls carved out of the purple and grey rock. She knew this place. It was her own kingdom; it was the Land of Magic. For a moment, she lay where she was, not understanding what was going on, before remembering the events of the previous thirteen hours.
"So, Jareth did keep his word?" Mab wondered to herself. It certainly seemed as though he'd sent her back to her old kingdom, but then, appearances could be very deceptive where Jareth was concerned. Sitting up and climbing out of the bed, she walked over to the door of the chamber and pushed it open cautiously, half expecting to find herself back in the Underground. But no, this was still the Land of Magic, exactly as it had been when she had last seen it. Fairies and other small magical creatures flitted and fluttered through the rooms, calling out to each other in high pitched squeaking voices. Crystals lay strewn across the floor, in various degrees of fading, and old books sat out on tables and other surfaces.
It seemed so close to being too good to be true, that Mab was still slightly suspicious of it, but she could feel deep inside her that this was no trick or illusion, any more than her hatred for Jareth was. It was her kingdom. After all those years of fighting, of running away from the inevitable oblivion of being forgotten, all those years of travelling through that hellish void, and having to complete Jareth's monstrous challenge, and she was finally back where she belonged.
She began to descend the steps to her inner sanctum. The large crystal cluster in the centre of the room was clouded and misty, and as Mab drew nearer, she felt an increasing foreboding deep within herself. As she reached the bottom, she waved a hand, and the crystals cleared and settled on an image. From where she stood, Mab could see it was showing her a battle. As she crossed the room to the crystals, the image shifted again. Mab waited until it settled. What was happening? What had Jareth done now?
The crystals now showed her Arthur and Mordred standing opposite each other on the battlefield, fighting viciously. As she watched, Mordred was wounded by Arthur, who went to kill him, but then he stabbed his father instead, before the king could do anything …
Mab recognised the scene with a horrible clarity, and then she knew what the feeling of foreboding was, knew what Jareth had done. He'd sent them back, but not in time to stop this. Reaching out, she clutched uselessly at the crystals, as though she could stop what was about to happen, but even then she knew it was useless.
Arthur gasped in pain from the stab wound Mordred had just inflicted on him. Turning towards his son, he thrust Excalibur into Mordred's chest in a blind fury.
Jareth's mocking laughter seemed to echo through the caves, getting louder and louder, as Mab let out a scream.
"No!"
And here we endeth another chapter. Sorry for those readers who wanted to see Jareth win- I don't like to disappoint you, but I had no idea what to write if that had happened- it would have left the story too open ended, and I would have trailed on uselessly for ages. In the end it came down to do I make them win and be able to finish off the story with a clear idea in my head, or make them lose and carry on with the story until it peters out in a crappy, no-real-ending way. So, there we go.
I said that I wanted to finish the story in time for Christmas, and I'm still going to try, but with Christmas not all that far off now, I may fail- in case the last part isn't up by Christmas, Happy Christmas everybody!