Author's Note: Hello everyone, and thank you for reading along. I am more pleased with this chapter than the previous one, partly because it was easier to write. Chapters which are easier to write always seem more polished to me somehow... probably because the story was already in my head and it is a relief to type it out for an audience the way I picture it.
Nunnals, Sarah possesses no magical powers, at least, not the way the Goblin King does. But she isn't entirely powerless, either...
SmeagulTheWeasul, it's no problem. I don't think it's dorky to plan ahead with your comments, it's actually a good idea. If more people thought before they spoke/wrote, there'd be a lot fewer problems in the world. Thank you for commenting.
For everyone else who is anxious to see how the story turns out...thank you. I'm actually kind of touched anyone cares and has even a modicum of interest in this story. Your comments certainly inspire me to keep going, and I hope not to disappoint you.
The chapter begins with Sarah's dream.
Chapter Seven: What Dreams May Come
She was standing in the doorway of a chamber. A glass-domed roof opened up to a brilliant night sky with so many stars that the room was bathed in their silvery light. Sarah shivered. No fire burned in the hearth, and air held a wintery chill. In the center of the room was a bed draped with white silk, and as she stepped in the room, the sleeping figure that lay on it stirred restlessly.
"We must stop meeting this way, Sarah." His tone was wry, his voice rough with fatigue. "People will talk."
Sarah drew closer. The Goblin King was pale, the color of ashes. With great effort, he pulled himself up a little further, his eyes wary and sharp on her. One trembling gloved hand snaked out from under the covers to ward her off.
"Don't come any closer."
Despite the dark warning in his speech, she felt no fear. "I remember now," Sarah said slowly, approaching the bed but keeping an arm's length from the edge. "I dreamed that you needed me."
"That's ridiculous."
"I saw an owl, its breast stained bright with blood..." she spoke as if she were in a trance. Her hazel eyes were focused on something far away. "It was you."
"A nightmare, nothing more." A light sheen of sweat beaded on Jareth's forehead now. "I wish you and your childish whims were back Aboveground and out of my kingdom."
"I came to help you."
"And I," replied the Goblin King angrily, "Do not need help. Even if I did, you are the very last person I would ask."
"Hoggle and Sir Didymus thought I could help!"
"Your two friends, while well-meaning, have the combined intelligence of moldy bread and even more questionable judgement." said Jareth through gritted teeth. "Not the least of which is demonstrated by what dubious company they choose to keep."
He sat up and grimaced, thrusting the covers aside and advancing on Sarah. Clad in loose silk only a shade or two paler than his skin, he almost shimmered under the light of the stars.
"And furthermore," he continued, "I thought I made it clear your interference was not welcome. Your wanton destruction of my Labyrinth is one thing, but since your return, things have only worsened. This damned thorn-vine of Hoggle's has climbed its way to my tower window and it's tearing the castle apart stone by stone. Not a single bud or bloom remains of any flower in the Underground, the wells are turning to poison. I can feel the far corners of my kingdom slowly dying and there's nothing I can do."
"No, I--"
"This," Jareth clenched his fist in her face, growling low and harsh. "This is entirely your doing, witch."
"I'm not a witch." her face was white in the starlight, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn't do this. I couldn't have."
"'I couldn't have!'" The Goblin King mocked her in a voice eeriely like her own. "Still the same old Sarah, nothing is ever your fault or your responsibility. You wanted the child, and you got your brother back, though you little deserved him. You wanted me defeated and broken, and you've gotten your wish. Only if I go, the Labyrinth goes. And you didn't think of that, did you?"
"I never wanted--"
"You want to return home, Sarah? Then wish it, it is within your power. Wish it and begone from this place forever. Go back to your classes and your books. Forget about your foolish friends and the doom you've visited upon them."
Jareth looked as if he wanted to continue, but he had to stop and wrap both arms around his mid-section, breathing hard. After a long moment, he looked up, teeth bared in a wolfish smile.
"Go on, Sarah. Make your wish."
Sarah blinked back tears. "I wish..." She paused and drew a shuddering breath. "I wish... you'd go back to where you came from." she said softly.
Jareth straightened grimly. To Sarah's horror, blood began to seep from his side, a starburst of crimson against the white silk of his shirt. His eyes were dark with pain and confusion. "What... have... you... done?"
He moved toward Sarah, hand outstretched, but froze in mid-step as if his very breath strangled him where he stood.
"You stupid, stupid girl." he choked out.
Without another word, he turned and walked quickly to a wide arched window and flung himself out into the starry night. Snowy wings beat the air, spattering droplets of blood on the stone, and one last despairing cry tore through the silence.
And then he was gone.
Hoggle groaned and knuckled his aching back. "Goblin hospitality, my foot."
To be fair, the goblins had been very hospitable. They'd welcomed Hoggle and Sir Didymus with a hearty meal of bread and goblin cheese (which Hoggle feared wasn't made out of any sort of milk he knew), and then broke open a cask of something they called rhum, a fizzy, fruity drink with a kick like a fairy mule. After that, Hoggle didn't remember much, but he woke up on the floor of the throne room with a reluctant chicken as his pillow and a goblin helmet lodged under his spine. Sir Didymus was nowhere to be seen.
He clambered over piles of snoring goblins to the kitchens, where the knight was breakfasting on more goblin cheese and watered-down rhum. The previous night's celebration affected him not at all.
"Good morning and well-met, my friend!" called Sir Didymus cheerfully. "Didst thou sleep well?"
"I slept, but not at all well." replied Hoggle sourly. "Is there anything else to eat besides that wretched cheese?"
"I'm afraid not. But there's plenty to go around."
"That's what I was afraid of."
"Oh, it's an acquired taste, indeed." Sir Didymus gestured with an malodorous wedge. "But it seems to go well with the rhum. The goblins are awfully fond of it."
"So I've noticed. It explains a--"
The two companions were interrupted by a thunderous crash that shook the very foundations of the castle. Sir Didymus was knocked off his chair, his plate and mug went flying. Hoggle clutched the heavy kitchen table for dear life and wondered if it would make an adequate protection against falling chunks of rock, but before he could crawl beneath it, everything went still again.
"What in all seven hells was that?"
Hoggle wasn't sure what shocked him more, the ground shaking or Sir Didymus cursing. He went to the kitchen door and poked his head out cautiously.
"Whatever it is, it's done with for now. It sure woke up the goblins, though."
Outside, their goblin hosts were screeching and running around like wild things. Hoggle and Sir Didymus watched curiously until they both remembered.
"Sarah!"
Feeling ill and shaky, Sarah was already dressed and stumbling out of her room by the time her friends found her. The bedchamber had laid out a curious, but not unappealing outfit for her, and to Sarah's relief, it wasn't a ballgown. Perfectly ordinary jeans and a loose-fitting pale blue top had been laid out, with lace-up leather shoes. She pulled them on now as Hoggle rushed toward her.
"Sarah! Thank the gods, you're all right."
Hoggle looked shaken, his clothing rumpled and smelling faintly of... Sarah wasn't sure what, but she reminded herself that she was grateful for her room after all. Relying on goblin hospitality didn't seem like a fun alternative.
"What happened? I heard a noise like a dozen cannons going off all at once."
Sir Didymus caught up, panting hard. "The... tower, my lady. The goblins have just told me. The King's tower has collapsed."
"How could this happen?"
The carved wooden doors to Jareth's tower now opened onto a pile of rubble entangled with thorny vine. Everywhere Sarah looked, she saw broken stone and goblins picking through it, murmuring dazedly. Books were everywhere, their torn pages littering the debris. She reached for the corner of a crumpled map wedged between two stones, but pulled back with a sharp cry. Blood pearled on the tip of her finger from a shard of shattered crystal.
"Sarah! Be careful." Hoggle was at her side, offering a handkerchief. "There's no telling what he kept up in this tower and what it might do."
But Sarah knelt again and seized the map, clutching it to her and smearing it with blood. "I'm all right, Hoggle. I just... I have to look."
"His Majesty was fond of maps," said Sir Didymus, his tail drooping with grief. "We had many a fine chat about the Labyrinth and all its delights. He never tired of the subject."
"You don't think... He can't be dead." Sarah stood numbed, letting Hoggle bandage her finger.
Hoggle's reply was rough with emotion. "I don't see how not, if he was in all this mess. Nothing could survive this."
"He's not dead." Sarah stumbled away from her friends, picking over the piles of rock until she came to a mound of splintered wood and shredded white silk. "He wasn't here when this happened, I know he wasn't." She picked up a stone with both hands and hurled it away behind her, then reached for another.
"My lady..." Sir Didymus hesitated. "The events of the morning have taken a toll on thee. Thou art still in recovery and perhaps we should take our leave of this place..."
Sarah continued as if she hadn't heard, digging through the stones. "He's alive. Don't ask me how I know it. I just do."
"Sarah," Hoggle was gentle as he touched her arm, looking fearfully at the debris of the fallen tower. "If Jareth's still alive, then where is he?"
She sat back on her heels, holding up what she'd found. A single owl feather, mottled brown and white. Sarah was pale as milk and her hand shook as she let the wind take the feather and carry it away. Her reply, when it came, was so quiet that it, too, was almost stolen by the wind.
"He's gone back to where he came from. Oh... What have I done?"
A/N: And here now I'm a tiny bit stuck. Oh, the story will continue--no fear of that-- but I'm not sure when the next update will be, because I've barely started it and I don't like what I have so far. I'll continue to work at it, usually these things just take time to come unstuck.
Comments/reviews welcome, particularly if you wish to comment on the temporary writer's block.