Author's Note: Hmmm. Well, if the previous chapter caused some anxiety and tears(!), I'm afraid this one isn't going to make people feel much better, at least not for the time being. In fact, the next few chapters may be a bit rough.

MidnightLady, thank you for your kind words. It's funny you should say that about Hoggle and Toby. A minor quibble I sometimes have with many stories is that they sound too dumb for my tastes... particularly Hoggle, who sometimes ends up being portrayed as little better than a simpleton. Neither of them really appear that way to me, not even Toby as a five year old. I also hate writing baby-talk (or Ludo-talk, for that matter), so I've avoided it in great part for my own sensibilities. But I appreciate the feedback and I'll keep an eye on that.

LadyRhiyana, great imagery re: Jareth, and exactly what I imagine, too. I also like the idea that Sir Didymus has a past we don't know about. He is flighty at times and maybe a little fixated upon heroic deeds, so people tend to underestimate him.

QueenOfHearts3, I like that you review each chapter. It's nice to get that immediate (and specific!) feedback for what you write. That was indeed the introductory paragraph or three that was giving me trouble. The first rough draft was somewhat similar, but lacked enough depth of feeling and connection between what happened to Jareth and Sarah's decision to look for him. I needed to add more of that in, but it took me a while to sit back and realize what was missing.

Oh, and to clear up the issue of Underground food, not all of it is poisonous to Sarah. But judging from her reaction to Hoggle's tea, there are some things which are not deadly to him and Sir Didymus that wasn't so harmless for her. My apologies for the confusion, in hindsight, that could've been written a little more clearly.

Chapter Nine: The Chase

It was all Sarah could do to bend low over her mount's neck, the reins dangling loosely from her hands as the let the mare set her own speed. Lessons were never like this. A docile walk, maybe a lively trot was all she had done. Rumor didn't run, she flew, the passing trees and the walls of the Labyrinth a blur beside them. Surely no horse Aboveground could travel at such a speed, and maybe it was just as well. Stay in the saddle, Williams, Sarah said to herself. Just stay in the saddle. Rumor will do the rest.

The road leading further away from the castle and its gardens wound through sparse woods, and in the distance Sarah thought she could see small goblin villages with smoke rising from crooked chimneys. Even the trees were choked with thorn-vine, bent like wizened old men cloaked in its crimson flowers and twining around the fallen trunks until they were completely hidden. Here, their fragrance was sweet and overpowering, and Sarah clutched at the pommel of her saddle, suddenly dizzy. Rumor seemed to sense her unsteadiness, but only quickened her pace until they were away from the wood and in the open air where the green hills cradled a rushing river. She did not dare consult the map that was carefully folded and tucked in her shirt, lest she lose her grip and break her neck, but Sarah felt sure it could only be the river Merandanon that flowed to the heart of the Silverwood.

They rode for hours, and the sun began to sink low in the sky, setting it afire in reds and golds. Rumor had begun to tire, her footing unsteady, and now there was no path for Sarah to follow except the river. Finally halting in a copse of trees by the water, Sarah nearly fell from Rumor's back in fatigue, her legs aching and unable to hold her. After a brief rest, she unsaddled her mount and gave her a brisk rub-down. Rumor grazed quietly at a distance while her rider set up a temporary camp.

Although hungry, Sarah was too tired to build a fire. She half-heartedly ate the bread Hoggle had packed. Afterwards, she bathed face and hands in the river, shivering as the icy water hit her skin. It was not yet twilight and the air was cool, a breeze blowing back a few strands that had worked themselves loose from her ponytail. Sarah gazed far downriver, wondering how much futher she would have to go.

And then she saw it.

It wasn't much, just a flash of white wings rising out of the trees that caught the sun's last dying rays. Fatigue forgotten, she leapt to her feet and cried out, but it did not stop. Its flight was awkward and slow, with none of the grace she'd remembered. Rumor had seen it too, the mare was alert again and her ears were perked forward as if to listen for her master's call. They stood frozen like this for what seemed like an eternity, horse and girl silhouetted against the fading light. Soon it was too dark to see its wounded flight, and something in her heart ached. The mare nuzzled her comfortingly, and she twined her hands in the horse's mane.

"We're so close, Rumor. He's not going as fast as he could."

Sarah tried not to think about why, instead wrapping herself in a heavy cloak and settling on the grass with her pack as a pillow. Overhead, the trees swayed in the wind like dancers, and the night sky filled with stars. Sarah thought of the Goblin King's ruined tower, and its crystal ceiling. Tonight she would sleep as Jareth had for many nights, under the dome of the heavens. Rumor carefully sidled close, as if to comfort her rider. Sarah curled on her side and cradled a damp cheek in the curve of her arm. A night wind was blowing in off the river, carrying the sweet scent of grass and clover, water and starlight. Far away, an owl's cry echoed through the night, and Rumor nickered softly as she stood watch over the girl.

"We'll find him." Sarah whispered.

He dreamed. The river had become an ocean roaring in his skull like thunder, and somewhere in the background a clock ticked away each relentless second. His thirst was great, and the sound of the water drove him mad, waves lapping just beyond his reach. He reached for it to no avail, only to have one wave larger than the rest sweep over him, filling his eyes and mouth with water until he thought he would drown. Jareth closed his eyes and prepared to die. But his last breath was not of water, but rather musty air, reeking of the grave. He opened his eyes and he was back in the Halls of the Dead, his throat in the grip of its iron-crowned king. The King of the Dead drew his great blade, which made a harsh rasping sound like steel over glass.

"All men die, Goblin King." he whispered, his breath like frost on Jareth's cheek. "And I always claim what is mine."

The blade thrust home, and Jareth gasped. First it froze like a shard of ice in his side, then it burned like someone pressed a hot iron to his skin. He twisted and screamed, and the King released him. He fell for what seemed like an eternity...

Jareth woke, puzzled at first to find himself on the riverbank covered in mud with bloody weals criss-crossing his arms and shoulders. His side throbbed painfully, and something hammered away in his head like a drum, becoming louder with each passing second. And then he remembered. The Tower... Sarah. The wishpell swept over him with a hunger that made him dizzy, forcing him upright even though his limbs protested.

Jareth fought it long enough to gulp down water from the river, sluicing some over his face and shoulders so its iciness stung his open cuts, and then he was dragged to his feet. His owl form came to him quickly before he even knew what was happening, and the evening air ruffled the downy feathers beneath his wings. Release me, damn you! He raged to the empty air. But there was no one to hear, and the wind seized him up like a leaf and whirled his battered body away. He would again fly all night, he knew. He would fly until he fell from exhaustion as the wishspell drove him, a fierce compulsion he could not deny.

Don't defy me, Jareth...

The sun was blood-red and sunken in a sky of flame as it waited to be swallowed whole by the night. The day was dying.

And so was he.

The next day dawned cool and clear, and Sarah was up and away before the sun began its journey across the sky. Her whole body felt like one giant bruise, leg and back muscles unaccustomed such strenuous exercise. Although Rumor's strides were as smooth as the mare could make them, Sarah still felt each jolt in the road. Shifting in the saddle did little good, and on their infrequent breaks, she stretched her stiff legs and wished Hoggle had thought to pack something for sore muscles.

They raced along the banks of the Merandanon now, and before the sun was high, they reached the spot where Sarah had been sure she'd seen the Goblin King the evening before. The trees grew more thickly along the water here, but leaves and freshly broken branches littered the ground. Looking up, Sarah saw a shred of white silk caught on a branch, fluttering in the wind. She dismounted and Rumor took the lead, almost knocking Sarah over in her eagerness to reach the water's edge. There they found a spot on the riverbank where the grass had been trampled down. Sarah knelt down and pressed her hand to the turf, warmed from the sun. There was a dark copper-brown patch on it that she feared was blood, but didn't dare look closer to see.

"He was here, Rumor." her excitement was feverish, and she barely noticed the twinge of complaining muscles as she clambered back into the saddle. "The book was right, we know where he's going."

Rumor snorted, as if to say, Of course we do.

By noon, the landscape had changed. Trees gave way to open plain, green and gold grass tall enough to whip the tops of Sarah's shoes as they rode. When the wind blew through it, she could hear a thin, eerie wail, almost like singing. Rumor didn't like this, and kept as close to the river, where the grass was thin. When they stopped for a quick rest, the mare was careful to place herself between the girl and the edge of the high grass, and refused to leave her station even for a drink of water.

Sarah sat cross-legged on the riverbank, chewing on a piece of dried meat. She hadn't thought to ask Hoggle what animal it was from, and decided it was just as well she didn't know. Carefully taking Sir Didymus' mirror from its pouch, Sarah held it in her hand, unsure of what to do next. She breathed on its surface, wiping it with her sleeve, then propped it up against a river rock so it caught the fading day's light in the corner.

"Sir Didymus? Hoggle?"

Nothing happened for a long minute, then the mirror's surface clouded, and Hoggle's voice came through it as if from very far away. Slowly, his face came into view, peering nearsightedly through the glass.

"Sarah? Are you all right?"

"Yes." she replied in relief. "We're fine. Is Sir Didymus okay?"

"More than fine." groused Hoggle. "I should've left him in charge and come with you. This morning, he organized the goblins to start pulling and burning thorn-vine, then went to visit Ludo. He's so happy, it's like he's back in the king's army again."

Sarah hid a smile behind her hand. "That sounds very useful."

"I suppose. If only he could drill it into those wretched goblins' heads to stand upwind of the fires. The fumes from the thorn-vine is poisonous, too."

"Oh, no! Was anyone hurt?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Not really. Goblins are a sturdy lot, more so than your kind. I'd forgotten how fragile you humans could be when..." Hoggle coughed. "Well, they're a tough lot, anyway. The smoke made a few sick to their stomachs, but they'll get over it. I'm leaving the mess for Didymus to clean up when he gets back."

Sarah paused for a moment to contemplate the imagery of a castle full of vomiting goblins, then decided not to dwell on it.

"I saw him last night, Hoggle. We're on the right track, I just know it."

"Saw him?" The little man's voice sharpened. "Was he... himself?"

"Not exactly. He's hurt, Hoggle. I called out to him, and I don't know if he heard me. But he didn't stop."

"He can't stop, Sarah." said Hoggle gently. "He won't be able to until he reaches the Silverwood."

Sarah put the dried meat away, her appetite gone. "Hoggle," she began, "What if traveling like that kills him? I found blood on the ground where he rested yesterday, a lot of it. I don't know how long a person can live--"

"Best not to think about it. If he's injured, then no one can say what will happen." the dwarf replied heavily. "But he's tougher than you think, too."

Sarah hoped so. She started to speak again, but Hoggle's face began to fade.

"Sarah! I can't see your face. Before this thing quits working, tell me where you are!"

"Near the Merandanon river, Hoggle. The map says we'll soon come to Firethorn valley and--"

"You watch yourself." said the little man, his voice growing fainter. "Don't try to go through the valley, those thorns will tear--"

And then Hoggle was gone, and the mirror's surface was an ordinary mirror again.

Sarah had little time to contemplate Hoggle's dire warning about Firethorn valley, for soon the plains abruptly dropped away and the land was little more than bare rock and scrub. Even the river was more subdued here. Its path dwindled to a shallow, sluggish flow that brought horse and rider gently sloping downhill until they met with an expanse of thorny bush that stretched on for miles on either side. In the distance, Sarah could see where the bushes ended and the Silverwood began. Dismounting, she got as close as she dared. The firethorn shrubs were thickly clustered, with malevolent red thorns each as long as her hand and dagger-sharp.

"It's no good, Rumor. Hoggle was right, we can't go through this or we'll be torn to pieces."

Rumor stood and looked back at her, waiting. Sarah sighed. There was no help for it, the only way clear through was the river itself.

Wrapping her mount's reins around her fist several times, Sarah took a deep breath and stepped in, with Rumor delicately walking behind her. Here, the Merandanon was shallow enough that the water didn't go over Sarah's waist in the deepest part, but she didn't dare climb on Rumor's back. The bottom was treacherous with slippery rock, so they picked their way gingerly downriver, keeping far from the sides of the riverbank where the firethorn grew. It was strangely quiet in the valley, no bird sang and nothing crept about in the underbrush. Sarah saw the occasional flash of a silver in the water as fish darted away from her path, but the only noise was the methodical splash of Rumor's legs churning the water.

It took them several hours to cross, and by the end of the valley, both horse and girl were shivering with cold and the light was growing dim. Sarah was eager to be through, fearing to be caught in the valley after dark. When the last of the firethorn was past, Sarah stumbled over to the riverbank to haul herself out. Her feet were numb, and she stumbled, hand outstretched. As she hit the ground, something sharp pierced her palm and she cried out.

It was not as long as some of the thorns she'd seen earlier, but it was still wickedly sharp and the thorn had gone deep. Looking at it made her feel faintly ill, but she grasped one end and pulled it out. Like the sword in the stone, Sarah thought, giddy with relief. But her hand was beginning to itch and burn, and blood welled up from the wound. Hobbling over to the river, she immersed it in the current. Sarah dreamily watched the water as it rippled over her hand, carrying away the blood in dark swirls of crimson.

The sun was slipping over the horizon. The water felt icy on her fevered hand, but if she could just leave it in there a little longer... Sarah blinked. There was something odd about her reflection. She held still until the surface of the river calmed. Yes, she could see herself, but not as she was... A grave, unsmiling Sarah looked back at her, hair tumbling loose over her shoulders and gowned all in white. On her forehead shone a blue jewel, and it sparked with an otherworldly light as the other-Sarah tilted her head, as if listening to someone calling. The other-Sarah turned, words forming on her lips. My love, I come...

Not really a cliff-hanger ending this time, this chapter was kind of quiet. Don't worry, we get back to Jareth soon, very soon...

Comments/reviews welcome.