Author's Note: I enjoyed reading all your comments, and some (like Water Spirit's, "Jareth and Sarah should just freaking eat that sexual tension. They'd never go hungry again.") made me laugh out loud. Heist, thank you for your kind words. I do rather like dramatic pauses, and it shows. LadyRhiyana, I have read The Silver Chair, but it's been a while and I had forgotten about that scene--as wonderful as it was. I'm fond of slipping in many other references to my favorite books, but the similarities there were unintentional. It's still neat though. Water Spirit, to answer your question about why the Silverwood is so far from the Labyrinth if it is the Labyrinth's origin, I can't really say. There could be several reasons, but I'm reluctant to go into detail here in case it comes up later and I change my mind. Calling it an arbitrary placement is accurate enough. QueenOfHearts3, thanks for your comments. Sir Didymus and his lost love may come up in other stories, but I don't think more will be said about it in this one. It's nice to think he didn't spend his whole life guarding a bridge by the Bog of Stench, though. As for the reins, that was my slip. I don't actually know anything about horses or their gear, aside from what I've read in books. But it makes sense that Sarah would still need something to hold on to even if they didn't actually serve a purpose in guiding Rumor. Oh, and the last scene? I don't think it's what you think it is...

Midnight Lady, thank you for the reminder about the Labyrinth's surrounding territory. The slight change of scenery was a deliberate decision on my part, based on the loophole that she was leaving the Labyrinth from a different path than the one she entered in the movie. But you're right, there should be a desert wasteland mentioned there, and I will edit a very small addition to Chapter Six, the section where she is looking at places on the map. You're also correct to note the lack of creatures. I'd written a short scene with one in the previous chapter, (after her conversation with Hoggle through the mirror) but unfortunately, it ended up on the cutting room floor in the final revision. I deleted it from my files, but if there is enough interest I will rewrite it and edit it back in. It's fairly short, as I don't like messing around too much with added characters. Readers can drop me a comment if they want to see it.

Anonymous reviews are now enabled. Without further ado...

Chapter Ten: Wander the Wood

My love, I come...

"What is this?" asked Sarah in a whisper. "What am I seeing?"

The other-Sarah was walking swiftly a white hallway, her hair streaming out behind her like a banner. A pale blue light shone from one end, and before it stood a tall, dark-haired man, his face in shadow. My Queen... He beckoned to her, and on his finger was a ring of dull metal with a tiny ivory skull set in it. The other-Sarah stepped toward him, hand outstretched and a smile curving on her beautiful lips. Around the two, the air grew colder, the shadows darker. When the man spoke, it was the barest whisper and it carried a breath of winter that escaped his pale lips in a ghostly cloud. My immortal beloved...

There was something horribly wrong about this scene. Try as she might, Sarah could not make out the man's face, but his nearness to the other-Sarah chilled her to the bone. If he touched her, embraced her...

"No!" cried Sarah, "Don't!"

She leaned in closer, but the hoof of a horse landed squarely in the reflection, scattering it in a hundred silvery water droplets. Dazed, Sarah looked up. Rumor stood casually by her side, drinking deeply from the river and ignoring her rider completely. But somehow, she knew the mare's interference was no accident. Pulling herself up by the stirrup, Sarah eased back onto dry land, still cradling her hurt hand.

"I don't understand." she said, shivering in the growing dark. "That was me... but it wasn't me at all."

Trying to shake off her uneasiness, Sarah tore strips of cloth from her cloak and bandaged her hand as well as she could, smearing it with a healing ointment Hoggle packed. It smelled like mint and rosemary, and she prayed that it wouldn't prove to be as dangerous as his toxic tea.

Starting a fire with one wounded hand was even trickier, but Sarah kept at it stubbornly, needing the warmth and light. Caught in a small patch of land between the firethorn and the forest with its ghostly trees, the night didn't seem so friendly this time. Sarah sat as close to the bright flames as she dared, and after a while, Rumor gracefully folded her knees and lay down beside her rider. Curling up with her back against the mare's side, Sarah closed her eyes and thought about the vision in the water.

Something about it was familiar, and yet she had never been in such a place, never worn that dress or the jeweled crown. Neither did she know the man in the vision, she only knew that he awoke in her a sense of deep foreboding. His voice was hollow as a tomb, and even with the heat from the fire on her face, Sarah shivered again remembering it. My Queen...

But it could not be. She was ruler of nothing, and no one's queen.

The next morning, Sarah found herself lingering over the campsite, checking and re-checking to make sure the fire was completely out, tidying away the remains of breakfast and packing up her things. And always, she kept one eye looking over her shoulder, to the forest. The Silverwood, Sarah remembered. Back when it was just a name on a map, I thought it sounded like a beautiful place. Now that she was face to face with it she felt something more like dread...

Ordinarily, she loved the woods. On weekends before she left for college, Sarah used to ignore her step-mother's protests about safety and hike alone in nearby parks, walking for miles accompanied only by her thoughts. But this was a different sort of wood. The trees seemed ancient and secretive, with branches that blocked out the sunlight. With trunks tall and straight as the mast of a ship, their widespread boughs had leaves that were a curious fan-shape, lifting faces of deepest jade to the sun with pale undersides the color of a waning moon. When the wind blew, they all trembled, sending ripples of green and silver and making the trees appear to writhe and shiver like a live thing. She would have to walk beneath those branches, leaving the golden morning behind to wander the murky shadows of the Silverwood. And right now, she would swear that something was looking back at her from those very shadows.

Rumor gave her a hard nudge in the back to interrupt her reverie, then stood impatiently while Sarah saddled her. The mare did not seem the least bit frightened, only restless and eager to be off. Sarah slipped out Sir Didymus' mirror and warmed it in her hand. She called Hoggle's name, then Sir Didymus. Nothing happened. Biting her lip, she stowed it away for safekeeping. If something happens to me there, they'd never know. I might never return. But I can't go back alone. As if she could hear her rider's thoughts, Rumor nuzzled Sarah's shoulder gently. The saddlebags packed, Sarah again hesitated. The Goblin King was there, she felt sure of it. She climbed in the saddle and steeled herself as Rumor carried them both closer, first into the dappled sunlight at the edge of the woods, then the darkness. Jareth is here, she reminded herself. And he does need me, whatever he might say.

Sarah could almost feel the shadows swallow them both, and her last thought before leaving the sunlight entirely was, But he may not be the only thing hidden in the Silverwood.

He had flown all through the night, hearing no sounds but the rush of his own tired wings and the keening of the wind. Now the morning sun glinted off the waters of the Merandanon, and illuminated the frightening expanse of Firethorn valley beneath him. He'd come across it at dawn, when the pale gold light seemed to touch each thorn with a ring of flame, and the wind blowing through it sounded like the quiet gnashing of many tiny teeth. Every breath pained him now, his shoulders and chest on fire. Jareth let the wind carry him as much as it could, and hoped it did not desert him. If I must land, let it not be among the firethorn, he thought feverishly. It was a place he did not go even in his full power, but in his owl form... There would be nothing left to find but bones held together by scraps of skin and feathers, impaled on a firethorn bush. Then again, if it came to that, there would be no one left to find him at all.

Just a little while longer...

It was there, just ahead, a vast expanse of green that sprang up as if out of nowhere. The Merandanon plunged into it and disappeared, hidden by the thick canopy of leaves. His remaining strength allowed him to soar just above the treetops, which he soon regretted. The cool, damp air rising from below misted his feathers and made them heavier. He beat his wings fiercely, trying to rise higher, but only succeeded in gaining a few feet.

And then as suddenly as it had seized hold of him, the wishspell was gone.

Its disappearance was startling and abrupt, like the wind had fallen from beneath his wings. Relief flooded Jareth's body. He was free! But he soon found it wasn't entirely a blessing. Without the compulsion forcing him steadily onward, weariness overcame him and once again, he could feel his owl form leaving him. Finding an opening in the treetops, he dropped down, slowly at first, but with dangerously increasing speed. Isn't it ironic, he mused cynically. Freed at last, only to come to this...

If anyone had been there to witness it, they would have seen a very curious sight. A great white bird tumbling out of the sky without sound, bursting through the canopy of leaves and clawing the air as it fell. Wings became fingers, limbs... ghostly plumage turned to silver-blond hair and white clothing over a slender form that fluttered as he fell, eyes still turned despairingly skyward. Still with no sound, nor a single cry, the figure plunged into the darkly silver depths of the Merandanon with curiously little splash.

It did not surface again.

It was quiet beneath the trees. Not even the river made a noise, the waters slipped soundlessly over glistening, moss-covered rocks, illuminated by a pale grey light that filtered through the leaves overhead. The forest floor was lined with fallen leaves that gave off a pleasantly damp, earthy scent that increased with every careful step Rumor took. The mare showed no alarm, but was watchful, and so was Sarah. She peered into the dim hush of the forest, trying to make out the path ahead. But the path, like the river, had so many twists and turns that she could see nothing but trees and more trees. There was no sign that the Goblin King had passed this way, and a faint sense of doubt crept into Sarah's thoughts. She had not forgotten the anger and pain etched on his face at their last meeting. If he was here, waiting... He might be angry still.

To take her mind off her grim thoughts, Sarah once more took out the map. There was plenty of space left, but the Goblin King had left it curiously empty; The Merandanon ran to the very edge of the Silverwood, and then nothing more. Why? she wondered. Not because he didn't know what was there, Sarah knew. He'd left it incomplete for a purpose. Jareth's relaxed hand was now familiar to her eyes, and she thought she could picture him sitting in his study before the fire, head bent over the map, a slender hand smoothing out the paper as he wrote. Sarah blinked irritably. Her imagination was running away with her again, she would not think of such ridiculous things. Giving the map an annoyed shake, she looked closer. Even the handwriting had changed. The name of the forest was written in darker ink, as if someone had pressed the quill too hard to the paper. Even the letters were cramped and tense. Something had unnerved him, and it troubled her.

Far behind them, a branch snapped. Sarah jerked around in the saddle, but saw nothing. The woods looked the same as ever, but a trickle of cold sweat ran down her neck. She could feel something behind them, closing in on them quietly like a shadow. Rumor lifted her ears, alert and scanning the trees. Her pace quickened almost imperceptibly. Then another branch snapped even closer, as if something large and ponderous was making its way toward them and picking up speed as it approached. Rumor did not hesitate. Tucking her head down, she sprang into a dead run, leaving Sarah little choice but to bend low over the mare's neck to avoid the tree branches that whipped past her head. Rumor wheeled and twisted through the dense woods, leaping fallen trees with grace and speed, but still keeping the river within sight. Whatever was following them was closer, and still she could see nothing. Sarah's heart clenched in fear, but she had no breath to scream. Instead, she wound both her hands into Rumor's mane and closed her eyes to the dizzying blur of the river and trees as they sped past.

The map was forgotten, and it drifted from her hand like a leaf, spinning in the wind until the river caught and whirled it away.

Comments/reviews welcome.