Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for their patience, and for the comments, both hilarious and inspiring. If you like what you've read, please do drop me a note. Even if you think you don't have anything profound to say, I always want to hear what people liked-- or didn't like, as the case may be. So many (well, not so very many) people have added this to alerts, favorite stories, etc. without really mentioning why. I end up wondering who you all are and what made you do it.
Chapter Fourteen: I Would Be Your Slave
Not knowing what to do, Sarah dabbed at the blood with a corner of her handkerchief. Jareth had not moved since he last spoke. This frightened her, even more than seeing him lying on the floor, cold as ice. He was awake but did not hear, his eyes were open, but they gazed blindly into the distance. Sarah did not know how to feel. Once, she might have been glad to see him like this, but it wasn't the way she thought it would be. All of that seemed like a very long time ago now.
She swallowed hard and crumpled the handkerchief in her hand. Ever since she'd set out to find him, that look of anger and betrayal haunted her every waking thought. She didn't care for him, of that much she was certain. But somehow, Sarah could not bear the thought that he was in the world and thinking ill of her...
Her gaze drifted back to the fair-haired man lying on the bed. Despite his constant barbs and cold silences, at least the Goblin King been there, solid and reassuringly real. Now, sitting in a chair beside the bed, she'd never felt more alone.
Sarah spoke to his recumbent form. "I wish you were better. I wish you were back to yourself again."
Nothing happened, and the Goblin King still drew one slow, shallow breath after another. Sarah put her head down on her hands and wept. It wasn't that easy, Hoggle had told her. Wishes couldn't be so readily undone, and not everything was gotten simply by wishing it.
"Please... Tell me what to do," she appealed softly.
No answer came. Fearing that his breathing had stopped, Sarah laid a hand on his chest, his bare flesh burning like a brand against her palm. This brought him back as nothing else had, and the pale blue eyes swam abruptly into painful focus. Quicker than she thought possible, a gloved hand seized her by the wrist, holding her away from his fevered skin.
"Don't... touch me." he said roughly. A shudder ran through his body and he released her, arm falling limply back on the bed.
Sarah rubbed her wrist, aching where his fingers had gripped it. I will not cry, I will not cry, she swore, furiously blinking back tears.
"Nothing can be done." The Goblin King closed his eyes. "I have failed. The Labyrinth will die."
"No!" she cried. "I don't believe that. This can't be the end."
"Ah, Sarah." Jareth sighed, and his breath faded away to the barest murmur. "This isn't one of your fairytales. There is no happy ending."
"I don't believe in fairytales anymore." she said, both sad and angry at the same time. "I only believe in the fate we make for ourselves."
At this, the Goblin King gave a dry cough that might have been a laugh.
"How you've changed, my Sarah..."
Sarah held her breath. "What did you call me?"
But he was gone again, dreaming with his eyes open. She could feel the heat radiating off his slender body, and now his hair clung damply to his forehead. Water, she thought. He needs water. She grabbed the copper kettle and opened the cottage door, letting in a howling swirl of wind in. Rain poured off the eaves, sluicing over the moss like a silver stream, and it was this she collected. In the clearing, the pool roiled as the storm swept across it, like a boiling cauldron, and even the largest silverwoods swayed and shuddered in the wind.
She brought a cup of water and held it to his lips, but he turned away.
"Drink." she insisted. "You're burning up."
Obediently, he drank, water slipping past the sides of his mouth and trickling down his neck. It tasted of spring. How easily she commanded him now, thought the Goblin King. Just as easily as her name rolled off his tongue without him meaning to speak it at all. He had gone so long without saying her name even in his mind that it was as if a dam inside him had burst. A sorceress like no other... The dark veil of her hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned over him, her lips forming words he couldn't quite hear.
"I won't let you die."
Sarah turned from the bed and dug in her pack until she found Sir Didymus' mirror. Holding it up to the firelight, she gripped it with both hands and willed it to work with all her might.
"Hoggle," she called, "I need you!"
The dwarf sat at the head of a long table in the dining hall. The plate before him was untouched, and he quietly shredded the crust of his bread and scattered it on the table. Sir Didymus sat with him in gloomy silence, listening to the rain fall.
"I don't know what I'll say to Sarah." Hoggle said, pushing his plate away. "It will break her heart."
His eyes dull and fur matted, Sir Didymus at first appeared not to hear him. Then the little knight stirred and sighed. "There was no nobler beast in all the land."
The dwarf eyed his friend worriedly. Didymus had said little since Ludo's death, and he could see the little knight sinking deeper into dejection. Hoggle tried to think of something more to say when a summons like a silver bell cut through the rumble of thunder. His grizzled eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Sarah!"
The little man fumbled at the pouch at his belt and pulled out the mirror. Sarah's face peered out anxiously, and Hoggle was shocked at how exhausted she looked. When she spoke, she sounded far away.
"Hoggle, Sir Didymus. I need your help."
Sir Didymus was at his side in a moment, jostling for a view. "Anything, my lady!"
"I've found him." Sarah took a deep breath. "But we can't come back. Something's wrong with him, Hoggle. I don't know if he's going to make it."
Hoggle sucked in his breath. The King and the kingdom are one, Didymus had reminded him. They are bonded. One cannot survive without the other.
"He has to. Things are... not going well here, Sarah." If Jareth dies, we all die. He couldn't bring himself to mention Ludo just yet. "The storm's trapped us inside the castle, I'm not sure we can help you."
"You still can," said Sarah quickly. "I need you to tell me how to bring down a fever."
"A fever?" Hoggle was puzzled. "Jareth has never been ill. I didn't think it was possible..."
"All things are possible in these dark times." said Sir Didymus. "My lady, can he speak?"
Sarah looked behind her anxiously. "A little. But he doesn't seem to be awake all of the time."
"Water." said Hoggle. "Get him to drink as much as he can, and keep him as cool as you can. There's some willow bark in the saddlebags for tea, you can try that. I'm not sure if anything else can be done."
Sarah's face was fading quickly. "Thank you, Hoggle. I'll come back to you as soon as I can, I promise..."
The mirror surface cleared, and the dwarf slumped in his chair, defeated. "That's it, Didymus. It's over."
"Not yet." Sir Didymus bristled with determination. "There is still hope."
"Hope for what? Jareth is dying, and you know what that means. It's only a matter of time."
"She still has time." insisted Didymus. "Did you see my lady's eyes? She cares for him."
"Cares for who?" Hoggle asked perplexedly. He scratched his head. "You can't be serious!"
"Verily, my friend, I have never been more serious in my life. "
Hoggle shook his head doubtfully. "I don't see what difference that makes."
"All the difference in the world." A bright gleam returned to the little knight's eyes. "She will save him, and save us all. It is just as I've said, my lady is a powerful enchantress."
"Not that again!" exclaimed Hoggle. "You heard what she said the first time, she's got no magical powers. That was so embarrassing..."
"On the contrary, your Acting-Majesty," said Sir Didymus primly, "She had the power to return to us in our hour of need, did she not? Perhaps my lady does not have the magic like His Majesty does, but I'll warrant she has a power all her own. She will discover what she needs to do, and it will come to her very soon."
Hoggle groaned. "You're doing it again. Speaking complete nonsense and never explaining a single thing."
But Sir Didymus was already scurrying from the room. Without stopping, he called back over his shoulder at the dwarf.
"Mark my words, friend Hoggle. Our fair maiden will not give up on him. And we should not give up on her."
She boiled water for the willow bark tea, glancing over to the bed in the corner every few minutes. The Goblin King had sunken into a restless sleep, and from time to time, he muttered things Sarah didn't understand. After his fierce insistence that she not touch him, she'd rummaged through the wardrobe for a pair of his gloves. They fit her like a second skin, and when she'd touched him again, the leather was so thin she could feel the rapid flutter of his pulse through it. Jareth shivered, but had not protested further.
In fact, he didn't seem aware of her presence at all. As Sarh watched, his fitful tossing grew more agitated, he lashed out and struck the wall. Another blow from his clenched fist splintered one of the bed posts. Finally, she grappled with him, trying in vain to restrain his frenzied thrashing, but it could not be done. The Goblin King's strength was supernatural as he twisted soundlessly out of her grasp again and again. Sarah was forced to use all her weight to pin him, sprawled out full length over his torso until their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel him through the thin silk of her shirt, and it was like standing too close to the fire.
"Stop it!" she cried desperately, "Don't fight me, Jareth."
At the sound of his name, he calmed. His eyes flew open, still unseeing.
"I will claim what is mine," he said in a guttural rasp, "You will not have her."
Sarah relaxed her grip in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
The Goblin King's eyes snapped shut, his entire body going limp. Shaken and relieved, Sarah eased herself off him. A sore spot on her ribs and another on her jaw where his flailing fist had struck her ached, and she knew she'd have more bruises to show for her pains. Limping to the hearth, she fetched a cup of the tea, still warm.
"Drink it," she told the unresisting Goblin King, "It will help with the fever."
He drank as obediently as before, strangely subdued and not even flinching from its bitter taste. One cup, then two were swallowed without complaint. Sarah allowed herself a wry smile. I told him he wouldn't have the strength to resist. She pulled the chair closer to the side of the bed. Now all she could do was watch... and wait.
Without knowing it, Sarah dozed. Her head fell forward until it rested on the Goblin King's pillow, and her hand crept out, fingers circling his upper arm in a gentle clasp. She slept, unmindful of the rain and the wind.
Holed up in the kitchen, Hoggle sat miserably near the fire trying to ignore the wind's keening lament through the chinks in the walls. The kitchen was the warmest place in the castle, but he feared that if the flood waters continued to rise it would become too wet to light the great fires.
"Curse this rain," he muttered bleakly. "First we're roasted alive, then we're drowned. You there!"
A nearby goblin squeaked in fright, but stopped at his call.
"Where is Sir Didymus? I haven't seen him for over an hour."
"I don't know, Acting-Majesty. He said something about inspecting the damage and left."
"Went outside?" Hoggle said incredulously. "He must be crazy! Who went with him?"
"No one." shrugged the goblin. "He went alone."
"Alone."
The dwarf did not like the sound of that. Ever since Sarah's summons, the little knight had been relentlessly optimistic, but refused to explain why. But to venture out in this storm... Hoggle shook his head. Didymus must be out of his furry little noggin. Damn me if I'm going to chase after him in this weather... There was only one small slit window in the kitchen for light, and Hoggle peered out into the storm.
Please, let him be all right.
Sir Didymus crept around the edge of the castle, his hat pulled low over his eyes. The rain was coming down in sheets so that he could hardly see, and the litte knight walked as close to the wall as he could so as not to get lost and wander off into the grounds. It was, perhaps, unchivalrous of him to leave without obtaining his Acting-Majesty's consent, but Didymus felt sure his friend would understand. With the occasional flash of lightning, he thought he could see it just ahead... there. The ruins of the King's tower.
He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed carefully. Although it was known that Sir Didymus' sense of smell was not as keen as he fondly believed, there was one thing he could detect unerringly: the scent of magic. It was there, he thought he could smell it even in the downpour. It had just been a hunch, of course, he couldn't be certain it had been left behind. On the morning of the tower's collapse, the odor of magic had hung too heavily around the rubble to make sense of of anything. But now...
The little knight picked cautiously over the rubble, following his nose. Everything that remained was sodden, and bits of parchment floated away as the rain washed over the stones. Didymus shook the rain from his fur and kept looking. He had to find it before it, too, washed away. At last he saw it, a glint of metal that threw back the lightning's spark. The little knight scrabbled at the rock until he could pull it free, a curious triangular gold and silver pendant with points that curved downward, hung on a leather thong.
Sir Didymus wrapped it carefully in a bit of cloth and tucked it into his belt for safekeeping. His Majesty would return, and all would be well. Satisfied that his duty had been done, Didymus began the tedious journey back to the safety of the castle, rain streaming from the brim of his hat. The cobblestones were slippery, and once or twice he lost his balance, but he could see the light from the kitchens in the distance. Sir Didymus quickened his step. There would be warmth, food, and maybe even a wee tot of rhum...
Then the little knight heard an ominous creaking that cut through the storm. Somewhere above him, a piece of roofing gave way and came crashing down, sending a wave of water that swept Sir Didymus off his feet. It carried him for quite a distance until he fetched up against an old, crumbling wall. He clawed at it only to have the stones give way without warning, sending him hurtling down a narrow tunnel that opened up suddenly into a deep, dark hole.
"Well... If it isn't you."
The words woke Sarah out of her slumber, and she sat up with a start. At first, she did not remember where she was, but the Goblin King stirred on the bed next to her. Her neck ached, and the wind still battered the little cottage. She did not know how she had slept through it all, and if anything, the storm had grown worse.
"It seems you are full of surprises, Sarah." Jareth said with grim amusement, although he was too weak to move. "You are always doing things I do not expect."
"You're awake." she said gladly, "I thought I'd lost you."
A strange expression crossed Jareth's face, but vanished so quickly it could've been a trick of the light. "Would that grieve you?"
"I--" Sarah wasn't sure what to say, so she told the truth. "Yes."
The silence stretched on uncomfortably until Sarah got up and laid another blanket on the bed just to have something to do with her hands. She looked out the window, lingering as long as possible. Pitch black with the rain driving against the glass, Sarah could see nothing. But she could hear the roaring of the storm through the forest, and the groaning of the silverwoods in the wind. The cottage stood firm and the fire cast its golden light across the floor, but they two were all alone in a howling abyss. Sarah leaned her forehead against the cold glass.
"It's like the end of the world."
"It is," said Jareth from the bed. "And it won't be long, Sarah. Are you certain you won't return to your own world? You cannot save this one."
Sarah turned quickly back to the room. "What does it matter? I am here, and I will stay. There is no power that can send me back now."
With those words, she felt a stab of regret. She would never see her father again, never see Toby. Karen would never fuss or hover anxiously over her. The last thought brought a sad smile to her lips. She just wished she knew how it would happen. Would they wake up Christmas morning to find her gone? Or would any trace of her vanish from their lives and memories like a wisp of smoke? It made her ache inside, thinking of the family she loved but who would not know to love her...
When Sarah wandered back from her grim reflections she found Jareth's gaze fixed upon her once more. He betrayed no emotion, but his regard was of such intensity that she found herself wanting to look away.
"That may not be entirely true," he said carefully. "You might still go home."
Wild hope flared up inside her, but she restrained it with caution. "At what price?"
"Still so suspicious," he admonished her, "After all this time. I could hardly harm you now, Sarah."
He gestured vaguely and Sarah saw it was true. Although the fever had broken, he was still drained of energy, with not even the strength to sit up.
"Maybe not." Sarah conceded. "But why would you do it? Why now?"
Jareth shrugged. "There is not much time left."
Sarah couldn't explain the disappointment she suddenly felt. She sat back down in her chair slowly, one leg tucked beneath her.
"You must have been dreaming earlier," she said at last, "You were talking in your sleep."
"Did I?" said Jareth casually, "I don't remember."
A great weariness came over him, and Jareth fought to stay awake. Sarah was playing at something again. He would have to be very wary, indeed.
"People say a lot of strange things when they're dreaming." Sarah thought of the drawing, tucked into a deep corner of the wardrobe, but she didn't dare confront him with it, not yet.
"Do you still dream, Sarah?"
The question caught her off guard, and she blushed without knowing why.
"Of course I do. I dreamed of the Labyrinth."
"And what did you see?"
Sarah did not want to answer. "It had... changed."
Jareth let out a slow, painful breath. "You saw the Labyrinth in ruins. My dreams are the same."
"Is that what will come?" asked Sarah.
Jareth flicked his eyes to the window. "It is already here."
"And do you still blame me for what's happened?" Sarah looked away, afraid to hear the answer.
"That silverwood outside." he nodded toward the door. "It has grown there since the dawn of time, and the storm has torn it out by the roots. Is it to blame for what's happened?"
His reply cut her to the quick. "You see me as a force of destruction." she said numbly.
The Goblin King laughed a little. His gaze seemed to devour her. "Yes, I do. I have known it would be so, since before you were born."
Sarah could not reply, the idea had stolen away her very breath.
"Our destiny is written for us in the wind and the water." said the Goblin King, his pale eyes locked with her own. "We may seek to alter its course, we might run from the truth... but in the end, it finds us. We can no more escape it than our own shadows."
"I don't believe that." Is that why you left this place? Sarah wondered silently. Did you abandon your home to try and escape your destiny? "If you know what your destiny is, you can change it."
"Our fates do not care what we do or not do believe, it simply is." Jareth laughed again, a little weaker this time. "You should guard your feelings more carefully, Sarah. Your face reveals your every thought. You want to know what fate I saw for myself and tried to escape, do you not?"
The Goblin King brushed his hand across his face, and Sarah saw that it shook, even though his voice remained steady.
"You were the fate I sought to escape." he said. "It was your face I saw, your presence here foretelling the doom of my world. I, too, thought that by knowing it, I could change the future. And yet you see how futile that was, for here we are."
Sarah grew pale. It could not be. And yet, five years the Labyrinth had been falling to ruin, a slow death that began ever since she first set foot in it. Hoggle and Sir Didymus had been right to believe her responsible, but they had been too generous in assigning fault. If Jareth was right, she was the Labyrinth's curse. No, she thought, I'll never believe that. Never.
Sarah gripped the arms of the chair so tightly she thought they would crack. "That's not possible."
"Look around you, Sarah." Jareth said with a hint of tired reproach. "Do not tell me what is and is not possible. Once, I blamed you, but it is I who am at fault. With every action, I thought I was evading my destiny, but I was deceived. I will pay the price for my folly. We all will, and very soon."
His gaze upon her was weary, like a man long denied food and water. "Many will die, Sarah. For you."
Sarah pushed back her chair so suddenly, it toppled over. "Enough! No more..." she cried, tears burning in her throat.
"No," he agreed quietly. "No more. Forget this place, Sarah. We are beyond saving now. I have just enough left in me to do one more thing. Let me send you back."
Sarah was quiet for a while. "Will it stop the Labyrinth from dying?"
"No."
"Then why do it? Why save me?"
"You are not of this world." whispered the Goblin King. "There is no need for you to meet its dark end."
"I don't believe you. No more lies." she said stubbornly. "No more evasions. You will tell me the truth."
At her words, Jareth gave an involuntary shudder. Those eyes of hers, darkly dreaming... that voice. It could command him now, if she only knew what she possessed. She could unlock places he'd long kept from the light if he allowed it.
But he would not.
"The time grows too short for games, Sarah. Will you go?"
Sarah took a step forward and something struck her foot. It was Sir Didymus' mirror, lying forgotten on the floor beneath the bed. Sarah picked it up and it was hot to the touch. From far away, she heard a wavering call.
"My lady..."
"Sir Didymus?"
Jareth's question forgotten, she held the mirror up to the light and could just make out the little knight's form, surrounded by darkness. He was in a deep hole, clinging to the walls as the water rose swiftly around him. Far above him was the entrance, covered in debris from the flood with just enough gaps to let the rain in. Sir Didymus hung on doggedly, but he grew tired and the water did not stop.
"He's in an oubliette." Jareth's voice brought her back. "There is no escape from that one."
"He'll drown." said Sarah with dread. "He can't get out, and he can't hold on forever. The rain will fill that hole if they don't find him in time."
"I would have wished for a more merciful ending for him." Jareth sounded weary again, he passed a gloved hand over his eyes.
Sarah could no longer watch, she dropped the mirror facedown and threw herself on the floor beside the bed. Blindly, her hand sought Jareth's and squeezed hard.
"You have to make it stop. Please!"
The Goblin King gazed at her hand in his with regret. "I don't think I can."
"Can't you try?" she begged him, "You said you had some power left, enough to send me home. What if you use it to stop the storm? Please... He'll die if you don't do something."
Jareth closed his eyes in pain. Even now, I can refuse you nothing. "If that is your wish."
If it had been anywhere but the Silverwood, he might not have been able to do it. But in this place, steeped in ancient magic and the every beginnings of the world... it could be done. Jareth breathed deeply and pushed away so that all sensations fell away except the pressure of Sarah's hand in his own. There was no fear, no pain, nothing but the beat of his heart as he sent out tendrils of power in all directions, sending them arching through the storm and over the forest. Each filament was delicate as a spider's web but stronger than steel, and Jareth flung them out as far as he could reach.
And then... he pulled.
It was like trying to move a bank of fog as it slipped through your fingers, and Jareth had to move slowly... so slowly, lest it all break away from him. Knife-edged agony pierced his skull, and he set his jaw agains the pain. The power was his to shape with only the strength of his will to aid him. The Goblin King hoped it would be enough.
Sarah watched him intently, his grip on her hand so tight she could no longer feel her fingers. She saw nothing, but she could feel it... power like a gathering storm, where the air grows thick and electric with sorcery. The flames of the hearth dwindled to their lowest, tiny flames barely leaping off the kindling, and the room grew dark with shadows. Jareth lay still, but every muscle in his body was tensed as if to spring. Sarah listened... The rain had slowed, the wind had hushed to a sigh and the thunder rolled further in the distance. With every second that passed, the storm diminished...
The pain was exquisite now, and behind his closed eyelids, the world turned from black to a light of dazzling brilliance. It dizzied him and he fought for control of the storm as it seethed within the confines of his will. He was almost there... just a little further... The torment that threatened to split his head in two blossomed into a starburst of blinding light. It was not enough.
It isn't enough. The words sunk into Sarah's realization with cold horror. She could feel whatever crackled in the air around her weakening, ebbing away like the tide. They had failed. Jareth had done it all for nothing, and Sir Didymus would die.
"No!" she cried aloud, the anguish of her voice breaking the silence of the room. Something inside her shattered like delicate crystal, the shards hurtling outwards until Sarah thought she would be torn to pieces by it. The feeling passed as quickly as it came, leaving her feeling drained and cold.
A fresh wave of suffering broke over the Goblin King, but with it came a rush of energy, so strong that he could feel it to his very fingertips. It was enough. With it, he could rule the storm and shadow, he could hold it like a vise in his mind until it slackened and grew weak, he could scatter its might far and wide until it was nothing... After what seemed like an eternity, Jareth opened his eyes.
"It is done."
Sarah sagged on the bed, her heat beating wildly and her limbs suddenly turned to water. The Goblin King looked no better. All blood had gone from his face, like a stone mask with only his pale eyes looking out of it from deep within like candles burning low in their sconces.
"You have what you want." His voice was rough, slurred with exhaustion.
"Thank you." said Sarah, releasing his hand at last. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to restore warmth. "I'm sorry..."
"Leave me."
She shook her head, not understanding. "But..."
"Your knight has been saved. He will live another day, to see the world's end. I have done as you wished. Leave now." The Goblin King looked upon her with all the coldness he could summon, though it cost him dear.
"What will happen to you?"
"That's none of your concern... any more." Jareth sounded even less intelligible, his consciousness slipping quickly away.
I can't go back without him, thought Sarah miserably. It can't have been all for nothing, it just can't.
The tears would not be dammed now, they ran silently down her cheeks. Jareth's hand hung off the side of the bed looking oddly defenseless, and she reached to move back onto the covers. Something on the inside of his pale wrist caught her attention.
A rust-colored trickle, dark and coppery against his ashen skin.
Sarah risked a glance at the prostrate Goblin King. With a light touch, she peeled off the glove from his right hand, careful to only touch him with her own gloved fingertips. Slender fingers curled protectively in a loose fist, and she straightened them out to reveal a deep gash that ran from the base of his thumb the opposite edge of his palm. Flakes of dried blood came away with the leather, as if it had pooled there in the glove for a time. She looked at it for a long moment, then tucked his hand back under the covers.
Sarah dug through her saddlebags in the corner, keeping on ear out for any rustle of movement. She finally found what she was looking for, wrapped in a strip of leather and shoved all the way to the bottom. She gave a measuring glance at the unconscious Goblin King.
"Answers," Sarah said softly, balancing the small dagger in her palm.
Author's Notes: Chapter title comes from a David Bowie song off his excellent Heathen album, used for its similarity to a line from Labyrinth. (Probably just a coincidence, eh? Too bad...) Both the wonderfully bittersweet song and album as a whole are highly recommended.
Solea mentioned my choice of pen name, and I thought it worthwhile to include a short note of explanation. I had no idea it was a movie, much less a badly written one! It was taken from French for "dance of death", a common theme in medieval art (particularly around the time of the bubonic plague) where death is symbolized by a skeleton, usually leading a procession to the grave. In the allegorical sense, it represents the power of death over the living, whether they be rich or poor, young or old, etc. Rather grim, but it suits me.
Comments/reviews welcome.