Author's Note: Hmmm, not much to say here. This chapter's a bit shorter, but I think there's enough in it to keep everyone occupied until the next update.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Falling
Sarah had never been afraid of the night. Always before it held endless mystery, the promise of sleep and beautiful dreams. No more. Moonrise lit the small clearing in the brush where she lay, and Sarah could hear she was not far from the river. She could not see the light of the campfire, and darkness had swallowed the Goblin King so completely it was as if he'd become a shadow himself.
He's gone, thought Sarah, numb with pain and misery.
She could not believe it, because he'd always been with her. She realized it only then, that whether or not she was alone, his presence could be felt everywhere. Jareth was the Underground. But she could not feel him now. Sarah cried a little, half-hysterical, choking sobs she smothered with her shirtsleeve. She sat unmoving, huddled among the roots of a tree like a frightened animal while the seconds ticked by like hours. Time had little meaning when each minute dragged by in an eternal night. From far away came the haunting cry of an owl, but she flinched to hear it. Sarah knew she should get up, try and follow him as best she could. Her ankle throbbed, and she didn't think she could stand.
She was so tired. But she didn't dare sleep.
He chose an oblique path, wanting to be certain the girl would not find her way back to camp. Sarah spoke, but he did not hear her words. Fury drove the Goblin King like a madman and his grip on her arm was hard enough to bruise that white flesh, hard enough to leave... A mark. Rage robbed him of all other feeling, but he welcomed the numbness. False words and empty promises. All his dreams come to nothing. All her pale beauty a lie. Jareth wanted to fly, to scream. He wanted to do her harm.
But he did not. Instead, the Goblin King left her alone in the dark woods to seek her fate. Seek it far from here, Sarah, he wished upon her. You will have no part in mine.
Now he crashed blindly through the trees, uncaring of his direction and leaving a trail of broken undergrowth in his wake. Branches tore at his clothing, but he did not notice them or feel the bloodied scratches they left on his arms and face. All he desired was the absolution of open sky, the crystal moon calling.
Jaeth's strides grew longer, more swift, and he lifted his face up to the wind. He slipped easily into his owl form between one step and the next, launching himself skyward on silent wings. Guilt and anger besieged his brain, and he longed to rid himself of this unwieldy tangle of human emotions. Though he did not always revel in the fierce appetites of his raptor shape, tonight he welcomed them.
Blood and meat, he thought with envy. A predator has such simple desires.
When he screeched his hunting call, it was one of anguish and despair.
It was a fever dream, and she was caught halfway between sleep and waking in the shadowy limbo between worlds. Sarah lay on her back in the fallen leaves, the cool earth doing little to ease the heat that built up in her body until it was almost unbearable. She tossed and moaned. The trees loomed above her, their half-bare branches arching like claws over the night sky. The moon hung in the heavens like a ripe fruit just out of reach, and in her feverish daze Sarah thought she could almost feel its pull upon her body like the tides.
Just close your eyes...
Sarah blinked, trying to fight the urge to sleep. I can't give up. I have to make it back to the goblin city. King... or no king.
Ignoring her bruised ankle, she dragged herself off the ground, feeling her way toward the river. The King of the Dead's mark burned her, she could not touch it without crying out and even the soft brush of her sleeve against it sent her sensitized nerve endings into screaming overload. Gritting her teeth, Sarah pushed the feelings away and focused instead on the parched burning of her throat.
Water. I must get to the river.
She crawled on her hands and knees over tree roots, the underbrush catching on her clothing and tearing at her hair. When she finally reached the riverbank, the water was blessedly cool on her face and she drank until her stomach ached in protest. Sarah bathed her arm, both drawn and repelled by the way the mark shone in the moonlight. She grabbed a handful of wet sand and gravel, scrubbing at it until her skin felt raw. It was unchanged. She would never be rid of it. Stretched out full length on the bank, Sarah let her hair hang in the current, the dark strands disappearing in the even darker water.
"Hoggle," she whispered, "Sir Didymus. I need you..."
Please, she begged. Please answer me.
For a long time, there was only the liquid sound of the river burbling over smooth stone. Then the water began to shimmer and ripple in the moonlight, and from very far away she could hear a faint conversation.
"...clear as a mirror."
"There you go again, waxing all poetic. It's just water, and we've got plenty of that lying around in puddles everywhere."
"Verily, I would agree, but this bowl seems particularly special, friend Hoggle."
"Yeah, because it's Jareth's. Everything of his is special, and that means I'm not touching it for all the turnips in the goblin city. And you'd better not fool with it either, if you know what's good for... Sarah?"
Hoggle's puzzled face swam into view, blinking in confusion. Beside him was Sir Didymus, whose face brightened immediately.
"My lady!"
"Sarah, you're safe! Thank the gods... Tell us where you are. Have you found Jareth?"
"I'm all right," said Sarah, almost too happy to speak, "And... I found him."
"I knew you would triumph, my lady." crowed Sir Didymus, "We are awaiting your return!"
Sarah wiped away her tears. "That's the problem, Sir Didymus. I don't know if I'm coming back. Something's gone wrong, he's so angry..."
"What?" Hoggle leaned forward so far that his face seemed oddly distorted. "What happened, Sarah?"
"Angry with you?" Sir Didymus seemed genuinely puzzled. "His Majesty is occasionally of uncertain temper, but..."
A swirling eddy shattered the glassy surface, breaking up their images. The voices grew faint.
"No," Sarah cried, "Don't go, not yet!"
She was hungrier than she realized for the sight of her friends, their warm smiles and open faces. Sarah wasn't sure she could bear it if they vanished and left her here, alone in the oppressive dark. The tears once again flowed freely, mingling with the dust on her face in dirty streaks. She staggered to her feet, covering her eyes with the heels of her hands. Sarah needed not to be alone, she needed someone or something to drive away the cold that crept over her.
"Jareth!" she cried out at last. "Jareth, please!"
She strained her ears for the slightest sound, a voice, the soft rush of owl's wings.
There was nothing.
Sarah stumbled and her swollen ankle buckled beneath her. She dug her fingers into the damp earth, but could not rise. Against her will her eyes began to close, and a cold mist drifted in from over the river, twinkling with tiny green globes of light.
Beloved...
A sigh stole from the darkness, soft and sweet. It wrapped her in despair, cradling each tender limb with the promise of oblivion. It offered her refuge from the pain, a gentle undoing of thought and memory.
Only come to me, the voice promised. We will belong to each other, and you will never be unhappy again...
Sarah dreamed that the promise gave her strength, infused her spent body with cold fire until it lifted her from the ground. She dreamed that the river was aglow with pale blue light that banished the darkness, and that a figure all in white waited on the opposite bank, his hand held out in silent welcome. She took a shaking step toward it, then another until she stood on the gentle slope of the riverbank overhanging the water. Beneath it, the waters ran fast and deep.
Just a little further, Sarah mine...
"Yes," replied Sarah, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and speech slurred, "It doesn't look that far..."
She stepped into empty air and fell, the swift river closing over her head without a single splash. The currents tangled around her body like icy ribbons, pulling her ever deeper. She looked up, past her outstretched arms and the water's surface where the moon hung low and bright over the river. The water was achingly cold, filling her mouth as she tried to scream.
Drink, my love, came the voice, hushed and seductive in her ear. Drink deep...
Little by little Sarah ceased to feel, already her fingers were numb. Just on the other side of the water, the moon shone silver and gold, forever out of reach. Sarah kept her eyes fixed upon it as she sank deeper, until a shadow crossed its face and the light was lost to her.
This was no dream.
"She's gone." Hoggle sat on the ground in a pile of damp straw, his weathered face slack with shock as he thought over what they'd seen.
Sarah's wild-eyed image faded from the reflection in the silver bowl just as quickly as it had appeared. She was alone somewhere in the Silverwood, with only a cold and distant moon for light. Hoggle cursed silently to himself. They'd been wrong to let her go, and now Sarah was paying for their mistake.
For once, Sir Didymus seemed at a loss for words. He furiously preened his whiskers, muttering under his breath.
"She didn't look at all well, Didymus. Sarah's been crying. If Jareth's done something to her..."
The little knight shook his head fiercely. "I cannot believe it."
"More like will not." retorted Hoggle. "He's capable of it. Jareth's capable of anything."
"His Majesty would not harm her."
"Why, because he loves her?" Hoggle demanded. "Oh yes, I know your silly theory. When are you going to see it's nothing but a fantasy? He's left us here to deal with this catastrophe of a kingdom, and now Sarah's in trouble, too. The man is a tyrant and a liar, and if you think he's going to look out for you and me, you can think again."
Sir Didymus drew himself up stiffly, the very picture of affronted sensibility. "Verily, if thou were not my friend, I would challenge thee to a duel for thy words."
"Oh, don't start that with me." said the dwarf angrily, "You've always been blind when it comes to him. Loyalty's a fine thing to have, but our lives mean something, too!"
"The life of a knight is meaningless without loyalty and honor."
"Good thing I'm not a knight, then, because I only have to worry about my loyalty to my friends and not some overbearing king. " He paused. "Speaking of which, I want that trinket of Jareth's."
If Sir Didymus was capable of turning white beneath his fur, he would have. "That is... impossible."
"Like hell it is. If it's got any magic left in it, it can be used to save Sarah. It's a far better use for it than he'll use it for, mark my words."
"You are mistaken, friend Hoggle," said the little knight, warily inching back with one paw on his staff. "I cannot bestow it upon anyone because it is not mine to give."
"Don't be such a stickler, Didymus," Hoggle said irritably, advancing upon the fox, "You've got it and possession is eleven tenths of goblin law."
Sensing a battle eminent, the goblins had scattered... but not too far. Curious eyes peeped from the doorway and from every nook and cranny in the half-finished roof. Several bystanders nodded in matter-of-fact agreement at Hoggle's astute grasp of legislation.
"Law or not, this is a matter of honor." said the little knight resolutely. "I wish I could oblige thee, my friend, but it is as I said-- impossible."
Hoggle gaped. "You can't mean it. You swore to help Sarah and protect her if you could, Didymus. If that shiny bauble can save her, you had better damn well hand it over."
"I did vow to aid my lady," said Sir Didymus with dismayed regret, "But I made a promise to His Majesty first."
"Stuff His Majesty!"
The little knight drew his staff and held it at the ready before him. "I made an oath, and I cannot forsake it. If this jewel thy desire, thou must take it from me."
"You--!" Hoggle was struck speechless, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "You hairy little traitor!"
With a roar, he sprang at the fox only to have Sir Didymus step smartly aside and apply a sharp whack to the back of Hoggle's knees. The dwarf went down in an undignified heap.
"A thousand apologies." cried Sir Didymus, doffing his hat quickly before dashing out the door.
"Didymus!" yelled Hoggle, untangling himself from bits of broken chicken crate. "You're mad!"
He picked himself up painfully, thankful that nothing was broken. Hoggle glared at the goblins who were falling over themselves with hysterics.
"Don't just stand there, damn you! Go after him!"
As a group they dashed out into the courtyard and past the castle gates only to meet with a shocking sight. Lightning crackled across the night sky, jagged crimson against black without a rain cloud to be seen. It gave even Hoggle reason to pause. Something in the air sang with the rage of the heavens, a feeling of deep foreboding that shook everyone down to the soles of their feet.
Only Sir Didymus paid it no heed. The little knight had already saddled a sleepy Ambrosius and was spurring him into one of the long Labyrinth corridors. Before his friends could pursue him, the ground gave another powerful heave, then an ear-shattering crack that sent goblins flying everywhere. When the dust cleared, Hoggle sat up groaning, shoving the stunned bodies of goblins off his chest. Sir Didymus was long gone. The air still smelled of ice and winter, but overlaid it now was the scent of something that reminded him of smoke. Hoggle rubbed at his eyes, blinking away the grit.
A massive chasm had opened up, splitting the Labyrinth neatly in two.
Cautiously peering over the edge, Hoggle dropped a fist-sized chunk of rock into the ravine and waited. It disappeared soundlessly into the dark, as if devoured by some gaping maw. Though it had been growing warmer, the dwarf shuddered.
"What now?" he wondered aloud. "I hate not knowing what's going to happen."
One particularly bold goblin joined him at the chasm's edge and shook her head reproachfully. "Something is going to be horrid..."
Blood stained his beak and talons, gore clinging to the feathery tufts of his breast. The kill was swift and merciless, and now silvery moonlight filtered through the canopy of leaves as he flitted from shadow to shadow. It was a beautiful night, the air was cold and crisp. He'd seen the land beyond the Silverwood cloaked in silent drifts of snow, glittering like the absent stars.
It brought him no peace.
The owl took flight again to pierce those great heights and put distance between him and that dark clearing by the river. Storms raged through his head and heart, and the night's serene quiet did nothing to soothe him. Betrayed. The thought still shook him to the core, something he had not expected. But I should have. Yet there had been something, Jareth had been almost certain... For the hundredth time since he'd left her, the Goblin King probed the dull ache of his regrets. Mortal hearts. So fragile... and so fickle.
Even in his other shape, he could see in the dark better than any mortal, and Sarah's face still haunted him. Pale as the moon, eyes fever-bright but near blind in the dark. He'd found that comforting, knowing she could not see him, could not see the pain and despair that must surely be written upon his face. It was necessary, he reminded himself. As great a danger as Sarah had been before, now she represented an even greater one.
Jareth only suspected he'd made an enemy of the Shadow King. After seeing the dread king's mark upon the girl, he knew. The king had chosen the one adversary who'd beaten Jareth, the only one with any power over him. Whether she'd knowingly made a pact with him or not, she was a pawn-- one that could be used against the Goblin King. If this Rael wished him harm, he only to harm the Labyrinth through Sarah. Then his revenge would be complete, indeed.
I have stayed too long. He should leave, he knew that. Unburdened by any companion and riding the wind, it would only take him a few days to return home. He could--
"Jareth!"
The wind carried the sound of his name along to him, thin and sweet and full of desperation. The shock of it was a blow to his fierce predator's heart, one he had not thought he could still feel. Do not say my name, he'd commanded her. Do not summon me.
Yet she called upon him still, and Jareth found himself unconsciously turning toward the sound of her voice, almost lost among the tangled bracken. No! He wheeled abruptly in another direction, beating his wings in fury. Do not think of her. She is lost to you.
She called his name again, higher, more pleading.
His wings faltered. Jareth screamed his sorrow, the cry tearing from his throat like blood sacrifice. It is no use.
Sarah belonged to another.
Rage crippled him, he flew heedless of what lay in his path. Jareth cursed his frailty. He could not linger here, there was nothing for him. If the Underworld King intended to have his revenge, he could not leave the Labyrinth and his city unprotected. He must leave, make his way back to the goblin city. Alone.
And so he might have done if his weak heart hadn't betrayed him in turn. One last turn, one last look at the doom that might have been his own...
It was not difficult to find that dark clearing. Something in the earth and air called out to him, and always would. High as he was, the Goblin King caught the scent of something dangerous on the wind, of old blood and winter. The waters of the Merandanon looked black from above, but his keen eye saw the mists that curled across its banks, the flickering of will-o'-the-wisps in the distance. False witchlights, he thought with sudden cold apprehension, Luring the innocent astray...
His flight brought him closer, although his instincts screamed for him to be away. Then Jareth saw her, standing on a high embankment over the river's edge, pale as a wraith. Sarah's hair hung loose, dark locks moving as though blown by the wind although there was no breeze to be had in the shelter of the wood. Her lovely face was empty of all but a strange, dreamy look, as if she was watching something or someone far away. Enough, he said sternly. You've looked on her long enough.
But Sarah took a hesitant step. Then another. He saw her fall unresisting, a silent white shadow swallowed by the dark swell of the river. One moment she hung in the air wrapped with mist and witchlight, the next it was as if Sarah had never been there at all. The owl shrieked, disbelieving.
She did not surface again.
What must be must be, said a cold voice within him. Do not interfere. Let her go.
For the space of a few wingbeats, he hesitated, strangled by uncertainty and longing.
I cannot...
Only Rumor was there to witness the strange unfolding of events. Nervous and trembling with agitation, she knew her mistress needed her, but something she could neither see nor smell barred her path. The mare tore at the earth and paced this invisible barrier, first in one direction, then another. When the river took the girl, she whinnied shrilly, hooves slicing the air and dark eyes wild with fright and anger.
She was only an animal. An extraordinary animal to be sure, but Rumor had no words to express what she felt, only raw instinct that cried out at the wrongness of it all. This was not how it should be.
Then from out of the open sky plummeted a great white bird, one that screamed as it fell, screamed and changed...
It is said that the waters of the Merandanon run deep in the Silverwood, cutting through earth and rock to the very center of the world. There were depths pierced neither by daylight nor moonlight, and it did not matter if Sarah opened her eyes or not. The whole world had grown dark, blood thundering slowly in her ears as she sank toward murky oblivion. Her hair rose and fell on the billows of the current, and a siren call drifted up to her like the waving ropes of river-weed that twined around her body.
To me, it crooned, a mad love song.
Sarah floated through the watery void, held captive by the current and the voice's tender allure. Are you there? I think I made you up inside my head...
No, lovely Sarah, it sang, A little while longer and we shall be together for always... Only say my name, and it shall be done.
A slick strand of weed caressed her throat, and Sarah shuddered to feel it. Like a creature of nightmare, it moved like a live thing, hungrily seeking. She twisted to avoid it, but her mind had grown cold and lethargic. I shouldn't be here...
Do not struggle. Do not defy me, Sarah...
Sarah froze where she was, the river-weed forgotten. What did you say?
Everything you wanted, I have done. I have reordered time...
No. Sarah began to struggle in earnest now, tearing herself free and kicking toward the surface. Those are not the right words.
The currents became invisible hands, pulling her in all directions and dragging her down. Sarah fought them, kicking harder.
No! cried the voice. Do not leave me, it begged soundlessly. Say my name...
She shook her head fiercely, tiny silver bubbles rising from her lips. I do not remember.
The voice gave a ragged, angry sob, one that made cold prickles break out all over her skin.
You promised me...
I am so sorry, thought Sarah. I cannot.
Years later, Jareth would not be able to say how he'd found her. His second plunge into the river was like a living death, an icy embrace that robbed him of breath and sight. Lost in the dark waters, he could only reach out blindly around him, both fearing to find her and not being able to bear the thought that he might not. He had no breath to form the words, and nothing he could say would have made it past the bitter desolation that rose up and threatened to choke him. If she was not to be found... Jareth didn't allow himself to complete the thought. His air had all but given out, but he ignored the burning of his lungs and dove still deeper.
Her body was tangled in river-weed, slippery green-black ropes of it that he tore at with his hands. Sarah was limp in his arms, but he clasped her to him as he struck out for the surface, his face buried in the curve of her neck. Something hot stung his eyelids, soon lost in the rush of the chill water.
You cannot give up. Not you...
It took forever to break free of the river's hold. Somewhere between the dark and the light, his lips found hers, warm and seeking, his fingers wound in the wet tangle of Sarah's hair. They broke through to the open air, Jareth holding her so tightly to him that he could not be sure if her heart still beat within her breast, or if it was merely his own that he felt. He drank in the sweetness of her mouth, drowned in it with the wet tendrils of her hair wrapped around him. It was exquisite madness, and he wished for it never to end. Jareth was afraid to let her go, fearing to see her eyes forever closed to him.
Breathe, he thought desperately, putting all he could into the command. Only breathe, and I will ask for nothing else...
It started out small, a brilliant pinpoint of light against the darkness like a distant star. She was almost gone, but it did not ask for much. Wait, it said. Only breathe... Quiet and insistent, it would not let her shut her eyes, would not let her go to the undiscovered country and leave the light. It would not let her sleep.
Sarah waited.
The light grew larger until was it was a white and shining thing that encompassed her entire vision. Where before she had only known the grim shadows, something called to her that reminded her of the warmth of the sun and the scent of grass underfoot. Sarah yearned for it, reached toward it with the last of her dimming thoughts. That last thread which tethered her to the dark had drawn thin, spun out long and frail as spider's silk. She floated above it now, and Sarah strained against it one last time with all she had...
The thread snapped. She was free.
When she opened her eyes again to the world above, Sarah found herself entwined in the arms of the Goblin King and she gripped shredded handfuls of his shirt and clung as if she never meant to let go. Where their lips met was a song of ice and fire, newly awoken senses flaring painfully to life. Sarah wished she could drink in the warmth of his body pressed against hers, to take that heat into her cold flesh and make it her own. Unbidden, her fingers skimmed up the length of his arm and grazed the lean line of his jaw.
Oh yes, thought Sarah. I do want him.
Reference: As she's drowning, Sarah recalls a line from Sylvia Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song". Also a nod to George R.R. Martin's fantasy series at the end.
Comments/reviews welcome.