Author's Note: As some of you might know, I've been driving myself pretty hard to finish this story because I'll be leaving shortly and won't be back for quite some weeks. That's why this update has come a little ahead of the weekly schedule, and the next one will, too. I hope not to have sacrificed quality for speed, but things are quickly coming to a head here and we'll be wrapping things up before too long-- one more chapter after this one, it looks like.
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Betrayal
There would never be another journey like it. Rumor flew along the path by the river, her hooves barely skimming the ground, and within an hour they'd left the shade of the Silverwood behind. The sun shone hot on their backs as they forded the Merandanon through the valley of firethorn, kicking up silver sheets of water with their passing. There was no time to speak, and Sarah simply hung on, safe in the knowledge that she would not be allowed to fall. They rode without the need for words, bent low over the mare's neck as the wind swept past.
It's him, thought Sarah, feeling foolish for not realizing it sooner. Rumor was fast, but not that fast. Several days' journey in a single afternoon... It made her suddenly apprehensive. She'd grown so used to the Goblin King as helpless as any mortal than it seemed strange to her now to see him as he was. Sarah had nearly forgotten. Jareth was back to his old self in all ways, the arrogant, fey creature she remembered from five years before. As each mile fell away behind them, she could feel him growing more confident, more determined. Someone so powerful could crush you like an insect without even realizing it.
But even as her fears multiplied, Jareth's arm slipped around her waist as if in reminder. I am here, the gesture said. I will always be here. Love had the power to change the inevitable, alter the inalterable. Sarah had to believe that with everything she had. A tear escaped her eye, but it quickly dried in the wind and she did not think Jareth noticed. Sarah covered his hand with her own, interlacing her fingers tight with his as if she could hold on to him by sheer force.
And I will, she thought fiercely. I won't ever let go.
"He's lost a great deal of blood."
Hoggle hated sick rooms. Water bubbled in a kettle over the fire, but it was not for tea. Instead of the scent of food was the pungent odor of yarrow and willow bark, overlaid with the coppery smell of blood. Sir Didymus lay on a cot wrapped in blankets, a poultice of herbs and clean padding bound over his chest. He had neither moved nor spoken since the search party brought him back, and his breathing was so slight that Hoggle feared each one would be the last.
The physician was called immediately, an elderly goblin with wisps of white hair and a worn leather bag nearly as large as he was. He'd been all business, cutting off the little knight's ruined clothing with a pair of shears and sponging the blood off his matted fur with brisk precision. Clucking disapprovingly at the wound, the healer bandaged it up while Hoggle looked anxiously on. One of the search party had even brought back the thorn, carefully wrapped in a bit of burlap. It lay on the windowsill, and the dwarf could not look at it without shuddering. How many hours, he wondered grimly, Lying there alone and forgotten in the dark...
"He lives." said the physician abruptly, wiping his hands on a clean rag. "For now."
"Isn't there anything else you can do?"
"There's healing and there's miracles, lad. I can only do one and not t'other."
Hoggle sat limply on a chair by the cot. "It would take a miracle? It's just that he's always been very... lucky."
"Your friend is lucky to have survived this long," said the healer. "But he's not indestructible."
The dwarf pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at a sudden bit of moisture in his eye. "I always thought he was."
Packing up his workbag, the physician paused and peered kindly over his wire-rimmed spectacles. He snapped the bag shut and seemed to make a decision then and there.
"I do not mean to rob you of all hope." The healer leaned toward the dwarf, his eyes bright. "They say," he began confidentially, "That he has been seen."
Hoggle looked up sharply. "Goblins say a lot of things."
"So we do." The physician gave an amused nod. "But we have our ways of knowing, and sometimes rumor is not so far from truth."
"I'll grant you that." said Hoggle. "He is capable of many things and I've always said you can't count him out no matter how beaten he seems."
He glanced at Sir Didymus' still form and it made him angry.
"But you can't rely on him to do what's right, either. Jareth will do what he wants and the rest of us be damned."
The physician was taken aback, his spectacles slid down his nose as he gaped at the dwarf in shock. There was a scuffle and a loud commotion out in the courtyard, and he cleared his throat to speak over it. "Well now, I--"
But Hoggle was just getting warmed up. "Oh, Didymus always defended him too, and look where it got him! He's paid for his loyalty, and he'll get nothing in return, you can bet the turnip patch on it."
The physician coughed nervously and seemed anxious to be away, but the dwarf stood between him and the door, meaning to have his full say.
"And I'll tell you one thing, he may be king of this land, but he's never done a single thing that wasn't out of his own bloated self-interest, and you can't count on that to change no matter what happens."
"Oh, I wouldn't--" squeaked the hapless healer.
But Hoggle barreled on. "I'm only saying what everyone is thinking. I'm afraid too, but there are some things that cannot be borne, and I'm putting my foot down now. So there'll be no more rumors or whisperings among you lot about this, do you hear me? Even if he did return, Jareth would only--"
A silky voice from behind Hoggle interrupted. "Jareth would only... what?"
Hoggle froze. He turned around and sure enough, the Goblin King stood in the doorway, leaning against its frame and looking down at him with narrowed eyes.
"Do go on." he prompted with a razor-edged smile.
"I..."
Hoggle assessed his escape routes: up the chimney, or through the small window above the workbench. Neither one was promising, and he was fairly certain Jareth would blast him to cinders if he so much as twitched in either direction. When Sarah appeared behind the Goblin King, he heaved a sigh of relief.
"Hoggle!" She pushed through the doorway and rushed to hug him. "I thought I'd never see you again."
Sarah looked different. Older somehow, with all her fear and exhaustion burned away so the light shone through. She'd always been pretty, but now she was something more, and in that simple gown of white silk, she looked like a queen. Hoggle did not fail to note the way Jareth's eyes followed her as she crossed the room, tracking her every movement like a hunter. So that's how things are, he thought in uneasy wonder. Then Didymus was right about that, too.
"Me?" Hoggle patted her on the back and blew his nose on his ratty handkerchief. "Nothing could ever happen to me. It's you I was worried about. You're back now, and that's all that matters. But oh, Sarah... A lot happened while you were away. Most of it bad, and I don't know how to tell you..."
Sarah sobered and perched on the low stool he offered. "It's okay, Hoggle, I know about Ludo. I know... we've lost him."
"That's not all you've lost."
Nearly forgotten, the Goblin King now stood over the cot. His face did not betray his emotions, but his words fell like chips of ice.
"Sir Didymus!"
She rose so quickly the stool overturned. Jareth caught her and held her hand tight, whispering into her ear. Sarah shook her head, tears spilling down her face. She touched the heavy bandage on the little knight's chest, heard the gentle rasp of his breathing.
"You have some explaining to do." said the Goblin King curtly. "Talk."
The dwarf joined them at the little knight's bedside, head bowed. "We had an argument."
He explained about the chasm, the search party, and finding Didymus lying outside the Labyrinth walls, a bloody thorn clutched in his paw. Sarah listened, her face white. Jareth stood behind, his arms braced around her for support. When the sad tale was done, she knelt to hug the dwarf.
"Oh, Hoggle. It wasn't your fault."
"Maybe, maybe not." said Hoggle between sniffs. "Can't help but feel responsible, especially when he's like this."
His shoulders began to shake a little, and he turned away. Sarah gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and looked again at Sir Didymus lying on the cot. He looked so peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. I can't lose him, too, Sarah thought. Not after Ludo. There has to be a way... A picture flashed through her mind, an image of dark and swirling water. She pulled the Goblin King outside, where the warm afternoon sun did little to take away the cold she felt.
His mouth was set in a thin line. "Sarah, do not ask."
"Please." Sarah looked up at him. "Isn't there something you can do? You saved me."
The Goblin King closed his eyes. "That is not the same at all."
"But it's not so very different," she insisted, refusing to let him pull away. "I've seen you do... incredible things. Couldn't you bring him back?"
"I am not the one with the power of life and death," said Jareth angrily, "If that's what you wanted, you've made a poor choice in me."
Sarah paled. "That's not what I wanted."
"Then you already have your answer." Jareth shook himself free and walked away. "Do not think I am happy about this, Sarah. I've known Didymus far longer than you have, his loss to me is greater than you will ever know."
Sarah refused to give up, matching his strides with difficulty.
"Then do something. Don't just give up on him. You know he would've never given up on you, no matter what happened."
"There are limits to what I can do, and it's time you learned that. I have a kingdom in ruin, and he is one life among many. You cannot ask me to sacrifice all for him, and he would not ask it for himself."
"He's not asking. I am." Sarah dragged him to a standstill by grabbing his arm and refusing to let go. She forced Jareth to face her, and when she looked up at him his eyes were full of pain and confusion.
"Please, Jareth."
"Sarah..."
She shook her head, refusing to listen. "I'll do whatever it takes to save him."
"You don't know what you're risking."
"Didymus never knew what he was risking either, but that never stopped him."
They'd come to a weathered door set deep into the castle wall, one that looked like it had not been opened for a long time. Gossamer cobwebs clung to the shadowed corners of the arch above it, and the surface was smooth of any keyhole or handle. It simply stood there as immovable as time, and Jareth leaned against it wearily.
"There's nothing you can do."
"Not me, perhaps." She dropped her gaze. "Not directly."
Jareth's reply was wary. "We have no time for games, Sarah. This is no trivial matter."
"I'm not playing games." Sarah stepped back and regarded him with a calm she did not feel. "You said it yourself-- we neither of us have the power of life and death."
The realization crept over Jareth like a sudden chill. "No." he said flatly. "Do not even think it."
"But--"
Fury kindled in his eyes and he seized her by the shoulders. "You could call upon him and he would come. What bargain would you strike with the King of the Dead, Sarah? What do you think he wants?"
"You wouldn't let him have me." Sarah managed to gasp. His grip would leave a ring of bruises around each arm.
"I swore I'd never let him touch you again. If he were to come here, I would kill him. Is that what you want?"
Uncertainty made her voice quiver. "You can't kill him."
Jareth's expression grew even more grim. "No. But I'd have to try. Now do you understand?" He forced himself to release her. "Promise me you'll never say his name again, Sarah. I do not ask this lightly, but you cannot call upon him no matter how great your need. Not ever."
Nodding through her tears, Sarah sank to the ground, rubbing her aching shoulders. She thought of a dark-haired youth and a kiss like winter, and she shuddered.
"I'm sorry. I do realize... how dangerous that would be. It was a stupid idea."
"Not so stupid." said Jareth with bitter regret. "He would answer any summons you made, and he would have no choice. But neither would you. Such is the nature of bargains with the Shadow King."
He crouched down beside her and held her for a while, drying her tears. "Didymus is not dead. He is not beyond redemption."
Hope. "Then you will do something?"
Jareth sighed. "I always do as you ask."
He pulled her to her feet and the two of them faced the weathered door. Placing a palm upon it, Jareth gave a small push and it swung open on silent hinges.
"Come," he said to her, taking her hand, "There is much to be done."
It was just as she remembered it. They stood in the base of a massive stone tower, and spiraling up the walls was a dizzying maze of stairways that led nowhere, with doorways that opened to nothing. The last time she was here, Toby was crawling forever out of reach and a black-and-crimson clad Goblin King taunted her powerlessness. Sarah shivered involuntarily and rubbed her arms. Her reaction did not escape Jareth's notice. He seemed uneasy as if he, too, were troubled by old memories.
"We must go up." was all he said.
High up among the roof-beams, Sarah saw dusty shafts of sunlight and the occasional bird winging from one shadowed perch to the next. It looked like a building long abandoned, as if someone had locked the entrance and simply left everything the way it was. She followed Jareth as he led the way through the maze, wondering if that was what he'd done.
Their footsteps echoed on the stone, and chaos ordered itself for him. It was never anything Sarah could see happening, but like magic, warped stairways straightened in his path, doors always led where he wanted them to lead. They passed by many small rooms, filled with books and curious objects. Sarah wanted to stop and ask questions about the things she saw, but there was no time and the Goblin King did not invite inquiry. Tension showed in the line of his back and the precision of each movement with no energy wasted, as if he was bracing himself for something. Before she knew it, they'd reached the top of the tower.
They entered an austere bed chamber with a fire already burning in the hearth. A wine-colored carpet plush underfoot kept out the chill of the stone floor. On one side of the room was a small writing desk and chair, and on the other, a bed hung with draperies of soft ivory and cream. Opposite the fireplace was a large arched window. Sarah went to it and peered out.
"You can see the entire Labyrinth from here." she said in wonder.
The Goblin King stood quietly to one side. He'd said little during the climb, his pace brisk with a confidence he did not truly own. Jareth had not changed his mind about one thing. What he felt for this girl left him open and vulnerable. He would only be as strong as her weakest point and that thought pierced him through with a hot rush of fear. If she had called upon him... But she had not.
The Goblin King realized two things. one a possibility, the other, an inevitability. Both made him feel cold and sick. He watched Sarah as she sat on the ledge, one hand braced on the window's arch. The white of her sleeve fluttered in the wind and the light shone through it. Jareth was trapped by her beauty, the fragility of this creature who could fall and shatter them both into a thousand pieces.
Falling...
She was leaning out too far, he should tell her to take care. But the Goblin King remained silent. His eyes were dark and shuttered once more and his gaze upon her had grown calculating.
Sarah did not see it, she was too busy looking over the Labyrinth. From here she could see it all, the sprawl of the goblin city, hedges and walls stretching on in jagged twists and turns, and the gaping chasm that split it in two. Goblins swarmed over the rope bridge and she almost laughed to see their crazed acrobatics. But she looked again and the laughter died in Sarah's throat.
From their vantage point, she could also see the damage: tumbledown walls, the trash and debris left behind by the flood-- and over it all, dead thorn-vine creeping across the landscape in a yellow-brown haze. It was a pale ruin of the beautiful place she'd known-- just as she'd seen in her dreams. Instinct told her that if it appeared tragic to her, the sight of it must hurt Jareth all the more, and she turned to him, wanting to offer comfort.
Something in his expression changed quickly, as if someone had shut a door. The Goblin King smiled easily and came to sit beside her at the window.
"A distressing sight, to be sure. But all will be put to rights." he said, tilting his head in her direction, "If you will help me, Sarah."
Her reply was without hesitation, and it wrenched him to hear her agree so readily. "Of course."
But Jareth forced himself to smile again, to take her by the hand and brush the back of it with his lips, as elegant as any courtier. Sarah was no fool, this strange formality was something that did not fit. Her lovely eyes were wary, and seeing it left a bitter taste in the Goblin King's mouth. She could sense the lie in him, just as he could sense the confusion in her. He must move quickly before all was discovered.
It matters little, thought Jareth bleakly. She will know the truth soon enough.
They stood together without speaking at the window. Outside, the sun sank lower in the sky, bathing the room in burnished golds and reds. The cooling air smelled of woodsmoke, and the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Sarah studied the profile of this man she loved, the way the shadows fell beneath his cheekbones, the proud set of his chin and firm line of his mouth. It had taken her a long time to realize she loved him, and now Sarah wondered how she had ever thought she couldn't. Jareth's gaze was fixed somewhere on the distant horizon, and she had never seen him more remote.
All the previous night's passion seemed burned away to cold ash, and Sarah felt its keen loss. She wanted more than anything to return to that place in time where they were the only two people in the world and nothing else mattered. Come back to me, she thought, watching his eyes follow the path of the dying sun. Don't go where I can't follow. But the Goblin King was lost, his mind wandering far and wide from the room where they stood. Sarah wondered if she would ever know him completely, or if his thoughts would always be as unfathomable as they were now.
He turned to her at last, but for one frightening moment it was as if he did not know who she was. Then the moment passed and he took her hand.
"Are you ready, love?"
She touched his arm. "Whatever you need from me, I will give."
"You don't know what I am asking."
"It doesn't matter." Sarah looked into those beautifully mismatched eyes. "We'll do whatever needs to be done together."
While he did not pull away, her reassurances did not soften him. Jareth seemed uncertain, with a strange look of hunger that unsettled her. But he only stroked her hair the way he had done that morning, winding a lock of it around his finger.
"No matter what happens," he said quietly, "I swear to you my feelings will never change. You will remember that, won't you?"
Sarah leaned on his shoulder, her head tucked beneath his chin. "Why would I forget?"
The Goblin King chuckled, but without mirth. "Come away from the window, Sarah. It grows cold."
Sarah let him lead her closer to the fire, but his joyless laughter had awoken her old doubts. There was something he wasn't telling her, something he kept hidden. She stopped him as he moved away, searching his face for any clue to his thoughts. The flames flickered across his sharp features, casting his eyes into shadow. From those dark depths they gleamed with a secretive light, and she could no more see what was in them than she could see through polished stone.
"Don't you forget," she said, touching his face gently. "I love you."
Jareth closed his eyes, that dark gleam gone. Those words would never fail to move him, never fail to make him constrict inside with joy and agony, a matchless pain he relished. His reply was vested with all that he could not say and hoped she would understand, tender with love, rough with need and wanting.
"I will never forget."
He drew her to him and kissed her, one hand cradling her head and the other resting easily at her waist. The material of her dress was thin beneath his fingers, and Jareth had a fierce desire to see all of her by firelight, to watch the warm hues of oranges and yellows play across her white skin. There, between the heat of the hearth and the open window, he could taste her sweetness, and it called to him. Sarah's arms stole up around his neck with the faint whisper of silk that accompanied her every movement. It awoke in him the desire to seize handfuls of it, to tug it upwards until it slid over her thighs, then higher... The Goblin King moved nearer, closing the space between their bodies. Claim her. Now. As if she heard him, Sarah shivered in response, inviting his touch. The hand at her waist moved further down, gathering the folds of her gown. She would tremble beneath him, cry out his name...
No. Jareth ended the kiss with reluctance, gently untangling himself from her embrace. He let the silken folds fall and caressed her cheek in apology.
"We must begin." He placed the lone chair in the room before the hearth and gestured for Sarah to sit.
"You have something I need," he began softly, kneeling before her. "I can heal this land, make things the way they were. Everything. But you are the gateway, Sarah. I will need to go through you. Will you allow me to do this?"
Sarah nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The Goblin King brushed his lips briefly against hers.
"Look into the fire, Sarah. It will not hurt you. Look into the fire and open yourself to me..."
His voice dropped to a soothing murmur like the wind through the trees, and Sarah looked deep into the flames. They leapt like dancers in their vault of stone, the half-burned logs touched with molten orange-red that glowed as the breeze from the window fed it.
She felt Jareth take her hand and rub it against his cheek. With his voice and the heat of the fire, her limbs felt very heavy, as if she were sinking into the earth. Sarah's eyes closed and everything drifted away from her on the tide...
It began with a questing thought, one that stole its way into her mind before she even realized it. It stretched and grew like a tendril of morning glory vine, searching this way and that as if seeking the light. The intrusion should have angered her, but it did not. Sarah continued to drift on this river of time that whirled her along like a fallen leaf. From far away, she could hear a familiar voice, soft and coaxing.
Tell us, Sarah mine. Show us the way.
Sarah shook her head, not understanding. I don't know what you want.
Ah, but you do. The gate was destroyed, but the path remains. Lead us there, Sarah. Lead us to him.
Images flickered through her head of a pool in the forest, something rising up out of the water, sleek and wet. The cool contact of bare skin, palm to palm. Will-o'-the-wisps that hung like stars on the mist, and the black, rolling river beckoning her on. On the other side of the chasm, a man all in white.
No. Sarah shuddered, curling into a ball. I am not to say his name. I am not to summon him again.
You won't, soothed the voice. You need not. But he is there, he waits for you whether you call him or not. Only show us the path...
The tendril of thought probed deeper, sorting through her thoughts and memories like someone riffling the pages of a book, and she was too weak to resist. Sarah struggled briefly and was still. Something held her fast, a smothering grip that would not let her move or push away. It was nowhere and everywhere at once, seeking... hunting. And then it found something, the slimmest thread shining like spider's silk adrift in the wind.
Ah, said the voice in grim satisfaction.
That which was inside her gathered itself with a snarl, growing stronger. It became an invading force that barreled through Sarah's mind like an army through a plundered gate, seizing that luminous strand and following back, racing to its source. On the other end of that thread, something dashed itself about and howled like a mad thing, but it could not move, it was tethered fast.
It cried out to her in anguished recognition. It knew her name. Beloved... why do you do this to me?
Sarah could see nothing, but she could feel it all. Somewhere far away, a pale youth with hair like night writhed and wept, curled on a slab of stone beneath a flowering tree. He was caught like a wolf in a trap, clawing at the burning of his flesh as the force breached his meager defenses, assaulting him from every angle. He called out her name as if it would be his salvation.
Sarah!
No, she said, her horror choking her. Don't do this.
But she was only the conduit, she could not stop it. The power that flowed through Sarah encircled him, tangled him and tightened until his sobbing was incoherent in its grief.
Love you... Do anything you say... Only--
He broke off and screamed. The force's flow had reversed. It was draining him, ebbing away at his strength and milking his frailty, and Sarah felt each glistening drop as it slid down the thread like dew. It was the purest distillation of magic and misery, bitter as gall and burning on the tongue. But oh, what it could do... Something that was in her drank it in and gloried in the power.
Sarah doubled over with the pain of it, sorrow racking her limbs until they ached with pity. Don't. Please don't.
You will take everything from me, the youth whispered, pressing a bloody forehead to the stone.
No. Not everything.
Sarah felt its hold relax, felt it let go of the thread that bound them to the King of the Dead and set it adrift again in the void, like a ship loosed from its moorings. It had taken much from him, but it had not taken all.
In the end, he was left with enough to live, enough to cling to his bed of stone as the ivory petals rained down on his body.
Sarah, he murmured, fingers opening and closing on empty air. I will always...
Comments/reviews welcome.