Chapter 13
When the Clock Strikes Thirteen
Arakmias had returned to the battlefield. The goblins were losing, to his pleasure. He had finally killed Jareth and his dark eyed beauty. He was the only legitimate heir to the throne. Life was going his way today!
Yet how could he possibly be happy? He pondered. His kingdom would be in turmoil, he would be the disliked disrespected tyrant of a measly population. The Elvin army was about to crack, and there was only a handful of goblins left. He would rule desolation and debris.
Oh well. He would rule, and that was all that mattered now. That's why he had gone to war, wasn't it? It wasn't his fault if the stupid elves couldn't keep alive. They had trained for this after all. Life was fine.
Until the gypsies came.
They were a little late to the battle (it was a difficult labyrinth when it wanted to be…which it did.) but they came. And they came to have blood.
The battle had raged for twelve hours.
What would happen at thirteen? What could happen at thirteen? Nothing, Jareth was dead and so was the Seer girl. He was the ruler and if he decided nothing would happen, then nothing would happen.
Would it?
Jareth and Dakota were dead to begin with. They couldn't do a thing. They were dead in a JUNKYARD for Odin's sake! (Odin being a god of theirs and the Norwegians. Scandinavia is closer to the Underground than anyone admits) What harm could they do?
Quite a lot it seemed.
In the junkyard, two dead bodies sat, waiting for decomposition. A crone putters about. It is quiet.
Until someone screams.
Dakota sits up, wiping blood from her mouth. Jareth awakes as well. They stare at each other, until the Junk Crone mutters something. 'Thinks he can kill of the king…doesn't know that the king cant die without his quest done he'll just come back…waste of time really, that dearie doesn't know what he's doing…' she says.
Without a word, they are running to the field.
The ground is red. It stinks of murder.
Jareth leans down to Dakota.
"Did you see anything…during the…" He cannot finish the sentence. Dakota's mouth twitches. "Yes…" she says. "It's going to be fine."
Taking her hand, Jareth leaps off the cliff, landing with the grace of an elf and the temper of a goblin. Dakota lands on a large furry red creature—dead. He is next to a dog in livery-also dead. They are amongst many goblins. All dead.
Dakota winces and runs off.
She falls as white light engulfs her.
She sees herself, falling in darkness. Jareth is beside her, and Arakmias leers from above. Blue hands grasp her as---
She awakes. She does not know the outcome of her dream; she only knows that it can't be good.
She runs to Jareth, telling him the story.
Arakmias comes.
"I killed you too quickly last time."
The clock strikes thirteen.
"You have not finished your duty in the thirteen hours. I keep my kingdom. You do not." Arakmias glares. In a flash, they are at the oubliette. Dakota and Jareth are falling. Arakmias is leering. Blue hands are grasping.
"Up or down?" they ask. Dakota babbles. The ones not holding them are making faces. It's a little distracting. "Up if you'd be so kind!"
A split second later, blood soaks the hall. The three of them are dead.
Sarah wakes up. It is one o' clock. Her husband stirs. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"Our child! It's dead….dead…dead…." she weeps. "We don't have a child."
"Of course we do!"
"Was it male or female?"
"I-I don't remember…"
"See, we have no child."
"Just a bad dream?"
"Just a bad dream. Good night."
"Good night."