At first, I am sure that Jareth has dropped me into an oubliette.
But, my eyes adjust and I realize that I'm on my hands and knees in the courtyard of a castle that's nothing like the one beyond the Goblin City. Truly, it's more fortress than castle. The rough stones beneath my hands are cold and slick with a recent rain. The sky above is storm-dark.
Thunder rumbles overhead and shakes the ground beneath my fingers. A wickedly chill wind grabs at my hair and the thin fabric of my old Star Wars t-shirt as it drenches me in the scent of decaying leaves and salt.
Dragging myself to my feet, I search for any signs of the others, of Jareth.
I am alone.
That is until the front doors of the fortress swing open on creaking hinges and a crowd of overdressed courtiers burst into the courtyard. Some of them transform into animals and dash or fly away from the castle as I push up against the stone wall surrounding the grounds, hoping to avoid being trampled or noticed. After the stampede, a man appears in the doorway.
My breath catches in my lungs followed by a sigh of relief. And then I panic. He had looked so much like Jareth for just a moment, before the feeble daylight reveals his eyes which are not dashingly mismatched, but violently green.
As he stalks down the steps of the castle I can hardly believe that I, even for a moment, mistook him for Jareth. His hair, although the same color of cornsilk, is cut short. They have a similar careless grace, but this man's movements are utterly menacing, and—although I can barely believe it's possible—his features are more elven, his cheekbones sharp enough that a girl could cut herself on them. He is dressed in black from the toes of his knee high boots to the tip of his collared leather doublet—a dark Robin Hood. He's ridiculously, heartrendingly, beautiful.
And, coming right at me.
Fear is such a strange thing. I don't know this man, I don't know where I am, but I know that he is something to fear, something to run from. So, I run.
Heart beating violently in my chest, I flee from the courtyard, and out onto a dirt road. Mountains loom in the distance and a bay stretches on the other side of the road. The forested mountain tops are the color of fire—red, orange, and gold.
And, there's Jareth on the dirt road dressed in brown leather looking like a medieval biker. My heart nearly explodes with relief. The storm darkened sky had disguised the fact that the sun was sinking in the west behind the mountains.
"Jareth!" I run toward him, not even caring that it's his fault that I'm scared out of my wits, I'm so happy to see a familiar face—a more or less—friendly face.
"Hello, Gwyn," Jareth says staring right through me as his most infuriatingly amused grin appears.
"I don't have time for you," a voice, sharp as a dagger, answers.
I wave my hand in front of Jareth's face but he takes no notice of me so I turn and watch the king of the Autumn Court approach and remind myself to apologize to Asher. After seeing Gwyn for myself I can hardly blame her for being enthralled. Yet, I'm not sure I'd have fallen for him, his eyes don't twinkle like Jareth's, they swallow up the light. A girl could drown in eyes like those.
A howl rends the air, than another, and another. Every hair on my body stands to attention.
"You always say that," Jareth cants his head, hands on his hips, clearly amused.
"And, I always mean it," Gwyn cuts the Goblin King a sideways glance, his eyes not quite making contact with Jareth's gaze. His hands, encased in black leather of course, clinch at his sides.
"I only came to congratulate you on the success of your coup," Jareth twirls a wrist, a crystal orb forming at his fingertips, "and regicide always demands a gift don't you think?" Jareth's canines are sharp when his lips curl into a sneer and he tosses the orb to other man.
"It will show you your dreams." Suddenly, Jareth seems every bit as menacing as Gwyn.
And, of course, this is a memory which explains why no one notices me at all. Gwyn took over the Autumn Court ages ago.
Gwyn's eyes settle on the crystal before he smiles to himself and crushes it in his fist, his eyes follow the dust as it's caught in the wind. He is looking right past Jareth. "You're a bit premature. Funny, since you're normally so adept in your timing."
Jareth just smiles.
"You won't change my mind and your tricks won't work. The Autumn Court is mine. You have no power here," Gwyn growls, as a pack of wolfhounds emerges from the forest, the courtyard. They are everywhere all their eyes glow just as green as their master's.
I shiver despite knowing that nothing can harm me in a memory.
"He was a fool, like his father. The court has already sworn its allegiance to me,"Gwyn says.
"This is why I've always preferred goblins," Jareth shrugs. "They are simple creatures, but most are fiercely loyal."
"They're all a bunch of idiots," Gwyn frowns. "I'd kill myself before I'd take on the Labyrinth."
"Another benefit of goblins," Jareth grins at Gwyn who seems bored with the conversation, "job security. I'm the only one who can control a goblin horde. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I can travel across the worlds whenever I want or reorder time or…
"Will you shut up?" Gwyn snaps. "The world may very well end before you conclude your list of perceived accolades."
"I am rather awe inspiriting," Jareth nods seriously.
A man and woman—fey if I were to judge by their perfect beauty—drag a man with flaming red hair out of the courtyard. His eyes are full of fight and fury as he takes in the two fair haired men. It's the little foxy creature raging at their heels that draws my attention—Sir Didymus!
"Halt, I say! Take thine filthy paws off his majesty!" Didymus thumps the man on the shin before trying to bite his ankle.
Jareth stiffens. The corners of his mouth tightening almost imperceptibly. "There's no need to kill him."
The mood has shifted so quickly.
"Jareth?" The redheaded prisoner's eyes fall on the Goblin King. "Hast thou come to aid this vile creature with my demise?"
"Sir," Jareth keeps his hard gaze on Gwyn. "You're looking well."
The man has the courage to laugh. "Aye, well enough to fend off these ruffians!" With a speed I wouldn't have imagined possible the fallen king jabs one of his guards in the ribs and lashes out to bite the other. It seems rather familiar, his outburst. Didymus wastes no time trying to wrestle his king from their grasps. He draws a small sword from the sheath at his belt and jabs it into the lady's foot causing her scream and the hounds to draw even closer.
I, however, don't have the courage to watch whatever happens next. "Jareth!" I turn from the scene and shout to sky. "I understand. I didn't even need this lesson. Please, get me out of here!" A fog is moving in from the bay and it's growing colder as the sun sinks further behind the mountains.
"Let me have him," Jareth steps toward Gwyn, his gloved hand snatching the other man's face and forcing the master of the wild hunt to look him in the eyes. Gwyn stiffens with a snarl, but he locks eyes with the Goblin King, finally.
"No."
"You are too much like a dog for your own good," Jareth smirks. "Not a pleasant type of dog either."
Gwyn laughs. It is the sound of wind smacking bare branches together, or the crackle of a bonfire on a cold evening. How was he not the natural ruler of Autumn? Maybe that was the thing, perhaps the man just claimed his rightful place in the universe with this villainy.
"You did accept my gift, after all. And, I am sure you remember that gifts among our kind are never freely given," Jareth bears his own sharp teeth in a way that could never be termed 'friendly.'
"You're pathetic," Gwyn looks down his nose at the Goblin King.
"Perhaps, but I think you must admit that my timing is in fact still perfect," Jareth replies.
"Take him, if you must. But, if I ever lay eyes on him again, he'll die at my hands."
But Gwyn doesn't do what either I or Jareth expects judging by the momentary flicker of shock that flashes across his features.
Gwyn turns toward the red-haired man, and removes the glove on his right…claw. I cringe as the claw sinks into the ex-king's throat and his scream is added to the blood-curdling voices of the hounds just before it turns to a gurgle. It happened so fast. But, the image lingers as if it's been etched onto the backs of my eyelids. The king of Autumn drops to the ground, dead.
Sir Didymus doesn't waste a moment, he leaps on Gwyn, his sharp little teeth sinking into a leather clad arm.
"No," as silly as it is, I rush toward Didymus. I am right there when Gwyn slashes a cut across the furious creature's eye. Didymus doesn't even cry out, brave little fool.
I'm going to hurl. I'm shaking with anger, fear, and revulsion as Gwyn grabs Didymus by the back of the neck and tosses the one-eyed fox to the ground. The hounds break like the surging of a tide.
"You didn't specify who you wanted to save. I'd be more careful with my words next time if I were you," Gwyn smiles as the hounds rush around him hot on Didymus's heels. "Take him, Jareth. If you can beat my dogs to him."
"Didymus!" Jareth's voice, stops the fear crazed animal in its tracks. And, Jareth is just able to scoop him up before the dogs descend. The Goblin King casts Gwyn one hateful glance before he and the fox vanish into thin air and the world goes dark around me.
I'm on my feet, the wrought iron chair crashing to the ground as I scramble away from the images still tormenting my mind. Apparently, the others are having a similar reaction.
"Gods," James mumbles from the ground, his legs tangled with those of his upset chair.
"That poor man!" Clair has tear tracks running down her dark skinned cheeks. "…the little dog! What a monster!"
"What the hell was that?" Roselyn's brown eyes are darting about the garden. The sun is gone, and only a trace of pink lingers on the horizon. An owl watches us from the branches of the willow tree.
"That is what's coming for us in three months," I say my eyes fixated on the owl who cants his head at me.
We all nearly leap out of our skin as Faust darts from under a hydrangea bush with a happy bark.
"Well," James picks himself up off the ground and rights the chair before dusting himself off, "I'd say that Sarah may have had a fair point after all."
"Right," Clair nods, "I need to get back to my house."
"As do I," Roselyn replies. "We still need to think on this problem. I'm not sure hiding the girl for one night is going to get us anywhere."
"It's better than nothing," I answer pushing my chair beneath the table as the owl launches himself from the branch and vanishes into the night sky. "But, I begin to worry that we may all be in great danger."
Roselyn's eyes meet mine as she nods grimly.
I need a cup of tea.
Poor Sir Didymus.