He knew exactly what to expect upon entering Sordel Keep, but that did not stop him from dreading the actual sight of Sajal crumpled on the bare floor of his study. Jareth pressed his lips together in a thin line and clenched his jaw as he leaned down to inspect Sajal's still form. There was a blade protruding from Sajal's chest, but there wasn't any blood spilt. Jareth narrowed his eyes. That was odd. With an easy grace he situated himself down next to Sajal and reached out a hand to him. On contact Jareth pushed out with his magic and felt the energy in the room. The walls seemed afraid;
there was no other way to describe it. An unfamiliar residue hung in the very air, but Jareth was not able to pinpoint the source. The only thing he knew for certain was that Sajal's life was gone. There was nothing to bring him back. He pulled his magic back into him and removed his hand from Sajal and took a deep breath. Not another, he thought desperately. Determination set into his face and gave him a hard, calculating look. He stood swiftly. Not another one. With that thought he disappeared back to Dorensae.

Ovster had been deep asleep when he felt a slight pull from deep within. It wasn't strong, but it was enough for him to open his eyes and glance around the room in dreaded anticipation. The bells started ringing then, and with a deep breath Ovster climbed out of bed. Damn. He pulled a robe over his body and with a spare thought lit the candles in his bedchamber. Another Immortal had passed? How could this be, he thought as he slowly walked to a desk and poured himself brandy from a decanter. In all of his long, long life he had never known anything like this to happen. It unnerved him and he swallowed the liquid down in one quick gulp. He was afraid to discover who had passed; there were only so few of them left now. It couldn't have been Jareth. Ovster wasn't completely sure, but he had to hold on to that belief for his own sanity. With a deep sigh he collapsed in his favorite leather chair. The only thing to do was wait, he'd find out the truth eventually.
His mind began to wonder and he fell into an uneasy sleep for a moment, but something awoke him. With a start his eyes opened and he looked warily in his shadowy chamber. Someone was there. From the shadows he watched Tarrence walk forward, the darkness melting away from him and Ovster's breath caught in his throat. The energy coming from the man was warped, distorted, but Tarrence just smiled.

"Hello, you old fool."

Ovster licked his lips nervously. "What have you done, Tarrence?"

"Done?" He said with mocked innocence, "Why would you think I have done anything?" When Ovster didn't immediately respond Tarrence laughed. "I'm simply making a few...managerial changes."

"Have you gone mad?" the words were weak and Ovster tried to keep his voice from trembling.

Tarrence tsked him and wagged a finger back and forth, "No, I don't think so. I think I'm seeing everything clearly." He made a step forward and with a flick of his wrist a shiny blade appeared in his closed hand.

Ovster paled. "You'll never get away with it. When the others return they will know what you have done." Tarrence had continued to approach him and had Ovster trapped in his chair.

"Others? When was the last time an Immortal returned, hmm, you old fool?" Tarrence was boasting and he enjoyed seeing the fear and shock in his old mentor's eyes.

"What have you done?" This time Ovster didn't have the strength to keep the fear from his voice and it came out in a hurried whisper.

"Nothing that you will have to worry about any longer," with that last word he effortlessly dropped the blade into Ovster's chest. The man had tried to shield himself, but Tarrence had been too fast. Ovster did not linger like Sajal, but instead just closed his eyes and let out one last breath. Tarrence smiled and was going to start the process of claiming Ovster's magic when a strangled gasp caught his attention. He stepped away from Ovster's body and noted with disdain that the magic was already leaving the blood. He had lost his chance and that made him extremely angry. There was that noise again and Tarrence turned to see a long drape by the window slightly shifting. Narrowing his eyes and using just a small trace of magic he tore the curtain down. Before him, one foot out of the window, one leg still on the ground, was a being that looked nothing more than a street urchin. Oh, but Tarrence knew better. Oh yes, he knew who this was before him. In a blink he was on the spy, pulling him back into the room and pinning him against the wall. "Hello there Piertre. It has been a long time." He sounded all the world like he was being reunited with a friend,
except he had a dangerous glint in his blue eyes.

Piertre swallowed and tried to keep his breath even, though failing. The raw energy flowing out of the man before him was suffocating his senses. "Lord Tarrence," he responded.

"What shall we do with you?" Tarrence asked leaning far too close into Piertre's face for comfort. He thought for a moment. Leaving Piertre was a liability, but maybe there was a way for him to turn this situation to his benefit. "Do you wish to live?" He asked suddenly seeing Piertre's face go white. Tarrence was pleased when Piertre gave a short nod to the question and he stepped away from the spy. "And are you willing to do something in exchange for your miserable life?"

Piertre hesitated. He did not like the implications. There could only be one thing Tarrence wanted and that would mean going against Jareth. Piertre was deeply afraid of Jareth. His eyes settled on the bleeding body of Ovster and he shivered. Then again, maybe Jareth wasn't the one to be afraid of at this moment.
With another nod of the head Piertre cast his lot with the devil.

Tarrence claped his hands together with a sort of crazy enthusiasm. "Excellent. Then, I have a message for you to deliver to our most excellent majesty."

A little earlier...

Didymus rearranged Emma more comfortably on the bed and then settled next to her holding her hand in both of his. He noticed Sarah pulling a chair over and biting her lower lip, but he did not engage with her. He was focused only on Emma. Her breathing was even and her features were calm, as if she was in nothing other than a deep sleep, but he knew better. She was in a sort of shock. The Immortals' bonds with one another was not compltely understood by the other inhabitants of the Underground, but Didymus knew one thing. If they chose to bond it was forever, and if that bond was suddenly severed the remaining partner was usually not far off in following. He could not let that happen to Emma.

"Is she going to be alright?" Sarah's soft voice asked.

He didn't look at her. "I don't know. She's still here, there's hope." With heavy eyes he glanced up at her, "I can't help her...maybe Jareth, but there's nothing I can do."

Sarah just nodded and sat back. It was only a few moments before the air gained a sort of heaviness and then dissipated and then standing beside the bed was Jareth, a closed expression on his face as he looked down on Emma. Didymus met Jareth's sorrow filled eyes. "Can you bring her back?"

Jareth winced and then rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. "I'm tempted to just let her go."

Didymus couldn't believe what he had just heard. His eyes widened and he stammered, "You can't just leave her like this Jareth!"

"You do not understand," he said through clinched teeth. "What would I be bringing her back *to*?" Jareth began to pace. Even if he did bring Emma back from the half life she was she would never be the same. Jareth was feeling the loss of the Immortals each and every time they were being taken from the world, and honestly he wondered how much more he could take before he snapped and he had not been bonded like Emma. He stopped pacing and closed his eyes, for just a moment. A soft body leaned against his, so he pulled it closer to him, laying his cheek on the top of Sarah's head.

He was about to speak when a now familiar pain crashed down on him. As if removed from himself he distantly felt himself slip to the ground and heard a cry that seemed very far away. The pain was agonizing, and it threatened to drag him under again, but Jareth was getting angry. He understood what was happening now and pulled energy from the Labyrinth and pushed against the blackness. It would not claim him this time. Before he separated himself from that void completely he heard a whisper of a voice, the words couldn't be made out, but Jareth had the distinct impression it had been a warning. With one final effort he opened his eyes and was back with himself leaning against Sarah's form. The bells began chiming in the distance and Emma thrashed weakly on the bed. Jareth began to stand, Sarah still holding on to him by the arms. Jareth stepped away from her, pretending not to see the hurt that flashed through her eyes. He would deal with that later, right now he had other pressing matters.

"Who was it?" Didymus asked as he tried to calm Emma down by making small shushing noises.

Jareth's eyes took on a steely glint. Didymus had seen that look before, but it had been a long time since it had distorted Jareth's face. Without a word Jareth vanished and Didymus began to feel a little more worried for his monarch. The last time Jareth had had that particular look on his face a thousand men died on a battle field. All at once they had suddenly dropped lifeless to the ground, all because Jareth had willed it.

Jareth barely had any control as he appeared in Ovster's bedchamber and his rage expressed itself by creating a tempest that buffeted the room. He caught sight of Ovster's form in a chair; drooping over the side, crimson liquid blood spilling to the floor. Jareth clinched his fists and was about to leave the room when he realized he was not alone. Cowering in a corner a familiar shape sat against a wall. Stepping forward he recognized Piertre and let out a small growl, "What happened here?" He took one step closer and his voice dropped dangerously low, "And if you lie to me Piertre,
there will be severe consequences."

The little boy, not the spy, looked up into his monarch's flashing eyes and cringed. He was doomed either way it seemed, but it was always better to die tomorrow than today. That thought brought him a little courage. "Its Tarrence. He's gone insane." He watched shock spread across Jareth's face and then quickly replaced with acceptance so he continued, trying to think quickly. "I came here to warn Ovster, for I knew something of his plans briefly before he struck." It was a lie, but Piertre kept rambling. "I had something to show you, over in the Wastelands. Will you take me there?"

Jareth eyed his spy with disdain. "Now you have something useful for me? A little convenient, is it not?"

For a moment Piertre thought Jareth might have seen through the lies, but then the world faded from view and he found himself in the Wastelands, an endless desert that lie far south of Dorensae. Piertre watched Jareth pace back and forth before him and shrank away from the monarch as he asked, "Now, what is it that you wish to show me?"

Piertre could say nothing. He had thought of this only as a way to distract the king, for that is all Tarrence had asked. 'Give me some time. Make up any silly lie, but keep him from returning directly to Dorensae.' so, Piertre had led them here, now he had no idea what to do.

Jareth could sense a deep unease within Piertre, and a deep dread growing within himself. What was he doing out here, and why was Piertre barely concealing outright terror? He began to ask the same question again when he felt that horrible sensation flow through his body. This time the blackness came no where close to overpowering him and instead of dispair he was filled with rage. He reached down and savagely grabbed Piertre before vanishing from the Wastes.

The sight before him as he reappeared in Emma's chambers was a little confusing and that confusion was the only thing that calmed his temper. On the bed lie Emma; cold and beautiful even in death, for Jareth knew upon entering the room that she was already gone. He could find no trace of her anyway. The room was in shambles, not only from his earlier entry, but from something else. That feeling of dread fell on him again and he looked around noticing Sarah's absence acutely. He saw Didymus sprawled on the floor, a cut on his head and Jareth made a few quick steps to his second. "Didymus," he said giving the man a slight shake of the shoulder, "Didymus, where is Sarah?"

Didymus groaned but managed to open his eyes. Jareth was leaning beside him, worry clearly expressed in his eyes. It was a much better look than he saw earlier. With a little struggle he sat up, the recent events replaying in his mind. "Tarrence was here!" He jumped to his feet. Emma! No, not Emma! The bells were chiming again and Didymus saw the lifeless body of Emma on the bed. He choked back a sob. Not his Emma. There was a slight pressure on his shoulder where Jareth placed his hand.

"Sarah, Didymus." Jareth repeated with a growing sense of urgency. "Does he have Sarah?"

Didymus couldn't bring himself to pry his eyes away from Emma. It was unnatural. Though a hilt of a blade stood out from her chest, there was no blood. That was fitting, he decided. It would not mar her beauty then. Jareth gave him another shake and Didymus found himself answering as if he were far away. "He must have. I don't know. I barely saw him before he knocked me to the floor." Didymus remembered some of that conversation and he turned towards the spy that sat still in a little ball on the ground. "Why don't you ask *that* one. Tarrence said something about Piertre's "assistance" in this little venture."

Jareth hadn't meant to lose control. He hadn't meant for the air around him to become so charged that it cracked and popped, hadn't meant for the eerie blue glow of his charged magic to surround him, and surely hadn't meant for Piertre's limp form to be thrown from the ground and into a stone ceiling before falling back down with a sickening thud. But he did mean to grab Piertre by the throat as he lifted him from the floor. "Tell me what you have done?" His voice would have startled him had he been listening to it, for it was wrapped in magic and held a deep menace, but Jareth did not hear it. Instead, he continued before Piertre could find his voice, "Beware though, Piertre, for nothing shall save you now."

Piertre accepted the finality in monarch's voice and noted the harsh expression of Didymus a few feet away. There would be no reprieve from that source, so he spoke the truth. "He did not tell me everything, my lord. Only that I was to prevent you from returning here, so that he would have time to finish his plans."

Jareth tightened his grip around Piertre's throat. "What plans?"

Gasping for breath, Piertre struggled in vain. "I don't know, your Majesty."

"Don't know, or won't tell, hmm, Piertre?" Again Jareth squeezed the boy's throat.

Spots were dancing before his eyes, but somehow Piertre managed to squeak out through his constricted windpipe, "Don't...know..." This was it, he felt the life literally being suffocated out of him, and knew it was going to happen for the deep anger in his lord's eyes had yet to vanish. He was going to die, strangled by his monarch for treason. He was ready to accept this when an unlikely voice cut through the air.

"Jareth, reconsider this." Didymus stepped a few feet closer and tried to make eye contact with the king before him.

"Why?" Was all Jareth replied, sneering down as Piertre's face took on a bright reddish hue.

Didymus hesitated. "Because...because this is not how things are done." Jareth's eyes moved from Piertre's face to Didymus' and Didymus continued thankful he had Jareth's attention.
"You'd be no better," He said softly.

Jareth thought a moment on Didymus' words and as the rationality became clearer his grip loosened on Piertre. With disgust he dropped the spy and stepped away. He calmed as the spy gasped for air and clutched at his throat and felt his magic slowly ebb back down to manageable levels. "Sometimes," he said turning to his second who was also watching the spy with a lip curled, "I quite hate your reasoning, Didymus."

Didymus gave out a small huff of breath. "What are we going to do now, Jareth?"

"For now," he said nudging Piertre with the toe of his boot, "throw this rat in the dungeons."

Didymus nodded, "And you?" He watched in slight horror as that same expression hardened Jareth's face. He may have stopped Jareth from killing Piertre, but there was still a murderous rage boiling beneath the surface and Jareth's eyes were being to smolder.

Jareth clinched his fists at his side. "I am going to get Sarah back." Those were the only words he said before vanishing from view and leaving Didymus alone with Piertre.

Didymus bent down over the boy and saw him trembling. "Oh Piertre, you are an imbecile," he said extending a hand to the disgraced spy.

He weakly accepted it and pulled himself upright, "I know, I know." They both stared at each other in silence for a moment before Piertre lowered his head in exhaustion. "So, to the dungeons?"

"Yes, to the dungeons."

Piertre shrugged and let himself be led out of the room. Imprisonment was certainly better than death. Didymus allowed one final look at Emma before exiting the ruined room and escorting the 'prisoner' down to his cell. He didn't know what the future was going to bring, but he hoped that Jareth found Sarah alive and well, for if she wasn't Didymus was afraid what would happen to the monarch. Please, let her be alright, was all he could repeat to himself.

K. This is coming to an end soon.