Author's Note: Two chapter's today because y'all deserve it!
Chapter Two: Welcome Committee
She was standing at the top of a hill, under a stunted tree, beneath an orange sky. It was the same one Sarah had stood on five years ago; of course it was. She had been here again a few times since, meeting her friends for the occasional adventure. They always travelled away from the Labyrinth and the castle at its centre, exploring the tamer parts of the Goblin Kingdom. But it had been a long time. Two years, she thought, since her last visit. A couple of months before she left for college.
Sarah started walking down the hill without thinking, without looking, but almost immediately skidded to a halt. The air was wrong, thick and foggy, and she could smell salt and something else, like an oyster bar left alone in the sun. Much of the Labyrinth had crumbled into dust six years ago, leaving an empty plain which quickly became a forest. She looked up and opened her mouth in surprise; the hill now led to a cliff, and beyond that cliff was a sultry grey ocean. Its surface rippled like a pot about to boil, waves occasionally breaking into foamy crests and sprays of spittle. Several miles from the shore a tower rose, black against the orange sky.
"Thirteen hours", a deep voice said behind her. Sarah spun around, clutching the baseball bat tightly. "Would it be terribly rude to say I hope you fail?"
"Rude, but not unusual." It wasn't Jareth, but another Fae man. She looked him up and down; he was tall, almost gangly, and very handsome, with high cheekbones and a feminine jaw. He had Jareth's slanting eyebrows and strange eyes, boring into her from his olive-skinned face. There were two others, a man and a woman, he so pale as to be almost transparent and she with dark skin and a high forehead. They all wore white robes embroidered with black veins of lightning.
"As you are yourself most unusual, you will forgive me if I do not take you by your word." He narrowed his eyes slightly and frowned. "You're pretty enough, I suppose, though that only explains the want, not the outcome."
"I'd better not be on the clock right now, because honestly..." Sarah tapped her foot.
The Fae woman waved her hand and a familiar clock appeared.
"Alright, what am I doing here? Where am I going?" Sarah asked.
"A Trial by Champion was requested", the woman said, "and you were chosen to serve. You have thirteen hours – starting now – to reach the Tower Across the Sea, or the prisoner will die."
"Prisoner?"
"An old friend of yours, as I'm sure you know." The first Fae man gestured to the spire, so many miles away. "He should have been killed long ago. He should have been killed now. I was outvoted."
"Do you mean- who is he?" Sarah looked back over her shoulder at the edge of the cliff, then out to where the Fae pointed.
"You know perfectly well who he is. Although I do wish he could here you say that," he smirked, "it would offend him so to hear you barely remember him."
"You are very unhelpful," Sarah huffed, "and I am going to leave now. So you can just... shove it."
She turned and stomped away towards the edge of the cliff. She knew far better by now than to try and get anything useful out of eldritch creatures. She knew exactly the sparkly tyrant she had been summoned to rescue, even without that sub-par confirmation.
"Good luck, Sarah Williams. Do try not to drown." His voice faded away behind her.
"Alright, Sarah," she said to herself, "you're on the edge of a cliff, in a strange land, you have to cross an ocean to rescue a cute despot you met when you were fourteen, and you're armed with a baseball bat and a Zippo lighter."
That was still more than she'd had with her the first time. And at least there could only be so many surprises in the ocean. No gropey holes to fall down, no swamps, no creepy creatures with detachable heads. Just a load of salt water. And possibly sharks.
Sarah stood as close to the edge of the cliff as she could manage and peered down. The cliff face was mostly clay, with brittle weeds growing in the gaps. She knew what she was looking for: something which looked like nothing. There, a little way down, catching the light a little differently: stone steps, leading from the top of the cliff a few feet away and sloping down to the waves.
She scurried across the top of the cliff to the top of the stairs, trying not to let the wind blow her away. They steps were narrow and shallow, designed for a much smaller thing than her; she inched downwards, her back to the cliff. It took what seemed like an age, and Sarah knew she was wasting time, but she knew if she went too quickly she would fall.
Finally she made it to the bottom. There was a small strip of sand right at the base, barely two feet across. There were no waves here, just the edge of the grey water. She dipped the toe of her boot in cautiously; nothing happened.
"Ok, Sarah, solve the riddle." She ran her hand across the cliff, feeling for some kind of lever or doorway. Her lacerated fingertips reopened on the rough rock, leaving a streak of blood. Sarah swore softly; it was never a good idea to shed blood when there was magic present.
There was a low mumbling from the cliff face and a crack opened, shooting up from the sand. A pale blue rowboat shot out of the gap and Sarah quickly stumbled into the water after it. She stood up to her knees in the freezing brine, holding onto the edge of the vessel.
"Yes, alright, good, a blood-boat." She started climbing into it when there was another rumbling sound from the cliff, and a chunk of clay landed with a splash in the water beside her. The crack was spreading rapidly, sending chunks of the cliff hurtling into the sea.
"Oh, good." Sarah said sarcastically, pulling herself into the boat and grabbing the oars. She started rowing, immediately regretting not trying to bring Sam with her. Sam was on the rowing team. The national championship rowing team. She gritted her teeth and pulled.