"Sarah!" screamed Toby, abandoning the game of stack-the-chickens he was playing with some goblins in a corner of the throne room. He launched himself into her arms, almost knocking her over. "I knew King Jareth would bring you. I knew it!"
Sarah smiled and hugged him tight, but it clearly took serious effort for her to remain standing. At her side, the Goblin King anchored her with an arm firmly tucked beneath her shoulders, pressing on her back. "Toby," she whispered, stroking his hair.
"Merry Christmas, Sarah! What did you get me?" Toby pulled away to jump excitedly up and down. His small, sneaker-clad feet stirred up clouds of dust and chicken feathers and caused many smaller goblins to quickly scuttle backward lest they be stomped upon.
"I -"
"I got you something! Want to see?" Toby raced over to a fat, squatting goblin with tufts of mud-colored fur sprouting out of it in very unusual places. The goblin had Toby's backpack looped around one arm and was nibbling experimentally on the straps. "Excuse me, Furpot," said Toby politely, snatching the somewhat soggy pack and gingerly unzipping it. Dozens of eyes watched him as he rummaged inside, tongue pushed beneath his upper lip in concentration. "Ah ha!" he said at last.
The Goblin King had escorted Sarah to his throne, it being the only real seat in the overcrowded room. Once he saw her settled and was sure she would not fall out, he turned to Toby. "Tobias," he said, in a tone that instantly hushed the other occupants of the room, "Sarah is unwell. I want you to stay with her here while I...take care of a few things." He removed his long coat and turned back to drape it over Sarah, who had slumped down against the side of the mammoth seat and appeared to be sleeping.
Toby bounced over to them, a small bag clutched in his hand. "Look, Sarah, I got -" He stopped next to the throne, eyes going wide. He looked up at the Goblin King, now perched as improbably as a cat on one of the chair's long, curved sides. "Is she okay?"
Jareth looked down his long nose at the small boy, and barred his teeth in a wicked grin. "Come now, Tobias. Why the worry? You don't imagine that the Lord of the Labyrinth would let any harm come to your sister, do you?" His fierce expression was somewhat ruined by the broad wink he offered.
Toby shook his head solemnly. "She doesn't trust you, and she says things aren't always what they seem in this place."
Jareth cocked his head to one side as though considering Toby's words. One hand reached up and twisted a piece of long, white-gold hair around one finger in a gesture so reminiscent of Sarah when she studied that Toby had to giggle.
The Goblin King smiled -warmly this time- and his gaze moved to the sleeping woman. "As it so happens, she's right, but nevertheless..." He reached down and gently moved a strand of hair away from her face. "...I swear to you that no harm will come to her while she is in my kingdom." He turned back to Toby. "What say you? Fair?"
It was Toby's turn to consider. "Well, you did promise me that you'd try to bring Sarah here for Christmas..." He reached out and gently patted his sister on the arm. "So...all right." With a grin, he wheeled about and plunged back into the mass of chattering goblins, intent on more rambunctious fun.
Jareth swept his gaze over the throng, nodded to himself, and faded from sight.
Toby played intently, though every few minutes he detached himself from his friends and checked on his sister.
Curled in the ivory throne, Sarah slept on.
Hoggle swept the last piece of crumbled Vine into the large dustpan that Gi held for him. He still couldn't believe it had been that easy.
Gi straightened, letting the pan sit on the floor. She stretched her arms high over her head and smiled at her cranky companion. "This calls for something. A celebration."
Hoggle snagged the dustpan and emptied it into a black, plastic garbage bag. Putting garden clippings in plastic made no sense - like studding burr-beetle dung with crystal. No wonder the Goblin King didn't want to spend much time Above; this world was crazier than his second cousin's pet pinch-worm.
While he worked, he watched the blue-haired girl from beneath his bushy eyebrows. He was struck by a sudden vision of the two of them in his garden back home, sipping warm ale beneath the flowering Fairy-Bane; Gi barefoot and laughing. His eyes wandered down to the vicinity of her ankles, sadly hidden beneath the long hem of her jeans. He couldn't help but wonder... "What?" He blinked and looked up.
Gi grinned. "I said...this calls for a celebration. Let's go get donuts! What do you say?"
Hoggle was still trying to piece together her meaning. The vision of her in the Labyrinth kept getting in his way, confusing him. "Donuts?" he said.
Gi gently pried the garbage bag from his hands and set it beside the door. Grabbing her purse off the hook she took his arm and steered him outside. "My treat. You'll love 'em. Go great with coffee."
Hoggle allowed himself to be led, still feeling bewildered. "Coffee?"
The King of the Goblins crouched like a cat at the rim of the pit. Sweat dripped from his forehead and other exposed areas, pooling in the hollow of his throat and eventually running downward, plastering his loose shirt to his torso. He couldn't have removed his breeches if he'd tried.
He was deep below the castle in a place the goblins called C'em-re-tog: the cesspool of magic. It was as hot as a furnace, but unlike true fire, the heat generated within its rosy depths did little to purify. Instead, it collected the refuse of tens of thousands of little magics, hoarding them, blending them, melting them together until their original form was lost. Nothing lived down here, save one plant whose creeping tendrils traced their collective roots to deep within its fiery bowels: The Sacred Vine kept the fire fed, drawing out magic wherever it bloomed and delivering it via deep and twisted channels to the source of its life -to the pit itself.
Once, years ago, he had drawn on that pool of elemental magic. He'd thought to go unnoticed, skimming off the thinnest of layers and spinning it into shimmering thread which he'd then gifted to...a friend.
It hadn't ended well.
Though the magic had lain dormant in Sarah for half a dozen years, it had eventually awoken and when it did, it took a shape that the King of the Goblins had not -could not- have predicted. The resulting imbalance had threatened to destroy the Labyrinth and all its denizens and only by stripping Sarah of her magic had that balance been restored*...or so he'd believed.
It would seem now that once again, he'd been too hasty in his conclusions.
He was faced with an impossible task: he must locate and destroy the branch of Labyrinthaceae that had somehow managed to snake its way Above. Failing that, there was only one option.
If the Sacred Vine could not be severed from Sarah's world then he would have no choice. He would have to keep her Underground - with him -forever.
Sarah fought to wake.
Her dreams had been saturated with depravity and magic, pain and pleasure, and they clung to her conscious mind like sticky, black tar, sucking her backward into nightmarish oblivion. And there were whispers...
Nobody wants to be on the bottom...Shiny! Ooh, so shiny!... Raise 'er up, c'mon...watch 'er feet!
Sarah moaned, twisting violently in the throne. The Goblin King's coat slid to the floor, covering two small goblins that had fallen asleep at the foot of the great seat. It was deep night, and most in the crowded room now slept, including two sentries posted at the door who leaned one against the other, their snores coming in great waves which shook them in their armor. Toby had kept watch as long as his eyes would let him, but eventually his lids grew heavier and heavier until he collapsed in a weary heap amidst some of his furrier subjects.
Don't let go!... Look out!...Hold her! Hold her!...Easy, easy...make it good...
"Let go!" Sarah's eyes flew open even as her body was rolling sideways, falling from the high seat to land on a lumpy pile which groaned, lurched and finally sneezed.
Sarah threw herself backwards, narrowly avoiding cracking her head on the raised dais. Her eyes were wild, only half-focused on the room before her, but still half in her dream as well. Her hands scraped along her arms as though trying to dislodge dozens of invisible hands, while her head shook back and forth, hair whipping into a tangle.
"Sarah!" Toby woke, roughly shoving aside a blanket of goblin limbs in his haste to reach his sister's side. "Sarah, it's okay...Sarah!"
But with a fierce cry and a wild expression, Sarah lurched forward, stumbling to her feet and pushing past goblins -some sleeping and some painfully woken by the jabs of their brethren as they attempted to get out of her way - to throw herself against the heavy wood of the throne room doors. The latch was old, and largely ornamental; it held for a moment or two, then gave way beneath the pressure of her fists and arms, opening wide and spilling her into the darkness beyond.
Toby was hampered by his small size and the confusion of half-asleep goblins all climbing over each other and falling backward onto the floor.
"Move! Let me through!" Sleep gone, fun forgotten, an increasingly agitated Toby finally managed to clamber atop a large goblin and use its shoulders as a springboard to launch himself onto another, equally large goblin. In this fashion, moving from goblin to goblin, he eventually made his way to the gaping doorway. "Sarah!"
Beyond the threshold of the throne room, the outer antechamber was wreathed in inky shadows; only one tiny candle, flickering in a frosted wall sconce, provided light. Toby, ever fearful of the dark, hung back, loathe to enter. "Sarah!" he wailed again, and his lower lip trembled.
Again and again he called, but there was no answer.
She was gone.
*Author's Note: These events were recounted in "Easter Parade"; click on my profile page to find a direct link to this story and earlier installments.