Chapter 6.
Jefferson was standing in the groom's waiting room in the church. He was admiring the handsome figure he cut when he became aware of something. At first he was not certain what it was, but he knew something was off. The hair at the nape of his neck had begun to tingle, and then the air went all too still. He turned to his best man to ask if he noticed something amiss when he realized time in the mortal frame had been paused. "Damn it," he cursed violently. "Who's messing with my special day and my plans?" He stalked past the frozen figure of his best man and out into the church proper, his father was already on his way to the groom's room. "What do you know about this," he demanded hotly.
"Watch your manners," warned the senior Daniels icily. "This is something only Royals can do, and only under precise circumstances." He looked at the church full of guests awaiting a bride and a splashy wedding. "This feels like the work of one Royal, and if it is, you've got more trouble than you ever planned for."
"Who," Jefferson demanded once more.
"This kind of temporal freeze happens on the mortal plan only when someone has been wished away… to the goblins." Ridge Daniels informed his offspring, turning to look at the frozen figure of his mortal wife.
"How can you be so sure," questioned the young Halfling. "It's been years since you were last in contact with those on the other side of the mists."
Chuckling under his breath, Ridge looked back at his son with sardonic mirth. "Some things one never forgets, boy." Reaching into the vest of his expensive Armani Tux, Ridge removed something from his inner pocket of his vest. The object was small, oval and shinny, a scry glass. "Reveal," he said with authority. The glass in his hand fogged before it began to show images of what had transpired.
Sarah moved to the hall where she picked up the extension to speak with her groom, "Jeff this had better be important," she warned. "I'm swamped here, and the photographer will be here any moment now."
Jeff laughed carelessly; "Sweetheart, this is very important," his voice was confident and robust. "You'd better pack that extra bag we talked about; we're going to be extending the wedding trip… I've received a rather prestigious invitation from the governor of Virginia!"
"How nice for you," Sarah sighed, not really as impressed as she knew she should be; "When?"
"Right after we return from Spain," he said still feeling pleased with himself, "Straight through to when we are due at my parents for the Thanksgiving Holidays."
Sarah, unaware that Toby was in the hall watching and listening, pursed her lips and stated in a very flat manner. "That won't work for me, Jeff. I promised Toby I'd be at his holiday recital, you know that."
Toby's body stiffened just as the first rumble of thunder sounded over head. His eyes began to narrow, and his lips thinned to a hard line. From where he stood he could clearly hear the voice of Sarah's groom on the phone. Toby always felt the man spoke much louder than he need to, all to be noticed and taken seriously. Toby's dislike of Jefferson was igniting to hate.
"Oh come on Sarah, surely he has enough attention from your father and his wife." Jeff sounded slightly annoyed. "I'm talking the governor! This is much more important than some silly school pageant."
"Jeff, I gave my word, and my word still means something to me," Sarah said and looked up as the shadows changed in the hall. The light from the window shifted, and Sarah saw the dark clouds rolling in. "Just great," she muttered. "Jeff couldn't we go to the Governor's mansion after Toby's recital?"
"No," Jeff said harshly. "I've already accepted for us."
"Well I already told Toby I'm attending his recital," Sarah countered. "And I made the engagement long before you got this invitation."
"He'll just have to understand," Jeff sluffed off the boy's sure to be hurt feelings. "Some things are more important than his recital."
"That's not fair," Sarah said, regretting the words as they exploded out of her lips.
"Life's not fair, time that spoiled brat learned that Sarah." Jeff stated without concern, "You and your parents baby the hell outta that kid, and it's time he learned a few facts of life. I've accepted and that's that. I'll see you in the church," the line went dead.
"Jeff, Jeff…" Sarah shook the receiver at the ceiling and the rumbling overhead. "Damn it!" Turning she saw Toby, "Not now," she warned as she stalked back to her room. Linda had gone down to greet the photographer; an old friend of hers was doing this shoot as a favor. Sarah could hear the voices of her mother and stepmother down in the foyer.
Toby followed Sarah into the bedroom, just as the lights began to flicker and the skies darken in earnest. "Sarah, you promised," he growled. "You promised you'd be at the recital."
Stressed and angry, Sarah stomped her foot, "Toby, not now!"
"Yes, now," he argued reaching for her arm. "Are you going to be there?"
"I want to," Sarah said pulling her arm free as the first bolt of lighten flashed. She looked at the rattling windows, now why did that strike a chord? The rain pelted the windows in long hard sheets.
"Want to shamon-to…" her brother railed. "Are you going to keep your promise?"
Wanting to pull her hair out, and to rip off the gown, Sarah backed away from the boy and his coming tantrum. "I may not be able to," she admitted feeling a sense of defeat that was foreign to her being.
"You lied to me!" he screamed.
Linda and Karen both heard the scream down in the foyer, and looked at one another. The photographer looked up at the stairs before looking at the shocked faces of the two women.
"No, I didn't," Sarah railed right back. "When I said I'd be there, I really thought I could be…Toby, you don't understand…"
"I hate you," Toby pulled off his tux jacket, throwing it to the floor and stomping on it. "And I hate this stupid wedding! And most of all I hate that stupid man you're going to marry."
"Toby," his mother's voice came from the stairs. "Toby what are you doing?"
Glaring at Sarah, he extended his hand, his index finger wagging in the flashing of lightening. "I hate you Sarah, and I wish the Goblins would come and take you away… right now!"
Sarah blinked; she knew those words all too well. "Toby…no…" she looked up as the lights flickered and went off. Sarah felt the flickering electricity in the air and screamed.
Lightning flashed and thunder hammered the air. Toby gave out with a high-pitched screech of his own, the storm raged on over Sarah's house. The clouds boiled. Rain lashed the leaves on the trees. Thunder was followed by lightning.
Toby was listening. What he heard was an unnatural silence within the room. Sarah had stopped screaming so suddenly it scared her brother. He looked back to where she had been standing only a moment ago. The bedside light was out. "Sarah?" he called to her softly. She did not respond. There was no sound coming from within the room or from out in the hall, no sound at all coming from anywhere inside the house. The only sound was coming from the large French windows and the storm outside.
A white owl was flapping insistently on the glass; Toby could see the light from the landing reflected in its great, round, dark eyes, watching him intently. The whiteness of its plumage was illuminated by a series of lightning flashes that seemed continuous. Behind him, a goblin briefly raised his head, and ducked down again. Another did likewise both snickered and jeered. Toby didn't seem them; his eyes were fixed, locked on the owl's eyes.
Lightning crackled and flashed again, and this time it distracted him attention from the window by shining on the clock that stood on the mantelpiece; he saw that the hands were at thirteen o'clock. He blinked and was staring distractedly at the clock when he felt something nudge the back of his legs. He glanced down; something was moving across the carpet on scaly legs like a lizard's, with talons for toes. Toby's lips parted, but made no sound.
Behind him, something snickered. He spun around and saw it duck down again behind the chest of drawers. Shadows were scuttling across the walls. Goblins were prancing and bobbing behind him. Toby was watching the chest of drawers. Like the thing on the floor, it had a scaly, clawed foot at each corner, and it was dancing. Sarah's dresser and vanity were also dancing wildly .Even the tux jacket he had thrown on the floor was scurrying away.
Toby wheeled around, mouth open, hands clenched, and saw the goblins cavorting. They ducked away into the shadows, to evade his eyes .He looked for something that would serve as a weapon. In the corner of the bride's room was an old prop broom that had been used by Sarah in a play. Toby took it and advanced upon the goblins. "Go away. Go away," he demanded, trying to sweep them up, but the handle of the broom twisted in his hands and slithered out of his grasp.
The storm wind rose to a pitch. Lightning made daylight in the room, and scared faces suddenly began to vanish into cupboards, drawers, or down the cracks between floorboards. As the thunder boomed and the wind shook the curtains, a blast of air blew the window open violently. Between the fluttering curtains the white owl entered.
Toby wrapped his arms around his face, protectively and cried out. He felt the wind blowing his hair around, but the flapping had ceased. Between fingers he peeked out, to see where the bird was perched. Perhaps it had flown out again. A prolonged crackling of lightning was throwing a giant shadow on the wall facing the window. It was the shadow of a human figure. Toby pirouetted around as if in slow motion, with a grace he had no knowledge of.
Silhouetted against the stormy sky was a man, a vaguely familiar man. He wore a cloak, which swirled in the wind. Toby could see that his hair was shoulder-length and blond, the same shade that Toby's hair was. There was something else about his hair, its wild cut was familiar and Toby fought the urge to reach out and touch the strands that seemed to float on the air. Something glinted about this stranger's neck, an amulet of some kind; more than that he could not see in the dim light.
"Uh ...," Toby cleared his throat having for a moment forgotten all about Sarah. "Who are you?"
"Don't you know?" The man's voice was calm, almost kindly. Lightning traced the veins of the sky and lit up his face. He was not smiling, as one might smile on greeting a stranger, nor was his expression fierce. His eyes were fixed upon Toby's with an intensity he found compelling. When he took a step toward the boy, into the light shining from the doorway, Toby did not retreat. If his eyes and voice had not hypnotized him, the golden chain around his neck might have. A sickle-shaped ornament hung from it, upon his chest. His shirt was black, loose-sleeved, with silken cuffs at the wrist. Over it he wore a tight, black breastplate of armor. He was shod in black boots, over fitted black breeches, and on his hands were black gloves, soft well worn leather. His cloak attached to his shoulders and there was a high collar on the black as midnight garment. Accompanying him was a very strong scent, one that lingered like spices and fresh air. Surrounding him was a swirl of some sparkly glittery substance that as soon as it touched the floor or walls vanished.
"I ...," Toby answered. "I ..." The humming that he had thought he heard in the air was now quite distinct, and musical. The stranger smiled at his hesitancy, Toby had not expected that. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. "You're ... him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King..."
The glass went dark; as it did it began to vibrate violently, Ridge placed his free hand over it to settle the secreted possession. "Your bride is no long available," the father advised the son. He didn't sound disturbed or upset, he sounded as calm as a glassy sea. "You'd best look elsewhere."
"Hog wash," Jefferson spat. "You think I'm going to sit back and allow some second rate Fae King muck with my well laid plans?" He slapped a hand down to the altar rail, "I can't believe that brat wished his sister away. Spoiled little bastard!"
"Something you should know," Ridge advised coolly, "A few years back I heard tell of a girl who had attracted the attentions of the Goblin King… it's said she is the only person to ever reach the center of his Labyrinth…"
"And," Jefferson rolled his eyes impatiently. His father had a habit of drawing out a story, and he was not in the mood for one of his "Fae Tales".
"If what I heard was true, and I suspect it was~ your Sarah is that very girl," Ridge shrugged.
"You say you heard this story, "Jeff growled with dark intent, "So you must still have contacts on that side."
"A few," Ridge admitted, seeing no reason to lie.
"I suggest you get a hold of someone who can put us on that side," Jeff locked his jaw. "I'm going to issue a complaint against this… Goblin King!"
Amused by his son's ignorance of the Fae realms, Ridge chuckled darkly. "I'm afraid you don't understand," he waved to the stupefied congregation. "Young Toby wished his sister away, but must have had second thoughts, hence the suspended state of your guests. You see each wisher is given a choice, they can either accept a gift in exchange for the person they wished away~" Ridge moved with a grace that mere mortal men had forgotten long ago. "Or they can run the Labyrinth in an effort to win back the wished away." He paused, looked at his mortal wife and sighed. "Young Toby must be in the Labyrinth… and until his time has run out or he succeeds everything in this real will remain suspended."
"I don't see how that has anything to do with my issuing a complaint!" Jefferson barked.
"Sarah is in the castle of the Goblin King… her…" Ridge explained losing some of his humor. "Foe… you heard the Goblin King, Toby delivered her to him, and he didn't seem interested in even allowing the boy to run."
"Father," Jefferson huffed. "You don't expect me to allow…" He paused, annoyed. "I would still like to make my case to whoever is in the seat of power."
Ridge sighed, placed one elegant hand behind his back, "That would be Oberon."
"Is there a way for us to… call him up or reach him?" the younger man asked.
The father of the groom didn't appear happy, "There is a way," he said with reluctance. "However once you ask the High King to intervene, you'll be stuck with his decision." He held out his hand, placing it on his son's sleeve. "More importantly, the High King will know of your existence and you will be under his authority." He cautioned, "Think it over, Jefferson… there will be no going back."
"Sarah and I are getting married today," Jefferson said firmly. "Now what do we do?"
Inclining his head, Ridge motioned for the younger man to follow him out of the church to the court yard. "This cannot be done in a church… hallowed ground and all…" he led him just outside the church yard into the wooded area beyond. Once clear of the sacred grounds, the older Daniels reached once more into his vest; he withdrew a stone, a clear glowing stone on a fine sliver chain. He held it extended and said something in a language that Jefferson was not familiar with. A portal opened, and the father motioned his son to follow him.
--
Oberon was seated in the arbor his face tranquil and full of grace, listening to one of his minions reciting. "That's very nice Mustardseed," he praised when the recital ended. He applauded politely, though he'd not heard much beyond the first sentence. Oberon understood that most of his subjects were trying their best to keep him amused. He looked over at his wife Tatiana with her painted on smile that didn't reach her lovely eyes. "We both thank you." Rising he extended a hand to her, expecting that the court would take that as a cue to disperse. He was the only one to hear her exhale of relief, the rest of the court was distracted by the appearance of strangers at the back of the room.
Glancing toward the ruckus Tatiana's face blanched, "Ridge," she whispered.
Oberon turned, the hand extended to his wife dropped, as did his jaw. "Ridge," the name came out like an angry utterance.
The High Queen of the Fae touched her husband's arm, "Who is that with him?"
"I don't know," Oberon whispered back now standing as majestically as he'd ever done, facing a man who was once his closest brother in arms. "Ridge Woodbine," he addressed the returning outcast icily.
The man in the expensive Armani tuxedo walked up the main aisle with a calm expression on his handsome face, "My Lord High King," his voice didn't trembled or waver, "You're looking well." He bowed slightly toward the woman at the High King's side. "Your Majesty," he addressed her politely; "Your servant."
The younger man raised a brow while he kept silent, but the upraised brow was observed by Oberon, and marked. "How is it we have the pleasure of your company, Woodbine?" he addressed the elder of the pair approaching. Tatiana slowly descended back to the seat she'd been occupying. The High King would have liked to have the luxury to seeing to her, but he wasn't always able to do as he wished. Being High King meant he had responsibility and obligations.
Ridge Daniels smiled, "Woodbine," he mused gently, "A name I've not been called a good many years. I'm known as Ridge Daniels in the mortal realm," he announced blithely as he motioned the younger man forward. "This is my son, Jefferson."
It was Tatiana's turn to drop her jaw, "Your son," she studied the arrogant young man moving forward.
Ridge regretted causing the woman distress or anxiety, sighing he addressed the High King. "My son comes to petition you, Sire."
Oberon didn't react to her outburst; he was too busy observing the newcomer. Resuming his throne, the High King motioned the pair to approach.
Jefferson bowed to the High King, not even thinking about the woman on the dais. "Sire." He addressed him with measured respect.
Oberon was sure there was a touch of sarcasm in the boy's tone, but overlooked it, "What is it you need from me young Woodbine?"
Bristling, Jefferson answered, "My name is Daniels, Jefferson Davis Daniels," there was arrogance and confidence in the young man. "What I seek from you is justice!"
"I see," Oberon seemed amused, while his queen was not. "I take it than you are ready to concede to me as a subject."
"No," Jefferson answered blandly, "However the one I've a complaint against does bow to your authority." He was removing his gloves, and held them tightly in one hand.
Tatiana stood, "He's human," she gasped before she turned to accuse the elder of the pair. "You sired a human!"
"Half human," Ridge corrected calmly.
"An abomination," she spat out violently. "You could have married my sister, instead you prefer a…. mortal?"
"Your sister and I didn't make good company," Ridge said politely. "My wife on the other hand is excellent company."
"Send this abomination away!" the Fairy Queen demanded of her husband.
"My good woman," Oberon addressed her with mild irritation, "He's a Halfling, therefore he still has standing in our kingdom… or would you have me exile every Halfling?" The Fairy Queen was quickly silenced; she herself had Halfling children and would protect them with her dying breath. She sat down and closed her eyes. Oberon looked away from her and back to the young man. "You said you've a complaint; who is it against?"
"The Goblin King," Jefferson said coldly.
Oberon looked over at Ridge, "Jareth," he questioned. "What has Jareth done to you?"
"He stole my bride!" Jefferson raged.
"Impossible," huffed the Fairy Queen leaning back and looking beyond annoyed. "The Goblin King cannot steal a baby let alone a bride." She glared at Ridge, "Haven't you taught this child of yours anything of us?"
"I tell you he stole her away, just hours before our wedding!" Jefferson snapped waspishly at the Queen. Ridge cleared his throat and the younger man backed down. "My father and I left our guests in a state of suspended animation in the church."
Oberon edged forward, "Your guests were suspended… that would mean a runner in the Labyrinth..."
"So my father informed me," Jefferson glowered. "However, I protest this entire fiasco! I mean really, a child wishes his elder sister away on her wedding day and this goblin King just whisks her off… no… not my bride to be!" He pointed a finger at the High King, "I know a thing or two about law, mortal and Fae… and I demand that you order your Goblin King to return my bride!" Before the High King could answer him he snarled. "I won't have Sarah spending time with … goblins!"
Oberon gasped, "Sarah." The High Queen began to cackle. Oberon fought the urge to join her. "Do you mean to tell me your intended is Sarah Williams?"
"Indeed…" Jefferson replied with haughtiness that was uberFae. "We'd be saying our I do's right not if it were not for her spoiled little brother~"
"Toby," Oberon said under his breath.
"Yes," Jefferson answered unaware that the High King was no longer paying attention. "That miserable little… monster."
"That miserable little monster is rather special to the Goblin King," The Fairy Queen said with icy accuracy.
"Then he's welcome to him," snapped the young Halfling man; "Soon as I have my bride back."
"I cannot help you," Oberon sighed. "Once a runner is in the Labyrinth it is out of my hands."
"Is that so," Jefferson regarded the man on the throne with contemptuous eyes. "I see… well since you will do nothing, I'll have to do something about this myself." Electricity formed a dangerous aura about the man. "You could have prevented bloodshed!" Jefferson Davis Daniels stormed out and headed toward the court yard of the grand palace of the High King.
Ridge looked over at Oberon, "I tried to warn him." He said quietly.
"You'd better keep an eye on your son," Oberon sighed, "While I go warn mine."
Bowing to the High King and Queen, Ridge Woodbine Daniels pivoted and exited.
--
Out side the palace, Jefferson closed his eyes and concentrated, mind over matter. "Show me the boy," he growled to himself. An image formed in his mind, that of a golden haired blue eyed child in a rented tux being accompanied by a dwarf through a maze. Jefferson spread his arms, "Take me to the boy," he commanded and vanished.
Ridge arrived just in time to see the last sparkle dissipate. "Oh dear," he said in a long sigh. His long fingers reached into his jacket for his scry glass. "Show me where he's gone," he commanded. Seeing the unmistakable background, Ridge knew, "Fool boy," he uttered. "No one goes into the Labyrinth uninvited." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Jefferson, have you forgotten everything I've taught you?" He rubbed the glass and ended the image.