Seven

Chapter 8: The Greatest Prison

Jareth's body pulsed and burned. His skin felt singed and raw. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were heavy, his lashes matted with grit. When he finally managed to open his eyes, the light flooded in, sending sharp daggers into his forehead. He closed his eyes again and moaned.

"Jareth?" Sarah called from somewhere in the dark. "Are you awake?"

He groaned in reply and felt her warm hand brush against his clammy cheek.

"Look at me, my love," she told him. With effort, he pried his eyes open again and looked up into her face. She smiled down at him, her eyes sparkling.

"I thought you were dead," she said, relief apparent in her voice.

Jareth groaned again as he tried to move and Sarah laid a hand upon his chest. "Shhh..." she said. "Lie still. You're hurt."

"I'm fine," he managed to utter. He painfully pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. He was still in the sorceress's chambers. Somehow, he'd ended up in her enormous bed.

"What happened?" he asked her.

The sorceress shook her head. "I'm not certain," she answered. "You sang the song and then you collapsed. My imps put you in the bed and I've been tending to you. I was afraid..." Her voice faded out and she looked away.

Jareth reached out his hand and laid it over hers. "Thank you," he whispered.

"I've sent for a Healer," Sarah told him. "He will know what to do for you."

"What about my challenge?" Jareth asked.

Sarah tried not to let him see her frown. He was still determined to continue, despite what had happened. She knew she should rejoice that the final riddles were close to being answered. Their completion would release her, but if she failed to maintain control over her mortal captive, he would have the power to destroy her. She had witnessed the surge of power that had overwhelmed him the night before. He was changing, becoming more than human, more than mortal.

Sarah gave him a weak smile. "Tonight you will sing a song of the greatest prison," she said. "But for now, you must rest and let my Healer attend you."

Jareth opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by three loud knocks on the door.

"That will be the Healer," she told Jareth before turning toward the door. "Come," she called.

The heavy door creaked open and an ancient man slowly shuffled in. He was human in appearance, short, with a wizened face, and long white trailing whiskers under a large nose. He wore a ragged cloak that dusted the floor as he walked, spectacles atop his brow and a bird-shaped hat on his head. The hat looked around as the old man entered the room.

"This place gives me the heebie-jeebies," it squawked.

"Quiet," huffed the Healer. "We have a patient."

"Hmph!" grunted the hat. "You never have any patience for me." It laughed at its pun and the old man rolled his eyes and sighed.

Jareth watched the pair in wonder, the old man advancing toward the bed at a snail's pace and the hat bobbing back and forth and reacting to its surroundings. The hat looked up at imps roosting near the ceiling and balked.

"Whatever you're feeding your bats, you should stop," it told the sorceress. She made no reply, but her icy glare was enough to silence the chatty hat. It settled down nervously onto the old man's head.

"I need you to tend to this man, Wiseman," Sarah told the Healer. "He has been injured. I know little of mortals, but you do, do you not?"

The Healer nodded and slowly hobbled toward the bed. He stood over Jareth and carefully looked him over from head to toe. Jareth watched as the old man's eyes narrowed and widened, his brow furrowing, his mouth pursing thoughtfully. Finally, he grunted and turned to Sarah.

"I can mend him," he told her gruffly. "However, you must leave us."

The sorceress raised an eyebrow and regarded him suspiciously, but didn't argue. "Very well," she replied. Gathering her cloak around her, she leaned down and kissed Jareth's lips. "Be well, my love," she whispered to him before turning and leaving the room.

When she had gone, the hat laughed and made kissing noises. "What was all that about?" it chuckled.

"Never you mind," the Healer snapped at his hat. "We must take care of our young patient." He reached out a hand and touched Jareth's chest with a long, shriveled finger. Jareth flinched and pushed the old man's hand away.

"I'm fine," he protested. "I appreciate your assistance, but I really am all right."

The Wiseman groaned. "You do not even know what you are, young man."

"I am Jareth. I'm a musician. A human."

"You may be Jareth the musician," the old man drawled, "but you are far from human. The transforming magic is strong. It would have destroyed you if you had not had Youth and stubbornness on your side. Somehow you survived the surge."

Jareth stared at the ancient figure in stunned silence.

"Wh—what do you mean?" he stammered at last.

"He means you aren't just a little flesh-puppet anymore," the hat chattered. It turned its funny head sideways and studied him. "He's right," the hat continued. "You're on your way to being a full-fledged-"

"Be quiet!" bellowed the Healer. The bird-hat grunted and stuck its beak in the air.

"What am I?" Jareth asked, panic rising in his chest.

The old man leaned in close to where his patient rested propped against the pillows. "You are more than you realize," he whispered. "You feel the power, do you not?"

Jareth nodded. He did feel the power. It grew stronger every day. It was a torrent within him as he lay in bed with the Healer hovering over him. His skin hummed with it.

The old man frowned and moved back, seating himself in a chair near the bed. "You feel the power, but not the chains."

Jareth looked down at his arms and legs. "I have no chains," he answered.

"None that you can see," replied the Healer. "They are there all the same. Oftentimes, the things we perceive as our strengths are what bind us."

"You speak in riddles, Old Man," Jareth retorted. "If you aren't going to be any more help than that, you can just leave."

The old man gave a long sigh. "These young ones," he told the hat. "They never listen."

He reached into his flowing cloak and took out several pouches of herbs and a vial of greenish liquid. The Healer carefully measured out the herbs before adding some of the liquid and mixing them together with a mortar and pestle. He poured the mixture into a wooden bowl and gave it to Jareth to drink. Jareth sniffed the mixture before drinking it down in one gulp, shuddering at the elixir's bitterness.

"What is this?" he asked, frowning into the empty bowl.

"It will help you regain your strength and hopefully give you clarity," answered the Wiseman. He looked gravely at Jareth. "The power you gain comes with a price, young Jareth," he told him. "You will have to make a choice."

Jareth scowled. "I know what choice I will have to make," he replied bruskly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood. On wobbly knees, he walked to the window and looked out over the barren land. "I have to choose whether to stay here with the sorceress or free myself and escape this cursed place."

"No," the Wiseman said, shaking his huge, round head. "That is not the choice you must make." Jareth turned away from the window and stared at him and the old man continued. "Your choice is not between freedom and captivity. It is between love and death."

"I don't understand," Jareth told him.

The Healer pointed toward the table where the Book of Secrets lay. "Read the book, Jareth," he said. "You will find the truth inside."

Jareth eyed the thick book. His fingertips tingled with the urge to call it to his hand. He shook the feeling away.

"Why can't you tell me the truth, Old Man? If you know so much..."

"You will believe only what truth you discover for yourself," replied the Healer. "You've sought the answers to the riddles, yet you've turned aside from the greatest one. You've chosen to believe pretty words spoken by pretty lips."

Jareth looked once more over the muddy, brown plain. "Is there no good in her?" he asked softly.

"Hmph!" squawked the hat. "If there is, you would have to mine it out with a pickax!"

The Wiseman shuffled over to where Jareth stood and laid a withered hand on his shoulder. "You've been given power, my young friend. You survived the transforming magic, but do not think you're strong enough to withstand this ancient spell. Don't sentence yourself to a cursed existence."

"Is that it then?" Jareth asked solemnly. "Is that the answer to the question of the greatest prison? It is one of our own making?"

"I am an old man," answered the Healer. "I dwell in a cage of brittle bones with Time and Memory as my jailors and Regret as my Torturer. They call me the Wiseman, but I am only wise from years of mistakes made and lessons learned. I can offer you advice, but I cannot force you to take it. Ultimately you must make the choice to heed what you've been told, or to follow your own truth. I tell you only this: read the book and then decide between the key and the sword."

Jareth was silent for a long moment as he reflected on the old man's words. He looked back at the Book of Secrets and felt it humming, beckoning to him. He knew the Healer was right. He had to make up his own mind, but only after he learned the full truth for himself, and obviously, the Book of Secrets was so named for a reason.

"I will try to get the book tonight," he told the old man softly. "Can you give me something to make the sorceress sleep?"

The Healer nodded and rifled through the folds of his ragged cloak before drawing out a small box. He pressed it into Jareth's hand. "A pinch of this in her wine will assure that she will sleep soundly. Take care, my friend, and good luck to you." He gave Jareth a kind smile before turning to leave.

"Wiseman," called Jareth as the Healer reached the door and turned back for a moment.

"Do you think I'm a fool for loving her?"

The old man smiled wistfully. "I think you have always loved her, young Jareth. I think you will always love her."

Jareth didn't fully understand the man's words, but he smiled and nodded and bid the Healer and his hat good day. He could hear the hat resume its chattering as soon as they stepped into the hall.

"Do you really think that love-sick ninny is going to listen to you?" the hat squawked.

"There's always hope," replied the old man.

Jareth studied the small wooden box the Healer had given him for a moment before tucking it snuggly into his pocket.

"I'm glad you are recovered," Sarah told Jareth as they sat together by the fire. "You had me worried." She touched his shoulder lightly and he smiled. She had stayed by his side for most of the day, feeding him sweet fruits and delicate pastries. Sarah had kissed him tenderly and whispered soft promises into his ear as she lay at his side on the draped bed, the picture of a dutiful lover.

"Your Healer gave me herbs," Jareth replied. "I felt their effects almost immediately."

"Yes," said Sarah with a nod. "He has a talent for herbal medicine, but I must question his taste in hats."

Jareth laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "Agreed," he said. He stood and moved toward the onyx table that held the Book of Secrets and also the decanter of wine. "Wine, my love?" he asked the sorceress and she nodded. Jareth gave the book a sideways glance as he cautiously slipped the little wooden box out his pocket. Opening it carefully, he withdrew a small pinch of the grey dried herbs inside and dropped it into Sarah's glass. He stuffed the box back into his pocket, poured the wine and delivered the glass to the sorceress. "Here you are," he said, raising his glass in a toast. "Here's to recovery and to another completed challenge."

Sarah set her glass down beside her, untouched. "Oh?" she questioned. "You have written the song of the greatest prison?"

"I have," Jareth answered a bit more forcefully than he intended. He was bothered by the fact that she wasn't drinking her wine. Did she possibly suspect what he had done? He recovered himself and smiled at her. "Would you care to hear it?"

"Of course," replied Sarah. She leaned back against the cushions of the settee as Jareth took his guitar and strummed a mournful minor chord.

A cell of flesh, a shell of skin

A bloody cage with bars of bone

The darkness of regret within

He sits forgotten and alone

"I remember, I remember"

He sings his mournful song

Deep in his December

When the nights are cold and long

And his mem'ries are bitter

And his tapestry is torn

From his yanking at the threading

Till the picture's faded, worn

"I remember, I remember"

He concocts a different Truth

To douse the glowing ember

Of the follies of his Youth

Unable to correct the past

Unable to amend

He calls a truce with Time at last

And makes Regret his friend

"I remember, I remember"

He sings of days of ol'

In his dark and mournful timbre

In the prison of his soul

With the last dying echoes of the final note, Sarah felt the bindings around her neck fall away. She choked back a moan as she brought her hands to her throat and felt the invisible chains disintegrate. Laughing, she picked up her glass of wine and held it high. "Now we may toast to challenges complete," she told Jareth. He put his guitar down and retrieved his glass and touched it to hers.

"To challenges met and bonds broken," he said. He watched as Sarah took a long drink of her wine and he smiled to himself. He would soon know the truth and be able to make his choice. He took a seat beside her and clasped her hand in his.

"I sang the song of my heart tonight," he told her. "I don't wish to live in your prison of stone, but I also do not wish to live in a prison of regret, one of my own making."

Sarah squeezed his hand, understanding. "You have one final challenge, my love," she said. "Complete it and you'll be free to choose your destiny. I would hope to see you choose to stay with me, not as my captive, but as my companion."

"Can I trust you, Sarah? Do I have a reason to?" Jareth asked her, his eyes pleading.

Sarah rose gracefully from the settee and fingered the lacings of her gown. They loosened beneath her fingers and the scarlet gown opened, revealing the full length of her milky flesh. "I believe I can give you one," she whispered seductively. She reached for him, but stopped, wavering. She passed a trembling hand over her face as the herbs began taking effect. Her body went numb and she looked up at Jareth in disbelief.

"What have you done?" she hissed as she collapsed into his arms. She looked groggily up at the vaulted ceiling and called out in guttural unknown words to the imps above. They screeched and flapped at their Mistress's cries and swooped down angrily toward Jareth with their pointed teeth bared and their razor-sharp claws extended.

Jareth released Sarah, letting her fall in an unconscious heap on the settee. He bolted for the Book of Secrets, snatching it from the table and barreling out the door and down the hallway. He raced down the spiraling stairs and along the dark passageways until at last he escaped out into the black night.

The cloud of imps followed, shrieking and chattering and diving down at him as he ran with the Book of Secrets tucked securely under his arm. The soggy ground sucked at his boots, slowing him, and the imps closed in. One of them caught him by the back of his shirt and began to haul him upward.

"Help me!" Jareth cried as his feet left the ground. He kicked and swung and struggled against the vile creature, nearly dropping the book. He clasped it to his chest tightly as the imp dragged him higher into the air. The book rumbled against his breast and he felt a surge of magic course throughout his body. Focusing the energy, he let it burst outward, hitting the charging imps full force. The swarm screamed and scattered, panicked, in all directions. The creature holding him released him and he plummeted toward the ground below. Closing his eyes, Jareth focused the magical energy again as the earth rose up to meet him. With a loud cry and a flash of light, his body transformed. Mottled feathers broke through his skin, his bones thinned and hollowed and his arms became strong owl's wings. He spread the wings out and caught the wind, swooping majestically up from the muddy ground and into the black sky, the Book of Secrets in his sharp talons.

With a joyous cry, Jareth soared upward with the cold air under his wings and the stars above his head. His heart thudded wildly in his feathered chest as he swooped and swept over the barren plains. His rapture was short lived as the book in his talons grew heavy. Looking at the ground, he spotted a small light below and spiraled down toward it. As he drew closer he could see that the light came from the open window of a tiny tilted shack nestled among the ruins of a stone wall. He drew in his wings and aimed for the window, but misjudged his speed. Flapping wildly, he burst through the opening and crashed into the wall at the back of the hovel. As he lay dizzy and disoriented on the dirt floor, a shadow fell over him. He felt his body shudder and transform from an owl back into a man and the shadow drew back in fear and wonder.

"What the hell? Jareth?" said a gruff voice. Jareth opened his eyes and looked up.

"Haggle?" he managed to squeak to the dwarf leaning over him.

"It's Hoggle," the dwarf said as he reached down to help Jareth sit up.

"Thank you," said Jareth, rubbing his bruised head.

Hoggle put his hands on his hips and frowned. "What were you doing? How did you get in here? What is that book? Were you an owl? What. Did. You. Do?" he gushed all at once.

Jareth looked down at where the Book of Secrets lay open at his side. "I was stealing this," he said, indicating the book. "I turned into an owl and flew in here to get away from the imps. As for what I've done," he said, pausing to draw in a deep breath. "I think I've sealed my doom."

A/N:

We're nearing the home stretch! What secrets do you think the book will reveal?

I had to pay a little homage to one of my other favorite movies, The Wizard of Oz here. Anyone else think "flying monkeys" in the Jareth-chased-by-imps scene?

If you need a break from the angst and heavy drama, I suggest you go take a look at TheRealEatsShootsAndLeaves's funny fic, "Short Stacks." They're short, sweet, hilarious and oh-so-satisfying!