For all of you who find cliff hangers a killer, I am so sorry. The story just seemed to ask for them. Hope you enjoy the next instalment. Let me know what you think. xxx

The brief look Sarah caught of his face before she was whirled away down the corridor showed her that Raemon still bore the signs of his last meeting with Jareth. Although now much faded the bruising on his face was still visible, and the shiny remains of a scar stood out on his lower lip. Sarah struggled with all her might as she was marched off down the corridor, but Raemon's superior strength left her no room for manoeuvre and she found she could do little but follow. As they left the castle grounds Raemon spun to face her, pulling her body flush against his and fading them slowly from view. As they vanished, Sarah thought she caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes watching them from behind a bush, but by the time she looked again, it was too late.

Even from the simple manoeuvre of transportation, Sarah could tell that Raemon's magic could not rival that of his cousin. The travel was unsteady, laboured and when they materialised once again Raemon looked tired and was breathing heavily, clutching at his damaged ribs. Also, it seemed that he could not dematerialise from inside Jareth's castle, else why hadn't he just snatched her away in the corridor? Sarah stored this information away in case it should become useful later. Now, however, she appeared to have more pressing problems.

They had appeared in what seemed to be a damp dungeon, not unlike the oubliette in which she had found herself on her first visit to the Labyrinth. Raemon wrapped his arm round her waist and pulled her towards a corner where rusty chains hung from the ceiling. Sarah kicked out and screamed, begging Raemon not too do this, but he ignored her, his messy black hair falling over his eyes as he drew her arms above her head and snapped the cuffs shut. Sarah was stretched onto her tiptoes, unable to move at all. Facing the wall. She shut her eyes and thought of Jareth, pleading that he would help her, knowing that he could not.

She heard Raemon clattering about behind her, but could not turn her head to see what he was doing. And then there was silence.

Back at Jareth's castle a small figure ran up the steps to the main doors, throwing his weight against them and pushing with all his might.

Up in the grand chamber, the surgeon pushed the cork back into his bottle of antidote and turned to Jareth's left arm. Running his hand over the break he quickly determined a complicated compound fracture, as well as multiple breaks in three of Jareth's fingers. He glanced up at the king's face. Grey etched his features and cold sweat stood out on his forehead. He was muttering something as his shallow breath hissed from between his lips and it was only when he lowered his ear to Jareth's mouth that the surgeon could distinguish the single word.

"Sarah."

Through his mist of pain Jareth became aware of a face bending over him.

"Sarah?" he muttered.

But the face was not Sarah's. It was that of his healer. He turned his head away.

"No," he whispered, "I can't, not again."

The face was saying something but Jareth tried to block it out. He wanted Sarah. The voice swam on the edges of his consciousness.

"My Lord. My Lord. My Lord, listen to me. Concentrate on my voice. I have cleaned the wounds. I need you to repair the damage. Summon your magic and direct it to healing. I will guide you through the process. Come now My Lord."

Jareth closed his eyes against the swirling room.

"Can't," he protested, "too tired."

He felt someone calling on the edge of his consciousness, reaching out and crying for him. He screwed his eyes shut and sought out the voice. It was scared. It asked him for help. But how could he help? He had no strength. He tried to shut the voice out but it grew in volume, searching for him. His mind recoiled in shock. It was Sarah. But how could she be in danger? She was in the throne room. He felt her scared thoughts screaming out for him. Clenching his fists he sought out his magic.

"That's it My Lord," the healer encouraged, "show me the magic and I will put it to your healing."

But Jareth did no such thing. Instead he channelled his power over the void, sending it flowing to Sarah, helping her in the only way he had the strength to do. It wasn't much. But at least she'd know he was there. Exhausted from the effort, he collapsed back into unconsciousness. The surgeon sighed in exasperation.

"What was that?!" he asked the hovering goblin, "Why didn't he try to heal himself?"

The goblin shrugged and the surgeon moved to Jareth's side once more and laid his fingers on the King's neck, checking his pulse. It was weak and fluttered beneath his fingers. The surgeon shook his head.

The door to the chamber crashed open and Hoggle cannoned through the opening, spinning with the force with which he had entered the room.

"My Lord?" he was shouting. "My Lord Jareth something terrible has..."

He froze at the sight of Jareth's prone body lying unconscious on the bed. He collapsed to his knees wailing.

"Oh no no no. Oh my poor Sarah." He leapt to his feet and ran to Jareth. "Wake up you useless King," he shouted, grabbing Jareth's shoulders and shaking him hard. "Wake up Your good for nothing Majesty. You promised you'd protect her and now she's stolen, you..."

The surgeon and the goblin dragged Hoggle's screaming form away, and he collapsed sobbing to the ground.

In the dungeon, Sarah stared blankly at the wall. She wanted to scream, and kick, and cry, but the energy just was not there. Numbly she reached out for Jareth again, wishing with all her heart that he was well and would save her. All at once she felt an odd sensation deep within her. Like something materialising inside her, growing and expanding. Her body shuddered slightly as it touched the sides of her sensitive walls, pulsing slightly as it manifested itself inside her. She realised what it was. Jareth's cylinder thing. His so called Underground chastity belt. She wondered if he had heard her plea for help? But how could this help her now, she wondered. It wasn't like she could use it as a weapon. But then, she thought, even if this had been sent by Jareth, and wasn't just an automatic reaction to her leaving the castle grounds, he had no idea where she was. She sighed and let herself flop down in the chains, giving her aching feet a rest. She wondered vaguely when Raemon would return, and what he had in store for her.

She did not have to wait long. Somewhere behind her a door clattered open and she could hear a sly voice crooning to something behind her.

"Come my beauties," Raemon's voice sounded, "Come and meet his bride. Let me introduce you to the Coming Champion."

Sarah heard a scuttling behind her, as though of many legs surging across stone. Then she felt the tickling of climbing bodies, and looked down to see a swarm of spiders making their way up her legs. Sarah gritted her teeth. If Raemon wanted her to react in fear, she would not give him the satisfaction. These looked like harmless house spiders, though they tickled and itched as they ascended her thighs. She felt Raemon's breath on the back of her neck as he moved behind her to whisper in her ear.

"Can't you hear them Sarah?" he asked his hands rising to smooth the hair away from her ears and down her back. "Can't you hear them talk? They can hardly hear you. Ahhh."

Raemon stilled as though listening to a faraway sound. Sarah strained her ears but could hear nothing.

"They say you're drained Sarah. Your capacity for inter-mind communication virtually nil." He ran his hands down her shoulders over the dressing gown she still wore. "You poor Abovegrounders," he sing-songed into her hair. "You miss so much." Sarah felt, rather than saw, the smile that spread across his face. "But what's this? The spiders tell me that beneath your robe, you are wearing...nothing."

Sarah became aware that the spiders were now climbing the chains that held her arms above her head, crawling across the ceiling and presumably exiting the room from the same door through which they had entered. Raemon's arms slid round her waist and Sarah repressed an exclamation of fear. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"I know you were attracted to me at the ball Sarah," Raemon spoke urgently into her ear. "I know you only resisted because of the presence of my cousin. But he is not here now. And he won't be here. He will never be here. My archer saw to that."

Sarah stiffened. So it had been Raemon who had tried to kill Jareth.

"But why?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"He didn't tell you? But the spiders told me he took you to the garden. He didn't show you the picture?"

"What picture," Sarah spat, wondering if he was just trying to rile her.

"The picture of you of course. It's been in his summer house as long as we have known. Dated since before our birth. You. The Coming Champion. And Jareth's future bride."

Sarah caught her breath and wondered if the knowledge did anything to change the way she felt. It spoke of prophesy. She wondered why Jareth had not told her. She thought of his words earlier that day. "It's only forever" he had said. And his promise, "I'll be there for you, when the world falls down." These were not the idle untruths of a trickster. She loved Jareth, and Raemon could not change that.

"So what," she answered defiantly. "If Jareth didn't tell me then he obviously had a reason. Maybe he didn't want me to freak out or something."

Even as she said it it sounded weak. Raemon chuckled darkly.

"Yeah well, whatever you say Sarah. I only wish that the spiders had not been necessary. They are cruel. I can only control them as far as it suits them. They are a law unto themselves. But my cousin spurned me. He humiliated me. He delights in it. And now I take revenge."

Raemon's hands began fumbling with the tie on the front of her robe. As much to stall him as anything Sarah queried his last remark.

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He took the throne," Raemon ground out. "It was mine by rights, I was older. I was the favourite. But then Jareth was born. Jareth with his oddball eyes and golden hair. His magic was so strong. He set fire to his crib but he did not burn, he froze his bath water but he was unharmed. It was a sign they said. Jareth was the rightful king. They trained him, taught him to control his power, but he was always stronger than them. That's what it means you know, in Goblin. Jareth means powerful king. And he was so good. He loved the goblins, he played with the changelings. Could he not see that he was better than them? Did he have no sense of pride? He rules so gently. I, now I would have been a proper king, strong and strict. Never give into them. But Jareth..."

Raemon's angry tirade tailed off. Sarah shuddered at the thought of Raemon as Goblin King. If he thought Jareth was soft, God alone knew what he would have done. Raemon's fingers finally fumbled the knot in her dressing gown open.

"But now I have won," he sneered. "I have his champion and he is dying. I have won."

His hands pulled open the front of her gown, sliding up to cover her bare breasts. Sarah shuddered at his touch, repulsed.

"Relax Sarah, I know you want this."

"I'll never want this," she spat in return, convulsing her body and trying to throw him off, but the movement the chains allowed her was not enough for such a manoeuvre. Raemon laughed at her obviously failed attempt to oust him from her body, tightening his hands against her and pulling her back to his body. Horrified, Sarah could feel the growing hardness at his crotch. Aloud, she snickered.

"What is it Sarah?" Raemon asked, his voice sounding uncertain as to whether he should be laughing too.

"Oh nothing," Sarah replied, trying to make her voice sound light, despite her predicament. "It's just that you're way smaller than Jareth."

Her taunt hit home and Raemon's reaction was instantaneous. He flung her from him so that she swung forward, impacting with the stone wall in front of her. He brought his hand down hard, punching forcefully into the stretched point where her shoulder joined her neck. Sarah's world swam, and then she was engulfed by blackness.

Hoggle was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth and moaning.

"Poor Sarah," he was saying, "poor poor Sarah."

The surgeon and the goblin stared at him perplexed. They glanced at each other, but neither knew the source of the little groundsman's anxiety.

"Poor Sarah," Hoggle moaned again, "snatched by the nasty one from the ball. Snatched by that Raemon who was here the other day. He was punished then. I hope he still hurts."

Unseen by any, Jareth's head turned slowly on the pillow. When he spoke, they jumped, not expecting him to be awake.

"What's this Hogwart?" he queried and his voice, though still weak, had regained some of its usual composure.

"Your cousin sir," began Hoggle tremulously. "He snatched Sarah. I saw them vanish from just outside the grounds. You were supposed to protect her Jareth. You couldn't even do that right," he grumbled. "And now she's gone. What a mess."

The little dwarf shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. He hobbled to the door and left, muttering something about finding Didymus, if all Jareth could do was lie there and be dying. Jareth pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Is this true?" he asked the goblin, though he knew in his heart that it was. He thought of Sarah's silent cries for help. Summoning his strength he pulled a crystal from the air. The mist swirled within its depths, barley clearing until he asked it to show him Sarah out loud. A dark room appeared. Sarah was hanging by her wrist from the ceiling, feet barely touching the ground. She was covered in splashes of blood and Jareth caught his breath before realising that from its colour, it had to be his. The front of her dressing gown hung open, revealing her body. Her eyes were closed but the flickering beneath her lids told him that she was dreaming. Behind he stood Raemon, his eyes closed in concentration as he fed her the visions. Pulling on more of his limited strength, Jareth commanded the crystal to show him Sarah's vision. He nearly dropped the crystal in shock.

Sarah was lying naked in the grass, an unseen force pressing her into the ground. Her arms and legs were spread wide and all that would move were her eyes, which she flicked back and forth in apprehension. Silently, Raemon appeared, naked to the waist but still retaining his cream riding breeches. He lay down beside Sarah, running his hand over her breasts and down across her stomach, lower and lower. His fingers delved between her legs and Sarah tried to writhe away, but the forces holding her immobile were too strong. One finger pushed inside her, seeking to reach deep.

Out with the vision Raemon frowned. What was this? Why was it still there? Why hadn't it vanished in his vision like the rest of her attire? While still maintaining the stream of dream to Sarah, he reached down and lifted the back of Sarah's dressing gown. Pushing his hand between her legs, he inserted a finger inside her. Then he realised. A Labyrinthian cylinder. That was powerful enough not to simply be negated by a force dream. Cursing, he reached back inside her, taking hold of the cylinder and pulling hard. It did not budge.

In the dream, Sarah wanted to scream as she felt Raemon try to remove her only defence, but no sound would escape her body.

On his bed at the castle, Jareth allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. His brow quickly darkened again as he continued to observe.

In the dream, Raemon grew impatient. His erection hurt him. He needed release. Waving his hand over Sarah's body, he released the force enough to be able to roll her over before pinning her back to the ground. Smiling, he ran his hand down her lower back, stroking a finger over her puckered entrance.

"No!"

Jareth hurled the crystal at the far wall where it shattered into a million tiny shards of glitter. Pulling himself further upright, Jareth fought the spin of the room as the blood began to pump from the wound in his arm once more, and the broken bones grated with the movement.

"My Lord you must rest," exclaimed the surgeon, hurrying over to him and trying to push him back against the pillows. Jareth fought him off and dragged himself to his feet, knowing full well as the world spun round him that had he been fit the surgeon would never have dared to contradict him like this.

"My Lord, at least let us heal you," the scared surgeon pleaded, blanching at the terrifying harshness in Jareth's eyes.

Jareth blinked his eyes, trying to focus the room. He attempted to raise his hand and summon a crystal, but the muscle strength just wasn't there. The surgeon saw his chance and seized Jareth's hands, trying not to crush the king's broken fingers.

"Concentrate on me My Lord," he tried again, "channel the magic so I can use it."

Jareth closed his eyes and drew on the source of his power. It felt a long way off, unobtainable. He gritted his teeth and reached further, stretching out metaphorical finger tips. He reached it, sending it coursing back to the surgeon. Immediately he felt the muscle of his arm regaining strength as the fibres knitted together. The broken bones forced themselves back into realignment and began to fuse. The deep gash began to close, the blood drying away to reveal a deep rooted, silvery scar. Jareth flexed his muscles and opened his eyes. He stood and the world did not try to shake him from his feet.

"There you are My Lord," the surgeon said in a pleased voice, "all it took was a little wanting of it on your part. My Lord? My Lord come back. My Lord you should rest. You are not fully well. You were poisoned by iron, it takes days to heal. My Lord you must lie down."

But Jareth was gone, the chamber window banging shut behind him as he leapt from the sill. Time was what they did not have.

Will Jareth be strong enough? Will Jareth be in time? Will he find them? What will he do? Keep reading. xxx