Chapter One
The storm howled on in indignant stubbornness as rain pelted the streets and soaked any travellers foolish enough to step outside. Several of the pubs and restaurants that lined the town's main street had shut early- most sane people had instead chosen to stay in their warm houses and flats with a cup of tea. Consequently, light streamed out from only a handful of establishments, welcoming visitors with the promise of a burning fire, cooked meal and booze to warm the soul. But even that promise was not enough to draw most, and Sarah stood lazily against the bar top with a distracted gaze directed to the little window at her right.
The street beyond was dark and dreary.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder at the accumulated patrons she was looking after. She could almost count them on one hand. A couple had come in for dinner and were sat together in the far corner. They were as close as they could get to the fire that was just starting to fade while they enjoyed the house red wine and picked at the cheeseboard special. Mick, a very regular regular, was perched down the bar on his third pint of lager. Finally, three men in suits and woollen, long jackets were laughing jovially in the middle of the room. Their eyes were cast on the little television above the fireplace near the couple. A game of football played out in another city, and every now and then, the three men would cheer abruptly and loudly, and take another swig of their scotch and sodas.
The tavern was cosy (as far as taverns go) and the wooden aesthetic, mixed with the mismatched tables and chairs that dotted the floor, made for a comfortable evening amongst the old boar and deer heads taxidermied on the walls. Tattered rugs littered the wooden floor, and shelves held old glasses with various logos of brewing companies faded on their faces.
The wall behind Sarah was warm because the kitchen was on the other side of it, and the industrial stove acted as her own, personal heater. This allowed her to wear only a t-shirt, and thick jeans with socks hidden underneath up to her knees. Her well-worn sneakers were not as white as they had once been, but the faded leather provided proof of the efforts of her gallivants across the globe. Her dark hair was tied in a loose ponytail- a success by all accounts, as she had only just grown it long enough to tie back again since her latest failed attempt at reinvention.
"Sarah, darl," Mick waved at Sarah, distracting her from her trance in the window.
"Mick?"
"Think Carlos could wrangle me up some hot chips?"
Sarah smiled, "I'm sure Carl can manage," she gently corrected- as she always did- and spun around to the doorway into the kitchen.
Carl was on his phone, and he jumped when Sarah knocked on the metallic table in the middle of the room, clattering some stray utensils there.
"Mick's after some fries."
"Ah, right on cue," the young man laughed and stowed his mobile in the pocket of his apron. He turned to the deep fryer and jiggled the handle, "Good thing I can read minds."
Sarah bit her lip at the thought and wondered curiously if Carl meant that- sometimes, those phrases were more than just jokes- but she finally nodded in agreement before going back out to the bar. She added the food to Mick's tab on the till and returned to her stoic position near the window.
The rain had not let up for what felt like weeks, and if Sarah was being completely honest with herself, she had grown quite sick of it. The sleepy town was a welcome respite from some of the more bustling cities she had visited in her travels, but she longed for sunshine once again, and the sleepy town on the outskirts of London rarely proffered such a treat.
The three men cheered as their team passed the try line. She looked over at them, intrigued.
Ah, she thought, to be so carefree.
She had never understood those who followed sports. But then again, many had never understood why she indulged in fairy tales and other such 'nonsense'. She would go to the theatre whenever she had the chance to escape into another world- albeit a fake world- and distract herself from the mundane of humanity. She supposed, in a way, that that was what the gentlemen watching the rugby were doing.
Sarah sighed and turned to address the dishwasher behind her as it beeped impatiently to announce a finished cycle. She made to bend down to it, but then something entirely unusual caught her eye at the window, and her head snapped back towards the glass to catch whatever had passed by. Nothing was there but the continuing rain, and she frowned at her sudden uneasiness. What had changed in those last few moments?
She studied the glass, perplexed. The hairs at her neck stood on edge and she struggled for a moment to work out what had made her feel such unease.
Then, it hit her.
The silence.
The pub may not have been its liveliest, but the crackling of the fire, hum of the television, and clattering of Carl in the kitchen suddenly seemed like chaos considering the deathly silence that had suddenly befallen them. Even outside, the storm seemed to quieten to little more than a whisper. Her breath came out unsteadily and cold, and Sarah shivered, regretting the decision to remove her hoody. Her face grew pale as she tried to steady her breath. When was the last time she had felt like this? New Zealand? Yes- when that troll had attacked that market.
That's right.
Since her time in the Labyrinth all those years ago, Sarah had developed a knack for attracting beasts of another world to her. Maybe it was something that lingered within her from her time in the kingdom of the Goblin King, or maybe it was just that she was more aware of other worldly things now. Either way, she had remained puzzled by the attraction that magical creatures had to her- in both her dreams and the real world.
A booming crash interrupted her thoughts as the door to the pub slammed open. The wind picked up instantly, howling incessantly as leaves and rubbish and water hurled through the gaping entryway. At the bar, Mick fell out of his chair, cursing loudly as he went floundering to the hardwood floor. Sarah did not think to help him as she pushed up on the bar and launched herself over the tabletop. Carl came running in through the kitchen, expletives escaping his lips as he questioned Sarah on what was happening.
She could not respond. She vaguely noticed the three rugby-watching men jump from their chairs and move towards the couple by the fire, trying their best to get away from the creature that had appeared at the entrance.
For all the exposure to magical creatures Sarah had had over the years, she had not come across one such as this. Tall, spindly and shimmering green and grey, the creature had to crouch to come into the pub, and its clawed hooves looked deadly as it strode in. The beaked beast snapped hungrily at her and swayed its head as she came to stand between the tavern's patrons and it. Sarah managed one glance back at them before picking up the closest chair and holding the legs defensively up towards it.
"Sarah! What the-"
Darn it, Carl, Sarah chided in her mind when the thing's head shot towards Carl.
The chef's face filled with a terror and he screamed again, scrambling back towards the kitchen. The thing seemed excited by the sudden enticement of chase, and it jumped across the pub and landed on the bar. Mick cried out from his place on the floor and scurried towards Sarah's legs.
She struggled to shake the older man off, and called at the creature as Carl disappeared, "Hey!"
It ignored her and she tried again. When still its focus stayed on the doorway that Carl had gone through, Sarah decided that her voice alone would not be enough to get its attention. She grunted with the effort as she launched the chair in her grasp at the thing's direction. It collided with what she thought was a scaly shoulder blade and it turned slowly, crushing Mick's half empty glass under its hooves as it moved.
It hissed.
"What are you? What do you want?"
It growled.
"I said-"
But it was no use. The creature launched at Sarah, bearing its vicious teeth that had previously been concealed under the beak. Mick cried out and gripped Sarah's jeaned leg tighter. The action caused her to topple, and she felt her back crash against the circular table at her back. She cried out in pain and tried her best to keep her eyes on the creature. It could pounce at any moment.
"Sarah!" cried Carl.
He had made his way back behind the bar, and was about to haul what looked like the deep fried chips for Mick at it.
Honestly, Carl, Sarah managed to think as the creature continued towards her, gaining speed, do you really think that chips will help?
The creature was inches from Sarah when it dawned on her that she did not know how to fight it. Sure, she had experience with magical things, but she was no hunter, or witch, or anything that possessed any sort of real power. She was still just a girl- woman- who happened to notice things others did not. Her knack for attracting creatures was just that, and aside from some fighting skills she had picked up over the years- and the ability to chat to any number of species that did not really exist- she was utterly hopeless against a beast such as this.
Sarah braced herself by wrapping a hand around the table leg behind her, and Mick whimpered helplessly at her side.
As it looked into Sarah's eyes, an odd familiarity settled within her, and it reminded her instantly of some of the things she had encountered all those years ago… in another world.
Sarah swallowed and the thing's eyes went to her throat.
This was it.
Her and Mick were going to die there and then.
"Enough."
The voice was calm and cool and quiet. The wind was still bucketing through the entryway, but when Sarah looked over at it, she saw a new figure standing there.
It was like déjà vu.
Sarah blinked rapidly in the newcomer's direction. The storm threw his hair about his face at strange angles, and it whipped this way and that and caught the low light of the pub. This cast strange shadows over his angular features, and what looked like glitter danced about his skin in that sickeningly perfect sort of way that she always remembered.
Her face, already drenched in the fear of knowing she was about to die, grew a little bit paler, and she swallowed again to try and stop the shaking that had erupted in her very bones.
How? She thought desperately.
The creature crouched low, the top of its head near Sarah's separated knees, and growled profusely at the scene's intruder. Curled up beside her, Mick mumbled something about Jesus. Sarah patted his forearm as she kept her eyes on the newcomer.
He took a step into the pub, tugged at the edge of the glove on his right hand to hoist it just that little bit tighter over his skin.
"There you are," his melodic voice cooed. Sarah was not entirely certain of whether he was talking to her or the creature. Irritation bubbled in her gut as she noted his tone- he sounded amused, not concerned, and she fought back the urge to jump up and hit him. Behind her, she heard one of the three men cry out in fear.
Fair, Sarah thought in response, considering you have to take in the sight of such a pompous King.
"That's enough, now," the Goblin King said, holding his arm out. Sarah's eyes were wide as she watched him summon a crystal out of thin air.
Had she forgotten that he could do that?
While she pondered, the creature moaned in a sorrowful way, and its head pressed against Sarah's leg in an attempt to cower backwards from the crystal.
He hurled it at it, and within moments (and with one sickening cry) the creature was gone. Yellow specs of light and glitter drifted through the air in its place, and after a few seconds, all trace of the thing was gone.
Sarah blinked in disbelief and coughed (the glitter remnants tickled her nose and throat).
The sudden calmness gave her a moment to think.
How long had it been?
When had she last seen him?
She had seen him often in her dreams, she reminded herself, though his image would warp and shift the further into time she travelled. She remembered clearly the last time she had actually seen him- the night she had defied him. The night she had bested him.
He had never appeared to her again after that night- not in the real world.
Over the years, she had sometimes seen beautiful white owls, and she would wonder about their origins. And, of course, she had the dreams… But she had never actually cast her eyes on him since that night, years ago.
Ten years? Possibly more. Sarah did not linger on the years if she could help it.
Putting that thought aside, she blinked up at the Goblin King with a mix of fear, apprehension and curiosity. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were squarely on her. He had not stopped staring at her, in fact, since the creature has disappeared. His hands were fists at his sides, and he wore a familiar leather and steal ensemble that made it look like he was going to war. How menacing this man- no- this thing could be, Sarah thought. For he was not a man. He was a creature, much like the thing that was no longer attacking her.
The thing he had just saved her from.
"Wh-""
Mick jumped to his feet before Sarah could say anything.
"Another round, Carlos?"
"I've got your chips here, Mick, and Sarah can ring you up another round when she's finished cleaning the tables."
The three men were laughing and smiling down at the couple still in their seats, "Sorry, love," one said, "we were just trying to get closer to the fire. Bloody cold."
"Honestly, with all the space in here you wonder why people have to bunch up," one woman of the couple said to the other, who nodded in agreement.
Sarah had to shut her eyes for a moment to block out the sudden noise that went flying unfiltered through the tavern. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly humans could push interactions with magical things out of their minds. It seemed the more ridiculous the beast, the quicker humans would forget them. It was like amnesia.
"Thanks, Carlos," Mick said as he sat back down at the bar.
"Sarah, another round, eh?"
Sarah took a moment to breath and ran a hand through her hair. Her ponytail had come loose, and she brushed a strand of her dark locks back behind her ear. Her heart was still racing, and she was acutely aware of those mismatched eyes on her. She closed her own eyes for a moment and let her mind place the events that had just transpired neatly away for later. She would have to research that particular creature- it would have to appear in some book, somewhere.
She took a deep breath and focused on the Goblin King. What was she supposed to say to him? A little voice of reason told her she should at least acknowledge his presence. Sarah turned back to the door- now closed as if nothing had happened.
Sarah noted the mess that had blown in- mostly leaves, chocolate wrappers and used coffee cups (all equating to more to clean up before the end of the night). She tut-tutted at the thought and then forced herself to look towards the evening's unexpected saviour.
But she also had to quell an array of emotions that bubbled up when she realised that the glittery King was gone.