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The Same Moon Part 11

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They were all over her body.

They could have been finger tips, curved nails even, pressing into her supple skin. At first she thought she'd imagined it, someone stroking a dove feather against her bare neck, a tongue flicking at her nape. But it was too cold. Too cold. Like an icicle pressed dangerously to her skin, tracing a pattern, the slightest slip and her throat cut.

No not fingers, nor hands.

Spider legs.

Silence but the ringing in her ears, and the memory of the fear of spiders ever since she was a child, of their tiny beady eyes and scuttling limbs.

Fluttering spindly legs tickled her lobe and she tried to scream. But her mouth was gagged. Lips were pressed mercilessly into her own canine teeth, biting down into ripe flesh, a metallic taste sparkling in her mouth. She slowly tested the material cutting into her mouth. Salty, bitter almost. She suppressed the urge to vomit.

There were more now. Like pearl rain drops falling against her skin.

Rain drops? She knew raindrops from somewhere. They reminded her of someone, but of whom? But then who was she? Where was this?

But tears were caught in a net of silvery threads, entwined in a spiders web. Glimmering around her eyes covering her own in lace and silver.

Oh God was this some kind of dream? Please let it be some kind of dream.

For the legs of a small creature they were sharp. Pointed like a needle, rope to bind her through the needle eye.

To bind her.

Hands useless, legs too. The whole of her body tied to cool material which made her whole head shiver.

Rope across her abdomen, both ankles, both wrists, confining her. Trapping her.

She still couldn't see, a masterpiece of silk masking her view.

The creatures continued to scuttle across her chest to tickle in her ear, to stroke at her neck. Her heart thumped like a bird trapped in a cage. But ribs were held tight in place. And if she moved...she didn't want to move.

"Sarah......." Her breath shuddered in her throat, now like ice from the million tiny caresses. Did someone say something? Sarah? It sounded familiar.

Get them off me, she prayed. They were everywhere now, engulfing her, absorbing her, and she was drowning, trapped in the silvery thread.

"Sarah." The whisper drumming at the base of her ear.

Please get them off me, she pleaded silently as legs danced upon her stomach, wrapped threads around her hair.

"Your wish is my command."

Gone. Nothing. No sensation, not even a breeze.

Oh God she knew that voice.

The mist of dappled webs in front of her eyes cleared.

And now she daren't look.

Suddenly a movement. From where? Where was this? Dreams never this clear, never this crystal clear.

Dreams always within her, her never within the dream.

Dreams always within her, her never within the dream.

"My precious thing....."

The voice lingered, hovered in the still. Each second frozen. The words embraced the hollow of her ear.

Before sinking into her mind. How could she have forgotten this voice? In the haze around her it was still clear.

Bird wings fluttered violently in her chest now.

This was wrong. All wrong, there was only fear this time, no excitement, only fear.

All wrong.

But there he stood. Looking down upon her as always.

Smirking, thin pale lips curved elegantly to perfection. White, and in this place, glimmering skin. Just as when she had first met him. Hair sparkling, threads of glitter running through them. Cloak flowing behind him in a wind she didn't think existed.

The old game of predator and prey.

Hadn't the game changed?

Wrong, all wrong.

"My precious thing." Words tainted the air again, claiming it, claiming her. No it had changed, it had

changed this wasn't right.

Then he was on her and she squirmed and he smiled more as he lapped at her neck, trailed his cold tongue across her lips. No shouldn't be cold, hot it was hot.

"Mine."

He whispered in her ear. Tongue darting out to touch the skin there. Leather hands creeping all over her body, and she was repelled. She moved frantically, trying to free the bonds. He laughed, "Be still be calm be quiet now my precious love, don't struggle like that or I will only love you more."

And in her head she is shouting, and this is not right. He loves me, never dirty, never without my permission. Never like this, oh God I was wrong, how could I ever think

"Yes you're wrong my love, so very very wrong. This time I am not what you would have me be. I am

Prince Charming."

She cringed, vile hands pressed all over her heaving body, beneath her breasts, squeezing the flesh at her thighs, touching her, abusing her, not like before, this was nothing like before. And that wasn't a game, she knew that wasn't a game. Hands defiling as he ate her, predator claims prey.

"And you have always been charmed by evil my sweet and now it's much too late to get away and this game is mine."

Words were strange upon his cruel lips. Never had he been so twisted, he had always played by the rules. No she wasn't innocent, he had said that....wrong, she thought, all wrong.

"I'm going to enjoy this my sweet. You are my slave Sarah. My slave."

Her mind still tried to work out what was going on, tried to break out of this dream? Another spell? But why? this wasn't Jareth's style, wasn't...

She stopped struggling and froze, his hands still massaged her skin, disgusting hot kisses still pressed into her neck and lips. No I was never his slave, all wrong, all wrong. she caught a glimpse of his eyes. Empty, hazel dark, both of them. Both evil. Identical.

"You're not Jareth." It was a statement, simple, pure and simple and she knew it was true with the whole of her heart.

He froze tongue withdrawing, hands removing from her body and stood in front of her. She saw him then, how could she have ever thought he was Jareth?

He grinned and sharp teeth changed into jagged ones, smooth skin became bristled and white blonde hair dark. The only thing that didn't change were his eyes, as dead now as they were before.

"Well done Sarah. I'm impressed."

"I hate you." She spat.

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it. This was just a little trick I picked up from Jareth. How do you like my crystal world Sarah? A world where dreams come true!" He laughed absurdly and Sarah's whole face twisted in disgust.

And then he was sitting on her abdomen, his quads squeezing her sides tightly. "But these are my dreams Sarah, not yours and I haven't yet begun."

She started to shake and tasted bile in her throat as he leered over at her, saliva glistening on his dark lips. His face dropped in mock sympathy. "Oh don't worry my sweet I'll be gentle and you won't be able to help but enjoy it."

She considered begging him to stop, but no she couldn't give in. Let him do what he wanted to her, she was only in a dream. Or was the dream in her?

"Such a gentle thing," He sighed, "How you could be interested in Jareth is beyond me."

She closed her eyes in disgust when his hands begun to massage her breasts over her shirt. "Sarah don't think me so evil. Do you think Jareth is any different? Just look at how he has treated you. He used you my dear. Like you were his toy, like you were his whore."

She tried to block anything he was doing her but as the caresses got stronger, and her body began to betray her. A dream Sarah it's a dream. Dreams are magic, you have magic don't you? But how could she use it, she'd never used it before, or had she? A dream within her. He leant down to her ear, hot rancid breath all over her face. "Join me Sarah and you can be my Queen."

I'd rather be his whore then your Queen, She said through gritted teeth and watched him laugh.

Why didn't he take her instead of threatening her? Toying with her?

A glint of a memory emerged in her mind. Nothing is as it seems. She softened remembering the voice that spoke them. Trying to tell her something. He eyes darted open.

This was her dream, she had control.

She imagined the binds becoming loose and with a spark of white the binds around her broke. Rugar's leering face dropped in puzzlement. "What the-"

And then she threw him off her, her hands had begun to itch and when she looked own at them they were glowing. She smiled around her were walls like crystal shards. Rugar lay in a heap on the floor massaging his head. She had thrown him off herself easily. She brought her shining hands up to her face and stared at them with awe. They were covered in a glimmering white glow, a mist that encircled her fingers and bathed in the creased of her hands. She smiled and almost laughed.

"You bitch. How did you-" Rugar struggled to get upright, pain still ringing on his face now dark red and angry. He was breathing hard and grunting in the effort. She smiled even wider if it was possible and laughed silently. Completely amazed at her own power. She hadn't believed Christian, although they always said it, she'd always believed it was still some horrible mistake.

"Magic." She said, "Magic." And laughed.

Rugar stared at her eyes narrowed in hate, the pain beginning to subside.

The power coursed through her veins threatening to overflow at any second, she became wary of it's danger. Suddenly Sarah caught a glimpse of herself in the curved crystal walls, achingly familiar.

Time to get out of here, and she knew how. Before Rugar had a chance to regain full strength she pressed her glowing palms to the smooth wall not sure of what to do, just praying something would happen.

And that it did. Shattering into a million transparent pieces the crystal ball broke. She heard Rugar cursing and then he disappeared leaving her falling till she landed with a thump on cobbled slabs.

"You'll pay for that Sarah."

A growling voice alerted her to Rugar standing at the top of curved steps a hedge behind him, looking down at her still in a heap on the floor, her back aching from the fall.

She suddenly got to her feet eyes scanning her surroundings. She was back. In the middle of the hedge mazes, slabs of stone beneath her feet. Mile upon mile of twisted hedgerow, the castle at the centre. Although what lay there now she didn't know.

"Welcome to my realm Sarah, and welcome to my Labyrinth."

She turned to face him head on and he grinned a jagged grin. "I know you were here once but this isn't the Fae realm, this is the ninth realm sweet. That means no helpful little creatures running about helping you on your way and no rules."

All the easier to beat you then. She said crossed her arms defiantly.

He continued as if he hadn't heard her, "This time though no time limit, you and my idiot brothers have as long as you like to make it to the centre and try and get back to your own worlds." He walked down the steps and past her, the metal on his boots jangling with each step, she didn't bother turning to watch him. He didn't scare her. She ignored the beads of sweat running down her forehead. She said nothing, no 'It's not fair's, nothing.

"Afterall Sarah." He paused and she swallowed hard, "I've got forever."

She gave it a few seconds before turning, and was relieved to find him gone. The dark red sun was high in the Labyrinth, casting it's red glow over the maze, and for the height of the hedges that was all she could see. She could only imagine the beauty of the rest of it from fragmented memories.

Even if they got back how on earth where they ever going to get the Labyrinth out of the nightmare realm? And that would be a great loss. She sighed and sat upon a bench behind her and thought of Hoggle and the wiseman, thought of her saving Ludo and the brave Sir Didymus. If she hadn't been so damn proud they wouldn't be her only memories.

If she wasn't so damn proud she'd tell Jareth that it hadn't been but a game to her. God she was almost as stubborn and as proud as him. As proud as him.....she allowed the thoughts to dwell as the warm glow of the sun caressed her face. When she still couldn't work that damnable man out and his motives she cursed herself. Come on Sarah, there are more important things to think about at the moment then Jareth, you've got a world to save. But she still couldn't seem to push him from her mind.

* * * * *

Jareth slammed a gloved fist into the side of the rock hard oubliette. It didn't even dent the rock, fragments of stone merely crumbled to the floor. Even if he'd had his trusty dagger maybe he could have opened the metal grid but he'd awoken to find that absent. Rubbing the dust from his palms he raked his hands through his hair. His face was twisted in rage. To be imprisoned in his own oubliette! The irony of ironies. He had created the whole of the Labyrinth, and even here in the ninth realm he knew there was no way out of these, save from the outside.

The whole of his face was raked in sweat, and he licked some from his lips. He had underestimated Rugar. His brother had not just been able to find him in Nefar but send them all to the ninth realm. He had no idea what had happened to the others, one minute he had been riding the next....dammit he was so fucking powerless. He hated that feeling. He'd tried but his magic had been dampened. No way out. Nothing to do but sit in the darkness and wait. But patience had never been one of his virtues.

He slowed his breath and resumed his calm, he wouldn't allow Rugar to get to him like this. He had lived too long dammit. God knows what had happened to the others, if Rugar hadn't already killed them. He chuckled, no too easy for Rugar. He hated to admit it but he shared some traits with his brother, and that was they both liked to play with their food. So whom did Rugar see as his prey? To answer that he had to decide who was his prey, who was his weakness. Too easy.

His muscles tensed and his jaw began to shake. If he had laid a finger on Sarah, even breathed on her then God help him. Jareth caught himself, he realised that it was very likely that he wouldn't see her again and she would die thinking she meant nothing to him. No that wasn't in the plan, she would live to get over him, to understand, not to die hating and despising him. He clenched his fists.

"That wasn't in the bloody plan." He cursed out loud through gritted teeth, but all around him was just darkness, he could see little beyond the wall behind him. Closing his eyes briefly to kill the thumping pain in his head he leant against the cool stone. This was one of the slightly bigger tombs, to accommodate Fae or Nefarians or some of the larger races, so he could stand upright.

He suddenly straightened. His magic was dampened, but his senses were as sharp as ever. He wasn't alone in this oubliette.

Every breathe, every step echoed as he stepped forward to the direction of quiet moans and faint exhalations. He didn't need to say anything to know who accompanied him in this tomb. In this hollow concubine, a place you put people to forget about them. The scent of vanilla hovered around where a body lay, slumped in the corner of the oubliette. Above him the sun was coming to it's peak in the Labyrinth, piercing through the hollows in the grid, casting pin pricks of light all over a tired face looking up at him and smiling.

He knelt slowly beside her and grinned. "Well at least I've got some decent conversation till we get out of this place."

Alanna chuckled, obviously still tired. To crack a joke at a time like this, that could only be Jareth. But it dismayed her that even now he couldn't be serious with her. The right side of her face was marred by a purple bruise, she knew even in the shallow light he could see it, and still he made jokes. She struggled to sit up right. "Well Rugar's got a pretty good idea of what my hell is, being stuck in an oubliette to listen to you for hours on end." Her voice was dry when she spoke and she swallowed a few times to regain it's moisture.

Jareth moved to sit on the dusty floor beside her, one leg brought up the other flat, as relaxed as usual. He tilted the side of her face to inspect the purple lump on her right cheek, his face was serious but still he said nothing, always so sure that she was all right. "So then," he began licking his lips, his eyes daring,

"Getting out of this oubliette.."

Alanna huffed, rolling her eyes, "We're not getting out of this oubliette." She stated, "Unless Rugar says so, we're stuck here."

He cocked his head to one side, unable to understand her attitude. "Alanna when have you ever been so easily defeated."

She shrugged, avoiding his glare, "Maybe I'm tired."

"Tired? You? Never." It was a statement Jareth made, an inkling of humour in it. Yes, she thought, Jareth always thought he knew what for the best. He waited for her reply, their eternal trade of witticisms. Nothing more, nothing less. When she remained silent, his face narrowed thoughtfully and he stared where she did, the eternal blackness.

"Why did you decide to make oubliettes in the Labyrinth?" She asked, still staring, eyes still blank. He raised his eyebrows and sighed, a smile tugging at the side of his lips.

"I never planned on being in one."

She nodded. Her bright red hair making her complexion look more pale and sallow then usual. Usually it was full of energy and warm.

"Why do you ask?" He rested his elbow on the knee that was upright, pressing his fingers to lips, like he always did when he was puzzled. Alanna still wouldn't look at him, still gazing into nothing. She just shook her head, his signal not to pursue the subject any further. In the willowed darkness she looked distant, her eyes glazed. He began to get worried, more then intrigued.

"I remember when I first brought you to the Labyrinth and you and that damnable dwarf would chase fairies for hours on end, how old were you? Seven? Eight?"

"Nine." She interrupted. Face still emotionless.

He cupped his chin in a leather palm. He let the heavy air carry silence for a few moments. Not quite sure what to say, not quite sure why he was feeling guilty.

"Why didn't you send me to any of Fae couples that couldn't conceive? Why did you allow me to stay?"

As she spoke her voice was strange and her face twitched, almost as if she was listening to voices in her

head, and trying to ignore them.

"You were the only child who wasn't scared of me. Any others I took ran away when I spoke." He laughed in the memory, "You were the only one who wanted to stay."

Only her lips moved when she spoke, the rest of her was rigid, Jareth felt as if he was sitting next to delicate glass, which although faithful in it's use, was close to breaking.

"And I stayed. I stayed for one hundred and eleven years. I was there through all of your wars, I was there when your father died, I was there when some of the Lords tried to vote in a new King, I was there when Sonja died, I was there when you imprisoned Rugar. Never once did I defy you or disagree you."

The King became solemn and dropped his arm to his side, "And I am eternally grateful for that Alanna. You're one of my only friends."

She began to chuckle, "Friends." Her face narrowed, red hair falling down on the left side to cover her bruise.

"Don't forget all I have done for you. I rescued you, I trained you I never even asked why you turned down Christian, my own brother's marriage proposal. I have let you get away with things I would have thrown many in one of these goddamn oubliettes for. Do not insult my generosity."

She laughed hard now her whole body shaking, her green shirt was ripped and torn and he saw cuts on her abdomen as she rose to be away from him, her red hair falling limply behind her caked in dirt. "Do you want to know why I never left Jareth? Why I always saved your ass? Because it seems that even now you can't work it out."

The whole of her body seemed to be on fire, her eyes wide like angry pools of fire, and when she swallowed it was like swallowing daggers rather then saliva. And that was reality, one painful bastard who never relented, but Jareth never knew reality. He'd blocked it off for years. She stood under the metal grill, the sunlight casting rays like bars, almost as if she was trapped in a prison over body. She looked at him, more desperate, more emotional then he had ever seen her. And her couldn't think of a single thing to say. Except maybe sorry, but that word had always been alien in his mouth.

Alanna pulled a stray lock of hair which had clamped itself to her sweaty cheek behind her ear. The movement painstakingly slow, the eyes merely slits, she looked defeated and he hated the way the look hung on her beautiful face. Always was a beauty Alanna, he was surprised that even now she hadn't found a husband for herself. He never knew what stopped her.

"Do you really want to know why I turned down Christian?"

He said nothing, face blank, and her curved lashes fluttered, her eyes vibrating as she finally gave in.

"Because he wasn't you."

Jareth swallowed daggers.

And before he'd had the chance to process the thoughts. To curse himself for passing off her late teenage crushes on him as idolization, idolization that faded with time she was on top of him. Crushing the whole of the body, pressing him into her so painfully as if she was wanted to absorb him. The execution of so many years of built up desire and lust, which she had chained up for so long. Waiting faithfully till he would return the feelings, but he never would.

As she pressed her lips to his hungrily he could feel the salty tears cascading down her body, lining her lips, falling into his own skin and she was so needy. So very needy. Maybe he should have never rescued her that day. He never meant for her to fall in love with him. Gently but still with enough strength he pushed her away. But only after he allowed her a few brief touches of his lips, a few fleeting caresses of his tongue. He owed her that much.

The whole of her body became limp and feeling his protests she removed herself from his body and sat in front of him sobbing, hugging her knees to her chest. Rocking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, whispering to herself angrily.

He reached out for her, but at the last second dropped his hand to fall in his lap. He wasn't quite sure what to say, tell her that his heart belonged to another? Tell her that she was better off without him? He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to think of what to do.

Usually he hated any shows of emotion, especially crying. But this time guilt instead of anger lulled in the pit of his stomach. She'd removed herself from the penetrating beams that shone through the grid and sat, still rocking in the darkness, only the very tips of the ends of her hair glinted at the edge.

When he opened his eyes again he saw she had stopped rocking, but still hugged herself tightly, the sunlight still on a few strands on hair. And a silver object.

His dagger.

"Alanna why have you got my dagger?" His voice was low, suspicious and his hands trembled ever so slightly. He saw her whole body sigh and she stood slowly shaking, streaks of tears down her face, her lips and the hand that held the dagger trembling.

"He's in my head Jareth, I can't get him out. I've tried but he's too strong. You never should have underestimated him. This is the only way, the only way." Her voice was quiet and shaky.

He shook his head completely stunned as she stood over him; the dagger raised and pointed. He couldn't move, he couldn't believe that she would actually kill him.

She plunged the dagger deep. But not into his chest, into her own.

"Alanna no!" His commanding voice rang out into the silence as he watched her embed it even deeper into herself, the blood flowing freely onto the floor. He watched her breathing become disjointed and laboured and her eyes roll back in her head until she finally collapsed, the whole of her body convulsing. He moved swiftly to kneel beside her. The handle of his own dagger still jutted out from her stomach like the final nail in a coffin.

And he was completely powerless.

The blood began to collect around the wound like flies around a corpse, drying quickly and caking the smooth metal, and he could do nothing. He took off his gloves, it felt wrong to touch her with them on and brushed the loose hair out of her beautiful face. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"Alanna why?" He asked.

"He was in my head Jareth. Telling me to kill you with your own dagger and God knows it made sense. That's why we're in this oubliette Jareth, not just a place to forget, but a place to ignore."

He cupped her face, stroking dirt from her cheek. "I never meant to ignore you Ali."

Ali. Her childhood name.

"You weren't to know. It just wasn't meant to be."

She shuddered as a wave of pain coursed through her from the self inflicted wound. When it was done a faint smile touched at her now almost blue lips.

"I don't blame you. You're well matched you and her."

He licked his lips, he couldn't offer her comfort, she'd see through his hollow protests.

"Just do one thing for me Jareth."

His hand was beginning to shake as his elegant fingers pressed against her cheek.

"Stop deciding the rules of the game. Let other people decide what part they want to play."

Eyes closed she was unable to keep conscious and her head rolled to one side. Her heartbeat was faint, still there but not for long. He dropped his head, the white blonde hair cascading down, sorrow reaping through the whole of his body. Oh God he hated emotion.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

"Touching just touching. Not in the script but touching none the less." Rugar continued to clap, stood

behind them leaning against a wall of the oubliette. With a click of his fingers the dungeon lit. He wore a long dark purple cloak embroidered in gold with black undershirt and pants. On his hands were gloves with no fingers and he clasped them together as he spoke, rubbing the palms together in manic glee. Jareth stood to face him his lips twisted in a snarl. "Rugar how very inventive of you." his voice dripped sarcasm.

"I learnt from the best."

The two brothers moved, almost circling eachother. "Don't even try brother. You're no match for me here."

"Couldn't save Sonja, couldn't save Alanna, and as for Sarah...."

He licked his lips groaning, "Well let's say we've already become intimate. Not quite as innocent as we both first thought is she?"

Jareth's face remained cool, muscles tensed surveying and evaluating his options. He had none. If he let his anger get in the way now and tried to kill Rugar in revenge he might not be successful. It wouldn't be sensible to attempt to fight him. Rugar had magic and the advantages of home territory on his side.

But then when was Jareth ever sensible.

Jareth grinned, each muscle slowly rippling to form a sneer and before Rugar even knew what was happening he moved closer and swiftly brought his knee up between Rugar's legs. The man moaned in pain and he doubled over, then a fist flew as he shot upwards, Jareth blocked it easily chuckling. Rugar growled his face sweaty and the veins in his face pulsing in anger. He threw another punch easily blocked and avoided by Jareth who didn't fight back once still sneering. Everytime his knuckles didn't connect with the King's face Rugar grew angrier and angrier, and his fighting style sloppier and sloppier. Finally the King must have gotten bored, he ducked a left swing from his brother before striking him across the face. Fist meeting flesh with a satisfying crunch as bones cracked. Rugar stumbled backwards and brought his hand up to wipe the blood from his nose.

Jareth crossed his arms looking bored, "Quite finished?"

Rugar spat bloody spittle onto the dusty floor. "Oh no dear brother. I've only just begun."

Jareth sighed, "I wish you'd get on with it, this really is getting old."

Jareth's aloofness finally paid off as he was shoved roughly against the oubliette wall, a knife brandished at his throat. Blood still dripped from his nose and onto Jareth's dark shirt. "When I'm through with you and your precious Sarah you'll be begging me to stop, begging." His cracked voice seemed to savour those last words, but Jareth just raised his eyebrows in contempt, seeing he was not getting the reaction he wished Rugar growled and disappeared.

"You really should learn to control your temper dear brother." Jareth's mismatched eyes sparkled, the sarcasm and strength returned to his voice, "And you really should learn how to hide these things a lot better." Jareth lowered his voice as if lecturing and laughed at the same time. He brought a shining crystal up to his face marveling at it's beauty and it's luminescence. Like a small crystal moon. He twirled it around his hands a few times, reveling in the familiarity of the sensation.

The power to get out of this oubliette, the power to transport himself somewhere only once. He looked

down at the woman slumped on the floor, red hair splayed about her head like golden honey. The power to send someone somewhere. He knelt down by Alanna's head and pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. She wasn't breathing but life still pulsed slowly through her veins. As long as there was life there was hope.

"I can at least give you a chance to decide what part you want."

He threw the crystal in the air, the room glowing with magic.

Proud until the end.

* * * * *

Christian awoke to a throbbing in his head. Insistent, unrelenting. Groggily he pushed himself up by his arms to his knees and felt a sharp pain shoot through his side. Telltale signs of being transferred to another realm. Well, he couldn't have expected Rugar to have made it comfortable for him could he?

Heaving himself to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in his gut, Christian brushed the dirt from his breeches and looked around. He was lying on a tufted mound at the top of cliffs. He looked down to find a sheer drop where the rock was mapped with cracks and fissures, the cliff would crumble at any minute if he attempted to climb down. At the foot of the cliff, looking just like a mottled blob from where he stood, Christian made out the bog of eternal stench. But it looked more hideous then he remembered, if that was possible. The bog seemed to be on fire and acid and slime from the bog spurted up in all directions, setting the odd dying tree on fire rendering the swamp land barren and crumbled. All land exposed land was just ashes. Fading ashes.

But if the bog was there that meant that -

He turned around. Behind him the slope was gentler and his eyes landed upon a hillside ranked with dwarfish pines which fell away sharply into a valley.

The forest.

He began to walk. The pathway was gentle at first, but soon became steeper. Pine boughs overhung the way and whenever the fierce wind pushed them down it was as if intricate green paws were groping, trying to scoop him up.

He wasn't sure where he was going. He'd never ventured near the bog of eternal Stench before, he wasn't stupid, but he knew if he could get to the forest he might have a hope of getting to the Castle. Or of finding Sarah.

He felt his heart twist and prayed to Sirah she was okay. He didn't know where she was. She could be in the Labyrinth like him. Or then again she could be -

"You lay a finger on her and I'll -" Christian muttered through gritted teeth.

"You'll what?"

Christian spun. Behind him Rugar sat on a branch of a massive willow tree, smoking a cigar. He leered over at him, his cracked lips bursting into a vile grin.

"You bastard," Christian spat and made a run for him, intent on clasping his fingers around his neck. He found himself thrown backwards and when he tried running again he came face to face with an invisible barrier instead.

"Nuh uh little brother," Rugar jeered, waving a finger at him, "That's not part of the game,"

"Oh yeah?" Christian replied, eyebrows raised, "And what is the game? Abandon us all in the Labyrinth and try to kill us whilst we try to make our way to the castle?"

"Actually," Said Rugar with a sigh, sucking on the cigar, "It's abandon you all in the Labyrinth and kill you, but that's close enough,"

Christian snorted, "Eitherway it sounds a little bit familiar," He folded his arms over his broad chest, "Never could think up any ideas of your own,"

Rugar shook his head, "Won't work Christian. I won't fall foul of your jibes like Jareth does,"

Christian pulled a face, hate glimmering in his blue eyes, "What have you done with Sarah?" He asked darkly.

"Ahh Sarah," He licked his lips and his gaze faded away into the distance, "Sweet sweet Sarah. My she is a rare delicacy isn't she? No wonder both you and Jareth are so hot under the collar about her. So innocent," He murmured, running his thick fingers up and down the rotten branch of the tree, his swinging leg coming to a stand still, he met Christian's eyes with a twisted smile, "Of course not so innocent anymore,"

Christian felt himself begin to shake as he watched Rugar shudder, as if reliving some vile memory, "Your time will come Rugar. I'll see to it," He told him, eyes narrowed and his voice low.

"You forget little brother," Replied Rugar, regarding him with a cock of his head, "Just who it is in control of the Labyrinth now. So if I were you I'd watch that mouth of yours before I decide to rip your voice box out,"

Rugar momentarily scowled and then as soon as his face twisted it softened again into humour and he began to chuckle, "Do enjoy my Labyrinth Christian," he said, faintly yellow teeth glinting like tombstones in the sun, "Sirah knows I am,"

And then he seemed to melt into the shadows before disappearing. Christian shook his head, fuming and then punched the nearest tree trunk, imagining it to be Rugar's face. The decayed wood fell immediately to the floor and he withdrew his hand to find his knuckles bleeding. But it was of no use to stand around here getting angry, the best thing he could do now was make his way to the castle and search for Sarah and Jareth on the way.

As he entered the thick dark forest he heard a screech above him and looked up to see nightwings circling above. They resembled the crows like those found on earth, except they were monstrously large and had beaks lined with razor sharp teeth ready to sink into the nearest meat they could find. Either Fae or human. Christian felt a pang of fear, not for himself but for Sarah and prayed to God she was up to the challenge.

But then was the pang fear. Or guilt.

Afterall if it wasn't for him then she would never be here. And if Sarah died, the blood was on his hands. He wouldn't be able to live knowing it was his fault. Jareth was right. Again. He was an idiot. And Sarah would pay for his stupidity.

When the envelope of trees covered him, he looked around to see the forest was nothing like he remembered. Christian heard the sounds of birds and the low insistent purring of what were probably dragon cubs. But then there was something more sinister, the garbled squawking of nightwings. The cackling of spindrens far off in the distance. Trees arched over him, their branches thick and twisted, looking like clawed hands that wanted to choke him. It resembled nothing of the memory of the forest of his childhood. Where he and Jareth went hunting, competing to see who could bring back the biggest catch.

Everything was too dark. Obscene in the disfigured shadows that carved over the path in front of him which cut deep through the heart of the woods. The patchy grooves of pine bark were exposed by the horrible burn of a sun in the sky made cryptic and hideous to his eyes. The forest used to look so beautiful. But now all he could see were the diseased intricacy of the pine cones and leaves that hung from the crippled trees, hunched over like dying men, the grey green infectious moss which covered trunks and the pathway, soft and squidgy beneath his feet. It was alien, unnatural, ruled by that hellish fire in the sky

Rugar had done this, he had done all of this. Poisoned the Labyrinth. Obliterated a forest of such beauty where he spent many a day just walking through, just thinking. Greeted by the birds in the trees, the sunlight bathing his face in a warm glow through the gaps in the trees. He felt his anger peak and curled his fists at his side, his nostrils flaring. Rugar would pay for ruining the Labyrinth. For destroying his home.

His clothes were still slightly damp from the rain back in Nefar. Momentarily he thought of Nathaniel and cringed. His scalp was hot and he looked up to find the red swirling orb of the Labyrinth sun staring down at him between the mass of branches and dark faded leaves. It looked darker then it ever had before. Monstrous and hungry.

Around him were just trees, trapping him and hovering like predators ready to pounce. He saw the webs of the giant spiders and crossbreeds he knew hid in the forest. The threads glittered darkly at him, haunting him. But there wasn't time for fear.

"Sarah?!" He knew it was futile, Sarah was probably no where near here. But he had to try. He couldn't afford to have anymore regrets. "Sarah?!" he began to run faster. Suddenly feeling a sense of urgency. He heard the cackling of spindrens around him, dragged from darker realms by Rugar to corrupt the woods that were once so magical. He ran without regard for direction, simply bolting, praying that he might stumble onto the young girl with hair like ebony wood and skin as soft as honey. He darted in among the pines, avoiding patches of darkness where creatures may lurk as if they were pools of dark poison. But as he negotiated a steep defile bordered by an outcropping of boulders, he slipped on the carpet of needles and went sprawling, winding up crumpled on his side, panting and gazing directly at the dark bloody red orb of the sun.

He heard hissing all around him, seeping into his consciousness and froze. Spindrens. And they were near. Unintelligent creatures, which matched his own size. Eight legs covered in thick coarse fur and great gynormous jaws to swallow prey whole which knew only one thing; to find anything with a beating heart, wrap it up in it's sticky web and eat it. He saw something dark beside him, too dark and black to be a shadow and saw the leg of one. Oh damn, he thought darkly trying not to move.

He felt at his side for his dagger and was surprised to find it there. But then that made sense, Rugar didn't want them to die too quickly. Where was the fun in that?

Something ran across his vision and it took everything he had not to move. Spindrens had awful vision, they could only see him if he moved. But he couldn't keep still forever, they would find him eventually. But he needed to reach his dagger and that involved moving.

He felt webs brush over his feet, thick and heavy. It was now or never.

Swiftly he removed the blade from his belt and threw it as quickly as he could at the shadow darker then any other. He heard a low grumble of pain as something fell to the floor and quickly stood. He'd impaled it right in the one large black eye above it's jaw which now oozed with a yellowy gunky liquid which smelled like rotting meat. He reached to retrieve the blade quickly, but before be could remove it something grabbed him round the neck. As rough as sandpaper with a steel grip. He tried to shout but the bristles were too tight.

A Spindren hung above him, suspended by it's sticky threads, two legs wrapped around his throat. The others legs soon to join them. He stumbled backwards and forwards; his hands at his neck as he attempted to loosen the grip. But it was too tight. He felt his eyes began to water as he choked and his vision wavered from the lack of oxygen. The blackness crept upon him, ready to take him when suddenly the rubbery thick grip released from his neck and he fell to the floor.

It could have been the impending unconsciousness but he thought he saw colour. Bright red and orange flying about. Thought he heard insane laughter as spindren bodies were carried away.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of being able to breathe as he lay on the floor with the damp moss beneath him. Suddenly he felt a tugging at his right leg.

"Aww man, his leg don't come off," Came a high disappointed voice. Christian's eyes shot open and he came face to face with four Fireys gathered around him and more in the trees. I'd rather have had the Spindrens, he thought.

"That's because he's a Fae your idiot, their parts stay on," Came a lower voice, like a throaty rumble but just as mad.

"What?" Exclaimed the first voice and a Firey tail whipped at his vision, "Are you sure? Maybe we just need to pull harder," The tugging began again.

"Hey, hey hey!" Christian ripped his foot from the Firey's grip and it fell backwards with a loud "Ouch!" and scrambled to it's feet.

"We'll have none of the leg pulling thank you very much,"

"I think you should be just a little bit nicer to us Fae," Said the first one jumping up to be eye level with him, "Seeming as we just rescued your ass from that Spindren which wanted to *eat*your leg,"

"Thanks," Muttered Christian and carried on his journey, knocking over curious Fireys out of his path on the way.

"Well there's gratitude for you! We should have just let that Spindren have you! Stupid non body part removeable Fae," It shouted after him.

As he walked Christian felt the scurry of Firey's behind him before two more jumped into his vision, climbing along trees in front of him, "So," Said a new Firey, fatter then the first one, with a large sloping forhead and bushier orange fur, "What you doing in the forest?"

"Yeah," Started another one, "We heard all the Fae were gone."

"Gone!" said another head flying across his vision by it's large ears.

"All gone!" Another new voice and then sniggering.

"Well you heard wrong," Christian shouted back. Fireys weren't going to be of any use to him. They'd just hold him up, but he felt a pang of sympathy for them anyway. Rugar had left them in the forest, probably for food for the predators. But Christian was more likely to restore their home if they'd just leave him the hell alone.

"And now that's two in one day,"

"One day!" A voice repeated.

Christian halted and grabbed the nearest Firey by the scruff of it's neck and pulled of it's head. "Hey my head! That's against the rules. You should know better Fae," It exclaimed, big wide eyes twitching angrily in their sockets.

"What do you mean two in one day?" Asked Christian through gritted teeth.

"I mean two in one day Fae," The firey replied in a choked voice.

"One!"

"Two!" Were the shouts and a hand flew past his vision with two fingers up.

"What did the other one look like?"

"Like a Fae!" Called a Firey which had swapped over it's legs and arms and doing handstands to his side. More sniggering.

"Care to be more specific," Christian said lowly, "Or I'll throw your head so far you won't have a chance in hell of finding it,"

"Okay! Okay!" The Firey in his hands said, "Jeez, someone's stressy,"

"And not getting any less stressed," Christian reminded it.

"It was just as boring as you, wouldn't even let us remove a finger,"

"But at least she didn't throw off all our heads this time!" A Firey head screeched as it zoomed past.

"A she," Christian said dropping the head where it rolled onto the ground. Sarah.

"Yeah a she, what you never seen a lady before Fae?" Another voice shouted.

"Where did she go?"

"I dunno," The firey head on the floor told him. Christian put his foot on the head and it grunted. "No actually I do know," It squealed, "She went the way you're going now,"

Christian lifted his boot and began to run again.

"Thanks!" It called sarcastically after him, "Make sure you drop by again, I do so loooove getting my head all squished!"

He'd only run about two hundred yards, thinking he had left the fireys well and truly behind when he heard a shout behind him.

"Hey Fae!"

He turned to face the fatter Firey from before, "What now?" He said angrily, feeling his patience fading. Suddenly a dagger, his dagger, whirled through the air to embed itself in the tree trunk beside him.

"Thought you might need this," It called scrambling up the tree.

Christian withdrew the dagger and looked up at the Firey, "Thanks," He said quietly, gratitude on his face.

"Don't mention it," The Firey said shrugging and it's head fluttered off to emphasize the effect, "Just kill that ugly bald headed Fae okay?"

"Yeah!" Came a shout, "We want our forest back1"

"Kill the bald headed freak!" Screeched a new voice.

A dark smile slipped onto Christian's face, "Oh I will," He said, "You can count on it," And then he continued to run.

*****