“If I may,” Jareth requested as he stood at the table, his glass raised high. All eyes turned to him, “Thank you. We come together tonight to celebrate the completion of the first week of classes held in the schoolhouses built, and rebuilt, by Mason.” There was a small round of applause for the dwarf. Hoggle sat quietly a hurt expression on his face. Sarah tugged at the king’s frock coat and pointed, “With Hoggle’s help of course.”
“I didn’t do much,” Hoggle sighed. Sarah smiled across the banquet table at him.
“Everyone has done a phenomenal amount to help make lady Sarah’s dream a reality, especially our fine instructors,” Jareth acknowledged the goblins to his right and the room erupted with shouts and applause.
Among them there was some discussion until one was chosen. It was the father of six who Sarah formed a close bond with from the time of his interview. “We cumulatively wish to thank the lady Sarah for the opportunity she has given us to give opportunity to others.” His eyes teared and words choked in his throat. “For a great many years my father’s father passed his knowledge to generations of my humble family and among the lessons he taught was that no breathing thing was any better than another because of his education, only more responsible to share what he has acquired. What you have presented me does more than satisfy my responsibility. It’s not just the future which stands to benefit, but the past that stands to be fulfilled.”
Sweetly, Sarah smiled back at him. Her lips refused to form a reply, but the streaks racing to her chin from her eyes were answer enough. A quivering hand rose to her mouth and then waved a kiss back at the lot of them.
“And so, this concludes this evening’s celebration. Thank you for joining us, please feel constantly welcome in our home and safe travels to you this night.” Jareth bowed himself at the final round of applause. When only the residents of the castle remained the king made one final announcement. “Business of another nature takes me from the castle this night as well. I will be at the service of the Cleric and my assistant knows of my whereabouts if I am needed. Sarah my love, would you kindly escort me upstairs where I can gather my things.” Obediently she rose, taking his arm and following him to their room.
***** ***** *****
“I’m rather certain we should move tonight. It is me after all whose been doing all the spying up ‘til now. He plans to honor the mortal’s tradition of spending the night before her wedding separate from her betrothed. He’ll be alone in the meadow by the falls, waiting patiently for morning so he can go to collect the Cleric.” The Shadow King took on a gleeful look as he continued, “As he lies in blissful dream we’ll bind him and carry him off into the wood, I’ll step into his place, marry our sweet princess and by morning’s light, we’ll make you king and slaughter Jareth in the public square.”
“It’s brilliant,” Tiberon agreed, “but doesn’t it all seem a bit like they’ve played into our hand?”
“Of course it does you idiot. They have played into our hand. None of them suspects a thing.”
“Ever hear the expression too good to be true?” Tiberon asked the king.
Jareth’s double only laughed back, “What about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? You know Tibby, you’ve become a very unessential portion of this plan. If you’re feeling chicken all of a sudden, I could just sneak into the woods myself tonight, kill Jareth in his sleep and assume his identity as well as his throne.”
“You ungrateful wretch,” Tiberon hurled at him.
“Now, now, mind your temper. Ruling some place as droll as the Underground doesn’t hold the slightest bit of interest for me. It’s yours for the taking, it would just be nice to see you want it a bit more.”
“You couldn’t understand want. You have no idea what it’s like to deserve something all these years and then finally be able to taste it,” Tiberon told him. “It makes one worry about what’s been overlooked.”
“Tell me I’ve no idea, eh. Exactly what you think it’s been like being me all this time. I had brilliant ideas on how to run that wasteland. Superb notions of turning the goblins into slaves and now their being educated, by a mortal. All the while he moped about after she was gone, all the while he let his empire crumble, all the while he wasted what he had earned by nothing more than surviving the process of birth. Don’t you think it occurred to me once in all that time it was the darker king who should have survived? The one who knew what to do with authority?” The Shadow King stepped close to the Representative. “Do I understand the want? I do, but I have grown so far passed the want that I gladly hand the kingdom to you for the pleasure of revenge. That’s my motivation. Have all that belongs to him in this life, but I,” his eyes grew black as he tightened his hand around Tiberon’s throat, “I shall have the life.” The Representative’s feet had left the floor and his face had begun to grow pale just before the Shadow King threw him to the floor and started for the Northwest sector.
***** ***** *****
“Your mortal traditions are silly,” Jareth told her as he kissed her once more. “The mere notion that I’m complying with them should be well rewarded on our wedding night.” His jagged teeth nipped her neck.
“What more reward do you desire than our union?” Sarah asked coyly.
“None, my love. You are the greatest reward this life can give me.” His lips met hers once more and they kissed as if their very lives depended on those moments to sustain them. “Until tomorrow,” he told her , kissing the back of her hand, he vanished.
Sarah lie on the bed, the heat of her king’s affection still warm on her lips. Since she was just a little girl, she’d imagine this night, perhaps more than she had imagined the wedding night. Virgin bride was a delusion she’d let go of at a relatively young age, but that anticipation of becoming a wife, that had lasted the test of time. And it was more intense in her now than she had dreamed. Her eyes wanted to rest, to appear perfect for the tomorrow, but each time they closed, they sprung open again, far too eager for the sun to rise. She readied for bed in one of the silk chemises Jareth had made for her and slipped between the sheets made cold by his absence. The stars seemed to cling in the night sky as she looked on praying for morning until her tired eyes gave way to the inevitability of sleep and the probability of dream.
***** ***** *****
Just as anxious as his soon to be bride, Jareth walked to the falls when he could have as easily snapped and been there. Traveling so primitively gave him a chance to reflect on just how lucky he was. Sure he was marrying the woman he loved for what seem like all his life, for to him life had only truly begun when she had become a part of it. But there was more, more he wagered that even he had not begun to learn. The night air was like a stern hand on his cheek. Wide awake he reached the water’s edge. A thousand fire fairies trimmed it’s edge while the other woodland creatures moved about.
Twink greeted him as he came close enough to see all they had done. “Whatcha you think?” she asked and then quickly added, “And if you hate it, lie to me.”
“Lie to you my darling girl. Since which century have I been able to do such a thing.” His arms engulfed as he swung her high into the air. “My only complaint is that I can’t decide which I enjoy more, this fabulous stone alter or the swags of flowers you’ve no doubt spent the entire day braiding.”
Tiny hands swatted his chest, “Dare you set me up for that veiled compliment, why I’d knock you cold if tomorrow weren’t your wedding day.
“I’m afraid I could use the remedy. Seems I can’t turn my head off long enough to get any rest.”
Twink hopped down from his grip. “A cup of tea then. We’ve set up a camp for you over the rocks,” she pointed to the far side of the falls. “You go settle in and I’ll have a steaming cup of chamomile for you before you can say suoicodilaipxecitsiligarfilacrepus, backwards.”
“Quite alright,” he told her. “I’ll just wait for you to get back at your leisure.” There was a canvas tent set up beyond the falls, inside a thick mattress complete with a downy spread to ward off the chill. Just the way a king preferred to go roughing it. A snap of his fingers settled him into his pajamas. No sooner had he decided to test the mattress, Twink returned, tea in hand. “Thank you,” he told her as he accepted the steaming beverage. You’ve all been most kind.”
“Nonsense. You think it’s only your piece of this kingdom that girl’s done right by. Why the woods are the safest they have ever been and the turn out at our rings have doubled in size.”
“Sarah will be pleased to know of this.”
“Then perhaps I can convince the two of you to forego the tradition of a reception and join us for a festivity to pale all others.”
Jareth chuckled, “Perhaps we shall. Now into the wood with you,” he admonished playfully. “A fey has got to get some sleep before he’s taken out of the single circle for all of eternity.”
“Or perhaps just taken out,” the Shadow King laughed from the bushes.
***** ***** *****
Beneath the safety of a pillow, Sarah hid from morning’s light. What once she craved had now become her enemy. Head full of dreams she didn’t want to end the perfect imagery of what the day could be by waking to find what the day was. Outside the security of the duvet was the obscurity of chance and as the schoolhouse had taught her no amount of planning guaranteed the anticipated result.
“Miss Sarah,” Arulan sang as she came bounding through the door. “Time you woke to meet this day. Deverell has left me explicit instructions to have you ready for him when he comes to collect you.”
“Collect me?” the girl asked as if she’d never heard of the plan.
Arulan sat next to her on the bed. Gently tossing the pillow aside, she broke the barricade which kept night from escaping Sarah’s eyes. “You act as if you didn’t know what was in store for you. A mother knows things her children never tell her,” she smiled. “Everyone else around here might be able to rank all this oddness up to the success of the schools, but then why not the entire Triumvirate, why just the Cleric? And when I’m told to come and ready you, why not an ordinary shift or something adorned with beads or gems? Why this?” Her hand tapped the garment cover she’d placed over the bottom of the bed.
“Why what?”
“This,” the elf threw back the silk drapes that covered the gown. The top was hard satin, strapless, with pearl trim. Around the waist a lavender wrap which created the waistline for layers of taffeta and crinoline which, when standing would fall easily to her feet.
“Arulan, it’s amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so. I won’t have my son elope with some frump, now into the tub with you.” Sarah’s jaw hung open. “Under an elder counsel quality interrogation, Deverell cracked.” Worry fogged over a normally brilliant green eyes. “No need to fret, deary. I’ve no intention of sneaking off to the falls to see the whole affair. I’ll stay here and maintain your charade, but consider this my gift. I know it’s nothing much like the dress you’ve chosen for the formal ceremony, but I thought it would do nicely.”
“More than nice, it’s fabulous.” Her hands fluffed the layers of the skirt before grabbing hold of the woman who brought it to her, “Thank you Arulan! Thank you a hundred times!”
“For what? I didn’t do a thing for there is nothing to do anything for. Now into the tub with you before your late for nothing.” A wide grin on her face she practically dragged Sarah from the bed and shoved her into the bathroom.
***** ***** *****
“Something isn’t right.” Deverell said as he pulled his boots over the legs of his breeches, “Something just isn’t right.”
“What’s the matter?” Arulan asked as she hurried around him, pulling on his shirt and doublet, straightening his hair. “Shoes too tight?”
“No, it’s not the shoes. It’s not the clothes. It’s not the hair. I don’t know what it is.” He threw his hands up in frustration, “But something isn’t right.”
“Well you best figure out what doesn’t seem right quickly enough.”
The king’s assistant fell down into a chair nearby and groaned. Slipping his fingers inside the top of his boot he noticed they were a little loose. “Maybe I’m making something out of nothing.”
“For everyone’s sake, I hope you’re right.” From the closet she pulled out his coat and dress sword. “Come, come, I still have Sarah to dress.”
Slipping into the jacket, Deverell straightened his lapels. “I’m sure it’s my nerves.” Arulan reached to fashion his belt around his hips. “Tell me again why I’m carrying a sword?”
“It’s a dress sword. Think of it like jewelry. This is a formal occasion and you should look the part even if you’re not functional.”
“Not functional,” he raised a brow. “Now I know why Jareth keeps you from the motivational speeches.”
The elf blushed. “Beg pardon sir, I didn’t mean...I was talking about...”
His hand caressed her cheek lightly, “Dear woman, I know what you meant. I was making light to alleviate my own nervousness. You’ve Sarah to get ready, no sense in you wasting any more time with me.”
“As well I do.” She left him to his tugging at hems and adjusting sleeves, from the doorway she looked back one last time and smiled as she watched him restyle his hair one last time.
When she’d left him, Deverell went to his bureau and from beneath a stack of shirts, pulled the one accessory he knew would make him feel less anxious.
***** ***** *****
“Just a few more buttons and...” Sarah turned to see herself in the mirror. Her hair pinned up and curled, and her eyes done up in a soft lavender to match the sash. “Now we’ll tie this up,” Arulan told her as she straightened the large bow in the small of Sarah’s back. “You look like a perfect doll,” the elf told her.
“That’s just it, Arulan. How am I going to get out of the castle without everyone suspecting something?”
“Ah, ha,” Arulan told her. “Slip these on.” Before her on the floor, Arulan placed two crystal slippers.
“Now I know this is all a fairytale,” Sarah sighed, pinching herself on the arm. “Ouch! You’re serious. Glass slippers?”
“Crystal dear. No time to waste. Step in.”
“Arulan how are crystal slippers going to get me passed the staff unnoticed.”
“Come now, what would you do in any other fairytale?”
Un easily Sarah balanced on her toes and clicking her heals together, “There’s no place like...the waterfall?” she guessed.
Giggling madly Arulan stopped her. “Heaven’s no. I meant Deverell would sneak you out while I distract everyone else. Ten minutes,” the elf took her by the shoulders. “Good luck.” Hurrying away she ran off to cry in private.
***** ***** *****
“Be sure he can’t move his hands, not one inch,” Tiberon remind the Shadow King as he secured Jareth deep in the wood. “Hurry! Hurry! The Cleric’s going to be waiting.”
“Repeat that one more time, was it that you wanted this chore done quickly or effectively?”
Tiberon paced nervously before them. “Save your sarcasm for someone who gives a damn.”
“You give a damn don’t you Jareth, my sweet,” he asked his double with a quick pat on his full mane. “Shame I’ve got to keep you gagged this way. I do so love to listen to you wax poetic at me about how to better my soul.” Jareth garbled something over the wad of cloth wedged deep between his jaws. “Save your strength your majesty. You want to look your best when we string you up in the square tomorrow.”
The king struggled to set himself free, his eyes raging at the imposter wearing his face. They knew as they looked at him, they were lucky to have him restrained. Set loose, he’d have no doubt taken them both on and the fire in his stare suggested he would have been victorious. “Not so much as a finger able to wiggle,” Tiberon noted, admiring the Shadow King’s work. “I’ve been too hard on you. Perhaps you deserve some reward. I know,” the Representative seemed thoughtful for a moment, “might I offer you a bride.”
“A bride say you. I was just thinking how someone with all I have to offer, really ought to have someone to share it all with.” Gathering up the outfit Jareth had chosen especially for his elopement, the Shadow King had only snap his fingers and he was dressed. “This,” he indicated Jareth’s dress sword, “will never do.” Another spell and cold iron replaced the ornamental blade. “My mortal deserves the best,” he boasted.
Linking arms, they left the forest, prattling on with their snide remarks about Sarah as they went.
***** ***** *****
“Jareth!” the Cleric welcomed him with considerable gusto. “Today is the day then, eh? And your palm is dry as sand. No nerves here, then. Well let’s get you to your bride before our little secret is discovered shall we?”
“Indeed,” the Shadow King smiled crookedly as he walked behind the Cleric.
Tiberon watched on from the rocks as the Cleric stood at the alter, the Shadow King straight as an arrow, watching down the path for Deverell and the mortal. At the back of the aisle the fairies had created with garland and lace, he left the smiling bride, a reassuring hug and joined his master’s twin before the Cleric. “Arulan said you’d be in your dress best,” Deverell noted, lifting the scabbard that hung from Jareth’s hip. The king shifted uncomfortably. “You are one lucky man,” Deverell reminded him as Sarah slowly approached them.
“Yeah, lucky, that’s me,” he replied. Deverell chalked it up to nerves.
Slowly she seemed to float toward them, in her arms a single orchid, a symbol that spoke of love and beauty. Each step brought her closer and made her thankful she could not feel her rubbery legs. This was her destiny, that fact kept her from crying. The Goblin King had chosen her and she felt made for him. A quaking hand settled into the king’s when Sarah joined him at the alter. Smiling, she waited for him to say something, something about how she looked or how much he loved her, anything. The Shadow King only leered at her lasciviously. Wishing she had a shawl, Sarah drew her shoulders in as they turned to face the Cleric.
“It fills my heart with tremendous pride to be asked today to officiate this secret ceremony. To unite today two individuals whose love has infected an entire realm is the essence of my position here.”
The Shadow King turned his head in an attempt to hide his smirk, but his reaction did not escape Deverell’s keen eye. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Fine. I just didn’t expect to get emotional so soon.” Intentionally he bit his cheek to force his eyes to water.
“In observation of both the customs of a mortal and the tradition of our world, we gather here today in the company of this witness,” he indicated Deverell, “to unite the Goblin King, Jareth with his beloved Sarah Williams of the Aboveground. As testimony to their union I solemnly swear I have personally witnessed the love they have professed for one another. I find them willing to lie down their lives for one another and to cling to the same for one more day together. They have learned to compromise and as evidenced by our small gathering here today, they refuse to concede when met with opposition.” Sarah and the Cleric exchanged a short chuckle at his well worded proclamation. “Before the Supreme One and the mortal’s God, I testify my words as truth. I now invite the members of our party to testify the same.”
Deverell spoke first. “All I knew of the Goblin King was legend when I was sent to be his servant. All I heard seemed a contradiction when he took me in his wing and groomed me to fill the position that I hold in his home. All I knew of mortals was told to me around the fire in the eerie gloom of night like some horror story, but meeting the lady Sarah dispelled those myths the moment I saw her take charge to rush to the king’s aid when he was attacked. Since then I have watched them work together to better this kingdom. I have watched them bring the best out of their subjects and the best out of each other.”
From behind the rocks Tiberon rolled his eyes.
“Sarah love, ladies first,” the Shadow King nudged.
“I didn’t know we’d be expected to say anything,” she admitted.
The Cleric reached for her, “Speak from your heart dear.”
“What can I possibly say now, I haven’t already said.” She sighed, “When we first met, I found you a pretentious, selfish, monarch whose confidence was higher than his IQ, but since I’ve been back, I’ve found that you have a number of layers, each necessary and each loveable to a point. As with any work of art, abstract and impressionistic, he is best viewed in his entirety. To see the whole of him, is to know the whole of myself. I am unfinished without him to share my life.”
“Well said,” the Cleric applauded. “Jareth.”
Normally not at a lack for words, the king now stuttered as he spoke, “I...I...If someone were to ask me if I thought I would ever take my place beside this fetching maid,” Deverell cringed at the words he’d chosen, “I would have told them they were mad, but here we stand, against all odds, despite how much some individuals protested this union. I will have this woman for my queen, this beautiful woman. Together we will rule the Underground, continue to better it and populate it with our brood.”
The Cleric looked strangely at the king. The bottom of Sarah’s stomach felt like it had fallen out. From behind them came a booming growl, “Now that’s something I would never say!”
“Jareth?” Sarah cried when she turned to see him standing there, identical in every superficial way to the man at her side.
“Come to me Sarah, quickly.” The crystal slippers on her feet slowed her some as she threw the orchid from her arms.
Filling his hands with the lavender bow, the Shadow King lunged for her. “What’s the matter darling?” he asked pulling her into his grip. “Cold feet?”
“Let her go!” the Goblin King shouted.
The cleric stood stunned, watching them react to one another. “What’s going on?”
“I believe my king gave you an order,” Deverell said while trying to explain what his eyes saw. “Let her go.”
Sarah had begun to cry, not surprisingly. Jareth moved closer to them, but his advance only seemed to bring laughter to the Shadow King. The Cleric, had asked for an explanation of this, but Jareth asked him to stay out of it in order to keep him from implicating himself. His position was not to uphold the law and muddying his hands in this fight without the Gavel to pass judgment could only stand to have him dethroned. So he watched on helplessly.
“I’ll call him off, if you let the mortal go,” Jareth wagered him.
His offer didn’t seem to phase the duplicate king, other that is to say than to increase his laughter. As Jareth saw in his peripheral vision the Cleric fall to the ground, he realized why. Tiberon had left his harbor of stone, knocking out the clergyman and showing his face for the first time. “No deal Goblin King,” he announced.
“Why am I not surprised? Tiberon, you’ve already struck down a member of the Triumvirate, your fate is sealed. Why give them more to try you for?”
“Oh, it’s so like you,” the Representative raged. “Had you just stayed put, the Shadow King would have married your little whore and returned to your kingdom, accepted by everyone as king. In the morning I would have staged a siege on the castle, at which time your battered body would be drug in to substitute for his and the entire realm would have celebrated your public execution in the square upon the request of the king. Then when the formal marriage had taken place, Jareth and his eager young bride would have renounced the throne and gone off to start their lives together.” His paces brought him closer to Sarah and as he turned his attention to her Jareth made his way closer to the group mesmerized by the fear on his mortal’s face. Tiberon’s hand swept over her open chest and Sarah’s breath hitched between sobs. “Appointing, before they left, the rightful king to hold the throne which should always have been his.” Turning to face Jareth who was now only a few steps away, the Representative added, “But you don’t seem to care about what I want.”
“Not particularly,” Jareth admitted.
Reaching around the mortal, his hand hugging close to her form, Tiberon withdrew the Shadow King’s sword from his scabbard. “Let’s finish this,” he said into Jareth’s mismatched eyes.
“Tiberon, let’s be logical. What can two unarmed men do against you in battle?”
Lacing his arm around the Shadow King’s throat, Deverell’s impetuousness bested him and through gnashed teeth he offered, “I’ll snap his neck at your command majesty.” The Shadow King only laughed wildly at the suggestion.
“Snap his neck and I’ll run her through,” Tiberon countered. The Shadow King buried his head into Sarah’s neck, kissing her and tasting her flesh. “They make a lovely couple don’t they?” the Representative antagonized.
Unable to take another moment of what his love was being subjected to, Jareth charged at Sarah’s mid-section knocking her loose of the Shadow King’s grip. Deverell, having let loose the king when he saw Jareth set to charge, was quickly by her side, fending off the Representative as she drug the helpless Cleric to safety. “Best we keep the dead weight out of the way,” Tiberon told him as the two kings scuffled. “Oompa,” he shouted as he hoisted the sword back to the Shadow King. Replacing the blade to his belt mad him now virtually indistinguishable from the true king.
Deverell made a jump at the now unarmed Representative. “To protect the kingdom, I will kill you myself, if it is what’s to be.”
“Leave me be boy. It isn’t your blood I want to spill,” Tiberon told him refusing to fight back.
One of the kings spoke up. “Deverell, let this end. We can take Sarah home and leave these villains to the hands of the Triumvirate who will no doubt come for them when the Cleric does not return home.”
The other king added. “While I agree with my adversary that this must be ended, it is I who is your king Deverell, do not listen to this imposter.”
“He is the imposter,” the first king reiterated.
“Rich! Lovely and rich,” Tiberon said gleefully from the ground. “A game of whose who. What a splendid way to spend the afternoon.”
The first king lunged at Tiberon, belting him square in the face, “If I were not the king would I attack my own master?”
“I’ve taught you to interpret your surroundings better than this Deverell, you know who is the real king and who is the imposter.”
“So I do,” Deverell said as he grabbed the king closest to him, the one which had just punched Tiberon. “You shall no longer disrespect my king,” he announced, his fist digging deep into the fey’s gut, pushing the air from his lungs.
“Deverell you fool, I am your king!”
“Then let me beg the mercy of the Supreme One for the wrongs I commit, both those I have done knowingly and those I have done unbeknownst.” Deverell drew back his fist and buried it a second time.
The king withdrew his sword, “If you insist upon fighting me, let’s make it a fair fight, shall we.”
Deverell drew his dress sword, “If that is what you insist on, but a blunted blade will do neither of us any good.” The king seemed shocked to see he’d pulled a dull blade.
Tiberon eyed the king at his side. “Shall we pair off?” he offered the Representative, drawing the blade he wore. It was a true sword.
“Have you gone mad? Sit and watch what we have created. The king is about to die at the hands of his very assistant.” Tiberon told him.
“The Goblin King is a selfish man, Tiberon. Don’t forget that. Even when he claims to give away all of what he has, he finds a way to retain just a fraction.”
“Your point?” he asked nonchalantly as he watched the men in the field before him clashing their non-weapons as if it were a real battle.
The cold edge of a sword pressed against Tiberon’s throat. “He is not everything evil about me.”
“Clever,” Tiberon told him as he bent back at the pressure of the blade. “You managed to change the sword.”
“Fast hands from centuries of doing magic.”
“Fast hands and a sharp tongue,” he jabbed. “You mean to kill me then? The way you killed my father! Have at it! Show your hussy what it is you truly are beneath your pin on heart of gold.”
“I mean for you to live, but only to regret this day.” Pulling back his sword, Jareth offered, “Draw if you wish to fight, otherwise concede and consider yourself captured.”
“What fun would that be?” he asked the king before drawing his sword and matching the dance of the other men in the field.
While the sounds of clashing metal rang on in Sarah’s ears, she tried to revive he Cleric. Small hands snapped against his cheeks, her tears rebounding off his closed eyelids and all to no avail. His body lie limp in her arms and unyielding weight in her lap. His pulse and his breathing the only signs that life had not abandoned him.
Against the trunk of a tree, the Shadow King had pinned the young fey. Unpredictable changes in terrain set Deverell off balance just long enough for him to lose the stalemate. The dull metal sword pressed against his throat like a stick, forcing him to gurgle as he gasped for air. “Tell me why I should spare you?”
“For one, you’re using a dress sword.” Deverell told his attacker.
The Shadow King spat back. “There is more than one way to die. I am your king and you refuse me. The enemy collected secrets from our kingdom and you gave them away willingly and do not think I haven’t noticed the way you eye my bride.”
“She’s not your bride.” Guilt tore at the young fey’s soul as he tried to sound bold, confident that this was not his true king, despite the doubts he had.
Pressing the stick deeper into his throat, The Shadow King continued, “Because of you. You went to investigate Tiberon, did you not, or was that a ploy to give the enemy more details? I’ve lost my mortal and my kingdom, my very pride to you.”
Reconsidering the events of the last few weeks, Deverell thought about the odd behavior of the king. How much it seemed like the behavior he saw now. Almost motionlessly he slid his heel along the trunk. “It was you,” he accused “All this time you’ve been trying to turn me against the king, you who knocked down the schoolhouse. You infiltrated the kingdom, posed as his majesty.”
“Do you hear how ludicrous you sound?” The Shadow King asked.
Searching the top of his boot, Deverell’s nimble fingers pulled out the dagger he’d stored there earlier for good measure. This was not his king, not Jareth. Why his king had himself warned Deverell when he used this same showy tactic of it’s vulnerability. If he could keep him distracted long enough to get a sturdy hold on the blade, he could best him. “You had access to the lady Sarah, to all of Jareth’s servants and subjects.”
“And what direct access I had too,” the king laughed as his tongue flicked in and out against his bared teeth. “No one questioned me. Not a one of you. Not even the virtuous lady Sarah, but it would have been more difficult for her, what with my cock lodged in her throat as it werrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.......”
Between a moan and a growl the hard consonant of his final word dribbled from his lips as Deverell plunged the dagger deep into the Shadow King’s ribs. Warm and sticky was the blood that covered him, as he stared in disbelief. “I should have liked to have you for a disciple, for you are more deceitful than I gave you credit for,” the near lifeless king spoke.
“I worship no false king,” Deverell proclaimed, tossing the body aside. “Least of all this one.” His feet carried him fast to Jareth’s side.
“Your advisor comes our way bloodied,” Tiberon announced.
Jareth gritted his teeth, “Save your lies.”
“I am the son of a nobleman,” he countered.
“Let’s not go so far as that.” Despite the accompanying rational conversation, the fighting continued.
It was Sarah’s shrill voice that ultimately staved them. “Jareth it’s true. Deverell, are you hurt?” she called.
“This blood is not mine,” he told them in disgust as he approached. “Your Shadow King is dead, Tiberon. Give up this fight.”
Part of Jareth knew before the boy arrived, felt all that was cold about him die, but the confirmation filled him with an odd sense of grief and satisfaction combine. “There is no one left to take your side,” Jareth told him. “Lay down your sword now and I will plead they take pity on you.”
“You wait until now to show me compassion. Now when I have no one. Even if your merciful Gavel sends me free, to whom shall I return? If you want to show me compassion, kill me. End my torment, do yourself the favor.” Tiberon fell to his knees and cast aside his weapon. “You know my tendencies, if I am free, I will only lie in wait until I am again presented with someone eager enough to try to best you again. Heed me when I promise you that next time I will kill the girl first.”
In that moment Jareth saw himself, felt his arm pull back the weapon, watched the tip as it came ever closer to the Representative’s chest. Tiberon waited, his eye closed, satisfied his death would not be blamed upon the king, but knowing those who watched him die would always wonder if the bit of evil only minutes earlier Jareth had proudly declared still his, hadn’t got the better of him just then and when it might get the better of him again. As quickly as the blade advanced it stopped when it met his chest. “Until now, I have always treated you different, maybe it was my hate or my conceit, but in the end, I owe you fairness. That is why I’ll keep you here to face the judgment of the Triumvirate, because that is what is fair.”
“Since when have you been fair?” Tiberon shouted. “The girl will tell you. Is the Goblin King fair? Answer truthfully, when has he been fair?” Sarah and Deverell looked on in disbelief as the Representative went mad before their eyes. “Will you remain blind to him until the end? He is your false king, he is your turncoat. I may be evil, but I have never pretended to be anything but!”
“Silence!” The Gavel stood behind Jareth as he spoke with authority. “Healer, tend to our brother. Jareth unhand this man.” The king stepped away. The Gavel used his magic to shackle the Representative. “Tiberon, you are charged with crimes of treason and attempted slaying. How do you plead?” Despite his remaining silent, his face showed the guilt. “Games are not something I prefer to play. Were you engaged in a plot to over throw the king?”
“Yes.”
“Did you conspire with another whom you passed off as the king as part of that plot?”
“Yes.”
“Are you responsible for the condition of the Cleric?”
“Yes.”
“Did you threaten and/or display the intent to kill the king?”
“Yes,” he admitted almost proudly.
“And the lady Sarah?”
“Yes,”
“Tiberon, Representative of the Southeast sector of the Underground, son of Darien, former King of the Underground and Liril, a commoner, you are charged with the crimes to which you plead guilty. It is the judgment of this court that you be remanded to the mountains where you will await trial and sentencing.” The Gavel’s arms rose high above his head and Tiberon disappeared. “As for you Jareth, what actions have you taken that find us here today?”
Having well since made his way to his mortal’s side, Jareth braced her shoulders, “Last night as I lie in my tent, they came. Into the wood they took me, deep into the wood where I was restrained. Twink, whom I had informed of our plan made ready the details which greeted you when you arrived and by chance she wandered back to watch in secret. That was when she found me, by the grace of the Supreme One and set me free. I readied myself in a duplicate of the outfit which had been stolen, turning their plan to my advantage and including a functional sword, then sent her for the rest of the Triumvirate.”
Deverell joined them, “Surely you knew your secret would be revealed if they found us?”
“Aye,” Jareth told him as he stood. He shook the fey’s hand and embraced him. “As you fought so bravely for those you cared strongly for, I too rank my personal pursuits below the lives of those I love.”
“Moving, but his secret of yours,” the Gavel stole back the conversation, “is not something I can allow.”
“As well I suspected. It was my plan for us to elope here by the falls today.”
“Elope?” the Gavel asked.
Sarah spoke this time, “It is a mortal concept, to marry in secret prior to the arranged wedding date. It is an idea I orchestrated.”
“Not alone I am sure?” She averted her eyes. “You speak without making a sound, miss.”
“It wasn’t her idea. I believed that if I married her in secret you would have no way of sending her back. The entire plan was mine,” Sarah clung to his arm. “And the Cleric’s participation was at my request. He was against this from the start.”
Beside them the elder stirred, “Speak for me when I am dead, but breath fills these lungs and my days of doing as others suggest to me are long since passed.” He struggled to sit up while the healer tried to hold him to the ground. “Let me alone. I agreed to marry them here tonight because I believe in their union. I believe in what the girl has done and if the mortals can show change than aren’t we obligated to show it in return. You claim you’re a victim to the law, but your chains are made by elders past, you forge each link with your own fear.”
“If I were in your current situation, brother, I would choose my words carefully. Your deception here today jeopardizes your position in our counsel,” the Gavel reminded.
Rising to his feet, the Cleric disputed him. “I committed no deception. I went where I told you I was going to meet with Jareth as I told you I intended. You never asked me if I was to marry them or even the nature of our meeting. It is not our way to blame the person doing the replying when the wrong questions are asked.”
“He’s right,” Jareth added.
“He makes a point. Even so, you disobeyed an order of the Triumvirate.”
“In fact your highness, I did not. We neither engaged in mating nor did we plan to move up the date of our wedding or to replace that holy event with this elopement.”
“All this aside for now, there are matters more delicate to be decided here. Sarah’s work with the schools has been successful, or so I am told. I did not believe before now I would send her Aboveground, but this whole event has made something clear to me...”
“Damn it!” Jareth shouted. “We have done everything you’ve asked. We have sacrificed. We have made modifications and improvements to the kingdom. I will not let her be punished for the love we share. I won’t allow it. I forbid it!”
“Be that as it may,” the Gavel went on, “I was about to say that after all that has transpired here today the thing which has become abundantly clear is that Ms. Williams should be christened as quickly as possible for her own protection.” He turned to the Cleric, “If you feel you are capable of performing a ceremony which will not be held in secret.”
“Quite capable,” the Cleric agreed.
“Jareth, I can only assume that if you had an objection, you would have well since voiced it by now.”
“No objection.”
“Fine then, let us all take the rest of this day for rest. In the morning your garden will host this Christening,” the Gavel announced.
“Tomorrow?” Sarah asked.
In reply, the Gavel questioned, “Are you not ready to become a member of this realm, Ms. Williams?”
“Quite the opposite,” she quickly retorted. “You mistake my shock for doubt. Why the very idea of becoming one with this world makes me giddy.”
She was learning about living here, undoubtedly. “Of course.” The Gavel pursed his lips, “Brothers, if we may.” The Triumvirate stood side by side only momentarily before they disappeared.
Sarah fell into the arms of her king. “Jareth, they’re going to move up the Christening. This is fabulous.” As much as he wanted to share her joy, he was too worried about what would happen afterwards to fully enjoy this moment.
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