The Plan Begins    Llynton climbed the ranks in the castle at an astonishing rate. Within a few days, he had gained Jareth's confidence, proving to be well versed on affairs of state and politics, and was a surprisingly eloquent advisor.    "I think it would be prudent to shift things into gear sire, and tell, nay show Lord Kardallen where he stands," Llynton had said to Jareth.    "Perhaps" was the reply, "though I'm still reluctant to start a war."    "Sire, permit me to state the obvious - it was he who started the war in kidnapping dear Lady Sarah. I am sorry to say it, but would you wish your subjects and the other Underground rulers to see you as a coward king, who refuses to fight back when attacked?" He looked Jareth straight in the eye, "fail to show your force now, and you may be opening the door for wide-eyed admirers of your Kingdom who would have it as their own."    Jareth considered Llynton's words carefully, and despite the justifications for avoiding a full-scale war, he found himself persuaded. The messenger waited patiently for him to write the declaration of war to Kardallen - Jareth was in some difficulty and often gazed out of the window searching for the words in the bustling city below. His eyes fell on Sarah and Llynton wondering through square, rapt in conversation. A vivid image of Sarah's limp, blood covered body flashed before him, and Llynton's words of warning echoed inside his head. He took his quill, and allowed the words to spill onto the parchment. The letter was finished, the messenger was translocated to Kardallen's kingdom; the deed was done.    Sarah enjoyed Llynton's company, and as they walked by the fountain, he told her of his travels through the Crossworld. "Whenever a person translocates, they temporarily journey through the Crossworld - they enter at a certain point, and use their magic to exit wherever they choose," he began. "I was unlucky enough to fall prey to a group of pixies, and the mischievous little tykes sent me there. It is very difficult to find your way out unless you enter knowing where you want to go."    "So where is the Crossworld then?" Sarah asked.    "It is not a place like the Underground...  it transcends it and exists on a higher plane. It is all around us, right at this very moment, though one must possess magic in order to use it."    "How did you escape then?" She questioned.    "There is a being who lives in the Crossworld known only as The Guardian - he is incredibly powerful, and is thought to be the founder of magic itself. When I told him of my plight, he took pity and sent me back to the Underground. I'm very thankful too, as the Crossworld is not the most welcoming of places."    Sarah didn't respond; she was caught up in trying to understand the concept of this strange place. She had settled on the analogy of a freeway - normal, non-magical people such as herself had to take the long, slow roads, though certain people could take the freeway, and get off at the exit they wanted. Unless you were Karen of course - her stepmother had a knack of missing their exit every time, sending them far out of their way.    Her recollections were cut short by a whistling coming from the sky - it was getting louder, and everyone in the square was searching the sky for its source. Sarah spotted a silver object streaking across the sky, leaving a purple blaze of glitter behind it.    The Goblins crowding the square tried to run into the narrow streets, the sea of creatures blocked the exits, rendering Sarah and Llynton unable to move away from the object heading toward them. They huddled to the floor, Llynton shielding Sarah from the blast with his arms. At once, the object was before them, and it came crashing into the fountain. There was no explosion as Sarah had feared, merely a dull thud. As she looked up, she saw what looked like a swarm of purple flies above the fountain, then all at once, it exploded, showering everything and everyone in itchy purple dust. The water from the fountain no longer flowed clear, that too was deep purple.    "Kardallen" accused Jareth's voice from over Sarah's shoulder.    "But how do you know?" She asked as he raised her to her feet. He gestured his head to the top of the fountain. Some of the shimmering purple dust had gathered together, and formed a crown speared with a large sword.    "His seal," said Llynton.    "Yes," replied Jareth. "My messenger must have reached the castle even quicker than I thought."    "Then this must be Kardallen's way of telling you that he accepts your challenge your Majesty," responded Llynton.    Sarah looked at Jareth for an explanation. "Messenger? What challenge?"    "I have just declared war on Lord Kardallen - this antic is his affirmation. We are at war," answered Jareth.    The bellowing laughter and screams of merriment could be heard miles from the castle. Kardallen sat aloft his throne with an oversized tankard of wine in his hand, surrounded by merry courtiers.    "That'll teach him to cause a scene in public!" He laughed, waving his drink in the air, causing large splashes of red wine to cover the floor.    "No, seriously," he said, calming the room with outstretched hands. "I only sent him a little gift to introduce a brighter colour scheme into that dull Goblin City."    "Aye," said a drunken onlooker, "he'll be sweeping up purple Goblins for a week!"    The roars of laughter recommenced, and the man was saluted by Kardallen's raised tankard. At that moment, a small Goblin Paige was bustled into the room by two guards, who threw him before the throne. The room fell silent, as they all knew that he must bring word from Jareth. The small creature gulped nervously, and cowered before Kardallen as he produced the letter from his satchel.    Kardallen threw his half-full tankard across the room, painting the wall with red wine. Taking the letter, he broke the seal and started to read it aloud to his trusted friends and advisors:      'Kardallen...  Long has our dispute spurred the contest between us - the taking of each other's possessions has been inconvenient, though has provided a healthy alternative to war. However, it seems that our mutual contentment with this scheme has been mistaken on my part, as your recent actions are without pardon. They are wholly disproportionate to our original conflict, and therefore leave me no other choice but to interpret them as an act of war.    Our differences are to be settled once and for all with a battle on The Planes - the victor is to receive the other's Kingdom as is customary in such dealings. The stakes are high indeed, though only serve to demonstrate the severity with which I deem your conduct. The battle is to commence five days from now, at sunset on the Eve of the first full moon. Should you fail to adhere to this declaration of war and not be at The Planes at the said time, you shall forfeit and I will take your Kingdom as victor.'    Kardallen looked at his companions for an answer, though they could give him none, they were just as shocked as he was.    "Sire, there must be some mistake" said a man at the back of the room. "It is he who is mistaken as to your intentions. Never before has such action been interpreted so severely."    Kardallen thought for a moment. "You, boy" he said as he grabbed the Paige's coat and swept him off his feet. "You will come with me while I write a response to this outrage, and then you will take it back to him." The Goblin nodded fearfully, not daring to defy such a foreboding man. "War?" shouted Kardallen; "I never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. I'll set him straight."    It was not long before the Paige was running through the corridors of Jareth's castle towards the Throne Room; Kardallen's parchment tucked safely in his satchel. He sincerely hoped Jareth did not wish to counter the reply - he would eat his own boot if it would mean he could forego another visit to Kardallen. As his tiny footsteps echoed down the dark corridor, a hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed the Goblin's coat, bringing him to a halt.    "And where do you think you're going little man?" The voice sounded menacing, and the Paige looked up to see Llynton's evil glare half exposed by a nearby fire lantern.    "Let me go, I bring a message for Lord Jareth"    "Oh, I see" smiled Llynton, though he failed to loosen his grip. "Pray tell, who is this message from?"    "That is not for me to say, sire, it is intended for his Majesty and him alone, now let me go about my business."    Llynton contemplated the Goblin's response, staring blankly at him as though trying to read him like a book. The Paige felt the eyes burn into him, and became transfixed, unable to look away from this calculating glare.    Llynton raised his free hand and waved it slowly in front of the goblin's panicked face. "Who is this letter from?" He asked again, maintaining his relentless glare.    "I can't...  I...  Kardallen, sir" The Goblin replied, unable to stop himself.    "And to what does it relate?"    "Lord Kardallen wishes Jareth to know the true intentions of his spell on the Goblin City, and says that there is no need for a war," he replied, completely overwhelmed by Llynton's spell. "He begs Jareth to seek an alternative to war, and to meet with him so that they may resolve their differences peacefully."    "I see," commented Llynton with a smile, setting the Goblin down on his feet. "Well, you have done a fine job, and I now relieve you of that duty - you deserve a break." Llynton quickly seized the Goblin's head and wrenched it to the side. The crack echoed down the passage, and was followed by the sound of the limp, fragile body slumping lifelessly to the ground. Llynton reached into the leather satchel and pulled out the scroll. He held it up to the fire lantern and stroked the flame with the parchment until it began to smoke. He waved it in the air before him, watching with a smile as the red glow devoured Kardallen's peace offering. He threw the scroll onto the Goblin's body, and as he walked away, he clicked his fingers with a theatrical gesture - the body and the burning scroll disappeared. Llynton whistled a tune as he walked down the passage towards the Throne room.    "Sire, I feel I must speak plain," said Derrin with an evident nervousness at speaking up against Jareth. "The other officers and I are concerned at Llynton's persuasion and involvement in our affairs - in truth, we know little of him... "    "How dare you question my judgement!" Jareth interrupted. "He saved Lady Sarah, something which you were evidently incompetent in doing. You simply begrudge his status because it is something that you have not yet earned."    Derrin took a step away from Jareth, not expecting this level of retaliation. His own voice was shaking, no longer through fear, but through anger, "I am sorry if my views seem out of place, sire, though it is my duty to express them."    "Duly noted," replied Jareth spitefully, "now, you will prepare the troops for battle as Llynton suggested, and as your King ordered."    "Yes sire" Derrin replied, and with a short bow, left the room.    Unseen in the darkness of the shadows in the passage outside, Llynton gave a smile - everything was going to plan...