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Shattered	By : TarnishedArmour Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 7713 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Based upon the work of Jim Henson; specifically Labyrinth, copyright 1986 by Jim Henson & associated parties. I do not own or have legal rights to Labyrinth, etc., or make any profit from them. *Individual disclaimers for other works in

Chapter List
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Sarah walked toward the town of Destria and saw above the road into town an arch. As she got closer, she realized the arch was not simply a welcome-to sign. Into the arch was carved, "Mercy is the essence of Excellence." Sarah paused, stepped to the side of the road so that she wasn't blocking traffic, and thought about this idea. Mercy, or the quality of being merciful, was generally associated with being guilty. It went more with gratitude, to Sarah's way of thinking, but she was supposed to get a better understanding of herself and the labyrinth from this. So she sat next to the road and pondered.
Excellence was to be and do more than was considered simply acceptable. Mercy wasn't much fun to beg for-she knew that well, now-nor was it particularly easy to give. And there was something in that set of statements that she just wasn't catching.
"Perhaps I'll understand it when I've rested," Sarah murmured, continuing to turn her facts and the saying over and over in her mind.
With that, Sarah stood, turned her feet toward town, and got back on the road. She walked into a small, thriving town, filled with young men and women in various kinds of armour. There were some people here and there among the armour-clad throngs who wore skirts or breeches and carried ordinary baskets or packs filled with goods. Curious, Sarah approached one of the storefronts and walked inside, seeing a middle-aged man behind a counter, a number of goods arrayed around his shop.
"Welcome, traveller!" he greeted merrily. "Have ye come for the training, then?"
"No, sir," Sarah replied, courteously. "I just came from River Crossing. I run the labyrinth."
"Ah. The you be here for the challenge," he said, nodding. "Before you head over to see the armsmaster, be ye in need of a weapon?"
Sarah paused. "I didn't know I was allowed a weapon," she said slowly. "I have no money, sir, to buy. I could barter," she offered.
"Barter is fine." He studied her for a minute. "Ye've the look a new magicworker to ye. Know ye the water charms?" he asked.
Sarah nodded, relieved. She worked well with water. "The most basic ones, sir."
"I'm no sir, young lady," he chuckled. "Call me Oliver. 'Tis what my mother did name me, oh, many years ago."
"Thank you, Oliver. Please, call me Sarah." They smiled and clasped wrists. "Now, I don't know much about weapons," she confessed. "What would be the most common weapon for someone like me?"
"Hmm," Oliver said, thinking. He looked around his shop. "Ye've the packs to manage, and ye've good clothes for movement." He walked over to a stand next to the back of the shop and returned with a thin steel dagger. "This, I think, will be the right weapon for ye, untrained. Later, perhaps, ye'll gain a sword or some other blade."
Sarah took the dagger from him and felt the grip. She knew that there were a series of tests she should use to make sure she wasn't being cheated, but she had no idea what they were. Instead, she decided to use the most basic of criteria: the dagger wasn't too heavy, and she didn't feel her hand straining or overlapping on the hilt. She nodded, noticing at the end of the hilt was a heavy, dark blue, faceted crystal. The blade itself had a pretty wavy pattern to it. She extended her magic to see if the crystal was a kind of focus stone, but it was an ordinary, decorative piece.
"It's very nice," she said, biting her lip. "I…hate to ask such a silly question, but I guess everyone just grows up knowing these things here. Can I work magic while I'm holding or wearing steel?"
Oliver gave a deep, rolling laugh. "Oh, aye, m'girl. As easily as ye work otherwise. Why did ye think the steel would matter?"
"Well, the stories about magic all say that metal, especially wrought metals and iron-based metals, inhibit magic," she said, feeling sheepish. She remembered Jareth's necklace, the one that lay against skin so often. She'd seen and felt it, more than once. It was gold and bronze and some harder, silvery metal-probably steel. He worked magic all the time. Then she remembered Marta and Giely. They worked and cooked in their kitchen with iron pots and pans.
"I work smithmagic," the man said smiling. "It's the only magic I have. I can created these, and armour, but everything else is, at best, a disaster." He shrugged. "Besides, magic is of this earth, why would other elements found in the earth prevent its use? We live in houses of cut stone and cured wood, not in some forest or cave. We wear tanned hides, spun, dyed and woven cottons, silks, and linens." He paused, then asked, "Are these things truly unknown in your home?"
Sarah nodded. "They are. Now that I think about it, it does seem a bit silly to need to ask, given what I've seen and done. Now, for the price," she said, tilting her head to the side. "Which water charms do you need?"
"Back in my forge," the man said, indicating for Sarah to follow him into the back of his shop. "Put your packs just inside the door here. They'll be out of the way, then."
Sarah did as she was bid, and looked around curiously. The storefront was only a quarter of the size of the forge. There was a huge bellows, all sorts of metal tools, and a few anvils of various sizes. Around the walls were bins and tables. At a few of these, some men and women of various ages worked quietly. Sarah watched, fascinated, as she saw armour being made-chainmail and platemail. She recognized these from her history classes. Her teachers had had a positive love of the knights and their codes, so they spent a long time on the Middle Ages and the chivalric knights, not all of whom were exactly chivalrous.
"Fascinating," she murmured. One girl was working on lining a pair of chain gauntlets with a sturdy cloth, then padding the wrists and joints with a light layer of cotton wadding. Another, an older man, was fitting thin plates over the shoulder joint on a breastplate. He took a long time with each, constantly checking the range of motion. The smith just smiled as Sarah got her first glimpse of a working smithy. The fires were quiet now, since the heat of the day was upon them, but would heat up again to working temperatures in the evening so that more manufacture could be done. While they were in the room, Sarah felt an abrupt pulse of magic, it felt and sounded like the discord of a breaking guitar string, and winced. She looked around for the source and saw a thin stiletto blade snapped clearly in half, lengthwise. The pair working on the piece began to curse and blame each other for the mistake.
"Enough, children," the smith said, walking over. Sarah followed, curious as to what had happened. She saw the snapped blade and watched as the smith studied it. "This steel is too thin for such an enchantment. Remember, the stiletto is made to slip between the plates of armour, or into the gaps holding the pieces together. It doesn't need to pierce the steel plates or chain. You will make this again," he said firmly, "together," at his words, the two began to object to the presence of the other, not necessarily the remaking. "And you will do so properly this time."
"Master!" the boy objected, "she keeps enchanting the steel at the wrong time in the forging!"
"Blame me for your lack of rhythm in the blows?" she cried, offended. "I could time the casting if you'd keep to a single pace instead of trying to match whatever snippet of song is in your head that second!"
"Oh, like you could forge proper steel! Your judgement of what blows are needed is as weak as your timing!" His voice raised a bit more, and he tried to loom over the girl.
"Not so! You are the one who failed to finish the first dagger properly! It was brittle with impurities!" She rose to the challenge and stood nose-to-nose with her adversary. They had both forgotten the smith, their Master.
"Right, and you're the bloody-" The boy was cut off.
"Enough, Journeymen." The smith frowned at the two, now looking guilty for their lack of manners. "For now, you will move from here and pull three full lengths of wire. Each. No magic, Wynta. No physical work, Rulf."
Gritting their teeth, hating their assignments, and knowing better than to argue, the two got up from their benches and went to practice their fine skills. Wynta, a strong magicworker but not very skilled physical smith, hated this type of assignment. Rulf, who had the opposite problems, a strong smith but not very good magicworker, wouldn't mind the assignment nearly so much if he wasn't paired with her. They walked over to the wire-pulls and, taking their positions, began the tedious, difficult work.
"Ye're too kind to them, Oliver," said the old man who was working on an intricate silver necklace. "That kind of insubordination deserves the taste of leather, not more practice at their profession."
"Mm," Oliver replied. "Perhaps you are right," he grinned suddenly at the old man. "But I will have six excellent lengths of wire, and you won't be the one pulling it."
The old man laughed softly and nodded. "Well, there is that." He had never looked up from the silver feather he was shaping in the low heat. Sarah watched him work, studied the shape of the necklace, and finally saw the shape. Gasping, she drew a little closer, not realizing she moved until Oliver took hold of her arm, keeping her from jostling the older silversmith.
"An owl," she breathed, "stooping for prey. Oh, it's going to be beautiful!"
The old man smiled at her appreciation and surprise. He wasn't even half finished and she'd already twigged to the shape and form. "Perhaps I'll keep this one to the side, in case you return," he said. "Are you here to learn the craft?"
"Um, no," Sarah replied, suddenly feeling very rude. "I'm here to cast a charm for Oliver. I didn't mean to distract you-"
"A compliment from a pretty girl is no distraction," the old man said kindly. "If my son gives you any difficulties about the spell, well, send him back to me. He may run things now, but he's still my boy. I let him run things so I can finally work on the pretties, not the weapons and armour." He gave her a conspiratorial look. "If you really want to know, though, 'tis Annalis, his wife, what runs the place."
"I heard that, Father," replied a woman, not far away and working on a leather-and-cotton padded coat to go under standard chain.
"I meant you to, woman," the old man replied, starting up a bit of teasing back and forth while they worked.
Sarah, unable to stop a giggle, followed Oliver over to the quenching pools next to each anvil. She studied the pools and saw that they had been enchanted years before, but those had worn off over time.
"Sarah, for that dagger, would you work a filling charm on these pools? We have to fill them every day now, and we lose much time to the task." He looked down. "It doesn't seem like much, but we do supply many things for the novices and knights. Sometimes, we even get a commission from the King's army, and without these pools working properly, we get terribly behind." He pointed to the fill mark carved in the side of the pool, and Sarah could see why it would take so long to fill from trips to the well. It was over two feet low, and the pool was deep. Seeing her look of surprise at the size of the pool, the smith smiled. "When we finish a piece, we can just pitch it in, if that's what it needs, or we can suspend it from one of the hooks." He pointed to the hooks above the pool, ready for chains laden with worked metal. "Depending on what we've got working and what we've finished, pieces sometimes need to soak for days."
"I see. Well," she said, finding the keystone for the pool and studying it carefully. "I can work the charm," she replied, kneeling on the large, dark stone that held traces of magic in it next to the largest pool, "but I can't guarantee how long it will last. It definitely helps that a previous charm was cast here. The stone remembers." With that, she gathered her magic and paused. "Should this be cold water, or should the temperature vary?" The smith answered her, and Sarah began building the shape of magic she needed in her head. This was more difficult than recharging the hearth in River Crossing, since she wasn't simply pouring power into a ready receptacle. Closing her eyes to block out the sounds and magic around her, Sarah immersed herself in the feel of working water-based magic. It was a cool relief, both to use her magic and to work with something as cooperative as water.
Several minutes later, Sarah released the magic in a surge of power. It spilled from her mind, down through her hands, and filled the greedy stone. The amount of power it took to fix the first charm in place left her gasping. The feeling was strange, somewhere between a keen loss, climax, and relief. Both the strength of the charm and the rush of her magic to leave her made her head swim and the she swayed in place.
"Sarah?" Oliver asked, concerned as she swayed. He didn't dare touch her until she opened her eyes. "Are ye well, girl?"
Finally, Sarah opened her eyes. "I'm okay," she said, her voice dreamy. "I just didn't expect the stone to be so…empty." It was the best word she had for it, and that didn't come close to what the huge black limestone had been. Limestone loved water enchantments, much as the hard, igneous rock of the hearth had loved its fire charm. Sarah nearly fell when she stood, the loss of magic leaving her suddenly weak. "May I finish these tomorrow?" she asked as Oliver caught her and kept her from falling into the deep pool.
Oliver felt a sudden surge of guilt. He hadn't realized how intense these charms were. They had seemed so simple when he'd tested them, but then his magic didn't work well with anything but metal, so he was forever misjudging the power and work required to cast other magics.
"No, lass," he said, helping her to sit down at the table where Wynta and Rulf had argued only a little while before. The guilt he felt and the need to more formally apologize affected his relaxed, homey accent. He used the manners and education he had received from the school at Central City, the capital of the Central Lands. He was a smith, true enough, and many responded to his relaxed, home-grown charm. Such an easy manner did not mean he was an uneducated fool, and his father had seen the need for a well-educated and knowledgeable successor. Oliver had been the son chosen to take over the smithy as he had the talent and desire to do so. The other children had gone their ways, though they did return home in the winter months as they could, telling tales and introducing extended family to extended family. "I should apologize. I didn't realize you were so new to your magic."
Sarah waved that away. "A deal is a deal," she began.
"And if I'd know how deep these charms went, I'd have given you more than that for your due." He paused, thinking he knew what kind of Runner she was. "Listen, if ye finish these next two walls in good time, come back and, for finishing these charms, I'll see to it you're fitted with proper armour and weapons. The armsmaster will also train you," he held up a hand at her protest. "He has a running tab here for his students. This will reduce what he owes me by a considerable amount." He paused. "Or I can pay you the difference, and you can engage an armsmaster on your own."
Sarah bit her lip and thought about it. Finally, she nodded. "All right. I'll finish the enchantments for the armour, weapons, and training." She paused, then asked, "Is there an inn here?"
Oliver chuckled. "With all the students and adventurers we have around here? Of course! Tell Quinn at The Underground Way that I sent you and to treat you proper-like. Rest here until you can walk without falling over." He gave directions to the inn and left Sarah sitting in the back of the shop.
She wasn't far from her packs, so she scooted down the bench and picked up her waterskin and rummaged until she found a small pouch of dried fruit mixed with some delicious roasted nuts. Thinking it amusing that she hadn't liked trail mix until she was actually on this trail, she snacked and drank the cold, wonderful water of the faraway mountains. As she snacked and rested, she watched the work in the room. The pair being punished, or they seemed to view it as a punishment, worked very carefully. It seemed they knew that they could have had much worse done to them, so were making every effort to keep Oliver happy.
The old man stood and stretched. Seeing where she was in the room, he lifted several small boxes of his work and took them over for her to see. He smiled as he saw her watching the bickering pair who, in the interests of not having to redo this work, too, had called truce and were working diligently on their wires.
"So," he said, sitting next to her. "New here, and busy running the labyrinth, I understand. Well, there's many a thing here will seem different than what it is."
"I know," Sarah replied, then introduced herself.
"I'm Tolliver," he smiled at her.
"Did you mean it about the leather?" Sarah asked, suddenly cautious. She'd heard the remark, and it had sounded an awful lot like a certain king she knew.
Tolliver chuckled. "No. Never needed to use it, and I made sure to show Oliver how to keep from using it, too. Never did like it, myself. Good reminder for those two at how good they've got it, though."
Sarah watched them and nodded, thinking they could have gotten much, much worse, and probably for less than what they had done, too.
"Now, I didn't come over to talk about such depressing things," Tolliver said, distracting her from her thoughts. "Take a look at these and tell me how you think they should be displayed." With that, he opened the first box and showed several charms that would go on simple chains or leather thongs. They were small, mostly made of cheaper metals, with only some in the silver or gold that she was used to seeing, but had a light, airy quality to them.
"They're lovely," she said. "May I?" At Tolliver's nod, she lifted one charm and held it up in the light. It reminded her of a delicate, viney plant blowing in the breeze. "These would be pretty if they were hanging on thin wires or hooks from a little stand." She put that one back and spent several minutes picking up different charms and admiring them. She put the last one back in the box, not noticing the attention the old man was giving her.
"Here, take a look at these," he handed her the next box. She opened it and saw reds and golds, coppery colours that reminded her of flaring matches and fires. They were pretty, some of them incredibly lovely, but they didn't have the same appeal to her as the delicate charms from the first box.
"They're very pretty," she said, her voice polite. "I guess I just like the more delicate charms," she added. "These are more…definite." She shook her head, "No, they're stronger. The shapes are stronger, less room for interpretation of form." The old man nodded. She could see he wasn't offended by her summation. "I'd put these on a slightly bunched, strong, rich fabric, something like red velvet or a red-gold brocade." She looked around the back of the shop. "Um, if you have those, that is."
"Ah, Oliver can get a length of it," he said, grinning. "Display problems, that's the only reason these little beauties aren't up front. We never have really dealt with the pretties, just things martial."
"Oh." She handed the box back and waited for the next one. These charms were strong in shape and form, but they weren't as bold as the others. They reminded her of Celtic knots and rune-tablets. The first charm she lifted was solid, like a darkened iron, and it had an abstract shape, but somehow she got the impression of hills and some rocks from it. Each of these designs was like that, deceptively heavy, earthy. "These are wonderful," she said, studying a wire globe made with thin, dull silver wire that somehow had the most solid pattern she had ever seen supporting it. "Green. Lots of green. At different heights, too." Sarah paused. "Like the valleys."
He gave her the fourth box, and smiled as her eyes lit up and her mouth opened. She couldn't even speak. Inside were several charms, ranging from small to large, like the others had, but made of graceful curves and tinted silver and steel that reminded her of water. Tolliver watched, bemused as she reluctantly put the last piece back into the box. With a sigh, she closed it and returned it to him.
"Those were amazing," she said. "Just beautiful." From her tone and expression, he gathered she'd liked these the best of the four.
"And how should these be displayed?" he asked, enjoying the longing gaze she had directed at the box.
"On a pile of ribbons, all different shades of blue and green," she replied, just seeing the display in her mind.
"Well, then, I must have your help in putting these displays together tomorrow," he said. "These others have work to do, and Oliver needs me to take the counter tomorrow anyway, while he takes the week's shipment over to the armsmaster-whose name is Redok, by the way. Nice, as armsmasters go." Tolliver paused, adding, "In exchange for helping me set up this display, you'll have your choice of charms. No one as lovely as you should be without a necklace."
Sarah blushed, and thanked him. It was one thing for Jareth to call her beautiful in that way he had, but for Tolliver, well, it was just so sweet that she couldn't help it. They agreed to meet the next morning, and Sarah stood. She felt rested now, if not completely refilled, magically, then at least not drained.
"Thank you for your time, Tolliver," she said, taking her leave. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow."
"As am I, dear girl," Tolliver replied, watching her shoulder her packs and walk out the door. "As am I."
As Sarah worked on the display the next morning, she listened to Tolliver explain how he'd become a silversmith, some ten years before. He had been badly injured in an accident at the forge, an his shoulder would never regain the strength he needed to swing the hammer or even to pull wire, since that required care and steadiness of arm. Instead, he was stuck putting armour together and checking enchantments, which bored him to tears after his years as a Master. One day, just feeling sorry for himself, he'd picked up an ingot of silver used for inlay on ceremonial armour they occasionally made, and began as he put it, "fooling around to see what I could do with it." He'd always had the knack for designs and pretty inlay on various things, but this was different. With a bit of practice, he'd become rather good at it.
"And I also discovered that my affinity for metalmagics had grown over time. I could work almost anything now, and have a good outcome. I started concentrating on that, and I kept doing the inlay on the rest of the stock, but as time went on, I got more and more involved with my pretties." He chuckled. "Oliver reminded me I was still a Mastersmith, so I decided I'd use the reputation I'd built over the years to sell more than just a few commissioned pieces." He arranged a sharply pointed bronze-copper piece on the red material Sarah had bunched up in places and smiled. "And that grew into this."
"Sounds like you enjoy it," she commented, placing the last piece on the little stand Tolliver had produced from the back. "There. Done."
They looked over their handiwork and smiled. "Beautiful." The compliment was clearly directed at Sarah's sense of style, not his own work. "I'll set these prices, and let Oliver deal with the rest of it. You write, I'll give the number and the price." Sarah lifted up the tablet by the moneydrawer and nodded. He picked up one piece and flipped it over. The number over his mark was clear and bright. "All right, this one is A12-2, for six silvers." Sarah nodded and wrote neatly the char-stick reminding her of a pencil and her time at the Lady's house, learning to use the writing implements of this particular kingdom.
An hour later, they had the catalogue done, and Oliver returned to see the arrangement on the shelf next to his counter.
"Well, I see you finally took my suggestion," he grinned to his father. "These trinkets might actually sell."
"Hmph," Tolliver replied, nose up. "My name's still on the sign, brat."
Sarah laughed as they continued going back and forth with their comments. From the way they looked together and at each other, she realized they weren't upset, just teasing. It reminded her of her back-and-forth with Karen over the last two years.
Oliver said one last thing and Tolliver raised up a fist, mockingly. "You keep that up and I'll turn you over my knee!" Oliver went back through the door, laughing. Sarah could hear the ring of hammer on anvil as the door opened, then closed.
Tolliver turned back to where she sat, chuckling softly. "And as for you, young lady, it's time for you to choose your charm."
Sarah bit her lip and looked over the selection. She knew how much these cost now, and the one she liked best was very expensive. She looked at it once, then chose a smaller piece that she liked very much. It didn't have the same mysterious quality to it, but it was still lovely.
"No," Tolliver said, gently. "That won't do." He lifted the one Sarah had liked so well the day before, the one she had placed carefully among the ribbons in the central spot. "Here." He pulled out the ribbon that had been coiled around it so lovingly and threaded the charm onto it. "This one is yours, Sarah-and don't argue. You've done more help than you know with this display. My reputation for arms and armour was strong, as my son's is. Our names still grow, but I'm also known for my finework, now. This will just make it easier for people to decide what they want and like, and I'll grow even richer from it. Take it, with my thanks, my dear."
Sarah held out her hand and gently took the ribbon from him. She tied it around her neck and felt the heavy silver fall into place just beneath her collarbone, displayed neatly above the vee of her shirt and jerkin.
"Thank you, Tolliver," she replied softly. "For letting me help and for the necklace." She looked at the door. "Do you think I could work on the small pools now, or is it still too busy?"
Thinking for a moment, Tolliver noted the angle of the sun in the windows. "They're probably just finishing the last few things. I'd suggest getting a bite to eat in the inn, then returning her to do the work. In fact," he said, dipping his hand to his belt where a money-pouch was strapped to his belt. "You can pick up lunch for me, too. They have these interesting meals at the inn for those who have to take their lunch to work or home-I think they're called sandy witches, though I don't know why. No sand in them anywhere, and I'm sure I've never seen a witch eat one." Sarah nodded, doing her best not to giggle. "Tell them to fix one for me, and get one for yourself. There's enough for a skin of wine, too. We have cups and plates here."
Sarah nodded and accepted the copper coins that spilled into her hand. She left the smithy and storefront to go to The Underground Way to get sandwiches for Tolliver and herself.
After lunch, Sarah settled at the second largest pool, which was barely half the size of the first. Again, she used the stone that had previous enchantments laid into it and she concentrated on what she had to do. This time, when she released the magic, it poured from her and gently filled the stone. When she finished the stone, she wasn't really tired or light-headed, so she moved to the next. She figured out by the end of it that using magic, especially one charm practiced over and over, did make it easier to do each time. When the Lady had assured her of that, she'd been skeptical. Now, though, after expending the same amount of energy as she had the day before, but this time not feeling like she'd been hit by a truck, she knew the Lady wasn't making it up.
Resolving to get in as much practice as she could, Sarah stood from the last pool.
"There," she said, nodding to Oliver, who was trying very hard not to hover. "Finished." She gave him a smile. "These were much easier."
"Sarah, I cannot begin to tell you how much work you've saved us-and given us!" Oliver chuckled at this. Sarah did, too, knowing it was true.
"It was my pleasure," she replied. "Now, I guess I should go meet the armsmaster, if you made the arrangements this morning?"
"I did. He's expecting you." Oliver gave her directions, clasped her wrist again and said, "Bright paths, Runner."
"Bright paths, Mastersmith," Sarah replied, walking out the door and heading to the armsmaster's salle.
As she walked, she thought about the town. How was she supposed to reconcile the whole Mercy-Excellence thing when she was casting charms and talking about getting weapons? She mulled over the events of the previous day. There was something there that she needed, but it was just out of reach.
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Shattered