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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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Armsmaster Redok was an imposing man. He was tall, dark, heavily scarred, and kept his grey-streaked hair long and in a tight queue, accenting the scarring on his cheeks and neck. His eyes were like black mirrors, giving Sarah no hint what to expect from him. Something about him reminded her of Jareth.
It wasn't his build, but the way he carried himself. His back was straight, his shoulders wide and strong, though he wasn't stocky like Oliver had been. He was built like a wolf, muscled for endurance, not brute strength. Still, there was an indefinable quality about him that made her want to toe the line and rebel in equal measures. He pursed his lips and looked down at her.
"So you're the girl I'm to train for Oliver," he growled. He couldn't help growling. His throat was heavily scarred, inside and out, and everything he said, even compliments, came out the same way. He'd given up on trying to convince people he wasn't angry and just let them come up with their own interpretations of his words. He spoke very little.
"Yes, Armsmaster," Sarah replied, being carefully formal. She didn't like him, exactly, but she didn't not like him. For someone so used to knowing exactly what she thought of people and things, even when she was wrong, it was very odd to have any ambiguity in the mix. Her lack of certainty frightened her, not him.
"Any previous experience?" he asked, leaving off subject and verb. Sarah figured this was a habit with him.
"No, sir, not really," she confessed. She felt more than a bit foolish.
"Don't wear what you can't use," the armsmaster replied, looking at her dagger. "Or do you think that's a multi-purpose tool?"
Sarah looked at him. "I didn't think wearing this would be a problem," she touched the scabbard where it was belted to her waist. "It was just easier to carry this way."
Redok stifled a groan. Another one. He always got the ones who were completely clueless. Well, they had to learn something from someone, sometime. May as well be from someone who doesn't screw up the teaching.
"All right then, we'll start with a basic evaluation," he saw her start to object and lifted one hand. He was gratified when she hushed. "You can finish the walls without more than that, but I have to know what I'm working with before I start giving you lessons. Otherwise, I can move too fast or skip something you need and you'll be the one paying for it later."
Sarah nodded and prepared to take orders. The evaluation, which centered on her movement, strength, and bodysense, began. When she flubbed a particularly simple thing, she apologized and asked for the chance to do it again, stating she could do better, as she frequently had done before she started her run. None of these exercises were particularly difficult, and many of them borrowed heavily from the dance training she had done. She just needed a few minutes to practice, to remind herself of what she already knew.
"No." He'd said nothing else.
Sarah thought that was rather harsh. She started the next exercise and nearly stumbled when she realized that she understood the quote now. Mercy led to excellence when the one receiving the mercy didn't want to have anything worse happen to them, or they knew it was part of a fair requirement that took place of a punishment, like Wynta and Rulf pulling wire; however, when one asked for mercy without having need of it, it tarnished the desire to excel and allowed one set and accept lower limits for oneself. It was one hell of a realization, but one Sarah knew she had to take to heart. She made a mental note to ask Jareth if a realization was lost if it was transmuted into a lesson taken to heart, but knew she'd have to do that later. She concentrated carefully on her next task after making a mental note to call Jareth that night.
This time, the armsmaster seemed pleased. Well, if he wasn't pleased, he wasn't frowning as much.
That night, Sarah was in her room at The Underground Way and spoke softly into the air.
"Jareth? Can you come for a visit?" she asked.
The king in question appeared, leaning nonchalantly against the door to her room.
"Yes," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "You needed something?"
"I had a few questions," Sarah confessed. "About time here, and a little about magic."
"Go ahead," he replied.
"If I have a realization, but it later turns into something deeper, like a lesson taken to heart, does it still count as both?" she asked, biting her lip.
"No. Once it moves from the realization to something deeper, it ceases to be a realization and becomes the second thing. Next question."
"How much time did I lose in the labyrinth while we were…out?" she asked, not knowing how to phrase the question about where they had been.
"Ah. That's a much trickier question. You see, time here does not flow the same way as time there. Your time is measured easily, quickly in those pesky seconds humans like to bat about. Here, it depends upon the people themselves. There have been very long times, when not much was being learned or remembered, and there have been incredibly busy or fast times when new discoveries were taking place right and left. One hardly had a chance to breathe before the seasons changed." He paused. "The reason we always use human years to measure our age is that it is easier for everyone to understand. For example, if I told you I held the understanding of a man who had seen truly thirty-nine years, what would you ask me?"
"How old you were in years, not in understanding," Sarah replied, seeing the difference. "So even if one is old in years, one can be young in understanding. Like the goblins at the castle."
"Exactly. And those goblins will grow older, yes, but only in the physical sense." When Sarah looked at him curiously, he explained. "They're children, really. They were…stunted, unable to survive in goblin society, which is rather brutal. The gana and grasch, goblin women and men, have little tolerance for anything other than strong goblins." Jareth grimaced. "Which, combined with the way they reproduce like rabbits, is why they comprise the bulk of my army."
"Funny," she replied, thinking over the places she'd been. "I've not seen a goblin. Only a few elves, and a dwarf or two. Maybe something else-very tall and beautiful?"
"An ogre-a real one, not your storybook kind. They're quite good with magic, though not so good with planning out their cities." He smiled. "I must tell you about their capital, Ogran. It's quite an amusing tale." Jareth waited for a moment. When Sarah didn't reply immediately, he prompted her. "Well?"
"Oh, sorry. Why do you keep the goblin children in your castle?" She stopped, even more confused. "And why do they have an entire city?"
Jareth laughed. "You didn't think that was my home, did you? It is the castle beyond the goblin city, it isn't the castle at the heart of the labyrinth." He walked over and tipped her chin up to him, towering over her as she sat on the bed. "You never came close to the heart of my labyrinth, dear girl. I'm well aware of how it seemed, but what is the rule?"
"Nothing is as it seems," Sarah took a deep breath of relief. "Good. That means when the whole thing fell into pieces, it wasn't really your home. I've felt guilty about that since I left."
Jareth was tired, so he quit looming and sat down next to her. "Nothing to worry about. Kept the kids happy for months, picking everything up and putting it back together." He paused. "I really do need to check the construction of that tower, though. It wasn't the most solid thing then, and I don't want it to fall down on them while they're playing at castle." He relaxed a bit. "And you will see the goblin cities, my dear. They tend to live in the areas most likely to be attacked or disputed, though no one's tried anything serious for some time. Better to let the potential invaders encounter the goblins and those who live among goblins first, not the more peaceable people of the realm."
"Like in Mab's section," she added, nodding. "Okay, I can see the reasoning." She thought about Tolliver and Oliver and weapons and training. "Jareth, I made a deal with the Mastersmith Oliver. He mentioned I needed a dagger, at least, for a weapon, and I bartered for it. We struck a fair deal, and in the end, well, I have arms and armour and lessons with the armsmaster here, Redok. Is any of that permitted?"
"Necessary," Jareth replied. "If you'd done something truly wrong, you'd have known it. What did you barter?"
"The filling spells on his quenching pools had run out. I replaced them." Jareth's eyebrows rose. That was some pretty heafty magic. "And the first one was a doozy. The smaller pools required just as much, but they didn't make my head spin. Why was that?"
"You haven't used magic in several days, my dear, by your body's time, if not any one particular measurement. The first spell you cast, if it was a stronger spell than you expected, would have done the same, even if it were as simple as changing the colour of your clothes. A filling spell is more complex, but not outside your reach." He grinned at her. "Besides, the only way you'll grow into the potential you hold is by your grasp exceeding your reach."
"Oh. That makes sense." She nodded. After a moment, and a look of uncertainty that included avoiding his eye and biting her lip, Sarah asked her biggest question about magic. "Jareth, would you create a crystal?"
He gave her an odd look and complied. The crystal appeared on his fingertips and he switched it from hand to hand, teasing her with her own actions on the day he'd re-entered her life. When she held out a hand, he spilled the crystal onto it and watched as she mimicked his actions, watching the spinning sphere as it rolled and spun. Suddenly, he felt an odd twist of magic and saw her catch his crystal and an identical one in her hands.
"I did this once before, and…was that a mistake?" she asked, obviously frightened. "Jareth, I don't even know how I did it!"
Jareth lifted his sphere, the one he could feel clearly. The magic in it was intimately his own. Then he took the sphere she had created. The pulse of magic was weaker, erratic. It echoed her heartbeat. The crystals weighed the same physically, but the original sphere had a much heavier feel of magic to it.
"Do you still have that other crystal, Sarah?" he asked, raising her crystal to eye level. When she hesitated, he paused in his study of he orb and gave her a sharp look. "Sarah?"
"It's…hard to be around the crystals. I want to touch them, spin them, but if I do, I just know it won't be…a good idea." She shrank into herself. "Please don't make me get it."
"You must, Sarah. I need to study these." He wasn't exactly reassuring, but he did add, "I'll be taking them with me." While she rummaged through her pack, he studied the heart of the crystal. "Have you created one from your own magic yet?"
"No," she replied, handing him the sphere that was still wrapped in several layers of sweater. She couldn't bring herself to unwrap it and touch the cool, crystalline ball. "I'm too scared to try."
"You should be," Jareth replied, unwrapping the first sphere and holding it up in his hands. It was stable, but only just. That she hadn't destroyed it, exploded it with an errant thought was a miracle. He shuddered to think how long it had taken him to created a stable crystal when he first manifested one, frustrated with the inability to find a focus stone after positively years of practice and study. He still had a small scar over his eyebrow from the explosion that had followed the creation of his first crystal. He'd gone to the wastelands for months, working to make this new ability bend to his will. Now, he understood it was more of a mutual non-aggression pact; he didn't upset the balance of the crystals, the crystals wouldn't turn him into a bloody mess, destroying a multitude of other things in the process. It wasn't a peaceful relationship Jareth had with his magic, but it worked.
The second crystal was heavier with magic. She had obviously grown stronger and used more magic after creating the first one.
"When did you create this first crystal?" he asked, careful not to make his voice accusatory.
"About two months into my stay with the Lady. I…" she blushed, then hurried on. "I missed you, so I picked up the crystal she had in her kitchen and started juggling it. I almost dropped it when the second one just appeared."
"In the kitchen?" he chuckled. "That bitch." Sarah stared at him. "Long story," he dismissed his comment. "Now, were you trying to duplicate it?"
"No. At least, I wasn't consciously trying to. I can only juggle one crystal, so I didn't really want another one to appear. I just…got a little lost while looking at it. It was so pretty, spinning in the light…" she shook her head, forcing herself to ignore the crystal song and focus on her story. "And then I had two spinning on my hands and I nearly dropped them both."
"Mm." Jareth felt the strength of the second one. As crystals went, it was a good start. Young, still, and new, but quite a promise. Let her succeed! he begged the land with his heart. Can't you see her potential? "Sarah these are both remarkable, not only that you duplicated them from one of my crystals, but that you have created stable crystals. That's not meant to scare you into never trying it again, by the way, but I know firsthand how persnickety the damned things can be." He lifted his own crystal into his hands and tossed it into the air, letting it disappear in a glittering shower of sparks. "Magic grows stronger as it is used. The more you use the magic you have, the stronger it will become, and the more stable. Some have only a tiny bit of magic in them, nothing more. No matter how much they practice, they will never do more than what you would call an apprentice or hedge-wizard in one of your books. Right now, your power is stronger than that, but your working knowledge is quite weak. A good, experience 'hedge-wizard' could defeat you easily, simply because he knows how to do everything he can do with magic." Sarah nodded. Made sense to her. "Conversely, you could defeat a master, or a…what is that word fantasy writers are so fond of? Inept?"
"Adept," she supplied, not even tempted to giggle.
"Ah, yes. You could defeat an adept simply because you have no idea what you cannot do. Not yet." He gave her a long look. "That filling charm, the first one. How did you keep it from draining you completely?"
"I…don't know. The magic," she paused. "This is going to sound silly, but the magic wanted to go into the charm. It really did. Not like filling up the fire charm in River Crossing. That was difficult." She grimaced. "Actually, it was a fight."
Jareth nodded, noticing the ribbon around her neck, he changed the subject. "What's this?" he asked, lifting the ribbon a bit.
"Oh, it was for helping Mastersmith Tolliver set up a display of his jewelry." When Jareth's eyebrows raised in shock, she explained the story in a much shorter form for him. "So he showed them all to me while I was recovering yesterday, and gave me this one for setting up the display."
Jareth stared at her and his shoulders began shaking. Then he burst out laughing.
"Only you, Sarah. Only you." He laughed for a long time, feeling the weight her revelations and the day lighten considerably. "I keep forgetting how much you don't know. The line that produced Tolliver happens to be one of the best when it comes to armsmagic and armourmagic. Has been for…centuries. I think they became known in King Legreth's time, some four thousand years ago. Even though their shop is small, did you notice the quality of work produced there? Well, that is because Destria happens to be one of the elite training grounds for adventurers and warriors. Not soldiers, mind, but warriors. There is a difference." He shook his head, still chuckling. "You managed to charm a pair of men that have given every would-be adventurer, hundreds of good knights, and no few runners pure misery. And you did it by being yourself-no, don't argue. I know you didn't do anything else. But this," he laughed again, bouncing the charm on its ribbon. "This is priceless. I must visit them tomorrow," he added. His next words sounded almost wistful. "Tolliver a silversmith. Pity."
Sarah frowned. "But he said he did inlay and fancy armour, not the best in the kingdom."
"Some of the best in the kingdom. There are others with different strengths, but when it came to endurance and affinity for the wearer, there was none better. His son is running things now, you say? I think I'll get my armour refitted," Jareth mused. "Haven't worn it in over three hundred of your years. Might have a few dents in it from that last little skirmish…" Sarah waited for Jareth to finish rambling on. It didn't take long. "Well, that's neither here nor there." He gave her a gentle kiss. "Goodnight, Sarah. If I were you, I'd study the necklace I was wearing very carefully over the next few days. It will explain much." He paused, then added. "Oh, and you passed the second wall here. Number 14." He gave her a wink and disappeared.
Sarah felt a twinge of disappointment, but let it go. He was obviously tired, something that he rarely ever showed, even privately in the broken moments. With a sigh and making a mental note to do exactly what he'd suggested starting tomorrow morning, she curled up under the covers and closed her eyes.
Her dreams were filled with spinning crystals, some singing of Jareth, others pulsing to her own heartbeat. What scared her and delighted her was the crystals seemed to resonate together, the song deeper and stronger in the duet.
Back at his castle, Jareth stared grimly at the message he had received from Grea earlier in the day. There was nothing for it. He had only one answer that he could give. He wrote out his reply in his own hand and took it to the waiting messenger, whose only magic was a particularly strong affinity for teleportation magic-of himself, nothing but his clothing and the one little pouch for sealed diplomatic messages. He didn't bother asking for details. Grean messengers never knew anything about anything, and their king kept it that way for a reason.
Then again, Jareth's messengers were much the same, for the same reasons. When the messenger left, so did his guard and secretary. He leaned back in his throne, tired and worn from the machinations of the past several weeks. Today's news and letters hadn't helped. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to will away the need for food and sleep.
Damn. Yet another tie, straining to be cut or strengthened; another direction for his attention.
"Hurry, Sarah, my love," he whispered to his now-empty throneroom. "Hurry."
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