Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Sarah walked into the armsmaster's salle the next morning, intending to ask when she should return to start her lessons. She was told by his assistant that he wasn't in, so she asked the woman to relay her question to the Master. On her way out, she saw another quote over the door. "Prowess without Reason or Compassion is the fertile ground of Tyranny," it read.
"Well, of course," Sarah said, staring at the quote. She was speaking softly to herself, but it helped her reason out the quote, just as it had the first one. "Any ability, especially at a particular level of competence, requires both the ability to reason when to use it and the sensitivity to circumstances surrounding the use of it. Compassion is the trickier of the two, since one could let something terrible happen because you were feeling, well, compassionate, but without both of these, a skill becomes like a club to wield over others. Trouble is, clubs are easy to use. Then again, so is a particularly strong skill." She thought for a minute, not noticing the absent armsmaster had snuck up behind her. "Makes sense in a place where the ability to fight and kill is taught."
"The ability to kill is inherent in all things," growled Redok behind her. Sarah jumped high and whirled, gasping for air. "I do not have to teach that. The ability to fight, the skill of the many weapons I know, those I teach. To kill or not is the individual's inclination." He waved to the quote above the door. Sarah managed to catch her breath while he spoke.
"And the third good reason to have this on the door. Without thinking or caring, your students could do more harm than others, and to innocent bystanders." Her voice even sounded normal, if a little breathy.
"Is there any innocence?" he questioned, raising one eyebrow cynically.
"There has to be," Sarah returned, "or what good is experience?"
The armsmaster gave a small smile. "And so this wall is passed." He gave her a small nod. "You will either be an excellent pupil or impossible. Either way, I promise you will learn, and quickly, for the road before you is still long, Runner." He looked outside at the morning light. "Go to Erpa at the Grey Gosil. Tell her you need student's clothing for me. I will see you…how do you speak of time?" he asked.
"I'm still used to hours and days, but I can use the sun-notches and star-rotations, if I need to."
"Good. The sixth notch on the floor-be back by then, ready to work." Redok dismissed her, turning back to his work.
Sarah stood there for a long moment.
"Now, Runner," he growled without looking back. Giving a little squeak, Sarah left for the Grey Gosil.
Upon returning to the salle, which had no name posted, nor any indication of what it was, she was dressed in a grey cotton shirt and trousers. Her breasts were bound in what reminded her of a corset that had been cut off above the bottom of her ribcage, but that also had two-inch wide straps that fit on her shoulders. The best part, she decided, was that, unlike a brassiere, she wasn't being cut in half by elastic that was always too tight and there weren't any preordained cup sizes, so she was neither falling out nor rattling around in a bubble of cloth. The jerkin had been comfortable, lacing snugly to keep everything where it should be, and, while the mini-corset wasn't uncomfortable, it wasn't her now-beloved jerkin.
Her trousers were loose, almost like the pants she'd seen students wear in the Karate Kid movie. Unlike the students, she got to wear a pair of light leather-soled shoes. They reminded her of her jazz shoes, but didn't have any difference in the thickness of the leather at the heel and were laced, ankle-high boots. It was a strange get-up, but one that she was oddly comfortable with. It certainly wasn't a medieval dress over jeans, like she'd worn so often in the park in New Hampshire.
Sarah waited patiently for Redok to return. When he did, he grunted once, then gestured for her to follow him.
"You will call me Armsmaster or Weaponsmaster. You have private lessons," he said. "You will not train with, practice with, demonstrate for, or otherwise show any skill to others in this town-not even Oliver and his family."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster," Sarah said when he paused, clearly waiting for her to say something. When she did not object, he continued.
"You will drink no wine or ale, nor will you bed down with whatever species or sex is your choice of partner." Sarah choked. "Is something wrong?"
"Species?" she repeated, eyes wide. When the man did not seem like he was joking or amused, she hurriedly nodded, "I won't drink ale or wine, Weaponsmaster, but the no sex…might be a bit of a problem."
"Explain yourself." Those black eyes narrowed ominously.
"Jareth." Sarah said, then added. "I'm his Runner, by oath and marking."
Nostrils flared. Eyes flashed. Silent fuming followed. In the end, Redok nodded. "Tell him I train you, and ask if he will…graciously agree to this stipulation."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster." Oh, she did not want to do that, and not just because she was feeling selfish.
"You will learn the magics of war while you are here, though," he paused and she felt a warmth surround her briefly, "you likely will not find them to your ease. Too bad. You will practice them here every afternoon. With me."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster."
"You will be awake at sunrise, and you will go to bed no later than the end of the first star rotation every night."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster."
"You will wear no weapon or armour without my permission, and you will wear only the one necklace you have on while we practice. No other jewelry," he glanced at her hands, "will be permitted."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster." She removed her rings and bracelet, holding them in one hand. She didn't have pockets.
"You will speak when spoken to, and you responses will be either 'Yes, Weaponsmaster' or 'No, Weaponsmaster'." If you have any questions, they will be addressed before or after the lesson, never during. I expect you to have questions."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster." Well, at least he liked this part of her conversation.
"You will retain a respectful attitude in the salle toward me, the building and heritage it reflects, and the weapons here, even the ones not fit for a garbage heap."
"Yes, Weaponsmaster."
"In practice ring, there is only one true King, and that is the Weaponsmaster. This is not to deny my oath to the King, nor to belittle yours. If you do not understand it now, you will later."
"Y-yes, Weaponsmaster." That one made Sarah stumble a bit. Great. No wine, no ale, no sex, lots of yessir-ing and nosir-ing, and now pretending Jareth didn't exist for a length of time each day. Piece of cake my ass, she thought. I'd rather be running from the cleaners!
"Very well, we begin with the defensive moves, the dodge and parry. For now, I will come at you or throw something at you, and you will dodge." He lifted a plain club. Without any other warning, he ran at her, swinging.
Sarah jumped out of the way with a little yelp, but she didn't jump clear. She got a part of the club on her shoulder.
That's gonna leave a mark, she thought as the man turned and came at her again. This time, she got away cleanly. It wasn't pretty or graceful, but it was a dodge.
Jareth appeared in the King's garden in Grea. The King of Grea was waiting for him there, as arranged. No other guards were in sight, nor were the Queen or courtiers.
"Ah, Jareth," the King of Grea bowed formally, sweeping his hands open in welcome. "Welcome to my humble home." The words belied the setting.
"Tanaka," Jareth returned. "Would this were a happier occasion."
"Of course," Tanaka replied. "Please, drink with me." The King motioned to the waiting tea service and waited for Jareth's nod.
Jareth felt his skin crawling. It wasn't Grea, really, or the king, who was actually an interesting man. It was the damned formality of everything. Well, that and the sheer, overwelming sense of water magic that surrounded him. Jareth couldn't work water magic hardly at all. It eluded him. Fire was one of his favourite toys, but water…the thought left him cold. Earth and air were second nature to him, but water was foreign as breathing underwater. Tanaka was practically dripping, he was so immersed in the watermagics.
Sitting down for tea, the men enjoyed the first cup in silence before opening discussion of the business at hand.
After her workout with Redok, and it was a workout, Sarah was aching and exhausted. She felt like she had in the mines, helping to lift rocks all day. The difference was that she was bruised from constant falls and missed dodges. Her arms and shoulders burned and tingled from the repeated attempts at parrying she had done. Finally, when she had managed three successful parries in a row with a simple staff, he had nodded stiffly. She had been stumbling over her own feet when the man had finally ended the practice. Immediately, he had demanded that she related what she had learned that day. Sarah's response had not been a scintillating study of observation.
"Weaponsmaster," she'd panted, "I learned that getting hit hurts, and so does falling on the floor, running into walls and benches, and so does learning to use a staff in defense."
The weaponsmaster had frowned. "Stretch out. Come back at the same time tomorrow. I expect you to reflect upon your lesson here today and contribute some sort of actual insight by then." He had swirled out of the room, leaving her to sink to the floor and begin the most painful stretching she had ever done.
In her room, Sarah stared at her regular clothing. She was required to wear this stuff from now on, taking her greys to change at the salle in a back room. She almost whimpered at the thought of the leather jerkin being tied properly over her bruised ribs, but ultimately decided the wrath of the weaponsmaster would be much worse if she disobeyed. Stripping slowly, Sarah pulled on her regular shirt and breeches, complete with boots, and brushed her hair. Gathering up the towel that came with the room, she picked up the soap the Lady had given her, and headed to the bathhouse.
***
"Then we must settle this in open court," Jareth sighed. The politics of Grea had already swept this matter out of the realm of quiet resolution. "I had hoped to avoid such a thing."
"I fear it is the only way. There is no doubt about the accusations. The boy, addled as he is, committed this crime." Tanaka seemed to regret this outcome. "Jareth, long have we known one another."
Jareth gave a small smile. "I'll never forget our meeting. You were what? Perhaps 200?"
"A little less," Tanaka corrected. "You were a king's son, yet held no rank other than knight-and you were easily twice my age." Tanaka paused, then continued. "I would bring some of the strength of your land to mine, Jareth, but change comes slowly here, if at all."
"As long as we have been in contact, Tanaka, you've never mentioned this. Even when we were questing together, you were always a pompous little prick." Voice light, Jareth took them down the garden path of memory.
"And you an improper, wild, unmannered creature," Tanaka returned. Despite their smiles, there was a sense of regret that went with the nostalgia. Tanaka changed the tone yet again. "Yet, you taught me more of honour and justice in our short time together than ever I learned in my father's court." He gave the slightly older man a long look. "Do you know I was banished for those two hundred years for defying my father's edict to marry some Sylanthian princess?"
"You never did say," Jareth replied "and those who apply for knighthood are not questioned about their reasons."
"I thought it my due as a prince of Grea, a knighthood in the land I would deign to grace with my presence." Tanaka snorted. "Imagine my surprise to learn I would have to run the Knight's Test."
"I don't have to," Jareth grinned. "You were very good at royal temper-tantrums. I picked up no few pointers from you then."
Tanaka rolled his eyes and muttered something about wags and their supposed wit. "Seriously, I learned more of myself in those 'walls' of yours than I had dreamed could be shown to me. Is Mab still as…" Words failed him.
"Yes, and I do adore the bitch," Jareth grinned, thinking of Mab and her ways. "I presume she took a more, ahem, wild track for your desires?"
Tanaka did not reply directly, but the tilt of his head gave Jareth the answer. "I learned, Jareth, that, like the tides, desires simply are. I needed to understand that." He stood and walked to the sunset side of his garden. "My people need to learn this, too. It is not dishonourable to desire a life other than the one given to you with your birth. Yet, I cannot require my people run your labyrinth to learn this, for I would slowly lose them all to you."
"Eventually, though it would probably be your sons who reaped the ultimate benefit." Jareth paused. This situation was giving him a headache. Or maybe it was the water. "I would rather build a true alliance between our lands than absorb Grea into my realm. No, there must be some other path."
"Alliance? Between lands, Kings, barely removed form enemies? Can this be done, do you think?" Tanaka asked, facing Jareth again.
"I cannot speak for you, Tanaka, but I would rather see us friends than enemies. Even in your father's reign, I never considered this land enemy to my people." Jareth spoke calmly, but honestly. There was no need to prevaricate in such a time or place. "'Tis my word, Knight to Knight," he added, calling up the old friendship between them.
"Nor mine enemy to thine, Sir Knight," Tanaka replied. He sighed heavily. "And yet, here we are with this between us."
"And no magic was detected on either of the two?" Jareth asked, still searching for why and how this had happened. That it had was indisputable.
"The boy was a magic user, and strong enough that his own signature still masks the presence of other magic. Unless," Tanaka gave Jareth an inquiring look, "as your subject, you can sense what belongs to him better than my mages."
Shaking his head, Jareth knew this was impossible. "Even if I could, it wouldn't be here." He tried to keep the distaste out of his voice.
Tanaka chuckled. He knew Jareth and his opinion of watermagic well, for he held the same thoughts about firemagic that Jareth so loved. "Ah, yes. But it is this great difference between us that made us such a formidable pair." At Jareth's nod, Tanaka continued. "Should you find outside magics on the boy once he is returned home to you, then send the signature to Us and action will be taken. My word upon it."
"Your word isn't necessary, Tanaka." Jareth stood. Tanaka inclined his head at the words denoting trust between them. "Since court is to be held today, and since this particular trial is last on your docket, let's finish this." He walked with Tanaka to the door of the palace. "Old friend," he said, placing one hand on the slightly shorter king's shoulder, "do as you must, and so shall I."
"I would expect no less of either of us, old friend," Tanaka replied softly.
Each knew, no matter the outcome, this day would be unpleasant for the other.
Sarah crawled into bed and closed her eyes. It was barely after sundown, and she was so tired and sore she didn't want to think about anything, much less that she would be returning to the salle today to be pummelled into learning something that was supposed to have some sort of meaning, but didn't. Unless it was "only fight when you're not tired or hurting." Somehow, she doubted that was the deep insight she was supposed to apply. Unable to think any more, she fell asleep.
"And this boy, this Labyrinthian, did assault the daughter of this good fishmonger. He did violate her, and she did not encourage him or speak to him in a way that would cause him to do so!" The prosecuting courtier, the Fisher's Lord who controlled all matters dealing with the fishermen and their families, thundered out accusations and facts in no discernable pattern. Finally, he finished his speech. "We demand the boy be castrated, whipped, and executed for his vile crime."
Said vile crime was the rape of the fishmonger's daughter, a girl perhaps fifteen years of age. There were several problems with the case, the first and foremost being that the boy, a magicworker of some talent, had attempted a spell too powerful for him and had, for three days prior to this assault, been catatonic. He had no memory of the assault, or of anything past the blinding pain of the spell's failure. He had returned to this catatonic state almost immediately after the rape, which is why he had been so easily caught and arrested. Two days later, the day of the trial, the healers of Grea were still confused at how the boy had managed to do anything, their assessment being that he was catatonic in response to magical shock and would remain so stricken until he healed, which would take at least another week.
"Who does speak for the accused?" Tanaka's chamberlain asked in a bored tone. There was nothing astounding to him about this case, and so he wasn't truly interested in anything but keeping the formality and pace of the court moving properly. Tanaka rarely spoke in court, his chamberlain handling all of the formalities. Tanaka had grown to hate formalities during his six hundred years on the Pearl Throne.
The doors to the court flew open and Jareth's voice rang through the crowded hall. "I do."
Tanaka's lips almost twitched, but he managed to keep his face serene. He did not even blink out of his established, serene rhythm. The chamberlain and most of the court stared at this wild-looking man with the dark, leather-and-metal coat studded with precious gems. Eyes grew wider and almost round with the look at his breeches, which were tight and revealed much more than the proper robes of the courtiers. His black, dusty boots drew gasps of horror, for he walked upon the ancient Petitioner's Way, a heavy silk runner that was constantly being cleaned and repaired by the Master Weavers. But it was his hair, that wild mane of long strands radiating from his skull in a gravity-defying sunburst of blonde, that made several women faint delicately into the arms of their lords and husbands. No Grean would ever, ever, ever have hair so untamed-even after a night of carefully proper passion.
"As my subject has no voice, I do speak for him." Jareth stood beside the boy, who was on the floor, rocking back and forth, arms across his chest. The father, a rather wealthy merchant who had traded with Grea for several years without incident, knelt to his king with tears of gratitude in his eyes.. This one mystifying crime was threatening to destroy his reputation forever. His king had heard of the need for true justice and had come, as the Kings of the Labyrinthine Realm had promised since the beginning of time.
"Rise, Istran of Felton," Jareth murmured to him. "Rise and face your son's accusers."
Istran, the merchant, did so, head high. Now he had someone on his side. No Grean defenders would take the case, fearful of incurring the wrath of the Fisher Lord. Not even a woman would defend this boy, not even from the Mages' Consortium. The Queen of Grea had very severe views on defending those accused of such crimes, and she ruled the women of the isle, as her lord and king required of her.
"King Jareth," Tanaka murmured. "You honour Us with your presence. Do you take such personal interest in all of your errant subjects?" The words were required, serene. Jareth knew they were not heartfelt, but it didn't help his temper. With no little effort had he replayed the events of the rape, and there was no doubt the boy was guilty. After hearing from the merchant's employees and the healers who had attended both the girl and the boy, he had also learned of the oddities of the case-the boy shouldn't have been able to move, much less rape anyone.
"When my subjects display nearly miraculous abilities and are then accused of a crime, it is my very personal interest. Unlike many countries, I do not deny my subjects justice from my own hand." It was a slap in the face for Grea, which kept a formal court system. The system rarely held any case up to the king's eye, but this one had involved possible diplomatic difficulties, and so the king was required to hear it.
"We shall hear all, King Jareth, and, hearing all, We shall judge." This last was a formal declaration, but not in the language of the Grean court. Tanaka had deviated from the script. He was promising the justice found in the Court of Knights in the Labyrinthine Realm.
Jareth flashed Tanka a feral grin and began to speak.
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shattered