The Enchantment of Prince Jareth

In this fantasy adventure, Prince Jareth sees a mystical woman outside the city wall and feels powerfully drawn to her. When the citizens of the kingdom start being slaughtered by an unknown enemy, Jareth must decide whether to trust his instincts and brave the mountains or obey his timid family.

***

Stars had begun to emerge in the twilight sky when Prince Jareth ascended the watchtower overlooking the wildlands beyond the northern wall. His kingdom stood small and quaint amidst alpine meadows and glacial streams, high in the Crystal Mountains.

Here she comes, thought the prince, his pulse quickening as the pale blue lady came gliding down from the mountain, prancing like a doe across the snow and flowers. Captivated, he kept his eyes trained on the lady, her every movement the very apex of grace.

There came a soft rustling behind Jareth, and he turned to see Princess Janah strolling forward to join him. “Has she noticed you yet?” she asked, taking her place beside her brother.

“I don’t think so,” he said wistfully.

“Good. And I do hope you haven’t tried calling out to her.”

He scoffed and let his gaze drift back to the mystical lady. “And say what, exactly? ‘Hello, fair mysterious creature. May I have a kiss?’”

“You’re right,” said Janah. “Better to stand here gawking at her every night.”

“Yes. Better to long from afar than never see her again.”

“Suit yourself, but people are asking questions—as I said they would. When has a prince ever manned the watchtower? Much less every night! I spoke with Mother tonight, and the state she’s in . . .” The princess could only shake her head.

“What a shame to see royal necks risked alongside the necks of our commoners.”

“Take up your grand ideals with our parents,” she said. “But those commoners you speak of are beginning to whisper. I’ve kept them at bay for as long as I can. Mother won’t stand by any longer. She’ll have Father pressing you soon. Tomorrow, I assume. You never sleep anymore, and you’re as pallid as a ghost, so who can blame her? She’s worried. Heavens, I’m worried, and I don’t even like you!”

“I’ll think of something,” he said, disregarding her clumsy attempt at lightening the mood.

Janah shrugged. “Then I suppose my work here is done.” She turned and descended the tower, leaving her brother where he stood. He would not come down until sunrise—that is, until his lady returned to wherever she came from.

Once, soon before dusk, the lady seemed to smile at him—a bright, sweet, fleeting smile, like the twinkling of a star—and the sight of it sent great beams of happiness through his spirit, though not without misery, for it only made him long more than ever to meet her.

Could I do it? he wondered. Could I approach her? No, I can’t. What if I scare her away and never see her again? No, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

Just what he’d said to himself every night for weeks.

#

The next morning saw Prince Jareth sitting in the great hall of the castle, poking miserably at his breakfast of fruit, bread, and cheese while King Jezra pried into his son’s recent behavior.

“You’re sure nothing is troubling you, son?” said the king, his brow tight with concern.

With so little sleep, Jareth’s patience could restrain no more than the slightest nuisance before giving way. As he spoke, his bloodshot eyes blazed out of his sickly pale face: “I man the tower for a few days, and you all lose your minds! Is it so hard for you to imagine that I would grow into a king who leads from the front? Have you heard nothing of the great warrior kings in the east, how they lead their men into battle rather than hiding behind their men the way you do?”

The king’s face darkened. “My life is dedicated to your happiness, boy, but do not think I will tolerate such brashness.”

Queen Elora broke in: “You’re clearly exhausted, darling. What’s going on? Really?”

“I see the issue,” said House Wizard Nyxius, at which Jareth groaned aloud and thought, Keep your venomous words to yourself, snake. “With respect, my prince,” began the wizard, smiling, “I believe you may be enchanted.”

“Enchanted!” cried the queen.

“I think so,” said Nyxius solemnly.

“What do we do?” said the king, shifting uneasily in his chair.

Nyxius appeared unconcerned. “Take courage, friends. It’s a simple matter of identifying the source—the fountainhead, if you will. Once found, enchantments come out like weeds, roots and all. In these mountains, it is no surprise to stumble upon the odd enchantment. We need not worry . . . for now.” He paused and glanced toward the door, which had just opened. “My apologies, would you excuse me for a moment?” He rose and brushed off his robes, then strode to the far corner of the hall to speak in hushed tones with the courier who had just arrived.

Janah sat across from her brother and looked ready to burst. She fixed an intense look on him as though to say, “Just tell them the truth!” Jareth shook his head vehemently.

“See!” cried the queen, wagging her finger at them. “You two are hiding something. Come out with it, already!”

“Not true,” began Jareth. “We were—"

“There’s a woman!” blurted Janah, darting a guilty look at her brother before continuing: “Every night, she ventures down from the mountain, and she truly is enchanting. Jareth is enamored with her, and that’s why he keeps manning the watchtower. It’s to see her.”

“Curse you,” growled Jareth. He thrust the chair out of his way and stormed from the hall, the massive wooden door slamming with a thunderous crack behind him.

“A woman,” said the king with a hearty laugh, returning to his meal. “I should have known.”

Elora was less amused. “But a woman out beyond the wall? One who appears only at night? What kind of woman does that? No, I don’t like this. There’s something dark in it.”

“There is more darkness in these mountains than even the wise have dared to imagine,” said Nyxius, returning to his chair. “What’s this I hear about a woman?”

Janah, distracted by guilt, soon excused herself from the table to go and find her brother.

#

“I trusted you,” growled Jareth when Janah found him. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re no better than that slimy spellcaster.”

“I know you’re angry, but . . .” She hesitated. “You’re not well, Jareth! When he said you were enchanted, it worried me. Slimy or not, that spellcaster knows magic. You don’t. What if the lady is treacherous? What if she’s luring you into a snare?”

“Yes, what if?” said Jareth. “What if she traps me? What if she yanks the head off my shoulders? What if, what if? How does any of that affect you, and how is it any of your concern?”

“Jareth,” said Janah quietly, “I will forgive your cruel words under the belief that they are the mere mad mutterings of a muddled mind. I will choose to believe that you know how much I love you and how much it would devastate me to lose you.”

The prince sighed with resignation. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Perhaps I am enchanted.”

“So, what will you do?”

Wouldn’t you like to know, so you can go tell everyone. “What is there for me to do?” he said, allowing his shoulders to slump. “All that’s left is to forget her and move on.”

The princess narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps. And I can safely assume that you’d never dare to sneak out and meet your sweet siren when no one’s looking? As future king, you know to act for the good of your subjects? You know that provoking the specters beyond our walls with no notion of what catastrophes they might cause, what mayhem they might wreak . . . well, it would be utter foolishness.”

“Yes. Utter foolishness.”

“Yes.” She glowered at her impetuous brother for a moment, then gave a nod. “Very well, then. I leave you in peace.”

“Farewell, sister—and thank you. You always look out for me.”

She cloaked her irritation behind a smile, then strode from his room. He thinks he can deceive me, she thought. You really are enchanted, aren’t you, brother? You’ll run straight to the forest as soon as you can, like a hare to a snare. No matter. I will indeed look out for you, whether you like it or not. Lucky for you, little hare, there is a fox who cares for you.

#

The sun hung low over the horizon when Prince Jareth peeked out of the castle and looked both ways before pulling a hood over his head and slinking into the street. A few townsfolk passed by, but none realized their proximity to the royal son himself. He soon reached his destination and rapped on the door.

The door opened, and a dark-haired woman with a kind face stepped into the doorway. “Would you look at that!” cried Aunt Mabel, smiling. “The very prince deigns to visit his batty aunt. I’d begun to think you forgot about me.”

Jareth laughed. “Dear aunt, I shall forget my own name before I forget you!”

“Come in, then. I suspect you have something you’d like to discuss, and there is no discussion that is not improved with tea.”

The pair were soon seated at a small wooden table.

“So?” she said. “What compels your descent from the grand castle?”

“Decisions,” he said pensively, swirling the steaming liquid in his mug.

“Oh?”

“What I’m saying . . . what I mean is . . . well, there’s this lady. And she’s . . . oh, Mabel, she’s beyond description!” He began to speak faster: “She ventures down from the mountain each night to mingle with the forests and meadows. She dances with the flowers and speaks with the trees. She seems, I don’t know, one with the wilderness.

“I shouldn’t have any decision to make here, mind you. I should have been free to enjoy my lady from afar, but your niece told our parents about her last night, and now I worry they’ll do something rash.”

“Rash?”

“They might view her as a threat, might try and hurt her. She’s wild and magical and unfamiliar.” Describing the mystical lady, his eyes glittered blissfully, but then he grew serious: “You know how your sister is. With her, unfamiliar and deadly are one and the same. Ghosts and ghouls ‘round every bend. And Father will do whatever she tells him. She’s as persuasive as you are, just like your niece. You’re all cut from the same cloth.”

“Good breeding,” said Mabel with a chuckle. Then she added, “But why do you speak of decisions? I gleaned no decision from what you said.”

“I don’t want them to hurt her!” he cried, surprising himself. Heavens, I do need to sleep.

Mabel nodded slowly, her face tight with concentration, apparently unfazed by the outburst. “So, you will try and stop them?” she finally said.

“I want to go speak with her, to warn her. At least then I won’t feel as though it’s my fault if something terrible happens. She’s so lovely . . .”

“Then why not do it?”

“I don’t know. What if she is dangerous? What if, by warning her, I provoke her into attacking us? Or perhaps she’s a siren. The wizard says I’m enchanted.”

“Do you trust him?”

The prince gave a bitter laugh. “Absolutely. I trust him to look out exclusively for his own interests.”

“Then we must drink his thoughts through that filter. Let me ask you this. You’ve observed this lady firsthand. Does she feel dangerous to you?”

He thought for a moment. “Actually, she does. But also good. Wild and powerful, but good . . . better than any of us.”

“How can she be dangerous and good?”

“You know, like the mountains or the sea, or a great king. Sturdy. Wild. Majestic. Strong enough to protect; gentle enough to comfort. Something you can trust but should respect.”

Mabel smiled her warm smile. “I think you’ll be that king someday, Jareth. Your father is strong and steady, if perhaps indecisive. Your mother is wise but fearful. They adopted such traits to survive. You’d have done the same had you lived their lives and faced their challenges. Even so, you are not them. You are your own. It is within you to embrace the strengths they’ve passed down to you, and it is within your power to discard their weaknesses. Times like these—risky, uncertain times—are when you decide how you will navigate this world, decide what sort of king you’ll be. Understand, Jareth, there are no choices in isolation, only steps along a path.”

“What would you do?”

She laughed. “I won’t give you my choice. I offer only the tools to unearth your own. That is, unless you wish to embrace your father’s indecision. In that case, my first suggestion would be to forget this mystical lady altogether and go find a nice imperious girl to clasp some chains on you.”

Clever, that—leveraging my disdain for the old man’s spinelessness. Clever, but valid. And yet she now herds me toward the decision she would make anyway, does she not? Just as her sister does to my father; dragging him around by his chains while he grins like an ogre. I truly am my father’s son.

The fact remains, I agree with her.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll meet her. Tonight.”

#

House Wizard Nyxius sat in his chamber, surrounded by books and potions, hastily scribbling this letter by the flickering light of a lamp:

Friends,

Prince Jareth has discovered what I believe, from my research, to be a nymph. Should my guess prove accurate, this kingdom will, far sooner than predicted, be ripe for the plucking. We need only to provoke the nymph to see her become a most frightful enemy. Only I possess the knowledge and power to subdue her, and only once she has thinned the ranks of the kingdom will I do so. This done, you will be well-positioned to invade and displace the king and his loyalists.

 I trust that you will not forget who made this possible for you. Allow me the courtesy of slaying the king myself. I would also appreciate some private hours with his daughter before her execution. She’s a charming little rose, thorns and all, and freshly bloomed. It would be a shame to waste that.

At any rate, I advise you to keep your troops at the ready and await my instructions. What is coming will arrive quickly.

Your humble servant,

Nyxius, Royal House Wizard

He finished just as Princess Janah strolled into his chambers unannounced. Her eyes fell to the letter as she entered, then flitted up to his face. “More correspondence with the guild, I take it?”

“Indeed,” he said, quickly folding it.

“You write them a great deal nowadays. Cause for concern?”

“No, no—nothing so sinister.” He smiled disarmingly. “What brings you to me at this hour?”

“My brother. I’m quite sure he will visit the forest tonight and talk to that creature. Go keep an eye on him.”

 “Should, heaven forbid, the worst occur, I will guard him with my very life.” He brought both hands to his heart. “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” she said coldly. She glanced once more at the letter, then turned on her heels and left the room.

Nyxius gave a sharp exhale as the nervous tension left him. Then he smirked. How tranquilly the hunted wanders within reach of the hunter.

#

Aunt Mabel rose from her seat and started toward the door. “If you’re going beyond the wall tonight, you shouldn’t go alone. The wolves are out, and the dark legends that creep down from the mountain . . .” She shuddered.

Reaching the door, she pushed it open and stuck one arm and her head outside as though to check the weather.

“It is dangerous,” said Jareth, “which is precisely why you’re not going. I train every day with our finest soldiers. I can protect myself. You’re just a gardener.”

“Just a gardener!” cried a rough, gravelly voice. The prince gave a start and looked down to see a very short person with dirt-brown skin, dirt-smeared clothes, and a thick dirty beard come hobbling in past Mabel. The creature’s conical pointed hat appeared to be comprised entirely of moss and grass, and it came to a point only as high as Mabel’s waist. Upon entering, the creature looked up at Jareth and cried, “That was rude! Take it back!”

“This is Logos,” said Mable, stooping to pat the creature’s shoulder. “Garden gnome. I acquired them in Fir Springs a few months back to help me with my chores.”

“Them?”

Two more gnomes walked in.  

“This is Ethos,” said Aunt Mabel, indicating the second gnome, who had a rather devious sparkle in his eyes. “And this is Pathos.” The third simply stood there, cold and expressionless, as she continued: “Give ‘em some water and a couple of potatoes, and they’ll make exceptional companions. Tireless and quite practical.”

“Aunt Mabel! There’s no way I’m taking your—”

“I insist! You will be much safer with them. Although, do keep an eye on Ethos. He will steal the food off your plate, the ring off your hand, and the nose off your face if he can get away with it. I once caught him trying to saw the hooves off a horse, for heaven’s sake. At any rate, when you catch him stealing, just tell him to give it back, and he will. If you don’t catch him, don’t expect to see it ever again, whatever it may be. You understand?”

“I—”

“I know you do. Go on, then. The moon is rising. You might as well get started. Now, Logos? Pathos? Ethos? This is your prince. Do whatever he tells you, and don’t give him any trouble unless it’s for his own good.”

“Where is he taking us, and why?” said Pathos, crossing his arms.

“Beyond the city gate,” she replied, then lowered her voice like one telling a profound secret: “To meet a lady.”

Ethos narrowed his eyes. “We’ll be paid, right?”

“Mercenary!” cried Aunt Mable. “Of course you’ll be paid. I just told you, he’s a prince. He could pay you so much that you never want to steal again.”

Ethos wrung his hands eagerly. “There is no price so high. When do we start?”

“Pure foolishness,” muttered Pathos. “Yes, let’s get it over with.”

Logos took a series of rapid breaths, then burst into tears.

#

The moon cast its light like a blanket of silver over the kingdom as Prince Jareth crept out beyond the city gate, followed closely by Logos, Pathos, and Ethos. The stillness of the night was broken only by the occasional breeze rippling across the landscape and the occasional gasp from Logos, who evidently worried that every sway of the grass might kill him. Pathos wondered aloud why the prince bothered bringing such a squirrel-hearted bucket of tears, and Ethos kept his eyes trained carefully on the ground in search of any valuables that might have been dropped by travelers.

The path curved left and made a gentle descent alongside a meadow of grass and violet flowers. At the far end of the meadow stood the very grove of red cedars where the mystical lady had stood only one night ago. Fear and excitement fluttered the prince’s heart as he broke from the path and stepped into the meadow.

Steel your nerves, prince, he thought. Heavens, I’ve felt less fear in combat—and why wouldn’t I? She has the power to break not merely my body but my spirit; and what good is my body if only as a prison for a broken spirit? Far better to have my spirit flourish in a broken body. Better yet to remain whole. Why am I doing this?

“Welcome, friends.”

The prince froze. The voice had chimed like a harp across the meadow, yet he found himself wondering if he really had heard something. Her voice was too wonderful, and he struggled to perceive it.

“That was beautiful,” said Logos in a tremulous whisper, tears welling in his eyes.

“Thank you!” said the voice, full of laughter. And then the prince saw her. She stood across the meadow, among the flowers, her pale blue dress sparkling like the frost at their feet. She looked at home among the flowers, as if she were their mother; and when she strode forward, the prince could only stand entranced—unable to move, unable to speak.

Watching her, he felt this sense that he and the very earth beneath his feet were as thin and fleeting as his breath in that cold night air. He clung to a frail raft hurtling across a sea of chaos. But the lady—she seemed to come from someplace else, someplace solid. Permanent. She stood on the raft by choice and simply allowed it to carry her. Her presence alone seemed to mock the vanities that had seemed so important before.

Soon, she stood within arm’s reach, and everything in him longed to reach out, if only to feel the faintest brush of her hand, though he would never dare. If they touched, it would be her doing.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her eyes glittering merrily.

“I . . .” He swallowed hard and steadied himself. “I’m here to see you.”

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I’m your friend.”

“My friend?”

“Of course! Are you my friend?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Why?” she said, childlike in her sincerity.

He hesitated. “They say you’ve . . . enchanted me.”

She gave him a playful frown. “May friends not enchant one another?”

It was a question he could not answer.

“My love?” she said. “Must I no longer enchant you?”

Her gravity was more than he could bear. He took a step toward her and grew as earnest as a groom delivering his marriage vows. “I am your friend,” he said, “and you may captivate, beguile, and enchant me at your pleasure. Use not a modicum of restraint, and you may do so for as long as I live. I am your friend, now and always.”

“For as long as you live!” she cried as though in celebration, smiling her starry smile. Then she reached out, cupped his face in her hands, and pressed her lips softly against his cheek. When she let go, he dropped involuntarily to his knees before falling back into a seated position amidst the flowers, laughing. The sound of his own laughing struck him as strangely thin, for how could he express a thousand years’ worth of laughter?

He was still laughing when there came a sudden, mighty roar, like being engulfed by an ocean wave, and a terrible pressure seemed to cave in on him from every direction. He pulled his hands to his ears and doubled over, wincing, his eyes squeezed as tightly shut as he could manage. The sound of the gnomes crying out beside him seemed to come from miles away, or from a dream.

The pressure subsided, and the prince opened his eyes to see that a frightful change had come over the lady. Icy rage, not stars, now shone from her eyes, and that terrible gaze was fixed on him. Her mouth hung open in a grimace of something like agony, and she wailed, “You are not my friend!”

“My lady!” he cried, but it was too late. She whirled and fled up the mountain with uncanny speed, and he felt a shift in the landscape every bit as momentous as the one he had seen in her. No longer glittering with playful, mysterious magic, the magic now felt dark and deadly. The prince saw nothing new with his eyes, but it was plain to see.

What happened? he wondered.

#

Nyxius had stood by and watched as the prince and, strangely enough, three gnomes meandered out beyond the city wall to meet the nymph. He watched as the nymph emerged from the forest, watched as the prince spoke with her, and watched as she kissed him—a curious development given that the wizard had never, in all his studies, heard of a nymph kissing a man.

A surge of jealousy welled up in Nyxius, and he knew this feeling would be exceptional fuel for one of his deadliest spells. And when the prince perishes, what of it? I can say I was only trying to protect him from the nymph. Better still, I can say it was the nymph herself who did it.

In fact, the spell killed no one, and Nyxius felt sure the nymph had cast a ward to nullify its potency. When the spell settled, the prince remained seated in the meadow, and the nymph and gnomes were nowhere to be seen. Nyxius scanned the landscape anxiously in search of the nymph, but then something like a boulder smashed into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground and knocking the staff from his hand.

“You tried to kill us!” shrieked the gnome that had barreled into him and now sat on his chest, beating his face with its stout little fists.

A second gnome arrived and began scurrying around, snatching items out of the wizard’s satchel. The third leaned against a nearby tree with its arms crossed, muttering, “Serves you right for casting that reckless spell.”

In a mad scramble, Nyxius thrust the first gnome off his chest, then rose and shook off the second gnome that was now dangling from his hand like a fish, trying to pull the rings off his fingers. He retrieved his staff, but as his fingers closed around it, he turned just in time to see the hilt of Prince Jareth’s sword speeding toward his head. The blow knocked him unconscious.

#

Prince Jareth stood over the unconscious wizard, contemplating whether to dismember him then and there, but he thought better of it. It would be a just death, certainly—but as future king, he had the integrity of the law to consider. He sheathed his sword, took up the wizard’s staff and snapped it across his knee, then flung the pieces into the meadow.

“You should have known this wouldn’t go well,” said Pathos. “We had better return before something worse happens.”

The prince glowered down at the snobbish little creature and said, “Take the wizard to the jailer, and tell him I sent you. Then go home.”

Logos, still red with rage, kicked the wizard in the ribs and said, “Can we drag him face-down across the stones?”

“And I’ll pillage his chambers,” said Ethos.

Jareth waved his hand dismissively. “You have your assignment. I don’t care how you go about it.”

He kept watch as the gnomes dragged Nyxius back into the city by the ankles. Safely within, he cast a final mournful glance across the landscape, then made for his chambers where he would spend the remaining night mourning, longing for his lady. She had carried him to the pinnacle of joy, and to see her torn away plunged him into an equally deep valley of grief. Sick with sorrow, sleep eluded him for yet another night.

#

Queen Elora’s rapid footfalls echoed down the hallway as she sped toward Jareth’s chambers in a whirlwind of fury. She burst into his room and found her boy sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees and face buried in his arms, sobbing. The rare sight threatened to see her anger replaced with pity, but she quenched her pity as well as she could. Very quietly, she said, “Have you any idea what you’ve done?”

The prince raised his bleary eyes and wiped his nose. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it.”

His snide remark helped refresh her fury. “Oh, you need me to tell you? Where to begin, where to begin . . .” She tapped her foot and feigned thoughtfulness. “Oh, yes! Perhaps we begin with you beating our royal house wizard so badly that his eye is swollen shut, and then discarding him in prison.”

She glared at him in silence, awaiting an answer, so he gave a shrug and replied, “I didn’t do that.”

“Well, he says you did!”

“How would he know? He was unconscious.”

“So, you did do it!”

“That’s not what I said.”

Her eyes widened so much that Jareth wondered how they didn’t fall out. “When your father—” she began before she was cut off by her son’s scornful laugh at the mention of his spineless father. She stood silently in the doorway for a moment, red-faced and trembling, then said, “We will deal with you. Be sure of that.” She then sauntered out of his room with all the gentle quietude of suppressed anger.

#

Later that morning, Prince Jareth found himself seated in the throne room, facing a tribunal of sorts, comprised of King Jezra, Queen Elora, Princess Janah, and House Wizard Nyxius. The wizard’s dark but subtle glare forbode murder, but the prince was glad to see how many wounds the gnomes had inflicted. I’ll need to thank them for that, he thought, grinning.

Janah frowned at her audacious brother and mouthed, “Stop smiling!”

He rolled his eyes and fell back in his chair, prepared to ride out the storm.

“So?” began the king. “What happened? I’m giving you the courtesy of being the first to explain. Seize this advantage while it remains within reach.”

Jareth defiantly met his father’s gaze. “Alright, I’ll tell you. Your wizard very nearly killed me, so I knocked the daylights out of him and tossed him in jail. Snakes prefer to hide in dark holes, so I thought he would be grateful.”

“Nearly killed you!” bellowed Jezra, wheeling on Nyxius. “Explain this! Now!”

“My king!” whimpered Nyxius, though Jareth plainly saw the wizard’s craftiness beneath his groveling façade. “I had hoped to avoid any strife within this honorable family; however, I must give voice to what has been so conveniently omitted. The fact is, Princess Janah asked me to monitor her brother’s movements and protect him. She suspected that he would sneak outside the gate in search of his enchantress.” Jareth shot a fierce glare at his sister as Nyxius continued: “Her suspicions proved legitimate, for I observed the prince sneaking into the northern meadow, and I observed him speaking with the very enchantress herself. He claims I nearly killed him, but in fact, I attacked her, not him—and I attacked her only to protect him. She grabbed him and threw him to the ground, and only then did I attack, only once the danger to your son became more than I could bear. At any rate, look at him! He bears not so much as a single scratch. I, on the other hand, am beaten black and blue. Any claim that I tried to kill him is, frankly, absurd. You know my powers. If I wanted him dead, he would be.”

Yes, snake, I hear your veiled threat, thought the prince with a sneer. I will grant that I failed to think this through. Of course you would twist the account to suit your schemes. I should have known this was coming and spilled your guts when I had the chance. Then again, how should I have known my meddling sister would turn to you of all people? I don’t plot and scheme the way you all do.

They won’t believe the truth, now. I’ve lost my credibility. A move well made, spellcaster, but the game is not finished.

“Well?” said Elora.

“As always,” said Jareth, “the wizard speaks just enough truth to disguise his lies. He buries his venom in something palatable, knowing that if you tasted the venom, you would spew it from your mouth and cut off its source. Instead, you happily swallow it and won’t notice until it’s too late.”

“Very well, my sagely son. You mean to say that you did not sneak out beyond the wall?”

Jareth’s bitter silence was answer enough.

“And you did not come face-to-face with your enchantress?”

More silence.

“And she did not attack you and knock you to the ground?”

“No!” he snapped. “She kissed me, and I fell. I was laughing, for heaven’s sake. I wasn’t in danger.”

“Kissed you?” said the king, chuckling. “A mysterious woman comes frolicking down from the mountain and . . . kisses you?”

Elora turned sharply on her husband. “There’s nothing funny about this! What do you think the guild will say when they learn that we beat one of their wizards half to death?”

“That’s the least of your worries,” said Jareth. “Now that said wizard attacked the lady, she’s against us, and the mountain with her. We’re all in danger.”

“Wonderful!” cried Elora, throwing up her hands. “You just had to sneak out there. You never do stop to consider what could go wrong.”

“Ah, the virtues of the fearful. Have patience with me, sagely master. My cowardice has not yet reached the heights that yours has.”

Jezra reached out and touched his wife’s hand. “Peace, my darling.” He turned to Jareth. “Son, why do you think this woman is against us?”

“Once Nyxius attacked her, I could just . . . feel it. She’s powerful, and now she’s angry.”

Nodding grimly, the king turned and addressed the soldier at the door. “Tell the watchmen to increase patrol in the coming days.”

Elora scoffed at her son. “Oh, you can feel it, can you? You mean the way you could feel that it was a good idea to go out there and provoke her in the first place?”

Jareth mockingly scoffed back. “I didn’t provoke her. The wizard did.”

“Which he would never have done if you’d possessed the good sense not to go out there!”

“He also wouldn’t have done it if Janah had kept her mouth shut, not that I would expect anything different from your daughter.”

“I was trying to protect you!” cried Janah, tears welling in her eyes.

“Peace!” bellowed the king, slamming his fists on the table. They all fell silent, and the king spoke again: “Our feelings outmatch our wisdom. With time our feelings will diminish, and with time our wisdom will grow. Let us continue this dialectic when sufficient time has passed. Jareth, I’ve had enough of your incivility for one day—you, who play the victim and prod those who love you when you should be apologizing for the part you’ve played in this. Everyone, get out.”

Everyone rose to leave, but before they reached the door, the king said, “Jareth.”

The prince paused as the others streamed out of the room. Janah cast one final sad look at her brother before disappearing around the bend. The door closed behind her softly but with grim finality.

“Sit,” said Jezra. So, Jareth stood. Disregarding his son’s defiance, the king said, “I know how little you think of me, boy. I know you mistake my tact for weakness. I once stood in your shoes mistaking the same.”

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture, old man.”

Jezra’s jaw tightened, and he glared furiously at his son for a moment. But then, he softened. “Good. I’m not in the mood to give one. Whatever you do next, I ask only this. Do it because you truly believe it will serve others. Honest mistakes I can accept from you, but if someday you’ve grown into a miserable prig who thinks only of himself no matter the cost to those around you . . . that, I will see that as my greatest failure in this life.” He fell silent for a moment, allowing the silence to convey the weight of his words. Then he said, “Now, really. Get out.”

Jareth gave a sharp nod and left the room feeling very small.

#

The first attack came a few nights later. A herdsman was found in a splattered mess of blood with deep gashes carved in his face and body.

“No wolf could do this,” said one townsperson.

“Nor even a bear,” said another.

“It’s murder!” cried a third.

The watchman who witnessed the attack could only speak in trembling whispers of a terrible beast that moved like a ghost or shadow.

After three similar attacks, Janah sought out her brother and explained what was happening. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.

He lay in his bed, staring up into the rafters, the same place he had largely remained since the ordeal beyond the wall. There had been little to do except watch and wait—until now. “A shadowy beast?” he said, sitting up eagerly. “The men can’t say what it is?”

“I’m glad to see your ears still work.”

“This is not good,” he muttered. He then sat in awkward silence, for Janah seemed to be awaiting something from him. After a while, he continued: “The lady was unlike anything you’ve ever seen, Janah. Her voice, her beauty, her kiss! I feel as though I’ve been asleep my whole life, but for one perfect moment, she helped me glimpse what it’s like to be awake.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. She kissed you?”

“Yes, but not how you’re thinking. It’s difficult to explain.”

“Well, now she’s dismembering people.”

“I suppose . . .” He paused to give Janah a somber look. “Can I trust you?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course you can trust me.”

His brows took a severe slant. “Don’t you try and worm out of this, Janah. I’m asking if I can trust you not to speak a single word of what I’m about to tell you to anyone.”

Heavens, brother, what are you getting at? How can I promise to keep a secret I haven’t heard? Yet how can you tell a secret I haven’t promised to keep?  “Yes,” she finally said. “I promise.”

“I’m going out there again.”

“Jareth!”

“Save it. I know everything you would say, but I have to do it. My lady thinks I betrayed her, and I simply can’t have that. Plus, if she’s sent this . . . monster as a response to my perceived betrayal, then it’s my responsibility to try and repair things. I’m perfectly aware of the danger, but I have to try. Aunt Mabel said it’s moments like these where I decide what sort of king I will be. Try not to worry too much. I’ll wear my armor, I’ll carry my sword, and I’ll even bring the gnomes for good measure.”

“What? Aunt Mabel? Gnomes? You’re out of your mind. This is exactly how I would expect an enchanted person to act.”

“You know, I think you might be right. I think I may be enchanted. If so, I want more.” He paused, noting her frustration. “You promised not to tell anyone. Remember that.”

She groaned and began pacing the room with great animation. “Then, why are you telling me all of this? Is it not a cry for help?”

“I do want your help, but not the help you imagine. I want you to keep an eye on Nyxius while I’m gone. He can twist the facts to match his twisted soul, but I tell you now—that snake tried to kill me, and he’ll do it again. Don’t let him out of your sight, and handle him with care.”

She laughed grimly. “You think I can’t tell he’s up to something?”

“Well, you certainly haven’t said so.”

“I’ve been a bit occupied trying to stop you fleeing into the wild.”

“If you’d like to stop something, stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I prefer you as an ally, not an opponent. Will you work with me?”

She gave a heavy sigh. “Against my better judgment, yes. I will.”

#

Jareth found Logos, Pathos, and Ethos tending to Aunt Mabel’s vegetable garden. “Hello, friends!” he said.

Pathos looked up and wiped the soil off his hands. “Your demeanor is cheerful yet devious. You’ll ask us for something.”

Ethos dashed to Jareth and looked up eagerly at him. “Is it true? Your last assignment was simply divine, especially the part where you ordered me to pillage the wizard. That fellow was rich!”

“Oh?” said Jareth, frowning. “Well, at any rate, I want to go find the lady again. It will be more of a challenge this time, and with far greater peril. So, I won’t order you to join me. That said, I covet your hands and eyes if you can spare them.”

“And our necks too, apparently,” said Pathos, scowling.

Logos pressed the back of his hand to his forehead like one swooning. “Oh, but the lady . . . she was an angel! I would die a thousand times if only to see her again.” He fell flat on his back, grinning dreamily up into the clouds.

“You can’t die repeatedly,” said Pathos, rolling his eyes. “And what would be the point?”

The door opened, and Mabel stepped out of her house. She had been smiling, but upon seeing Jareth, she gave a violent start and hissed, “What are you doing here?”

Momentarily surprised and discouraged by Mabel’s distress, Jareth soon relaxed upon realizing what had happened. “I take it Mother got to you?”

“Obviously! People are dying! You shouldn’t be here, Jareth.”

“That’s fine. I was just leaving. Mind if I borrow the triplets?”

Mabel put her hands on her hips and fixed Jareth with a scowl. “You are not thinking of going back out there! Did you not hear me? I said people are dying!”

“Yes, that’s precisely why I have to go. You said it yourself, I must choose what kind of king I want to be. I choose courage.”

“There’s a fine line between courage and recklessness, child. Now is simply not the time to be bullheaded. You’ve already caused serious harm.”

“I caused nothing!” growled Jareth, his feigned nonchalance giving way to his true heart. “I trusted my instincts, and my instincts were right. I stood face-to-face with the lady, and I know she’s good. Wild and dangerous, yes—but good. She’s everything I thought, and more. The only reason she turned on us was because Nyxius attacked her. She thinks I lured her into a trap, and I’d wager he attacked her precisely to make her think so. To attack her was to attack us—a subtle power grab, worthy of a snake. I see it all as clearly as I see you, and whether you, or my father, or your niece, or your sister have any faith in my vision, I see it. I will not have this kingdom crumble beneath the weight of my cowardice—not now or ever. I am not my father. You helped me down a path, Mabel, and I will take the next steps now, whether you like it or not. The wisdom you once offered has transcended you.”

Mabel began pacing, much like Janah had, agitated by his tenacity. “It’s a disaster,” she muttered, wagging her head.

Pathos stepped forward. “If he’s wrong, the lady will kill him. But if that’s the case, the damage is already done. She’s already against us. If he’s right, however, then he may quench her wrath and save us. The solution he offers is therefore a sensible one.”

Mabel stopped pacing, and her mouth fell open. “Unbelievable. And what do you say, Logos? Ethos?”

Logos spoke without hesitation, his voice cracking with passion: “I will not rest until my eyes rest on her. My ears will rot in my head until her voice has soothed them. My heart—”

“We get the point,” said Pathos.

“What fun,” said Ethos, grinning. “Can we go now?”

“You’d better be right,” said Mabel grimly. “If you’re not, Elora will wrap her dainty little queen fingers around our necks and strangle us both. Let me pack you some food.”

#

The next morning revealed another gruesome death, this time a watchman. Whatever attacked him was mighty enough to cut straight through his steel armor, but yet again, none saw more than fleeting glimpses of the dark assailant.

Queen Elora visited Jareth’s room that morning only to find him absent, then sought out Janah. “Have you seen your brother?” she asked.

“Not since yesterday,” came Janah’s reply. “Why?”

“He’s not in his chambers.”

Janah adopted a look of bewilderment. “Strange. Then again, he had been holed up for days. Perhaps he just needed some air. I’ll go look for him.”

“Splendid,” said Elora, and as she watched Janah stroll out of view, she huffed and mumbled to herself. “I think it’s time to go see my sister again.”

Walking the streets of the city, Elora passed many townspeople and observed with dismay that fear now hung thick in the air like a smoky haze, choking out all joy and levity. No one smiled, and many crept through the shadows like hunted beasts. Nyxius always warned that these mountains are full of darkness, she thought. Is this our future?

Elora reached Mabel’s house, and when the door opened, it took only a moment for the queen to conclude what she had already suspected: “Jareth came by again.”

“N-no!” stammered Mabel. “He didn’t! Why would you think that?”

“It’s funny, Janah lied to me just now too. Can we skip the thrust and parry and get to the part where you tell me what’s going on?”

“I didn’t help him this time!” cried Mabel. “Well, I suppose I gave him food . . . and gnomes . . . but I tried to stop him, first! His mind was already made up! He thinks he can fix this.”

“Please tell me you aren’t saying what I think you’re saying.”

Mabel could only stare at the floor in silence.

Elora’s next words came out low and ominous. “If you’ve just helped my boy to his death . . .” She rose and made for the door.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Mabel, but Elora was already gone. Though Mabel saw her sister’s wrath, what she did not see were the tears gathering in her eyes, the tears of a helpless mother.

#

“You’re all troubled,” said Nyxius. He and the royal family had been eating their evening meal in heavy silence. “Is there some way I can join in bearing your burdens?”

“No,” said Elora. “All we can do now is wait out the storm.”

“Is Jareth well? I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“He’s fine,” cut in Janah, casting a subtle look toward her mother that she hoped would be understood.

Elora met the gaze and frowned almost imperceptibly, then turned to Nyxius. “Yes, he’s still recovering. He feels guilty for the attacks, as he should. But he will be fine.”

“He means well,” said Nyxius, nodding gravely. “I hope that with time he can lay this dark matter to rest.”

King Jezra looked up from his meal and addressed the wizard. “Have you still no notion of what’s attacking us?”

“Without seeing it firsthand, I cannot be sure,” replied Nyxius. “I suspect we are dealing with a wraith or demon sent by the lady, or perhaps the lady herself. I wish I could offer more.”

“Then, why not see it firsthand?” said Janah.

Nyxius winced upon realizing the trap he had unwittingly set for himself. “My lady?”

“The kingdom is in danger, and your powers are formidable. The guild sent you here to protect and instruct us. Perhaps you should keep watch in the coming nights and put a stop to these attacks.”

“My lady, I—”

“Yes,” said the king. “My daughter is right. You will keep watch tonight.”

Nyxius sighed. “Your wish is my pleasure,” he said. He then turned to Janah and gave her a cold smile. I cannot wait to get my hands on you, little rose.

#

Prince Jareth reached the base of a frightfully steep pass and paused to scour the slope for a manageable path. Along either side of the pass, two peaks of the mountain rose to the starry heavens like snow-topped spires. Higher up the pass from where Jareth stood, the firs and shrubs gave way to bare granite. Beyond that, a wall of snow.

To reach the ridge between the peaks would require more effort than he felt he could muster. Already gasping from the journey to that point, his legs and lungs burned as though full of hot wax; his heart pounded with jarring intensity; and his head felt as light and thin as the mountain air around him. All food had been consumed early in the journey under the mistaken belief that it would be a far shorter journey than what it had become. Worst of all, his steel-plated armor, which at first felt light, now seemed to resist his every step—unceasingly, unyieldingly dragging him toward the ground.

The gnomes, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, rambling league after league with great ease.

“You’re sure your eyes did not deceive you?” said Pathos when they reached the bottom of the pass. “You’re not the toughest I’ve seen. Maybe the strenuous journey is making you hallucinate.”

“I’m quite sure,” said Jareth. “I’m telling you, she ran up that pass, and she wants us to follow.” Though he had caught only fleeting glimpses of the lady throughout their journey, she always revealed herself just when he thought of giving up, always inviting him to follow—ever forward, ever higher. Though he did not understand why she sought it, he did understand what she sought, and for him this had been enough. If she wanted him to follow, he would follow. Until his legs gave out and he could crawl no further, he would follow.

Testing this resolve, the lady had led him tearing through thickets, slipping across frost-coated boulders, splashing through glacial streams, and finally to the base of the pass before him. And now he stood leagues from home, hungry, exhausted, and driven by only the faintest hope—faint as a candle, ever a mere gust from flickering out. For now, however, it burned; and while it burned, he carried on.

As Jareth stood there, willing his legs to carry him up the pass, an eerie sound pierced the peaceful night: the howl of a wolf, and far closer than Jareth would have liked. A second howl issued from even closer.

Jareth wheeled to scan the edge of the trees, and it did not take long for the wolves to materialize from the shadows—tall, sinewy beasts with shaggy gray and white fur, their bright amber eyes trained hungrily on the prince and his companions. He found it frightfully easy to imagine the wolves’ teeth clamping down on him, shaking him like a doll, tearing the flesh from his bones.

“This is the end!” cried Logos, falling face-flat in the dust.

Jareth withdrew his sword and sprang forward, making himself a barrier between the wolves and the gnomes.

“Careful with their pelts,” said Ethos. “Those beauties would sell for a pretty penny.”

The thrill of the moment gave Jareth a burst of strength as he raised the sword and prepared to fight. “Stay behind me,” he growled.

#

For three nights, Nyxius joined the watchmen, and for three nights, there was no attack. Princess Janah found this pattern troubling.

“Don’t bother with the watch anymore,” she told Nyxius the morning after his third shift. “I think we’re safe now.”

“I think so, too,” said Nyxius with a sly glint in his eyes.

That evening, as the red and yellow of dusk gave way to twilight blue, Janah positioned herself near the wizard’s chambers to spy on him. Not so much as a whisper emerged from his room until deep into the night; but at that time, she began to hear something like a chant floating through the air in a haunting hiss. She crept closer to the door, her heart racing, hoping to catch a glimpse of the scene inside.

The chanting came to an abrupt halt, and she halted with it. “Princess Janah,” called out Nyxius from around the corner, his singsong tone thick with mockery. To her, he sounded not merely mocking but dangerous. She whirled and fled down the dark hall, groping desperately along the cool stone walls. Upon reaching her room, she locked it tightly and slipped a long knife beneath the folds of her dress. From now on, she would keep the weapon close at hand.

The next morning, two more watchmen were found in a gory mess, and Janah could wait no longer. She sought out her parents and found them in their chambers, both looking as worn and weary as she had ever seen them, the burdens of the kingdom weighing heavy on their shoulders. “It’s Nyxius,” she said.

“What?” said the king.

Elora sighed wearily. “Can we talk about this later, whatever it is?”

“No!” snapped Janah. “We can talk about it now. Nyxius is the one killing people, and I think we’re in danger.”

“Shut the door,” said Jezra. Once done, he continued: “That is a grievous charge to bring against anyone, let alone the royal house wizard. What are the facts?”

“The facts!” cried Janah. “Well, let’s see . . . your son has been warning us for years that Nyxius is dangerous. Then, to prove it, Nyxius very nearly killed him. Then, we put Nyxius on watch, and no one dies. Then, last night, when he wasn’t on watch, two more people die—and I heard him performing some strange ritual before it happened. He knows I’m onto him, and he’s getting bolder. Something bad is about to happen.”

“Janah, darling,” said the king, and Janah’s heart sank, for it was clear from his tone that she had failed to persuade him—“those are not facts. Those are conjectures built on conjectures.”

Janah became as grim as a graveyard and turned to leave the room. “We’re all in danger, and Nyxius lurks at the heart of it. I promise you that.”

She pulled open the door, and standing on the other side was the wizard himself. “Speak of an angel, and hear his wings,” he said with a sneer, then raised his staff. The shadows deepened as the staff began to glow.

The king sprang forward and pulled his daughter out of the way. “Stay behind me,” he growled.

#

The wolves advanced slowly and formed an arc around Jareth and the gnomes, leaving no avenue for escape. Heads low, fangs bared, they crept forward, closing the distance slowly but inevitably.

“Why aren’t we running?” said Logos, whimpering.

“You can’t outrun a wolf,” said Pathos. “And anyway, Ethos would trip you to ensure his own safety.”

“No I wouldn’t!” cried Ethos. “It would be much easier to trip the boy, assuming he hadn’t already tripped himself.”

Jareth ignored the trio and stood brandishing his sword at the wolves. The nearest wolf crouched, preparing to pounce, and Jareth drew a slow inhale, tightening his hands on his sword. In the stillness before the fight, Jareth’s senses heightened, and he seemed to hear every faintest breath and notice every faintest swaying of the grass. He was ready.

But then the wolf abruptly paused and turned its attention to something over Jareth’s head. The entire pack followed suit, and Jareth blew a slow, trembling exhale through pursed lips. He turned to see what had captured the wolves’ attention, but in truth, he already knew.

Standing atop the ridge was indeed his lady, bright and vivid as he had ever seen her—though small, for the pass rose high into the mountains. Even so, when she called out, “Come to me,” the sound rang out as clearly as if she had said it directly into his ear.

“I’m coming,” he whispered, trusting that she could hear. The wolves had turned and meandered tranquilly back into the forest, so Jareth sheathed his sword and began the ascent.

One unsteady step at a time, he climbed the pass. Along the way, loose stones often slid out from under his feet, forcing him to fall forward in a cloud of gray dust, grasping at the stones before him to arrest his momentum. Once settled, he would rise, brush off his hands, and continue. It seemed to him that no matter how far he climbed, the top only retreated farther up, and he was only halfway to the top when faintness nearly sent him toppling backward down the mountain. When the faintness took him, he dropped to his knees and took a series of long, slow breaths, searching himself for whatever strength remained. He found only frailty within himself, but what ultimately drew him forward was to look up and see the lady still there waiting for him, his glittering north star. With his eyes down, he saw only an endless trail of dust and stone; with his eyes on his north star, he believed he could make it.

Stone eventually gave way to snow, and the challenge intensified. Even the gnomes seemed put off by the stiff, slippery path and began to grumble. Jareth paused at one point along the glacier—gasping, aching, ill, and desperate for the end. He could tell that his feet were blistered and bleeding inside his boots, and when he looked up, he found himself still entirely too far from the top.

Looking to his lady, he shouted, “Will you not help me?” But she just stood there, smiling.

Jareth fell to his knees and bowed his head in defeat. I can’t do it. Even if I reach the top, I still have to make the return journey. My spirit longs to endure, but my body is weak. My body will give out. She has lured me to my death.

“Must I help you?” she said.

He looked up. “Yes. I need your help.”

“Then, get up and come to me.”

Like one in a trance, he rose and began to walk again, one stiff step after another. Although the climb remained as painful as before, he somehow also now knew it was inevitable that he would reach the top; and indeed, the distance between him and the lady steadily closed in what seemed to be one smooth motion. His hope, no longer a mere wish, crystallized into a certainty, and he soon found himself standing atop the ridge, blinking with bewilderment. The lady, upon seeing his surprise, burst into laughter and pranced down into the basin beyond the ridge. Below lay a cluster of alpine lakes, their icy clear water a reflection of the stars overhead. The lakes shimmered with a mystical blue glow, and the earth around them flourished with lush greenery populated by innumerable flowers—golden dryas, lilac saxifrage, and amber spikenard along beds of earthy green moss.

“You are weary,” said the lady. “Come! Eat, drink, rest.”

A garden lay amidst the lakes, and she pranced to the center of it, inviting him to join her. To get there, Jareth would have to descend into the basin and walk through an archway of twisted branches that opened onto a garden path of smooth stones. He did this without hesitation and soon found himself once more face-to-face with his lady. Only this time he stood not in his kingdom, but in hers.

#

The courier raced down the mountain as fast as his legs would carry him and soon came within view of the military outpost he was tasked to reach. The tents and campfires in the outpost fluttered in the stirring wind as he approached the warrior chief—a bulky man whose dark eyes glittered dangerously out of a weathered, thickly bearded face. The chief sat alone beside a small fire just inside the palisade, waiting.

“A message from Nyxius, House Wizard to King Jezra,” said the courier, panting, as he extended a letter to the chief.

The chief snatched the paper and pulled it open to find this message:

Friends,

The time has come. Forced by necessity, I make my move sooner than anticipated. By the time you read this, the king and queen will be dead, and the princess will be mine. Come quickly, and come prepared for battle. The kingdom is yours.

Your humble servant,

Nyxius, House Wizard

A smile crept across the chief’s grizzled face. “Warriors!” he bellowed, rising and taking up his spear. His next words came out in a fiery growl: “The battle begins.”

The warriors erupted into a frenzy of battle cries, then scrambled like ants into action.

#

 “My lady,” said Jareth, the juice of some delectable unknown fruit running down the side of his mouth, “I cannot enjoy another bite from your table without addressing what brings me here.” With every bite, he felt his withered limbs and muscles absorbing new strength, and the water he drank from the lakes seemed to flow in him like a living stream. It took little time for him to feel that the greatest weakness he had ever felt was now replaced by more strength than he had ever possessed.

“Oh, but you really can,” said Ethos, stuffing his cheeks to capacity.

Logos had struggled to eat much, as he kept bursting into tears. Pathos asked him a few times why in the world he was crying, to which Logos would answer, “I don’t know!” or “I’m just so happy!” Pathos quickly gave up trying to understand and continued with his meal.

“You came to me,” said the lady with joy. “You really are my friend. I hoped you would come. Now that you’re here, and now that we’re friends, we can talk about anything!” For the second time in his life, she kissed him, and for a moment he almost forgot why he had fought so hard to reach her. There was only this moment, this perfect now.

But no, he had to deal with the issue at hand. She was delightful, yes—so delightful that it frightened him; but she was powerful, too, and she was killing people. This had to stop, and he hadn’t risked everything merely to abandon his people.

“Wait!” he cried, shaking his head. “No! You’ve killed so many of my people. You have to stop hurting them.”

The look of outrage that came over the lady made Jareth cringe and shrink back. “Killed!” she shrieked. “Killed? I have killed no one! You demean me, my love. You are not my friend!”

She sprang to her feet and began to flee, but Jareth cried out, “Wait! Oh heavens, wait! Please! I beg you!” She stopped and stood in place, her back still turned to him. He jumped to his feet and pleaded with her: “Many have been killed, my lady. Brutally, horribly killed. It began as soon as you left. Everyone says it’s you. We’ve all been led to believe it’s you. You’re telling me that you haven’t been killing my people?”

Back still turned, she said, “No,” and her voice was full of sorrow.

“Then who’s doing it?” muttered Pathos.

“The wizard, obviously,” said Ethos through his stuffed cheeks. “He gets it. He understands how the world works.”

Logos sprang to his feet. “Yes, the wizard!” He began stomping around and shaking his fists in a rage. “This time, I’ll have his head on a pike. I’ll bathe in his blood! I’ll tear his face from his skull! I’ll savor the sweet aroma of his rotting corpse!”

“Please calm down,” said Pathos.

“If it’s Nyxius . . .” said Jareth, trailing off as the reality struck him. “Oh no,” he whispered, feeling suddenly desperate. “If that’s true, then it’s already too late. Oh no, no, no—what have I done? I have to get back.”

The lady approached Jareth and threw her arms around his neck. “You’ve been deceived,” she said, nuzzling her head under his chin. He felt her affection and sorrow deeply and cherished the embrace. She then released him, and her tone grew truly ominous: “The deceiver of my friend is my enemy. He dug the grave for you, and I will bury him in it.”

Before Jareth could reply, the lady swept him into a blur of motion. It was like falling, or flying, or becoming the wind. He might have cried out had he been able to, but in a flash, he found himself standing on the front steps of the castle. The lady and the gnomes stood beside him, and the gnomes looked every bit as confused and bedraggled as he felt.

“My love,” she said, peering at the horizon, “an army approaches, and their intentions are hostile. I will stop them. Find your family.” Again, she gave Jareth no time to respond. Like the dart from a bow, she sped out of the city.

“Wait!” cried Ethos, running after her. “I want to see what they have!”

“Follow me,” growled Jareth to the remaining two gnomes. He turned and rushed into the castle, making for Janah’s chambers, but he found her room empty. Grim expectations began to set in. Why would she be out at this time of night? What am I about to find?

He next rushed to his parents’ room, but he had not even reached the door before his dread was confirmed. The king lay on the floor, and something was not right about him. A purplish hue colored one side of his face, and his bloodshot eyes were partially open and completely blank—lifeless.

A silent sob quivered in Jareth’s throat, but there was no time for grief. Not yet, anyway. First, Jareth had to find his mother and sister. He clenched his jaw and blinked back the tears, then crept toward the door with his sword in hand. He refused to look down at his father’s corpse for fear of losing himself.

Lamplight danced and flickered in the room as Jareth slowly eased around the corner. The first thing he saw was a pool of crimson, then a body lying face-down in it. Panic erupted like a geyser in him, but he had little time to experience this, for someone sprang from behind the door and lunged, screaming, at Jareth. He jumped back just in time to narrowly miss being stabbed in the top of the head—by his own mother. She quickly realized what she had almost done and dropped the knife, clanging, onto the stone floor. Her hands flew up to her mouth. “Oh heavens, I’m so sorry!” she cried, then rushed forward to embrace him.

“What happened?” said Jareth blankly, his resolve withering.

“Your father . . . my Jezra . . .” She could say no more.

Janah emerged from the room and cautiously scanned the hallways. Her wan, expressionless face hinted at a profound numbness. “Father died protecting us from that snake,” she said, spitting the final word with violent hatred. “I tried to knife him after that, but he got to me. Mother finished the job. We knew the coward would never attack us without reinforcements on the way, so we’ve been lying in wait. Did you see anyone when you returned?”

Pathos stepped forward. “No, but the magic lady reported an army approaching and said she was dealing with it. I would not wish to be that army.”

Janah nodded slowly, and upon realizing that the danger had passed, the dam burst. She, Jareth, and Elora rushed to each other, locked in a three-way embrace, and fell to their knees, their sobs echoing down the dark hallway.

After a while, Jareth pulled away and crawled to his father. “You died a hero,” he said, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks as he reached out to close the king’s eyes for the last time. His spirit writhed within him to see that his father was not there, not really. This cold, stiff face was not his father’s. His father was gone, and he would not return.

The little boy in Jareth cowered in the face of what seemed a massive wall of darkness—a wall he would have to meet head-on. Never again could he hide behind the strongest man he knew. It was his turn to carry the world. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were more than I deserved, and I never told you, and now I can’t. It’s too late.”

Indeed, there was no going back, no fixing it. The past was set, and a terrible hole was torn into the future, for his father would not be there. He cast a glance toward his mother and sister, who were still holding each other and crying.

I still have them.

He turned back to his father. “Don’t worry, Father,” he whispered. “I failed you, but I won’t fail them. And maybe . . .” His chin quivered—“maybe I can be a hero like you someday.”

He crumpled onto his father’s chest and soaked the fallen hero with his tears.

When Jareth finally rose, he rose a king.

#

Ten years later, Jareth sat awake in his chambers, gazing out across a thriving and prosperous kingdom. His window faced north, and beyond the wall he watched, enchanted, as his lady danced among the silvery moonlit trees.

“Who is that, Father?” asked Juliana, tugging at his sleeve.

“That, my darling, is our ethereal friend. She loves our kingdom, she loves me, and she loves you.” He gave his little girl a playful tap on the nose.

Juliana giggled. “She can’t love me! She’s never met me!”

He smiled down at the princess and considered a lesson he’d learned in the final days of his father’s rule. Had he listened to the voices of his overly cautious companions, the kingdom would have been lost—slowly but inevitably poisoned by the venom of a snake. On the other hand, had he plunged ahead, heedless of obstacles, he would have raced off a cliff.

There is a haste that hinders; there is a waiting that wastes; there is a faith that fortifies. Somewhere in all of it lies the narrow way of wisdom. Father knew this.

“Father?”

“You have met her,” said Jareth, breaking from his reflections to give the princess a playful smile. “But it’s clearly been too long. Run along and fetch your batty aunt Janah, and tell her to bring the gnomes. We’ll go see our lady together. We’ll make a night of it.”

Juliana pranced eagerly out of the room, her little ringlets bouncing behind her. As King Jareth rose to follow, he paused to note with relish the sound of his lady’s laughter drifting through the air. After all those years, it was still his favorite sound.

END