“What is that?” Arabelle shrieked, and Maurice automatically began uttering his spell. An orb grew around them and Gregor dragged Terry into its protective light. A tiny but hideous humanoid face emerged from Talia’s temple, followed by a six-legged body, glowing pale greenish white. It was a spider about the size of a toddler, with a face that looked disturbingly like Terry’s. Ignoring the four of them encased in the orb, the spider-thing skittered into the forest.

Maurice stopped his utterance, slipped on his Mercury sandals, and took off after the creature.

“What’s he going to do if he catches it?” Gregor said.

“I don’t know,” Terry said. “Tell us where it goes so we can track it?”

“We can’t track a random monster,” Gregor said. “We have a troll army to fight!”

As he said so, Maurice returned. “I lost it in the forest,” he admitted. “That thing is really fast.”

“Oh my God,” Terry said. “This is just what Old Tom warned me about. And I went and did it. All the power is gone from my golden ball, too.” She hefted it in her hands.

“How can you tell?” Gregor said.

“I don’t know. I just can. Here, I’ll try to throw it, and see if it comes back.”

She tossed it, and sure enough, it flew through the air quite normally. They heard it land on the grass with a soft thud.

The four of them stood in silence for a moment, glum and freaked out.

“Do you think it will come back?” Arabelle said. “And how dangerous is it? We should kill it while it’s young.”

“We can’t even find it,” Gregor said. “We have a mission. A clear mission. Let’s focus on it and worry about that—thing—later.”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Maurice. “Why don’t we search the armory for something Terry can use. Do you have any preferences, Terry?”

“I don’t know,” Terry said. “I can’t even think about it. But you’re right, of course—it’s a good idea to go check out the armory. For all of us.”

The four of them re-entered the castle. Arabelle continued her glow spell and Terry led them down several hallways, chambers, and antechambers until they reached a long hall full of incredible pieces of armor and weaponry. The four of them wandered through the chamber, touching one piece and another, murmuring to themselves.

“Why, this light little helmet fits right over my head,” Arabelle breathed.

“Elven,” Terry said. “Go on, use it if you like.”

“I kind of love it,” she said, smiling.

Maurice examined a heavy leather waistcoat, used for fencing. He slipped it on, and it fit perfectly.

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Gregor traded for an even heavier iron sword and shield. Then Terry saw his eyes grow wide in the soft glow of Arabelle’s spell.

“What is that?” he said, and walked over to a heavily studded mace. He grabbed it in one meaty fist and swung it experimentally. “Feels good,” he said.

“Looks good,” Terry said.

“Yeah, don’t hit us,” Maurice added. “But that mace was made for you.”

Terry looked around, but couldn’t see anything that suited her. She still felt soul-sick at the loss of the golden ball, and how her greed for it had unleashed something horrible that she could do nothing about at the moment.

“Do you see anything you like, Terry?” Arabelle asked gently.

“Not really,” Terry said sadly.

“I think I might have just the thing,” said a soft voice, and Terry turned around. It was her mother, standing at the doorway of the armory. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, “and I heard your voices.”

“I hope we didn’t disturb you, mother,” Terry said.

“No, no,” the queen replied. “I’m glad to see you here. This is what the armory is for—to support those who defend the kingdom. Terry, come look over there, behind the smallest suit of armor.”

Terry walked over to a golden suit of armor that looked as if it would fit her perfectly. Behind it, on a small dais, was a golden crossbow.

“The armor is ceremonial,” the queen said, “but the crossbow is deadly, and I think it will take very well to Maurice’s blessings.”

Terry picked it up and aimed it. It felt good in her hands.

“I have an unlimited arrow spell,” Arabelle said, “that would be perfect for your weapon.”

“And, as the queen mentions, I can give it a blessing that will make it the scourge of every evil magic beast,” Maurice added, bowing in the direction of Terry’s mother.

“It’s settled, then,” the queen said. “You shall have the crossbow.”

Terry embraced her mother. “Thank you,” she said. “Do you forgive me?”

“For saving the kingdom?” her mother asked, smiling slightly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Oh, but I did, Terry thought, but kept it to herself.

The queen departed, and the four of them prepared to wait out the dawn in one of the great reception rooms. As they settled onto chairs and couches, Terry whispered, “Do you think we should tell them?”

“About the new monster?” Gregor said. “I mean, yes. But I’m not sure what they’ll be able to do about it. They’ve already got the strongest protection spells possible on the castle, and they don’t have the manpower to go chasing after something so small and fast.”

“I’ll tell them in the morning before we go,” Terry said.

In the cold dawn, the king and his chancellor saw them off, and the old scribe gave them a satchel full of scrip.

“Don’t get this wet,” the scribe warned, seriously.

“I see you visited the armory last night,” the king said approvingly. “Oh, yes, the mace of Brutus. Excellent choice.” He started to sing.

Many monsters and men

Have come to their end

When they faced the mace of Brutus!

Oh, the mighty mace of Brutus!

“We don’t have time for all twenty verses,” Terry interjected, smiling. “But I do love that song.”

The king laughed, and his eyes were moist. “I’m just jealous, you know,” he confided. “This old man would like to be out there, fighting trolls with you.”

“Your duty is to rule the kingdom,” Terry said. Then she swallowed hard. “Before we leave,” she said quietly, “I have some bad news. We saw a monster emerge from Talia’s body. It’s a—uh, spider-like creature with a human face. It skittered into the forest before we could do anything—Maurice gave chase, but we lost it.”

Somehow, she couldn’t bear to tell the king that her greed for the golden ball had unleashed the thing.

The king grew serious. “We’re protected by every magic spell,” he said. “Let’s hope this creature cannot breach those protections. And we will—uh, take care of the remains immediately.” He looked sorrowful. “Your mother was hoping for some sort of burial—” he broke off.

“I’m so sorry,” Terry said.

The king shook off his mood and grasped Terry by the upper arm.

“Go rid my royal forest of the trolls,” he said.

And off they marched into the cold dawn, not knowing what kind of destruction awaited them, or how the rabble army was managing against the evil and clever creatures.

“Are they holding the line?” Gregor said out loud as they crossed the royal lawn into the line of trees that began the forest.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Terry replied.