The two of them walked silently at first, in the strange but peaceful no man’s land between the stone city walls and the glass-like boundary of the magic dome.

“I love what you’ve done to the place,” Old Tom said.

“It looks better out here than it does inside, that’s for sure,” Terry replied. “Zyzzyva’s undead army and the flying wraiths have almost ruined the city.”

“They’re a strong people,” Old Tom said. “Listen to them.”

Terry could hear faint laughter and celebration, and the occasional three cheers to the warrior princess.

“Not an hour since you conjured the dome, and they’re ready to start rebuilding tomorrow,” Old Tom said. “Ah, I love mortals sometimes.”

“Thanks,” Terry said.

“But it’s not over yet, my dear. Terry, I hardly recognize ye. So grown and strong, and smart! And you found my lovely Arabelle. I’m glad for that. She was so unhappy. And you haven’t called me yet.”

“Will you really come?” Terry said.

“Is that why you haven’t called?” Old Tom said, and Terry noticed he seemed a bit hurt. “That’s my word, my girl! That’s Old Tom’s word!”

Something in his manner took Terry back a little. He didn’t change on the outside, but he just—became scary, somehow. Offended.

“I apologize if that’s what it sounded like,” Terry said immediately and humbly. “You’re—Old Tom. I’m a mortal. I don’t want to waste your time.”

Old Tom laughed, and his scary aspect dissolved. “I don’t deal in time the same way you do,” he said. “But I understand your impulse to wait until you really need me. You’re right—it is a test. And if you did call me on something frivolous, or something you could work out for yourself, it would be bad for you and bad for the kingdom.”

“I always thought as much,” Terry said. “I must work things out on my own.”

They walked in silence for a bit. Terry could hear the crunching of their footsteps on the gravel that extended a few feet outside of the castle walls. The old waning moon was close to setting, and the stars, behind the dome, seemed far away.

“I hope it doesn’t get stuffy in here,” Terry said. “I should talk to Arabelle about modifying the spell so that air gets through.”

Old Tom laughed. “Always thinking,” he said, tapping his temple. “You’ve protected the city well. Things have already shifted now, because of your actions.”

“I’m not done yet,” Terry said, thrusting her hands behind her back and contemplating the path before her. “I have a wizard to defeat.”

“More than just a wizard,” Old Tom said.

“Right,” Terry said. “A great and powerful wizard.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“That’s not what I meant,” Old Tom said, with a wry smile.

“What did you mean?” Terry asked, glancing over. But he was gone. Of course, he was gone.

Terry walked the rest of the city in silence, considering Old Tom’s words. Did he mean the wizard’s army? Did the wizard have some horrible ally that she knew nothing of? She chewed over his words as she entered the main gate, then filed it away as she returned to the castle. Hemdale, Arabelle, and Maurice were poring over books and writing down spells.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Not too bad,” Maurice said. “We’ve found an unbinding spell for a castle made of sand—it conjures up a great wind—that Arabelle can do as our first attack.”

“And then we’re just compiling all the spells we can against witches and trolls.”

“Excellent,” Terry said. “We leave at dawn. Hemdale, you’re in charge of the city. Please bring someone over to take care of the old duchess tomorrow.”

Terry retired to the great room to close her eyes on the couch where Gregor had spent his afternoon. It still smelled like him. She did not sleep, but just rested, and wondered if she would ever see her friend again. When she opened her eyes again, it was the cold gray dawn. She sat up, put on her helmet, and returned to the banquet room. The candles were burned down to their nubs, and her three companions were slumped over their books. She gently shook Maurice awake.

“It’s time,” she said quietly.

Maurice nodded, and Hemdale and Arabelle also stirred awake. They walked into the cold courtyard, where the chariot waited.

“How are they going to get through the dome?” Terry asked.

“I’m conjuring a door,” Arabelle said. “You’ll have to hold the reins for a minute so that I can close it after we leave.”

“Okay,” Terry said. “It’s good practice for when I’ll have to hold them in the battle.”

“Can people breathe under this thing?” Maurice said.

“That’s you, Maurice. Always thinking,” Terry replied, tapping her temple.

“Don’t worry. Air gets through,” Arabelle said, and slipped her magic wand out of her sleeve. A bit of sun peeped over the horizon—a tiny red spark, then a half disk, still watchable, then a full yellow circle that dazzled the eyes. Arabelle waved her wand and uttered her words, and a massive square gap appeared in the dome. Then she called the horses.

“Aethon!”

“Pyrois!”

The four of them watched with wonder as the giant horses flew out of the golden dawn, the sun bouncing off of their majestic bodies—one black, one white. They flew through the break in the dome and the chariot magically attached to them. Then it was time to go.

“Godspeed,” Hemdale said.

“We’ll see you when this is over,” Terry said. They stepped up into the golden chariot, and Arabelle took the reins.

“Let’s go!” she said, and the horses took off into the sky, expertly flying through the conjured door of the dome.

“Take the reins,” Arabelle said, and Terry grasped them with all her might while Arabelle sealed the dome, then put her wand back in her sleeve and accepted the reins back. Terry and Maurice watched as Hemdale, waving madly, got smaller, and smaller. Then the city itself diminished in size, until all they could see was the glassy dome, glittering and golden in the morning sun.

The horses flew faster than Terry remembered, and it wasn’t long before she could see her own castle. Just as Arabelle had described, there was a ragtag army surrounding the grounds. Even from a great distance, she could see that they wore no uniforms and carried only lances.

“How could they ever defend the kingdom?” she thought to herself, glad to think of the army that Gregor was raising at that very minute to help them. She thought of her own mother and father, doubtless under siege and suffering. She wondered with a wry smile how her sister could make it without her bonbons. Hopefully she hadn’t run out yet. She wasn’t one to ration.

Then the castle disappeared behind them, and the forest continued, even deeper and darker on the southern side than on the northern side, where Terry had begun her adventures. They flew over what seemed an impenetrable canopy of twisted branches drooping and heavy with green, then inexorably, the trees began to change into the eucalyptus forest that bordered the ocean. It was not far now.

And suddenly there it was. Bordering the great southern ocean, the towering castle made of sand, where Zyzzyva was making his stand.

“We’ve come for you, Zyzzyva,” Terry cried. “Let the battle begin!”