“I’ll do it,” Terry said grimly. “Come on!”

“Take these,” Gregor said, handing her a heavy pair of leather gloves. Terry drew them on gratefully.

The four of them clambered aboard the chariot, Gregor and Maurice in the back, and Terry and Arabelle in the front.

“We’re going to need you, Arabelle,” Terry said, as she shook the reins her new gloves, preparing..

“Can you do the sound clap again?”

“It won’t be as strong,” she confessed, “but I can do it.”

“I thought so,” Terry said, and caught her eye.

The chariot rose in the twilight sky, and Maurice began his utterance to provide the extra safety of the golden orb. The horses champed and tossed their heads as they tread the air, and the flying chariot drew near the horrid flock of flying wraiths. To their relief, the team saw that the flock was about a quarter the strength of the original group—it seemed Zyzzyva was not yet aware that his entire flying wraith division had been destroyed, and had just sent his usual reinforcements.

Arabelle produced her wand, and created the same effect again, only with noticeably less strength. Still, given the lesser numbers, it was enough, and the wraiths disappeared into the void. The city would have a peaceful night, after all.

Terry’s arms and shoulders ached as she guided the horses back to the castle, just as complete darkness finally fell on the city. As they landed, all four of them paused before leaving the chariot. Terry passed the reins to Arabelle, and they all looked at each other in a solemn, joyous moment.

“We’re going to win this war,” Terry said. “We’re going to win.”

They climbed out, and Arabelle sent the horses to their celestial home. Terry threw her arm around the royal magician. “Come and meet my auntie,” she said.

“Do you—think there might be a tavern open tonight?” Gregor asked Maurice.

“If anyone down here saw us destroy those flying wraiths, then you can be sure of it,” Maurice grinned.

“Go get Hemdale,” Terry said. “And tell him to bring someone to take care of the old duchess. Then, we’ve got a battle to plan.”

“Of course,” Maurice said. “Let’s go, Gregor. We’ll take the long way,” he added in a whisper.

“I heard that!” Terry said, but she smiled. “I’ll go find something good for us to drink in the royal cellars,” she said, “In case we get thirsty.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The two men rushed off to get Hemdale, and Terry brought Arabelle upstairs to meet the old duchess. She was asleep, but when Terry lit an oil lamp, her eyes flickered open in the soft light.

“Auntie, this is Arabelle. She’s a royal magician who has been trapped in the northern mountains.”

The old duchess looked astonished, and she placed a hand upon her chest. “Are you—the Arabelle?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” the royal magician answered, and sat gently on the side of her bed. “Your warrior princess has rescued me, and I’ve come to help them save the kingdom from Zyzzyva.”

“Oh! Dear!” the old lady said, and grasped Arabelle’s hand with her own soft, frail hand. “We’ve waited and waited!”

“I was the royal magician to your grandmother,” Arabelle said, smiling.

“She told me so many tales,” the old duchess replied. “Will you tell me about her?”

“Of course!”

Terry tiptoed out of the room while Arabelle comforted the old duchess with tales of her grandmother in her youth—stories that to the old woman were both familiar and new. Terry descended staircase after staircase until she came to the vast wine cellar, then picked up an armful of dusty bottles, uncaring of the label. By the time she emerged from the cellars, Gregor and Maurice had returned with Hemdale and an armful of books and papers.

They adjourned to the great dining hall and took over one corner of the banquet table, lighting candles. As they prepared the space for great study, Arabelle came down.

“She’s asleep again,” Arabelle said. “What a charmer.”

“Far sweeter than her husband, I assure you,” Hemdale said. “Er—it’s nice to meet you—Arabelle?”

“Yes,” she said. “And you are Hemdale, chief of the clerics. I hope you will not hold my position as a royal magician against me. I promise not to conjure anything while we plan.”

Hemdale looked uncomfortable. “In war, we are allies,” he said. “We both serve the king.”

“And we need each other,” Maurice said. “You should try some conjuring, Hemdale,” he added. “It’s quite fun.”

“No teasing,” Terry said. “We have to think. Here’s my idea. We fly to my father’s castle and lead the army he has already raised to the south, and engage Zyzzyva there.”

“Doesn’t your father’s army already have a leader?” Hemdale said. “Maybe they won’t be happy to just shove over when you show up.”

“There’s no one else who can lead an army right now!” Terry said. “I’m the warrior princess!”

“Tested in battle, to be sure,” Maurice said. “But not tested in politics.”

“Maurice is right,” Hemdale said. “I think you should go on the attack directly—head straight to Zyzzyva’s sand castle and give it all you’ve got.”

“The four of us can’t stop that army, no matter how powerful we are,” Terry said.

“You don’t need to stop the army. You need to kill the wizard,” Hemdale said.

“Who is surrounded by an army,” Terry replied.

“He knows that I’m free, too,” Arabelle said. “We’ve lost some of the element of surprise.”

Her words hung in the air as they absorbed the truth of what she said.

“Dammit,” Terry said. “We’ll be lucky to hold this city, let alone go on the attack.”

As she spoke, there was a terrible, thundering sound.

“Something’s attacking the city walls,” Hemdale said.

The four of them rushed out of the castle and into the street. They could hear shouting and more thundering crashes as they ran towards the city walls. The main gates had been ripped open by the army of the undead and the remnants hung from giant hinges. Off in the distance, they could see flashes of fire, and then the boom of a cannon.

“It’s some contingent from the wizard’s army,” Hemdale said. “Human traitors, I’m sorry to say. They’re bombing the city walls.”

“Well, let’s go get them!” Terry said.

But as she said it, the shadow of a grotesque human-like beast could be seen approaching the city gates. The ogre howled with rage, intent on their destruction, as cannon fire boomed around them.