Arabelle banked hard, and the chariot circled to face the flying wraiths, as they headed towards them, flying through the air side by side. Maurice started muttering, creating an orb around them.

“You don’t have to do that,” Arabelle shouted. “The chariot is well protected.”

Maurice stopped.

“Throw the golden ball, Terry!” Arabelle said, and Terry stood up and threw it in an arc around the chariot. It glittered in the sun as it arced around the chariot, destroying every flying wraith that approached them in a wide radius, then returning to Terry’s upturned hand.

The wraiths were smart, though, and they changed their strategy once they saw how Terry’s ball could mow them down. Another phalanx broke out of the swarm, and attacked from all sides—below, above, and on the sides—closing in on them like a giant maw. Terry’s ball created a line of destruction, but the rest of the wraiths were undeterred, and they flew straight at the chariot. The horses reared and kicked at the air while the wraiths menaced them—they couldn’t seem to touch the chariot or attack, but their filthy, ethereal wings could flap all around them.

With a sudden moan, Gregor slumped, and Maurice put an arm around him.

“The wraith’s kiss!” he said! “We’re not protected!”

“But they can’t touch the chariot!” Arabelle said.

“It’s not enough!” Maurice said, and began his muttering. A golden globe began to glow about them, and the wraiths flew off. Still muttering, Maurice pressed a potion to Gregor’s lips, and his chalky face regained some color.

“Thanks, friend,” he said, and stood up straight.

“Don’t you have some attack magic?” Terry demanded of Arabelle, as she skillfully drove the flying chariot.

“I can’t do attack magic while I guide the horses,” Arabelle said.

“Then give the reins to me!” Terry demanded.

“You can’t control these horses!” Arabelle protested.

“We can’t fight off these wraiths forever—” Terry said. “We have to land!”

It was clear now how Zyzzyva was controlling the northern city—the flying wraiths were keeping the place in check.

“I can land,” Arabelle said, and before Terry could respond, she began to direct the chariot towards the center of the city.

“We’re not landing under attack,” Terry said. “We have to finish this battle.”

And in a moment of force, she wrested the reins from a surprised Arabelle.

“Hey!” Arabelle saidl

“Kill the wraiths!” Terry shouted. “Now! I’ll hold them as long as I can!”

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The supernatural beasts immediately knew that Arabelle was not holding the reins. She could feel them straining against her—the reins were taut as a guitar string in her hand, already beginning to cut into the flesh of her palms.

Arabelle shot her a look, then whipped her platinum wand out of her sleeve and thrust it straight in the air. In a clear, bell-like voice that could be heard for miles, she pronounced a brief incantation in the old language, its unfamiliar syllables resounding and echoing. It was beautiful and terrible at the same time.

After she spoke, there was the briefest pause, as if the sky were holding its breath. Then a massive sound wave clapped through the sky—

BOOM!

The chariot shook with the impact, and on the ground, the tallest turret of the castle, already damaged, crumbled away like dust, leaving a jagged outline in the distance.

The flying wraiths had disappeared, but in the massive soundclap, the reins had slid through Terry’s hands, and the horses were flying madly, the reins flapping uselessly along their backs.

“They’re taking us straight into the sun!” Maurice said.

“Use your wand to get the reins back!” Terry said.

“I can’t use magic on these horses! They belong to Apollo! That’s why I needed to keep the reins!” Arabelle said.

Terry turned to her in a fury. “Shut. Up. Maurice, you’re the lightest. Get the reins. I’ll hang on to your legs.”

The horses climbed at a maddening pace, straight into the sun, whose radiance was increasing with each second. The air felt thin and it was already become difficult to breathe. Without a word, Maurice climbed into the front seat of the chariot, and thrust the top half of his body over the horses, where the reins whipped around, over the bodies of the charging animals.

“I’ve got you,” Terry said, holding on first to his waist, then his knees as he dodged the great beasts and tried desperately to grab at the reins. As he fought to snatch them up, Terry’s grip slipped to his ankles.

“You’ve got this Maurice!” Gregor shouted.

Finally, with one last twist of his gaunt body, he grasped them in his hands, and Terry pulled him back into the chariot. He handed them to Terry.

“No,” Terry said. “Arabelle drives.”

Without a word, Arabelle reined in the horses as they gasped for air—the sky around them an odd deepening twilight instead of bright blue. They turned around, rearing and snorting fire, but turning readily enough. Arabelle flew them skillfully down, and there was the city again, unfolding before them in greater and greater detail.

“Take us down in front of the castle,” Terry said. “But don’t do it away. Fly around in a spiral, lower and lower, so that everyone can see us as we land.”

Arabelle responded without a word, her face set. But Terry didn’t care. She stood up straight into her new height, grasping the railing of the chariot and putting on a mighty, regal stare. Maurice and Gregor followed suit, and even Arabelle flashed the reins a little. They flew in on a long approach. Terry saw one lone figure lift his tiny arm and point, then another, then another.

“One more time around,” she said, and Arabelle complied. Soon, a crowd was gathering and as they circled lower and lower, she could hear a rumbling, then a roar. The crowd began to cheer them as they descended.

“Take it to the castle grounds, now,” Terry said, and when it became clear where they were headed, the crowd ran after them, shouting and cheering. The chariot landed on the grounds in front of the castle moat, overlooking the same courtyard where Gregor had almost been hanged—the gallows was a pile of wood now, destroyed in the flying wraith’s attack. The people gathered in the courtyard and cheered, until Terry lifted her saber for silence. They quieted immediately.

“I am Warrior Princess Teresa,” she intoned, feeling almost possessed by this new persona that she instinctively knew that she must adopt. “I have liberated you from the wizard! Rejoice!”

And the people erupted again in cheers.

“We all liberated them,” Arabelle said quietly.

“The people need a leader,” Teresa responded. “Come on, let’s get this into the castle where it will be safe. We’ll just fly around to the back, give them one more show.”

Arabelle shook the reins, and chariot took off again, paused, then dipped behind the castle while the people cheered and some began to chase it. Terry, Maurice, and Gregor got out, but Arabelle stayed put behind the reins.

“I don’t think I want this adventure,” she said, and took off into the sky.