Arabelle lifted one slender-fingered hand, and a thin, metallic wand flew through the air to land safely in the palm of her hand.

“My platinum wand,” she said, smiling. “How I’ve missed you!” She took a few trial waves with it, and sparks flew in the air. Immediately, the cave smelled like electricity.

“I can turn a field of sunflowers into an army with this,” she said. “They won’t last for longer than a day, but you’d be surprised how hard they can fight, for one afternoon.”

“That’s wonderful!” said Terry. Her chain mail shirt was hitting her at the midriff.

“Oh! Look at you! You need new armor,” she said. “The wraithlord perched on all sorts of armor—he really was as greedy as a dragon,” Arabelle said. “Let’s look through his treasures.”

They dug through the wraithlord’s horde and found new platinum armor for Terry and Gregor.

“Will you keep the rapier for your mission?” Arabelle asked.

“I don’t think so,” Terry responded. “I think I need something more powerful.” She chose a light saber.

“But those weapons were blessed by the clerics,” Maurice said.

“I’ll bless them,” Arabelle said. “Don’t worry.”

Once outfitted, Arabelle looked at them and clapped her hands. “You look amazing,” she said. “True warriors, of the highest caliber. Now, I must show you the most important addition to your fighting equipment—the reason I think you were called to come and find me. Come on,” she said, and gestured them to a small room at the side of the cliff.

“Here is our secret weapon,” she said.

“It was a golden chariot, a war chariot, but with room in the carriage for four instead of two. It had no horses, so the yoke was down on the ground. But one could see how it glittered, and it had an energy that could be felt.

“This is a war chariot,” Arabelle said. “A flying chariot.”

“Flying?” Terry said. “How does it fly?”

“Well, first I have to conjure the flying horses,” and she waved her platinum wand. Immediately two large, imposing horses appeared yoked to the chariot. One was all black, the other all white. Both snorted and breathed fire.

“Are these like the hell horses we saw the undead army riding?” Maurice said.

“No,” Arabelle said. “They are celestial beings—but they are mighty and powerful, and thus dangerous.

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“It reminds me of the old story of Phaeton,” Terry said.

“Who’s that?” Gregor asked.

“Someone who could not control the horses on his flying chariot,” Arabelle said, “so let that be a lesson to you.”

“Yeah, you can drive,” Gregor said.

“I’m the only one who can drive,” Arabelle responded. “I’m the only one who can control them.”

The horses stamped and pawed the cave floor menacingly.

“Well, then, shall we go?” Arabelle asked.

“Go where?” Terry said.

“Why, to the northern capital,” Arabelle responded. “If what you’ve told me is accurate, they’re overrun by an army of the undead, as well as the flying wraiths. We shall swoop in with our chariot and show them what we’ve got. Really, I don’t mean to hurry you, but I’ve been stuck here a long time.”

Terry, Gregor, and Maurice looked at each other—still trying to get used to their new appearances. “God, you’re a beast now,” Maurice said to Gregor. “Not that you weren’t before.”

“I know,” Gregor said. “I love it. Let’s goooo!” he said, and jumped into the back of the carriage. Maurice joined him, while Terry stood next to Arabelle in the front. Arabelle held the reins lightly in her hand. “Aethon! Pyrois! Let us ride!”

The chariot rumbled out of the cave and headed straight for the sunlight. The ledge was near.

“I sure hope this is a flying chariot,” Maurice said. “Or we’re going to crash into the valley below for sure.”

“How—uh—high do you think we’re going to be flying?” Gregor said.

At that moment, the chariot hurtled itself off the final ledge at the entrance to the cave. There was one sickening stomach drop, then the chariot began to rise and rise.

“Oh my god I hate heights so much!” Gregor cried out, as the chariot cruised to an altitude even higher than the eagles took him. “Can we just not have heights for one blasted day!”

“Aw, Gregor, look at the view!” Terry said, glancing behind towards him.

“No,” Gregor replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine when we get there.” His massive hands gripped the chariot sides and he stood stone-faced as the vehicle soared through the clouds.

“Ah,” Arabelle said, breathing deep. “This is true joy. I haven’t driven this chariot in 100 years.”

“You’re doing great,” Terry said, looking all around her. They had already well exited the mountains and she could see the plains below. “Look! There’s the giant’s castle—I think. I can see where the forest starts again!”

But too soon, the excitement and thrill of the ride was overtaken with clearer and clearer images of the scars of war. Smoke rose up occasionally, and the ground was marked with the destruction of battle that could even be seen from their high altitude. The mood of the four, so previously elevated, began to become more somber.

“It looks pretty bad,” Maurice said. “I wonder if any of the abbeys have survived.”

“And the villages,” Terry said. “They have so few defenses.”

“They have us,” Arabelle said. “We’ll be at the northern capital in a few minutes.”

The flying horses breathed their celestial fire and moved through the air with supernatural grace, and soon the northern capital was in sight. They could hardly recognize it—it looked like a ruin. Smoke poured from fires all across the city, and the mighty tower where Gregor had so recently been held was now rubble. The castle still stood, and to Maurice’s relief, the abbey still stood, but much of the town was decimated.

They circled in the air, coming slightly closer to the ground to observe.

“Do you see any undead soldiers? Any flying wraiths?”

“No,” Terry said, and all of them agreed.

“There has to be someone holding the castle for the wizard—for Zyzzyva,” Maurice said. “They wouldn’t just destroy it and move on, would they?”

“They might if they thought there was no chance of a resistance,” Terry said, “but even then there’d be at least a battalion or something. I don’t know. I mean, it’s a wizard, not a general. How does he hold a city?”

“Through magic,” Arabelle said. “Look!”

And Terry saw a phalanx of flying wraiths headed straight towards them.