Читать книгу Arrabella Candellarbra - A.K. Wrox - Страница 10

The heralds played their harlot-horns, signifying that the tournamenty-thing was soon to commence. Of what that would entail exactly, not one person present had a clue.

Arrabella Candellarbra hid her trusty wand down the bodice of her favourite blue gown and stepped into line with the other Tri-Tower Tournament competitors. She gazed at her feet, hoping to appear as demure and unthreatening as possible. She was counting on the fact none of them would know or recognise her as an apprentice of the famous Reginas. Arrabella was sure the element of surprise would be her best weapon today. Well, that and the magic she was able to wield from her winged willow wand; a wand that called itself Inuuku.

She listened to the murmurings around her, fighting the urge to look up. A deep guttural voice, with a strange Latin accent, asked when the Towers would rise from the depths of Lake Loch. Another, smaller, squeaky voice said, with a pompous scoff, 'The Towers always rise with the moons. See?'

This time Arrabella did look up. It was true: the triple moons were rising, closer and closer to the eclipse, during which they would become one. This universal force only happened once in a… well, no-one really knew. The last time the moons joined in an eclipse, forcing the Towers to rise from the depths of the Lake, there had been chaos and tragedy. Way back then - whenever it was - and just like today, competitors gathered from every land, near and far for the tournament to end all tournaments. On that other day, the Powers That Be had deemed none worthy to be Champion; and all pretenders were slaughtered on the spot before a single task could be completed.

Despite this urban-mythical kind of legend, the competitors had gathered again, because even the slimmest of slim chances of becoming The One was better than being, you know, ordinary.

For the Chosen One in every generation or so, could harness the powers of Mother Nature and Father Time and Aunt In-Between. So the threat of a mere mass-slaying was neither here nor there; or anywhere else.

So that was why Arrabella Candellarbra - demure and beautiful, in her favourite cornflower-blue dress, her golden tresses flowing elegantly over her shoulders, with a cunning and wary glint in her eyes that only a true warrior-chick could possess - came to be standing where she was. Waiting with everyone else.

Not an eyelid did she bat as she scanned the assembled crowd, unsurprised to find herself surrounded by the most powerful of sorcerers, the most beguiling of witches and wizards, the most cunning of the Fey, and the most snotty and drooliest of giants.

Arrabella, under the watchful eyes of the most revered of warriors, The Reginas, had studied all the creatures present, and then some; and could identify those who would be forerunners in the quest to win the Tri-Towers tournament.

To her right, Arrabella noted, stood Sally-Ann Davis, the fearsome sorceress of the Scooby Mountains. Known to be cruel, uncompassionate and an utter meanie, rumour also had it that she devoured entire regiments of battle-weary soldiers for nothing more than daring to pass through her mountains without paying the required taxes of myrrh and sage and buddha-breath parcels.

Beside Sally-Ann stood an ancient-looking man whose face was covered with a bearded mass of icicles and stalactites, as stiff with age as he. But Arrabella wasn't fooled. She eyed him with some nerve, knowing him to be Gary, the Great Wizard of Frangle Rocks. He may appear hunched and crippled and probably incontinent, but he was far from it. Gary, she knew, would be a worthy adversary. Not only was he the wisest of all the wise wizards, but he could take out an enemy with the slightest flick of his Llama-Bone wand.

Arrabella noticed that the wise Gary was paying no heed to Sally-Ann, despite her reputation for fearsomeness. No, his attention was firmly fixed elsewhere, on another woman altogether.

Arrabella frowned. Gary was staring at a crone with skin as sallow as baby bat's vomit and wrinkled like an elephant's butt; with charcoal hair that hung lank and loose down her back like an old fringed lampshade.

Arrabella knew who this was too, and why Gary was watching her; he really was very wise.

For she was none-other than Betty-Sue, the evilest of all the crones, and the most powerful being this side of the blackened crumpet.

It occurred to Arrabella in that moment that everybody assembled here would gratefully lose the tournament to her, as long as they could be assured that Betty-Sue would not, now or ever, be victorious.

For if the evil crone obtained the powers of the Tri-Towers, she would use them to destroy all who had ever crossed her, or crossed her path, or crossed the street in front of her path. Betty-Sue was a nasty piece of work, that was for sure; with an army of minions that came in all shapes, sizes and genus to do her dirty work for her. Not that her army was present at the Tournament; minions were outlawed at such things.

As far as anyone knew, Betty-Sue only had one fear; but that one was pretty difficult to capitalise on as falling houses were hard to conjure on cue.

Arrabella glanced further along the line, determined not to give the evil hag a second's more thought than she deserved. Next along the line was the dwarf king, Gigantor; then the pistachio-clad Prince of the Fairies, Jim; next was Marvin the Minotaur; then, then… then there was...wow!

Oh my, Arrabella swooned; but only on the inside.

Arrabella's training in all things warrior had prepared her for every danger she might face; but not at all for this moment.

Standing there was the most beautiful creature she'd ever laid eyes on; a perfect specimen of manliness.

How, why, did she not know who he was? She was certain that if the Reginas had pointed him out in their Book of all Beings that she would've remembered.

His face was cast in porcelain, all chiselled jaw-line and prominent cheek bones. His blue-black hair glistened in the light of the rising moons, casting shadows that set off his perfectly-sculptured muscles. And his eyes! Two languid pools of iridescent peacock blue that twinkled with amusement or kindness or just twinkly goodness.

Arrabella could barely tear her own eyes away from his perfect body, nearly naked but for a scanty piece of cloth covering his most-special parts - parts of which Arrabella had only heard tell.

She quivered, a strange sensation for the maiden, for she was certain that she had never quivered before. Almost involuntarily, Arrabella inched towards the stranger; her body seeming to move without her consent.

And then he looked at her.

He looked at Arrabella and his mouth dropped open a little, and those peacock eyes bore into her, and over her and through her; searching her body and soul, but mostly her body, like a monkey searches for ticks.

Whoever he was, he edged closer to Arrabella; as she edged closer to him, closing her eyes to commit the dazzling display to the bottomless-deep of her mind. She knew with her very heart and soul, and the tender fleshy bits that the Regina's said she shouldn't touch, that she had to be close to him.

Still with closed eyes, she felt her flesh meet flesh, her body meeting a bigger, harder body than her own.

'You stare at me, stranger. Who are you?' she asked.

The lispy, drawly voice that replied so shocked Arrabella, that her eyes opened wide.

'Lady, I'm Lance,' said, not the chiselled-hunk of man meat she'd been edging toward, but a rather large, rather slimy, rather gross Ogre. He winked. 'Lance Boyle. You wanna go tag team?'

'Ugh, no!' Arrabella muttered, gasping for fresh air amid the rancid stench of his breath.

'I do believe, Lady, that it is I you seek,' said the actual handsome stranger. He kindly dispatched the ogre to the edge of Lake Loch, with one well-timed elbow; and followed up with an olde-worlde bow. The rich, velvety tones of his voice caressed Arrabella's ears like sea foam gliding against the entrails of a gutted fish on the shore.

Once more, she felt herself swoon to this stranger's power. She even closed her eyes, quite ready for the kiss she felt sure he was about to plant on her rosebud lips.

Instead, the handsome stranger ever-so-gently took her hand in his and whispered as the breeze whispers through the Legume leaves, 'I am Lord Langley Kilkenny, and it is an honour to make your acquaintance, Arrabella.'

Arrabella's head jerked back as swiftly as the Googlemeister bird flies. Instinctively, and also very quickly, her hand reached for the Inuuku wand hidden safely between her bosoms. In a flash she had raised it to his strong, yet entirely strokable throat.

'Lord Langley Kilkenny, I demand you tell me who you spy for! How do you know my identity?'

Shocked, yet equally amused, the Lord's mouth twitched in one corner as though he stifled a laugh. 'Why, Lady Arrabella, I do not spy for any foe. I spy often for my own amusement; and in this case for the gratuitous enjoyment of your lovely - err - gown. I had already guessed your identity from the sign-in forms at the Competitor's Registration Desk. I should also perhaps remind you of the name tag you wear above your well-formed bosom.'

Arrabella flushed as the blood stormed from her heart to colour her cheeks. She felt ablaze with a heat she was not entirely comfortable with. Was she angry or just mortified at her own stupidness?

Or was it something else entirely?

Perhaps it was the handsome Lord himself that made her squirm with a fire in her belly that she'd never before encountered. The Reginas had done fine work in raising her to be a warrior, but they dismissed all talk of love as fairytales, and lust as impractical.

Was Lord Langley working a fancy mojo on her; a spell to make her legs turn to meatloaf jelly? If so, to what end?

Whatever the reason for her reaction, Arrabella searched wildly for focus. This day was not about manly perfection or velvety tones or scanty loincloths - oh, it really was scanty - it was about the Tri-Tower Tournament, and becoming the Champion of Champions.

Arrabella tore her gaze from those peacock-blue eyes, and turned to the darkening sky.

The moons were almost in alignment, and the Towers would soon begin to rise from the depths of the lake. The mood of the spectators and competitors alike was changing. The air was thick with tension and expectation and strange nervous smells. Would the Powers That Be find the competitors worthy to compete in the mysterious tasks? Or would they all be slaughtered, deemed unfit to even compete?

Quarrels began to break out within the crowd as nerves competed with greed. Two Liddleprik Giants from opposing gangs managed to knock each other out, with well-aimed boulders to the head. And a meditating Emo Elf's om-shaka-shaka was rudely interrupted when a nervous Fargingo Fairy spewed vile black vomit into his lap.

As the previously-quiet and reverent folk in the crowd also began to murmur louder, and louder, more petty quarrels erupted, taking out many competitors before the tournament could even begin.

Arrabella kept her cool, wondering if the power of the Towers was already at work, weeding out those unworthy, and therefore unnecessary; or whether a goodly percentage of the competitors were just fools.

'We should stick together, my Lady.' Lord Langley's dulcet tones once again interrupted Arrabella's concentration. 'We surely stand a better chance of coming out of this victorious, or at least alive, if we look out for one another.'

Arrabella's heart fluttered in her chest and warmth once again spread throughout her body, all the way to her special places. The prospect of spending time with this perfect specimen of manly maleness was certainly appealing. But her brain argued with her heart, and her other bits, and a stern voice inside warned it would be unwise to tie herself to anybody now; particularly someone she knew nothing about, no matter how darn good he looked.

'Why?' she began the questions. 'Why do you want to win this tournament? Why are you here? Why is the power so important to you? Why would you be willing to share it with another?'

The Lord's face creased with something which seemed to be a mix of concentration and pain. 'I must avenge my father. Only the powers of the earth and the underworld and all that is in-between will allow me to do that. I will return my father to his life and I will find the one who ended it in the first place. Somewhere in all the lands is a seven fingered man. When I find him, I will walk straight up to him and say: "You killed my Daddy. Get ready to die." Only then will my life be worth living again.'

Arrabella was speechless. She had not expected so noble a reason for his desire to win. She certainly wasn't expecting a motive so similar to her own. She made a decision then and there, and clasped his surprising oily hand in her own.

'You are right, my Lord. We shall win this together.'

Suddenly all around her fell silent. The battling and quarrelling stopped in mid-swing and shout as a bigger, louder angrier noise competed for attention. An angry roiling, swooshing sound came from Lake Loch, as it began to froth and whir and spin like a toadskin tunic in a wash cycle.

'My lady, the moons,' whispered Langley to Arrabella, his warm lips dusting her earlobe faintly. 'The eclipse is nearly upon us.'

Arrabella clung tight to the hand that held her own, amazed by the spectacle of the moons uniting and by the frothing lake as it prepared to expel the Tri-Towers from its depths.

Arrabella wondered - and she had time as the Towers were certainly taking theirs - what the Reginas would think if they saw her now? Would they be proud that she waited so bravely on the shores of Lake Loch? Would they be impressed that she'd found so worthy a companion to help her meet the destiny for which she'd been primed her whole life?

Even with Langley's strong hand moisturising hers with a thin layer of oil, Arrabella suddenly felt alone and confused and just plain scared.

What if the Reginas had been wrong? What if she wasn't really The One? After all, it could just be fairy-tale wishful thinking on their part. Just because they'd taken her in as a mere spriteling - a half-fey, half-gypsy-human left alone in the world after the evil little pixies had made off with her parents - didn't have to mean she had a 'destiny'.

And yet the Reginas had always been convinced of her calling. They were sure that with their training, the kind only a Regina could give in all kinds of everything, that the wee scrap of a child with eyes that flashed vermillion would indeed be the next Champion.

Arrabella sighed. But maybe it wasn't enough. What if she let them down?

And surely, if they were certain, where were they? At least one of them should be here to witness her moment of triumph. But where were they? Arrabella had scanned the crowd countless times and their tell-tale hoop skirts and stylish yet sensible shoes were nowhere to be seen.

Arrabella chanced another look, tearing her eyes from the closing moons and shifting uncomfortably with the sudden dewiness beneath her dress. She found that four eyes were upon her, rather than the spectacle before them. There were two creatures staring at her - and neither of them Reginas.

The hate-filled eyes of the hag Betty-Sue drilled into her with an intensity that almost matched the hardness that pressed into her back from the man who gripped her tight.

The other eyes, a pair of startling green ones, were deep set in the face of the Fairy Prince. Arrabella raised an eyebrow at him. When this elicited no response, she realised Prince Jim wasn't staring at her; he was gazing at Langley, and his green tunic, interwoven with emeralds and jade and pupa-pod-peas was jiggling with his excited little dance. Arrabella eyed him curiously, wanting to call out to him and ask him why he stared so but…

There was a shriek, then a scream, then a scrambled scurrilous squawk as the Towers finally did their thing.

Like an alien water birth the triple peaks of the Tri-Towers burst forth from the confines of Lake Loch. The waters churned around the turrets like a twisting torrential tornado, running in rushing rivulets off the crystalline Towers that shimmied like they were created from the water itself. The illusion of a watery facade morphed into solidness as the Towers became harder and more erect - three shimmering phalluses, standing tall and proud, as they pierced the darkened sky and plunged out its inky far-reaches.

Though they stood on the dark side moons, now fully eclipsed, Arrabella and Langley and the other competitors were illuminated by the radiant beams of light that shone from the Towers themselves. Then a great spotlight spotted the opposite bank, drawing everyone's attention to the rainbow of unicorns now prancing and playing like psychedelic go-go dancers. Their golden horns flashed in the rare crystal light as these purest of the forever-magical creatures reclaimed their meadow for a night.

The crowd watched in wondrous delight. Arrabella even felt Langley's excitement as he pressed against her, his own horn threatening to flash in the spotlight. Just as Arrabella was wondering how in the name of chuppachups, to best respond to his horn's insistent throb, a shocked and terrified gasp spread across the crowd.

A brilliant bolt of amber lightning exploded from the spire of the central tower. It honed in, like a target-tracking-tortoise, on a goblin who'd been busy taking bets from the spectators. It struck him just as he snaffled a bag of germy-gems from a greedy-eyed grommet. A crust of granite descended across his form, transforming first his outstretched hands, then his pointed toes and finally his frightened face, into stone.

Pandemonium erupted. Mayhem spread in every direction. Bedlam and a hubbub raced through the ungathering throng. Fluttering folk of the Fortune Fey family flittered into the air; and grovelling Groundhog Goblins groped through the grass. The ground trembled as five gattling giants collided in their efforts to escape, trampling a clan of Stickfiggers beneath their feet as they ran away like children from pupapriests. Mermaids slipped back into the relative safety of Lake Loch; nymphs of all denominations became as one with the lush, green surrounds; and a phoenix combusted spontaneously into a flaming display, leaving naught but ash mounds in its place.

Lord Langley clutched Arrabella protectively to his well-oiled but pleasantly smooth chest. She knew this made her look like a helpless damsel in distress, but this worked perfectly with her plan to outsmart the other competitors. As long as they thought she posed no threat to them - she held the upper hand. And besides, who wouldn't want to be clutched to the body of a practically naked, perfect specimen of manliness.

Arrabella had plenty of time to think about all this while she waited for what was left of the crowd to collect itself into a mood other than that of outright panic. Only the brave, the desperate or the innately stupid had held their ground. None of the wizards or witches or true warriors had taken flight, but the numbers of other creatures was greatly reduced. There were now only a handful of souls on the shore of Lake Loch.

Suddenly a vast golden-gated bridge, adorned with pearls, exploded from the tip of the Tri-Towers sparkling centre-phallic-symbol, like an enormous erupting sebaceous cyst. Up-up towards the moons it reached; then over it arched, across the lake and towards the spectators; then down, down to the shoreline below.

With its beginning still attached to the central Tri-Tower, the other end of the golden bridge landed squarely at the feet of Arrabella Candellarbra and Lord Langley Kilkenny.

Arrabella gasped inwardly, but lifted her chin high. Lord Langley Kilkenny held her so tight she wasn't sure if he was protecting her or she was protecting him, or they were both protecting the protrusion under his flimsy loin cloth.

Hand in hand, they timidly reached for the shimmering gates that impeded entry to the bridge. Arrabella was mesmerised by their incredible beauty and detail. Filigree carvings adorned every surface that was not encrusted with the frolicking brilliance of diamonds, emeralds and rubies, all larger than Lord Langley's manly fist. Pearls, both pallid as the driven snow and black as the moonless night, dripped in clumps like bundles of illuminated grapes from the gate's highest points.

'My Lord,' Arrabella whispered, not yet turning to face his excitement. 'Look, a lock.'

Indeed, in the very centre of the gilded, golden and very pearly gates was an enormous padlock that held no key.

'What are we to do Lord Langley?'

Langley's perfectly smooth brow creased as he concentrated on the gate with the keyless lock. 'Indeed it is a lock,' he agreed. 'A Lake Loch lock, in fact, to which I may have a solution.' He reached beneath his loin cloth and withdrew a small book.

After Arrabella was quite done with gaping at her Lord's amazing hidey-place, she glanced at the cover of the book. 'Lock Picking for DumDums? Really?'

'I hardly think that will be necessary,' the voice of Gary, the wisest of wizards, boomed beside them. 'I think…' Before Gary could impress them with his thought, the still-stunned silence of the crowd was shattered by an ear-splitting shriek that seemed to bounce from tree to tree, rebound off the lake and enter every mind assembled there. The sound was rising in pitch. Only another half an octave and Arrabella was certain that the crystalline Towers themselves would shatter into a million pieces, like a bag of marbles left overnight to breed.

Arrabella swung around to face the source of this banshee wail, this time shoving the handsome Lord behind her. She claimed Inuuku from her bosom and aimed the wand in the direction of the screaming. The physical and magical warrior training given her by the Reginas clicked into gear, came to the fore and stood up to be counted; her body and mind locked and loaded, Arrabella was running on instinct now, rather than any true thought.

What's more, the placid apple-green eyes with which the maiden had, only seconds before, cast longingly over her muscular hero, now flashed the fiery crimson, the simmering scarlet, the undeniable ruby-red that belonged only to those born of Gypsy blood.

Arrabella launched herself at the screeching creature; realising only in mid-flip that the spiteful caterwauling was coming from the infamous Betty-Sue.

Arrabella flipped and span, back-flipped, whipped and skipped, heaved, hopped and looped; all the while reciting incantations in a tongue unknown to all who heard it.

Taken by surprise - and without minion-backup - Betty-Sue was no match for the nimble, lithe and rather leggy Arrabella. The crone clutched at her stricken throat, gagging and retching and trying with all of her might to emit the banshee squeal that could end them all. But nothing came.

The only sound now was the ululating melody rising from Arrabella herself; and a certain amount of heavy breathing from the rather turned-on Lord Langley.

Arrabella wasn't finished. She continued her incantations, her Inuuku wand a burning mass of power in her hands.

Glowing ropes of aquamarine and indigo fire wove their way from the end of her wand - which had biquadrupled in size - binding themselves around the now-silent Betty-Sue; immobilising her like a badly-sprained pinkie finger. The evil woman glared mutely at her new adversary, her coal black eyes emitting a cruel and palpable hatred, tinged with the desire for pure, cold and calculated revenge.

The hushed crowd looked on in awe at the great new power that stood before them. Arrabella Candellarbra was a sight to behold.

And then, quite suddenly again, Arrabella was bathed in a glorious light, radiating at first from within her and then extending toward the gilded-golden gate, joining them as one.

To the further amazement of everybody (many of whom would later, much-much later tell their grandchildren of this moment) when Arrabella linked her fingers through those of Lord Langley, he too became shrouded in the light and connected to the gate.

Contrary to most appearances, many of the creatures in the crowd liked things warm and fuzzy; and right now, good or bad, they all understood that this radiating light business could only mean goodliness was upon them; and Champion-like goodliness at that.

As midnight blue and tangerine sparks flew in all directions from anywhere the Warrior Chick and her luscious Lord made contact, it was clear to all that Arrabella and Langley were both, in fact, the Chosen Ones.

Several of the not-so-good in the crowd took to their heels and ran off - some in fear, some in disgust; while others, loyal to Betty-Sue, hung their heads low and shuffled away in embarrassment.

Those who remained fell to their knees in a pledge of allegiance to this rather virile and pretty young couple, who would soon have power over life and death, and all that blossomed in between.

The wizened and hunched Gary the Wise stepped forth, again; with a flourish. He bowed deeply. 'My Lord, My Lady, I hereby pledge my loyalty to you now and forever more. If it pleases you, I ask that you accept my offer of guidance and whatever protection I can afford you.'

Arrabella curtsied in return, showing her respect for the man whose name had been legendary in her teachings. 'Sir, we would be honoured to have you accompany us. Your wisdom would be of the greatest value.'

Arrabella reached out her hand, welcoming Gary the Wise into her little gang. As he stepped toward the luscious twosome, he too became engulfed in the glorious light that obviously signalled their worthiness.

'Ooh, my turn,' said the dandy little Prince of the Fey as he pranced toward them. Barely sharing a glance with Arrabella, his eyes drank in every inch of Lord Langley's substantial and oily frame; lingering longingly on the meagre loin cloth.

'My Lord, I shall willingly follow you to the ends of the universe,' he cooed. 'Is there any way I can be of service to you?'

Arrabella nestled into Langley's bulky yet glorious frame possessively, and stared at the forward little fairy, making it quite clear with her blazing vermillion eyes that her Lord would not be requiring those particular services.

Langley, with a grin spread right across his face - both from the compliment paid by the fairy's attention and the jealousy exhibited by Arrabella - addressed Jim formally. 'Prince Jim, you honour us with your pledge. We would be most grateful.'

Langley nudged Arrabella gently with his elbow and, dutifully, she nodded at the Fey prince.

As Jim jigged into what was now a group, the light swayed and shimmied in celebration and then winked-out as if indicating that Four on an adventure would be enough.

'All hail the Chosen One,' called the booming voice of the only remaining giant.

'All hail the Chosen One - or Four!' agreed all manner of folk from all the present-and-accounted-for magical communities, in a cacophonous chorus of charismatic creatures.

All the creatures except one, that is. One simmering sorceress with a petulant pout and the stomping foot of a tantruming two-year-old tempest.

'Noooooooo!' screamed Sally-Ann as she glared, and glared again, at all the Chosen Ones; her wand-hand at her side, ready to throw an incantation or two their way.

Arrabella knew that no matter how bad or sad, Sally-Ann wasn't completely mad - and, unlike Betty-Sue, wouldn't dare act upon her impulse. So she stretched her hand out towards the witch in a gesture of friendship, of unity, of all-round goody niceness. 'Join us,' she whispered.

'Never!' Sally-Ann screamed. She turned, tripped over a fledgling Frog-fawn, and then flounced wildly, with the creature firmly attached to her ankle, off into the Missingdaisy Forest.

Arrabella shrugged and looked at Langley, Langley looked at Gary, Gary looked at Jim and Jim looked at all of them.

'What do we do now?' the fair maiden asked. 'Lake Loch's lock is still firmly locked and we're still on the wrong side of the gate. We need a key!'

Langley, who'd already dropped the silly lock-picking book and kicked it into the lake, stepped forward and flexed his abs so they rippled and shone in the light. 'I'm sure with my strength a mere padlock should be no problem.'

He readied himself to reach out and snap the keyless impediment from the gate. But the moment his hand made contact with the shiny security device, a giant pink bubble of fairy floss farted from the keyhole, hit Langley in the chest and bounced him backwards onto his lusciously-toned rump.

Gary, his eyes glistening with humour but with the good grace to stifle the laughter that curled his lips, stepped forward. 'If I may,' he addressed Arrabella. 'I tried to tell you before, my lady, that you already have the key.'

Arrabella looked confused and patted down her dress, searching for a hidden pocket where a clever Regina, foretelling events, could have hidden a key without her knowledge. Nope. Nothing but Inuuku, which had retracted to cleavage size again.

'No, no, my dear, you are the key. The lock is an illusion, merely there to stop the unworthy in their tracks. You have the power to open it without incantations or magic or, um, brute force.'

Gary glanced at Langley who had regained his footing but stood rubbing his bruised buttocks.

'Open yourself up, Arrabella,' the wizard explained. 'Open yourself to the power that burns inside of you. Open yourself to your destiny. And open yourself to the man with whom you've decided to share your destiny.'

'Oh yes,' Langley said, leering at Arrabella. 'Open yourself to me.'

Arrabella nodded, recognising the wisdom in Gary's words; and ignoring those of the lovely Langley (though she stored them away for later). She indicated they should hold hands to form a circle, and then closed her eyes.

With all that she had inside her, and all she had outside her, she focused. She focused on her past, her life-training with the Reginas, the loss of her parents, and the life that was meant to be. She focused on her future, and what being the Champion of the Tri-Towers would bring.

Was it power she wanted? Did she want to rule with a tyrant's hand? No, Arrabella knew that wasn't so. Sure, she wanted the powers of the Towers and the flowers, but not at any cost. No, she would bring peace, harmony and love to all the lands. She would bring it with her own hand, and that of her sumptuous Lord Langley.

Arrabella felt the power of goodliness rush through her veins. She felt it throb and surge and rise like the waves of the Testiculard Tide; or was it Langley's loincloth she felt rising again? Either way, it mattered naught. For as she opened her eyes, Arrabella realised the light which had bathed them before was back, and this time it was swirling and shimmering as though the power itself was rejoicing. The colours lifted then, and paled, until the four were bathed in the purest of pure white light.

Arrabella knew what must be done and strode toward the gate. The instant her hand touched the lock, it disintegrated; the gates swung wide and a fanfare of trumpets heralded her victory from the darkened heavens above.

Never in her wildest dreams - nor in any of the lessons the Reginas had given - had she imagined it would be so simple. Had the power really been within her the whole time? Was she already the Chosen One without the need to prove it with days and days of battles, riddles and incantations? Could it really be so easy?

She glanced at her newfound posse for reassurance - each wore a similarly bewildered look; except Gary, of course, whose face betrayed a smugness at being right.

The bridge beckoned to her with its brilliance, though it was almost impossible to look upon it without squinting. Without the golden-gilded gate obscuring the view, Arrabella could see the dazzling glory of a golden cobblestoned path; each stone interspersed with jewels, spliced and trimmed and inlaid in the crevices forming the most intricate of mosaic patterns.

The hand rails, as thick as a giant's wrist, were created of twisted, twined and twirly-toned ropes of yellow, white, rose and white-speckled yellow-rose gold. Each railing was decorated with the clusters of inky black and lily-maid-white pearls that also adorned the gates.

Arrabella gasped at the glittering, dazzling display. She could recall only one other instance in her whole life when she'd seen anything even remotely this sparkly. And she had to concede that even the infamous Colden Family of blood-suckers that inhabited the fork in the Bellaroadway paled into insignificance when compared to this shimmery bridge.

Arrabella felt unworthy to tread on a thing of such beauty. She brushed her hands over her silk dress, willing the creases to disappear. If only she had listened to the Reginas and worn something more practical, rather than her spring festival gown.

Yes indeed, she should have worn her bronze breastplate and bootylicious battle armour; then she would've not only looked like the warrior she was; but one befitting this honour.

Lord Langley sensed her hesitation and spun her to face him with one outstretched arm. He leaned close to Arrabella, his hot breath brushing her face like a fan in the smouldering furnaces of her desire. She reached toward him expectantly, her cherry red lips parting slightly at his approach.

Arrabella could barely contain her excitement for this, she knew, was one of those moments. It was a 'the moment' - time for her first real kiss. Her first taste of true love and her first taste of the sublime poutiness of Langley's air-mattress lips.

Lord Langley, in what seemed like the slowest of slow motion, reached toward her breast that now heaved with wanting and... re-tied her white ribboned bodice bow.

'There you are, my lady, sublimely exquisite. We couldn't have you meeting your destiny all untied and askew now, could we?'

'Ah, no, I um, guess not,' Arrabella stammered, her tongue tied and her cheeks aflame. She regained her composure and held her head high. 'Thank you, Lord Langley.'

Arrabella turned back toward the glittering display that stretched out before her and with a strong and purposeful stride, perfectly designed to hide her embarrassment at the misread signals, she set foot on the bridge.

With one last look at the moons, now separating and descending once more to their day-time home below the horizon, and a glance at the land she was leaving behind, Arrabella beckoned Gary and Jim and Langley to walk with her; four abreast, hand-in-hand toward the Tri-Towers.

And together they did; step for step, skip for skip along the golden stone road, over the Lake Loch and away from all that they previously known, toward whatever the future would bring them.