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any moment, checking for intruders and gertruders and tart-stealing pastry chefs. If she finds you she shall surely have your heads, and possibly your necks and shoulders too, for her Cranium Court. Please, please leave! For my sake at least; I'm rather attached to my head.'

      Arrabella, being the wily and magical wonder-woman that she was, never could run from a challenge; and this was like a double-dare with torture, kiss and promise. She would not flee from it. Not ever. Never.

      For, surely, this was a test. A test on the quest; the quest requested at Buttercup's bequest.

      She turned to her faithful three. 'My friends, this little goat-man; um, what is your name, funny goat-man?'

      'Bruce,' he lifted his chin defiantly, sure that they would jeer and taunt him for not having a more faun-like name like his brothers Cecil, Cyril and Cedric.

      'Right,' Arrabella carried on, not noticing Bruce's discomfort. 'Bruce has warned us of impending danger. A Turkish tart. The Queen of Turkish Tarts.

      'Now, my spidey-senses are tingling and they demand that we face this challenge. There is a reason we have been flung into this strange land of darkness and lamp-posts and fidgeting fauns, and we must not retreat or hide. Are you with me?'

      Arrabella faced each of her companions in turn. Her lovely Lord, he of the perfect oily manliness stepped forward immediately and dipped his head. 'Always my love; always and forever. I will follow you to the ends of whichever earth we find ourselves.' He flexed his biceps to emphasise his point.

      'Of course we are with you, Arrabella,' said the wise Wizard, grasping his Llama-Bone wand in a gnarled, trembling hand. Arrabella wondered if he was ever actually going to use it. Gary seemed to be saving up his magics for an opportune moment, and she was interested to see what sort of fire-power he had.

      She turned toward the pistachio fairy and silently asked the question of him, too. 'Of course!' Jim clapped his hands yet again and stretched his hands above his little green head.

      At first Arrabella thought he was just reaching for his trusty bow and arrow from his dainty celadon quiver.

      But that wasn't at all what Prince Jim did.

      With a small grunt, a twist and a hiccup and some rather odd contortionist-type bending of his shoulder blades, followed by a fairy-shudder so brief it could have been an illusion and an audible crack of his neck - Prince Jim of the Fey released his wings.

      Arrabella gasped.

      Gary smiled knowingly.

      And Langley froze, the muscles in his considerable torso quivered and his buttocks clenched in shock. Or was it bewilderment, or a touch of appendage-envy?

      Jim stretched his wings to their full extension and winked at Langley. He expected this reaction from the oh-so-manly Lord. It was always the way when a fairy showed off his most-prized possession.

      Jim's unfurled wings sprouted from either side of his shoulders like huge hands of the softest, finest, palest-green scrotum skin. They whispered on the breeze as he flapped them suggestively at Langley. The glistening snow reflected the sparkling emerald sequins that formed patterns along the wing-tips and showed Jim's royal heritage like a pea green rainbow against the crisp white carpet underfoot.

      Langley remained speechless, while Arrabella said, 'Wow, they're pretty um...'

      Jim held up a helpfully halting hand. 'Yes, I know. Impressive, aren't I? But you can tell me how wonderful they are later. I'll even let you stroke them if you like. For now - we must be ready for this Queen of Turkish Tarts, whoever she may be.'

      Arrabella, impressed by Jim's sudden Princely-ness, nodded and drew her Inuuku wand.

      Silently they waited. And waited. The tension became almost tangible, like a stale fog that hung in the air. Bruce the faun took his own advice and retreated to the shadow. But patiently and stoically, the four heroes stood their ground, awaiting whatever evil was coming their way.

      It was the fair Fey Prince who first felt her coming a couple of minutes later. His wings, like giant radar detectors, picked up the vibration before any of them saw her.

      'Quickly, quickly my Lord; oh yes, and Arrabella. And Gary. Be ready for 'something', as a 'something' is certainly headed in this direction at tubular speed!'

      From nowhere, or somewhere like it, Lord Langley Kilkenny drew a sword of remarkable lustre and length. Adorned with peacock feathers and leather straps studded with what looked suspiciously like human teeth, the blade was all at once rather pretty and terrifying.

      'Oh, my Lord, wherever have you been hiding your weapon?' Arrabella asked breathlessly.

      'My lady, it has been with me all along,' Langley admitted.

      Arrabella's mind boggled as to what else was hiding under the tiny scrap of cloth.

      The Four offered any likely foe an arresting sight, armed as they were with Innuku wand and warrior skill; massive sword and rippling muscles; bow, arrows and magnificent wings; Llama-Bone and centuries of wise-knowledge and magics.

      And they stood as fearsome warriors, facing the direction Prince Jim had directed in his directions to be at the ready.

      Within seconds, a rumbling could be heard. Jim pricked his pointy fairy ears and nodded, drawing his bow. Arrabella sensed hooves, thundering and calompachomping through the snow. In mere moments, her spidey-senses proved her right once again. For out of the Cimmerian Woodland to the north, appeared a splendid sleigh pulled by six galloping Centaurs.

      Arrabella's brilliant eyes brimmed with tears. She had never before seen such pitiful creatures. The usually-proud Centaurs were harnessed to one another by titanium chains. Already resistant to most forms of earth-magic, these chains also bubbled with the indigo sparks of a powerful enchantment. In every place that the titanium touched a Centaur's skin, it bit and twisted like a barbed southern squid-jig.

      The sleigh itself was made of a luminescent rosaceous pink crystal-like glass, ornately adorned with white gold katerlee roses and ivy and morgantheums. The inside was lined with rich alsinaceous velvet, piled high with soft, fluffy cushions of the same fabric.

      Atop all of this, and obscenely-magnificent in her coralline silk gown, titian hair blowing behind her, sat she who could only be The Queen of Turkish Tarts.

      She yodelled and whipped the Centaurs with a purpurin coil of leather, demanding they halt so she could address the newcomers.

      Never before had any of the heroic questing-quartet seen such poise, such elegance or such an overwhelming regal presence. This woman was nothing short of magnificent and all but glowed with her prestigious rank.

      Arrabella could barely look the queen in the eyes, so overwhelmed was she with a wave of unworthiness.

      Wise Gary dropped to his knees before the amazing creature atop the candy-floss sleigh.

      Flighty-fairy Jim fluttered his wings and floated to the ground beside the wizard.

      Lord Langley hesitated for a moment, seemingly drawn more to the wretched Centaurs than by the Queen herself. His chiselled features darkened with waves of painful compassion for the beasts before he too succumbed and fell to one bare and oily knee to pay homage to the woman who held their fates.

      Arrabella curtsied low, her eyes cast down toward the ground, unable to speak and thankful that none of her companions had yet dared to. This Queen demanded attention and probably obedience and was unlikely to take kindly to unsolicited chatter.

      At last the Queen rose from her velvet settee; in her hand, an ornate glass sceptre carved with the same filigree patterns as the sleigh. She slammed it into the ground, inches from the knees of the prostrate forms before her whereon an orb of the most delicate pink sapphire, which sat atop the sceptre, cast strobes of pink light across the land. It was rather like a salmon-sun shower.

      The titian-haired queen stood tall and grand, prepared to make an announcement. She cleared

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