To Infinity and a Bit Further

      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,