Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  Oh, Gosh, with all this insanity I’m witnessing, I almost forgot about the date again!

  “And you, Maria, it was a great pleasure finally meeting you,” E’olin continued, startling Maria out of her daydream. Her hand had almost, on instinct, gone to the sword hanging off her hip.

  “Oh—sorry,” she said. “It was a pleasure meeting…Wait! What do you mean finally meeting me?”

  E’olin smiled. It was the type of smile you’d see on the movie stars of Earth. Still doesn’t hold a candle to Joe’s smile, though.

  “Oh, Maria, many of us on Oriceran know of you and your grandfather. Not all, but many. Your story is a legend to some here,” he told her.

  Maria looked at Gramps with so many questions on the tip of her tongue, but Gramps just looked back and said, “In time, my dear Maria. You will know all of this in time.”

  “Yes,” E’olin said, still smiling. “If you snoop around the stacks for awhile, you might even stumble upon a few books with you in them.”

  Maria’s jaw dropped open. Me? Inside of books, like I’m a character or something? That’s just crazy! But looking at the Light Elf in front of her, she could tell he wasn’t lying. Why couldn’t it be true? Stranger things have happened to me.

  “I do wish I could be of more help,” E’olin said, his smile now fading. “But if I know Ignatius Mangood—and I do—he will not accept the Light Elves’ help.”

  “Now, E’olin,” Gramps said. “Living out these last few Earth decades has humbled me. I’m no longer one to shy away from help, and with the stuff we are currently dealing with, I may need help from more than just the Light Elves.”

  “What are you dealing with?”

  Gramps shook his head.

  The smile appeared on E’olin’s face again. “Ah, just like I remembered you, Ignatius.”

  Gramps smiled back. “I guess I haven’t changed too much. If I need the Light Elves’ help, I promise I won’t hesitate. So far, this is our own problem; I wouldn’t want to get that nice garb of yours dirty.” He gave E’olin a wink and E’olin patted him on the back before leaving the way they had come.

  A Gnome was standing near the group, and he had been looking on impatiently as the Light Elf made his farewells. His face said I know it’s my job to help you, but could you hurry it up a little, for crying out loud?

  Sherlock was being bold, inching closer to the Gnome with his nose thrust out, sniffing deeply.

  He’d done the same thing to some particularly rank spilled garbage not far from Salem’s last week, ultimately deciding against eating it, which was a miracle in and of itself.

  As she watched the Elf walk away, Maria had so many questions. Quite ironic, being in the library and all, surrounded by answers.

  “Finally,” the Gnome huffed as Gramps turned to him. The flower atop his bowler hat was snarling. Maria didn’t even bother saying ‘What the fuck?’ and the Gnome continued. “How can I direct you?”

  “We aren’t here looking for books,” Gramps answered, leaning down to be eye level with the Gnome, which resulted in him being on his knees. The Gnome did not look amused. Gramps’s hand absentmindedly stroked the back of Sherlock’s neck. There was no growling; hell, not even any sniffing. The Gnome had won the battle before it had even started.

  “If you’re not looking for books, sir, you’re in the wrong place.”

  Gramps shook his head.

  Maria stepped up to Gramps. “Please get on with it. I don’t think Gnomes are very patient creatures.”

  The Gnome put his hands on his hips. “ ‘Creature’? Who are you calling a creature? Never seen a Gnome before?” He said this all in the same nasally voice that Maria had heard from the first Gnome. It was déjà vu, except this time, the flower atop the Gnome’s hat hissed at them and bared its teeth. She suddenly hoped Joe would not bring her more flowers when she met him for their first date, and that the flowers currently sitting in a vase of water back at Salem’s never grew fangs. Then again, she supposed anything was possible.

  “No, I haven’t. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. This is all pretty new to me.” She couldn’t help but think the Gnome resembled one of the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz, but she didn’t dare say that.

  The Gnome ignored her and looked back to Gramps. “Well, if you don’t need a book, then I must be going. My time is as valuable as anyone’s.”

  “I need access to the vault,” Gramps said, his voice deadly serious.

  “The vault? Now, sir, you know it is forbidden for anyone but my kind to venture back there.”

  “So that rule is still in effect?” Gramps said. He stood up, his knees popping and his spine echoing. “I thought that much.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a gold coin. Maria instantly recognized it, because it wasn’t a gold coin at all. It was one of those circular pieces of chocolate wrapped to look like a gold coin, and judging by its limpness, the chocolate was well on its way to melting.

  The Gnome eyed it cautiously. “A bribe?” he asked. “I’m sure you know I can report you for this…”

  “Aw, you and I both know you won’t. A nice Gnome like you loves gold, don’t you? Well I got plenty more of these from where I come from.”

  Suddenly, the Gnome’s mouth dropped open, revealing its little sharp teeth. “Earth?” he said breathlessly.

  Gramps nodded. “Silver and copper, too.” He fished out a couple nickels and a few pennies—most of them dirty, but the Gnome was drawn to them regardless.

  Sherlock had taken to sniffing the gold chocolate coin in Gramps’s other hand. Maria leaned down and whispered so the Gnome wouldn’t hear, “What are you doing? You know how sick you get when you eat chocolate. It’s not worth the pain, trust me. Plus, I don’t know if I have it in me to clean up after you. Where does vomit even end up in an invisible castle?”

  I know what it does to me. This isn’t out of enjoyment.

  He snatched the coin gently from Gramps’s hand, much to the Gnome’s displeasure. The Gnome was shaking in anger, and both he and his flower were in disarray.

  “Sherlock, no! Bad dog!”

  It’s suicide, Sherlock continued. But I’m gonna do it! I swear I am. His red eyes were watery.

  “Suicide? Why?”

  Because I’ve failed. I’ve made my wolf ancestors turn over in their graves. If my balls weren’t already gone, they would be now.

  “Sherlock, what the heck are you on about? You’re being fucking crazy.”

  Says the girl who’s talking to a dog.

  “Even when you’re sad, you feel the need to belittle me. I see, Sherlock. Oh, well; if you wanna die, be my guest. But that isn’t going to kill you. It’s just gonna make you sick.”

  The Bloodhound hung his head, and then looked back up, and dropping the chocolate coin on the library’s floor. The Gnome breathed a sigh of relief and went for it, but not before Gramps snatched it back and wiped the Sherlock drool off on his shirt.

  “Not so fast,” Gramps said. “Do we have a deal?”

  The Gnome bounced from foot to foot, sending the flower swaying and, if Maria wasn’t crazy—she wasn’t sure yet—whining, despite the fundamental fact that flowers typically don’t make noises. At least not on Earth.

  Maria leaned down next to Sherlock and started petting him. Right then, she was more worried about her dog than about trying to bribe information out of a fairy-tale creature; even if said information could save an entire village that was stuck in the world in between.

  The truth was, if the Gnome wasn’t going to give them the information they needed, Maria would find another way to get it. She was not one for giving up, no matter how tired, scared, or worried she felt.

  “What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked Sherlock in a low voice.

  It’s him, Sherlock answered, tilting his head to the Gnome. It’s that damn Gnome.

  “What do you mean?”

  I’m too afraid to eat him.

  Maria couldn’t help herself anymore. She had
to laugh.

  Sherlock furrowed his brow. What? The only reason I came was because—

  “Oh, not because you cared about Gramps and me, but because you wanted to eat a Gnome?” Maria gasped.

  The Gnome looked at Maria and Sherlock as they conversed a few steps from he and Gramps. Gramps snapped his fingers to get the Gnome’s attention back on him and asked, “Do we have a deal here?”

  “Did that thing just say it wanted to eat me?” the Gnome asked.

  “Not important,” Gramps said.

  “Sorry,” Maria said to the Gnome, then to Sherlock, “Look what you made me do. Not nice. We both knew you weren’t going to eat any Gnomes. You’ve filled up on trash ice cream and dead squirrels.”

  With that, it seemed that Sherlock smiled slightly.

  “There he is. Yeah, just think of dead squirrels, if it makes you feel better; though I have no idea why it would,” Maria continued.

  You’re right. I have to accept that I’m afraid of the Gnome. It’s kind of like when I was younger and I was always barking at cars going down the road.

  “God, I remember that. Those were some tough school days, after your barking kept me up all night.”

  If I’d caught a car, I don’t know what the hell I would do with it, Maria. The same goes for Gnomes. I caught one, and I have no idea what to do with it besides put my tail between my legs and whimper.

  “I wouldn’t say you caught one, but don’t be too hard on yourself, Sherlock.”

  Thank you, Maria. I will learn to accept the Gnomes. I will make the Gnomes my friend.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, buddy.” She ruffled the fur behind his ears, and he began to wag his tail. It was a good sign. They didn’t really have time to worry about a suicidal dog while also trying to find a way to get the village out of the world in between. Maria could handle a lot, she knew, but that was just too much.

  They walked back over to Gramps and the Gnome. As they stopped, they overhead the Gnome say, “No deal,” while he waved his stubby arms back and forth. “I’m sorry. This is wrong. I can’t give you access to our secrets just for some shiny Earth coins. I may not have much left in my measly life of helping Elves find cookbooks and ‘how-to-file-down-my-too-pointy-ears’ manuals, but I still have my pride!”

  With that, the Gnome pirouetted and disappeared down the maze of stacks, his small stature swallowed up by the shadows.

  Gramps sighed. “Dammit, I almost had him. Why’d you have to go and say you wanted to eat him, Sherlock!?" He paused. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I should've known it was worthless to try to bribe a Gnome. Back when I lived they wouldn't so much as sniff a bribe. Thought maybe times were a-changing.”

  Maria said it!

  Of course Gramps couldn’t understand what Sherlock was trying to say, only Maria could, and trying to judge a Bloodhound’s mood by his features often proved quite hard. So Maria said, “He says he’s sorry, too, Gramps,” instead.

  Sherlock gave her his best death stare.

  Not cool.

  “Payback is a bitch,” Maria said.

  More like ‘payback is a Maria.’

  Maria laughed loud enough for a nearby Gnome to tell her to be quiet.

  Ah, libraries. Some things are universal.

  She murmured, “Sorry,” and waved at the Gnome, who only rolled his eyes, adjusted the flower atop his bowler hat, and went back to doing whatever it was that Gnomes did in the Light Elves’ library.

  “Now what?” she asked Gramps.

  Gramps narrowed his eyes and looked around the stacks. “Maybe we just got the wrong Gnome. At least one of these little buggers can be corrupted by cash.”

  “Yeah,” Maria said, looking at the coins in Gramps’s palm, “a whole fifty-two cents. They could put a down payment on a candy bar back on Earth.”

  “It’s not about the monetary value. It’s about the shininess.”

  “In that case, we could just bring a bunch of aluminum foil to Oriceran next time, and get whatever we wanted.”

  Gramps patted her on the back. “Now you’re thinking, Maria!”

  “I was jo—”

  “Psst,” someone said from behind them.

  Maria and Gramps turned around. Standing in the shadows of the monumental shelves was a half-horse, half-man—a Centaur. This Centaur looked, for lack of a better word, sketchy—the type of Centaur you might see slinking around alleys in the dead of night, trying to push Oriceran drugs for a living.

  “You looking for secrets?” the Centaur said.

  Maria was about to say ‘no, thanks’ on instinct, but Gramps shushed her.

  “Who wants to know?” Gramps said slyly.

  “Uh, I do?” the Centaur said. He furrowed his brow.

  “Is that so?”

  “Look, buddy, you want my help or not? You can spend the rest of eternity trying to shake down the Gnomes here for information, but we all know they’ll never talk…at least not these Gnomes,” the creature said.

  “What are you doing in the library, friend?” Gramps asked. “Centaurs roam in packs. Where is the rest of yours? I’ve never known a Centaur to spend any time in the library, let alone read.”

  The Centaur raised an eyebrow. “You of all people shouldn’t be too quick to judge any creature, Ignatius Mangood.”

  “Then we’re well-met, Centaur,” Gramps said, sticking out his hand. But before the two could shake a Gnome passed by and said, “Quiet in the library!” The Centaur pressed his body up against the shelf, letting the shadows hide him.

  Say ‘please,’ asshole, Sherlock grumbled.

  The Gnome stopped near Sherlock and looked him up and down, both he and his flower grimacing.

  “Beasts such as these should be outlawed,” the Gnome said.

  Sherlock lunged forward, growling. The Gnome shrieked and waddled away.

  “That’s my boy!” Maria praised him.

  Sherlock’s tail wagged, and he looked younger.

  Man, that felt good! He even let out a bark, tempting another Gnome to try and shush him.

  Instead, Maria did. “Now don’t push your luck, buddy. We still have business to attend to here. Don’t wanna get thrown out.”

  “About that business,” the Centaur said, “do you want the information or not?”

  “What’s the price?” Maria said, stepping forward. She loved her grandfather, but sometimes he could get off-track. If she didn’t take charge here, she wouldn’t put it past him to invite the Centaur to the Elvish bar and have a few drinks while a village of people were stuck somewhere in the world in between, and the Earth clock ticked closer to Maria and Joe’s first date.

  “No price,” the Centaur answered. “Just a friendly tip for a famous man.” He smiled at Gramps. Gramps smiled back.

  “Sounds too good to be true,” Maria said.

  The Centaur motioned to Maria’s sword and satchel. “Oh, it’s not, fair maiden. I will give you information—a proverbial map, let’s say—but your road to success will not be any easier. In fact, where this information takes you may make your journey even more difficult.”

  “Okay, you’ve got my attention,” Maria said.

  Out of nowhere, the Centaur stood on its hind legs and whinnied softly. A sign of happiness, she thought, if Centaurs were anything like Earth horses.

  “Wait for it,” Gramps said, crossing his arms but still smiling.

  No sooner did Maria look at her grandfather than the Centaur landed and spoke up.

  “There is one thing.” He raised an index finger.

  “Ah, there it is.”

  Never trust a horse, Sherlock said. They’re almost as bad as squirrels. A lot bigger, yeah, sure, but that doesn’t mean a thing.

  Maria tried to ignore him, but couldn’t. “First Gnomes and now horses? Do you like anything?”

  Naps, ice cream, garbage, and roadkill…not necessarily in that order.

  “You’re gross.”

  Hey, it’s in my DNA. You can’t blame me!


  “I can and I will,” Maria answered. She turned back to the Centaur. “Okay, what’s the one thing you need from us?”

  “It’s easy, really, I promise.” He rose on his hind legs again to point. The shelf nearest him stretched high to the ceiling, easily a few stories high. Maria looked on confused.

  “What are you pointing to?”

  The Centaur had a sheepish smile on his face, which was quite ironic, considering the fact that he was part horse.

  “A book. It’s called Centaur Warfare Through the Ages by Mogman Furlock.”

  “Okay?” Maria said, still confused.

  Gramps was shaking his head. “Should’ve known, should’ve known.”

  “Known what?”

  “He wants the book.”

  “Then why can’t he get it? Or ask one of those grumpy Gnomes to get it for you?” E’olin’s nickname for the first Gnome they saw now made complete sense after their run-ins with the other two Gnomes.

  The Centaur twiddled his thumbs and looked down at his hooves. “Centaurs aren’t supposed to be in the library, let alone to be able to read. If they see me, they’ll throw me out. I’ve been able to read almost every book in the Centaur section—except for that one, because I haven’t been able to reach it.”

  “Why didn’t you ask someone before?”

  “Because there are so many books! I never thought I’d run out; yet here I am.”

  “Can I just ask a Gnome to get it for me?”

  “No! No Gnomes must be involved in this! They can smell Centaur the closer they get. Please! If you get it for me, I’ll tell you how you can get the information you need.”

  Maria looked to Gramps. He nodded solemnly.

  “How do you even know what information we need?” Maria asked.

  “I overheard. I may be a barbaric beast by nature, but I’m not hard of hearing, Maria.”

  Maria narrowed her eyes then looked up the towering shelf. “I suppose I’m the one who has to do it?”

  “My bones are too brittle,” Gramps said. Funny thing, since she’d just seen him fight Malakai not long ago, and he’d looked like he was seventy years younger when he did it. “And Sherlock would have a tough time going up there.”