Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  Sherlock barked, the noise barely audible over the sounds of war in the nearby town square.

  Maria drew her sword. It seemed to her, and only her, that the blade glowed a violent red. Like the eyes of the Rogue Dragon. “I have a plan,” she said. “Follow me. I’ll need you to watch my back; I’m going for the water tower.”

  Because that worked out so well last time, Sherlock said.

  “Can it,” Maria snapped.

  Sherlock gave her a wink. We’re right behind you. Don’t worry.

  Unknowingly echoing Sherlock, Gelbus plucked a garbage can lid from a nearby alley and held it up like a shield, and said, "We can handle this."

  Her heart swelled with love and admiration for her family.

  “You lead the way, Maria,” Gramps said.

  She did.

  They had to fight their way back toward the tower. Keeping close in a tight circle, they moved with battalion-like efficiency.

  As they broke toward the beach, Gramps urged Maria to go. “We’ll cover you!” His wand zapped a Dragon Tongue, causing the storming soldier to drop to his knees, which tripped some trailing Orcs. They scrambled up, and Frieda sent a wave of white energy in their direction, singeing their backsides as they fled toward the gates, rethinking their decisions to fight.

  Now was Maria’s chance to make a beeline toward the tower. Dodging in and out of tipped buggies and wagons, she felt like a mouse trapped in a maze.

  She risked a glance back and saw Gelbus on Sherlock’s back again. An arrow sliced through the air toward them, and she froze.

  A loud clang rang out in the air as Gelbus raised his makeshift garbage lid shield to block the arrow.

  The Gnome is quick, she thought.

  Then, with his free hand, Gelbus smacked Sherlock’s hindquarters.

  Hey now! What did I say about buying me a drink first? Sherlock’s voice drifted toward her, but he took off as Gelbus pointed to the source of the arrow.

  An Orc looked at them, his fingers jittering as he tried to reload his crossbow. Just when he did, Sherlock stopped before he ran into a burning wagon. Gelbus used this sudden halt to his advantage. As Sherlock reeled backward, Gelbus lunged forward. He somersaulted through the air, and landed on top of the Orc, bashing his head in with the garbage lid. The sound rang out over the entire town, even louder than the dragon’s roars—or so it seemed.

  Gelbus took the crossbow and the Orc’s arrows, hopped down, and landed on Sherlock’s back again. They took off toward the Orcs and Dragon Tongue currently locked in a bloody battle on the beach.

  Can’t go back for them, Maria. They can fend for themselves.

  Suddenly the Rogue Dragon, obscured by a building to her left so that she could only see its ridged back and the spikes jutting out along its spine, took flight, beating its wings. The red glow emanated from its belly and moved up its long neck. The dragon’s jaw unhinged, and more fire spewed downward. It swirled until it was lost behind the building. Who the dragon burned, Maria had no idea, but she hoped with all the hope she had left inside of her that it wasn’t any of her family.

  Men screamed. Orcs let out guttural growls of pain.

  I have to go back—

  Go, Maria! Go! We’re all right. We’re holding down the fort. Your grandpa just turned an Orc into a toad. I might eat it…no, on second thought, I won’t. I’m not into toad. Just go and take down that dragon before it picks us for its next barbecue!

  Sherlock is right.

  Maria turned back toward the road that led straight to the water tower. Fire raged on each side of her, the baking heat drenched her in sweat, but she had to keep going.

  The buildings swayed as if they would collapse any moment. She hoped Penelope and the rest of the townspeople were somewhere safe, hidden where the Orcs and Dragon Tongue couldn’t get to them. If they could just hold on a little longer, she would secure their town’s safety.

  Then she could get back to her quest of saving the villagers trapped in the world in between.

  More people to add to my ever-growing family.

  That thought alone gave her enough hope to keep going.

  As she rushed down the road with her sword drawn, an Orc jumped out from behind a burning rickshaw. Her skin glowed a deep blue, and she spun away from his strike so fast, she almost lost her footing. The Orc growled and black spittle sprayed out from between his jagged teeth.

  “Music box,” he yelled, sniffing deeply. “Musiiiiic boxxxx.”

  “Yeah, no, buddy. That’s mine,” Maria said. She raised her sword, bringing it across her person.

  The Orc snarled and took off after her. Maria stood her ground, swinging her blade up to meet the Orc’s own. The kiss of steel rang out over the roaring of the flames and beating wings of the nearby dragon.

  Maria spun and swept the blade at his feet. The Orc expected the blow and jumped over it as easily as if he had been jumping rope.

  However, he didn’t expect the magic Maria had conserved and released as the he jumped. The blue light smashed into the Orc’s chest, sending him tumbling down the street. He hit the front of a building; bricks and glass cascaded down over him. He was out cold.

  Maria took a deep breath. The dragon’s roaring was distant now; not because it had fled the battle, but because Maria was beyond lightheaded. Such a magical punch was sure to drain her.

  She leaned onto the ruins of a merchant’s stand and tried to catch her breath, hoping she wouldn’t run into any more Orcs or Dragon Tongue on her trek to the water tower. She needed all the energy, magical and otherwise, she could preserve in order to be successful.

  Gotta keep going, she told herself.

  The sword in her hand weighed as much as a full-grown person, and the music box in its satchel tugged at her shoulders, making her posture dip. She thought about shedding it altogether—a bad thought, she knew, but one that would at least make the journey more tolerable.

  She took another deep breath, trying to steady herself. It wasn’t working as well as she hoped it would, but she had no choice other than to keep going.

  Maria raised her head and forced her legs to move.

  “Music box?” a gruff voice said from the end of the road.

  Through the smoke, she saw the silhouette of a hulking figure. Another Orc. Great. Not just a regular Orc—as if I’d even know what a regular Orc is—but an Orc on steroids.

  This particular Orc stepped forward out of the shadows. He wore a large golden breastplate that wasn’t quite large enough to cover his barrel chest and potbelly. It wasn’t a belly that looked soft to the touch, either, but a belly that looked as if it were full of the hard corpses of his enemy.

  “You must be the witch everyone is after,” the Orc said, something akin to a smile showing on his face. His large teeth protruded from his lower jaw, sticking straight up. ‘Nightmare-inducing’ were the words currently flashing through Maria’s mind.

  She forced herself to stand up straighter despite the obvious lethargy that had invaded her, and she stuck her sword out in the soon-to-be-trademarked battle pose of Maria Apple, copied from such great swordsmen as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Aragorn, and Inigo Montoya—Hello Orc, my name is Maria Apple. You helped kill Ashbourne, prepare to die…you slimy bastard. Not verbatim, but good enough.

  “And you must be the Orc I’m going to kill,” Maria answered.

  The Orc laughed deep and raucously. Maria almost plugged her ears to dampen the sound, yet she thought it wise not to. Her energy was best conserved for when she really needed it.

  “Nobody kills Urlik! Nobody!” the Orc bellowed.

  As the Orc charged, she realized that now was one of those times she needed it. She also realized that despite this moment being one of life and death, she could hardly raise her sword up for longer than twenty seconds, let alone do magic.

  I’m not gonna just lie here and let this creature tear my head off and take the music box, though. If I’m going to die, I’ll take him down with me.

 
; The Orc swung his sword in arc. Maria blocked the hit with her own blade, but the vibrations sent up her arms burned, and she was driven back some five feet. This large beast twirled with all the grace of someone three times smaller and swung again.

  This time, Maria dove out of the way. Her landing was not graceful. She hit the stone walkway with a bone-clattering thud, and the satchel containing the increasingly heavier music box slammed into her ribcage, knocking all the breath from her lungs. She gasped for air, wheezing.

  The Orc laughed again as he cornered her, raising his black sword with the deadly hook at the end.

  “How lucky for me,” his voice boomed. “I stumble across the one witch the Widow would pay a fortune for, and that one witch barely breathes.”

  Maria gripped her sword tight. She was preparing herself for the deathblow as she tried to scrabble away.

  Her back hit the warm brick of a nearby building. Trapped. Dead end.

  Fuck.

  “Now not only am I gonna get to take her little toy,” the Orc pointed to the satchel and snorted, snot running out of his nose in thick gobs, “but I get to take her head back to the Widow. You know what that means?”

  Maria didn’t answer.

  “It means, witch, that I’m gonna be a very rich Orc.”

  Maria still said nothing. Her eyes scanned the horizon. The longer she could draw the inevitable out, the more her energy would be able to recharge. Not to mention the longer she’d have to plan her escape from both this dead end and death.

  “This is the part where you offer me an ultimatum, witch.”

  “I have nothing to give you.”

  “So be it,” the Orc growled, and raised his sword, jutting his teeth forward.

  “But—” Maria stalled for time, “You are obviously no dummy. If the Widow wants something so badly she’s willing to pay you a fortune for it, then whatever it is she wants must be even more valuable.”

  The Orc lowered his sword, but not by much. All it would take was one thrust, and Maria would be skewered. He narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought, or as if he didn’t trust what Maria was saying.

  All around them the fighting continued. The Rogue Dragon roared, sending shivers through Maria’s body. She may have been buying time, but no matter what, her time was going to run out. That dragon sounded hungry; not just for destruction, but for death.

  “What is it you have? A music box? That does not seem very valuable to me,” the Orc said.

  “Value, my friend, is subjective. Do you like gold?”

  “Of course I like gold. What kind of stupid question is that?” He narrowed his eyes more. “Why? Are you going to offer me some?”

  “Perhaps,” Maria said. The strength was already flowing through her. Hell, if I can talk my way out of fighting a giant Orc, maybe I can do the same to the dragon. Put down the sword and never fight again. Yeah, right. The sword was apart of her now. What did Hunter say? That it belonged to some famous dragon slayer? Well, life is one big circle, isn’t it? What goes around comes around. Maria would slay the dragon with her sword, not for enjoyment, but because it was her duty.

  “ ‘Perhaps’?” the Orc repeated, grimacing. “There shall be no ‘perhaps’es when one’s life is on the line. Are you as stupid as you are puny, witch?”

  “I am only making a point. You love gold because of all those who covet it. If no one wanted gold, it would be perceived as worthless. Trust me. I come from a far away land where everyone covets paper money.”

  “No,” the Orc said. “Paper? How could your kind be so dumb?”

  “It’s a question I ask myself almost everyday,” Maria replied. “But we’re not all dumb, especially those who spend every waking hour with their noses in books.”

  “The horror! Books? More paper!” Urlik said.

  “Anyway, paper controls us, just as gold controls you. Now the music box I have is neither gold nor paper. It is something worth much more.”

  She expected the Orc to tell her to keep going, but he kept quiet instead.

  “It is a key, of sorts.”

  “A key?” The Orc laughed. “A key versus a king’s ransom, a hundred times my weight in gold? Hmm, let me think.”

  Maria’s muscles tensed. She knew this spiel.

  “I don’t think I’ll take my chances, witch. When I bring your head and that cursed music box to the Arachnids’ lair, I will leave a rich man.”

  “That’s too bad,” Maria said.

  “How so?”

  “Because you won’t ever reach the Widow’s lair. You actually won’t even leave this town.”

  The Orc’s eyes widened just as Maria sprang up, her sword at the ready. She attacked the Orc with a flurry of hits, driving him back against the wall. Her flesh glowed blue and illuminated the dark alleyway. Time had been bought, and with it, her energy replenished.

  The Orc fended her off for as long as he could, but Maria was like a woman possessed. She took a hit to the face by the Orc’s massive forearm, which was covered in a steel gauntlet, and tasted her own blood.

  That had done it.

  With a spin, she brought the blade around to her left and drove backward with all of her might. The sword pierced the Orc’s armor as he cried out, his voice muted by the roar of the dragon nearby—another reminder that Maria had no time to dilly-dally.

  She pulled the blade free with a wet squelch and a steel-on-steel screech, spinning back around to look the Orc in the eyes.

  They were fogged over, the eyes of a dead man—or Orc. He dropped his sword, and Maria kicked it down the alleyway with so much force, sparks flicked off the cobblestones as metal dragged across rock.

  “Congratulations,” the Orc said, coughing, dark blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth. “It is not often a magic user bests an Orc such as me—a female magic user, at that.”

  “May you die honorably,” Maria said. “Perhaps I shall see you in the next life.”

  A dying croak escaped the Orc’s throat, the ever-famous death rattle, and Maria turned her back on him.

  His large, bloody hands seized Maria around the neck and he pulled her to him. His dark blood dampened the back of her shirt, and she smelled his foul breath, gagging.

  “No, it will not be that easy, witch. If I cannot cut your head off, I will pull it free from your body instead!” The Orc growled.

  Flailing her arms and legs, Maria was lifted from the ground, her neck cracking. Soon, her vision went dark, dotted with pinpricks of white light, like looking at stars on a clear night in the countryside. She beat at him, hearing the sounds of her fists on his armor, then not hearing anything besides the rush of blood to her head. She was in so much pain she could not even draw on any magic.

  “Hey, asshole!” someone said through the haze of anguish and despair. It was a familiar voice.

  Another one answered. “Yeah, we’re talking to you, you douchebag!”

  Claire? Tabby? But that’s impossible…

  Suddenly, the pressure around her neck let up. Her vision flooded back in a tsunami wave of relief. She gasped for breath, hardly noticing the pain in her knees as she hit the ground. But Maria didn’t have time to enjoy her newfound freedom.

  There was an Orc to kill.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a surprise for you!”

  That is definitely Claire’s voice. Maybe I’m hearing her through the portals, like two plastic cups connected by string. No, that’s crazy. It can’t—

  She looked up, and sure enough, Tabby and Claire stood on the roof of the building opposite her, illuminated by the burning town.

  The Orc looked up just in time to see the two girls throw their bodies into the leaning brick chimney. What happened next seemed to move in slow motion.

  The bricks cascaded down, floating effortlessly in the air as they pinwheeled and danced. Tabby almost fell with them, but Claire grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled with all her might.

  The Orc’s arms shot up, crisscrossing in an attempt
to shield himself from the hundreds of pounds of brick that struck him with a loud, reverberating crash. He collapsed beneath them, his fearful shout cut off by certain death.

  Maria scurried away from the carnage as a black pool of blood slowly seeped out from under the pile of brick. She found her sword and used it to raise herself off of the ground.

  “Yeah! Way to go! We kicked his ass!” Claire yelled.

  Maria couldn’t believe her eyes. She would’ve pinched herself, had she not been in enough pain already.

  Besides, this was real. They were actually there. No way her mind could dream up such vivid images of her two best friends. Unless you’re dead and you’re having some sort of out-of-body spiritual hallucination. Maybe this is what death is like, seeing how things could’ve been. But no, I feel the ground beneath my feet, the sword in my hand, and the hot wind ruffling through my hair.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Maria shouted up at them.

  “We couldn’t let you have all the fun!” Claire shouted back.

  There was an old, rusty ladder that went halfway up the building. It didn’t look quite safe, but neither did taking on a huge Orc with depleted magic. Claire and Tabby eased their way down, falling the rest of the way. Their clothes were sooty and worn. Tabby’s shirt was so soaked through with sweat; it clung to her body like a leotard.

  “Yeah, Claire’s right,” Tabby said as she stepped over the pile of bricks, eliciting another death rattle—this one definitely real—from the Orc. “I mean, a dragon, Maria? That’s too fucking cool to miss.”

  Claire laughed and slapped Tabby on the back, then the three best friends stared at one another for a long moment.

  “Thank you!” Maria finally said with tears in her eyes. She rushed over to them and hugged them as tight as her weakening body would allow her.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Claire said. “We really shouldn’t have let you go by yourself in the first place. It was a nice lady named Lois who convinced us otherwise.”

  “But…how—” Maria began.

  “Salem and Agnes. Don’t worry, we aren’t secret witches or anything,” Tabby said, grinning.