Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  Gloria listened with intent. That was good; Frieda had her attention, and the Head Witch was considering her proposal.

  Then, as if Frieda hadn’t just spoken for many long minutes, Gloria answered with a resounding no. “I will not aid those who oppose us and our ideals.”

  “But they don’t!” Frieda argued.

  She sensed the leverage she had slipping away. She stood up and was about to turn and head back toward the clearing on foot, no matter how far it was, when the flaps of the surrounding huts moved, and Frieda’s long-lost sisters emerged.

  “I think we should, Gloria,” Tania said. “Too long have we sat idly by, while the world destroys itself a little more each day. We can make a difference.”

  “Yes, I agree,” Petunia echoed.

  Frieda smiled at her sisters, and they smiled back.

  Family, through and through.

  “The Arachnids have been our mortal enemies for as long as I can remember. For as long as our history on this world,” Olivia reasoned.

  Their collective words were working their magic on the Head Witch.

  “Most of the world—well, those who know of us—think we are dark, evil. I believe, Gloria, that it is time to prove them wrong,” Asia said.

  All of Frieda’s sisters now surrounded the Head Witch, her face as impassive as a stone. They watched her with their own form of fire in their eyes. Slowly, the Head Witch’s gaze softened.

  “A war,” Gloria sighed. “One of my own comes back to me after all this time and wants us to join a war that will surely be a bloodbath.” She paused. Each word hung in the air for a long while. She looked at each member of her tribe, Frieda last. “We will surely die,” she said, a sad smile breaking out on her face.

  “No, we won’t,” Frieda countered. “As long as we stick together. I’m sorry for leaving, but I’m back now, and I’ll be right there by your sides while we take the Arachnids down.”

  “It has been a long, long time since we’ve done any fighting at all,” Gloria mused.

  “All the more reason to go out there and kick some ass,” Olivia said.

  “Yeah, kick some spider ass,” Asia amended.

  Gloria smiled and closed her eyes. She nodded. “So be it! We shall join your war. We shall crush the Arachnids, and we shall crush the darkness.”

  Frieda couldn’t help herself. She rushed across the clearing and threw her arms around the Head Witch. The others made their way over and joined in. Frieda hadn’t realized how much she’d missed them all until now.

  And to fight with them by her side…well, that was the ultimate honor.

  Once Joe, Maria, and Sherlock arrived at the mountains, Joe had trouble closing his mouth.

  “You keep it open long enough, and some weird, magical fly is going to take up residence inside you,” Maria teased as they traveled up the rocky landscape. “Think of that chest-bursting scene in Alien. You don’t want that.”

  Joe’s mouth closed pretty quickly at that.

  Lucky bastard. I wish bugs would just fly into my mouth, Sherlock pouted. He was ahead of them, but not so far that Maria couldn’t see him. The Bloodhound had learned his lesson since running ahead in the Cave of Delusion the first time.

  They rounded the mountain until they came upon the opening where Odarth had been directed to wait until Maria was ready to call on her.

  “Now, this is probably going to blow your mind,” Maria said to Joe, “but I need you to promise me you’re not going to pass out again.”

  He shook his head. “I’m all done passing out. I promise.”

  “Okay.” She drew her sword and, after spinning it in her palm, thrust it downward into the stone.

  Joe watched with equal parts amusement and awe. He had not expected the stone to break; Maria was simply not that strong. But the stone had broken as easily as if it had been dirt.

  In a commanding voice, his girlfriend boomed, “Man of the Mountain! I have come for my dragon!”

  Nobody replied for a long moment. Sherlock took up shelter behind a large boulder, and Joe suddenly wondered what could possibly frighten the dog. Then the words that Maria had spoken, in a voice so unlike her own, finally registered in his head.

  Dragon. What the hell? I didn’t believe her before, but—

  The ground started to shake. From the darkness, a white figure emerged. It was huge, larger than any animal Joe had seen at the countless zoos he’d visited growing up. Its eyes, burning with fire, were as big as the headlights on his Honda Civic.

  Shit, even bigger, maybe.

  The dragon stopped a few feet away from them. For a moment, Joe thought he might piss his pants. He couldn’t breathe, and his heart thundered against his sternum hard enough to make his shirt dance and jitter.

  The dragon looked menacing—and hungry—but it made no move to hurt the wanderers.

  Maria stepped forward and placed a hand—a calm hand, Joe noticed—on the dragon’s snout.

  ‘So close to its teeth?’ Joe wanted to shout. You’re gonna lose a hand!

  Maria rubbed it back and forth. Joe moved a little to the right and was able to see the two locked in a stare of understanding. It was as if they were communicating with their minds.

  But no, that would be crazy. Talking to a dog is one thing, but a dragon? Hell, dragons aren’t even supposed to exist!

  Then Maria nodded, and Joe knew that she was indeed talking to the dragon telepathically.

  I will not hurt you, Odarth, Maria told the animal. I’m sorry I had to leave you here; I hope the Man of the Mountain treated you well.

  He showed me the truth, the dragon replied. He has changed me…for the better.

  Maria weighed the statement for a moment.

  Can I really trust a fire-breathing dragon? A beast whose sole goal in life is to destroy and wreak havoc?

  Looking back in the dragon’s eyes, she saw honesty there. Maybe she could.

  Besides, you could not hurt me if you tried, for I am nearly indestructible, Odarth added.

  You are forgetting who I am, Maria sent to the dragon. I am of Anwyn’s bloodline. Did he not slay you the first time?

  Yes, he did. But I am resurrected, and he is a pile of bones somewhere beneath the earth. I believe I have won that battle.

  Maria smiled. She couldn’t argue with that; except, of course, for the fact that she was carrying on Anwyn’s legacy. She wouldn’t have been able to talk to Odarth—or ride her for that matter—if that were not so.

  Why have you taken me from the cave? Odarth asked. And why have you brought me in the presence of a mutt and another human being? Their eyes are not worthy enough to look upon my scales.

  Have you forgotten already? Maria stepped forward and raised her sword.

  Odarth’s eyes, which had been truthful earlier, were now filled with fear.

  I tasked you with helping me fight a war.

  The dragon looked down at the witch. She bared her large teeth in a smile that rivaled Sherlock’s as the most awkward yet menacing.

  If you tasked me to fight a war with you, then what are we doing, standing around here? Blood must be spilt. Odarth’s forked tongue eased its way out of her mouth and swiped the scales that would’ve been her lips. I can almost taste it, she added, closing her eyes.

  “Well, I can check another thing off of my bucket list: see a homicidal dragon in the flesh,” Joe said loud enough for only Maria to hear him, but she figured Odarth heard him, too.

  Tell the boy I am not a regular dragon. Tell him I am a Rogue Dragon, and homicide is in my DNA. You’re lucky to have tamed me, Maria Apple, as is Joe Gilepo—for I would strip the meat from his bones if you hadn’t.

  Maria decided to tell Joe only that Odarth was a Rogue Dragon; she didn’t want to give him a heart attack. Also, she could not say how a Rogue Dragon differed from a regular one, for she had not yet seen a so-called regular dragon.

  You and your friends may climb aboard, Maria. We shall fly to the battlefield, soldier and we
apon, heart to heart, mind to mind. And there, the dry riverbeds will run red with the blood of our enemies.

  Okay… A simple ‘Let’s go’ probably would’ve worked, too, Maria said.

  She waved Joe and Sherlock toward the dragon. They were both hesitant, and when Odarth swiveled her head to look at them, Maria wasn’t sure which one of them had whimpered.

  Possibly both.

  “Oh, come on, you big scaredy-cats,” Maria urged. “We’ll be fine.”

  Sherlock lifted his head and threw his ears back. It was the equivalent to a human throwing their shoulders back and standing up straight.

  Yeah, you big scaredy-cat, Sherlock said to Joe as he pushed by him. He jumped into Maria’s arms. Let’s go! Let the battle begin! Afterward, we celebrate with Dog Prom and ice cream.

  Maria smirked. Sherlock was much heavier than he’d been a week or two ago. Really gotta make him lay off the junk food. For real this time. That is, if we survive this.

  Joe walked sheepishly over to the dragon. Maria set Sherlock down between two of Odarth’s large spinal spikes and offered her hand to Joe. He took it, then pulled her close and kissed her.

  “For luck,” he said.

  Once they were settled on Odarth’s back (she’d had to secure Sherlock with Joe’s belt), Maria eased the sword into the same spot near the back of Odarth’s neck where she had stabbed her during the siege of Ashbourne.

  Odarth made no sounds of pain, and didn’t even protest.

  Once the blade melded with her scales, Maria’s head filled with fire, pain, destruction…and power.

  She sent Odarth a picture of the clearing in the Dark Forest as she eased the sword’s hilt back toward her, and Odarth took flight.

  Wind whipped at their faces and stung their eyes, and the reality hit them: The war started now.

  Chapter Eleven

  An Arachnid soldier with a post in the highest tree in the Widow’s kingdom nearly lost his balance and fell when he saw the great beast in the night sky.

  Its wings stretched from moon to moon, blotting out the light, its eyes glowing like fire.

  The guard called down to the others swarming about the Widow’s lair.

  Jinxton had been among those below, and he had heard the call as plain as day.

  “DRAGON!”

  He did not believe it—at least not until the beast’s roar shook the leaves and parted the trees to the east.

  Where Zimmy Ba’s grave is, he realized.

  His run turning into a sprint, he entered the lair. A passed out Ignatius Mangood still hung from a strand of web, and the Widow staring unblinkingly at the wizard.

  “The granddaughter is here,” Jinxton announced.

  Finally, the Widow blinked. Her black lips spread into a smile, and venom dripped from her fangs. “Good,” she cooed. “Ready your men. We fight for the music box. We fight until the death!”

  Jinxton nodded, then turned back to run out of the lair. He’d been waiting for this day for centuries. War. An actual battle I get to command. Oh, how sweet.

  He readied his soldiers, tasting the blood of his enemies in the back of his throat.

  Ignatius had not felt this much pain in all of his life. It took everything he had left not to scream and beg for mercy. He knew the Widow would not offer him any, not yet. The mercy she would finally offer him would be that of death.

  In a hazy delirium of pain and blood, he saw a vision that some might misconstrue as a delusion: Maria, with her gathered army, preparing to set out for him.

  The only problem was she didn’t know exactly where he was.

  The crystal hung around his neck, currently pressed up against the underside of his beard, which was mottled with blood.

  The Widow’s laughter boomed, sounding both far away and right inside his head. He turned to see her staring into the Blood Tree. He had not seen one of those in many, many years. The sight alone was terrifying, but not as terrifying as the situation he was in, or as terrifying as the idea of the Widow winning this war and wreaking havoc across the worlds.

  I have to do this. For Maria. For those still lost in the world in between. For all of the good left in the worlds.

  He jerked his head up so the necklace would fall down his beard, over his chin. Gravity worked with him. With all the energy he had left in his body, he opened his mouth wide and let the crystal fall into it. With his tongue, he pressed the button, jumpstarting the beacon.

  He felt the thrum of power as the crystal pulsed.

  He swallowed, knowing the pain in his future if the crystal decided not to dissolve like it was supposed to. This would ensure that the Widow didn’t take the crystal and discard it somewhere, throwing Maria off the trail. It was painful, but no worse than the pain already wracking both his mind and his body.

  As the Widow turned toward him, all Ignatius Mangood could do was hope.

  When Odarth landed in the clearing, folding her wings so she’d fit, Gelbus, Claire, and Tabby were already there. So were a gang of robed witches. Maria smiled, realizing that Frieda had pulled through.

  She did not see any Light Elves, though; after seeing how friendly E’olin had been with her grandfather, this disappointed her.

  Oh, well. I can do this with or without them. Or at least die trying—trying to do some good, just like Ignatius Apple taught me.

  Maria got down from Odarth’s back. Joe handed her Sherlock then hopped down himself.

  “That was one fun ride! We should do that again. Hell of a second date so far, Maria,” he said.

  Maria smiled at him and went over to Gelbus.

  “I’ve failed you,” the Gnome told her. He hung his head low, and Claire and Tabby patted him on the back. “The Light Elves said no; that this is our battle to fight, and ours alone.”

  “That’s not true,” a beautiful woman in ragged black robes answered. She held the same air of confidence as Frieda. “We are with you, granddaughter of Ignatius Mangood.” The woman knelt, and the others, dressed in their matching garb, followed suit and bowed their heads.

  “These are the dark witches of the northern border of the Dark Forest,” Frieda explained. “My family.”

  “You may rise,” Maria said. “Thank you for helping us. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  “We share a common enemy,” the Head Witch said. She stuck out a hand. “I am Gloria. These wonderful witches are Olivia, Asia, Petunia, and Tania. Our combined magic should be of some use to you.”

  Maria bowed. “Pleased to meet you all.” She looked back down to Gelbus. “You have not failed me, Gelbus. You being here by my side, ready to sacrifice your life for a greater good, is more than enough, my Gnome friend. And Sherlock has missed you.”

  Sherlock barked in reply.

  Gelbus looked up, his eyes watery—though he had yet to cry—and smiled.

  Maria’s army gathered around her and watched their leader intently.

  “Tonight, we put an end to the madness. Tonight, we show the world there is still some good left in it. Tonight, we will be victorious!” she yelled.

  They cried out in agreement.

  She mounted Odarth again and pulled the sword free.

  I can trust you, right?

  Maria Apple, I owe you my life. You needn’t worry, Odarth promised.

  The young witch looked back at her soldiers. “Are you ready?” she yelled.

  “Yes!” they cried.

  Claire and Tabby looked on with admiration and love and fear.

  “Then let’s go!” Maria yelled.

  Gramps’s beacon had come to her in a flurry of images. She didn’t want to call them up again, after sending them to Odarth. The dragon had cringed at their brutality as well, but now the location was known.

  She urged Odarth forward as shapes manifested from the darkness in front of her. A small jet of flame rumbled from the dragon’s mouth, about to blast forth.

  “Hold!” Maria shouted, her heart thumping. “These are not enemies.”
/>   “You are forgetting us,” E’olin said.

  Maria smiled. “I knew you’d come.”

  With him were five Light Elves, radiant in their beauty and fierce in their armor and weapons.

  “These are all I could get to join the cause,” E’olin said apologetically.

  “Better than nothing.” Claire grinned. “Glad to see you, E’olin.”

  He nodded at her.

  “Down, girl,” Tabby said, mimicking a spray bottle with her hands.

  “Oh, shut up,” Claire said, rolling her eyes, and continued smiling at him. Maria figured he probably got that a lot during his time on Earth.

  “Do you want a ride?” Maria asked E’olin and his soldiers, three men and two women.

  E’olin eyed the Rogue Dragon warily. “No, thanks, Maria. I believe we will follow.”

  Maria shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Mentally, she urged Odarth on. She didn’t slide the blade into the dragon’s neck; she trusted her. Instead, she held her sword up, looking like a picture of insanity: on the back of a Rogue Dragon, with a dog in her lap, and three humans behind her.

  Odarth walked on, shaking the ground. Birds took to the sky, and Sherlock barked at them, but the wanderers stayed low.

  They were heading to the Widow’s lair, where Gramps’s crystal guided them.

  Through the Dark Forest they went, and they did not go quietly. When a Rogue Dragon was among the party, there was no such thing as going quietly.

  Odarth bulldozed entire trees over, making a path back to the clearing on the southern edge of the forest.

  On the journey to the Widow’s lair, to retrieve both the Jewel of Deception and Maria’s grandfather, Claire sniffed deeply and gagged.

  Maria’s eyes narrowed. She smelled it, too. Good. That smell meant the Arachnids were close.

  A Light Elf shouted from behind them as branches snapped and broke.

  Maria turned around just in time to see black figures descending from the trees on glittering, gossamer webs.

  The Arachnids.

  Maria stood, and Joe, Claire, and Tabby followed suit. Claire and Tabby raised the Orc blades they had brought with them from Ashbourne, and Joe brought up the sword that Agnes had gifted him.