Midwest Magic Chronicles Boxed Set

by Flint Maxwell

  How I was raised.

  “Oh, you take that back, Sherlock!”

  In all seriousness, I really have to pee. I’m seeing yellow…

  “Too much information.” Maria turned back to the Centaur. He was looking on with pure fascination.

  “Perhaps I should visit Earth one of these days. You people seem so…interesting,” the Centaur said.

  ‘You people’? What the hell does he mean, ‘you people’? If I didn’t have to pee so badly, I would bite his horse nipples off! Put on a shirt, bro!

  Maria lowered her voice, shaking her head. “Horse nipples…?”

  What? They’re out there for everyone to see. We’re all thinking it, I’m just man enough to say it!

  “Oh, boy,” Maria said. “Okay, let’s try this again.” Her hand came up, and this time the Centaur half-slapped her palm and half-gripped it. “Ah, well, good enough, I guess. But probably best if you stayed off Earth until the portals or whatever they are line up and open. Earthlings are not too fond of things they don’t understand. I mean, most countries don’t even get along even though they’re all the same race…the human race.”

  “Well said, Maria,” Gramps said. “I’ve taught you well.”

  Well, I still don’t like Gnomes, and I’m starting to not like Centaurs with their exposed nips and chiseled abs and horse bodies… Sherlock said.

  “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Maria said in a singsong voice.

  Sherlock wrinkled his nose. It’s just not fair! They get the best of both worlds. Why can’t I be half-human, half-dog? I bet I’d get all the babes and still have an appetite for delicious dead squirrels and garbage.

  “Yuck, careful what you wish for, pal.”

  She could feel the conversation getting out of hand. The Centaur was studying Maria with utter fascination, while Gramps sat back and watched it all. A passing of the torch; that’s what it was. Maria knew. He was giving her the reins, the keys to the kingdom…unlike the keys to his Firebird. Ah, well, better than nothing. So it was time for Maria to rein everyone in. She had people to save—a whole village.

  “Where can we find this Gelbus?” she asked.

  Gramps gave a reassuring nod. She loved that old man, yet for some reason she wished he hadn’t come. When they were spotted by the Arachnids, and Tabby had almost had her head squeezed off, Gramps moved a bit slower than he had on Earth. Maybe it has something to do with the tides of the two moons, but I thought he’d be stronger, she thought. No, don’t worry about him—you can’t worry about him. You saw what he is capable of firsthand. He will be fine.

  But the lingering feeling that he wouldn’t—that none of them would be protected on this great journey was ever-present.

  Still, what was Maria to do? Give up?

  Hell no.

  That was not in her blood, not in her DNA. Ignatius Apple had taught her well, and she was a good student.

  “This is where things get tricky,” the Centaur said. “The last I heard, Gelbus was somewhere not for the faint of heart.”

  “Good thing we are not faint of heart. Our hearts are strong.” Maria frowned.

  “I do not doubt that, Earthling, so I will tell you. Gelbus fled to Ves Ielan.”

  Of course, the name meant nothing to Maria, but Gramps squirmed and went a few shades paler. If he had gone only one shade, Maria wouldn’t have noticed. Alas, he didn’t, so she had.

  “Ves Ielan? What is that? Why is it so terrible?”

  “I cannot say for sure,” the Centaur said. “For I would not set foot within fifty miles of that dreaded place.” He raised the book. “Now our deal is completed, and I have warfare and ancient Centaur generals to read about. I thank you, Maria, Ignatius, and Earth Dog Sherlock, for your help and graciousness. May our paths cross again.”

  With that, the Centaur galloped silently down the length of the shelves and turned the corner at a sign that Maria thought was in Elvish and didn’t understand, though it depicted tables and chairs—it was probably where one went to read in peace.

  Another strange thought crossed her mind: How will the Centaur get the book back up there without the help of the Gnomes?

  Will he just leave it on the table, and the Gnomes will put it up themselves? Gramps had mentioned something about Gnomes’ secret magic and their ropes and harnesses, but that seemed like a lot of work. Maybe they can levitate it up there? Whatever. It isn’t important. What was important was how frightened her grandfather, whom she had never seen this frightened, looked.

  “Gramps?”

  “Yes, my dear Maria?” His voice was paper-thin.

  “Ves Ielan can’t be that bad, can it? I mean, I’ve seen you walk through the North Side of Akron without so much as batting an eye.”

  “Oh, Maria,” he wheezed, “the North Side of Akron is a fairytale land compared to Ves Ielan.”

  “I don’t believe that. The North Side is pretty bad.”

  Gramps just shook his head.

  “Come, Maria, we will discuss these matters outside of the castle.”

  He went the opposite direction the Centaur had gone, and Maria followed.

  As the stairs began to manifest out of thin air, Maria looked back and realized Sherlock was nowhere in sight.

  “Go ahead, Gramps. I gotta find Sherlock.”

  “That dratted dog. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t just get a cat. It’s more fitting for a wizard, wouldn’t you say?” He paused and looked like he couldn’t help but smile. “Who am I kidding? Sherlock is much better than a cat. A little high-strung for his age, but at least he doesn’t cough up hairballs and claw the furniture, am I right?”

  Maria was already halfway back into the library. A few Gnomes gave her a dirty look. She thought about flipping them the bird, but ultimately decided against it. They wouldn’t know what it meant, not here on Oriceran.

  The Gnomes! The thought came into her head like a meteor hurtling straight for Earth. Follow the Gnomes!

  Sure enough, as Maria got deeper into the library, the place shimmering while it came out of whatever invisibility spell it was currently under, Maria saw what looked like an Oriceran version of a circulation desk. It was much larger than any she’d ever seen on Earth; so wide that about twenty Gnomes were manning it—Or Gnoming it. A handful of the Gnomes had gathered at one section of the large circle. Their arms were up; some held books and were swatting. Others just shook balled fists at the foreign creature currently on top of the counter.

  That creature, of course, was Sherlock. He was growling and barking at the Gnomes.

  “Sherlock!” Maria shouted.

  But she was too late. He’d said he had to pee, and apparently, he’d meant it. He lifted his leg, and a stream of yellow splashed a few unfortunate Gnomes’ bowler hats and infuriated flowers.

  Look, Maria! I’m doing it! They can take my balls, but they can’t take my animalistic instincts!

  Maria sprinted over and tackled him off of the desk before he could drown the poor Gnomes with his urine. Somehow, she managed to get only a couple drops on her jeans. If Sherlock had pissed on the music box, she would’ve been as infuriated as the flowers atop the Gnomes’ bowler hats.

  Sherlock was quick to get to his feet, much quicker than normal, but Maria was on him, grabbing his collar and guiding him out of the library.

  “I’m sorry!” she shouted. “So sorry!”

  “BANNED!” one of the Gnomes shouted back. His hat was off and in his hand. He shook it, and drops of yellow liquid went in all directions.

  “I mean it! We’re sorry!”

  I’m not sorry. God, I feel liberated! I feel like a puppy again.

  “You’re acting like a puppy, Sherlock. I’m disappointed.”

  Eh, it’s better than me killing a Gnome, right? Pee washes off, but death is forever, as a wise man once said.

  “I don’t know any wise men who’ve said anything remotely close to that. Good try.”

  Cries of “BANNED! BANNED!” followed
them all the way out of the library and to the steps.

  “I honestly don’t know if I want to come back to a library where little creatures with beaks big enough to swallow my hand whole are hiding in their shelves,” Maria said.

  And I don’t think I want to come back to a place where pissing on Gnomes only pisses them off. Mary’s Gnome across the street doesn’t care when I pee on him, you know? Sherlock said.

  “Well, Sherlock, you and I both know that Mary’s Gnome is an inanimate object.”

  So are dead squirrels, he argued.

  “I don’t…really know what to say. I guess you’re right; technically, a dead squirrel is not a moving squirrel, but it’s disrespectful, man!”

  Kind of like peeing on real Gnomes is disrespectful?

  Maria nodded. “Now you are getting it, my canine friend. Though, I think you’ve known that for a long time. You’re not that stupid.”

  Sherlock stuck his tongue out then said, You know what they say: stupid dog, stupid owners.

  “Real nice, but I don’t think they say that too often. Again, good try.”

  Gramps was waiting for them on a middle step that looked to be suspended in midair. “I see you found him.”

  And I feel so much better! Still gotta empty the rest of my bladder, but that little bit I let out freed me up. In fact, I’m kind of thirsty now.

  “Oh, c’mon, Sherlock, save it for when we get outside.”

  I don’t know if I can. Are there any Gnomes around? Sherlock looked back up the steps, and Maria followed his gaze, but there were no Gnomes in sight, none at all.

  They went down the rest of the stairs without passing anyone else, thankfully. Maria was glad, because she didn’t want Sherlock to urinate on an Elf by accident, and get their membership to the wonderful invisible castle revoked, too. She quite liked the castle.

  “Through the doors,” Gramps said.

  They traveled the same field from before until they were well away from the castle. Sherlock finished his bathroom duties, and Gramps handed Maria her sword back.

  “Now we can discuss our plans,” Gramps said.

  Chapter Seven

  Ignatius checked his wristwatch as Maria and Sherlock waited patiently for their discussion to begin. The watch was synchronized to Earth and Oriceran time—a sort of worlds clock. Not much time had passed since they had portaled to the very spot they stood, but one glance at Maria, and Ignatius knew she would not last much longer. She may have her mother’s blood coursing through her, she may be brave and valiant and all things that make up an honorable warrior, but she was exhausted beyond belief. The purple rings under her eyes made her look like she’d been punched, she was constantly yawning, and her posture had become stooped.

  She is only nineteen, Ignatius. Hardly an adult. Two days ago, her biggest concerns involved popcorn; now the fate of an entire world rests on her shoulders. My posture would be stooped, too.

  “Gramps?”

  He started.

  “Oh, sorry, sorry, just trying to get my thoughts in order. It’s been a rough couple of days, hasn’t it?”

  “You’re telling me,” Maria answered, yawning again. Sherlock mimicked her, though Ignatius thought it was purely out of infatuation, not lethargy. Ever since he had brought Sherlock home over a decade ago, Maria and he had been inseparable. The Bloodhound had proven his worth with his ability to sniff out nearly anything—dark magic, included—but it was the bond between his granddaughter and the dog that really made Ignatius feel like he had chosen the right puppy. Sure, he could be quite ornery at times, digging in the trashcan, bringing home dead animals as presents, and, as of late, urinating on Gnomes, but none of that bothered Ignatius, because Sherlock was family.

  “Oh, Grandfatherrrrrr…”

  This time, Ignatius didn’t startle. He just turned to Maria and smiled softly.

  “The plans?” Maria asked again. She then looked down at Sherlock and chuckled. The dog must’ve made a snide comment—turned out he was quite good at that.

  “The plans are simple, my dear,” Ignatius said, turning a watchful eye on Sherlock, who did not shrink beneath Ignatius’s gaze. “You shall go on home, and I will visit Ves Ielan in search of the Gnome Gelbus.”

  Maria’s forehead wrinkled, her mouth frowned. “What!? No way. This isn’t your quest. It’s our quest.”

  “Maria, dear, as powerful as you’ve become, I don’t believe you are ready for the horrors of Ves Ielan just yet. You need rest. Besides, have you forgotten about the nice gentlemen who sought you out at Salem’s with a bouquet of roses already? He will be waiting for you soon enough.”

  “But—” Maria protested, and Ignatius cut her off.

  Ah, she is so much like my dear Zimmy.

  “No buts, Maria. A shared quest such as ours requires many moving parts. Everyone must pull their own weight.

  Maria was shaking her head. “No, Gramps, I can’t.”

  “You must and you will. I, as leader of this quest, order you.” He raised his voice to a steady boom. Those back at the invisible Elven castle surely heard the drifting echoes of his words.

  “Why? I’m okay, I promise! I can fend for myself.” Maria’s hands shook, but her face was fearful.

  She is scared, worried because she cares about you—an old wizard from a forgotten village. It is more than you deserve, Ignatius.

  “You may very well have to fend for yourself before our journey is over, but until then, go back home to Earth and rest. Check on Tabitha. Rest some more. And enjoy your date with that nice young man. Be normal while you still can, Maria.”

  “I’m not normal. I never was. Normal is boring.”

  Ignatius couldn’t help himself. He chuckled.

  “You are right about that, but I don’t mean normal in the same sense that you do. There is Earth normal, where you work a nine-to-five with health insurance, dental insurance, and a 401k, and then there’s normal-normal, as in you don’t communicate with spirits trapped in the world between or Bloodhounds, and lastly, there is nineteen-year-old normal, where you go on dates and laugh with your friends and enjoy your life. I want that for you, Maria. I want you to not fear or worry. I want you to be nineteen-year-old normal.”

  Maria smiled, but there was still rebellion in her eyes; eyes that were the same shade as her mother’s.

  Zimmy, I’ve lost you already; I’m so sorry, but I cannot lose another, he thought.

  The wind blew. It had a sharpness to it that reminded him of the beginning of an Ohio winter.

  “Go, Maria. I will be back with the information and when I have it, I will need you to save the village. I will need you for the most important part, my dear. You are not safe here with the music box. There are too many after you.”

  “But—”

  Sherlock suddenly barked. Maria leaned down to talk to him.

  “You think so?” she asked.

  Sherlock nodded. That was easy enough to understand.

  “Fine,” Maria said, looking back to Ignatius. “I’ll go back…for now. But if you die, I’m gonna kill you!”

  Ignatius chuckled again. “You have your mother’s sense of humor.”

  Maria said nothing. She looked longingly up to the rising sun and purplish sky.

  Ignatius raised his hand and held it out to her. Glaring at it, she sighed, but she finally took it. Then each of them took one of Sherlock’s paws as he sat up on his hind legs, his droopy eyes watchful. The circle was closed, and the singing began.

  Not long after, a portal was opened, and Ignatius was looking into the living room of his house, where his comfy recliner sat in front of his television, its screen dark and devoid of The Young and the Restless and General Hospital. Ah, how he longed for the comfort of his own home, for the warmth of the blankets on his lap, and a cold Coca-Cola nearby that he could sip at his own leisure.

  He looked away, back at Maria. “Go on,” he said. “The both of you.”

  Sherlock padded up to him and sat on his ha
unches. He put his paw up. This stunned Ignatius. He had never done this before. The shaking trick was exclusive to Maria.

  “He wants me to tell you he loves you,” Maria said.

  A tear welled up in Ignatius’s eye. “I love you, too, Sherlock. You’re a good boy.”

  Sherlock’s tail wagged, fanning the long grass in every direction.

  “And I love you, Maria, my dear. I will see you soon.”

  She nodded, a sad smile on her face.

  With that, she and Sherlock disappeared through the portal. It closed moments after, as the song playing inside of Ignatius’s head stilled. He looked out to the distant mountains and prayed to any Gods that would listen to keep Maria and Sherlock safe, and to help guide him on this journey.

  Maria looked back over her shoulder, at her grandfather standing there in that alien field.

  Then the portal closed, and he was gone; she hoped not forever.

  Oh, thank God, home sweet, home. Let me out, I need to use the bathroom.

  “Again?” Maria snapped, and then she sighed. “Fine.”

  They went out the back door and onto the porch. Sherlock took off into the tall grass. An odd feeling came over Maria, and she turned around.

  She could see the marks from Malakai, when he’d tried to break in and get the music box only days ago; it had felt so much longer than that.

  I guess that’s what traveling across worlds does to you.

  Sherlock started barking, and Maria’s heart dropped into her stomach. The image of Malakai was too fresh in her mind, but as she looked out at her frolicking dog—a word she’d learned from Gramps—she realized he was only barking at a moth flapping its wings through their backyard.

  She shook her head and laughed.

  It was early in the morning. She still had tons of time to get ready for her date with Joe. As much as she wanted to use that time to help Gramps, she couldn’t deny how sleepy she was. She didn’t just want it; her body craved it.

  “C’mon, dummy!” she yelled out to Sherlock, who stopped snapping at thin air as the moth floated high above him, and looked sheepishly back to her.