The Midwest Wanderer

by Flint Maxwell

  Maria let out a scream and found herself losing her balance.

  The dagger! Pull it free, she thought.

  That meant risking a fall.

  Better than having some weird creature bite your nose off, Maria. Should’ve never offered it a dog treat. It’s not even a dog.

  Now the creature was coming for her, its rotten-pink tongue lolling from between those jagged teeth.

  Maria wasted no more time. She reached for the dagger on her belt, knowing there was no way in hell that she could actually stab the creature if it came down to it.

  The creature flew through the air, covering the rest of the distance between its nest and Maria, but as soon as she brandished the dagger—its whiteness shining in the dark shadows of the towering books—the creature stopped dead and fell to the shelf, writhing.

  “Whoa,” Maria wheezed.

  The look of hatred in the bird-creature’s eyes was alarming. It did more than hate the blade…it utterly despised it.

  The creature slinked back to the shadows with a low growl. Once all Maria could see of it was its glowing, hateful eyes, she tilted a few books to block the creature from her view. The growling grew louder.

  “Fuck this,” Maria said. She wasn’t tired anymore; adrenaline coursed through her. She climbed up and over the shelf, hoping the little beast wouldn’t latch onto her ankle. That would be the worst.

  It didn’t happen.

  She reached the top shelf, quickly scanning the books. It took her about twenty seconds to find the Centaur’s book. Amazing what a little fear can do to you, she thought. She tucked the book into her belt, causing it to protrude very far out.

  “Okay, I’m coming down!” she shouted toward the floor at the top of her lungs. It hadn’t really occurred to her that the Gnomes might hear, but none did; she was much too high up in the air.

  Instead of going down the same way she had come, she shimmied to the left, hoping to avoid the creature she’d hidden with the books. She also hoped that there were no others—but she knew that was a long shot.

  When she was about three-quarters of the way down, she lost her balance.

  “NO!” she screamed.

  But it was too late.

  She fell, feeling weightless. The floor and the wide eyes of Gramps and Sherlock rushed up to meet her—

  A neigh sliced through the air, and she didn’t hit the floor at all. Instead, she hit the back of the Centaur, landing the wrong way, so her face was near his tail.

  WHOA! Sherlock sounded. She sticks the landing! I give it nine out of ten. Now back to you, Mark!

  Maria looked up, her breath knocked out of her and her heart beating off of the charts. “You’re not funny, Sherlock.”

  I think I am, that’s all that matters.

  “Maria, are you all right?” Gramps asked, rushing over to the Centaur’s side.

  She sat up. “It could’ve been much worse,” she said. “What, with the little creature trying to bite my face off, and falling, I guess I’m pretty good, all things considered.”

  Gramps grimaced. “Ah, you met the Raffins, eh?”

  “That was a Raffin!? Geez, Sherlock, I’m sorry for patronizing you about pestering the Raffin back near the forest. That was not a pleasant creature.”

  See? I know what I’m doing!

  She patted the Centaur’s horseback. “Thanks for breaking my fall, pal.”

  “Anytime. Did you get the book?”

  Maria hopped down and pulled the book free from her belt, just now realizing the corner had dug pretty deep into her lower abdomen. It would definitely leave a mark; better than Humpty Dumpty-ing all over the Light Elves’ library floor.

  “Yep,” Maria said. “Got it right here.” She handed it to the Centaur, whose face lit up in pure enjoyment. She’d never seen such a happy Centaur before in her life…of course, she’d actually never seen a Centaur in the flesh up to that point, either

  “Oh, thank you, Maria! You have made my day! I’m glad to have met you kind people.” He was smiling wide, showcasing his human-like teeth.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. I live to serve. Yada-yada, all that stuff, now give us the information we need.”

  The smile disappeared.

  Gramps and Sherlock had crowded closer around Maria and the Centaur.

  “What’s wrong?” Gramps asked.

  He lied, that’s what’s wrong. Never trust a talking half-man, half-horse. Only trust dogs…Bloodhounds in particular.

  “Shush,” Maria said.

  What? I’m not wrong. Watch!

  The Centaur scratched the back of his head with the book, which showed a particularly angry Centaur on the front, holding a sword. “I fear the information I have is not the best information, but it is information nonetheless. It is more than the Gnomes are willing to give you.”

  “Then spill it, friend,” Gramps said.

  “And I fear it may not be worth Maria risking her life,” the Centaur continued.

  “Now you say it,” Maria said.

  “No matter. What’s done is done, friend. Now hold up your end of the bargain.” Gramps was looking impatient.

  “Fine,” the Centaur said. “As you know, I’ve spent many moons here. This place has become a second home to me of sorts—especially since my own people look at me differently now that I’ve educated myself.”

  Get on with it, Sherlock said.

  And, as if the Centaur heard Sherlock, he did get on with it. “Not long ago, a Gnome was fired from the library for his drinking problem. When he would get drunk off that fine Elvish stuff, his tongue would loosen, and he would spill all kinds of secrets. His name is Gelbus.”

  “So we find this Gnome?” Maria asked her grandfather.

  He held up a hand as if to say, Let the Centaur finish.

  “You probably won’t even have to get him drunk, for he is most always deep in his cups these days. Not to mention the animosity he feels for the Gnome order. It was a nasty dispute; they had to call an escort for him. He went kicking and screaming, swearing he’d get his revenge. That was just the alcohol talking, we all knew. Gelbus was a gentle Gnome—one of my favorites, in fact. He often looked the other way when he caught me reading deep in the stacks, where a Centaur shouldn’t have been. I do miss him.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” Maria said. “We find the Gnome, hope he’s drunk, and if he’s not, we just buy him a few rounds of—wait, what the hell do the people of Oriceran drink? Beer, vodka?”

  “Ale and wine is Gelbus’s drink of choice,” the Centaur answered. “Get the little Gnome a pint, and he’ll be off his rocker for the better part of the night.”

  Maria raised a hand toward the Centaur.

  He only stared at it.

  “What, they don’t high five here on Oriceran?” Maria said.

  What kind of place is this? Sherlock added, padding over to Maria, sitting like a good dog and putting his paw out to showcase the classic Shake trick. Maria smiled at him and slapped his paw.

  Yeah, that’s how it’s done, horse-freak!

  “Why are you always so bitter?”

  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, wel
l, 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.