The Midwest Wanderer

by Flint Maxwell

  Suddenly, he opened his eyes and moaned.

  “Gramps, are you okay?”

  He brought a hand up to the gash, touching it gently. As he brought his fingers away and looked at them, he moaned again. They were sticky with blood.

  “What happened?”

  Frieda answered. “Interference. Something dark tried to reroute us.”

  Maria nodded. “I think I know exactly what that something dark was.”

  “Arachnid,” Gramps answered.

  “Not just any Arachnid… The Widow.” Maria shivered. “Don’t worry, I cut off one of her legs.”

  Gramps’s eyes shot wide open. “You saw her? Oh, you poor dear. I’m so sorry. I knew I should’ve never brought you along; we haven’t even faced the dragon. Oh, my—”

  “Relax, Gramps,” Maria said, grabbing his hand. “I handled myself pretty well. Me: one. The Widow: Minus one…leg.” She winked.

  It took a moment for Gramps’s stern look to melt into a smile, but eventually it did. He tried to stand up without much success. Maria and Frieda had to help steady him, but he got there mostly on his own. From his robe, he pulled out the same wand he’d used in Dominion, examining it closely.

  “All good. I’d hate to break another wand,” he said.

  “Exactly why I don’t use them,” Frieda replied.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I could handle flames as well as I could handle a wand. Much respect to you for taking the harder road.”

  Frieda smiled, and Maria thought she might’ve even blushed a little.

  Oooh, it’s like me and Claire, Sherlock said with a wink.

  “Cool it,” Maria answered. She cleared her throat and Gramps and Frieda stopped goggling each other and turned to look at Maria. Freida’s pale skin was quite flushed. “Sorry,” Maria said. “I was just wondering where the town was.” She looked up in the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Don’t see it and I don’t see a dragon, which I guess is pretty good.”

  Gramps turned toward the crop of mountains surrounding them. “That’s because we aren’t anywhere near Ashbourne. No.” He spun around, almost losing his balance. Frieda and Maria both reached out to steady him. He smiled solemnly. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He cleared his throat, touching the head wound again. “No, we must be in the mountains outside of the Land of Terran. Ashbourne is a ways over the other side. No matter. We shall just open another portal; since Maria has dispatched of the Widow for the time being, I feel it will go much smoother than before.”

  They gathered in a circle, holding hands. Sherlock clamped onto Maria’s leather jacket again. She glared at him.

  What? It tastes good. Real leather. You go, girl!

  “You chew a hole in it, you’re buying me a new one, and Dog Prom will definitely be off.”

  No worries. Sherlock showed his teeth in what he thought was a smile, but it came off as more of a snarl to Maria.

  Gramps closed his eyes and began singing the usual song in a low voice. Maria followed suit. Frieda hummed along.

  But nothing happened. No feeling of weightlessness. No traveling at the speed of light. No spider legs, either.

  Just nothing.

  “Not good,” Gramps said after a moment.

  “What?” Maria heard herself ask. Her heart plummeted to her stomach.

  “I…can’t open a portal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m more injured than I originally thought.”

  They let go of each other’s hands, but Sherlock didn’t unlatch from Maria’s jacket. She was about to shoo him away, but thought that if it kept the dog distracted, what harm was a few holes in an old leather thing she hadn’t worn in years anyway?

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Frieda said. “Rest.”

  Gramps shook his head. Now Maria knew where the stubbornness in her family apparently came from; it had rubbed off on Sherlock, too.

  “It’s not physical,” Gramps answered. “Not so much, at least. It’s magical. The Widow seems to have hit me where it hurts the most, yet I feel no pain.” He drew his wand and aimed it at a lone leaf. He mumbled something under his breath, some kind of spell. A light fizzled at the end of the wood, only glowing faintly. Maria could hardly see it in the glare of the sun.

  “No,” Gramps said. “No, this is not good.”

  Maria walked over and put her arm around him, hoping to make him feel better. “Can you open a portal, Frieda?”

  Freida shifted on her feet nervously. “I’m afraid I’ve never learned that ability. As a Woodland Witch, we channel our magical energy on the Flames of Sight. Rarely do we have reason to leave our part of the forest.”

  “Shit,” Maria muttered.

  Maria, ask me if I can.

  “No.”

  C’mon, just ask me. You never know, I might be able to save the day.

  “I know you can’t save the day because you’re a dog. Not a wizard or a witch. A talking dog, sure, but I think all dogs can probably talk, I just have the misfortune of hearing you.”

  Rude.

  Maria shrugged. “Well, can you open a portal?”

  Sherlock shook his head. No…no, I can’t.

  “Ugh. Why did we bring you?”

  “I wish I could hear your conversations,” Gramps said, a smile on his face. That smile told Maria it was all going to be okay. Somehow, some way, it would be. He could always cheer her up with just his smile.

  “Trust me,” she said, “you don’t want to hear what we talk about.”

  Gramps laughed.

  “I can try to open a portal. You say I’m powerful.”

  “No, Maria, you must not. It takes an experienced magic user to open a portal of any kind. Proper training is required. When fiddling with portals, you risk ending up in the world in between. We cannot take that risk.”

  “What do we do then? We’re just stuck here?” Good thing I didn’t set a second date in stone with Joe. It’d be really bad if I stood him up on accident.

  Sherlock was near the tree, sniffing the bark—possibly for Raffins, possibly for Gnomes, or maybe some other magical creature he wanted to make into a new enemy number one—when he turned around and whined.

  Stuck here? What about Dog Prom, Maria? Oh, no, I can’t miss it! I missed it last year.

  “There’s no— You know what, Sherlock? Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out in the end, right, Gramps?”

  Gramps was looking at the mountains. Maria followed his gaze. She saw a narrow passage slicing through them, far in the distance. These mountains stretched so high, they disappeared into the clouds. No way we can make that hike if Gramps is injured. No, Maria, have confidence. You’ve slain an Arachnid, gotten Kaylee, your former high school bully, and her goons to lay off of you…not to mention you’ve had your official first kiss. You can do anything after all that. A mountain hike will be a piece of cake. You’ll carry Gramps, if you have to.

  “There,” Gramps said. “That marks our passage. It may be a long and arduous journey, but I expected that in the first place. I just hope we aren’t too late for our Gnome friend.”

  “We won’t be,” Maria replied.

  “No worries, Ignatius,” Frieda chimed in. “I have not looked in my flames for long, but I can feel that we will be okay.”

  Gramps nodded.

  “Very well. Onward we go. Our journey awaits!” he said.

  Sherlock sat back on his haunches, tilted his head up, and howled to the sky.

  ***

  Around the time Ignatius came back with Frieda, the dark witch, opening a portal right in the middle of his living room, Salem and Agnes were closing down the ice cream shop while Lois leaned back in her chair, working on her fifth ice cream cone.

  It’s okay, I skipped dinner, she thought.

  She stood up once she finished. “Let me help, you guys,” she offered.

  Agnes waved her away. “No, no, Lois. You are our guest. Can I get you anything else?”

  Lois
smiled. She had forgotten how gracious Agnes and Salem were, how gracious Midwesterners were in general. “No, I’m okay. Thank you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at an ice cream cone again… Ah, who am I kidding? Of course, I will.”

  “You’re welcome to have as much as you like, Lois,” Salem said. He was manually sweeping the floor behind the counter. “You may not want some now, but you will in a bit.”

  Chatter came from the back room. Lois craned her head around to see the Muffler twins sitting at the card table. They were arguing about something—just like the good old days. Some habits, such as the ones Lois picked up from serving in the Silver Griffins for so long, were tough to break.

  “When do you think Ignatius will be back? I really have to get back home,” Lois said.

  Agnes and Salem shrugged almost simultaneously.

  “You know Ignatius. He probably took a wrong turn, saw a town in need of saving, and decided it was his responsibility to save them. His granddaughter is much the same way; put them together, and no cat will ever get stuck in a tree again,” Salem said. “Besides, I see you noticed the Muffler twins are here now.”

  “Unfortunately,” Lois murmured. “Sneaky bastards. Didn’t even hear them come in.”

  “Well, it is card night. We’re playing 500 Rummy. I remember how good you used to be at that.”

  “Still am,” Lois said. “Haven’t played in God knows how long.”

  “Come play a couple hands,” Agnes offered. “It’ll be fun. Like the olden days.”

  Lois exhaled. “Fine, just a couple hands. But if Ignatius isn’t back soon, we’ll have to go find him ourselves.”

  It was supposed to be a joke.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The mountain passage was no easy task, especially with a hurt grandfather. Maria and Frieda had to constantly steady him on the uneven terrain.

  Sherlock would take off up the rocks and scout ahead, then come back and give Maria the lowdown. So far, so good.

  Gramps kept mumbling about the various creatures they needed to keep their eyes peeled for, creatures Maria couldn’t pronounce nor had ever heard of before. Suffice it to say, Maria kept her free hand near the hilt of her sword.

  As they got higher and higher into the mountains, the air grew colder and the music box grew heavier; so heavy, in fact, that it felt like Maria was wearing the mountain around her neck instead of her satchel.

  They had stopped to catch their breath.

  Frieda was shivering, so she conjured up a fire in a pile of dry grass surrounded by small stones. The fire burned much brighter than it should have.

  Magic, remember, Maria?

  Her legs ached. Her head pounded. It wasn’t until the ability to teleport via one of Gramps’s portals was lost that Maria missed it. So often it seemed the people of Earth took things for granted. Maria guessed it wasn’t much different on the other world, judging by the irksome looks on both Gramps’s and Frieda’s faces. Sherlock, on the other hand, was loving the journey; sniffing everything and peeing on most everything.

  He left around the time the fire started, saying, I’m going to find us some food. He came back with a mouthful of dead bugs, depositing them on a flat rock. Voila!

  “Gross. We can’t eat that,” Maria said.

  Gramps looked on, his face turning a sickly shade of green that Maria hoped was because of the beetles and ant-like insects, rather than the damage he had sustained in the Widow’s attack.

  Why the hell not? They’re quite tasty. I only swallowed a few. Saved the rest for you guys. I think a thank you is in order here, Maria.

  “Is there anything you don’t eat?”

  Veg—

  “Vegetables, right. How could I forget? It’s the thought that counts, I guess. So thank you, Sherlock. You’re a good boy.”

  Sherlock’s tail beat at the surrounding dirt, causing a thin cloud to rise in the air and drift down the way they’d come.

  “Mountains are typically devoid of wildlife anyhow. If we were starving, we’d be out of luck, I’m afraid,” Freida said.

  Maria noticed, not for the first time, that Frieda had Gramps’s hand in her own. She wondered if this was a friendly gesture, or if there was something there between the two of them. The thought of her grandfather dating was almost as foreign to her as magic. But, then again, stranger things had happened. That was a motto she had begun to live by lately.

  “No worries,” Gramps assured them. We do not have much longer of a trek. Ashbourne is just through there.” He pointed to the mouth of a cave as big as a storefront.

  “A shortcut?” Frieda asked.

  “I’m afraid we have no other choice.”

  Ooh! I have to grab some food to-go. BRB, Sherlock said.

  “Did you just use a texting acronym instead of just saying ‘be right back?’” Maria asked, shaking her head.

  I heard Claire say it. Sue me, he said, running.

  “What has become of my dog?”

  “Come on, we must go. Sherlock will catch up with us,” Gramps said, trying to rise. He got about halfway up and then stumbled. Freida and Maria both reached out and grabbed him before he could crack his head on the rock he had been sitting on.

  “No, you need to rest,” Maria said. “I can go alone from here—well, Sherlock can come with me, so I won’t be totally alone. As for how much use he’ll be? Well, that’s debatable.”

  Gramps smiled, stuck a hand out, and brushed Maria’s hair from her face. He looked haggard, his wrinkles deeper, his eyes ringed and sagging. It broke Maria’s heart to see him like that.

  “Oh, Maria, so much like your mother. She would’ve done the same thing, and she did on more than one occasion, despite my and her husband’s warnings. She was hardheaded.”

  Maria laughed and knocked her fist lightly against her scalp. “I know where we both got it from.”

  “Exactly.” With great strain, Gramps pulled himself. “I’m as hardheaded as they come, and you are not going about this alone, Maria.”

  Freida stood up, too, a smile on her face. She put a hand on Maria’s shoulder. Her palm blazed with heat. “No, neither of you are. We can do this. We can save that town, and we can get whatever it is you need to know.”

  Maria had never felt such love and support, not when the stakes were this high. She nodded.

  “Let’s go. I’ll carry you, if I have to.”

  “It won’t come down to that, Maria,” Gramps answered. “I can already feel my strength coming back.”

  Maria sensed that wasn’t exactly the whole truth, but she didn’t say so.

  Sherlock came back as they breasted the rising landscape. Dead trees stared down at them, their branches as jagged as wicked lightning bolts. From those trees hung odd birds with large yellow eyes, watching the wanderers’ every move. Each time Maria looked up at them, noting their scaly skin and sparse feathers, she expected them to look away, but they never did. They seemed to stare into her very soul.

  “Too bad you don’t have wings,” Maria said to Sherlock as they passed one hanging upside down from a white tree branch like a bat. “Otherwise you could chase them off.”

  Oh, you don’t think I’m young and spry enough to jump up there and scare them? Sherlock retorted.

  “Not what I said, but no. No, I don’t.”

  We’ll see about that.

  Sherlock took off toward the towering white tree. He jumped and clawed up the trunk, tearing away strips of bark with his claws, but ultimately only got about half a foot off the ground. The bird-creature remained on its branch, watching Sherlock with curiosity.

  Ow, Sherlock said after he’d given up and waddled back toward Maria. You’re right; I’m too old for that. Chasing birds up trees is a puppy’s game. He stretched, putting his front paws out, dipping, and sticking his tail end up in the air. Think they have doggy chiropractors here? I don’t think they do on Earth.

  “Could always go to the V-E-T,” Maria said.

  How dare you s
pell that word in my presence, Maria?

  “Sorry.”

  This little exchange raised a chuckle out of Gramps, who was only a few feet ahead of them, steadied by Freida. That was a good sign, Maria presumed. If he was laughing, he might be getting better. She knew she would need him for the rest of the journey, but that was nothing compared to the grand scheme of things—she would need her grandfather for the rest of her life, or at least as long as he walked the worlds. The thought of losing him… well, she couldn’t fathom that.

  They reached the mouth of the cave no more than an hour later, though Maria thought it felt longer than that. Time had a funny way of moving on different planets, with different revolutions around their sun, and, in Oriceran’s case, their two moons.

  “That’s not creepy at all.” Maria was observing the cave’s opening, which was completely devoid of light. It was so black inside the air seemed to shimmer.

  “The Cave of Delusion,” Gramps said.

  “Is that what they call it? Sounds like something out of The Princess Bride. You know, like the Dread Pirate Roberts or the Cliffs of Insanity?”

  Gramps put his hands up as if to say I’m innocent. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t name such a thing. And whoever would name it that is obviously delusional.”

  “Well, why do they call it that anyway?”

  “Because you sometimes see things in all the blackness,” Freida answered. “But you mustn’t worry.” She snapped her fingers and a spark of flame shot out from her palm, hovering there, not burning her flesh. “We have light to guide us.”

  Maria suddenly wished her magic was as easy as snapping her fingers. All in due time, my dear, her grandpa’s voice said in her mind.

  ***

  Maria didn’t see anything inside of the Cave of Delusion, but she heard something.

  They all did.

  It was high laughter, like that of a person suffering from insanity.

  Maria looked at her grandfather. Judging by the way his mouth turned into a thin line, she’d known for a fact he heard it.

  “Ignore it. Keep moving on,” he said softly.