Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  With his paws, the Willen waved her over and pointed around the corner. Maria’s hand went to the hilt of her sword. She heard gruff voices now—loud, and clear as a cloudless day.

  “Cell check! One wrong movement and you’ll get a finger chopped off, understood?”

  No voice answered in return.

  The anger rose like fire in Maria’s throat. She gritted her teeth.

  Leroy shook his head. “Terrible beings, they are. If I were a violent Willen, I’d do them in myself. Alas, I am not.”

  “Luckily, I am…violent, not a Willen.”

  Leroy nodded. “Now we must part, Maria. I wish you the best of luck on the rest of your journey and do hope for your success. I do not like avoiding these Dragon Tongue, but where the townspeople of Ashbourne might curse me or shoo me away, these Dragon Tongue wouldn’t hesitate to burn my flesh with their fire in the very spot they catch me.”

  “Thank you, Leroy. Don’t worry; these Dragon Tongue will be gone in no time. I just need to get my—”

  A bark cut her off.

  Hope struck her like a lightning bolt. Sherlock! Thank God he’s alive.

  Leroy must’ve seen how her eyes lit up, because he waved her on with his weird paws, and that even weirder smile on his face.

  “Go, go, Maria. And for the world’s sake, be safe!” he whispered.

  Maria plunged forward into the unknown, her own safety the furthest thing from her mind. All that mattered were the lives of the ones she cared about and the trapped townspeople she planned to save.

  Chapter Five

  Gelbus Cogspark had been in worse prisons since his removal from the Gnomes. The one he was currently sitting in, with its brick walls and small sliver of a window that offered a peek at the brilliant night sky, was like a castle’s throne room compared to some.

  He was no dummy; he knew what the so-called Dragon Tongue wanted. But they were dumb. A Gnome could never spill their secrets. Their lips were sealed as tightly as the vault in which the secrets were kept.

  Sure, Gelbus had been known to say a little more than he should when under the influence of a few drinks—which was why he was in a cell in some small, lakeside town, instead of in the cozy confines of the Light Elves’ library—but who wasn’t prone to that?

  It wasn’t like Gelbus had actually ever spilled the full secrets. He might’ve hinted at one thing or another, but most minds were too dense to pick up on those hints—and it was against his DNA to reveal those secrets. He thought the real reason he was removed from his duty was because they flat-out didn’t like him.

  The suckers.

  He just hoped the next Dragon Tongue interrogators weren’t as dumb as the last. He had come right out and said he couldn’t tell any secrets…but had added on a ‘yet,’ mainly just to keep himself alive.

  The longer they think I’m still of use to them, the longer my life will be.

  From somewhere in the dungeon, a dog barked. Gelbus wasn’t a fan of dogs, and hoped that one would stay where it was.

  Gelbus’s stomach grumbled. He was hungry and damn near dying of thirst, but most of all, he was tired. Exhausted, really.

  He rolled over on the straw-covered stone floor, which was about as cold as a slab of ice, and tried to will himself to sleep. A few moments passed, each one filled with the dog’s uproarious barking.

  Nope, no sleep for Gelbus.

  He rolled over again to sit up, but something caught his eye, causing him to double take. When his gaze settled on the grate in the floor for the second time, he jumped, his heart clapping in his chest.

  “Hello?” he whispered.

  Between the grate’s small squares, Gelbus saw a person—a young woman with wild dark hair. Mud and muck splotched her garb. Dirt streaked her fair skin. She was, as far as humanoid creatures went, quite pretty.

  No time to think of women and their looks, Gelbus! Ask her who she is!

  But it seemed that Gelbus’s tongue had become knotted and his throat had closed. He could hardly breathe, let alone speak at all.

  Turned out he didn’t need to. The girl spoke up for him.

  In a soft whisper, but still in a voice that commanded respect and oozed leadership, the girl said, “Glad I know a Gnome when I see one. You must be Gelbus?”

  Still, his tongue was twisted, so he nodded.

  “All right, Gel—can I call you ‘Gel’? I feel like we’re already on a nickname basis level of friendship, with all the shit you’ve put me through.”

  Who is this girl?

  She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m Maria Apple. I’m a witch, but I didn’t know that until a few days ago—Earth days, that is. Yes, I’m from Earth. I know, I know, probably a big shock. A Centaur from the Light Elves’ library sent me after you because you know secrets that I need.”

  Why do so many people covet my secrets? All I’d wanted to do was share a nice night with my old friend Elargo, have a few drinks, reminisce on old times, but no. These damn secrets always came back to bite me in the bottom.

  Finally, Gelbus found his voice. It was mainly out of annoyance that he was able to answer. “I cannot give you the secrets. It is in my DNA. Do you know what DNA is, young lady?”

  “Deoxyribonucleic acid,” Maria Apple answered. “Yeah, I paid attention in biology class. Guess you can call me a nerd.”

  Gelbus smirked. He didn’t know the girl, didn’t know if she was actually real and not some hunger-induced hallucination, but he was beginning to like her—real or not.

  “Well, see, we are really out of options here,” Maria continued. “I got a village of people trapped in the world in between who I need to get out. From what I’ve gathered in my travels, this will not be an easy task. We figured a Gnome like you—”

  “Like me?” Gelbus scoffed accusingly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  The girl under the floor shifted her eyes away from his guiltily.

  “Do you mean a Gnome relieved of his duties? A Gnome who likes to drink…maybe a bit too much? Well, I see nothing wrong with that, seeing as how I can’t spill any secrets because…IT’S…IN…MY…DNA!”

  “Quiet,” Maria hissed. “I’m sorry. Like I said, we are desperate. Honestly, I kind of realized there was a chance you’d never spill any secrets. But judging by that black eye and swollen nose, you aren’t giving the Dragon Tongue what they want, either, eh?”

  Gelbus shook his head. She’s a smart girl.

  “But you are stringing them along. Good idea.”

  Reflexively, Gelbus said, “Thank you.”

  “Besides,” Maria continued, “at a certain point, mainly after the whole ordeal with the Cave of Delusion and all that crap, it wasn’t so much about getting you to talk as it was about saving you and a whole town of people before a Rogue Dragon could really put the ‘ash’ in ‘Ashbourne’.”

  Gelbus chuckled softly. “A Rogue Dragon? That would be the day.”

  “That’s what I hope.”

  “Wait—did you say you were here to save me?”

  Maria nodded.

  “Well, I think we better get on with it,” Gelbus said.

  “Yeah, about that…I don’t exactly have a plan.”

  Gelbus sighed. This is hopeless.

  “Yet,” Maria added. “I’m looking for other prisoners: an old man, a younger- but-still-kinda-old-compared-to-me woman, and a dog.”

  “Dog?”

  “Yeah,” Maria said, sounding hopeful. “Do you know who I’m talking about?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. That damn dog has been getting on my last nerves. Can’t a Gnome just die in peace?”

  “Could you point me—”

  Heavy footsteps cut her off.

  “Hide,” Gelbus hissed. He rolled over and played it off like he was sleeping. The cell door creaked open; Gelbus could practically hear the flakes of rust crackling off of its hinges.

  “Up, Gnome,” a gruff voice said.

  “Huh?” Gelbus said sleepily. He thought
he faked it pretty good. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl slink off into the shadows, out of the view of the blood-crusted grate.

  Slowly, Gelbus started to rise, but still wasn’t looking at the man who’d entered his cell.

  His slow movement irritated his captor, and a strong hand gripped him on the back of the neck, ripping him up from the floor. Gelbus hit the wall with an ‘oomph,’ knocking the breath from his lungs at a rapid pace.

  When his vision cleared, he wasn’t looking at a guard he recognized. This was someone new, someone rougher—apparently.

  More footsteps echoed down the corridor. In came two more guards in their black cloaks, with their fiery eyes. Between them, they wheeled a barrel. Gelbus could recognize a barrel like that from a mile away—it was a wine barrel.

  He could practically smell the sweet nectar within, even through the wood.

  The guard whose rough hands were bunching up Gelbus’s dirty suit coat let go, and the Gnome sank down the wall, hitting the floor with a thump. The guard then took out a glass as the others tilted the barrel upright.

  “We heard you like to drink, Gelbus,” the lead guard said. His forked tongue wiggled to accentuate every syllable, giving his speech a slight lisp.

  “Who doesn’t?” Gelbus answered.

  The guard ignored his remark. “And you look like you’re quite parched. Is your throat dry, my Gnome friend?”

  Two moons, yes!

  But he answered with a resounding, “No.” Then he had to look away from the wine barrel; it was almost too much. He could taste the sweetness on the tip of his tongue, feel it spilling down his throat, feel his head thrumming from the alcohol.

  No, I must resist. Even if I wanted to spill the secrets, I can’t. If I tell them that, though, I may die of thirst.

  “How about a taste?” the guard asked. “The closer you get to telling us what we need to know, the more wine we will spill down your throat. Understood?”

  Gelbus nodded. He hated himself then because he knew what was going to happen; he was going to die because of his penchant for wine.

  “So, how do we do it?”

  “That’s quite a personal question, don’t you suppose? Something your parents should’ve covered with you when you were a young—”

  The guard backhanded Gelbus hard enough for his vision to go fuzzy.

  He brought his fingers up to his enflamed skin. Ouch. Very ouch. “I guess you don’t have much of a sense of humor,” Gelbus said aloud. He tasted his own blood in his mouth. “That’s okay. Didn’t really expect you to.”

  “Pour him a glass.”

  One of the guards stuck a pump into an opening on the side of the barrel. He pressed once, and dark purple nectar spilled out. Gelbus licked his lips.

  “Here,” the main guard said, handing Gelbus the glass once he had it in his possession.

  Gelbus eyed it hesitantly. When the guard didn’t pull it away, he reached for it. That’s when the guard tilted the glass and let the wine splash on the dirty floor.

  It was a sucker punch to Gelbus’s gut.

  “I have no problem letting the entire barrel drain into the sewers, my friend. Somehow, I think seeing wine wasted would hurt you more than any physical harm we could inflict on you. Am I right?”

  Gelbus didn’t answer. He just watched the river of violet run down the sloped floor toward the drain where the girl that may or may not have been a hallucination had stood.

  Slowly, Gelbus’s heart broke.

  “He’s not going to talk. Dump it,” the guard ordered, flicking his head toward the other two guards.

  They nodded. One took out a flat, iron bar and began to pry open the top of the barrel, both he and the wood straining. Suddenly, the top gave, and wine sloshed out with the movement, making a slapping sound as it hit the floor and traveled toward the drain.

  “Wait!” Gelbus said.

  A smile spread across the main guard’s face.

  “I’ll talk.”

  The guard put up a hand, and the others tipped the barrel of wine back to its proper place. “Go on…” the main guard prompted.

  Gelbus measured the words in his head carefully. These very well could be the last ones he’d ever speak; he had to make them count.

  After a few seconds—seconds that he did not have to lose—he said, “The only secrets I know are about your mother. I don’t suppose you want to know those, do you? They’re quite naughty.”

  The guards stared at the Gnome, probably wondering how a creature whose life was in their hands could be so stupid.

  Gelbus just smirked, taking it all in.

  All was quiet for a moment, though he could sense their rage boiling below the surface, ready to explode. The main guard’s face went from ashy pale to a heated red. Suddenly, flames erupted from his fingertips and shot out toward Gelbus.

  The Gnome winced, trying his best to shrink up against the wall. The fire licked at his face. An instant sheen of sweat dampened his forehead, and he smelled burning hairs—probably his mustache, or Moons forbid, his thick hair.

  “You think you are clever, Gnome?”

  Gelbus shrugged and nodded—not the best idea.

  The flames jabbed at him again, sending searing pain all up his body, before pulling back.

  “Your last interrogators must’ve been soft on you. But I, Macran, am not like your last interrogators.”

  “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Macran yelled out. The flames from his fingertips crossed in the air, combining to take on the look of a great, fiery sword.

  Gelbus closed his eyes, trying to picture his life before the darkness took him.

  This is it, Gelby, old boy. You’ve had a good run. Remember all the fun, all the knowledge, all the friends…

  The whoosh of the sword coming at him stilled his blood. With his eyes still closed, he bit his tongue hard enough to wince in pain. He was expecting death.

  But it never came.

  The roar of the fire and the heat went away.

  This must be death. Huh, I didn’t even feel a thing.

  “What is it?” Macran demanded.

  Drats!

  “Hunter is gathering us all near the lake. There’s been a big development in the resurrection,” a foreign voice said.

  Gelbus now opened his eyes. Another Dragon Tongue, this one lowly and dressed in tattered, graying robes, had entered the cell. A worried look was on his face.

  “Come, come! He seems close to anger,” the lowly guard urged.

  The two guards by the wine barrel looked at each other with fear, as if making Hunter angry was the worst possible thing.

  Macran glared at Gelbus. “I’ll come back for you, Gnome. And when I do, you’re in for a world of hurt.”

  “Very clever,” Gelbus said softly, and then screamed as Macran lunged at him, feigning a punch.

  The two guards rolled the barrel out of the cell, and Macran walked backward, his eyes never leaving Gelbus. The lead guard slammed the cell door shut with a bang, rattling the steel in its frame, then stuck out his forked tongue and swiped around his lips. With two fingers, he pointed from his eyes to Gelbus.

  ‘I’m watching you,’ he mouthed.

  As the guards’ footsteps receded, causing the dog to rail off in another burst of barking, Gelbus let out the breath he’d been holding. He stretched his arms to the dark ceiling and thanked whatever gods were out there watching over him.

  No less than a few seconds had passed when the girl spoke up.

  “Mighty lucky for you.”

  Gelbus rolled to the grate in the floor, gripping it hard. “You have to get me out of here. I don’t think I’ll ever be that lucky again.”

  Maria shrugged and patted the weapon on her hip. It was a sword—one fit for a king. “Luck or not, I wasn’t going to let that sonuvabitch kill you. I was just about to blow a hole through the floor and give them a taste of their own medicine. Glad I didn’t, though; I’d rather get you out quietly i
nstead of dying guns-a-blazing…at least for now. Trust me, guns will be a-blazing soon enough.”

  Gelbus cocked his head at the girl. She spoke so oddly; her speech infused with strength and equal parts maturity and immaturity. Yet something in her eyes urged Gelbus to trust this Earthling, to follow her.

  Looking around the cell at his grim prospects, he quickly realized he didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Stand back,” Maria ordered.

  Gelbus listened.

  The girl’s arms started to glow a violent blue. Gelbus saw twists of red in that blue, as well. He knew a lot of things, but he didn’t know what the red in the magic meant, though he could’ve guessed. This Earthling witch was more powerful than she realized, which meant she was more dangerous.

  Her hands came up and gripped the grating. Wind blew her hair back from her head. Her eyes took on the same glow as the magic radiating off of her. Then…the grating was no more. It crumbled beneath her touch, turning to dust. It made only a slight sound, no louder than a breeze sighing through trees, but it was masked by the clamor of the nearby prisoners, including that dratted dog.

  Maria looked at what was left of the grate in the palm of her hand. As she looked, it quickly caught on the air and puffed out into the darkness beyond the glow of her skin, like sand slipping through the spaces of ones fingers.

  Gelbus had seen a lot of things, but an Earthling with such power? Never.

  “You can close your mouth,” Maria said. “I didn’t know I could do that, either, until about thirty minutes ago; I’m quickly finding out that there’s a ton of stuff I don’t know I can do until I do it.” She reached a hand up through the opening, offering it to Gelbus.

  “Oh, w-why thank you,” he said, but the truth was he wasn’t sure if he should touch that hand or not. She had just evaporated steel with her magic; imagine what she could do to flesh and bone. “I think I shall help myself down.” He offered her a weak smile.