Midwest Magic Chronicles Boxed Set

by Flint Maxwell

  Tabby shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah, I guess…but—”

  “But nothing,” Maria said. “This blows a road trip away.” The idea of bringing her friends didn’t strike her as odd as she thought it would. In a weird way, like most of what had been happening to her over the last forty-eight hours, it felt right.

  Tabby smiled. It was an uneasy smile, but there was honesty in it. “I-I—”

  “Tab!” Claire urged.

  Tabby sighed. “Fine. I’ll go, but if my mom finds out, she’ll kill me.”

  “Oh, crap! What am I gonna tell my parents?”

  “The truth,” Gramps said. He walked up to them, Sherlock at his heels. “Tell them the truth. Tell them you are going to save a village in a far away land.”

  “They’ll think I’m talking about Africa or something. That won’t fly.”

  “So you don’t mind?” Maria asked Gramps.

  He grinned. “No, no, the more the merrier. Oriceran is a magical place. I look forward to seeing it again and sharing it with you all. Just promise me one thing, all of you, okay?”

  They nodded.

  “Don’t anger any Gnomes.”

  Maria looked at Sherlock, whose floppy ears raised at the mention of gnomes. He was probably already having visions of using them as chew toys.

  “Besides, we shall not be gone long. You needn’t worry. Oriceran is a safe place…mostly.”

  “Gulp,” Tabby said. She looked pale and a bit nervous.

  Gramps threw his head back with laughter and put his arm around Tabby and Claire. “Joking!”

  But Maria knew a place that was home to large arachnid creatures was far from safe. She kept her mouth shut.

  Agnes and Salem stepped forward. “I wish we could go,” Salem said.

  “Why can’t you?” Maria asked, disappointment wrenching her features. “Who’ll stay around and keep this place safe? The Silver Griffins?” He laughed. “The Muffler twins?” He laughed again, this time Agnes joining in with him.

  “Hey! Not nice!” the Muffler twins said.

  “Kidding!” Salem said, then leaned forward and whispered, “Seriously, can’t do that. The whole town would probably burn down.”

  Agnes elbowed him, smiling. “You have a great guide in Ignatius. No need to worry,” Agnes said.

  Ignatius stepped forward. “Are you ready?”

  Maria nodded. Sherlock bounded up to her and said, God, I hope I don’t get portal sick.

  “Is that a thing?”

  Eh, with me, you never know.

  “Just throw up in the opposite direction of me,” Maria said, patting him on the head. “And maybe I’ll let you pee on a Gnome.”

  Tabby shook her head. “Still can’t believe this.”

  “Oh, you will,” Ignatius said.

  They went into the ice cream shop, glass crunching beneath their feet. The sun had almost risen in its entirety. A new day was on the horizon.

  Once inside, they gathered in a circle.

  “Now, when the portal opens,” Ignatius directed, “Step through. Don’t think too hard about it. Imagine it’s as normal as the door we’ve just used to enter the shop.”

  “Why?” Tabby prodded.

  “It’s better if I don’t answer that question. Have no fear. Malfunctions are very slim. You have a better chance of winning the lottery,” Ignatius went on.

  “Or plowing a giant spider with your car,” Tabby whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  Maria laughed.

  “Now, Agnes, Salem, and the twins, will you help sing us through?” Ignatius asked.

  The witches and wizards stepped forward, tightening the circle.

  “Sing?” Maria asked.

  “Yes, it’s a trick we’ve learned from the Light Elves,” Ignatius said nonchalantly.

  “Elves?” Tabby said, breathless.

  “Zip it,” Claire said.

  “Everyone hold hands,” Ignatius said. They did. Maria took her grandfather’s in her right and Sherlock’s paw in her left. Claire took Sherlock’s other paw in her right and Tabby’s in her left. The Muffler twins, Agnes, and Salem closed the circle.

  Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment until it was broken by the high, sweet melodic tones of the elders’ voices.

  It was a song Maria had heard, first as child many years ago, and then later, on her nineteenth birthday, when she opened her mother’s music box. It was a song that reminded her of home, and this time, she found herself singing along.

  A burst of light came in the middle of the circle. It was the portal. On the other side was Oriceran.

  Ignatius led the way, stepping through and disappearing out of thin air. Next went Sherlock with a joyous bark, then Claire and Tabby together. Last was Maria, and as she stepped through the portal, she knew a chapter of her life was closing, and an array of endless possibilities was only just beginning. Duke had been right.

  Then, Maria left Earth with her family, ready for anything that came her way.

  FINIS

  Author Notes - Flint Maxwell

  September 15, 2017

  Most importantly, I want to thank you for reading this book. If this was your first time reading something by me, I’m so happy to have you along for the ride, and I hope I didn’t disappoint. If you’ve read my other work and you’re a rabid Flint-Stone (lame name, I know), then welcome back!

  Words really can’t describe how grateful I am to you amazing people who read not only my stuff but who read in general. It seems that not many people do these days. Often times, people I know will ask me what I’m doing with my life (always an awkward question) and I’ll say, “Oh, I’m an author,” and most of these individuals will invariably reply with: “What’s an author?”

  No, no, I’m kidding.

  But seriously, bookstores are dying, libraries are losing their funding, and English Literature majors are still laughed at…usually by the ones who lack imagination and the courage to follow their dreams. So, you, my friends and fellow lovers of stories, are simply amazing, and without you, I’d be just another guy talking to himself. You make the real and countless fictional worlds go round. Also, it is really, really nice to have someone who’ll listen to my crazy ramblings.

  Anyway, I told myself I’d try to keep these notes short, but I also told myself I was going to quit drinking pop, and so far I’m 0-2.

  When Martha Carr messaged me about joining her in helping create a new universe, I about shit my pants. Martha and I have known each other for about a year. I had read her thriller books (which were great, and you should totally check out The Wallis Jones Series, if you haven’t already), and told her how much I liked them. I never expected anything in return. I was just being honest. Then the next thing I know, I’m writing about a crazy world called Oriceran and a talking Bloodhound named Sherlock.

  I guess life just happens like that sometimes. So a very big thank you to Martha Carr and Michael Anderle for inviting me along on this wild ride. They both have given me the greatest gift an author can ever receive, and that is another sandbox to play in—one where the foundation is sturdy and the sand is clean, deep, and ripe for building.

  So round of applause for Martha, who is one of the most amazing people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I mean, look at all she’s accomplished. She’s written for major news outlets, she’s been publishing for thirty years, she has a kick-ass dog named Lois, she created a talking troll named Yumfuck (quite possibly the greatest fictional name ever), and she’s beaten cancer multiple times. Like, holy shit! Martha Carr for President. Really, she’s been so helpful to me. I’m not one of those authors who typically outlines; I usually just get an idea and go with it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But Martha made me outline (yes, that’s right, made me), and I couldn’t be happier that she did. She opened up a new world for me, once she and I ironed out the details of this first book in the Midwest Magic Chronicles. I never got stuck or had to backtrack. The story flowed out of me like
…well, like magic, and there was still wiggle room for me to do my own thing. Martha calls herself the Den Mother of Oriceran, but as you can see, she’s so much more than that. She even helped me understand the business side of publishing a bit more, with boring things such as taxes and IRAs. Talk about a Swiss Army Knife—she does it all. So thank you, Martha.

  And a round of applause for Michael, who was sort of a legend to me. I follow the indie author community very closely, always looking for advice and paths to authoring success. One day, over a year ago (maybe close to two), I watched a video of Michael on Stephen Campbell’s Author Biz podcast (also a really cool guy) and was floored when I learned what Michael was doing and how much success he was achieving. He was another of the many people in the indie community that I model myself after and have learned so much from. His way of creating and publishing largely reminded me of a gunslinger in the Old West — a badass who does things their own way, and who stops at nothing to get what they want. His way about publishing has obviously proven to be successful, but I think his outlook and general badassery transcends the business and writing world; I think it’s a great way to live your life. So Michael, I thank you for being fearless and for helping so many, including myself, through your generosity.

  Okay, okay, they’re telling me I have to get off of the stage now; I’ve gone on for too long.

  Maria’s journey is just starting. I hope to have the next books out soon. Recently, I’ve partially torn my Achilles tendon playing basketball, and will probably be laid up for awhile. So bad news for me, but good news for you. I’ll have nothing to do besides go hang out in Oriceran with Maria, Ignatius, Sherlock, Claire, Tabby…and possibly some angry Gnomes. And between you and me, I would do that anyway. It’s fun as hell.

  I shall leave you. My time is up. I will leave the stage as I shout out the Oriceran battlecry: WUEEEEEEEE!

  Author Notes - Martha Carr

  September 28, 2017

  I first got to know Flint Maxwell as a fan of my previous works – one of the few… He let me know how much he was enjoying my books and he thought his mother would really like them. It made me laugh and I kept noticing on every book this young guy was leaving a nice review. Again, one of the few…

  Then, Michael Anderle and I started the Oriceran Universe and I’d been noticing that this guy, Flint Maxwell was gaining ground as an author in the zombie genre. So, when it came time to pitch some new authors for the universe, I threw in Flint’s name and boy, am I glad I did.

  He’s the comic relief for the rest of the Universe. When Michael once misspelled, Wheeeee and put Wueeeee… Flint picked up on it and ran with it. Every comment back and forth had a nice Wueeee… till it became the Oriceran battle cry and now everyone is doing it! (Feel free to do it too… especially when chatting with Magic Mike…)

  Flint is the author most likely to notice when someone else’s book has gotten that little orange flag, or to read everyone else’s work and tell them what he liked about their book. And in long meetings when Michael and I go on and on, Flint is the patient one who waits us out till we get back on track and quit the kidding around.

  He also writes a really good book with that same sense of humor and quiet patience, easy to get along with and a love of something just a little edgy. Flint’s work helps us even bring a more male voice to the group of women he jokes with on a daily basis and really launches Oriceran as an amazing Universe full of diverse writers all bringing their own unique take to the same urban fantasy story.

  I know that as you become a fan of his work – and you will… and you reach out to chat with Flint, you’ll get that same friendly guy who can make a fun joke and has the most amazing facts on weird stuff he’d like to tell you about. Doesn’t hurt that I’m from the Midwest and so is he… that Midwestern practical nature wrapped up in magic. That’s a winner right there!

  So, let me introduce you to my friend and fellow author, Flint Maxwell and enjoy The Midwest Magic Chronicles in the Revelations of Oriceran Universe and Book One: The Midwest Witch. This is going to be like a great friendship with a few laughs, some great tales and a few scary moments that don’t last long where you get to cheer on the good guys. Wueeeeeeee!

  Publisher Notes - Michael Anderle

  September 28, 2017

  LOL.

  I remember Martha saying “I want to ask this author, Flint Maxwell, to join us…”

  And that, was that. We had ONE other male in the Oriceran Universe (what is it with all the females, Martha? Poor Flint was THE only male for a long time. Now, we have another couple on the hook, so he’s not always fighting the good fight.

  Whatever that is.

  As the original conception for Oriceran was built in my mind, I had that our world’s true past was hidden. That the truth was out there somewhere, but either the powers that be just couldn’t believe their original truth was wrong - or more insidiously, the truth was being hidden because we couldn’t be trusted with the truth.

  That annoys the ever-loving hell out of me.

  Personally, I AM cynical enough to believe the government is hiding stuff. Occasionally, I’d probably think it was for good reasons. However, I’m of the opinion that we (the people) are a lot more resilient than most believe. However, I never expect to truly know unless this writing and publishing business does so well, I earn enough crazy money to start funding research to find out.

  Hey, it could happen! (Yeah, probably not, but maybe.)

  Until then, we are building our own reality of what our past might have been like, and our future. For those who know me from The Kurtherian Gambit Universe, you know I like past, present and FUTURE.

  Oh yes, I won’t hesitate to have series based another twenty years, forty years…HUNDRED years in the future in Oriceran.

  What might we do, if we have technology and magic and a desire to see the stars? What kind of capabilities could we create?

  Transporter Beam ala Star Trek? Done.

  Faster than Light travel? Ok, done. But, we have to work with the speed of light (and the fact that we have cosmologists working on the fact that - despite our belief in Einsteins Theory of Relativity - Light Speed is not constant!)

  LINK: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/nov/28/theory-challenging-einsteins-view-on-speed-of-light-could-soon-be-tested

  Really bad things happen because mankind doesn’t know when to leave the fu#k alone? Oh yeah, that in spades.

  Just the kind of Universe where people with attitude and a certain type of belief system I care about will kick ass, take names and provide us with the kind of entertainment and camaraderie I want to read more about.

  But, first things first (as The Author starts looking around)…

  HAS ANYONE FED THE FUCKING TROLL?

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  The Midwest Wanderer

  Chapter One

  Lightning flashed across the inky-black sky. The Gnome swore under his breath. He hated to get wet; it was the last thing he needed at that moment, but he was almost there.

  Thunder rolled across the land, sending a jolt of vibration through his small frame.

  Storms, he cursed. Can today get any worse?

  The short answer was yes, it could.

  The Gnome’s name was Gelbus Cogspark. He had once worked at the library in the Light Elves' castle, but he didn’t any longer. In fact, today was the one-month anniversary of Gelbus’s firing.

  And Gelbus had to celebrate, didn’t he? Or at least drown his sorrows in pints of ale and sweet wine—if he was feeling particularly rowdy, he might down a shot of Firejuice. That would certainly take his mind off of his unemployment.

  He passed a carriage on the road. A man sat behind the reins in a dark cloak.

  Gelbus said, “Good day, friend,” tipping his top hat.

  The man didn’t so much as reply with a head nod. There was something off about him, but Gelbus didn’
t let it bother him.

  The carriage rolled by, the horses’ feet clop-clopping. Inside the carriage were two women. One older, the other perhaps in her twentieth year—the man’s family, no doubt. They looked at Gelbus with cautious eyes.

  “Well,” Gelbus mumbled once the carriage was a safe distance away. “Not the friendliest bunch, are they?”

  He walked on, his small legs aching from the journey. What I wouldn’t give for a horse and carriage right now.

  He reached inside his suit coat, pulled out a pocketwatch, and read the time. “Oh, no,” he sighed. He was going to be late.

  He waddled on.

  The sky grew darker and the thunder rumbled. The storm was getting closer.

  As he breasted a hill, Gelbus saw the town sprawled before him. It was a dinky place flanked by a large lake; nothing like the Light Elves’ Kingdom, but it was where Elargo wanted to meet.

  ‘Ashbourne has the best brew in all of Oriceran,’ Elargo had said in the letter Gelbus kept folded up in his breast pocket; the letter given to him by that nice man in the tavern of Ves Ielan. As far as Gelbus was concerned, no storm or rude villagers could stand in his way of a good brew.

  “That’s what got you in trouble in the first place,” Gelbus scolded himself under his breath. “That damn drinking problem.”

  He smiled after the words left his lips. Didn’t his mother say that admitting you had a problem was the first step to overcoming it? Yes, he thought she did.

  There we go, Gelbus. You’re on the right track, admitting you have a dratted drinking problem! That’s cause for a celebration. I think two drinks are in order!

  But it was never just two drinks.

  Gelbus would drown in his cups until his tongue was looser than a succubus on Earth. That’s what got him thrown out of the library in the Light Elves’ kingdom, what caused his wife to divorce him, and what caused him to get thrown out of the Abarract Club in his youth studies.