Old Dogma New Tricks (The Elven Prophecy Book 2)
Page 25
I groaned. I was surprised; mohawk notwithstanding, the guy cleaned up pretty well. I was used to seeing him in gym shorts and tank tops that were two sizes too small, but he was standing there in a nice pair of slacks and a button-up shirt.
“Yeah.” I gestured at the couch. “Let me just let Layla know so she doesn’t come out half-naked.”
Jag shrugged. “I won’t complain if she does.”
I snorted. “I know you won’t. I mean, honestly, who would? But she might not appreciate it.”
“Fine,” Jag said. “She should probably hear this too.”
“Layla!” I shouted. “Jag is here. He says he has something important to tell us.”
Layla came out. She had thrown on a t-shirt, my favorite one—the one that commemorated the Chiefs’ last victory in the Superbowl. I had to admit, she looked extra-sexy wearing my team’s apparel over her nightgown. She’d also slipped into a pair of jeans.
“Hey, Jag,” Layla said. “Thanks for training Caspar while I was gone, by the way.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said.
“I’m sure he appreciates my money,” I quipped back.
“Hey, you get what you pay for,” Jag said. “Show me those triceps. I swear, when you opened the door for me, I could see a little definition.”
“I’m not flexing for you, Jag.”
“Just do it. Come on. You should be proud.”
I sighed and extended my arm to flex my right-side triceps.
“See, look at that!” Jag said.
Layla reached over and touched it. “Damn, Caspar! You’re really getting toned.”
I nodded. “Thanks. So, I don’t think you came over here just to feel me up.”
“No,” Jag said. “I’m not into dudes like that.”
“Didn’t suspect you were.” I smirked.
“So, we had a meeting tonight.”
“The gym did?” I asked.
Jag shook his head. “The Order of the Elven Gate.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I guess that makes sense. What’s going on?”
“We had some strange visitors, Caspar. Elves, but not like you Layla, Their skin was darker, almost purple. Their ears even more pronounced.”
Layla bit her lip. “Drow?”
“I think that’s what they said. That’s right, they were drow.”
“What the hell is a drow?” I asked.
Layla sighed. “I didn’t believe they existed, to tell the truth.”
“Are they elves?” I asked.
Layla nodded. “Of a sort. They evolved differently because they didn’t come with us to New Albion.”
“Wait,” I said. “These are elves who’ve been on Earth the whole time?”
Layla nodded. “There are legends, stories, that centuries ago, they sent emissaries to New Albion in hopes of luring us back, not to fight but to peaceably stand up to the Empire that had persecuted us.”
“I’m taking it the elves on New Albion didn’t dig that idea?” I asked.
Layla shook her head. “We’d all be burned for what they wanted to do. It’s the whole reason our people fled to begin with. If they’d had their way, we’d all have been martyrs. We assumed they’d all been killed for doing exactly what they wanted us to do because after a while, according to our histories, they stopped sending emissaries.”
“Well,” Jag said, “I can assure you, they didn’t all die. Three of them showed up at our meeting tonight. They said they’d sensed a new magic, a human in tune with the Earth’s energies. They wanted to come to see this chosen one for themselves.”
“So they want to meet me?” I asked.
“And they came with gifts, I think,” Jag said.
I laughed. “Please tell me it isn’t gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
“Those would be shitty gifts,” Jag said. “But one of them had a bag from the Apple Store. Maybe he got you an iPad.”
“Awesome!” I said. “I could use one of those!”
“Did you tell them where they could find us?” Layla asked.
Jag shook his head. “We didn’t, but I told them I see you frequently and that I’d speak to you. Said maybe you’d come to meet them.”
I sighed. “All right. When is your next meeting?”
“It’s going on right now,” Jag said. “I told them I’d come and get you tonight.”
I sighed. “Can’t they wait until morning?”
Jag shrugged. “They traveled a long way to meet you, and I don’t think they’ve checked into a hotel or anything.”
“We should go,” Layla said. “I’m pretty excited. I mean, a real drow? How awesome is that?”
I shrugged. “All right. I suppose until the world’s been saved, sleep is out of the question.”
Jag snorted. “Sleep is for pussies.”
“You told me I needed eight full hours every night for muscle recovery!” I protested.
Jag smiled. “I was just looking for a reason to call you a pussy again.”
I chuckled. “All right, well, let’s go meet these drow.”
“One more thing,” Jag said. “Some guy showed up at our meeting the other night. Said an orc had kidnapped him, and some hot elf boss-chick was behind it. Told us a wizard he referred to as Gandalf the White saved him.”
I laughed. “Dwight? I thought he’d decided to refer to me as Doctor Strange?”
Jag nodded. “Well, it’s Gandalf now. You’re saying you had something to do with that?”
I smiled. “Didn’t expect he’d join your order. And he said he wouldn’t tell anyone. But I guess after what happened, it makes sense. And yes, we borrowed his truck.”
Jag shook his head. “He has a lot of crazy ideas. Something about one ring to rule them all, and how our whole world is doomed if you don’t save us.”
I chuckled. “Well, he’s half-right, I suppose. Not about the ring.”
Jag nodded. “Can you straighten out his story? He’s all worked up about it.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him.”
The Story Continues
The story continues with Three Dogma Night coming June 10, 2021 to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
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Author Notes - Theophilus Monroe
May 3, 2021
Like Who Let the Dogma Out, this book is largely the product of a number of my own experiences. First, I am something of a workout addict. I used to be a trainer and still, even in my early forties, do some amateur bodybuilding. I can be obsessive at times. Jag is, oddly enough, a bit of a parody of myself, I suppose, combined with other gym rats I know. As I wrote this, in fact, I even had a mohawk. Thank you, “Carona Cuts” (my wife’s bathroom hair salon… since social distancing from the barber is virtually impossible).
Speaking of my wife—she inspired the whole “deprecations” thing. She’s currently really into “affirmations,” and has a number of positive, self-affirming statements plastered all over our walls. It’s really powerful, actually. Makes a difference. Jag’s “deprecations” were something of a parody of that. Because… yes… as powerful as these affirmations are, they can be a little silly, too. My wife doesn’t know I did this yet… I’m anxiously awaiting her reaction. I’ve been practicing my “ducking” skills. Or, perhaps taking Caspar’s lead, a back-foot, turn-and-pivot would be a more appropriate evasive maneuver. -
Caspar’s experience with the church shifts in this book. He still has his issues with the “powers that be,” but he’s also struggling with the general “culture” of his congregation, one that isn’t particularly empathetic to others’ struggles or accepting of people who look different than they do. Even well-intentioned people, with their hearts in the right place, sometimes put their faith in the wrong things. Doctrine, traditions, the way “we’ve always done it,” and the like—and in the process, fail to see how their actions exclude others. Now, with an empathetic bishop, he has a chance to at least attempt to make a difference.
; And then there’s all the new magic. The trickster fairy, Ensley, does very little that wasn’t experienced (either by me, or others) when I was living in college dormitories in the late 1990/early 2000s. Ketchup on my buns… happened more than once. Hopefully, this book will also inspire some light-hearted shenanigans. Because we could all use more practical joking in our lives. So long as we’re the ones perpetrating them.
And of course, there’s Agnus. Enough said.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I got a kick out of writing it. It was a bit of a hoot to write.
-Theo
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
May 7, 2021
Thank you for reading through this story and the back as well!
I’d like to comment that I did NOT know that the deprecations were directly tied to Theophilus’ wife’s efforts with little affirmations taped to the walls all over the house. Had I known this little tidbit of wisdom, well, I would have started looking for another collaborator sooner. I fear if his duck and cover skills are not up to snuff, he might not be long for this world.
We shall see.
As you can tell, Theophilus and I share a rebellious streak when it comes to many of the issues with organized religion. While the positive parts are supported, there are many issues that need to be addressed, and we poke a little at those issues. I’m not for throwing it all out just because of the problems, but I support these issues be raised in a story such as this one.
IT’S ALIENS!
I’d like to point out to Marc Stiegler (fellow author and friend) that we have accomplished putting aliens into our Urban Fantasy. Marc and I have a friendly (but passionate) disagreement about the potential existence of alien life.
I can’t remember if Marc is strictly a “no aliens have visited Earth” or a “no aliens exist” individual. I’m going to assume the former but reserve the right to correct myself when I ask him in the near future.
(Editor’s note: Since he’s my husband and I’m on your side, I’ll answer. It’s the latter, more shame to him!)
Anyway, I’m merely putting this stake in the ground that those elves who have traveled from their world to this one are now considered aliens.
Elves are aliens. We might not have been the first, but we are probably the first set of collaborators this year to do it.
Maybe.
Orcs are elves
Ok, we have a slight chance that we are the first who are claiming that orcs are a type of elf. Once again, aliens. I might use it as a defense.
(Editor’s note: Have you READ Lord of the Rings? Or seen the movies? Do you remember how orcs were created? Pshaw, I say!)
Prosecution: “Mr. Anderle, what is your defense when charged with placing two different groups of people in a book and calling them both elves?”
Mr. Anderle: “I claim the ‘They are ALIENS!’ defense.”
Prosecution: “Seriously?” Turns head to the judge. “He can do that?”
Judge: “He can.”
Prosecution: “Awww, shit.” Throws down paperwork in disgust. “No more questions.” Closes briefcase and leaves the courtroom. Door bangs behind him when he leaves.
Mr. Anderle: (Looking at judge). “We done, then?”
Judge: “Yes. Smart move. Nothing gets past the ‘ALIENS!’ defense.”
I hope you have a fantastic week or weekend. See you next book!
Regards,
Michael Anderle
Books by Theophilus Monroe
Also by Theophilus Monroe
The Druid Legacy
Druid’s Dance
Bard’s Tale
Ovate’s Call
Rise of the Morrigan
The Voodoo Legacy
Voodoo Academy
Grim Tidings
Death Rites
Watery Graves
Voodoo Queen
The Legacy of a Vampire Witch
Bloody Hell
Bloody Mad
Bloody Wicked
Bloody Devils
Bloody Gods
The Legend of Nyx
Scared Shiftless
Bat Shift Crazy
No Shift Sherlock
Shift For Brains
Shift Happens
Books By Michael Anderle
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