Magic's Return: Elven Courage

By Chip Gagne and Pat Gagne

THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS DRAGONS, ELVES OR REAL MAGIC...

...Shen Peterson should know. His father is a famous stage magician and he understands all about illusions. When he's kidnapped and locked in the closet of an abandoned house, Shen assumes he's being held for ransom. Until he's rescued by a little girl who isn't what she seems to be.

Bitsy's memory may be hazy, but she can do impossible things - like open a solid stone wall or create light from a rock. With the help of Shen's best friend Mark, a cat named Trouble, a forgotten dragon scale and the knowledge that wizards and elves still walk the earth, Bitsy must remember her past. Because she isn't from the Earth Realm. She's an elf that was sent to the here by a dragon, and time is running out for all of them.

It's going to take Elven Courage to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chip Gagne
• Release date: Apr 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311351593

Chip Gagne

Chip Gagne is a software engineer whose main hobbies included reading and writing (and Lego, but that is a different story). Born on the hottest day of the year, Chip was guided to reading at an early age. Some of his favorite memories include weekly trips to a used book store where he inevitably would find a new science fiction, horror, or fantasy novel to read.Over the years, Chip wrote several short stories and even an attempt at a script or two, but never attempted to do anything with them once they were written. Yet he always had the drive and desire to create.After discovering a real enjoyment of fantasy and anything with dragons, he decided to try and persuade his mother, Pat, who had previously published 25 books under the name Dani Sinclair, to write a fantasy novel. He had several ideas and suggestions for one, but it was only after he agreed to co-author the book with her that she agreed. The result is the Magic's Return series.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The sun was just beginning to set behind the peaks of the tall mountain, its reds and oranges flaring like fire in a struggle to fight off the night. A lone figure stood just before the mouth of a large, dark opening in the side of the mountain, his shadow stretching far behind him in the final colors of the day.

He was not a large man, yet something in the way he stood hinted at a power within. He was garbed in the comfortable gray robes favored by many wizards throughout the land. In his right hand, a gnarled wooden walking staff carved from the roots of a j'ander tree idled, a necessity for the journey he had made. The trip up the mountain was never an easy one.

I know why you are here. A booming voice echoed from the cave, though its tone held a hint of compassion.

The wizard did not respond, instead remaining motionless outside of the cave. Even he knew better than to enter the lair of a dragon uninvited.

A gentle wind slid from the mouth of the cave, carrying the scent of uncooked meats and sulfur as the dragon sighed. The ground vibrated softly, and a moment later a large head pushed its way into the evening air. The dragon stepped from the cave and raised itself to its full height, stretching as if he had just awoken, though the wizard doubted the dragon had been sleeping.

She is gone, though I suspect you are already aware of this. The wizard said softly, though the accusation was clear.

The dragon looked up, seeming to scan the sky. The reds and oranges of the setting sun reflected from its scales, making it difficult for the wizard to look at it directly. Some moments passed before the dragon finally faced the wizard.

I am more than aware, as you well know. Though the dragon spoke softly, the wizard could feel its voice vibrate to his very core. Her help was essential. Your council, as well as my own kind, have ignored this situation long enough. Our elves should have returned long ago. It was past time to act.

You sent her alone?

I did not. Ad'iorn went with her, though I fear their penetration of the barrier was not as unexpected as I would have thought.

The wizard paled visibly. Then she is...

She is alive, though I do think she may be on her own at present. The dragon dropped his head closer to the wizard. Fear not. She will learn what we need to know, and she will return to us.

You can't know that. Even dragons can't see the future! The words came out more harshly than the wizard intended, and he did not wish to anger the dragon.

No, we can not see the future, that much is true. But even the birds can read the paths of the winds they fly. There are more things at work than I had considered, but we must know where the lands of man stand.

Without another word, the dragon turned and withdrew into its home, leaving the wizard to wonder what his future would hold.

The sun finally disappeared behind the mountain, and night arrived.

CHAPTER ONE

Bitsy

A shiver coursed up her spine. It had nothing to do with the chilly spring breeze sweeping across the deserted street. An eerie silence hung over the neighborhood. The downstairs windows of each house had been covered in sheets of plywood, but like accusing eyes, the upper windows watched for the

wrecking crews that would soon reduce them to rubble.

This house had a soft shimmer like a summer haze emanating from its roof, It drew Bitsy as if she was pulled by an invisible thread. She had no choice. She simply had to slip back inside and finish looking around. There was at least an hour before he would stagger home. That was more than enough time.

She hurried up the rotting steps to the sweeping front porch. Taking the flashlight from the stained and faded backpack she'd taken from a bin of donated clothes earlier today, she slipped between the loosely tacked boards that covered the window on the left. In seconds she was inside, broken glass crunching beneath her torn, dirty sneakers.

She wanted to investigate upstairs this time. While all these houses were old, this one felt older than the others. And it had such an odd layout. Why would anyone build such a small house with two connecting staircases?

The main stairs faced the front door. They still had the remains of faded floral carpeting leading up to a tiny landing with a window and a door. Through the door was the second set of steeper stairs leading down into the kitchen. Instead of carpet, the back steps were scarred wood covered by rotting rubber mats.

Hurrying up the front stairs, she left the door on the landing standing open, only pausing for a quick look down at the faded kitchen tile. Six more steps took her up to a dark hall at the top of the stairs. She paused there to study the layout. Three open bedroom doors, a tiny linen closet outside a dingy bathroom dominated by a claw-footed bathtub and another door that was closed tight. This was the door that drew her. That same soft haze outlined the door.

Bitsy was reaching for the dull metal handle when the sound of male voices raised in anger made her pause. Downstairs, a door slammed. Someone had entered the kitchen!

She darted to the head of the stairs intending to run back down but she was too late. They were moving fast, coming up the back stairs. She'd never make it down the front without being seen.

Her head swung wildly, stringy long blonde hair whipping about her face as she frantically sought a place to hide.

A man's voice raised in anger sent her scrambling for the linen closet that gaped open scant feet away. The folding door hung half off its hinges but there was no time to search for something better.

Didja' remember to bring the spikes?

The man's raspy snarl tightened her insides. Bitsy turned off the flashlight and slipped beneath the bottom shelf. Dust from the filthy carpet filled her nose making her want to sneeze. She pinched the bridge and tried not to breathe.

And the hammer, a second voice agreed. And this here piece 'a wood.

Stop struggling, brat! The first man ordered.

At the sound of a slap Bitsy stopped trying to pull the broken door closed with her fingertips and curled into the smallest ball she could manage. Closing her eyes, she ignored the dust and a strong urge to sneeze coursing through her skinny frame.

Another slap. A boy's voice cried out in anger as much as fear. Let go! Hurt me and you won't get any money.

Oh, we'll get what we're after all right, raspy voice told him.

Oww! the boy cried out.

He'll pay us plenty for a mouthy snot like you, the man continued.

A scuffle was followed by curses and more blows. They were already at the top of the landing! She flinched, knowing there was nothing she could do.

Kick me, will you? I'll teach you manners, brat.

You couldn't teach a pig to snort. The boy's voice came in puffs as if he couldn't breathe despite the bravado of his words. He obviously wasn't as afraid of the raspy voiced man as she was.

Yeah? Well we'll see if a night in a dark closet with the rats'll cure you of that mouthiness.

Those words made her weak with dread. She hated being locked in a closet, but she was truly afraid of rats. The scuffling sounds grew fainter as they moved down the hall to the bedroom at the front.

Someone began driving a hammer against wood. Did she dare try and make a run for it? She wanted to more than anything, but caution riveted her in place.

She clenched the flashlight more tightly, and then stopped breathing entirely as heavy footfalls headed directly toward her and halted. Bitsy held perfectly still. Had they seen her?

Her heart beat so fast she was sure they must hear the frantic pounding. She allowed her eyes to slit open. Large black shoes were so close she could reach out and touch them.

You sure that'll hold him? raspy voice demanded. You didn't pound the nail in very far.

Hey, you want to do it? The second voice replied. That wood's hard. Trust me. That kid ain't goin' nowhere. All these old doors are solid hardwood. He can kick forever but he won't get out.

Then let's get something to eat. I'm hungry.

You're always hungry.

Two sets of shoes moved to the top of the staircase. Bitsy released a long breath as she listened to them recede down the steps. There was more conversation that sounded like another argument, but they'd lowered their voices and she couldn't hear what they were saying. She listened intently, straining to hear the kitchen door shut until it finally did.

Still she didn't move, waiting.

The distant sound of more hammering spooked her until she realized they must be nailing the sheets of plywood over the back door again. Finally, there was silence.

Her legs were beginning to cramp and she had to go to the bathroom, but she stayed where she was for a long, long time just listening. Finally, she opened her eyes. The house was definitely darker now. That wasn't good. Her hour was up. She had to get home before he did. There was no telling what sort of a mood he'd be in, but it was never good. And if he even suspected she'd gotten out and come here, he'd beat her again for sure. He'd told her time and again what he'd do to her if she ever went near these abandoned houses.

Slowly, straining to hear the slightest sound from downstairs, she uncurled her body and crawled from behind the partially closed door. A sound made her stop in the act of standing up.

She exhaled in relief. They weren't returning. The noise came from the front room at the end of the hall. The bedroom door was still open and she could hear the boy futilely kicking at the closet door.

Bitsy hesitated. She needed to get home, but she couldn't leave the boy there all alone with the rats. Maybe she'd be lucky. Maybe this would be one of his late nights. Maybe he wouldn't come home until he was so drunk he barely made it to his favorite chair.

She moved cautiously down the dark hall. The big front room was dusty and empty like all the others. Fading daylight still trickled through the uncovered windows. She knew to stay well back from them. The men could still be outside. If they looked up they might see her moving around and come back in.

The boy had stopped kicking the closet door. Small muffled sounds came from the other side. Was he crying? No, he was swearing. Good for him. He even used some words she'd never heard before.

She eyed the heavy wood board the men had nailed across the closet door. How was she going to get that off? She scuffed her foot against the stained floorboard and her shoe caught in a hole where a chunk of the wood floor was missing.

Who's that? the boy demanded. Is someone out there?

His determination, despite the fear he must be feeling made her nod in approval. The boy probably thought the men had come back and he wasn't going to let them know he was scared.

Let me out!

Bitsy shook her head. I can't. They nailed the door shut.

But the nail was sticking out of the wood. They hadn't nailed it very tightly. Maybe she could pry it loose if she had something to pry it with.

Who are you? he demanded.

Bitsy.

What kind of a name is that?

She glared at the door. It was one thing for her to hate the name Bitsy, but who was he to make fun of her name?

What's yours? she demanded.

Shen.

And you made fun of my name?

Never mind, he countered, you've got to open the door before they come back.

How? I told you, they nailed it shut. And they'd nailed the board up high. Being short put her at a serious disadvantage. She gripped the bottom of the board and pulled. It gave a little, squeaking against the nail, but she was too short for good leverage. There was no way she was going to pull it free like this.

It's too high up.

Then find something to stand on!

Frustrated, she snapped back. You find something to stand on! It's an empty house.

It is?

That made her pause. Don't you know where you are? Didn't you notice when they brought you in?

I was blindfolded. I just now got the ropes off my wrists.

Oh.

She cast another look at the window. Red and gold streaked the sky. A bank of low clouds scudded across the horizon. It was going to rain. And it would be full dark soon.

I have to go. Her voice cracked in frustration.

And leave me in here?

She bit her lip, tasting blood. He was right. She couldn't leave him here. She stared at the window, willing the night to wait. But of course it wouldn't. She was probably too late to make it back home before dark anyhow.

If you can't get me out, go get help, he ordered.

And that, she definitely couldn't do.

There isn't anyone nearby, she told him. They're going to tear this whole neighborhood down. Look, I'll go see if I can find something to stand on. I'll be right back.

Hurry, Bitsy.

She ran from room to room, glad for the flashlight and the fresh batteries she'd stolen this morning. The house grew darker and darker as she searched frantically. There had to be something she could use, but all she found were broken bits of wood and crumpled up papers and food wrappers.

Bitsy paused. She returned to a pile of broken wood. A jagged broomstick handle caught her eye. Would it be strong enough to pry the board loose? It might work if she used it like a lever. If she was strong enough. There was only one way to find out. She hurried back to the room with her find.

Bitsy? he called softly.

I'm here. Are you okay?

Yeah. I thought you left.

She empathized with the fear she heard in his voice. It's okay. I won't leave you, Shen. A rash promise, but she had to offer him some comfort.

Thanks. Did you find something to stand on?

No. But I found a stick. They didn't nail it very tight. If I can get this between the board and the door maybe....

She set the flashlight to one side. Not for the first time she wished she was taller and stronger. That was why he called her Bitsy. Certainly, it had never been an endearment.

Push against the door from your side, she told him.

All right.

He kicked hard, but the door was stubborn. Her arms and shoulders ached with the effort. Sweat dripped down her face as the sky went from red to a deep, dark blue. Darkness began to settle over the neighborhood like a shroud. She could barely see the board now but she thought she was making progress. The board squeaked against the nail more loudly. Twice it had moved forward, but not far enough to dislodge the heavy wood.

Bitsy, it isn't any use, Shen panted. You'll have to get help.

Even if she could, the weak part of her didn't want to go back downstairs in the dark alone. Rats came out in the dark. We've almost got it.

I don't think...

She tugged on the broken handle with all her remaining strength. Without warning, the board came free with a splintering crack and fell straight down at her. It bounced off her cheek, knocking her to the ground. Her head slammed against the dirty hardwood floor. Warm blood trickled down her cheek.

Shen kicked hard and the door sprang open, hitting her leg. She could barely see him in the dark. He was a big, towering shape standing over her. That made him older than she'd thought. He had to be at least fifteen or sixteen.

He bent and grabbed her hand, yanking her to her feet. Barely glancing at her as he released her, he snatched up her flashlight.

Good! At least we have light. Come on. We've got to get out of here before they come back!

Bitsy didn't argue. Her face hurt and her head and leg throbbed. She wiped at the slight trickle of blood with her free hand and let him half drag her down the hall to the open staircase. Complete darkness yawned before them. She was glad for his warm hand holding hers.

They nailed plywood over the kitchen door, too, she told him. We'll have to go out through the window where I came in. Only, I don't think you'll fit.

I'll fit, he told her grimly as they started down the creaking steps. Are these stairs safe?

I used them coming up.

As they reached the upper landing he snapped off the flashlight beam.

What are you doing? she squeaked in alarm.

Shhh. I hear voices. I think they're back.

Fear rose in her throat. He was right. Someone was on the front porch and they were coming inside.

CHAPTER TWO

Shen

Shen needed time to think and time was the one thing he was not going to get. They couldn't go back upstairs since that was where the creeps thought he was so he grabbed Bitsy by the hand again and headed down the back steps. The squealing of the front door as it was forced open masked their descent.

At the base of the steps, a quick glance told him that she was right, the kitchen door was boarded just like all the windows. A staircase to their left, however, led further down into the house.

Not the basement, Bitsy whispered, fear evident in her voice.

Trust me, it wouldn't be my first choice either, he agreed.

Heavy footsteps began making their way up the front steps. He was pretty sure they would never make it outside without being seen. There was no choice but to risk the basement and pray for a hiding place.

They scuttled down the steps as quickly and quietly as they could. They could hear the men talking together overhead.

I'm going to turn the flashlight on for a second, he whispered. With everything boarded over there was no choice. They had to step carefully. There was no telling what might be lying in their path in the dark.

He felt Bitsy tense beside him and knew exactly how she felt. It's going to be okay, he told her as they stood on a rough concrete floor. We need to find a hiding place.

Where?

He panned the flashlight's beam around the area. It wasn't a large space. In fact, the basement spanned only about half of the house overhead. It was little more than a concrete slab. An old furnace filled much of the area to their right, and there was a rusted looking washer and dryer nearby. A single, old fashioned light bulb hung in the center of the room.

The first place they'd look would be over by the furnace, but he didn't see anywhere else to hide. Then he noticed a small door in the wall to their left. Without a word, they both started in that direction.

Suddenly, feet pounded overhead. His escape had been discovered. They needed to act quickly.

He cut the flashlight off before they reached the door, plunging them into total darkness. He heard a small gasp of surprise from Bitsy but she didn't so much as break stride.

She was