Abby and the Mystic Dancers

by L. C. Miller

  “Oh, that part’s easy,” said Mr. Herrin. “The hallways move.”

  Abby stopped in her tracks. She looked up at one of the Gearmen on the wall and asked, “Is he serious?” It lowered its arm to its side and shrugged as if the question didn’t matter.

  “What about the rest of the wings. Are they like that?” Abby asked.

  Mrs. Herrin shook her head. “Each one is different and has its own quirks.”

  “Ah, here we are!” said Mr. Herrin. Abby ran to catch up to them and stood in front of another tall gear-covered door. Mr. Herrin knocked. The doors swung open and they stepped in.

  Chapter Ten

  Abby suddenly felt nauseous. Her hands began to sweat again as they walked into a massive circular room. It really does remind me of an octopus wearing a top hat, she thought. Large tiles lined the floor as rows of tables stretched before them. The floors had been divided up into sections, each one representing the colors of the school’s five wings. At the front sat a long table, big enough to hold at least fifty people.

  She approached the table with Mr. and Mrs. Herrin on either side of her. Mrs. Herrin put an arm around her as if to reassure her. Quite a few people sat at the table, and Abby recognized Principal Bauble, Mrs. Queenly, and Mr. Peterson. The rest of the faces she didn’t know. She stared at the older man sitting next to Principal Bauble. He was dressed in a charcoal gray robe, as was the guy next to him. But this guy looked like he had a perpetual snarl on his face, with one eyebrow Abby was sure he had drawn on in almost an upside-down V shape.

  Abby assumed the teachers were the ones dressed in black robes. A few had stripes of color on their hems and robe sleeves, Mrs. Queenly being one of them.

  Principal Bauble stood out the most, as she wore a bright orange robe, with hair to match. She smiled before saying, “Mr. Jensen here,” she gestured to the gray robe-wearing gentleman to her left, “is from the council as well as his assistant, Mr. Jeffery. They won’t be testing you, however. Mrs. Queenly will be testing you on morphing. Mr. Peterson is going to test you on defense and drifting. Mr. Clement will be brewery and greenery. After all the testing is complete, we will let you know where you will be placed in school. Then you will go through the Decisionary. Is that all understood?”

  Abby nodded, too nervous to speak.

  Mrs. Queenly stood from the table and walked down to her. She led Abby to another room off to the side, thne sat behind the desk and gestured for Abby to stand in front. “This object is what we learned to transform in the third year.” She held up a piece of dry wood. “You’ll need to change it into something different.” She laid the piece of wood back on the table and picked up a small blade of grass. “Secondly, you will need to change this blade of grass to a feather.”

  She laid that back on the desk and handed Abby a piece of paper. “But first you will write a page for me answering each of these thirty questions. These are only some of the questions I have for the students who take my exams. You must be able to do this to the best of your ability. Do you understand?”

  Abby nodded as she picked up the quill pen and paper. She read all the questions before writing down everything she could remember from the books she had read. When she was done, she placed the quill and paper on the desk. Mrs. Queenly laid the blade of grass in front of Abby, who took her wand out from her pocket and pointed it at the grass. She could feel her green gem pulsing. She tapped it three times before saying, “Morph-Feathi.” It at once changed from a blade of grass to a pretty green feather.

  “Very good,” said Mrs. Queenly. “Now, let’s try this one. I want you to change this piece of driftwood into anything else.” She laid a block of wood in front of Abby.

  Abby thought for a moment before tapping her wand three times and saying, “Morph-Leon.” The piece of wood changed into a small lemon.

  Abby heard a strange voice say, “Good job, Abby.” She jumped back in shock while a large blue and green parrot landed on the desk.

  Mrs. Queenly smiled and said, “This little guy is named Jogaa.”

  Abby hesitantly put her hand out to the large bird. It rubbed its beak on her hand and she petted his feathers.

  While Abby played with the bird, Mrs. Queenly read her answers. After a few minutes Abby looked up to see Mrs. Queenly studying her intently. She didn’t say anything, just stood up. She led Abby back outside where Mr. Peterson took her to another room across from the previous one.

  This room was stuffier than the other one. She could tell it was an office because of the huge filing cabinets lined against every wall. He made Abby sit at a small desk and he unrolled a large piece of paper. “Now, Abby, a defense spell is exactly that. You must be able to know what your opponent is going to do and know what spell to use to block him or her. During the first year, we learned about many jinxes, hexes, and curses. Most jinxes and hexes have only one counteract spell. It acts as a shield and protects against many spells, except for the really powerful ones. We also learned about some Wielders who are famous for their skills in defense. Nearly all of them work for our council. I want you to read these questions, answer them, and when that is finished, we will practice a few spells.”

  Abby answered the questions as best she could before handing it back to him. He laid the answers on the desk and had her stand in the middle of the room. “Now I want you to throw some jinxes at me.” He took two steps back from her and held his wand out. “Eventually, we will try to disarm each other. The word for that is Disani. But first I want you to use the spell on me that you used on Ms. Rable.”

  He gave the go-ahead and Abby, her wand in front of her, said, “Palloki.” Mr. Peterson spun to the side a good five feet before landing safely.

  He briefly stared at Abby before bursting out laughing. “That’s right! I was wondering if it was that one. That’s an old one. How did you learn that?”

  Abby glanced down at the floor when she answered, “I have an old spell book, and I remembered a few of the spells in it. I already know about shield spells, and there are a few more I can remember.” She felt a little embarrassed.

  “No need to be self-conscious, Abby. That was a very good jinx. Since no one uses it anymore, no one will expect you to use it,” he said with a laugh. “What are some others that you know?”

  Abby thought for a minute before smiling. She pointed her wand at him again and said, “Growleian.” Mr. Peterson suddenly stretched another four feet in the air. “And then there is Hysteria.” Now the nine-foot-tall Mr. Peterson was laughing hysterically.

  By the time he shrank himself to his normal size and stopped laughing, tears were in his eyes. “Now those are some I have only read about. I used to teach a history class. I read about an old spell book that was written by a Meralda Greenhawk. It mentioned a few spells—the ones you just did were part of it. I never did find the book though, or anything about a Meralda Greenhawk.”

  “We must’ve read the same book,” said Abby, thinking of the book written by Meralda, a well-known Mystic. Mr. Peterson taught her a few more updated counter-jinxes and how to disarm before calling it quits.

  “Let’s make things fly,” he said as he opened his desk drawer. Abby had to answer more questions that the drifting teacher, a Ms. Wonks, had written up. She also had to make a feather and a small stone float. She succeeded with the feather and barely with the stone. “Good enough for me,” he said and rose from the table. He led her back out the door and into the mess hall.

  Mr. Peterson sat back down in his chair and another guy got up. This one led Abby out of the room and into the hall. The Gearmen saluted them again as they walked. Suddenly, the teacher turned off and went down another hall. He stopped at the third door to the right and opened it. They stepped into what Abby thought of as a huge classroom.

  There were four long tables in the middle of the room. Cauldrons were lined against the wall on shelves. Abby saw the desk with a huge square window behind it. It made the outside look dark, and there were unicorns running up and
down the ocean as the waves crashed to shore.

  “Welcome to my classroom, Abby. My name is Mr. Clement. I am the brew master here at WAMA for the fourth through sixth-year students. Today I want you to create three potions for me. They are all very basic—a sleep draft, a cheering concoction, and a hairy remedy. I’ve set the ingredients out for you with the directions. While the first one cools, you go to the next one. Did you get all that?”

  Abby had been concentrating so hard on what he was saying that it took her a minute to realize he’d asked a question. “Oh, uh ... Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good. You may begin.” Mr. Clement took a seat behind his desk as Abby went to the first table. She knew the sleep draft potion almost by heart, and quickly had it boiling to the temperature before setting it aside and working on the next one. The cheering one proved a little more difficult because she had never heard of it. She read the directions twice before starting.

  This one took longer to complete, but she eventually had it done and moved to the third one. This was another easy one for her, as it was the last potion she had made in her cave. All the while Mr. Clement watched her from his seat.

  When she finished her third potion and set it to the side, Mr. Clement got up. ”Now while those are cooling, let’s play with some dirt.”

  With a flick of his salmon-colored wand, pots and flowers spread out all over the desk, followed by three vials. “I want you to identify three basic plants, plant four populous seedlings, and replant a clinging vine. Now, please explain these three plants for me and what they do.”

  Abby went to stand by the desk. Without a second’s hesitation, she pointed to the first one. “This is kemwood, widely used for counteracting poisons from hemlock, toadstools, and the bite from a sea dragon.” The thick slimy-looking vine raised a limb and waved. She moved on to the next one, a pink-colored rose whose petals were lined in black. It bloomed as Abby touched it. “This one is a healing rose. Its petals drop enough healing serum to heal your wound, no matter how close you are to death. It does not bring you back though.” She moved on to the third flower. A red gel oozed out of the top of its pretty yellow petals. “This one is a screamer, also called the Screecher. Eating its petals in raw form forever affects your ability of speech. It does not like to be replanted, and if you try, you’ll hear something like nails on a chalkboard.”

  Mr. Clement turned to the other plants on the desk. “Now for the populous flowers,” Abby started. She looked around the room, before saying, “It’s a little too bright in here for this kind of flower. Could you dim the lights?”

  Mr. Clement smiled and flicked his wand again. The lights dimmed considerably. She looked at the four pots, picking up the smallest one first. After digging one small hole, she poured a vial of a clear liquid onto the newly dug dirt. She then picked up a seed. It jumped in her hand, happy to be held. Turning it over, she made out the slight discoloration on the underside and put that face down in the dirt.

  She did the same to the remaining three and poured the rest of the liquid over them. They jumped in their little holes, begging to be held again. Finally, Abby put fresh dirt on top of the seeds, covering them up so they’d stay warm.

  “Abby, why does the populous flower need that liquid?” asked Mr. Clement when she was finished.

  “It needs it because it is said to help make the flower grow stronger. And if it’s strong, the petals will be dark. The darker its petals are, the more luck it’s supposed to bring. Plus, they seem to like it,” she said as she looked down to see the dirt wiggling slightly in each hole.

  She laid her hand over the holes, calming them. “Very good! Now the next one.” Mr. Clement gestured to a nearly two-foot-tall vine, currently trying to wind its way across the desk. She stared at the last two large flowerpots, one containing the pretty green vine. Its leaves curled softly down into its pot. It lifted one of its smaller vines and waved at her.

  She smiled as she picked up the larger of two vials. This one had a purple liquid in it, and she used it to rub all over her hands and up to her elbows. Grabbing the empty yellow pot, she started piling red dirt in it. By the time it she got it half full, she moved to the vine. She quickly started digging it out of its old dirt while it tried to ensnare her wrists.

  The oil on her skin made its attempts futile, since it just slid off. She picked up the plant and set it in its new pot. It started swinging its vines around in agitation, so Abby quickly poured the last remaining vial over the dirt surrounding the plant. “It’s okay. You’ll like your new home. See, you can even spread out more in it.” She talked to the plant. It stopped its shuddering at once and appeared rather peaceful.

  “Very good, Abby. Why does the plant need this potion poured over it?” Mr. Clement asked.

  “It needs it because the potion acts as a calming sensation. It tricks the plant into thinking it is back home in her original place and was never moved. The potion from the other vial,” Abby continued before he could ask, “is leaf oil that makes it very difficult for the vine to cling to what it’s been used on.”

  “Very good, Abby. Mr. Frump will be pleased.” Having no idea who Mr. Frump was, Abby smiled. “Now that the potions have cooled enough, let’s test them out.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mr. Clement walked over to the table of cooling cauldrons. He took out a little dropper and filled it with the sleeping draft. Going to his desk, he opened a drawer and a lizard crawled out. He fed the lizard two drops and it immediately fell asleep.

  Abby stood with her mouth hanging open. “How did you know that potion was okay for animals? I could have done something wrong and killed it.”

  “You didn’t,” was all he said before moving over to the hairy remedy. He filled another dropper of the light brown liquid and tasted it. He glanced over as Abby tried to smother a giggle. He had grown a full beard. Long hairs started twisting down the front of his robe as he looked down. “Nicely done, young lady!”

  He went back over to his desk and shuffled around. His hair was still growing. “I could have sworn it was around here somewhere … Aha! Here it is.” He produced another small vial and quickly drank it. His nearly two-foot-long beard started shrinking immediately. Once it was gone, he moved his hand over his face. “Ah, much better! Let’s move on to the cheering concoction. After all these tests, you’re bound to need a little cheering up.”

  He took out two small glasses from a cupboard and filled them with the purple liquid. Handing one to her, he raised his glass. “Cheers!” He knocked his glass against hers and took a big gulp. Abby was hesitant, so she meagerly sipped hers. It tasted fruity with a cinnamon aftertaste. Deciding she liked it, she took a bigger gulp and smiled. Then she started giggling. It wasn’t long after they both started laughing that tears came to their eyes.

  Abby stayed in the room to help Mr. Clement clean out the cauldrons. When they stepped back into the mess hall, they were still laughing. Mr. and Mrs. Herrin seemed confused, but smiled when Principal Bauble said, “Ah, the old cheering concoction?”

  Mr. Clement said nothing, only nodded, smiling as the teachers, Principal Bauble, and the two from the council got up. “Abby, you will be going into the Decisionary to figure out which wing you will be in while we review your scores. The five rings you see designed on the floor in front of you is the Decisionary. All you need to do is step into one of the rings and you will be sorted. We will see you when you get back.”

  As Abby went to stand in the middle of one of five large circles on the floor, Principal Bauble and the other adults, save for the Herrins, left the hall. “Just say when you’re ready,” Mrs. Herrin advised when nothing happened.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I guess I’m ready,” Abby said. The floor began to glow and a soft silvery mist started to rise from floor to ceiling. Abby turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Herrin. They both smiled encouragingly at her. She kept looking at them until the mist blocked her vision.

  She glanced around at the silvery wall. “Hello, Abigail
Reed,” said voices around her. Even though they knew her name, she wasn’t scared. She felt calm as she waited for the voices to speak again. “Do not fear us. We have waited for you. It has been many years since your father stood before us.”

  As Abby peered around the mist, she saw objects beginning to form. She could make out trees and saw the great white oak in the middle of a clearing. “Uh-oh,” she said, staring at it.

  She saw the Madam walking around the camp talking to a black-clad Rollen. Then saw Rainy stirring a potion. The oak disappeared and another tree took its place. This one showed a large black cat sitting in it, observing her. Abby watched as the cat sat up.

  “We know of your friends in our woods, and we do not mind.” As it spoke, the cat jumped to the ground. Yet when it landed, it wasn’t a cat at all, but a tall woman, dressed in brown robes and barefoot. “Hello, Abby,” she said as she held out her hand.

  Abby appeared startled as she noticed that she wasn’t in the great hall at school but was in the clearing. She shook the lady’s hand. “Who are you?” she asked tentatively.

  The woman smiled. “That is a question for another time. For another story. This one is all about you. I can see inside you, Abby. Your fierce need to protect those you love, your willingness to learn all you can, your heart full of sadness for the secrets. I see your patience in growing flowers, your eagerness for adventure. The hope that one day your mother will be recognized and not discarded and forgotten—”

  “I haven’t forgotten my mother,” Abby broke in fiercely.

  “I know you haven’t, but others have,” she spoke quietly. “You feel at home with the Herrins, but you love the woods. The trees and plants speak to you. They trust you. That is what makes you an Earth Dragon, Abby. A good Dragon takes the time to grow it right. A good Dragon has the patience when others do not.”

  As the woman said this, Abby saw herself hiding in the oak tree above Marcella. Abby remembered that day. She stayed in the tree for more than two hours because Marcella had wanted her to redo all of her homework. Then she saw Rainy throw her quill and ink at the side of the tent as she worked on songs. Abby smiled as she watched. “Your need for acceptance leads you into a great destiny, Abby.”