Mystic by Jason Denzel

deep laughter. “Vlenar, like most rangers, finds his place in solitude. It is their job to listen, and observe, not to comment. Come, I will escort you to your dwelling. While you are here for the Trials, you may call me by my given name, Oxillian.”
    He walked away on long, powerful legs. Behind him, dirt and grass pushed up to fill the gaping hole he’d risen from. Pomella stared at the ground before running to catch up. “Can I call you Ox?”
    Again the strange chuckling sound. “You may.”
    She crossed the wooden bridge, which spanned a steadily flowing river about eight feet wide. Ox walked beside the bridge, his long legs needing only two strides to cross the stream. The smell of fresh soil filled Pomella’s lungs, reminding her of home, and working in the garden with Grandmhathir. Pomella gawked at everything from the Green Man to the nearby tower. Several times she dug her nails into her palm just to prove she was really here, walking with a figure of legend.
    They arrived at a small cluster of low buildings with shingled roofs and glass windows. A ring of river rocks circled the modest dwellings, each of which had a tiny garden planted beside it. Seasonal vegetables were just beginning to sprout. Wooden wind chimes sounded somewhere nearby.
    â€œWho lives here?” Pomella asked.
    â€œAs of today, you do,” Ox said. “You will be joined by the other candidates. Beyond that, only Mistress Yarina and a few others occupy Kelt Apar. She has been very busy since becoming High Mystic. Once an apprentice is chosen, more will come to dwell at Kelt Apar. Ah, here we are.”
    Pomella stared at the cabin he stopped in front of. “Who will I share it with?”
    â€œThis one is just for you,” Ox replied.
    â€œBut this is almost as big as my home in Oakspring!”
    â€œWe hope you will find it to your liking. I will let you settle in and rest from your journey. A highsun meal is ready for you within. Your first obligation will be to come to the main lawn at sunrise tomorrow, where you will present yourself to Mistress Yarina.”
    Pomella’s stomach tumbled over itself. A hundred worries came to mind, ranging from whether she was truly ready for this experience to where she could find a bath. She took a calming breath to ease her anxiety.
    â€œIf you need anything, ring any of these bells.” Ox indicated a palm-sized silver bell mounted beside the entryway to her cottage. He bowed to her, and her cheeks burned. The Green Man just bowed to her! Then, turning, he took three steps away from her and rumbled back into the ground, leaving no trace that he’d ever existed.
    â€œFirst the Green Man, then a laghart, and now my own cabin,” she mumbled under her breath. “Next, I suppose Saint Brigid will join me for dinner.”
    The cottage proved to be much smaller than she’d first assumed. Not that she minded. The long, rectangular room hosted a table with stone utensils and unused candles set atop it, and a thick-cushioned chair pushed in beneath. A wooden tray of mixed fruits, nuts, and vegetables sat beside a matching goblet of water on top of the table. At the far end of the room, the cottage angled to the left, revealing a narrow nook containing a wooden bed, a dresser, and a night pot.
    She dumped her travel sack onto the floor, and fell back against the bed, arms wide. She sighed in contentment. A shelf laden with books caught her eye. It sat beneath one of the square glass windows. Pomella sat up; snatching a strawberry off the wooden tray, she slid onto her knees to examine the books. She grabbed one at random, a thick book of children’s tales from the Continent.
    Just as she opened to the first page, a knock sounded at the door, startling her. She hopped to her feet and opened the door, ready to see what else Ox needed.
    She blinked.
    A tall, dark-skinned boy, maybe a few years older than herself, waited outside with his