The Home of Professor Mifflin
At eight forty-five earlier that morning, James Meehanan sat in Norwood Elementary School’s main office, his haggard face a sweaty and pasty white. He burst through Sheriff Radich’s door at eight a.m. sharp, frantic with the note that Marie had left on her pillow. The sheriff felt that no matter what had happened, he should first check with Marie’s cohorts to see what they knew.
In walked Bettyann, Trish and Tilda, tight lipped and scowling, obviously not the first time they had been called into this office. Mr. Parcellis, the principal, followed right behind with the sheriff. James stood up, closely studying the three girls for any immediate clue, but they avoided his eyes. The principal, normally soft-spoken, loudly cleared his throat, startling them. He now wanted some answers.
“Mr. Meehanan woke to a letter this morning from Marie,” began Mr. Parcellis, the note of urgency clear enough in his voice, “saying she would be going away for a while and for her father not to worry. If the three of you know anything at all about this, speak up now, right now.”
Tilda and Trish glanced at Bettyann, who glared back at them, her eyes plainly instructing to keep their mouths shut. All three remained silent until Bettyann shook her head.
“What does that mean?” asked the sheriff. “Yes or no.”
“We don’t know where Marie is,” replied Bettyann, play acting as innocently as she could.
“Are each of you certain you know nothing about this?” repeated the principal.
“We haven’t seen her for a while,” said Tilda. “We don’t really like her anymore,” she added, still avoiding James’ stare.
“There’s a prayer answered, James,” said the sheriff, turning to the girls. “Ya’ know,” he admitted to them, “ I’ve never been thrilled with how the three of you operate.” It was an oft-repeated statement of his.
“All right, back to your classes,” said Mr. Parcellis.
As the girls turned and began walking out, Sheriff Dan played his last card. “Remember next month is the county fair,” he said. “If I find out any of you are lying, you’ll have community service for the whole month— on latrine duty. I know your friends will get a kick outta’ seeing that.”
The sheriff could not really enforce this kind of punishment on three young teens, but the girls didn’t know that. His threat worked as Trish, the weakest of the girls, hesitated. Bettyann and Tilda went to grab her, but too late.
“Wait, sheriff—” Trish began—
“—Shut up, Trish!” interrupted Bettyann.
“We saw her yesterday,” Trish admitted. “Her and that homeless Woldred girl tried making us go into the woods, and Bettyann and Tilda did, and they saw real ghosts and ran, but Marie stayed anyway. That’s where she must be still, in Spookyhollow!”
“Let’s go,” said the sheriff, already on his feet, motioning for James to follow. Passing the girls, the sheriff considered explaining that he could not make them do latrine duty. Then he realized he would no doubt need the same leverage with them in the future.
As they got into the sheriff’s car, James asked, “Where do we start?”
“Where I always start,” the sheriff answered. “Luck’s End Loop.”
Marie ran wildly through the woods as fast as she could— which was quite difficult as she was now running barefoot. Furthermore, in her hands she held both her sneakers, trying as best as possible to keep them steady. She stubbed her toes on rocks and acorns several times, shortly halting with shrill wails of “Ow!” But she kept on, relentlessly trying her best to remember the way they had come. She also hoped the woods would not change in size and direction as Perion and Courinn warned it sometimes did. She was scared out of her mind, but focused on where she was headed.
Perion gaped in terror at his arms, now almost fully formed into tree branches, with many other smaller branches and leaves sprouting out. Much of his hair had turned into a mess of weeds, as parts of his face continued to take on the stiff surface of tree bark.
He could not see Courinn anymore, being nearly submerged between the two massive oaks, who continued to battle for possession of him. He began to perceive in his mind a burning hatred between these two ancient trees. He could also barely hear a sound under the thunderous groaning around him, a noise like something hard being repeatedly stuck into live wood. While he knew what this was, he doubted it would save him. With each of these stabs, he felt in answer a quivering thrum inside the trees, which he thought indicated pain. But it did no good as he continued to be overwhelmed by numerous oaken limbs. He would soon be turned into something else completely.
“Leave me, Courinn!” he tried to shout, but it came out weak and garbled. “Save yourself and Marie!”
Perion then sensed his strength as he once knew it, beginning to take on a fresh vitality. He became aware of a new way to breathe, through the leaves of his own tree limbs—How to drink moisture through the roots buried deeply in the ground below. And he felt age suddenly thrust upon him. Hundreds of years of slow growth: inch-by-inch, year-by-year, and century-by-century. He gave the last of himself over to the powerful spells at work within, helplessly transforming into that which he had no will left to contest.
Marie burst back into the grassy glade. She wiped aside her horrified tears at seeing how the two massive trees had wholly overtaken Perion, no longer visible within their abominable rampage.
“Courinn, where are you?” she shouted out. She seemed to catch a quick glimpse of some black and gold streak before Courinn emerged from behind one of the trees with a jagged-edged stick in her hand.
Marie ran to her, holding out both her sneakers. Courinn didn’t understand until she looked inside them. They were filled as much as possible with the black bubbling ooze from the gight pool.
“Take one, careful don’t spill any!” said Marie. “There isn’t much. Quickly, pour it into the cuts on the roots and branches!”
Amazed, Courinn took a sneaker. They both converged on the oaks and began pouring a few drops into as many of the fresh open wounds as they could find— And there were scores of them. Almost at once, the groans of the trees turned into a raw, excruciating wail of pain. The branches and roots recoiled, stung from the poison of the black pool’s gook. Their wounds bubbled over with gray soot, which then traveled speedily as evidenced by their leaves, turning from bright green to gray to charcoal black.
Courinn poured the last of her poison as Marie emptied the last of hers into a deep root wound. As the enemy trees swooned in agony, Perion again emerged from their midst, his arms and face beginning to return to their original form. Marie and Courinn climbed up to reach him and swiftly pulled him from the loosened grasp of his captors. They dragged him off where he lay, conscious but exhausted.
“There are many stories about these two trees,” began Courinn. “It’s believed they were human once, men who for whatever reason in their mortal lives, hated one another so deeply, that a spell was cast upon them to live the rest of their days as great oaks. To grow old and forever be the victim of each other’s mercilessness. To carry out their hate for all days until the woods themselves disappear. They bear the centuries of wounds from unceasing years of battle, yet until today they could not die.”
“What did they want from Perion?” asked Marie.
“To be human again, to be the first to suck the life from a powerless victim. Yet I believe you have finally given them a blessing. Death.”
They watched as the brutally entwined giants bitterly fought with the very last of their strength. With a thunderous groan that weakened into a thin whine, both oak trees ceased their unearthly movement and froze still as any normal tree should. They appeared as two twisted, broken sentinels that had eventually strangled each other for food and water. If their dead portraits could have conveyed any words or emotion, it was clearly as vengeance and hatred.
As Perion began to come around, Marie let him finish drinking the water left in her canister. He then sat up and rubbed his arms.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Perion smiled weakly. He stared at Marie and Courinn gratefully. “Many thanks to you. I’ve endured serious trials before, but that was the most desperate. How did you halt the mydrus attack?”
“Mydrus?” said Courinn. “Is that what they were called?”
“We call them that,” answered Perion. “Mydrus means ‘enemies’ where—” He hesitated. “—where I come from. They have fought within this area of the wood as long as I’ve known. Blast it, I should have spotted them in the glade right away!”
“You can thank Marie,” said Courinn, holding up one of Marie’s black-sooted sneakers. “She’s the one who really saved you.”
Perion gazed at it; the realization of Marie’s actions dawning on him in amazement. “The gight pool?” he asked. “You touched it? How did? —”
“—You said anyone could come near it with eyes closed and holding their breath.”
Both Perion and Courinn looked upon Marie in wonder. Perion bowed his head before her. “You have my solemn thanks, Marie.”
Marie smiled at Perion’s earnest show of respect. Then Courinn gently took Marie’s wrist, holding it up: revealing an ugly purplish bruise, trailing off into a black smear of the gight’s slime.
“It came after you, didn’t it?” Courinn asked. “Are you all right?”
Marie’s face grew uneasy. She quickly pulled her arm away. “Yeah,” she said. “How much farther to the professor’s house?”
“Less than an hour if we hurry,” said Perion. “With no more obstacles. Your shoes are no good now, Marie,” he added. “Take my boots for the rest of the way. I’ll be fine barefoot, I know this ground pretty well.”
Marie was surprised at how quickly Perion recovered from his ordeal with the mydrus trees. He showed little signs of any pain or fatigue as he led them on again at a brisk pace. He also offered to carry Marie’s book-bag the rest of the way.
The woods here seemed somehow tamer and less dangerous the farther they went in this direction. It was nothing she could really see, but she felt it. Curious as always, Marie asked why.
“You’ve a good sense about you,” said Courinn.
“We’re coming to the very eastern part of the wood, the farthest away from the Spellhollow region,” explained Perion. “It’s power and enchantment are the weakest here, leading to Lanasink away up on the northeast border. And although he’d never admit it, I’d say the professor has something to do with it as well. He calls himself a scientist, but there’s more wizard about him than any science.”
As they walked behind Perion, Marie lightly tapped Courinn for her to lean close. “Where is Perion from?” she asked softly. “He doesn’t dress like us. And he spoke about ‘back home’ a few times.”
Courinn smiled, but before she could answer, Perion, who heard her question clearly, answered, “Let’s see what the professor says about things first.”
After some three quarters of an hour had passed, they came to a well-used path, curving away to their left. Marie gradually noticed the sounds of birds’ sweet chirping and insects flying about. Perion began into a trot, as Courinn and Marie’s tired legs ran to keep up. In a few minutes, the path twisted between some rocky formations before opening into a wide clearing.
It was nearly a perfect half circle, and from its far side, a long driveway led to an old Victorian style house built right into the side of a single mountain face, flanked by sycamore trees. To the right of the house, a waterfall splashed down the mountainous slope emptying into a stream that led around the house, back into the woods. It was a charming structure with three floors plus a large singular room perched above its four gables at the very top with a full view of the surrounding grounds. It appeared to Marie a contented, homey place, looking especially comforting as she stroked her weary legs. Once again out in the open air, the first time since early that morning, the sun shone brightly with a warm, moderate breeze.
“The home of Professor Mifflin,” said Perion, turning to them. “I think you’ll like it here, that is, if they didn’t eat our lunch yet. As I mentioned, you’re expected, Marie.”
It was a house unlike any Marie had ever seen. Parts of it were very neat and orderly, while other rooms were cluttered beyond belief with endless books and papers and things piled from floor to ceiling. There were lots of bedrooms, but also a gymnasium, a laboratory of some kind with strange looking machines and even a big open area with a swimming pool. Then came a pleasant surprise: strolling down one of several long hallways, she peered out a window overlooking a paddock of eight horses and a barn. She gasped in excitement, as a voice sounded from behind her.
“Welcome Marie, I’m so glad you could make it.”
She turned to see a gentleman much younger than expected. He extended his hand.“I’m Raynor Mifflin. What a pleasure to meet you.” Marie shook his hand gently. She noticed a gold wedding band on his left hand.
He was no older than her father, maybe younger. Probably not much past thirty, still pretty old, but not nearly ‘professor’ old, which was supposed to be someone with messy gray hair, a bushy beard and old-style glasses.
“With six boys running around all the time,” he continued, “it’s always a nice change to have some sensible, female charm about. Wonderful to see you again, Courinn, how are you, dear?”
“Very well, sir,” she said. “We had a bit of an adventure this morning.”
At that moment, Brage and another boy of the same age appeared around a corner. He was taller than Brage; brown skinned and had an engaging smile, which he offered to Marie, who pleasantly returned it.
“Adventure?” asked the professor, a hint of concern in his voice.
The taller boy, Zendara, grabbed Perion from behind, playfully choking him. Perion laughed and played along fighting back.
“The mydrus trees,” continued Courinn. “They attacked us. That is, they attacked Perion.”
Perion slipped out of Zendara’s grasp, teasing him with a quick jab to his cheek. Zen tried to return it but missed, with his fingers only swiping air. The professor held his hand up, signaling the boys to stop.
“Perion, are you all right?” asked Mifflin.
“I am, professor. It was a bit touch and go, but I was saved by Marie’s quick thinking.”Mifflin and the others stared at Marie, eagerly waiting to hear this new tale.
“She collected some of the poison from a gight pool,” continued Courinn, “which we poured into the battle wounds of both trees.”
“She’s clever and brave, sir,” added Perion.
“I did what I thought was best,” said Marie. “I’m just glad it worked.”
Brage and Zendara gazed at Marie, then back to Perion.
“The mydrus trees,” said Zendara. “Wow.”
Brage lightly touched Perion’s shoulder in concern, his eyes asking, “You’re sure you’re okay?” Perion nodded and smiled. Brage was very fond and protective of Perion.
“Indeed?” said the professor, nodding his head in approval. “What a bold start to be sure. Let’s get Perion and our guests something to eat, and then we’ll all adjourn to the library to discuss what lies before us.”
Impatiently however, Marie reached under her shirt to show the professor the globe amulet. “Professor, please help me. Perion and Courinn gave me this—”
“––Not yet, dear,” interrupted Mifflin politely. “I do believe I can help with the riddle that globe has given you. But eat first and rest, then we will sit and talk.”
“But do you know what this charm is?” asked Marie persistently.
“I do, Marie. And I’m fairly certain I can tell you what happened to your mother.”
They enjoyed a late lunch outdoors on the deck that overlooked the waterfall. It was a hearty meal of ham and grilled cheese sandwiches and potato salad, followed by bowls of fruit and honey for dessert. The potato salad was the creamiest Marie had ever tasted. She was quite satisfied as she washed it all down with a tall glass of lemonade.
She stared out at the grassy clearing, surrounded by the woods perimeter. It looked so lovely and peaceful with the sun shining and the birds singing. Though this place was new to her, something made Marie feel safe here; she wanted to stay and just relax. Her injured wrist had been examined and cleaned by the professor, who respectfully asked without pressing what happened at the gight pool. His sincere concern along with his kindly manner eased Marie’s fear and she quietly told him. He listened carefully as he tended to her. When she was done, he kissed her softly on the forehead.
“Your mother is already so proud of you,” he said.
Finishing lunch, Perion led them inside, past many rooms to the center of the house where the main library was. As such, it had no windows, which Marie quickly guessed was intended to keep away prying eyes and ears. There at a large table sat Professor Mifflin, along with five boys. Like Perion, they each had long hair, almost down to their shoulders and looked roughly the same age, though Brage looked a bit older. Professor Mifflin stood as they entered.
“I hope you enjoyed your lunch, Marie,” he began, “I made the potato salad myself.” He began motioning to the boys. “You already know Brage and Tybain and you just met Zendara, whom we call Zen. That leaves Theel and Dyllion here. Dyllion had the longest hair of them all and he had a slight reddish color to his skin. But Theel was the most noticeable at first site. He had very blonde hair, yet what was odd were the thin scars along his cheeks, two on each side from the corners of his mouth, running upwards. They all nodded, welcoming Marie as Perion and Courinn sat down at the table.
“Everyone, this is Marie Meehanan from Highland Pointe,” said Mifflin. “She’s come to us amidst an urgent crisis. Please sit, Marie, make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you all for helping me,” she said, taking an empty chair next to Perion. She quickly noticed only candles and old-fashioned gas lanterns lit the room. There were no regular lights with bulbs in them.
“You’re going to learn much today, Marie,” began the professor, his expressive eyes which Marie noted, conveying a real sense of hope. “And I’m going to have a few long standing questions of my own answered. Please show us the gift you received.”
Marie withdrew from her neck the small round globe on its necklace. The object set off its usual faint glow. The boys looked on, curiously.
“This enchanted charm,” continued the professor, “was created for a single, specific purpose, though it appears to have other unusual powers as well. Look into it again, Marie.”
As Marie peered at the small chunk of black rock floating in green fluid, she quickly saw a blurry image of a face, which again became that of her mother. Marie’s eyes moistened in sadness, now mixed with some anger too.
“Keep looking, Marie,” said the professor. “There is yet more to see.”
Her mother faded. She saw nothing more. Then a new face appeared. Coming into focus, Marie saw it was no one she ever knew: an older man’s face, flush with anger but also fear. A voice began in a strange language, which Marie could not understand. At length the voice and face faded and the globe resumed it faint glow.
Marie looked up, bewildered. “Who was that?”
“He who created the charm,” answered the professor. His name was Thurle. He was a powerful gnome who lived within these woods. He was also a master craftsman. You saw him because this amulet has already begun to enshroud its power over you— some of its power, but not yet all— Not until you stand with it under a full moon. I assume you’ve already done so beneath a slighter lunar phase?”
Marie turned to Courinn and Perion, nodding. “Yes, I did, on the rock ledge. And I remember my mother mentioning the moonlight, when she first gave it to me.”
“She was trying to tell you how to activate some of the charm’s power,” explained Mifflin. “The moonlight creates a enchanted ‘conduit’ connecting you with anyone who has borne it. Had it been a full moon you stood within, you might have been able to understand Thurle’s words, among other things.”
“He ... died,” said Marie sadly. “Thurle did, I mean.”
“Yes,” said the professor. “You see and feel that now?”
“He was killed by something … something terrible!” Marie shivered and shut her eyes, stuffing the globe amulet into her pocket, trying to whisk away whatever images or thoughts now haunted her mind’s eye.
“I’m afraid so,” continued the professor. “One of the most feared and deadly things that still roams Spellhollow Wood.”
Perion and the boys listened earnestly, now realizing the seriousness of the situation before them. They were used to the many perils of the woods, but it was unsettling to see those same dangers brought upon someone else.
“There are only two evils,” said Brage, his expression of dread mirroring those of his companions, “that instill this sense of fear.”
“But the most wicked of the two has been away,” said Zendara, “and not troubled us for some time.”
“So it’s returned?” asked Dyllion.
“Doubt it,” reasoned Tybain. “We would have known. Felt it. Heard of it. Something would have changed in the wood.”
“Tybain is correct,” said Mifflin. “Let’s hope that evil does not come back any time soon, at least before you all return home. No, this is the other fell scourge that has long held Spellhollow in such terror.”
“Gwylligwitch,” said Perion, staring down, like he was peering through the table into some dark, hopeless void.
“The trollogre?” questioned Dyllion in confusion. “Does it really exist? We hear whispers of it, then it vanishes. How do we know it’s not dead?”
“It’s not dead,” said Courinn. “It seems it has reemerged with an ever fierce hunger. I have been steadily hearing of its movements since early last year.”
Marie stared at Courinn curiously, pondering some nagging questions. How could this girl her age know so much about the woods? If she was really from Woldred, when had she met the professor and these boys? She even spoke like them most of the time. How could she have traveled at her age so often in the woods without her mother knowing? Was she much older than she looked? And what about the boys? What were they doing here living with Professor Mifflin? Where were their parents? Where were they from? Marie had many things yet to learn.
“Far longer than that,” said the professor. “It remained quietly near its home in Lake Gwindylo for decades, before at last daring to venture forth again. It’s been at least three years since it’s returned abroad, since that was when Marie’s mother was attacked. Confusticate the blasted thing!”
The professor’s words hit Marie like a sharp, heavy weight being dropped into her stomach. They quickly shook away her questions about Courinn.
“This thing?” she began, “is what took my mother?”
The professor hesitated for long moments, wishing there was a pleasant answer.
“Yes, Marie, I’m afraid so.”